#hi don't mind me derailing in the tags

[ihatedtoadmit]

Art study

pairing: Bang Chan x gn! reader

genre: ...suggestive

warnings: nothing actually happens, so none besides teasing

word count: ~1.3k

summary: You're doing an art study on muscles, and who's a better candidate for reference than your wonderful boyfriend who keeps feeding his delulu fanbase with half-naked pictures?

a/n: Well well well, Nat, you don't have to pay to see me write something like this after all (if you will ever see this, because no chance am I tagging you or anyone, dear). Here, have fun, this is the most spice anyone can get out of my asexual ass.

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All rights reserved. Please do not steal, repost or feed my work into AI. Thank you!

You were a very reserved person, something your partner knew all too well. Every touch the two of you shared throughout the entirety of your relationship had no heat behind it, each one only fueled by pure adoration and love. Never once did a kiss turn hungry, hell, there had barely been any kisses the two of you had shared due to your lack of need for the action. Chan knew it all too well, and while he craved more, he also respected it. The last thing he wanted to do was to make you uncomfortable, and so he’d never stepped over that line.

That was the exact reason for his current shyness, the confusion that wanted to sit onto his face hard to mask. There he stood in your doorway, the desk before your hunched form cluttered with pencils and little crumbs of dirty erasers. You were entirely too focused on the task at hand to notice your boyfriend's presence, the song that flowed through your headphones much too loud to hear any footsteps or even words. And so you continued drawing, clueless about anything as your lover watched you work, eyes flitting between your sketch and the endless reference pictures on your screen.

Pictures about him, his back fully on display and unclothed.

A touch broke you out of your concentration as you erased a line for the fourth time, scaring you into throwing away the pencil in your clutches just so you could tear the headphones off your head.

“Interesting art you have there, love.” - Chan mused, yet his skin was as flushed as ever.

You joined him as you could feel your own skin heating up, ashamed that you’d been caught like this. Eyes looked at everything besides your boyfriend, yet you found comfort in that warm touch of his.

“I was just… doing a study, on muscles.” - the words were but a mere whisper, hand quickly reaching to minimise your browser and just hide it from a certain pair of prying eyes.

Still, there was a feeling clawing at the cage of your soul, ripping at the flesh to be let out and rampage freely. It was feral and vicious, planting a thought into your head that seemed impossible to get out, no matter how alien it felt. You could feel your breath hitch at the image that popped into your head, memories of the images you had been staring at for a while now overlapping.

The hand on your shoulder gently squeezed, breaking you out of your derailing thoughts.

“I don't mind, baby, it just… caught me off guard? Glad you enjoyed my performances though.” - Chan���s voice was light, mixing well with the shyness he was trying to hide.

It only urged that fierceness inside to break free, granting you a surge of confidence you would have never had otherwise.

Without any words you finally glanced up at the man you loved, finding him utterly handsome; you would hone your artistic skills for the rest of your life just to capture a fragment of that beauty. His skin was dusted with a faint red, ears painted by the deepest of shades. Those eyes you loved to get lost in were alight with an emotion you had seen them only hold whenever he looked at the boys, and it took your breath away within a heartbeat.

Your body moved on its own, towering over him as you now stood. His hair was still slightly wet from the shower he must have just taken, and you just knew he had been originally on his way to his room to swap his bathrobe for those comfy, black clothes he loved to don in his free time.

He searched your gaze, unsure, yet trusting. His hands comfortably placed themselves onto your hips; their touch was warm, the man before you always running hot. It was something you loved as he balanced out your always cold hands wonderfully, reaching the perfect temperature you both enjoyed.

“Hey, love. How was work today?” - you asked, leaning closer than usual as you swiped those dark curls out of Chan’s face. He leaned into your touch, eyes closing for a second as he thought about his answer.

“The usual, although Hyunjin managed to piss off Minho again. It was a shoe this time that was the weapon, by the way.” - there was an airiness of joy to his words, yet no laugh accompanied it.

No, Chan was entirely too enamoured with the look you were giving him, as if you were worshipping him with your eyes alone. And maybe you were. With each look you studied the way your lover's skin moved, the shadows conforming accordingly. It lured you in, as if Chan was the siren and you were his prey, fated to be drowned in the vast oceans and seas.

He didn't move as you took him all in, hands eventually unable to keep themselves away. Your fingers were cold against the warmth of his fair skin, and you could hear his breath hitch, the muscles inside his neck moving beautifully.

There was something different in your touch, that much he knew, yet he wouldn't have it any other way.

As if you had never seen anything like it before, your hands glided over any free expanse of skin you could reach, memorising how the muscles hidden beneath curved and jumped at your touch. Never once did your eyes stray, wanting to remember every little detail. You wanted your art to be perfect, after all, to represent the real thing as closely as possible and that meant every little detail in their complete glory.

Your eyebrows furrowed as the white robe blocked you off, and so you slightly slid it off from one of Chan's shoulders. His hold on you tightened and you glanced at him briefly, seeing an intensity burning in those dark eyes, one you had never seen before.

You were playing with fire, and you could feel the heat of the danger.

Despite the clear wanting signs, you ignored them much like Icarus, hands now gliding down your lover's arm. Each touch held meaning, praising him in silence, singing odes about this man’s beauty. There was something so intriguing about watching the muscles connect to skin and bone, oh so perfectly toned and reacting to every touch of yours.

You stepped even closer, breaths mingling together as you reached into his robe, mapping out the vast skin of your partner's back. Every dip, every rise and imperfection was noted inside your head, the scorching star in Chan's eyes only growing in intensity as time passed. Your eyes flitted between those deadly stars and his neck, seeing it strain, muscles so tight that they jumped out of the skin in that lovely V-shape you could never grow bored of.

Then, as if something snapped, he gripped your waist with incredible force, not giving you a chance to escape. Despite that, no fear took residence inside you, your now warm fingers still laid peacefully on his shoulders.

“And what do I owe this extremely special moment to, baby?” - his words were a deep rumble, eyes begging for an answer with desperation.

“For being the most beautiful human to grace this planet, my wonderful love. Be my muse, please. Let me draw you, let me study you.” - you answered, one hand now cupping Chan's cheek tenderly, despite the uniquely heated situation.

As if that was the magic word to undo his binding, your lover moved, hauling your taller form easily onto the bed with him. There you were now, sat on his lap as he looked up at you expectantly, the intensity and love never diminishing in those bright eyes of his. Your sketchbook was still sitting beside you on the bed where you had originally thrown it at, hands itching to take it and immortalise what you had engraved into your mind in the past few minutes.

“I'll be your muse whenever, baby. All you needed to do was ask.”

[bluebells-and-dragonflies]

Can I request Reader asking Astarion nervously if you can spank him? Only if he's interested & after discussing about his boundaries & safe words!

Just for you, beloved anon.

NSFW below the cut! Mind the tags, and minors, please don't interact!

"So, I have a proposition for you," you begin, leaning back against the counter. Your heart pounds in your chest, but you try as hard as you can to push your apprehension down. He'd told you to be honest, after all. He'd told you to ask.

Astarion lifts his head from the book he's reading at the table in the middle of your kitchen, attention immediately redirected to you. He closes it without looking away from your face. "Oh? Do tell. You always have the most interesting ideas."

You grin at him at the same time he grins at you, and you both have to stifle a laugh. Your ideas are very interesting, if you do say so yourself. Astarion certainly tends to think so, if the way he'd flushed the time you suggested fucking him instead of the other way round was any indication.

It takes real effort to draw your focus back to the conversation at hand instead of reminiscing on where that particular discussion had led. "I was thinking about things I might like to try, like we talked about."

Astarion straightens in his chair. "Go on."

"And I came up with something else." You take a breath. There's really no good way to say it, so you just brace youself and hope for the best. "I want to try spanking. Spanking you. So do with that what you will."

There's a heavy silence once you've spoken, the two of you staring at each other in a beat of mutual thought. Anxiety surges in your chest as you watch his face, looking for any sign of discomfort or disgust. The last time you talked about sex and limits, you'd promised each other that you'd share any fantasies that came up. Astarion wants to experiment as much as possible, wants to find out what he likes, and he said he would at least consider virtually anything. But this is something you haven't tried yet: you haven't ever taken the more dominant role when those dynamics come into play. It could be a problem, you know that, and of course you're afraid that even asking will remind him of things he'd rather forget. But you want to give him the opportunity to say yes or no instead of making his decisions for him.

A slow smile starts to spread across Astarion's face as he stands up from his chair, crossing the space between you in two strides and pressing so close that you have to crane your neck up to see him properly. His fangs flash over his bottom lip, his eyes darken, and when he croons "Well, darling, I think I could be amenable," you're flooded with the heat of knowing he wants it as bad as you do.

So it is that you find yourself watching Astarion undress himself before you as you sit on the side of your bed, fully clothed. You're long past any need for modesty with each other, and he flashes you a sultry smirk as he pulls his shirt over his head.

"Same safe-words as always?" you ask. Astarion tugs his trousers down, and you get a rather delightful view of the toned muscles in his thighs as he kicks them off (and across the room, but that's something to deal with later).

"Fine with me," he says. "'Dagger' for stop. Snap of the fingers if we can't talk." His underwear goes the same way as his trousers, and before you know it he's straddling your lap, arms thrown around your neck. His lips are on yours almost instantly, and you kiss him back with pure muscle memory, raising your hands to cup his face and run your fingers through his curls. When you tug ever-so-gently, you're rewarded with the smallest moan into your mouth.

It takes the better part of fifteen minutes to get completely situated- you're entirely unable to keep your hands off of each other, and at one point Astarion nearly derails the whole thing by pinching your nipples through the fabric of your shirt- but you get there eventually. Astarion lies over your lap, facedown, his ass exposed to you. He rests his head on his arms and wiggles a little as he settles.

"Are you ready?" you ask, sliding your palm over the smooth skin of his lower back.

"Yes," he says, and no more than that. Before you have time to talk yourself out of it, you cup one of his cheeks, then quickly smack it with the flattest part of your hand.

It's not a particularly hard blow, but Astarion jolts a bit anyway, his cock dragging against the inner part of your thigh. He takes a breath- one, two, three- and you see his fingers flex in the fabric of the bedspread.

"Again," he hisses. "Gods- again," and his voice is low and strained and almost unbelievably fucking hot, and you've never been good at saying no to him. Every time you hit him, he tells you again, more. Every time you hit him, he seems to grow harder against you. You spank him again and again, alternating between cheeks, hitting every part of his ass until his skin glows pink., and you're raising your hand to deliver another blow when he stumbles on his demand.

Your hand stills. "Is this alright?"

Astarion lifts his head to look over his shoulder at you incredulously. "Are you serious?"

"I just want to hear you say it."

You can almost physically see him biting back whatever quip or barb has sprung to the tip of his tongue. "Yes, darling," he says instead, letting his head fall back down to the mattress. "It's alright. It's- it's good."

Reassured, you raise your hand. Astarion tenses when you pull away, already anticipating the next blow. it's obvious that he's expecting it (and that he wants it- he's grinding shallowly against your thigh, little aborted thrusts of his hips that he's clearly struggling to keep control of), but you refuse to give it to him, just for a second. Instead, you trail your fingertips up his side and relish in the reaction you get: a soft sigh and a gorgeous shiver.

He does look good like this, you think to yourself as you squeeze his hip just enough to win a short little gasp. What a privilege to be the one to get to see it. His ass has blushed a very pretty shade of pink where he's taken your blows. Something deep in your belly twists at the knowledge that it's your blood that courses through his veins. Your blood that fills the hard cock digging insistently into your inner thigh.

"How many more do you think, darling?" you murmur, running a soothing hand up his spine and into the downy hair at the nape of his neck. "Tell me what you want. Tell me what will get you there."

He hesitates only a moment. "Twenty." His voice is steadier than you would have thought. "Give me twenty. I..I want to know how it feels."

"Alright, love." Your hand returns to the curve of his ass. You gently press your fingertips into his reddened skin and admire the pale marks left behind.

Later, you'll remember as clearly as if you're living through it again. On the first hit, Astarion gasps, a sharp inhale of breath that he doesn't need or mean to take. On the fifth hit, he starts making sounds in the back of his throat, punched-out little ah-ah-ahs as your hand connects with his ass again and again. On the eleventh hit, Astarion begins to lose control of the movement of his body, and the restrained grind of his cock against your thighs becomes more and more frantic. On the sixteenth hit, he cries out, genuinely cries out, a wordless shout of pain and pleasure. He doesn't say his safe-word, doesn't signal you, just writhes in your lap alive with arousal and need. And on the nineteenth hit, he comes with a wanton, aching moan, unable to stop himself from leaving your thighs an absolute mess. You stop there, and when you gently brush the sweat-soaked hair from his forehead and whisper "thank you," Astarion smiles at you like you've lit the sun.

Afterward, there are hours (maybe even days) of aftercare, and the two of you discuss every single part of what you've done together: what you liked best, what you want to do again, what felt good. The next time you find yourself in the same position, it's him who asks you, a pink flush at the tips of his ears. For now, though, you're content to take care of him.

[hippiegoth97]

Into the Fire: An Eddie Munson x Reader Story Pt. Five

Collage by me :)

Masterlist

Part 4

Tag List: @rafescurtainbangz @voyeurmunson @xxbimbobunnyxx @taintedcigs @mediocredreams

@slowandsteddie @angel-munson @eldermayfield @munsonsbtch @babygorewhore

@rattkween86 @violetpixiedust @bimbobaggins69 @purplehazed-h @morning-rituals

@eddie-van-munson @msgexymunson @munsoneightysixx @impmunson @mysticalstar30

@jenniquinn @oneforthemunny @succubusmunson @ddeadly-succubus @prettyboyeddiemunson

@sanctumdemunson @stalactitekilla @s6raphic @hellfirenacht @birdysaturne

@ohmeg @h-ness1944 @pretendthisnameisclever @ahoyyharrington @micheledawn1975

@costellation-hunter @josephquinnsfreckles @leelei1980 @yourdailymemedelivery @spacedoutdaydreamer

Content Warning 18+ Only, Minors DNI: Swearing, drug references, angst, arguing, mentions of domestic violence, crying, smut, fingering, degradation/praise, squirting, unprotected sex, rough sex, choking, crying, anxiety, smoking

Word Count: 12.4k

Divider by @strangergraphics

Part 5.1: Y/N Henderson's Day Off

Tuesday, March 14th, 1989

"Oh, fuck! Fuck! Shit! Shit, shit, shit!" Eddie hears you shouting frantically as he wakes up this morning. His eyes pry themselves open, squinting to see what you're up to. You're putting your clothes on in a panic, clumsily rubbing deodorant under your arms and brushing your hair in a rushed manner. 

He glances at the clock, which reads 10:08am. Shit. "Oh, no. I forgot to set the alarm. I'm so sorry, baby." Eddie says sleepily, sitting up in bed to look at you.

"It’s not your fault. I should've made sure you did.” You shake your head at him, refusing to let him take the blame. “Fuck! I'm so fucking late! Mom's gonna have a cow!" You groan as you shove your extra belongings into your bag, running to the bathroom to finish getting ready. Eddie slips on some jeans, following behind you. He finds you gripping the sink nervously as you brush your teeth, meeting your eyes in the mirror. "Would you mind getting dressed, please? We have to go, like, right now." You practically bark at him with the toothbrush in your mouth.

He places his hands on your shoulders, rubbing them with care. He peers at you in the reflection, smiling warmly. "Y/N, you need to relax. It's one day. You're already late, there's no changing that. So, just take your time, 'kay? Or...if you want, we can call you in sick and you can spend the day with me." Eddie smirks, tempting you to play hooky.

"I really shouldn't, Eds. Don't you have things to do today?" You question, spitting toothpaste into the sink and rinsing your brush.

"Well, yeah. Just a couple deals, and picking up your bike. No work, though.  We could watch the other videos I rented, too." He pulls your hair to the side, gingerly kissing your neck.

"Eddie, you know I love spending time with you. I'm just worried that if I skip once for you, it might become a bad habit." You turn to face him, wrapping your arms around his neck. "It's hard enough to say no to you as it is. If you offer things like that all the time, it'll become impossible." You can't help being a bit scared of Eddie's idea. You've always been told that skipping school is one of the worst things you could do. He's already got such a hold on you, it oddly feels like you're disobeying him.

"Sweetheart, I'm not gonna derail your future with one fake sick day. I promise you, I'm not making this a habit. I wouldn't do that, because I know school is important to you. Ya know, I may be the town degenerate, but do you really think I wanna drag you down with me?" Eddie looks into your eyes meaningfully, driving home the fact that he cares about you. That he wouldn't jeopardize your grades just so he can spend time with you.

"I guess that's not a very kind thing for me to think, is it?" Your eyes fall to your feet, feeling silly about the whole thing. What's one day, really? Sure, you'll have make-up work to do, but that's easy. "Alright, I'll call in. But only this one time, I mean it!" You point a stern finger in his face. He playfully tries to bite it, but you snatch it away. You go to the phone and quickly dial the college front desk, trying your best to sound sick as you tell them you won't be in today. You're struck by a pang of guilt after the call. Mom would hate that you're doing this. You don't like being dishonest, but Eddie insists it won't kill you. You can always trust him, right?

"All set?" Eddie asks as you put the phone back on the hook. You just nod, conflicted about your feelings. He sighs. "It'll be fine, darling. I promise. Now, how about I cook you some breakfast? I make some killer French toast." He offers, gesturing toward the kitchen.

You silently walk to the small dining table, and Eddie follows behind you. He opens the fridge to retrieve some eggs, setting to work at making you both some food. There's a radio sitting on the windowsill above the sink, and he clicks it on to a rock station. His back is to you, and he’s intently waiting for you to speak. "Do you cook a lot, Eds? I never took you for a chef." You ask as he cracks some eggs open into a bowl.

"Nah, not really. I only know how to make this, and spaghetti. But I doubt you want pasta for breakfast." He replies jokingly, making you giggle.

"Definitely not. But, you also know how to make a great PB&J. Don't forget that one." You politely point out. He nods in agreement, beating the eggs with a fork.

"How many pieces of toast do you want?" He asks over his shoulder.

"Um, three should be enough." You don't exactly have much of an appetite, you're still mentally kicking yourself for taking the day off.

"Comin' right up, baby." He heats up a pan on the stove, dropping some butter into it. It sizzles and melts, and he dips the first piece of bread into the egg mix. You watch him cook, admiring how he looks from behind. He's still topless, so you stare at the muscles in his back as they move. His jeans hug his ass perfectly, the waistband of his boxers sticking out slightly. You're tempted to get up and wrap your arms around his waist, but it’s probably best to stay out of his way. You figure you can keep your hands to yourself for a few minutes, and you don't want Eddie to burn himself if you catch him by surprise.

No words come to mind for you to keep up a conversation, leaving to enjoy one another’s company in silence. You listen to the radio, letting your mind drift into daydreams about what you and Eddie might do together in the future. Long drives, going to the movies, him helping you make a character for D&D, the list goes on. You could easily spend every waking moment with him, maybe even the rest of your life. However, that's a conversation for another day. It's way too soon to discuss a long-term relationship, but you've never felt like this about anyone before.

"Drifting off again, I see. Shit, I oughta call you 'Sputnik' with how often you space out." Eddie says in your ear as he lowers your plate onto the table. You jump in your seat, your knee hitting the underside of the table. He chuckles, taking the seat across from you. "Sorry, princess. Just don't want your food to get cold. You're very cute when you're daydreaming, though."

"Thanks, Eds. And thank you for the food, it's really sweet of you." You gaze at him from the other end of the table, reaching your foot underneath it to rub against his. He smirks at you, letting your feet play below the two of you while you eat. You pick up your fork and cut into the French toast, gathering a large bite before bringing it to your lips. It's dripping in syrup, almost getting onto your shirt as you take it in your mouth. When it hits your taste buds, you can't help the slight moan you let out. The toast is perfectly buttery, and you taste cinnamon as well. Mixed with the sweet syrup, it's possibly the best breakfast you've ever had.

"What do you think?" Eddie asks, winking at you as his foot continues to battle lazily with yours.

You can't help blurting out immense praise for his cooking. "It's so fucking good, Eds! Probably the best I've ever had." You dive back in for another bite, and another, ravenously devouring your entire plate. You hope you don't look too disgusting, eating like this. But Eddie seems to take it as a compliment.

"That good, huh? I can make more if you want." He offers as you bring the final bite into your mouth.

You chew rapidly, swallowing hard. "No, this was plenty. Really good, though." You smile at him, a drip of syrup rolling down your chin.

"God, you're such a mess. C'mere." Eddie chuckles as he beckons you to him. You get out of your chair, standing beside him. He grabs your hips, bringing you down onto his lap. You instinctively put your arms around him, sitting down sideways. His face is so close to yours, you can't help the hoard of butterflies rumbling around inside you as his breath fans over you. His eyes flick to yours, then to your chin. He leans in, licking the syrup away. His tongue travels upwards to your lips, and he kisses you passionately. His grip on you tightens, and you can feel him growing hard beneath you.

Your mouths move together roughly, tongues and teeth gnashing in a battle for dominance. Eddie's just about to win the fight, when his uncle walks through the front door of the trailer. "Mornin', kiddos." Wayne calls, not noticing the position you're in. You quickly break away, trying to conceal your heavy breathing. You stay on Eddie's lap, however, the position alone isn't vulgar in itself. Although, Eddie's erection suggests otherwise. "Did ya sleep alright?" Wayne asks you. He looks tired, his shift at the plant hasn't been kind to him.

"Yes, sir! Like a log!" You say, blushing at how cheesy that sounds.

"Glad to hear it, Y/N. And please, call me Wayne. I ain't nobody special enough to be called 'sir'." Wayne chuckles, pleased to see you and Eddie cuddled up together in his kitchen. Young love is a good look on his nephew.

"Oh, okay. Wayne." You correct yourself, laying your head on Eddie's shoulder.

"How'd work go, Wayne?" Eddie asks, watching his uncle sit in his recliner to unlace his work boots.

"Ah, ya know, usual bullshit. They laid off ‘bout twenty fellas last night, claimin' a recession or some shit. They also say there'll be more by the end of the season." Wayne says sullenly, sighing. You can't help being worried about him, and you look at Eddie to see his reaction. He appears about the same, his eyes pointing down at the floor. You figure he's pondering what might happen if Wayne is let go, too.

“I can help out with money if you need it. It's the least I can do, since you took me in and all." Eddie suggests, eager to help. But Wayne's expression quickly changes from melancholy to frustration.

"Now, you listen here, boy. I've told ya once, and I'll keep tellin' ya. You don't need to do that. You got your own life to worry about, and I ain't gonna take any fuckin' charity either. I'm not on that 'ol choppin' block just yet. And even if I do end up there, I'll find another shit job just fine. I don't wanna hear another word of this, ya hear me?" He scolds his nephew good and proper, unwilling to take a single cent from him. It wouldn’t be right.

Your eyes widen, taken aback by his sudden aggravation. You can understand though, Wayne seems like a man who prides himself on being independent. He reminds you of yourself, unwilling to let others help you, even if you might need it.

Eddie nods his head, feeling guilty for even suggesting that his uncle can't do just fine on his own. It's not what he meant to do, but a man of Wayne's disposition doesn't take kindly to being treated like a charity case. "Alright, I'm sorry. I won't bring it up again." He says quietly, and you notice his eyes pricking with tears.

"You're damn right. Now, I'm goin' to bed. Try to keep the noise down, alright?" He pulls out the roll-up mattress from the corner of the room, undoing the clasps to lay it out on the floor. He snatches a blanket from the couch, laying down aggressively. He huffs, trying to get comfortable.

You glance at Eddie again, you notice he’d tensed up as Wayne spoke a moment ago. You kiss his cheek, leaving his lap. You grab the empty plates, quietly rinsing them off in the sink to be washed later. You click the radio off, letting his uncle have some quiet while he rests. You return to Eddie’s side, rubbing his shoulder. "Baby, let's go to your room, hm? You gotta get dressed." You suggest in a whisper. He stands wordlessly, the chair scraping on the floor. He begrudgingly follows you down the hall, slouching onto the bed once you're in his room again. You close the door silently, leaning against it. “Baby, what's wrong?" You ask cautiously, not wanting to upset him further.

"It's nothing. I'm fine." Eddie sniffles, sadness lacing his voice. You take a seat beside him, holding his hand in yours. He glances at your joined hands, but he won't look directly at you.

"Baby, please. I can tell what Wayne said upset you, and I understand why. Talk to me. I'm here for you." You squeeze his hand to reassure him. He clears his throat, preparing to speak.

"I just一" His voice shudders a moment, and he struggles to keep his composure. "I'm just worried about him, ya know? I know he can take care of himself, but what if he does get laid off? And what if he can't find work? We could get the electric and water shut off, or worse. We could lose our home." Frustrated tears fall from his eyes, but he continues. "But no matter how much I offer to help, he just won't take it. He's the only one in my family that wanted to take me in after Mom died and Dad ended up in prison. Nobody wanted 'Eddie, the problem child'. Wayne didn't give it a second thought. He’s taken care of me the best he can, and I just want to repay him for that. But the stubborn fucker won't let me." He finally meets your gaze, his large brown eyes glistening and red. Your chest tightens with sympathy, heartbroken to see Eddie so upset. You didn't previously know the exact circumstances of Eddie's living arrangements with his uncle, it’s apparently something Eddie kept close to the chest. You, of all people, can understand why.

"Oh, Eddie. Come here, baby." You pull him to you, hugging him tightly. He clings onto you, letting the sobs leave him once he can hide his face against your shoulder. "Darling, I promise everything will be okay. It's good that you care so much." You stroke his hair as you speak, trying to calm him down. "You don't have to worry. Like he said, he still has a job. Yes, that could change, but it's unlikely you'll end up on the street, okay? Honestly, if it came down to it, you could both come live at my house. I'm sure I'm not the only one who would welcome you into their home, either. But I'm also sure it won't be necessary." You continue to caress Eddie's hair, rocking him side to side in your arms. His sobs dissipate, his breathing steadying gradually. You feel a damp spot on your shirt from his tears, but you don't mind. All that matters is making him feel better about his worries. He’s handled yours so well, you'd made the assumption that he didn't have any of his own. You feel selfish for thinking so, but how could you know when he hadn't told you? 

He sits up, wiping his eyes with his palms. He smiles weakly at you. "Guess it was my turn to bring on the waterworks." He scoffs, sniffling again.

"It's alright, Eds. I'm glad you told me. I know that wasn't easy for you, but it brings us closer together. I want to be there for you, the way you are for me." You grab his hand again, bringing it to your lips to place a soft kiss to it. He exhales heavily, watching as you lead a trail up his arm with your mouth. You kiss his wrist, up to his forearm, stopping at his elbow. "Should I keep going?" You ask, not wanting to push him if he's not up for being touched.

"Please." He replies, barely above a whisper.

"Lay down, baby." You scoot over, allowing Eddie to rest his head on the pillow. You straddle him, lowering your head to kiss his lips. Your mouths meet with gentle tenderness, and you want to keep things light. You don't think either of you are in a particular mood for sex right now. But you're determined to comfort him with affection and intimacy. You pull away, gazing down at him. His hand cups your cheek, warming your skin. "Hey, there. You feelin’ better yet?"

"Getting there. Think I could use a few more kisses, though." He smiles, sliding his hand behind your neck to bring you back to him. The two of you keep kissing, not caring about going any further. All that matters right now is being close to one another. You slide off his lap, laying beside him as your lips continue to touch. You put your leg over his, trying to get as close to him as you can. Eddie's gone hard again, straining his jeans. You glance down at it, before looking in his eyes.

"Do you want me to..." You gesture at his crotch, but he shakes his head.

"Nah, I'm alright. You just have a strong effect on me. Maybe later?" He kisses your forehead, wrapping his arms around you. You lay your head in his chest, your breathing falling in sync with his. The two of you lay like this for a while, occasionally exchanging another kiss on the lips or neck. "What time is it, sweetheart?" Eddie eventually asks, brushing some loose hair behind your ear.

You lean over to look at the clock, surprised at how much time has passed. "11:30."

"Shit, really? I better get dressed then." Eddie pushes you gently off of him, digging through the clothes piles to find a clean shirt. He picks up a Judas Priest tee, slipping it over his head after it passes the sniff test. He pulls his hair and necklace out from under it, going to the mirror to fix his wild mane. "You wanna come along with me? You can stay here if you want, but it's kinda boring." He says as he struggles to work a brush through his tangled locks.

"Of course I'm going with you! What kind of girlfriend would I be if I didn't? Here, let me help." You hop off the bed to assist Eddie with his hair. He hands the brush over to you, and you begin running the bristles through his thick curls as gently as you can. He watches you moving behind him as you help, moaning involuntarily when the brush rubs against his scalp. You smirk at his reaction in the reflection. His cheeks go pink, and he clears his throat sheepishly as he avoids your eyes. "I like it when you blush, it's really cute." You giggle, continuing your task.

"Ow!" He grunts with gritted teeth when you hit a snag, his features scrunching in pain. Your hand rests on his shoulder to calm him.

"Sorry, baby. I'm almost done." You get through the knot, making final strokes through all of his locks to check your work. The brush swipes along easily, and you set it down on the dresser. Eddie grabs the SpeedStick from his small collection of grooming products, haphazardly rubbing it into his armpits under his shirt. He turns to you once he's ready, grabbing your waist.

"Thanks for the help, princess. I appreciate it." He gives you a quick kiss. "You ready to go?" He asks, reaching for his shoes. He slips them on, and grabs his lunchbox where he keeps his drugs.

"Yeah, in a sec." You sit down to pull your Converse onto your feet. You take a moment to tie the laces tightly, standing up again. "All set." You hold Eddie's hand in yours, eagerly heading out of his room for the front door. He grabs his layered jacket and vest, folding them over his elbow. You pull the door open, tugging Eddie along with you.

"What are you so eager for, angel? Dealing drugs isn't as flashy as it looks on TV." He smirks, curious about your motivation to head out into the cool spring air.

"I'm excited to spend the day with you, and to see what you get up to when I'm not around. It interests me." You smile gleefully, giggling again.

"You sure it has nothing to do with you being nervous about skipping classes? Your enthusiasm is a bit unnerving." He smiles awkwardly, concerned about your sudden cheerful mood.

"Maybe a little. Can you blame me? I've never done this before, and it’s kinda scary. But also thrilling." You blush, realizing how childish you sound. "Jesus, I sound like a damn teenager." You turn away from him, walking over to the van. He follows your lead, fiddling in his pockets for his cigarettes. You climb into the passenger side, sulking into the worn leather seat. Eddie slides in opposite you, pulling the creaky door shut. He's got two cigarettes in his mouth, lighting them as he puts his seat belt on. He hands one to you, and you take it out of habit.

"Hey, look at me." He says. You flick your eyes in his direction, sighing out a cloud of smoke. "I admit, it is a bit ridiculous that you've never stepped a toe out of line before. But you're not stupid, or embarrassing, or whatever you think you are right now. 'Kay?"

"Alright." You reply simply, inhaling more nicotine. You can't help enjoying the lightness that fills your head as you smoke. "You're a bad influence, you know that?" You say dumbly, smiling wide at him again.

“I would damn well hope so, sweetheart. Fuck knows you could benefit from it." He laughs, pulling away from the trailer.

"So, where to first?" You ask, hoping you don’t sound nosey about his customers.

He takes a moment to think, unsure if you'd truly want to know who he sells to in this town. "Um, well my first sale of the day is someone you know, actually. Chrissy Cunningham, well, Carver now."

You snort in disbelief. "No fuckin' way, the cheerleader?! Jeez, I never saw that one coming. I haven't really seen her around much once Jason knocked her up just before graduation. I wonder how that marriage is panning out."

"She's, um, alright. Jason works a lot at his father's company. So, she's stuck at home dealing with their rugrat all by herself." His tone is sad, and you immediately feel bad for ragging on Chrissy like that.

"I’m sorry. I didn't realize you were close with her." You finish your smoke, squashing the butt into the ashtray.

"Nah, it's fine. You couldn't have known." He shakes his head, reassuring you by placing a hand on your knee. "And I get it, they weren't exactly great people in high school. But Chrissy seems to have changed, I'm guessing having a child will do that. Though, by the sounds of it, Jason is the same fuckin' asshole today that he was back then. He doesn't even know I sell to her, I don't imagine he would take it well." His eyes are focused on the road, but there's an odd expression on his face.

"Well, I wouldn't mind saying 'hi', if that's alright. I don't wanna interfere." You offer, trying to be considerate.

"Yeah, I think she'd enjoy that, actually. Like you said, she doesn't get out much." He glances at you, a kind grin washing over his face. He appreciates you genuinely caring about what he gets up to, it makes his heart swell with admiration for you.

"Is their kid cute? Do you know its name?" You don't mean to interrogate him, but you're curious about the situation.

"I've only seen him once, but yeah, he's pretty cute. Chubby cheeks and all that. His name is JJ, which stands for Jason Jr." Eddie chuckles at that last bit, and you laugh too. "Yeah, I wish I was kidding. It's not the name she picked, but you know Jason. It's his way, or the highway." He rolls his eyes, sighing at the thought.

"What name did Chrissy want?" The more you hear about her life, the sadder you feel on her behalf.

"Thomas. After her grandfather, I think." Eddie answers.

"Oh, that's definitely a better choice. How do you know so much about her anyways?" A tone of jealousy taints your words, though you don't mean to. The air between you goes tense, both of you proceeding with caution.

"She invites me in, gives me coffee before we make the transaction. I feel bad for her, so I let her talk for a while. I don't think she has anyone else to do that with. It's nothing to worry about. She's a very dutiful wife. And I am only concerned with pursuing you." He explains, catching on to your suspicion. 

Guilt washes over you again, worried that he thinks you don't trust him. "I know, I didn't mean to insinuate anything. I'm not threatened by her, I promise."

"Good, I would hate for you to worry about me when there's no need. You already worry too much about everything else." He teases, poking your ribs. You giggle at his touch, it tickles. The atmosphere clears again, no longer tinged with the potential for a fight. A few minutes later, Eddie pulls into the driveway of the Carver household. Eddie puts the van in park, grabbing his lunchbox. "Wait here for a minute, I wanna make sure she's alright with you coming in."

"For sure. I'll be here." You lean forward to kiss him, and he happily meets you halfway. It doesn't last long, you imagine he's got a schedule to follow. He hops out, jogging to Chrissy's door. You watch his ass, admiring how perfect it is. Not just any guy has an ass like that, but Eddie isn't like any guy. You lick your lips, observing the scene of him knocking on the door, and Chrissy opening it. He gestures towards you as he speaks, and she nods to give you permission to come inside. He turns to you, waving you over.

You get out of the van, walking up to them nervously. It's been so long since you’ve interacted with her. She’s like a completely different person. Her hair is very long, falling halfway down her back. She's wearing minimal makeup, and a simple pink dress with an apron around her waist. She's so pretty, but more mature looking. You notice bags under her eyes, and bruises on her arms. She seems so tired, and you can't imagine those purple marks came from the baby.

"Y/N, it's so good to see you! How have you been?" Chrissy asks you, smiling wide despite her clear exhaustion.

"Oh, I'm doing alright. Been busy with school, and Eddie." You say meekly, her willingness to ignore the clear problems in her life sets you on edge.

"Yeah, Eddie was briefly telling me about you. I always knew you'd end up together, the way you looked at him in school was so heartbreakingly adorable!" She gushes, but you can't tell if it's genuine or not. You doubt she remembers you all that well. "Come inside, I just made a pot of coffee, and there's brownies fresh from the oven!" She makes room for you both to step inside, closing the door behind you after checking to see that nobody else is around. "Have a seat." She says, and you happily oblige.

The three of you sit at the kitchen table after Chrissy dishes out the coffee and brownies. You take a bite, moaning at how perfectly moist it is. "These are so good, Chrissy! You're a really good baker." You compliment, making her blush.

"Oh, stop! They're just Betty Crocker from the box. I'm glad you like them, though." She smiles wide again, looking like a porcelain doll. "So, Eddie, what have you got for me?" She turns to him, her expression changing. Her pupils dilate, and she fidgets with her fingers. Eddie shares a look with you, mentally telling you to keep it cool. You nod discreetly, understanding the situation.

"Do you want the usual, Chris?" He asks, and she quickly nods.

"Yes, please." She reaches in her apron pocket, pulling out some cash. Eddie digs around in his box, taking out a bag of weed, some cocaine, and some pills you don’t recognize.

"Here you go, ma'am." He says with faux professionalism, and she laughs. The money and drugs change hands, and Eddie closes the box tightly. You sit in awkward silence for a moment, unsure of what to do or say.

"So, how's Jason?" You ask, breaking the silence. Eddie throws a strange look in your direction, warning with his eyes to tread lightly. Chrissy's smile falls away for a moment, before being plastered back on a second later.

"He's great, but he’s pretty busy with work. He was lucky enough to get a job at his father's car dealership. He makes very good money. We're getting a swimming pool put in soon!" She sounds rehearsed, like Jason trained her on what to say when people ask about their life.

"That's great! I'm really happy for you." You reach a hand over to rest over hers, trying to let her know she doesn't have to pretend around you. She just glances down at it, carrying on like nothing is happening. "You guys have a kid, right?" You decide to push her, gently, in an effort to get the truth from her.

"Yes! A son, named JJ! He's sleeping now, actually. We named him after Jason." Her eyes change, but that damn creepy smile stays glued to her face.

"How sweet! I bet he's got the best features from both of you. And I'm sure you guys are the best parents." You reply, contemplating where to go from here. "Would you wanna hang out sometime? Maybe come over to my place for a girls night to catch up? I can't imagine it's too fun to be cooped up in the house all the time." You suggest in a friendly tone. Her face stiffens, the smile fading away. Eddie stares at you, slowly shaking his head in your direction.

"I appreciate the offer, Y/N. But it's impossible to find a sitter these days, and it's not so bad. I like taking care of my son, and my husband. I think you both should leave now, I'd hate to delay your sales, Eddie." She stares into your eyes, her face going red. She's gone defensive, meanwhile a single tear rolls down her cheek. You're frightened. Of her, and for her. You wish you could get her out of here, help her break away from Jason. But you can't force someone to get help when they don't want it.

You clumsily leave the table. "Alright, well, thanks for the coffee, and the brownies. See you around, Chrissy." You fumble over your words, and Eddie grabs your arm roughly.

"I'll see you next time, Chris. Take care of yourself." He says, trying to hold back his rage until you get back to the van. You walk out of the house, with Eddie pulling you down the driveway.

"Eddie, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to cause any trouble." You try to stop his pulling, to calm him down. But he keeps dragging you along.

"Get in the fucking van, Y/N. I'm not yelling in the goddamn driveway outside her house." His eyes burn intensely at you, and your stomach flips. You've really done it now. You do as he says, scrambling into your seat. He gets in as well, slamming the door shut. He turns to you, looking absolutely pissed. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" He shouts, making you flinch.

"I just felt bad for her, Eddie. She's clearly being abused by Jason. Did you know about this? Why didn't you call the police or something?" You yell back, angry that he would let something like this go unchecked.

"Oh, right! Like me, a fucking drug dealer, is gonna to call the cops. Then what happens? I get busted. Chrissy gets busted. Jason beats her even harder, and their son gets taken away. How does that shit help anybody? Hm? It's not my fucking job to save people, Y/N. I sell drugs, I'm not Superman." He fires back, but you don't want to back down.

"I'm not saying to call while you're in the middle of a fucking deal, Eddie! You could just tell them you saw her at the store with bruises or something, or told someone about it and they could've reported it. Does Wayne know? Probably not, right? Wouldn't want doing the right thing to get in the way of a fucking sale!" You snap, gasping at your own words once they’ve already left your mouth. You really shouldn’t have gone there.

His jaw falls open, his face turning beet red at your accusation. "Oh, that's real fuckin' nice, princess! Do you think I don't want to help her? Of course I do! I've thought about every possible way to do that, and how it ends. You've seen the cops in this town, they can't do shit! You think they care about domestic violence? No, they're too busy busting people like me for selling pot, and stupid kids making out at Lover's Lake. All it would do is put Chrissy in more danger, and then the whole town pities and judges her. Would you want that if you were in her shoes, Y/N? Tell me, honestly!" 

You're shocked at his rebuttal, and you regret everything you’ve said. You should know better than to cast such a low blow. You feel sick to your stomach. "No, I wouldnt." You murmur, looking down at your feet in shame.

"You're damn right! Now, can I level with you, Y/N?" He asks, trying to calm himself down. You nod apprehensively, dreading what might come next. "Okay, I'd like you to look at me, please." You slowly meet his gaze again, trying not to cry, or vomit. "Good. Now, I think it's really fucking shitty to imply that I care so little for other's well-being, that I'd let something like this keep going for the sake of making a quick buck. That's really awful of you to say, you should know me better than that." His calm tone is odd, you're worried where he's going with this. "Second, I don't think you have any business prying into other people's bullshit. Chrissy clearly doesn't want help, and nothing good can come of forcing her into telling on Jason. I want you to promise me you won't tell anyone about this, got it?" You nod again, unable to speak. "I want to hear you say it, Y/N. I mean it, I'm not fuckin' around."

"I promise. I'm sorry, Eddie, really I一" You try to explain it away, but he cuts you off.

"I know. You said that already. Look, I get it, things got heated. But I'm having a hard time getting over what you implied about me. I don't like being described as someone who takes advantage of other people."

"I didn't mean it, I just一" You attempt to speak, but he interrupts you again.

"If you didn't mean it, then why did you say it?" He asks seriously, and it’s a fair question.

"I was just shocked by the whole thing, Eddie. You didn't make it sound as bad as it is for her. And seeing her with the bruises, and that awful fake smile..." You wince, remembering how robotic Chrissy's face was. "I freaked out. I couldn't believe that she was going through something so terrible. I jumped to conclusions. I didn't consider the idea of you wanting to help, but being unable to. That was so fucking wrong of me. I honestly feel sick about it. And now I've hurt you. And I can say all the 'sorry's in the world, but that doesn't make it unsaid. I get it if I've fucked up everything, and if you don't want to keep seeing me. I earned that." You don't break down in tears like you thought you would, but a single salty drop runs down your face.

"I can't deny that I'm pretty fuckin' angry with you right now. But I have no intention of not seeing you anymore. People fight, Y/N. It's not the end of the world, or anything else. Look, let's try to move past this, alright? We have a few more stops to make. Are you alright staying with me?" He asks, holding your hands in his.

"Yeah. And again, I'm so sorry, really. You'll probably hear that fifty times today at least." You're only half-joking, but he seems to lighten up a bit at your words.

"Better make it a hundred." He quips, smiling weakly. He won't hide his mood from you, and you won't hide either. The rest of today probably won't be as lovey-dovey as you were hoping. But you'll work through it, eventually engaging in rough make-up sex when the timing's right. You quell your uneasiness. Everything will be alright, sooner or later.

Part 5.2: Hold on Loosely 

You spend the remainder of your time out with Eddie in his van, deciding to mind your own business as he finishes his sales for the day. He told you it’s okay to come along as long as you behave yourself, but you don't feel worthy of being in his company. You just sit quietly, waiting for him to return. You’ve smoked a lot of cigarettes today, wanting to at least fill the uncomfortable silence with the sound of sizzling embers and exhales of smoke clouds. After four more deals, Eddie’s finished with his business for the day. Next stop, picking up your repaired bicycle.

You space out again on the way there, wondering how long it'll take for this stupid fight to blow over. You wish it hadn't happened at all, the way you yelled in each other's faces until you turned red makes you feel queasy. It reminds you of the way Dad got into arguments with Mom all the time before he left. To see two people who claim to be in love yell and scream and say the most awful things to each other, it’s too much. You don't want to be like that, especially not with Eddie. Conflict frightens you, regardless if it can be resolved or not.

"I'll be right back." Eddie says nonchalantly. You realize you've arrived at the final stop of the outing. The wonder of getting stuck inside your own thoughts is not lost on you. You watch him retrieve your bike, sharing pleasantries with the man who you assume is the friend he told you about. He wheels the bike over to the back, placing it inside the same as he did that fateful Friday. He shuts the doors, perhaps a little too hard. The sound startles you, and you hear him curse under his breath. He climbs back into his seat, glancing at you sympathetically. "Sorry. I was a little rough there. I'm trying to be in a better mood, Y/N. Not quite sure when that'll be, though." He sighs.

"It's fine. I don't expect you to forgive me anytime soon." You sulk, avoiding his eyes.

"It's not fine, though. Stewing about the whole thing won't help either of us." He sighs again, reaching over to cup your cheek.

"I hate this." You huff, crossing your arms. "I just want to be over it already. I've never felt so terrible in my life. And that includes puking my guts out on Sunday."

"I know, sweetheart. I'm not doing so hot over here either. We can go back home and cuddle, if you want. Or, we could do something else...if you're up for it." He can't hide his devilish grin at the suggestion.

Your head snaps to him, brows furrowed. "Are you serious?" You can't exactly say you hate the idea, but you don't believe he seriously wants to fuck you right now. "You're messing with me, right?"

"I am deadly serious, angel. What do you say, wanna make up with me?" His lips twitch in amusement, awaiting your answer.

"If it'll make us stop being mad at each other, by all means, let's give it a shot." You scoff at how unbelievable he is.

"I know the perfect spot, baby. Shouldn't take long to get there." He chuckles, putting the van into gear again. He peels out of the lot like a madman, eager to have his way with you at whatever place he's taking you to now. You slowly recognize the route as he drives, piecing together where you're going. Skull. Fucking. Rock. Of course, the 'hardest' place he can think of to rail you into oblivion. He drives up to the edge of the woods, parking crookedly. He rushes out of the van, jogging to your side to pull you from your seat.

"Skull Rock, huh? How romantic." You comment sarcastically, and he roughly smacks your ass in response.

"Shut your mouth, you dirty little slut." He says into your ear, sending a chill down your spine. He pulls you through the trees, going down the foot-beaten path to the rock formation where all the local horndogs go. It doesn't take long before you reach the infamous spot, and Eddie roughly pushes you up against the rock. The hard surface hurts a little when you make contact, but you can't be bothered to give a shit. His lips attack yours hungrily, and he grips your ass in his hands. You moan against him, running your fingers deep into his hair. His lips move on to your neck, biting so hard he almost draws blood.

"Eddie!" You cry out, loving every bit of pain he inflicts on you. You want him to hurt you, to punish you for what you said. He marks you deep and hard with his teeth, drinking up every whine and whimper that falls from your lips. You're already so wet, your arousal soaking through your panties. His hands leave your ass, and he frantically unzips your jeans. He shoves his hand inside, rubbing your clit ferociously. You moan again, tugging on his hair harder than you have before.

"Fuck!" He pulls his mouth away, staring into your eyes with blazing pupils. "God, you're just begging for it at this point. Such a filthy girl." He growls, shoving two fingers inside your dripping cunt. You cry out, holding his shoulders for balance. He curls them inside you, making a squelching noise as your juices spread into his palm. He yanks his hand out of your pants, bringing his fingers to your lips. "Be a good girl and lick them clean, princess." He says, waiting for you to open your mouth.

You do as he asks, taking his fingers deeply and easily. You almost choke as you suck your juices from them. Eddie watches you in awe with his mouth agape. "Mmm." You moan around him, winking as you bite down on him playfully. He groans at the feeling of your teeth on his flesh, and you finally let him go. "Yummy." You giggle mischievously.

"Turn around." He commands, his tone darkening. You apprehensively do as he asks, anticipation running wild in your veins. You lean against the rock, placing your hands flat on its surface. Eddie pulls down your jeans and panties, leaving them around your ankles. You shiver as your pussy is exposed to the cool air. He spanks your ass again, harder this time. "Such a dirty little slut, letting me fuck you in the middle of the woods." He purrs in your ear, a shockwave of pleasure coursing through you at his words. You hear the jingle of his belt unbuckling, the sound of fabric tugging down his legs. He presses his body firmly against yours, holding his cock in his hand. Eddie drags his stiff length through your slick folds, causing you to moan simultaneously. "I want you to beg, Y/N. Beg me to fuck you like the whore you are." He orders.

"Please, fuck me, Eddie." You plead, almost whining. You can't take his teasing, the sensation of his dick rubbing on your clit is too much to bear.

"You'll have to do better than that." He barks through gritted teeth. He's dying to plunge into you, he's so hard it almost hurts. But he wants to make you pay for hurting him earlier, you need to beg for what you want.

"Please, fuck me. I need your dick inside me, Eddie. Go as hard as you want, I want you to hurt me. Please." You're nearly on the verge of tears, needing to feel him fill you up like no one else can.

"That's a good girl." He smirks, before slamming his cock into your cunt. You moan loudly, the sound echoing through the woods. Eddie grips your hips as hard as he can, his rings digging deep into your skin. He presses you further into the rock, your head resting against it sideways. Its smooth surface cools your skin, shocking your senses. He pulls out almost all the way, before slamming inside you again. He hammers into your pussy at a punishing pace, making you both so wound up it won't take long for you to cum. He's wasting no time, pounding into your g-spot with every stroke. "Fuck, you're so fuckin’ wet, baby. You like when I fuck you like this? Rough, and fast, and dirty? Where anyone could catch us?" He asks you a mindless stream of questions, savoring how tight you’re squeezing around his dick.

"Yes! Fuck, yes! I love it like this, fuck me harder, baby." You plead helplessly, egging him on. He appeases your request, thrusting even faster. To think, just a couple hours ago you were arguing like your parents. And now you're fucking like wild animals in the goddamn woods. The whole thing is so thrilling, part of you wants to get caught. An intense knot is building inside your belly, pulled tighter and tighter as Eddie fucks you mercilessly.

He brings his ringed hand to your throat, squeezing tightly. You moan at him cutting off your oxygen, making your head feel light. "You're such a dirty girl, moaning when I choke you like this." He lets you breathe, leaving you gasping for air.

"I'm getting close, Eds. Fuck, you feel so good. Make me cum, baby. Fill me up." You keep calling out dirty things to him as he screws you silly, the sound of his hips slapping against your ass filling the air.

"I’m almost there, too, angel. Fuck, your pussy is so hot and tight around my dick. And always soaking wet for me, such a good girl." He groans, breathing heavily. You're both soaked in sweat, your clothes sticking to your flesh as he continues to rut against you. His words drive you further toward the edge. He's so goddamn filthy like this and you can't get enough.

"Choke me again, baby…choke me while I cum." You whimper, tears rolling down your cheeks as your simmering orgasm quickly approaches. He obeys, squeezing even harder this time. Eddie's thrusts grow sloppy, signaling his own oncoming release. He keeps going to set you off with him, desperate to feel you lose it.

"Come on, sweetheart. Make a mess all over my cock, like a good little slut." He clumsily bites your earlobe, sending you crashing over the edge.

"Oh, god…fuck…EDDIE!" You scream as you cum, your legs shaking uncontrollably. Eddie holds you up, continuing to fuck you as your cunt clamps down onto his length. He groans, maintaining his pace as your walls milk him for all he's worth. Your release splashes down onto both of you, the warm liquid washing over his cock again. He swears he'll never grow tired of the phenomenal feeling it gives him.

"Fuck!" He shouts, his high prolonged by you squirting on him. He thrusts inside you a few more times, making your pussy spark with overstimulation. Eddie eventually slows down, carefully pulling out of you. You whine at the loss, and more arousal drips from your soaked cunt. He collapses onto you, panting loudly. "Jesus Christ." He huffs, planting a thoughtless kiss on your damp hair.

Your legs tremble like jelly, Eddie's weight on you is the only thing keeping you upright. Your insides clench around nothing, and tears stain your cheeks. "Do you forgive me now?" You ask meekly, trying to steady your breathing.

"Of course I do, angel." He replies, easing himself off of you to put his cock away. You fall to your knees, unable to stand anymore. "Shit, are you alright?" Eddie drops to your side, turning you around to look at him. He gasps at the bruise that’s formed on your cheek from being pressed into the rock. "Oh, Y/N, I'm so sorry." He touches your face, making you wince. "Jesus, why didn't you say something? I didn't want to hurt you like this." His eyes are blown wide with worry, and he won't stop fussing over you. But you're not bothered by how sore and bruised you are, you wanted it. At least, you thought you did.

"Eddie, it's fine. I'm fine, really. It's not your fault, baby I promise. I-I liked it, I swear." You avoid his eyes, stuttering your words. You're not sure who you're trying to convince more, him or yourself. You try to stand, pulling your jeans up clumsily. Eddie steadies you, letting you lean against him.

Once you're all done up, he looks deep into your eyes intensely. "Be honest with me, Y/N. Did you actually enjoy that, or are you just trying to please me?" He's serious, concerned as to why you're so keen to convince him that the bruise on your face means nothing.

"I mean...I really liked the sex. And I like the way you talk to me, and the choking, obviously. I guess…the bruise isn't great. I feel like I deserve it, though." You don't mean to say that last bit, hoping to keep the self-destructive thoughts to yourself for once. But as soon as the words leave your lips, it changes Eddie's expression instantly. His face drops deeper into sadness, his eyes widening in shock at your suggestion.

"Y/N. There is never going to be a time where you deserve to be hurt. Not by anyone, and especially not by me. I know you still feel bad about what you said, and that's okay. But you don't, under any circumstances, need to let me hurt you to make it better. From now on, if something hurts, you fuckin' say so. Do you understand?" He holds your hands tightly, waiting for you to answer. He can't help getting a bit frustrated with you. He cares so deeply for you, and he never wants to cause you unnecessary pain.

"Yeah, I understand." You reply, tears falling freely from your reddening eyes. You're overcome with an intense wave of emotions. Sadness, shame, guilt, anger. It's all flooding your head, weighing you down. It's all too much, and your anxiety is getting the best of you again. Your knees give out underneath you, and you fall to the ground, your hands slipping out of Eddie's grasp. You land on your ass, the back of your head smacking against the rock. Blunt pain rattles through your skull, and you're already sensing a headache coming on. "Ow." You state simply, rubbing where you hit your head. You don't really care about a potential concussion at this point. You're too busy falling apart.

"Y/N, please, tell me what's wrong?" Eddie frantically kneels next to you again, unable to hold back his own tears. "Just talk to me. Whatever it is, I'm here. Okay?" He pulls you into his lap, holding you tightly.

You try to bite back your sobs, finding difficulty in forming words. You know Eddie wants to help you, and you shouldn't shut down on him. "I-I'm just being stupid, Eds. I just feel too many things right now." Your breath shudders as you speak, struggling to calm yourself down.

"Like what, princess? Tell me. You'll feel better if you do." He insists. You look into his eyes, finding a welcome warmth inside them. He smiles, stroking a finger along your face. "There you are. You're okay, sweetheart. I'm right here. What's going on in there?" He taps your temple, making you wince again. "Shit, sorry. Forgot you hit your head." He chuckles apologetically.

"It's okay, Eddie. But there's too much going on in here, it's so overwhelming." Nausea slowly washes over you, making your head spin. You quell your queasiness, focusing on Eddie's arms wrapping you up safely.

"I know, angel. Just take it slow, one feeling at a time, hm?" He says sweetly, doing everything he can to relax your swelling nerves. It doesn't help that talking about your darkest emotions and thoughts sends your body into a spiral. But Eddie won't move on until you share them with him, no matter how ugly they may be.

You take a deep breath, bracing yourself for his reaction, whatever it is. "Well...um, I feel angry at myself for saying what I did. It was so awful, I don't even know how I came up with that. It scares me that I'm capable of even thinking something like that, and to say it so easily. And I feel like I don't deserve you, Eddie. Even before our fight, I've just been waiting for you to realize being with me is too much and leave me behind. I'm a complete mess, if you haven't noticed by now." You can't help laughing at yourself, though what you said isn't all that funny.

"You may be a mess, Y/N. But so am I. Hell, you've seen my room." He jokes, making you giggle. “Keep goin’ baby.” He encourages you.

You sniffle, wiping the stupid tears away as you continue. "And I'm tired of crying all the time, but that's all I seem to be able to do. I'm usually better at hiding it. Or at least waiting until Mom and Dustin go to sleep." Again, you admit something you don’t mean to, but it's too late to take it back. Eddie scoffs at your confession, having a hard time accepting just how much you've needed someone like him to come along.

"You don't mean to tell me you cry every night when you're alone, do you?" He becomes serious again, furrowing his eyebrows at you.

"Maybe. Most nights, at least." You mumble and shrug, rolling your eyes. "I dunno, I guess I'm used to it at this point. I feel so alone, all the time. I can be surrounded by people, even ones that make me happy, and I'm still all by myself inside. But I can't tell people that, even if it's true." You look down between your thighs, staring at the dirt and twigs beneath you.

"Do you still feel that way when I'm around?" Eddie asks, and your head shoots back up to meet his teary gaze. If he were a religious man, he'd pray to God that you give him the answer he's hoping for.

You cup both sides of his face, shaking your head purposefully. Your lip trembles as you form the words. "No, Eddie. You're the only person who makes that feeling go away. Since Friday, I've started feeling like a whole person again, instead of an empty shell. I'm only falling to pieces now because my dumb ass thinks I've fucked it all up. I still might have at this point." You explain, biting your lip as you’re still unclear on whether or not you’ve ruined everything.

"I promise, you haven’t." He replies, kissing you deeply. You hold each other close, moving your mouths together lovingly as salty tears roll down both your faces. You're entangled like this for what seems like hours, you swear the sun wasn't supposed to be setting just yet. You'd stay in this moment forever if you could, but your ass is getting numb. Eddie senses your discomfort, pulling away while wiping his eyes. "We should probably get going. Your Mom might worry about where you are."

"Yeah, I know. Oh, I left my bag at your place, with all my school stuff in it. But I can call home if we go back to get it, and we could grab some food before you take me home…if you want." You're coming up with any excuse to stay with him, you hate the idea of being without him for a single second.

"We can do that, baby. I can see you're not ready to say goodbye just yet. I'd be lying if I said I didn’t feel the same way. We will have to do that at some point tonight, though, Y/N." It pains Eddie to even think about letting you sleep alone ever again. But he knows becoming attached at the hip isn't healthy, and you both need time apart on occasion.

"I know we do, which sucks. But, clinging to each other will end badly, and I definitely don't want that happening any time soon." You smile, slowly standing up. Your legs get pins and needles, causing you to stumble. Eddie's ready to catch you, but you manage just fine on your own this time. He stands up beside you, taking your hand.

"C’mon, sweetheart." He leads you back to the van, and the two of you discuss where to eat. "How ‘bout Chinese?" He suggests.

"Nah, it always makes me sick." You say, twisting your face in disgust. "What about...burgers?"

"That sounds perfect, angel." He squeezes your hand, rubbing his thumb over yours. You reach the van as the sky turns a deep orange hue, signaling your day with him coming to a close. You dread laying in bed by yourself again, the nights are especially lonely for you.

You climb inside the vehicle, and Eddie offers you another cigarette. What's one more when you've already had about ten today? You put it between your lips, letting him light it for you as he gazes into your eyes. He's watching you closely, gauging how you'll be doing mentally by the time he has to take you home. "Thanks." You say as you inhale the sweet smoke once again, you'll never get over the rush you get inside your head from it.

"Anything for my sexy girl." Eddie smirks, lighting a cig for himself. He's so hot when he smokes, letting the gray whisps flow slowly from his lips or out of his nose. It's not necessarily a positive thing, but it really suits him. You’ve always thought most people who smoke look kind of...depressing. But something about the way some people, namely Eddie, do it makes them so very attractive. He catches you staring again, chuckling lowly. "What you lookin' at, angel?"

"Just admiring my handsome boyfriend, that's all." You wink at him, placing a hand on his knee.

"Hm. Thought so." He replies like the smartass he is, starting the van for the second to last time tonight. You ride along to the nearest burger joint, going into the drive-thru. Eddie asks what you want, relaying it to the speaker box before ordering for himself. He pulls up to the window, paying and taking the greasy paper bag from the cashier. He hands it to you to hold until you get back to the trailer, and it warms your lap as the two of you head back. You playfully feed Eddie the occasional French fry from the bag, munching on a few yourself during the drive.

He turns the van into Forest Hills, pulling up next to the trailer. You hop out into the cold evening air, clutching the bag tightly. Eddie grabs your drinks, following behind you inside. Wayne's truck is gone, he's already left for his shift at the plant. "I'm gonna call Mom real quick. She's probably already called here a few times." You say as you plop the bag onto the kitchen table, going over to the phone. There's a note from Wayne that reads:

Hey kiddos,Y/N's mother has called a couple times wondering where she is. I told her you're together, and that you’re safe. You'd better give her a ring when you see this, though, she seemed ready to call the cops.-Wayne

"Shit, hopefully Mom hasn't sicced Chief Powell on us." You groan, flashing Eddie the note. You quickly dial home, and your mother picks up on the first ring.

"Y/N? Is that you?" Mom asks, clearly frazzled with worry.

"Yeah, Mom. I'm fine, I'm back at the trailer with Eddie. We were just out doing errands and stuff, nothing dangerous."

"Oh, thank God! I've been worried sick about you, I almost called the Sheriff!" She lets out a sigh of relief, finally able to breathe again.

You can't help rolling your eyes, and Eddie flashes you a disapproving look at your childish antics. You narrow your eyes back at him, unamused at him judging you. "I figured as much. Look, we picked up some dinner, but I'll be back home soon, okay?"

"Alright, sugarpuff. Be safe. I love you." She coos on the other end.

"Love you too, Mom. Bye." You hang up the phone, looking at Eddie again. "What?" You're confused by his expression. You go back to the table, taking a seat before reaching into the paper bag.

"She's just worried about you, Y/N." Oh, great. A lecture from your boyfriend, that'll pair well with dinner. Eddie takes the other chair across from you, nudging your knee with his under the table.

"I know, she's always worried about me. It's fuckin’ suffocating sometimes." You grumble, putting his burger and fries in front of him.

"Can you really blame her? She may be a bit overbearing, but she's just following her instincts. I know you think you're hiding your feelings from people to spare them, but she sees it. Dustin does too." He reaches for your hand, and you begrudgingly give it to him.

"Is that so? Well, if I'm so goddamn obvious, why don't they say anything?" You can't help getting annoyed at his words, though you know he's right.

He scoffs, smiling wryly. "Only you would find a way to make that an insult. ButI don't mean it like that. So, can you please chill the fuck out?" He gazes at you meaningfully, wanting you to hear him out. You nod, resisting the urge to roll your eyes again. "They don't say anything because they can tell you don't wanna talk about it. You know, due to how...aggressively independent you are." He can't help smiling at his choice of words.

"I recall you using the term 'stubborn' before." You comment, taking a bite out of your squished burger.

"Yes, and that was also a completely correct observation, Y/N. But my main point is that your family sees you struggling, but they know they can't help you unless you ask for it." He unwraps his own burger, waiting for you to respond. You contemplate what he's saying, you'd never considered that hiding yourself away might be affecting the people who love you.

"I never thought about it that way. I don't like being a burden on people, Eddie. They have their own shit going on. Why should they take on mine?" You rationalize.

He sighs, speaking while chewing. "It's not all or nothing, Y/N. Obviously, your problems are your responsibility first. But, there's nothing wrong with looking to others for support. You help your family with their issues, don't you? You've definitely helped me with mine." He swallows, eyes flicking to yours before taking another bite.

"Well, yeah, I do. It'd be pretty shitty if I didn't." It's a no-brainer to you to help those you care about, but it never clicked for you that it's not unreasonable to expect it in return.

"You're right. It would be. And I don't mean to be harsh, sweetheart. But it's also kinda shitty to shut yourself off from the people who love you." He's right, it is a bit hurtful to hear. But it's honest.

You groan, admitting defeat. "Ugh! Alright, I'll try to be more open with them. God, must you always be right?" You say half-jokingly.

"Yep. It's my job." Eddie laughs, tangling his leg with yours. He rubs his foot against your ankle, his simple touch giving you goosebumps. The two of you finish your dinner, keeping up light conversation. As the food disappears, you're becoming more aware of just how little time you have left with him for the day. It shouldn't feel like such a big deal, and you don't want to be the 'crazy, clingy girlfriend'. You also don't want the day to end, you don't want to say goodbye. "Y/N, relax. I can already tell what you're thinking in that head of yours."

"I swear you just love calling me out, Munson." You roll your eyes, giggling at how intuitive he is. It makes your heart feel warm and fuzzy, because he pays such clear attention to your feelings. He's the first guy that's ever done that for you.

"Ouch, last name basis again, huh? Have it your way, Henderson." He chuckles, Eddie loves to tease like no other. You gather the empty wrappers and fry cartons, tossing them into the trash.

"I'm gonna grab my bag, Eds." You walk down the hall to his bedroom, taking a long look at the bed before retrieving your things. The blanket is all bunched up, evidence of the two of you sleeping here the previous night. You're tempted to lay down and refuse to get up, but you know it would be no use. Eddie's much stronger than you, he'd just pluck you off the mattress and carry you in his arms to the van. You sigh, reliving how safe you felt in his arms last night before shutting the door.

"You ready, sweetheart?" He asks, standing by the front door now. You walk up to him, putting your arms around his neck. His hands instinctively go to your waist, caressing your sides with his fingers.

"No, but I suppose I have to be, huh?" You ask, gazing up at him. He just nods, kissing your lips tenderly. You happily return it, moving your mouth against his in a languid rhythm. There's not an overwhelming tone of lust between you this time though, it's more like a bittersweet chorus floating around inside your heads. It's silly, really. You'll see each other again in the morning. But budding romance is one hell of a drug. A highly addictive and volatile one, at that. It's always tempting to dive off the deep end for the sake of another taste, but those who choose that route usually fizzle out in a couple of months. And you certainly don't want that, much as it pains you to let go for a few hours.

Eddie's the one to pull away, trying his best to show restraint and not absolutely rail you again on the kitchen table. "C'mon, baby. We gotta get you home." He says, his lips still unbearably close to yours. You lean forward to kiss him again, but he puts his hand up to stop you. "Nice try, but it's time to go." You back off, blushing at your failure. He smirks, taking your hand as he opens the door.

The ride home goes smoothly, Eddie pulls out all the stops to keep you giggling and happy as he drives. Before you know it, he's pulling up to your house. You grab your backpack from behind your seat, turning to Eddie. "You wanna walk me to the door, darling?" You ask mischievously, but he picks up what you're trying to do. He puts a hand on your knee, shaking his head.

"No, sweetheart. Only because I know you'll pull me down the hall and into your room, and I won't be able to resist. So, I'm resisting now." He holds strong, despite his heart and his cock begging him to do otherwise. You sigh at his words, frowning. "Don't pout, babydoll. I'll be back in the morning to bring you to class. And we can hang out afterwards. We'll do whatever you want. So, take our time apart to think about what you'd like that to be, 'kay?" Eddie cups your cheek, kissing your bruise, and then your lips. "Goodnight, sweetheart. I'll see you tomorrow." He looks in your eyes, nodding to assure you that you'll be alright without him tonight.

You nod as well, holding back tears. You know it'll be okay, even if your tear ducts say otherwise. "Goodnight, Eds. I'll be dreaming of you until I see you in the morning." You peck his lips again, before leaving the van. You shut the door, waving to him. He waves back, slowly pulling out of the driveway. You stay outside in the chilly air until he's disappeared from your view. You hear the front door open behind you, and your mother comes outside.

"Sugarpuff! Thank God you're home! We've been worried about you!" She calls to you, and you turn around to follow her inside. You kick off your shoes in the entryway, and prepare for the interrogation you're about to be subjected to. "How'd school go today? Did you have fun with Eddie?" She asks, not yet taking notice of your bruise. You were hoping to slip past her with it until you could cover it with makeup tomorrow. But Dustin walks from the kitchen and spots it.

"What happened to your face?" He asks, and your heart stops. 

Mom leans to the side to see what he's talking about. She gasps, eyes going wide. "Oh my God! Is that a bruise? How'd you get that? Did Eddie hurt you?" She asks, brows furrowing in anger.

"If you'd let me get a word in, school was fine. I had a great time with Eddie, and the bruise was an accident. We were hanging out at Skull Rock and I slipped and hit my cheek. But I'm fine, thanks for asking." You don't mean to sound so defensive, but you're not really in the mood for the third degree.

"Y/N, you know you can tell me anything, right? I'm your mother, and I'm here to support you." She looks so worried, though that's always been her default. You promised Eddie you'd be more open with her, and with Dustin. It’s definitely proving to be a challenge, though.

"I know, Mom. I know I've been hiding, a-and bottled up and everything. I haven't meant to be that way. I promise, if I need your help I'll ask, okay? But I’m fine. It was just an accident. Eddie would never hurt me, he was actually really concerned about the bruise." You insist, just wanting to go to bed already.

"Wait, Skull Rock? Don't people go there to一" Dustin says before Mom cuts him off.

"Dusty! Shut it, and mind your own business! Off to bed, you've got school tomorrow." She scolds, and he skulks off to his room. She turns to you again, pulling you in for a hug. "I'm just glad you're doing better, sugarpuff. Eddie seems like a really good guy for you. I'll quit prying so much and let you get some rest. You look so tired."

"Thanks, Mom. I love you. And I'll try to be more open with you about how I'm doing, okay? I'm sorry for closing myself off for so long. That wasn't right of me." She gasps when you squeeze her tightly, you've never been one to hug her like this before. She knows you really mean it, almost tearing up.

"It's okay, Y/N. You've always been fiercely independent, which I've always admired in you. But I'm here when you need me, no matter what." The two of you pull apart finally, and you head to your room for the night. 

You find that Mom has done your laundry again, despite how often you insist you'll do it yourself. All the clothing has been put away already, except for one item, folded neatly on your bed. It's the Hellfire shirt Eddie gave you, and you instantly change into it to sleep in. You open your bag to take out anything not school related, when you find something peculiar. An unopened pack of Eddie's cigarettes, and his lighter. You hold them in your hands, noticing a note written in black marker on the box:

For when you miss me, sweetheart.-E

Eddie has surprisingly neat handwriting, and he’s even drawn a little heart on the box. You smile like an idiot, he knew you'd want nothing more than to smell his cigarettes when he's not around. You have no idea when he slipped them in your bag. It must have been last night, or on the way home when you weren't looking. Either way, you can't help loving him even more for the present. You take the gifts to your bedroom window, opening it wide to allow the smoke to escape. You light up one last time for the evening, imagining Eddie by your side as you let clouds of white flow freely into the night sky.

To be continued...

[anna-scribbles]

hey anna! the wait for kwami’s choice part 2 truly is abysmal and it’s so hard to navigate through the tag with all the leaks about, do you have any fic recs to tide us over until gloob puts us out of our misery?

not only do I have fic recs, I also have way too much to do rn and therefore will spend an inordinate amount of time crafting a detailed rec list for you 😘 (we can also just consider this my 2022 ao3 wrapped lol)

goes without saying perhaps, but ANYTHING by @peachcitt is gold and also uniquely devastating, some of my particular favorites being:

metamorphosis - 97k, enemies, sleepovers, you get it. i'm normal

those benevolent stars - 23k, ladrien thief/prince/soulmates au. what more do I even need to say

chat noir's white french man hit list for feminist purposes - 7k, hilarious and devastating, this fic is a child to me

double dare - 32k, ladrien, absolutely everything. cemented my friendship w/ peach bc I had to scream at her everyday abt it

I thought the plane was going down - 11k, attuned to my tastes specifically, adrinette having a History while on airplanes

@carpisuns also puts out banger after banger like it's her dayjob, specializing in understanding the ridiculous nature of the lovesquare to such a degree and also being the funniest person alive. some of my faves from her are:

tell me something I don't know - 120k, the marichat fic EVER, mar's dissertation on lovesquare and guess what she's right

pink - 14k wip, adrien loves marinette, SOFT

two idiots and a hamster (collab with @botherkupo) - 24k, adrinette roommates, makes me cry laugh

@picayunearts is a goddess on earth. she bends word and image flawlessly to her will. recently she has enraptured me with

final girl - 41k, marichat, au where marinette succeeds in giving up her miraculous to alya in origins. INCREDIBLE marinette character study

@rosekasa invented ladynoir and i'm not afraid to say it. check out everything on her ao3 but just note the following

when things were good - 15k wip, breakup fic/post hawkmoth takedown, has been ruining me in a SPECIAL way

new marinette 12k, post-guardianship memory loss marinette, a classic

like poles of a magnet - 12k, enemies au, hurts my feelings

ya'aburnee - 13k, ladynoir, HURTS ME VERY MUCH. I'VE NOT RECOVERED

@buggachat's fics always feel like i'm attending a course on adrien and marinette's true characterizations explained to me by someone with a PhD in lovesquare and I walk away enlightened. she has an incredible gift for storytelling and just Getting It. anyway read

maintaining a professional distance - 43k, ladynoir hotel room shenanigans, god-tier characterization

when you're near 10k, ladynoir dating but adrinette have never met, a classic

@sha-nwa should honestly quit her career and write lovesquare fanfiction for me full time. proof:

the way I loved you - 68k, marichat break up fic, will be cemented into my mind forever

photograph - 1k, sweet adrinette, abby loves making me cry

things WOULD be amiss if I did not mention @officialratprince (carolinaa on ao3) bc their fics derailed my homework schedule on several occasions last semester, though I'll be honest that their fics are not for the faint of heart or those who wish adrien agreste to have a good time. my faves are

I will take it / it can't go wrong series - 3 fics at 16k, 25k, and 39k, adrien's journey through experiencing child abuse and his friends being there for him, culminating in gabriel's court trial

home sick - 14k wip, adrien gets pneumonia and Everything Is Really Bad

other various fics I love for various reasons:

how hawkmoth got his groove back series by @agrestenoir - 2 fics at 3k and 1k, one of my favorite crack fics i read last year. had me crying laughing

1 step forward, 3 steps back by agnes writes - 10k, breaks my heart every time I read it. also makes me legitimately angry at adrien while still keeping him in character which is a feat in and of itself

the last day on earth by reiaji - 10k, chat blanc keeps happening as marinette gets older, I am incapable of not recommending this fic

okay now go forth and don't do your work<3

[asktheangeleetwins]

Welcome to the Angelee Twins ask blog! Read below for rules before you continue!

Askable characters (Links to references in the names):

Rudy Angelee: The scout in Red. Obsessed with sex. He loves spicy and savoury food and is VERY skilled with any type of gun. He's considered the strongest of the twins. Can be considered loud and a bit overbearing.

Cosmo Angelee: The scout in blue and the younger twin. Obsessed with food - specifically any type of sweets. He's a lot colder than his brother and more reserved when it comes to potential partners. Considered the smartest of the twins and is more skilled and graceful - typically uses one or two katanas.

Hudson Clarke: A human sniper who happens to be a mentor, boss, and friend to the twins. He works for a special part of the government, and he is the main one in charge of keeping the twins in check and trying to make sure they stay out of trouble along with giving them any missions they may have.

First of all, some disclaimers!

☆This blog is run by @glitteringpeachy !

☆This blog is 16!+ Any blogs without an age or under 16 will be blocked. I will not make this blog fully NSFW, but there will be lots of swearing, discussions of sex, etc. The admin is a 20 Y/O.

☆When I'm talking as the admin on a post, I will talk in double brackets in pink, ((like this.))

☆All answers to asks will be rendered in SFM! Because of that, the admin may be slow to get to your ask.

☆The angel twins are heavily inspired by Panty and Stocking, so you may notice some parallels. The lore and backstory is original, though!

☆The twins can be very rude! Don't take what they say as my own opinions or thoughts. Love you all!

Now some Rules!

☆Suggestive asks are fine, but not 100% NSFW asks. This blog is 16+ not 18+

☆No magic anons! As in, do not try to force the twins (or any character) to do anything, or try to derail blog. If I ever allow magic anon's in the future, it'll PROBABLY be specifically for story purposes.

☆No crossovers! I don't mind role-playing, but I will not include your OC in the story or anyone else's OCs. This ask blog is for canon events only. (Unless I decide to do a non-canon event for fun, but that won't be for OCs.)

☆You don't have to ask JUST the twins, I don't mind people asking other characters as they show up! (Like Hudson for example.) This blog is more than just the twins after all.

☆ No spamming a single question, though you can ask as many questions as you want!

☆Any transphobic/homophobic/racist/proship asks/blogs will he blocked on sight.

☆Speaking of proship, do NOT make any weird or incestuous scenarios or asks with the twins- that's gross.

Regarding fanart...

☆If you make fanart, tag this blog or @glitteringpeachy , and maybe use the #angelee twins tag or the #devine detors tag!

☆I don't mind any type of fanart, as long as it isn't proshippy, obviously. But if you draw NSFW, I request you don't post it publicly with the two tags I just mentioned! Send it to me privately, (I'd still love to see it!) and keep it to your private blogs.

☆Note, PLEASE DO NOT DRAW ME NSFW FANART IF YOU'RE UNDER THE AGE OF 18!!! And I request you message me beforehand if you plan on making NSFW, just so I'm prepared for it. I don't want an NSFW art jumpscare💀

And that's all for now! I will add more to this blog if I feel the need to. Have fun sending asks- I can't wait to get to them!

[drchenquill]

OC questionnaire

Thank you @paeliae-occasionally , @inseasofgreen and @the-golden-comet!

My questions:

How long has it been since you last travelled?

Where is your favourite place?

If the inciting event never happened, what would you be doing?

If you could have any pet in the world, what would you choose?

What does your typical everyday outfit look like?

Do you believe in soulmates?

Do you speak more than one language?

What is your favorite thing to eat?

What drives you to succeed?

My mind has been taken over by Daisy, so she'll answer.

• How long has it been since you last travelled?

Daisy: "What do you mean by "traveled"? I've never been out of the country, but I've traveled from one pack to another, if that counts. But it wasn't really traveling, it was running away."

• Where is your favourite place?

Daisy: "I have two favorite places! One is Sheila's home. It's warm and cozy and always has a nice atmosphere. Then there is Izrail's hut…" her cheeks slowly turned rosy as she whispered: "I like it there because he is there."

• If the inciting event never happened, what would you be doing?

Daisy: "Oh… um… I… I would have been forced to be marked by my former Alpha and probably forced to have his children."

• If you could have any pet in the world, what would you choose?

Daisy: "A bunny! They are so cute and fluffy, but I think they could smell that I am a wolf and would probably be afraid of me…"

• What does your typical everyday outfit look like?

Daisy: "I don't have any clothes of my own at the moment, because I switched packs without packing anything. I am borrowing Sheila's clothes, well, she gave them to me. Oh! Sorry, I'm derailing. Yes, my outfit is mostly a light summer dress that reaches my knees. No shoes, I want to feel the grass under my feet".

• Do you believe in soulmates?

Daisy: "Very much, yes. I used to think I wasn't allowed to have one because I had angered the moon goddess, but I was wrong and now I've met him and I've never been more excited …. and scared."

• Do you speak more than one language?

Daisy: "No, sadly no. I don't even know how many languages there are." [she lived very secluded for all her life]

• What is your favorite thing to eat?

Daisy: "Oh! The berries Izrail picked for me once. I think I liked the gesture so much that they became my favorite thing to eat, because they remind me what a sweet man he actually is, and not the murderous monster everyone makes him out to be."

• What drives you to succeed?

Daisy: "The freedom I've known since I ran away. I'm not going to let anyone take that away from me again."

~~~~

Tagging with no pressure: @oliolioxenfreewrites , @willtheweaver , @leahnardo-da-veggie , @theink-stainedfolk and open tag!

Your questions are:

Would you kill for mercy?

Are you sarcastic?

Would you punch someone for money (any amount)?

[chaifootsteps]

So if we're sharing fandom horror stories, I'll throw one in too. Feel free to delete this if you don't want to derail into fandom horror show-and-tell.

In one fandom I'm in, there's a popular straight ship and wlw ship, both of which involve the same female character. Cue this one dude who has become rather infamous within the fandom, and is so utterly obsessed with the straight one that he frequently comments on the people who've worked on its posts desperately begging for it to be canon (never mind that the male character is already canonically in a relationship), while actively despising anything portraying the female character as being fem attracted in some way. He feels the need to constantly "correct" people about said character "not being a lesbian" on random ship art on his main, has suicide baited over it, and has harassed people on his multitude of alts (which he claims aren't him, but they all type in the same broken English he does). On Insta he has even gone as far as buying out bot accounts to spam homophobic comments on people's posts involving it. I don't know if he's still doing that one, but last I checked it didn't take long for me to find a few examples.

His behavior towards people who make content around the straight ship he oh-so-adores isn't a whole lot better either. He block evades them too, constantly re-posts their art after being told off multiple times, inserts his breeding fetish into sfw content, and has tagged people who make content involving it and the official account in porn. This is something with fairly family friendly source material by the way, and there was nothing suggesting some of the other users in question would be interested in seeing such content.

It's been nearly three fucking years at this point, and this weirdo is still at it. I don't know how he even thinks he's accomplishing anything with this behavior, since all it does is make me want to make content of the wlw ship out of spite while associating the straight one with his creepy ass. I know multiple people who've lost interest in making content involving the straight ship because of him, so I'm not alone on this. -🕊️

I don't even know what fandom this is about or which wlw ship but I also ship it out of spite.

[not-poignant]

What made you decide to host original fiction on AO3? You're the first (favorite) author doing serial original fic online that I think of these days, though I've not dabbled since independent domains were the most common strategy. I'm hoping to make progress on a project of my own in the soon, but am having trouble finding sites without fairly restrictive content policies--are there/were there other contenders for hosting Fae Tales that would have let you go so dark, or is it AO3 or bust?

Hi anon!

I think from your tone, you're starting off with the assumption that I was trying to be a professional writer and then chose AO3, and that's not the path I took at all!! No one in their right mind generally chooses AO3 if they want to make a profit off of their original writing for a lot of reasons, and a lot of fanfiction authors leave AO3 so they can make a profit off their original writing (and some do both - write fanfic under one name, and original fiction under a completely different name. My path isn't even the mainstream fanfic writer's way of breaking into original fiction, lol).

So my journey was basically that:

I was writing fanfiction on AO3 that became quite popular in its small fandom, and I put two OCs (Original Characters) into that story that got especially popular and started getting fanart during the fanfic. A few people at the time said 'I ship these two' and I was like 'eh I don't want to write it.' And then in typical fandom fashion eventually I was like 'okay I'll just give it a try.'

I wrote several PWP hatefucking chapters mostly to see if they even really worked as a couple (they did!) - since they weren't a couple in the fanfic, they were mortal enemies, lol - and these chapters popped off among a very small number of people and I thought 'you know what, these characters deserve an actual story, because I don't want their tale to have a tragic ending' (which it would have done).

So I wrote more of the story, and eventually I got a message from a reader saying 'hey can you open a Patreon account so we can support your original writing, because it doesn't feel fair that we're getting all of this for free.'

So I opened a Patreon account.

And then about 3 years later I thought 'actually...I think I can turn this into a proper job.' And I...tried lol. It's not a very 'proper job' by the standards of people who started original writing purely for income, but it is quite a proper job for me, lol. I still write fanfiction because I love it.

I never chose AO3 as a place to build a career exactly, I just put original fiction there because that's where the readers were who already liked the original characters, and it didn't make sense to put it anywhere else. I also never expected at the time to make a formal leap into original fiction, I was actually planning another fanfic and then got completely derailed because we were all enjoying Fae Tales so much.

I stay there because I can post any fictional content I like pretty much - no matter how taboo - without fear of reprisal from the site or fear of having my account banned etc. for content. I stay because the warning and tagging system is the most sophisticated in the world. I stay because the search system is also the most sophisticated in the world. I stay because I love the spirit of fandom, and the people who find my original fics there already understand reading serials and WIPs and ongoing stories. I stay because I really enjoy AO3 comment culture, which is uniquely different to anything else anywhere on the internet, but especially other free serial sites like Wattpad, Royal Road, Inkitt and more. I stay because having to invite people to come to my Tumblr to see my posts and excerpts and sometimes find out about Patreon is a feature and not a bug, because it means the people who eventually find their way to my Patreon probably want to be there more than the average reader who never needs to leave AO3.

I stay there because Wattpad needs incredibly short chapters and I like longer chapter lengths (and long serials). I stay there because the comment culture of Royal Road is a lot of 'um, actually' folks alongside some decent folks, and you really have to love constant constructive (and not so constructive) criticism even on your most viral stories, and I am baby. I stay on AO3 because my friends are there, and so are many other folks who I enjoy the thoughts and company of.

To my knowledge, the only other place that allows really taboo content officially (i.e. not 'it's against the rules but everyone does it') is probably Ream, which is a subscription site like Patreon. And they're very recent. I will be setting up a mirrored version of my Patreon account there for all the folks who can't access Patreon due to like...credit card / bank reasons.

If you want to write a super dark, taboo serial, there aren't many free serial sites in the world where that's truly okay. I'm going to take some risks on Wattpad soon with the Fae Tales canon and we'll see how we go, lmao. AO3 is particularly unique because it started for many of us fanfiction writers who were getting banned and censored on other fanfiction and fandom platforms (like Livejournal Strikethrough, which was a huge historical event in fandom around censorship), so it literally - in many ways - was invented to protect and give space to the people who are writing adult or taboo fanfiction (and then later also original fiction). It is designed to be a safe haven for those of us who understand that fiction is just fiction when it comes to sexual fantasy content.

In the past year I have considered other dedicated serial sites for my content and frankly I don't believe any of them are 'safe' for me re: the nature of my writing (I don't feel my writing is as dark as some, but it certainly has 'rape as titillation' quite a bit, and pretty broad scale dubcon). Royal Road doesn't suit my genre/s, Inkitt is possible, but I'm not sure if my work will do well there, Wattpad is a risk but is huge and I'm not mad if my account gets banned there, Tapas allows some taboo, but is very clear that it wants no serials intended for the purpose of sexual gratification and requires 500-1500 chapters maximum, which is a bit of a downer for someone like me who has 3-10,000 word chapters, lol.

If you want to be a professional writer of adult sexual/taboo content who makes money off your writing, I wouldn't recommend hosting your works on AO3, I'd recommend publishing novels and when you have enough of a backlist, potentially offering chapters of future novels as early access on Ream (Patreon will actually also ban accounts with taboo content if you're hosting it on Patreon - and while most of us are safe at the moment, they get stricter over time).

AO3 is, imho, a great place for original authors who already love writing fanfiction or reading fanfiction, and already love fandom, and want to participate in the culture with original stories. Readers on AO3 are very savvy, clued-in people who are overall likely to be suspicious rather than welcoming of original fiction on AO3 in general (many refuse to read it outright), and who also can tell when a newcomer author is just there to try and make a profit off them. But they are also some of the most ride or die, wonderful, best readers in the world once they love your work. (I know this from experience as a reader too, lol, I am ride or die for a few authors there myself).

That doesn't mean it can't be done, it just means there's a steep learning curve re: fandom etiquette (thoroughly worth it, do recommend it, it just will take some time - months, not weeks - to feel it out). AO3 also strongly prefers/requires all original fiction there be posted 'in the spirit of fandom' - which has broad interpretations, but it does mean an effort needs to be made to at least understand and enjoy fandom.

But yeah if you're purely professional career focused, AO3 is not a first-line strategy imho. That's why...there's not many people doing it this way - even viral fanfiction authors don't do it this way, anon, when they decide to writing original fiction based off their fanfiction success. Use Smashwords, Ream, your own host site for direct sales etc. there are erotica and dark fantasy authors who are making WAY more money than I am using paths like this.

I love my path, I love it, and I do believe more people could use it and make it work, but I'll be honest with you - I know I could be making more money if I chose different paths, I'm on this path because it's fun.

[mynotsohealthyobsession]

Disembodied parte 6/8

Warning: Mention of death // Angst // Fluff

Pairings: Adrian Raines X MC // Nik Ryder X MC

Words: 1.548

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5

As always, tags in the reblog!

Amy sighed, her eyes were closed as she tightly gripped the towel that was around her body. "Come on, Amy… You can do this." She said to herself, without lifting her sight to the mirror in front of her, taking deep breaths. Slowly, she forced her eyes open. Alex's face watched the water dripping from her silver hair roll down her chest and arms after her shower. Putting in extra effort, she wrapped the hair with a dry towel and grabbed her toothbrush, distractedly brushing her teeth. Her mind wandered back to her conversation with Adrian yesterday, remembering the way he had held her, making her feel like everything would be okay. 

She washed out the toothpaste and walked back to the bedroom. Since her apartment was destroyed, Adrian had given her the second guest penthouse while Alex used the first one. After changing into some new casual clothes, to be honest she felt too weird to use her own, Amy curled up on the couch, turning the TV on. She had leaned her head against a pillow when a knock on the door called her attention. 

"Coming!" She rushed to it, pulling it open. Adrian, standing on the other side, grinned at her. "Hi." She said a bit awkwardly, smiling back. Normally, she would kiss him on the lips but she knew he wouldn't feel comfortable with it. And neither was she until the situation was fixed. 

"Hi, Amy." He gently kissed her cheek. It was a tiny peck but enough to make her feel better. "How are you feeling?"

"I don't know… Nervous? Scared as hell and excited that, maybe, I'll be back in my body." She moved away from the doorframe so he could come inside. 

"Understandably."

"And how are you?" 

"Same as you I suppose." He sighed. "I just got you back after Gaius' attack and the thought of something going wrong with this terrifies me." 

"Adrian…"

"But that's not why I'm here." He plastered a little smile on his face. "Would you like to take a walk?"

"In the half-destroyed city? So romantic." She playfully said and he chuckled. 

"When I try to be romantic, I can assure you, you will notice." He winked a bit cocky and Amy grinned. "I just thought you might want to clear your head for a while."

"Actually… I would love it." She grabbed a jacket, and cellphone and walked back to him, slightly smiling. It was a strange situation, to say the least, but having his support like this, even when he wasn’t a fan of the upcoming plan, meant the world to her. "Where are you taking me?" 

"You shall soon see." Amy closed the door and walked to the elevator, where Adrian was waiting for her, holding open the door.

“Are you in a mysterious mood, Mr. Raines?”  

“More in the mood to surprise you.”

“I like that.” The elevator made the ride smooth and fast, arriving at the parking garage where his car waited for them.

***

The knock at the door derailed Alex's train of thought while she indulged herself in one of the wine bottles of the penthouse. She stood from the couch, carrying her glass, and opened the door standing face to face with Nik. She simply sighed.

"What are you doing here?"

"I just wanted to check on you." He narrowly responded, looking around with his sharp eyes, searching for some inexistent threat. 

"Well, as you can see, everything is fine." She walked back to the inside of the apartment  "Except for the whole swapping my body with a vampire thing, that is."

"Rook…" She went to the wine cellar, taking another glass and a bottle. 

"Have a drink, Nik." He kicked the door closed, went inside, and sat beside her, looking at the empty bottles on the table. 

"Jeez Alex, are you trying to drink this whole building?"  

"Vampire metabolism, Ryder." She easily opened the new bottle with her bare hand. "I don't even think I can get drunk."

"Are you trying to?" He took a long sip of his glass. It was too sweet for his taste but clearly expensive which made it worth drinking. 

"I mean… maybe?" She sighed heavily. "Too much has happened lately." 

"And there is still the potion." He added with a nod.

"Yeah…" 

"It's going to work. " He said, determined, cutting the silence.

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because Ivy found it. And the bloodsucker has his own reason to make it work. That's good enough for me."

"Really? You, Nik 'I work alone' Ryder, are okay with someone else doing the potion?" Nik noticed the hurtful tone in the way she said his name.

"Raines showed me his lab today. I've been there until now." 

"That explain it."

"A dumb move if you ask me. I could totally alter it." He emptied his next glass in one go. "He left when the sun went down, leaving me there with his scientists." 

"He probably thinks you have a motive to make it right. Just like him with Amy." Alex said with a shrug. 

"He's not wrong." Alex didn't answer, letting out a small scoff before covering her mouth with the glass. 

***

"Adrian…It's beautiful!" She turned around, smiling to herself as the thousands of lights sparkled around them. He took her to a gorgeous park filled with twinkling lights around, making the beauty of the place look magical.

"I knew you would like it." He said, taking her hand and walking to another part of the park.

"Why aren't there more people around?" She asked with curiosity.

"Because I rented it for the night."

"Of course you did, Mr. Moneybags." 

He chuckled. After wandering around for a while, he carefully squeezed her hand, turning her to him. "Amy… Before you take the potion, I need to tell you–" She interrupted him gently, putting her fingers over her lips.

"No. I don't want to hear it right now. Not until I return to my body." She moved her hand away. "Whatever it is, I want to hear it as my full self." 

"I understand and it can wait for now. But…" Adrian sadly smiled at her. "You are yourself, Amy. Your physical appearance doesn't make you who you are." She self-consciously looked away but his fingers gently moved her chin to return her gaze at him. "I don't see Alex's body. Every time you talk, every word, the way you move, the way you walk. I see you, Amy. That's what makes you, you."

"And if the potion doesn't work…?"

"It would take some time to adjust, of course, but in the end, nothing would change."

"How can you be so sure?" 

"Because it's still you, Amy," Adrian said confidently, leaving a kiss on her cheek. "And what I feel for you, goes beyond your appearance."

"Adrian, I–" Before she could add anything else, their phones dinged. Amy read the message and looked at him, fear and excitement swirling in her eyes. "The potion is ready."

***

Nik observed her for a long moment, noticing the way she held her glass, distractedly swirling it with the tips of her fingers, like he had seen her doing so many times before. The way she opened her lips with a little sigh after a sip of wine was especially indentical. He finally saw Alex under Amy's skin. 

"What?" She asked, lifting her eyebrows. 

"You really think that?" He put his glass down, fixing his intense gaze on her. "You really think I don't give a crap about you?" 

"I don't know what to think anymore Nik." She stood, leaving the glass on the wood table, and slowly started to pace around. "First you told me how devastated you would be if something happened to me and then just walked away from me, like how I feel doesn't matter.." She leaned beside the window, looking out. "Like I don't matter to you." Her stare returned to his. Her eyes, even if they were Amy's, were filled with Alex's sadness. 

"What I said it's true, you know. It would just about to kill me if something bad happened to you." He also stood, taking a few steps towards her. "When I saw you there, bleeding, I–" He cut himself abruptly, the memory of her lifeless body occupying his mind, making him lose his words.

"...You?" She said, watching him curiously and expecting. 

"...I thought I wanted to die with you." His voice had changed to a raspy tight whisper, overcome with feelings he wasn’t used to having. And to let others see. 

"Nik…" She got a little closer to him. 

"I mean it, Alex."

"Thank you for saying this to me." She gave him a soft squeeze to his hand. "It means a lot more than you can imagine”. Alex sighed, letting his hand go. "But right now I… I don't have the strength to have this conversation." She shook her head, afflicted. "Dying, being in Amy's body, the potion. It's too much." 

"I know, Rook." 

"We'll talk about this after the potion. If you still want to."

"Sounds good to me." Their phones dinged at the same time.. Nik took out his, quickly reading the text. "Which apparently will be sooner than we expect. The potion is ready."

✨️

[earl-grey-by-the-lake]

Random Glitch Trio Headcanons

(aka i'm in my idw sonic brainrot era and remembered i have a tumblr to dump stuff in)

Starline

• Really into long baths (the type with candles and rose petals everywhere)

• Would be obsessed with Lush bath bombs if they existed in Sonic's world

• Acts really pretentious about music, books, films, etc., only claiming to like highly obscure and experimental stuff (bonus points if it's technically complex). While he does genuinely like this stuff, he's also a fan of more 'popular' music like disney songs (or would be if they existed in Sonic's world), musicals and 80s synth.

• I could weirdly see him being into old detective novels/movies, e.g.- Poirot

• He doesn't like science fiction because it tends to be wildly inaccurate

• Spends hours daily doing his hair and makeup even if he knows he's about to get into a fight which will inevitably mess it up again (if he's going to get his hands dirty he might as well look good doing it)

• Had an emo phase in his undergrad years, refuses to talk about it

• Claims to strongly dislike cursing (it's vulgar and juvenile) but swears like a sailor when he's angry or drunk (I stole this one off the Bumblekast but come on)

• Occasionally gets drunk (he normally drinks wine because it's classy but switches to whiskey when he's in a bad mood) and makes extremely unhinged vlogs ranting about stuff, mainly Eggman (e.g.- why doesn't he notice me after everything I've done for him, why does he love his robots more than me, what does Metal Sonic have that I don't, etc...) This happened a lot during their divorce arc

• His ideal date would be a classic romantic candlelit dinner, bonus points if there is singing involved. However there is absolutely no one who could meet his impossible standards for a romantic partner except maybe Eggman and even then he's on thin ice

• Probably a good dancer

• Feels a sense of superiority over extremely 'chaotic' individuals (e.g.- Eggman, Orbot and Cubot, Rough and Tumble, his adopted children), hence why he tends to gravitate towards them. He has a habit of trying to correct and fix other people to show off how put together he is (spoiler alert: he is not put together whatsoever)

• Hopelessly addicted to caffeine

Surge

• Into shounen manga

• Has tried vaping before for the sole purpose of pissing off Starline

• Likes J-rock, metalcore and punk music

• Not really into movies or books because they're long and boring. Her attention span is like 5 minutes max, hence why she prefers comics and manga

• If she was forced to watch a movie, she'd go for a really over the top silly horror movie. she's easily scared by psychological horror/anything with a lot of jumpscares though (not that she would admit it in a million years)

• Likes spicy food and sushi

• Has shoplifted before and will do it again

• Commits arson on a regular basis, Kit frequently depletes his water reservoir trying to put out the fires before Starline finds out

• Would shop at Hot Topic

• Her ideal date would be something super energetic like paintball or laser tag. She would then proceed to get excessively competitive (read: violent) and scare off any potential suitors.

• Starline once took her and Kit to a Disneyland equivalent for 'family bonding'. She used her super speed to cut the lines, made a rollercoaster go faster with her electric powers (because it was too slow- boring!) causing it to derail and almost murder the several children unfortunate enough to be on the ride with her, and set fire to at least one food stand. All three of them are now banned for life.

• She would probably hang out with the Babylon Rogues from time to time

• Unlike Starline and Kit she is a morning person, and is extra loud and obnoxious around them at this time of day just to be an asshole (Kit doesn't mind though)

Kit

• Likes reading technical manuals/long academic texts (aka Surge's worst nightmare)

• Really into horror, especially psychological and body horror (he would really like Junji Ito manga), but doesn't get to watch horror movies much because Surge doesn't like them

• He doesn't like music that much, if he had to listen to something he would prefer white noise because he finds the repetitive sound comforting

• Doesn't really have any food preferences but he likes coffee

• Secretly returns the stuff Surge shoplifts because he feels guilty

• Likes tinkering with bits of tech in his free time

• On the aforementioned 'family bonding' trip, Kit almost murdered the employees of a haunted house because they startled Surge (not that she would ever admit it), contributing to the lifelong ban

• Sometimes stays up all night reading or working on a project, he always looks tired during the day because he doesn't get much sleep

• His ideal date would be a non-existent one because he can't be away from Surge for more than 5 minutes without feeling anxious (also he's like 8). However he would probably stalk Surge on her date and try to sabotage it because he doesn't trust the other person to treat her right

• Is going to have an emo phase in a few years' time, following in the footsteps of his father (ik he's already emo but I mean like he'll start getting more into the music and fashion)

• Is actually capable of being pretty snarky but is too shy to say most of it out loud (he mocks Starline relentlessly in his head though)

[grumpygreenwitch]

The Witches and Wizards Job 23-24-25

Advance warning, the wizard cuts a little bit loose here. Tagged for some fantasy violence.

I'm aware the links to the back chapters are borked up, but it's nearly midnight right now and I just finished uploading everything to the queue. I'll try to fix them between Thursday and Friday.

AO3 Link

Buy me a Ko-fi?

Remember: Tumblr has no algorithm. Reblogs give me life.

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Keep reading

TWENTY THREE

I think no one expected to get together that night and count nothing but wins. But no one was hurt and our knowledge of the situation had grown by leaps and bounds - at least, that was what Ford claimed.

"I'm not happy that you all have Dresden working on the side," he told the room, throwing me a quick look.

I put a hand up; I really didn't mind. I was still trying to digest the truth both Eliot and Hardison had offered me. I'd done my job, and I'd done it well, and with their help I'd done it so quick I was still trying to get used to the fact that both cases were done, had been done nearly as soon as they'd been picked up. But the technology Hardison had used just wasn't something I could ever, would ever, have permanent access to. On the other hand, my expertise, my knowledge, everything I knew about magic and the creatures of that world, was information to be found in no database, no internet search. It was maddening.

"But it's done, so we move on to the auction. Odds are both our targets, as well as the mark, are going to be there: the lady, the portrait and the man in black."

The last bit seemed to startle the night's guest, who'd been lounging sedately on a brand-new couch near mine while nursing a vodka neat. Ford had introduced him as the client. He'd introduced himself as Vanya Fedorov. His accent had introduced him as part of the Russian mafia. Mouse had lifted his head from the moment the man had walked into the loft, and he'd never once looked away. Between him and my dog, I was getting more than a little nervous.

"Nate, there's a problem with the auction," Hardison pointed out as he rejoined us around the coffee table with its sharpie'd circle and anti-tracking ward, as well as a few other newly added protections. He'd left his phone behind by the row of desks after sorting out the delivery of the selkie skins, and he gestured at me.

"Most of the people attending aren't human," I informed the room.

Fedorov's drink paused on the way to his mouth. "My uncle is a hard man," he said levelly. "But his first loyalty is to our business. He knows I am good for it. He would not betray me."

"I don't think he has," Sophie replied. "The bird-woman, the -"

"Alkonost," he supplied.

"She wasn't there to harm you. She was there to protect you."

I was still trying to wrap my head around the fact that this gorgeous woman had decided, on the fly, to bluff one of the most powerful creatures of Russian lore, and she'd stuck the landing. God but I could only hope Ford knew how lucky he was.

"We were immune thanks to Harry," Sophie pointed out, "but you weren't affected at all. She did come looking for you, but to keep you safe."

"Safe from what?" he demanded restlessly.

"The man in black?" Eliot suggested.

"He doesn't want Fedorov hurt." Ford said mildly. I was beginning to recognize that tone as a warning signal. "He very nearly derailed one plan already for you," he told the Russian.

"For me?"

"The museum!" Parker exclaimed in sudden realization.

Nate nodded, then looked at Fedorov. "You made plans to go visit the Sokolov collection. Made them in advance. I had a look at your electronic ledger. You did have plans - for the day after, the last day of the exhibition."

"I did," the Russian admitted readily.

"You changed those plans when someone told you we were there."

Fedorov grinned ruefully. "I thought to press my case and enjoy Sokolov's work. Two birds with one stone. It seemed efficient at the time."

Nate nodded thoughtfully. "See, I was wondering about that. Because our presence there wasn't really important enough to merit derailing anyone's plans. It was you. When he came up to the room, it was to make sure you were there and he had to cancel the plan. You weren't supposed to be there that day."

"But then he did come up, and saw Grandmother," Sophie pointed out. "And getting her was worth more than protecting you."

"Mm," Nate nodded. "It was a rush job; the sort of rush job that happens when someone first says 'go', then 'stop', then 'go' again, and tempers are getting frayed, the timeline is off, everything just this much out of whack…" He waved a hand at us all. "You know the sort."

I did know the sort; I couldn't help but be amused that, from the look on their faces, so did the rest of the Leverage team.

"Explains why the guy was still there fiddling with the system when I got there," Eliot muttered. "He was waiting to put the Witchwell back in place. That's why the nitrogen tank was attached, but still closed."

"How do you know all this?" Fedorov demanded.

"The cameras," Ford replied. "Our… consultant pointed out that it's only the presence of beings like the man in black that blows up technology, and Hardison has created a number of failsafes so we can tell when a screen is about to fail. Turns out you can track someone by their absence nearly as much as by their presence."

The Russian took all of this in slowly, carefully, and finally frowned minutely. "I don't think I care for the Blackbird's interest in me. Or my family. Or my business."

Ford said nothing, but I could see in his face that he was holding back. I risked a glance at the other deadly intelligence in the room. Sophie was looking at the mastermind very closely. She caught my eyes and shook her head tinily.

I said nothing. I had just noticed that, behind Sophie, Parker was frowning, staring at nothing. Apparently Ford was contagious.

"I think your uncle's loyalties are a matter between you and him. For what it's worth, I believe he honestly thinks meeting with these people will help you take over from your father."

"By binding the family to these creatures." Fedorov scoffed. "What do they know of the family business?"

I didn't need to see the look Ford shot me to recognize a cue when I heard one. I picked up the printed photographs next to me on the couch and started handing them out one by one. "The lovely lady in white? Fey. Specializes in erasing evidence. The man next to her in red? Also fey. Specializes in erasing memories." Another picture. "Fat toad-looking man? He's actually a toad. His people love toxic waste. If someone gets a contract with them, they'll never see another fine for dumping again. The gorgeous thing next to him might be the deadliest we've identified so far. She's from Bangkok. Jade Court. Vampire. Human trafficking. This one? I'm not sure, but gosh, things sure do seem to catch on fire whenever he's around, mostly out at sea. Mostly when they're well-insured."

Between Hardison and me, while the 3D printer churned away and I stuck mirror-masks to everything it was spitting out, we'd sifted through enough information to identify thirteen of the twenty four people who we knew were going to the auction. It had been risky, using Koschei's invite to create a resonance spell that would let me find where the other invites were, but God it had paid off so well. We'd done weeks, maybe months of footwork in one long afternoon and half an evening.

It was enough to impress Fedorov - and to worry him. "No. I will not deal with these creatures. They are no better than the Blackbird, and if he's involved then each of them is a trap."

"I'm not telling you this to impress you," I corrected him. "I'm telling you to warn you. They might wanna make it look like you have no choice but to agree with whatever they say. You need to be prepared."

Fedorov took the stack of printouts and stared sightlessly at them. He looked oddly familiar at that moment, as if a touch of deja vu had come at me out of nowhere; he looked like something out of antiquity, like one of the paintings I'd seen in Hardison's screens while he studied Sokolov's work. "Can they die?" he asked.

Ooops, nope, we were back in mafia mentality. "Depends what you shoot them with. And in some cases, where."

"Then I believe you and I should speak, wizard." He shook his head and gestured impatiently. "He just stole the damn portrait. Why is he turning around and selling it already?"

"Because after the auction he won't need it anymore. Or at least that's what he thought, until he met Parker and she stole his key, and all of those." He waved a hand idly at the table's worth of knick-knacks. "So between now and the end of the auction he has to get that key back. You," Nate told Fedorov, "are going to trade it for the portrait. Make sure to tell them that when you RSVP."

"You are sending me into a den of monsters alone, Ford," Fedorov gritted out. "If you want me dead have the decency of doing it yourself."

"Not alone, no. You're bringing Sophie with you. If Dresden can get the tracker off of the other invitation we have, we'll even send Eliot in with you. And we will all be nearby to provide support. We don't want another 'situation', Fedorov, no one wants that."

Fedorov eyed Eliot, who shrugged calmly. He eyed Sophie, who smiled at him. "No offense," he told Eliot, "but I will feel safer with her."

Eliot beamed at the man. "None taken."

I had to agree with both of them, honestly.

"What about Grandmother?"

"She'll be there," Ford assured him. It was the only part of the plan I didn't like, because Ford had no explanation, no reason as to why he believed Baba Yaga would show up at the auction when Koschei was sure to be there. Last I'd checked, and from all Bob had taught me, those two were not on speaking terms, and got along about as well as fire and gasoline.

Fedorov looked thoughtful. "Wizard."

Oh, I did not like where this was going. "Uh."

"Since you are taking jobs on the side, will you take one more?"

"Uh." I looked at Ford, but he said nothing. He was giving me a keen, level look. I liked that even less. "That depends on the job."

Fedorov grinned at me. "He has tried too many times to harm Grandmother. Perhaps to kill her outright. I don't know if this is possible, if he can do this thing. I know he's trying, and I do not like it. I will pay whatever you ask, wizard. If you're there and do your best to protect her."

I felt as if the silence in the room were crushing me. "You want me to protect Baba Yaga."

"You are what I have."

"This is Baba Yaga. Grandmother Winter. Close to a living god as it gets. Not to mention I've already met the Blackbird. He won both times, in case you weren't listening."

"Did he? You walked away and he did not follow. Twice. The way I see it, you won the only victory that matters."

I wanted to scream. To walk away. I would have laughed in Fedorov's face but the truth was, I was scared. He was asking me to stand between what I saw as an unstoppable force and an immovable object. However, and I hated that he was right, but he uh. He was right. I'd stood up to Koschei twice, and I'd walked away both times. Either the man sucked at killing people, and I knew that wasn't true, or I was doing something right. I just didn't know what.

I felt as trapped as Fedorov did, but I could also see his reasoning. Koschei was an asshole. An unparalleled one. No one disagreed on that. But Baba Yaga, even if she was mercurial, alien, inhuman, still cared about the land and the people in a way her pupil didn't. If there was a line on the sand, I knew which side I was on. "I'll do what I can," I couldn't make the words come out civil, but at least I could make them come out.

Fedorov nodded at me. "In that case," he grinned minutely, leaned forward and picked up one of the chicken bones and the little carved wooden cup from among the many knick-knacks on the table and dropped the one inside the other. The bone let out a little rattle. "Let me tell you a fairy tale about Koschei and Grandmother."

TWENTY FOUR

The leshy came back that night, and they brought friends once again.

I was dead asleep in spite of every thought and worry wrecking chaos in my mind. I was worried, and I was pretty sure I had a right to be. We were about to throw a bluff in the face of some of the deadliest, smartest monsters ever to come out of the Nevernever, Leverage also wanted to steal from them at the same time. There was just so much going on that I'd given up trying to keep track of it all, and resigned myself to doing my part of it and never figuring out what, other that stealing, these people did.

Mouse's low growl woke me up as if someone had punched me. He'd been asleep at the foot of the bed, which was big enough for five of me or two of him, and when he stood up I could see his ruff standing up on end, outlined against the faint light coming in through the window. I sat up just in time to hear a muffled yowl of pain, and the creak of the door swinging open.

They'd found me. Of everything we'd picked up, all the trinkets, all the traps, I was still the easiest source of magic to find. I just hadn't known if they'd be willing to gamble that Koschei's stuff would be with me and not in a vault somewhere, or with the Leverage people.

The house had no lintel to speak of, no doorway. It was a safehouse, a fancy storage unit where I'd spent two nights. I'm sure the leshy had expected some trouble getting through the door, but I already knew they had humans in the roster, and humans could pick a lock or break a window, slip inside and invite the leshy in. There wasn't enough of a presence in the house, mine or otherwise, to kick up a passive defense out of habitation alone.

Which was why Eliot had lined every doorway and windowsill with iron nails.

Another muffled yowl and I was quietly on my feet, reaching for my shirt and my duster. There were a few traps between the leshy and what they sought, but once again I was counting mainly on them not being able to use magic to find the stuff. I drew a deep breath, stepped back from the bed, called Mouse to me, and flicked a throw blanket on the bed.

I'm not good at Veils. I know people who can hide entire stadiums worth of people, sight, sound, scent, every sense. Me, I was counting on it being dark so that when the leshy came up, as they must, it would look like I was still asleep on the bed. It didn't make sense for them to risk waking me up while they tore the place apart, which they'd likely do. Not to mention they could always ask me where everything was, and provide all sorts of incentives for me to tell them.

I managed to get my sneakers on before I heard the stairwell creak minutely. I fell back into the shadows of the closet, Mouse by my side, staff on one hand and wand on the other, and waited.

The door to my bedroom opened very slowly. The same dim, reflected streetlight glow that had shone on Mouse showed me the paw-like hand of a leshy as it stepped forward, sniffing the still air in the room. Its eyes locked onto the bed and it moved forward with a little more confidence. It cleared the door and another one came in behind it. They moved to flank the bed. A third one came in.

The moment it was clear of the door I surged forward, slammed the door shut, and pointed my staff at it. "Forzare."

It might have come out a little angry. I was getting real tired of leshy, to be fair. The blast of force threw the leshy through the window in a shower of glass and wood; it screamed as it went, the iron nails on the windowsill scraping it raw.

Mouse flew at another leshy with a snarl. Its nature betrayed it; not only was my dog very big and fairly terrifying despite his youth, leshy were creatures of the field, their nature very close to rabbits, to hares, to moles. It shrieked in immediate terror and went down, scrabbling and writhing, all the fight gone from it, wanting only to get away from its natural predator.

The last one didn't stop to think. It leapt up and kicked me in the chest. I went through the bedroom door like the old oak wasn't even there. The pain was immediate, immense, blinding. Next thing I knew I was on my knees out on the hallway, and I couldn't breathe. I'd be lucky if nothing was broken. Leshy kick like the hares they look like, and the fairy-thug's reaction had been so quick I'd had no time to summon my shield.

Mouse was barking furiously in the bedroom; I couldn't get wits or breath enough to get back on my feet, but I had just enough of them to see motion coming up the stairs. I swung my wand around and let a stream of fire blaze out. The figure in front shrilled inhumanly; behind it, someone cursed entirely too humanly.

I had to get up. I had to move. I was easy prey if I didn't. I got one leg under me just in time for one panicked leshy to come sprinting out of my bedroom, and we both went down in a tangle. It tried to bite my face, and I just barely put an arm up. Its teeth caught it, but couldn't quite punch through the duster's defenses. It didn't feel like roses, though, and someone let out a very undignified howl of pain. Couldn't have been me.

I'd lost my wand when we'd gone down, and I didn't have enough room to bring my staff to bear, so I let go of it, put my free hand on the leshy's face, and let go with all the electricity I'd collected the past day. I didn't have the breath to call it - the words aren't part of the magic as much as an exercise in focus, a visualization aid. I could throw everything around without them, but I'd been using the word to try not to get zapped myself. It was a sacrifice I was willing to make.

Electric fire lit up the leshy's skull from within, made its ears stand up on end; it rolled down my hand and up my arm, but I was far more interested in the fairy-thug not getting another bite in. Fortunately, it crashed down limp on top of me, smoking faintly.

I shoved it aside and groped around for my staff. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end and I threw my shield up instinctively.

A net crashed over it and came to rest on the gleaming half-bubble, and I was in trouble. The net had magic, unknown magic, probably meant to counter mine. I couldn't let go of the shield without getting caught in the net. I couldn't do magic without dropping the shield. The hallway was narrow, and they couldn't get to me any more than I could get to them, but that left them free to tear my house apart.

Which was apparently the going plan. The leshy I'd singed on the stairwell called out something to the human behind it, who shouted in Russian down the stairs. I heard the door to one of the rooms slam open, and a crowbar start work on the crates.

I forced myself to draw a deep breath. Mouse was still engaged with the last fairy-thug in the bedroom. My ribs were still screaming. My lungs had mostly forgotten how to work. But I needed that breath, I needed the focus of it.

At the peak of it, I dropped to a crouch, dropped the shield and called out, "Ventus!" more or less at the same time.

Have I mentioned I'm a hammer when it comes to magic?

Wind roared out, coming out of me in every direction. It threw the net for parts unknown, it sent the people on the stairwell flying back, stumbling down the steps with startled squawks and something that sounded very much like cursing. I wouldn't know, I don't speak Russian. I found my wand under my foot, lifted my staff and for good measure threw a second gout of wind down the stairwell. "Mouse!"

He came charging out of the room. I peeked in. The leshy was crawling away for the gaping hole in the wall that had been a window, both legs a ruin of greenish blood. I closed what was left of the door between it and us and began to inch my way down the stairs.

There was a hissed, angry argument going on at the bottom of the stairs, probably wondering if I was worth the trouble. Oh, I was not. So many people could've told the thugs, I'm very much not worth the trouble. I'm a burr, and at that point I was an angry burr, and to compound their misery I was an angry burr that could do magic.

Someone shouted a warning in the dark of the first floor. I threw my shield up.

Three bullets bounced off it, along with a shower of sparks. Oh, ok. Uh. I hadn't expected them to decide I was that kind of trouble. Hell's Bells. Boston had powered up my shield, but I'd apparently finally hit on the limit of what the damaged bracelet could do. If it hadn't been made to hold back more mundane threats as well as magic, I would have been very much in trouble.

I could see, vaguely, four of them gathered in what was supposed to be the living room. I was pretty sure there was at least one more crashing and wrecking one of the rooms. I saw one of them grab and yank at another, and some tiny part of me was glad to know the leshy themselves didn't want me shot, but that didn't mean one of their number, likely one of their human buddies, didn't have a gun he was entirely too willing to use. I had to finish this quick, before someone else got trigger-happy.

I dropped the shield. Mouse leapt the moment it was gone, with a snarl like a roar. I love my dog. I know my dog. At that moment I was absolutely terrified of my dog.

So were the thugs. I slammed the butt of my staff on the ground before any of them could get any ideas. "Forzare!" The shockwave sent two of them tumbling - the humans. The leshy tottered, but managed to stay upright. One of them immediately went down with a panicked screech when Mouse slammed into it.

The other twisted one hand sharply and threw something at me that glittered in the dark. I threw my shield up automatically.

The night's breath powder settled on it and began to burn.

I heard a howl, realized belatedly that it was mine; my shield-bracelet had gone instantly white-hot while it tried to defend against the very thing that was attacking it. I dropped the shield, felt the poison sink into my magic. The leshy charged me, as aware as I was that I couldn't throw magic around wildly anymore; I could very well run out of energy mid-fight.

So I swung the staff at it as hard as I could.

The impact drove it into the wall and it staggered back, dazed. I stepped into its space and punched it. Hey, it worked for Eliot. It went down on its knees with a cry.

But the two human thugs were getting up, and one was lifting his arm in a familiar fashion. I couldn't gamble, I called up my shield, gritting my teeth against the pain. The goon slammed the taser into it, electricity arcing from it over the roiling surface of the half-bubble.

I put my hand out, the one with the wire bracelet, dropped the shield and called the electricity to me. It burned down my already singed fingers, and into the bracelet, and I threw it at the other man before he could get it into his head to start shooting again. He made a sound like a broken police siren and crashed down, twitching.

I'd been keeping my eye on the group in front of me and that open bedroom door, but in the middle of the chaos I forgot that leshy are like roaches: there's always more than the ones you see. Something came at me from the kitchen and hit the back of my head. It wasn't even painful; it was just instantaneous darkness; everything shut down. My cheek hit the floor, but I didn't feel it so much as vaguely registered that my perspective on things had changed radically. I heard Mouse snarl, and someone screamed - the natural order of things.

Things went blurry and uncertain for a while. I heard the group talking, and Mouse barking furiously, but I was only aware of it because it was Mouse, and I was worried that they'd hurt him. The night's breath had settled on me like the weight of the world, burning, hissing in a way only I could hear. I felt crushed. I couldn't breathe. My magic felt sluggish and foul, like blood poisoning.

"It's not just the circle, he's got a ward of some sort around them," a man's voice said in English. Someone else spoke in Russian. I was beginning to understand Hardison's comment about learning a language by infection.

"Koldun", a hoarse, gravelly voice said. Something grabbed my face and picked me partially up, talons prickling my cheeks. "Wizard," the leshy said in terrible English. "You hear me?"

"I thought leshy didn't speak." I was trying to get myself in the game, but the night's breath was burning into my bones, my ribs hurt like someone had kicked them out of my chest, and my head was pounding.

The leshy growled - its way of laughing, I realized. It said something to one of the people around. We were in my basement. There were glow-sticks all over, illuminating my work: the brass circle on the concrete floor, closed and holding strong around a small shoebox full of Koschei's knick-knacks. Inside the circle were two more wards: the tracking foil I'd copied from the key, and a little bubble of force, very much like my shield, meant to keep things and people from this side of the Nevernever from getting through.

See, I could learn. I'd remembered that the leshy had been working with humans back at the museum, and I'd been ready.

"He says, 'the world changed, we changed with it'." It was the man who'd shouted a warning earlier, likely the one who'd shot at me. He was wearing all black, the better to be impossible to distinguish from the rest of the group. The leshy growled something at him. "You will dismiss the circle and remove the rest of your protections."

I gritted my teeth. Those talons were like shoe cleats, sharp and solid, and the fairy's grip was incredibly strong. They'd stripped me down to my pants and tee, and I was pretty sure they'd taken off anything that wasn't nailed down. I couldn't even feel the familiar weight of my pendant around my neck. My arms were bound behind me and my shoulder was really unhappy about that. They'd even taken my shoes off. "Bite me."

The leshy growled again and it occurred to me that it probably wasn't a good idea to invite him to do that. It said something a little longer this time. I was trying to figure out if I could use their ignorance to my advantage: the outermost circle was just that, a circle. Any of their human buddies could have made it past it. But because the leshy knew magical circles to be impregnable, they apparently hadn't thought to have the humans try.

"You will dismiss the circle," the translator said. "Or we will shoot your dog."

My lunge was instinctive. And pointless. The leshy stopped me before I could get an inch closer and slammed me back against a wall. It was just hard enough to be painful, but not enough to knock me out again. He even gave me a few minutes to find the wits he'd just send scattering all over with that casual bit of controlled violence.

"I drop the circle, you shoot us both."

The translator spoke. The leshy examined me, head cocked, golden eyes throwing an occasional red gleam when the light hit them just right. He said something long-ish.

"He considered it," the man translated. "But is not worth a death-curse, and you obviously love dog. What assurance can he provide?"

"Lock my dog up in the bathroom. Everyone else waits outside. I'll break the circle for him, and him alone."

"Nyet." The leshy wasn't stupid, though I'd hoped. He spoke at length, the translator asking a couple of questions.

"The dog stays in the net, goes in the bathroom. Three of us stay here. You drop the circle, remove the wards. We take you to the bathroom with your dog. You do not follow."

"I get your gun, you keep the bullets," I added.

That created a brief argument between the man and the leshy, but the translator caved eventually. Not that I didn't think they had a dozen other ways to kill me and Mouse, but the gun was the quickest one.

"And I'll need my hands free."

The leshy didn't wait for the translator. "Use feet."

"Fine."

He dragged me to my feet. Off to one side I could see Mouse, all but wrapped into a net, bound up inside a blanket that had been secured with duct tape. Ah, the net hadn't been for me, it'd been meant for him all along. He snarled, but didn't bark, probably out of pity for my throbbing skull. In the basement the sound would have echoed like thunder. Two humans picked him up warily, and while he tried to snap at them, he couldn't do more than twitch and drool. All but two leshy and the translator followed them out of the basement.

The translator pulled out the gun, removed the clip and the loaded bullet, and I twisted so he could give it to me. He didn't look happy. I made a show of muttering under my breath and calling up some magic. The effort bent me over double and I nearly felt my legs go to jelly. Bile rose up in my throat, and the lead leshy had to hold me up. I had to make it look like I was doing something, though, otherwise the leshy would catch onto my bluff about the circle.

But Boston, ah, Boston. The night's breath couldn't corrode what the city was giving me fast enough. If I could just get away, purge all of the corroded magic, I'd be fine. As it was, I had the power to throw a punch, I just had no way of knowing if it was going to blow up in my face or theirs.

I took a couple of deep breaths, tried again, and scuffed my foot over the circle and the two wards beyond it. And very calmly said, "Ignitum".

The circle broke. The lead leshy gestured the other two forward. The shoebox was plain, empty of anything but the rough dozen or so things Parker and I had got from Koschei. Everything was there, even the feathers and the invitation.

Except for two things.

The leshy grabbed me by the throat. "Key, koldun." He snapped at the translator.

"You are missing things. Where are they?"

"I only agreed to break the circle. It's not my fault if you didn't check your shopping before you paid the bill."

The leshy didn't like that. It slammed me against a wall and snarled. The translator opened its mouth -

The other leshy, who'd managed to grab the box, squealed in pain when something hot dripped down on it, then shrieked, clawing at its shoulder as a sizzling sound and the smell of burning fields began to fill the room. One of the ceiling tiles crashed down.

Everyone looked up. I just grinned at them.

Eliot had set up the trap for me, and he'd honestly had a blast doing so. The basement was bare concrete in every direction; to hide the fact that he was putting iron everywhere he could reach, he'd put up styrofoam ceiling tiles. He'd glued them to the concrete.

He'd laced the glue with iron filings.

Throwing a magical punch? Fifty-fifty. Melting fresh silicone that wasn't even hard yet? Child's play.

The lead leshy barked an order. The translator started for me. While they were both distracted I balanced myself on one foot, lifted the other, and kicked the leshy as hard as I could in the gut. He went sprawling back and crashed down on the floor. I snapped out the word of command. The circle snapped into life and cut him in half.

I dropped to my knees, most of my focus on not throwing up. The rest I channeled into forcing all the corroded magic the night's breath had poisoned out of me. I didn't even bother giving it shape, I just threw it out. It flattened the last two thugs and sent me crashing down on my face, even as I tried to force myself to get up, get to the box, I couldn't let them have the box -

More melted silicone dripped down. The last leshy squalled something that didn't sound nice, and the one human cursed. He came at me, trying to take his gun back. I drew in a deep breath and threw what little clean power Boston had given me in his face as a flash of light. He staggered back, blinded, swearing.

His buddy caught him and they both ran out of the basement, and I was left there, breathing hard, wondering if I should pass out. Or throw up. Or both, maybe. Somewhere above me Mouse was barking fit to bring the house down.

Passing out it was.

TWENTY FIVE

The gunshots woke up the neighbors. The neighbors woke up the cops, who expected to be summoned to such an address to bar brawls or petty theft, not to shots fired in a staid, elderly Boston neighborhood.

The gunshots also roused Nate. He came sprinting down the block to find half a dozen people peering out nervously, each one demonstrating vividly what they considered a safe distance, and none of them agreeing. The mastermind, who knew exactly how far a bullet could travel on kinetic energy alone, never mind inertia, didn't want to think of what would happen if there were more shots. He began taking stock of the problem by waving his phone at three of the people on the street. "Did someone, uh, did someone call the cops?" When the neighbors confirmed, he let out a long breath. "Good, good. Hey, those weren't gunshots, were they?" he asked as he dialed. "Hardison."

The Leverage team roused like a nest of wasps. A Crime Scene van and a two-man team nearly beat the cops to the site; the truck from Animal Control rolled in with them, and the one man joined the two masked people at the door, the cops making a path for them. All three of them winced as they walked in, pausing to yank their earbuds off.

"He's here," Eliot confirmed to the other two as they lit their flashlights, everyone taking a moment to hold their breath and see if they held - which they miraculously did. "You go ahead with the distraction, I'll find him." They had to find Dresden, get him out of the line of fire, and set up something appropriately gunshot-like but wholly accidental before the cops started looking in earnest. At the moment they weren't setting foot in the house, but Leverage could only guess as to why, rather than confirm.

"I need three minutes in the kitchen," Hardison said from behind Parker.

"I need two in his bedroom."

"I think we can buy you that," Eliot assured them.

"We?"

Despite the worry gnawing at him that the wizard had gone and gotten hurt (again), Eliot could only smile faintly. He whet his lips and whistled lightly.

From somewhere in the dark Mouse started barking immediately in response, a sound like thunder. Nate and Sophie, part of the crowd outside, saw every cop wince and twitch away. None of them went for their guns; none of them looked willing to go into the house. The crowd shifted restlessly, and stepped back without being urged to it. They crossed a look, but said nothing.

Parker threw a clean suit and a mask at Eliot and they split up. Alone in the dark, Eliot launched himself to the guest bathroom, just to one side of the stairs. "Harry!" When he got no answer he tried again, just a little louder. "Dresden!" No answer. He sniffed; there was a faint, familiar scent in the air that he couldn't readily place, but which left his gut tightening in anticipation of a punch he couldn't see coming. That, however was immediately set aside when he opened the bathroom door and found Mouse trussed up like a Bolivian hostage. "There you are."

Tied up or not, the Temple dog wagged his tail at him. Eliot started sawing on the duct tape, then paused; there was something sticky on either the ropes of the net or the blanket. Or the dog. Eliot considered shining the light on it, then decided he was better off not knowing. "We need to be quiet," he told Mouse, who whuffed nearly soundlessly at him. "And we need to find Harry, fast."

The moment he was loose, the mastiff sprang up on his feet and charged out of the bathroom. Eliot followed him down the stairs to, where else, the basement. The air was hot and full of the scent of burning plastic. Styrofoam tiles had fallen and shattered, leaving the tidy space a wreck. Eliot smelled rotten candy and recoiled. "Mouse, don't!"

The dog froze, and stepped back, whining.

Eliot knew that smell. He'd only smelled it once before, but sometimes that was all it took. He'd smelled it again, faintly, by the stairs. Rotten candy. Burning licorice. The basement cloyed his senses with it. Someone had come in prepared to take down both wizard and dog, and the hitter gritted his teeth. "Night's breath," he murmured, looked down at the dog. Moused looked up at him, ears perked. "You gonna be alright in there?"

Mouse eased himself gingerly into the basement. Paused. Whuffled.

Eliot followed. "Harry?"

A groan answered him, and he charged in. His boots squished on something very much not blood, but he didn't stop to check what it was. "Harry!"

"I'm gonna be sick," the wizard moaned. Eliot found him slumped in a heap against one side of the basement, tied up very efficiently, looking ashen under the light of the flashlight, Mouse licking his face enthusiastically.

"Place reeks of night's breath, man."

"That was me," Dresden admitted as Eliot worked to free him. "Someone dosed me upstairs. Burned it off here." He let out a vague sound of pain when his hands came loose and he started working feeling into them immediately. "They took the box."

"Who's surprised," Eliot grimaced when he nearly lost his grip on his knife sawing at the ropes around Harry's feet. "What… Why is everything slimy down here?"

"That was me, too," the wizard admitted. "I killed one of the leshy. Things from the Nevernever kinda melt when they die."

"They m- You mean- " Eliot found himself suddenly realizing he was, apparently, wading knee-deep through someone's equivalent of bodily fluids. "You mean we're covered in fairy blood?"

"Blood, guts…" Harry waved a hand to encompass a nebulous whole.

Full of violence as his life was, Eliot definitely had feelings about the situation, and none of them were good. "Damn it, Dresden!" he snapped as he helped the wizard to his feet and dragged him up the stairs.

"It'll evaporate to nothing soon!"

"And what part of 'don't get hurt' didn't you get?"

"You also said 'make it believable'," Harry protested wearily. "And they had humans with them. Again. And the humans had guns so. You know. The night's just been full of surprises."

Eliot hissed a breath out. Of course they would. "Alright. Get dressed." He thrust the clean suit and the mask at Harry. "We're going out the front door."

"Out the - They're gonna notice there's more people going out than came in."

Parker choose that moment to pop up next to them, making them both jump. "I'm not going out the front door." She had Harry's duster on, which made her look even more elfin than she already was, and looked terribly pleased with herself. "I found everything. They had it all stashed together. Amateurs."

Eliot merely imagined strangling the thief. Only a little. Just to soothe his rising temper. "They weren't thieves, Parker." When she gave him a pointed look the hitter realized what he'd said. "Ok, yes, they were thieves, but they weren't here to rob Harry!" Her brows went up. "You know what I mean! Is Hardison done?"

"I'll go check." She turned to look at Harry, and frowned minutely. "Are you hurt?"

"If I answer that, Eliot will get mad at me," he told her as he zipped up the clean suit.

To the hitter's chagrin, she took in that answer solemnly, nodded, and raced off for the kitchen.

"You are hurt," Eliot accused mildly.

"Leshy like to kick."

"Is anything broken?"

"No." Dresden breathed in, deep and very slow. "I don't think so. I'll get back to you on the concussion, though."

"You have a helluva sense of humor for someone I just found hogtied in his own basement."

Eliot saw the wizard grin, hard and bitter. "Eliot, I'm used to going down. I'm also used to waking up in a cell of one kind or another after." He popped the medical mask in place and put up the hood. "This is a distinct improvement."

The hitter had to pause at that. "Harry, don't you have anyone? Anyone that has your back?"

The wizard paused, went very still. "People… don't do so good when they get involved in a wizard's affairs," he admitted slowly, and the burden of pain and guilt and regret in his voice brought Eliot up very short. It had been years since he'd heard such a refined, complex mix of exactly those emotions from someone, but he remembered the day well enough.

He'd been staring in a mirror at the time, and he'd been horribly young.

"And not a lot of people accept that 'men in gray and big swords' trump a lot of the answers they sometimes want out of me."

The hitter caught the wizard's good shoulder. "Harry, for what it's worth," he said evenly. "I know it's hard. I know how it is when you've drawn a line on the sand and no one sees you holding it. Me, I'm here to keep my team safe. Twice, so far, I wasn't there - but you were. And that's enough for me. Thank you."

Dresden blew out a long breath. "Don't suppose you guys want to move to Chicago?"

"No more than you wanna move to Boston." Eliot looked up to see Hardison coming out of the kitchen, passing his backpack to Parker and taking hers in exchange. "Come on. The timing Hardison cooked up is tricky."

They marched out, the Animal Control guy first, leading the friendliest, most gigantic and slobberiest ball of fur out, leaving all the cops vaguely embarrassed that they'd been afraid to step into the house. Mouse hammed it up, tongue lolling to one side and tail wagging cheerfully. The crime scene people cleared out, the cops poured in, and everyone jumped into their respective vehicles.

It took a while to put both the Animal Control pick-up and the Crime Scene van back in place, none the worse for their small adventure, and everyone reconvened back at the loft. Sophie reported that there had been plenty of cops in the kitchen when the same security system that had destroyed the bedroom window interacted badly with an ancient electric board, entombed in the walls. The system had blown the garden door out onto the overgrown grass, and the antique board had gone off like a gun once again. A report had been written; fines would have to be paid. The owner had been summoned, and she'd been most grateful for everyone's prompt response, gracious and elegant even in her concern. Everyone had gone home somewhat disappointed and secretly reassured that life could go back to what it should be: quiet.

While Sophie soothed the mood at the safehouse, Nate came to see Dresden as Eliot, once again, patched up the wizard in the small spare bedroom behind the kitchen. Harry's entire chest was a rising, ugly bruise. When Eliot moved away to wash his hands, he spoke very quietly to the mastermind. "You know, when I said I'd like a job where I wasn't a punching bag, this wasn't what I meant."

"I know." Nate's mouth was pressed to a thin line. It wasn't just the injuries, or the attack. Violence threatened them all, that was just part of the job. But the violence that kept coming at Dresden was unpredictable and far too big for any countermeasures to readily work. "He's getting more hurt than you have in our worst jobs," he murmured quietly at the hitter.

"He's a civilian, Nate."

"So are you," the mastermind pointed out. "But I know what you mean."

"He doesn't have the training, he doesn't have the mental firewalls."

"Can you teach him?"

"In what, two days?!"

Nate gave the hitter a very keen, very level look. "I think he'd be grateful, and better off, with whatever you do give him." He pitched his voice to carry. "Dresden, what did they get?"

"Everything," Harry replied, testing his arm until Eliot flung a sling at him. "Everything but the key and the Witchwell."

"Mm. But he doesn't need those two back nearly as urgently as everything else. Not once Fedorov's offer gets to him. And he already has the portrait, he doesn't need help stealing it."

"He does if the Witchwell's not his and he needs to return it to the proper owner," the wizard pointed out, frowning thoughtfully.

"Does he?"

"He might. I'm guessing," Harry admitted, "but I don't think it's his. It's too modern, it doesn't fit what we know of the guy."

"I agree with Harry," Eliot added.

"So do I," Nate replied. "His reaction at the bagel shop was very telling. But the man in black has to know we can't destroy it, and he has to know it'd be much easier for him to recover it after the auction." He seemed momentarily lost in thought. He was wondering if Koschei would think of the many ways in which the Witchwell could be turned against him; if that potential danger would force him to divert attention and effort to its recovery.

And in three days' time, I will grant you and your people your heart's desire.

"He'll wait. He'll wait until he can simply take it back."

"He could take it back right now," Harry muttered.

"Could he? That's twice you've faced his hired thugs, and twice you've survived, Dresden. Twice you've almost won, until an external factor stepped in. Have a little faith in yourself. From his side, his odds don't look good."

Eliot understood. "He doesn't gamble. When he wins, he likes it to be by overwhelming force."

The mastermind nodded. "And every time Dresden steps in, it doesn't matter what the man in black throws on the field, it never ends up with a clean victory for him. He'll wait. We go on with the con. Get some rest, Dresden. You're no use as a monkeywrench if you're in pieces."

"I live to please, boss," the wizard declared wearily.

[practicecourts]

7 Up Game

Thanks to @athenasparrow for the tag (that's right, you don't remember because this apparently has been sitting in my drafts for for ever...) but words don't expire, right!? Rules of the game: post the last seven lines of your WIP (or the one you're currently working on?!). spoilers and this thing is unedited and currently sits as *ch 26 smutfairy* in my files.. I thought you could appreciate that little fun fact ;-)

tagging you (bc its been forever.) and whoever else feels like this! I'd love to read more of everyone's wips. Come make my TBR list even bigger ;-) @wearingaberetinparis @velvethopewrites @uncertainwallflower @annabtg @relyingonoldships @startanewdream @glitterwitch1

He was close enough for his breaths to warm her lips as he spoke, “How someone can make you feel as if you’re anything but perfect, just as you are - just you, no accessories of any shape, size or gender needed - is just beyond me.” Her mind froze, like a deer standing completely still in a forest, so she wouldn’t be seen by anyone. Yet, he’d already seen her. He’d already seen so much of her and he was still looking for more. Just before he found her mouth again - around the time her fingers remembered they were curled around his belt and he derailed their plans by pushing her back down on the bed, his leg planted firmly between hers - she saw his lopsided smile appear on his face and melted inside. He was warmth and comfort that turned to heat and desire in an instant. Her fingers were no longer waiting for her brain to catch up but found the buckle and halfway pulling it off.

[prfctparis]

Operation: Get the Corrie Guards Some Supplies

AO3 Link

summary: Zariza learns that the Coruscant Guard gets less supplies than their siblings who are out at the front lines. She decides to do something about it.

a/n: i started this two years ago & i’m only just now finishing it. anyway – have more my star wars au and my oc zariza :)

"What in the karking sith-hells do you mean you don't have enough supplies to help your siblings?" Zariza incredulously asks. She's following the clone medic around, using the hours of not having padawan classes as time to get to know some of the clones better – more specifically, the Corries, as she's heard some of the 187th guys call them – like she has been doing more and more whenever on leave.

It honestly started out as bringing a 'Sorry You Guys Had to Arrest Me and My Friends and then Witness Me Yell at My Master' apology gift (AKA multiple containers of the best candy and snacks she could find) a few months ago. Then gradually, she began to stop by and check on them for no other reason than the fact that she wanted to – just for the heck of it. Now she almost knows them as well as she does the men in her and Master Mace's battalion. Sometimes Bitty tags along or Elvira (they both came with her to bring the apology gift, seeing as they also got arrested), or sometimes even her other friend Ashlee.

Commander Fox mostly just tolerates her, where as Stone and Thorn have let her follow them around when they aren't on duty. Or even when they are, and they are positive no one will get in trouble for it. Once in a while Fox lets her sit in his office and meditate, which is nice. She's pretty sure it also helps him relax during the extremely stressful days but he isn't willing to admit it, and Zariza isn't about to make him.

More often than not, though, Zariza can be found greeting the shinies if there are any, helping the medics (or anyone, really) with minuscule tasks, and happily spending time with the men off duty. There are all stoic and extremely professional when on the job (which, yeah, is most of the time, and that's a little concerning but also a thought for a other time), but Zariza has helped them have fun when not working by bringing a few games that they can easily hide if and when necessary.

Unfortunately, today none of her friends tagged along for various reasons she can't be bothered to remember at the moment, and now she is on her way with Pat, one of the medics, to get the medical supplies that have arrived.

Which brings them to their current conversation.

The fact that the Corrie Guards don't get as many supplies as the others is almost incomprehensible in her mind. It's also news that immediately gets her riled up.

Pat gives her look – or, she assumes they do. Their helmet is currently on, but the way it tilts gives her some idea of the expression they're wearing. "I thought Jedi didn't cuss?" they ask, instead of replying to her question.

Zariza pauses and then shrugs. "Some do, most don't. Anakin was a bad influence about it growing up, and honestly Master Mace isn't much better. He likes to act like he is, though.”

The medic hums, sounding genuinely interested in that information.

Maybe they are trying to derail the topic, get her mind off of the absurd news of the Guard medics not getting enough supplies to do their jobs. It doesn't work. "But Pat," she stresses, "The medical supplies! You're apart of the GAR, right? They have to give you enough!"

"Technically, they don't have to do anything for us," Pat tells her. They refrain from saying that the clones are all property. Last time someone did that around the little Jedi, she went on a tangent about living sentients and slaves and then meditated in Fox's office long past night fall; General Windu had to come get her.

(Although, witnessing Fox step into his office only to step back out half a second later with extreme confusion on his face was priceless. Stone has a holopic.)

"The Senate believes that because we are stationed on Coruscant, that we need less supplies than our vod’e fighting on the front lines," Pat explains more. "They think it's safer, or something along those lines."

"The Senate doesn't know shit." She pauses, thinking. "...Senator Amidala excluded."

Pat can't help the snort that leaves their mouth.

"Do you at least try to ask for more?" Zariza then asks.

"Yes."

She grunts, clearly upset. "That's not fair."

"Life typically isn't. War, even more so."

Zariza frowns to herself. "Trust me, I know that." The two of them stop, and Pat opens the door they are now in front of. Inside, the containers of the medical supplies, along with everything else the Guard needs regular shipments of, are stacked on top of each other. At first glance, it looks as though there should be enough for the Corries. But she knows better now. "I just wish there was something I could do."

Pat lands a hand on her shoulder. "Kid, just knowing you want to help is more than we can ask for."

She looks at them, frown still in place. "Don't take this the wrong way, but that's kinda pitiful."

They heave a sigh, squeezing her shoulder once before letting it fall. "...Yeah. I know." They shake their head and finally step inside the room. "Come on, now. Let's get everything back to the medbay. I don't want the head medic on our shebs’e for being slow."

+++

Zariza barges into the 187th barracks without any preamble. It happens so suddenly that a few of the men who had been previously relaxing startle into sitting positions, or just down right fall off of their bunks.

Her steps falter and she winces. "Oh, I'm so sorry!"

One of them groans from the floor. "It's alright, Command'ika."

Spite walks over to her. "What's got you in a hurry?" he asks, raising an eyebrow when Zariza continues to speed walk through the bunks. He follows her immediately.

"Where's Bitty?" she asks instead of answering.

Spite sighs quietly. "If this is going to get either of you arrested again–."

"No illegal podracing in the lower levels, I promise," she interrupts. "I was just curious about what Anakin saw in it. Never meant to get in trouble."

"Excuse me for having a hard time believing that, sir," Spite says as respectfully as he can.

She shrugs, head swiveling as she looks for the clones' youngest in the 187th. "You probably have a right not to." She huffs, stopping in her tracks. "Seriously, where is he?" Spinning on her heel, she looks up at him with her hands on her hips.

Spite raises an eyebrow again.

"Near the back with Mayhem," one of the soldiers on a nearby bunk says.

Zariza beams. "Thank you, Mak!"

Mak chuckles as she hurries over to the other clones, shrugging at Spite when he sends him an unimpressed look. "What, vod? Afraid this will be the day you lose the bet?"

Spite shakes his head. "It's not happening until the end of the war, I promise you."

"You're both full of osik! It's not happening at all. They're just friends."

"Any day now, I say. They're spending more and more time together."

"Thank you, Exx!" Mak exclaims.

The shiny who spoke right before Exx goes to speak again, but Spite subtly signs for them to pause the conversation as the two teenagers get close. The two walk side by side, their pace fast but not as hurried as Zariza had been minutes earlier. It's not long at all until their conversation can be heard by Spite and the others nearby.

"—just saying that anytime we go out, something chaotic happens. First the incident with that Pantoran's pet, then we got lost in a different district, and then we got arrested–."

"Okay, okay, I get it! But we're just going to the Temple and the Room of a Thousand fountains to meet up with some other padawans. Chaos free!"

When she grins reassuringly, the (biologically) sixteen year old boy pins her with the most skeptical expression Spite has ever seen on him. "You're planning something," he states after a second.

Zariza relents, "Maybe, but–."

"Oh, my gods–."

The two walk by, hardly noticing them, and belatedly shout a goodbye at the barrack's door before it closes completely.

Mak smiles. It's good to see the kids happy; the war has been beating all of their shebs’e as of late, and the death of Commander Ponds lowered all of the kids' morales – Zariza, Bitty, and a lot the shinies. Thankfully, they have been acting more like themselves as the weeks go by.

"Ponds would love to see them hanging out so much," Exx says.

Mak hums in agreement.

"Way to bring down the mood," someone om a different bunk close by mumbles bitterly.

"Guys," Spite tiredly calls out before an argument can break out. "Not tonight. Please."

It's only quiet for a moment.

One of the newer shinies, either brave or stupid, cautiously asks, "...So, is now the time to ask why Bitty ages normally?"

Spite can only sigh.

+++

Mace Windu and Obi-Wan Kenobi are walking through the halls as they converse about mundane things, when they witness Mace's padawan learner, the teen clone, Obi-Wan's padawan learner as well as his grandpadawan, and then Plo's padawan all run by and turn down the nearest corner. The two Masters Jedi share a quick glance before following their path at a much calmer yet still quick pace. They turn the corner just in time to see the five teens hurry into the Room of a Thousand Fountains.

"Did either of you see Ahsoka come this way?" Anakin's voice meet their ears as he hurries to them, slightly out of breath and a bit bewildered. He stops on the other side of Obi-Wan. "Zari, Bitty, Pytir, and Elvira just ran by and dragged her away with them."

"Yes. They went into the Room of a Thousand Fountains," Mace responds. He looks at the young Knight. "Do you have any idea what your sister is planning?"

"Not this time," Anakin sighs, close to a grumble.

"Well," Obi-Wan starts hopefully, "it can't be too bad if they are in the Temple."

Mace gives Obi-Wan a dry look. "Kenobi. You and I both know that has not stopped either Skywalker before."

"Now hold on–."

Obi-Wan nods and sighs. "Yes, that is quite true, unfortunately."

"Hey!" Anakin grunts and crosses his arms. "I've matured," he argued, and is quickly met with matching looks of slight disbelief, though Anakin can tell that Obi-Wan is also amused.

"I suggest we just leave them to it," Mace eventually says, which surprises both of the other men but Anakin is the only one who lets it show completely; Obi-Wan's features smooth out. "For now, at least. I trust that we will be able to sense something if anything does go wrong."

Obi-Wan and Anakin agree after a moment's thought. Surely, despite the Skywalker trait of causing trouble no matter what won't make too much of an appearance tonight, and it's not like any of them don't have a way to check up on their respective padawans. Bitty and Elvira, not so much – but surely...

Hopefully whatever they are doing will be mild.

+++

Turns out, planning various ways to get the Corrie Guards more medical supplies without alerting the Senate of anything isn't as easy or as quick as Zariza first wants to believe.

Once she has explained everything to Ahsoka, Elvira, Pytir, and Bitty, they all begin to throw out ideas on what to do and how to do them, and whether or not the entire thing should be a surprise. Zariza immediately argues that it shouldn't. She and Fox don't talk often, most of her time with the other commander is when she's meditating, after all, but she does plan on asking how he would feel about getting him and his brothers more of the things they needed. Plus, she's pretty sure if they sprung this on him as a surprise, then Fox might see it as some sort of charity work – and not in the good way. He seems like that type of person to take it the wrong way, even though they all mean well.

Zariza wants to avoid that.

They stay in the Room of a Thousand Fountains for three hours that night, simply bouncing ideas off of one another. The only solid plan they have is to eventually get their Masters and then the clone commanders of their battalions and legions in on the plan. Maybe somehow get Master Quinlan Vos, too. He works with the Guard for Shadow work sometimes, so hopefully he will be willing to help. It's not too soon after they make up that part of the barely-there-plan when Bitty has to leave back to the barracks, and when Elvira gets a message from Master Plo Koon that they have to leave the next morning to an unknown Outer Rim planet.

("At least it's not Tatooine," Zariza tells her best friend.

Elvira scrunches her nose. "From the stories you've told me, I have to agree."

She smirks to herself and says, "Oh, you should definitely ask Anakin for more stories. Mention the amount of sand," and then turns around to walk off with Bitty back to the barracks.

The message she receives on her comm an hour and a half later from her brother demanding "why the kriff did Elvira just ask me about the karking sand on that sith-damned planet" has her barely holding back laughter when she eats a late dinner with Masters Mace and Depa.)

+++

"So, can I ask why you want to do this for the Corries?" Bitty asks two days later.

They are in hyperspace, off to some place that is being relentlessly attacked by Separatists, and Zariza and Bitty are sitting side by side in a small break room still trying to come up with a solid enough plan before telling anyone else. Sometimes they commtext the others. Zariza should probably be studying for a test she has to take in her negotiations class once they are back on Coruscant, and Bitty should probably be studying one of the many medical holopads the medics gave him to make sure he isn't behind on any knowledge, but instead they are casually playing a miniaturized version of dejarik on her 'pad while they think of how to best go about getting more supplies for the Corries.

Zariza doesn't immediately respond. She moves one of her characters, eliminating two of Bitty's, and he cusses under his breath in Mando'a.

She takes in a steady breath. "So. You... You know how I was a slave?"

He falters. He cautiously glances at her, and then back at the game, pushing the curls off of his forehead when he runs a hand through his hair. "Um. Yeah. It's in your med files," he says. "Even though I'm just a medical assistant to Stitch and them, I have to know your background so I don't, like, traumatize or hurt you any more if I ever need to help the others. I mean, I don't know everything like Stitch has to, but I know some things." Then, awkwardly and because he may be kind of rambling, "Twice, right?"

"Yeah," is all Zariza can say for a moment.

Bitty stays quiet after that. The clones who know that she had been a slave know that it's a...delicate topic, for lack of better words. Something she hardly brings it up with anyone other than Mace and her brother and the mind-healer she's required to talk to regularly. Rarely does she bring it up willingly with anyone else. So, this is unexpected.

He kind of wants to take his original question back, tell her to forget it and that she doesn't have to give him an answer if she doesn't want to. But he doesn't get the chance to.

"Slaves don't get medical help," she finally says, just after Bitty makes a move on dejarik. One of the holomonsters move forward, but nothing else happens. She doesn't take her turn just yet. "If someone gets hurt, we have to rely on each other to take care of each other. Or, uh," her brows furrow, "they do."

Slowly, he nods. "What if– what if someone needs medical help, though?" Bitty haltingly asks despite his better judgement.

She shrugs, expression a bit detached. When she speaks, her voice is equally so. "Dep– ...The slavers don't do anything, mostly just let them die if the wound's bad enough. At those times, the slaves either miraculously live, or don’t. Mercy killings aren't uncommon among them." Dark eyes stare at the game but they're unfocused.

Bitty kind of hates himself for not shutting up.

He fidgets for a moment but then moves to get into a better sitting position – not so accidentally bumping into Zariza during the process. The jostling makes her take in a short yet sharp quiet breath in, and she shakes her head, reaching to make the next move in the holochess game.

"Your brothers not getting the supplies they need..." She sounds more like herself then, even if her voice is still quiet, and she isn't staring through the holomonsters anymore. Rather, she's watching them. "It puts a bad taste in my mouth, so to speak. If I can do something to help, I will."

"You will. I know it," Bitty tells her, and he sounds so sure about it to even his own ears. Zariza finally tears her gaze away from the game and at him. He grimaces. "Just like how I know you're going to beat me in this game again."

She smiles, and settles back in her seat. "If you'd just let me teach you–."

"Nope, no way, I can do it without anyone's help."

"Say that to the past ten times you've lost."

"I think you're gaining an ego."

"I think you're just a sore loser."

"I think you should both be studying," Spite's voice breaks up the bantering as he enters the break room, heading straight for the caf. Both teenagers jump in their seats and turn around on the small, uncomfortable couch to look at the man.

Bitty glowers at him. "Rude."

"Can we finish this round of dejarik first?" Zariza politely asks.

Spite nods with a shrug. "Sure. General Windu is expecting you at one of the training decks in two hours to practice your katas, Commander."

It's Zariza's turn to nod. "Alright. Thanks for telling me." She turns back around, and Bitty begrudgingly does as well – but not without flipping his brother off.

Spite returns the action and plops in one of the chairs across from the couch, caf in hand and bucket at his feet. "Bitty's losing, right?"

"Oh, definitely."

"Good."

"Hey–!"

+++

The plan ends up being this: take an nondescript, little enough amount from the supplies left over missions and campaigns to the Guard. An amount that won't be suspicious when counting how much is left for later restocking. The battalions and legions will take turns bringing the contraband, as Ahsoka has started to begin to describe it, and make the one sided trade in an area that has no cameras or anything of the like because Zariza is pretty sure this might be illegal in the Senate's eyes.

And, well. As much as she doesn't like the Senate, she doesn't want to be arrested a second time or somehow get the Corrie Guards in trouble.

The padawans tell their Masters of the plan, finally, and Bitty tells Spite once Zariza has told Master Mace, and it's not too long after that Commanders Cody and Wolffe and Captain Rex get told of the plan as well. They all have to think on it, which isn't surprising.

If they disagree, Zariza isn't above figuring out a way to do this by herself.

Anakin, though, is on board immediately, which doesn't shock her in the slightest. So is Commander Cody, which does surprise her but maybe it shouldn't, and Commander Wolffe and Master Jedi Plo Koon only have to think about it for an hour before they're both talking more in depth with Elvira about the plan. Obi-Wan is in on it for sure the next day, and then Rex agrees to join in, and soon enough it's only Mace and Spite who have yet to give a definitive answer.

+++

Mace sits down in the grass next to his padawan a week after her talk with Bitty in the break room, during a lull in the current battle. Zariza has a blaster bolt burn on her hip, a cut above her brow, and she's beyond dirty and ashy from fighting for so long. Mace isn't much better, having gotten hit in both the shoulder and foot rather than letting the bolts get the clones.

This particular fight against the Separatists on this particular planet is taking days to win. Even young Bitty, who is usually ordered to stay on the ship, is planet side to help. All hands on deck are needed to care for the wounded.

Everyone is equally tired, and Mace knows that Zariza can tell both through the bond and how he lets himself slouch that he wants this battle to end as much as she does.

"You care a lot," Mace says after a few minutes of silence between them. "I admire that."

Zariza looks at him, and through the Force bond there's a flash of surprise that's otherwise hidden outwardly. It's obvious not what she's been expecting him to say.

"It also means you get attached easier than others, and paired with your stubbornness, it can be dangerous. The same thing goes for your brother, I'm aware," he tells her. "But I won't be getting into that tonight. What I want to say, my padawan, is that I love how you care about the clones. I hope you know that I care about them, too." When she nods, he continues, "I have meditated on it, and I have also talked with Spite, Plo, Kenobi, and Commander Cody each, and between what the Commanders have both shared, it's obvious that their brothers are not as safe from immediate danger as the Senate believes.

"And so because of that," he says with a barely there smile, "I will help you with this plan of yours."

Zariza blinks a few times, rapidly, and grins. "Are you serious?"

"Deadly," he deadpans. His expression cracks into a smile, though, as Zariza can't hold in her laughter. "Plo and I will also be trying our best to talk the Senate into giving the Guard more supplies. I might ask your brother to speak to Senator Amidala for clues as to how to go about doing so. Lastly, Kenobi will be speaking with Vos, to see if he has more insight on how the Coruscant Guards are fairing with their limited supplies. Hopefully this will end up being a short term thing."

She fidgets, smile wide and all teeth, and she's clearly debating something in her head. Mace almost questions her, but stops himself right when Zariza gets a determined glint in her eyes and throws herself at him. Her arms wrap around his torso and her head settles just under her chin. Mace is frozen for all of half a second, and then he hugs her back. He rests his chin comfortably on the top of her head, the training bond singing with warmth in the Force.

"Thanks, Window," she mutters into his robes.

He smiles. "Of course, little one."

+++

Here is what Fox knows about Zariza Skywalker:

1) She is somehow related to General Skywalker. Whether she's his sister, or cousin, or not related biologically but chose for some reason to have his last name, he doesn't know. And he doesn't plan on asking.

2) As much as she is quiet and kind and polite, she's sometimes also chaotic and snappish and loud. A living contradiction. He thinks it has something to do with General Mace Windu being her Jedi Master that she isn't more rambunctious like General Skywalker. (The stories he's heard from both Cody and Rex are...something, that's for sure.)

3) She doesn't trust the Senate – or something similar. He doesn't know fine the details, but Thire has witnessed her roll her eyes at Senator Orn Free Ta behind the twi'lek's back and then mutter how he's a "disgusting piece of bantha fodder." Fox has no idea what a bantha is, but he's inclined to agree, anyway.

4) She likes befriending his siblings. They like befriending her, too. They all love how she always asks for their names, not their numbers, and makes sure to use them. Of course other Jedi do the same, but a few still use numbers when someone hasn't chosen a name. The little Skywalker doesn't. She even helps some of them try out different names, and makes suggestions when they ask.

(There's also a rumor, one Fox doesn't know how to feel about. If what he heard from Wolffe, who heard from Cody, who heard from Rex, who heard from Grey, who heard from Ponds, who had heard from Spite is true...then the vod'ika who got experimented on to age normally has a crush on her. It might be reciprocated. Part of Fox wants to approve, but his little brother liking someone who is technically his CO sets off warning bells in his head.)

And the newest information: 5) as a padawan, General Skywalker accidentally let loose a murder droid within the Jedi Temple, and Commander Skywalker, as an initiate, attached a flesh eating plant to it for, in Quinlan's words, "shits and giggles."

"I'm sorry," Fox starts, having trouble processing what the Jedi just said. Maybe the lack of sleep is finally catching up. "They did what."

Quinlan shrugs, nonchalant as always, and holds his hands with his palms facing Fox. "I said what I said, Foxy. Murder droid, flesh eating plant – that's literally all I know. Obes told me about it since I hadn't been at the Temple at the time, and he didn't give me the full story."

He has...so many questions. Too many to say his usual dispute about being called 'Foxy'.

"But speaking of the little Skywalker," Quinlan begins and Fox doesn't get a chance to articulate any of the thoughts running through his mind, "She's coming by here to ask you about something."

"When?" The dread is already forming in his gut. If this somehow ends with a flesh eating plant being involved–

A soft knock on his office door sounds.

"Now, apparently," Quinlan says.

Fox gives him a dry look. "You don't even know it's her."

"Force signature." As if that's supposed to be the explanation.

Hells, Jedi are too vague sometimes.

"...Right," he sighs. He doesn't bother putting on his bucket. "Come in!"

The door to his office slides open, and Commander Skywalker steps in. Her appearance takes him by surprise. Visibly tired, a white bandage pokes out from under her sleeveless Jedi tunic, and her curly dark brown hair that's usually down is in a loose nerftail. She's also still wearing the pieces of armor her battalion gave her to wear on her forearms, chest, knees, and calves – all obviously hastily cleaned. With the way she's standing, it's clear that she has a few or so injuries hidden beneath her clothes, but there's a cut on her brow and some sort of wound on the back of her hand, covered by bandages and bacta.

Fox notices that last one as she presses the button on the wall that closes his door manually, when it doesn't close automatically.

Quinlan swears. "Geez, kid, did you just come from a campaign?"

"Yes, actually," says Commander Skywalker. "It wasn't an easy one."

"You couldn't have, oh, I dunno, gone to your quarters at the Temple and rest first?"

She makes a face like Quinlan is the weird one. "No. This is more important."

Quinlan doesn't reply for a moment. Just stares at the teenager and the stubborn tilt of her chin that practically screams she's not backing down anytime soon, even to a non-Force user.

Another reason she probably gets along with his siblings. They're all stubborn pieces of fodder.

Quinlan sighs. "Yeah, I know, squirt. But I'm staying, and when you're done here I'm taking you back to the Temple. Sith-hells, where even is Windu? Why isn't he here?"

"He's debriefing with the Council and the Chancellor, right now."

"Ah," he says. “Don’t blame you for coming here, then.”

"Commander Skywalker," Fox finally gets a chance to speak. "Here to commandeer my office and meditate in the corner again?"

She smiles kindly. "No, not this time. But if you want me to stop that, I will."

Fox almost raises an eyebrow in disbelief, but stops when he remembers his bucket isn't on his head. "It's all right. I don't mind it, too much," he says. As if he could say no if it wasn't. "Vos, here, was just telling me you had a question."

Her eyes cut over to Quinlan before staying on Fox. She begins to fold her hands in front of her, but then must have registered the fact she doesn’t have on her usual Jedi cloak, and opts for folding them behind her back. Akin to a soldier at ease.

Fox keeps his face blank as he thinks: oh – she's nervous. But what about?

Commander Skywalker clears her throat. "So. The other day – or, uh. Well, it's closer to half a month ago, I think. Anyway, I was with Pat to help them bring in a shipment of general medical supplies when they told me that the Guard doesn't get as much as they should."

Fox can’t hold back his brows from furrowing together. Where is the kid going with this? "And if I say we do get enough and Pat was just being dramatic?" he asks, because he's not about to have this turn into some pity thing.

"Then I will say I know that you're lying," she says. Just like that. No hesitation. Straight to the point, and blunt, and that stubborn chin tilt is back and aimed at him, this time.

It surprises him so much that it no doubt shows on his face.

"My friend, Elvira, has done the math. She's figured out how much supplies of medicine, bacta, and rations each battalion and legion needs. The ones out in field have enough, or just so. The Coruscant Guard gets less than a regular sized battalion, which is absurd because you are one of the largest legions and you're on Coruscant, so it shouldn't be too hard to give you the right amount of supplies, but instead you get less because apparently the Senate thinks nothing bad happens here to you guys.

"Protests here get violent – not always, but enough where it's not a surprise when one of your siblings get hurt doing their job protecting Coruscant. The criminal underworld on this planet isn't exactly a walk in the park. The Senate Building is regularly attacked, along with the senators themselves, and you and your siblings are the ones taking the fire, protecting everyone. It's a daily thing. I would bet my right arm that you rarely get leave, and the people in charge of you suck – the Chancellor included.

"If anything, the Coruscant Guard should be getting at least more supplies than a regular sized legion. You don't. It's... Its not fair."

The impassioned speech is half rant, half facts, wrapped around a veiled sense of frustration and anger and something else Fox can’t quite decipher. Commander Skywalker had looked away by the end. Her eyes cut to the side away from him and Quinlan, face tilted in the same direction a little bit, with furrowed brows and an expression that once again tells Fox she is angry but trying to stay calm.

Fox gets the impression, now, that this only isn't a delicate conversation for himself but for her as well. Unwillingly, his eyes fall to her neck, which bears scars reminiscent of a shock collar, or something similar, that aren't more than a year old, at least. They're usually hidden by a shirt with a longer neckline, or somewhat covered by her cloak. This isn't the first time he's noticing them, but is the first time he's gotten a good look.

It has Fox's first instinct to snap at the girl that this isn't her business to fall away.

He looks away before she notices, and gathers his thoughts together.

"I doubt you're saying all of this just to say it," Fox says. Then, with a subtle steadying breath, "You are not wrong. We don't...get as much of the things we need as we should. But we manage. We have to."

"Well, you shouldn't have to," she says hotly.

He silently agrees.

Commander Skywalker takes in a calming breath, and finally turns her head so she's facing him again. The heated anger has diminished somewhat from her eyes, but it's still there. Her tone, though, is back to being hesitant and nervous when she speaks again, "I... I have a plan. To get you and your siblings more supplies. But I won't do it if you don't want me to. It involves going behind the Senate's backs, so it's likely on the illegal side of things. But, like I said, it won't happen without your approval. It's your choice."

It's your choice.

Fox doesn't think he's heard those words uttered to him before. It kind of makes his brain malfunction for a second.

His choice. His siblings' choice.

"...I need to think about it."

+++

"You're joking," Thorn says, later that night at 79's after Fox updates him and the other Corrie Commanders on what happened. They only have a few hours of time off before they need to high-tail it back to their job.

"I'm not."

"Holy kriff."

"Why?" Stone questions. "I mean. I know she's a nice Jedi shiny and all, so it doesn't surprise me, to an extent, but what does she get out of it?"

"She's a Jedi," Thire says. "They're selfless, or that's what others say. She's not expecting anything in return."

Fox stays quiet as they continue to talk. A few minutes later, he's getting up and stalking the bar for 187th's newest Commander and battalion's medic. Ten minutes later, he's back at the shared table with Spite and Stitch in tow. He takes his original seat back beside Stone but Stitch shoves at them so he can have room to sit, while Spite squeezes in the booth on the other side with Thorn and Thire.

"She told you, I'm guessing," is Spite's first words after getting kidnapped from his own group – Mayhem and Knuckles, while trying to simultaneously drag Bitty away from the area of the bar with alcoholic drinks, stare at them in confusion and suspicion.

"Yes. Why does she want to help?" It's not so much a question as it is a demand.

Stitch rolls his eyes.

Thire says, "Need I repeat: she's a Jedi."

"You didn't ask her that yourself?" asks Stitch.

"No," Fox admits. "Getting told I actually have a choice for once sort of..." He waves a hand in the air, still a bit flabbergasted.

"Broke your brain?" Spite suggests.

"The most choice we have is whether or not we choose to paint our armor. Having the choice to say yes or no to more supplies, illegally acquired or not, is something else."

"I'm leaning towards 'no', honestly," Thorn admits. "What if the plan, whatever it is, fails? We'll be the ones taking the heat of it. And how can we know she's trustworthy? This is a kid we're talking about. A shiny, basically."

“Our Command’ika would never put you guys in trouble intentionally,” Spite says – a little defensively, Fox notices.

“I know that, but she’s still a shiny.” He gestures over to where Mayhem is carrying out Bitty on his shoulder, Knuckles laughing as the kid tries to get out of the other’s hold. “They don’t make the smartest decisions.”

“What about helping you guys is stupid?”

“Maybe the sneaking behind the Senate’s backs part,” Stone whispers intently, leaning forward so they can hear. “We work directly with the Chancellor. How the kriff is this going to get passed him?”

“If anyone can do it, it’s the Jedi!” Spite whispers just as intense. “She isn’t planning on doing this by herself – she has spoken with me, and General Windu, Kenobi, Skywalker, and Koon and their commanders. They all want to help.”

Thire runs a hand over his head. “I will admit, I want to say yes, but… I’m worried there’s a catch.”

“There isn’t one,” Stitch speaks up for the first time. Everyone looks at him. “Yes, she is a Jedi shiny, and because of that she is naturally compelled to help anyone and everyone without fault. But that isn’t the only reason for her. I won’t tell you, because it’s her choice to tell you guys and I won’t be the one to tell it in her place, but please trust me when I say she only has you and the rest of our vod’e in the Guard in her best interest.”

“And the others?” asks Fox.

“They just care,” answers Spite. “It’s hard to explain, and to accept. Even I’m still baffled by how much General Windu cares for every single one of us in the battalion. But I trust him and Commander Skywalker with my life, and the lives of our vod’e who are stationed under them, as well.”

Stitch nods. “If it came down it, I would put my trust in the other Generals as well, because General Windu trusts them and I trust him.”

Silence falls over the table.

Fox still needs to think about it.

+++

It takes another few days, but when Zariza gets told by Bitty that Fox wants to speak with her after one of her padawan tests, she hurries over as fast as she can, dragging Bitty with her. They make it there in record time.

Fox is sitting at his desk with his helmet off, looking worn and exhausted as always. Stacks of holopads and flimsiwork cover his desk, and she spots a stack of at least three used throw away caf cups. He has a fourth in one hand and a stylus for the ‘pad he’s working on in the other.

She’s fully expecting him to decline the offer. So, after pleasantries and polite greetings when they enter Fox’s office, she isn’t caught off guard when he tells them, “I can’t say yes to your offer.”

There’s still a little disappointment in her, though. “Oh,” she says. “That– I understand.”

“What? But Fox–” Bitty starts.

Fox shakes his head. Setting down the stylus and caf, he leans forward with intent. “No, I don’t think you do,” he interrupts. “Commander. Bitty. Listen to what I’m saying. I can’t say yes.”

Bitty scowls at his brother. “Yes, we get that–”

It clicks for Zariza immediately, right then. Oh. She knows what is happening.

“I understand,” she says, less disappointed and more, well, understanding. “That’s okay.”

Bitty rounds on her. “What? But all the planning we did!” He looks at Fox imploringly. “Don’t you want help, Fox?”

Fox sighs. “Bitty, please tell me your brain isn’t as small as your body.”

“Hey! I’m average height for a clone, you shabuir.”

The man rolls his eyes.

“Bitty, it’s okay,” Zariza says. “He can’t say yes. That’s fine.”

“Then why can’t he just say…” The heat in his eyes dwindle as he trails off, and widen in realization. “Oh.”

Zariza faces the other Commander. “Thank you for giving me your answer, Fox. We will respect your wishes.”

“That’s all I ask, Commander,” he says. “Now leave. I have flimsiwork to do, and the other Corrie commanders distract me enough as is.”

+++

Zariza races outside to the Temple speeder she might have highjacked. And no, she does not have a license for one yet. Climbing into the driver’s side, she starts the speeder, and Bitty gets into the passenger side.

“So, to be make sure I understand: we are still helping the Corries,” Bitty says as the engine starts.

She grins wide. “Yep! Let’s go tell the others.”

He nods. “Okay. But please don’t speed, I don’t want to get arrest—” he gets cut off by his own yelp as Zariza presses her foot in the gas.

“Sorry!” she shouts, not sounding an ounce apologetic as she smirks. “Foot slipped.”

Bitty half heartedly glares at her. “You’re lucky I like you.”

+++

“Fox can’t say yes because he works so close with Chancellor, because if he did say yes and Chancellor Palpatine found out, then that would be bad for everyone but extra bad for Fox. But Fox isn’t saying yes, but he also isn’t saying no, which in a round about means that he is giving us the green light to help the Corrie Guards out without actually saying yes. Make sense?”

Pytir and Ahsoka, the only two who were planet side because Elvira and Plo Koon are out with their legion again, stare at Zariza as they process her words.

“Yeah, it took me a second to realize what he was doing,” Bitty admits from Zariza’s side.

“Slaves did this all the time,” she tells them. “Affirm something in a way that sounds like you’re saying no but aren’t, to avoid trouble from masters, or whoever else is in charge.”

Bitty nods. “My vod’e do it back on Kamino, too.”

Pytir, a young pantoran boy and Obi-Wan’s newest padawan, asks, “Like probable deniability?”

“Plausible deniability,” Zariza kindly corrects, “but yes, exactly.”

“So if the Chancellor does find out and asks Fox about it, he’s not going to get in trouble,” Ahsoka says. “That’s so smart!”

“And that means the others can’t know,” Bitty says, looking at them all. Worry is starting to etch into his features. “I want to help my vod’e, but I don’t want to be the reason Chancellor Palpatine sends off the Corries for decommissioning.”

“Then we don’t let anyone else find out,” says Pytir.

+++

Pat doesn’t notice the influx of supplies at first.

They just think their vod’e are finally beginning to get injured less. An extra box of bacta patches here, another package of bandages there… It’s not a lot, but he notices. And the number in left over supplies at the end of the month increases to where they have just enough instead of too little.

They ask one of the Commanders if they asked for more supplies and it got confirmed. Each one denies it. Each one sounds like they know something he doesn’t.

It isn’t until after a brutal attack on the Senate building when they start piecing things together.

The medics don’t lose their vod’e to lack of supplies or the dreaded mercy killings. They lose them to life threatening wounds and blood loss and kill shots. At one point, Pat is doing his damn best to patch up one vod before he dies, even though he knows they don’t have enough supplies to do so, but–

They do. There are enough supplies to get his vod stable. Enough to patch him up.

They even have a few extra.

…They have extra.

A knock on the med room’s door pulls Pat from inspecting the last box. No one else needs medical attention, and it’s just… Sitting there. Unused. Not needed until further notice.

Pat turns to face the door; their head medic is busy speaking to another patient. They aren’t that surprised to see the Jedi shinies and the young clone that have begun to frequent this place, but he is surprised by the medium sized boxes a few are carrying.

“Hey, Pat,” Zariza greets with a smile. “How is everything?”

“Hey, kids,” he says. “Everything is good as it can be. We lost way less men than my fellow medics and I thought we would.”

Her smile widens, and the others smile as well. “That’s great.”

Bitty holds up the box he has. “We brought some pick-me-ups,” he tells them. “Little goodie bags, or that’s what they call them.”

“They’re just bags of candy, and tiny hand held games to keep your siblings entertained a little while they’re stuck here,” Elvira explains.

“We thought you guys might appreciate it after the chaos that happened at the Senate building,” says Zariza. ‘Chaos’ is putting it lightly. “Usually these are for the younglings at the Temple after a Life Day celebration but the Council agreed you guys need something good, so… Goodies.”

There’s a stinging in Pat’s eyes, and they are wholeheartedly glad that their bucket hides their face. They don’t need a vod’ika witnessing them tear up. It’s been a very stressful twenty-four hours, okay?

“Goodies,” they echo. The kids nod.

“Aw, c’mon, Pat, you’re not gonna send them away, are you?” asks one of their vod’e a medical cot, leg wrapped in a cast and bandages around his head. “We deserve the goodies!”

They shake their head. “No, I’m not. Come on – I’ll help hand them out.”

The three of them quickly get to it, splitting up to make things go faster. The head medic makes a vaguely annoyed noise as Bitty passes him, but it gets cut off halfway when the the young clone places a little bag from the box into the medic’s hand. With the helmet on, Pat can’t see his face. He would bet, though, that there is some amount of confusion on it.

“Don’t question it,” Pat tells him as he hands out a few of the little bags as well.

“…I’m too exhausted for this,” he mutters. “Thanks, Bit’ika.”

Bitty makes a face at the name but says, “You’re welcome.”

Zariza sends him a teasing grin as she says, “Aw, Bit’ika. That’s cute.”

The teen’s face darkens. “Shut up,” he says, but there’s no heat behind it and Pat catches a smile begin to form just as he turns his back to them.

Elvira rolls her eyes with her own smile. “Zari,” the zabrak sighs.

“What?”

The two best friends stare at each other. Elvira shakes her head. “You’re hopeless.”

Zariza’s face twisted into slight offense. “What the kriff did I do?”

“Hopeless,” she repeats.

They continue like that, and Pat listens and watches and smiles to themself. The mood of the atmosphere before they came in had been low and saddened and dull. Now? The atmosphere is brighter, and even a few of Pat’s vod’e are speaking and lightly laughing along with the teenagers.

Pat walks back over to the box of extra supplies that have to be used to rest his feet. Zariza comes over a few minutes later, box half empty, and sits down too. She hands them a bag and they take it.

“You wouldn’t happen to know why we are getting a gradual influx of supplies, do you?” asks Pat.

Zariza shakes her head. “Sorry, Pat. I can’t say that I do.”

They eye her. Runs her words through their head. Then, they let out a breathy chuckle. “Okay.” Lifting the little goodie bag, they shake it a little, listening to the small candies and hand held game clacking together.

“I do know that a few members of the Council are speaking with Senator Amidala to find a way to get you more supplies – not just for medical,” she tells him. “It might take a while, but… We’re trying.”

Pat feels like crying again. They really need some sleep. They’ve been up for 48 hours straight.

“Thank you,” they say sincerely and meaningfully. “I think you’re saving more of my siblings than you realize – even with these little bags.”

“A little kindness goes a long way,” she says.

They look at her again, curious. “Is that a Jedi saying?”

“No,” she says, then corrects herself, “Well, maybe, in a way. But my mom always told me that when I was really little. We… I was born into slavery, so there wasn’t a lot of kindness to begin with, and so we did our best to be kind to each other.”

“Thank the universe for your mom,” Pat hums.

A comfortable silence falls over them. It doesn’t last long, because a conversation they had with Fox pops into their head. A question is burning at the tip of their tongue, and he just has to know the answer.

“So, is the rumor that you might have a crush on Bitty true?”

Her head whips around to look at them so fast, they immediately become concerned for her neck. “There’s a what about what?!”

Pat busts out laughing.

[jimmythejiver]

To the last reblog I made that I won't derail further, but I've really held my tongue too long to not start fights on: The fact that my dashboard was full of 'if you don't burn or dump your old Harry Potter books and merch and stop making or consuming the fanworks yesterday, you're a transphobic asshole promoting her work and genocide.' Okay done. Trashed them and don't click the tags on AO3 or search it out anymore. You gonna stop consuming and making Scott Cawthon shit you anti-immigrant homophobes? Or you gonna willingly swallow the lie that he 'stepped away' when every evidence shows he hasn't and if you believe he won't still give his residuals as a creator to racist, homophobic candidates who yes are also transphobic mind you, then I've a bridge to sell you. It is mind boggling to me that fandumb thinks being a good person means 'don't consume transphobic content' but never apply the same to other bigotry except to harass small marginalized creators who didn't do representation correctly. Yet Scott Cawthon is exempt and can keep doing whatever the hell he wants forever because MatPat used statistics and graphs to say it wasn't anti-immigration, but 'safe borders' as if that isn't the same fucking thing with dogwhistling repubs. Fuck you MatPat and your money train. Even if the Fnaf fandom thinks you're cringe and think they're not like other Fnaf content creators and dissociated with you, you basically gave the go ahead that this was okay when all this shit initially came out and I've been sitting on my 'petty grievances' forever because I didn't want to be the troll bringing up old wounds that the fandom collectively decided was resolved, but it fucking isn't and I predict with the movie coming out with the creator's name all over it that we're going to have another J.K. Rowling debate for too many years on his intentions before it's too late, but hey that's just a theory, no? Surely this has never happened before with the likes of Orson Scott Card, right?

[whumpinggrounds]

Hello, my name is Alexandria or Dria for short. Your post about writing characters who use wheelchairs was really helpful my friend and I are creating a comic and one of our main characters is an immortal character who was a hero before a spinal injury (c5 vertebrae) and became paralyzed from the neck down and left the hero-ing world. A group of rookie heroes goes to him for help when the same villain who injured him resurfaces years later. He ends up agreeing to tell them everything he knows and helping them as much as he can and it's a found family thing. If you know anyone else who would have good advice it would be great if I could reach out. Do you have any more tips? It's a comic so if you have anything that you think I should include that would be really appreciated. Thank you and I look forward to hearing back from you.

Hi Dria! Thanks for stopping by. Your comic sounds really cool, and I hope you and your friend have fun writing it!

Without knowing more about your story, I don't have a lot of specific tips besides what you've likely already read in the post - make sure the wheelchair you're drawing is appropriate for your character's needs and abilities is the main one that comes to mind. Not to self-promote, but you may also want to look at my post about overused disability tropes.

In terms of more general themes - reading your synopsis, I'm wondering why the hero leaves following his injury. Is it because he doesn't feel he can succeed as a hero anymore, and if so, why not? Is that reinforced by the story? By those around him? If it's for other personal reasons, how does that interact with his disability and the way his life has changed? How has he adapted to his disability in the time since his injury?

I don't want to tell you what to write or what not to write - I have no authority to do that, and I wouldn't do it if I did! What you've written here makes me wonder if the storyline is that he gets injured, is no longer able to be a hero, and then when a group of (I'm assuming nondisabled, but I could be wrong) young heroes shows up, he acts as a mentor because he can't contribute in other ways. In this case, I would say to maybe try to subvert the narrative of tragic disability that derails a life. It's not necessarily inaccurate, but it's also so, so important to recognize and celebrate disabled joy, disabled success, and disabled people with a quality of life and life enjoyment that is just as high as before they were disabled.

As for resources - @cripplecharacters is a great resource for writing disabled characters! The extensive and experienced team of mods answers specific questions, and the blog posts writing disability resources from other blogs on Tumblr as well. Make sure you read the FAQ before sending an ask - they want specific questions, not really a "how to write x" vibe.

The last thing I'll say is I highly recommend searching "writing disabled characters" "disability writing resources" "writing wheelchair users" and key terms like that. I do not recommend just using the tags "wheelchair user" or "actually disabled" or anything like that. Please do not use people's actual life experiences as writing advice if they have not explicitly offered that. Do not ask disabled people for writing advice if they have not explicitly offered to give people writing advice.

The above is not specifically directed at you - I've seen some posts lately from people that are really frustrated with their vent/personal posts being used as writing references, and I wanted to mention how inappropriate that is in case people hadn't heard or thought about it. Anyway - that's all I can think of! If you have any more questions, feel free to come back, and good luck with your comic! Happy writing (and drawing)!

[lowkeyclueless5137]

Twst X P5 au, but make it next gen

:3

Let's get this show Rollin! Y'all know what you signed up for from the title!

Today... We will cover only the Prologue, without any other hints of who may be the first palace...

A few notes from me:

-Riddle is again the wildcard(like in PTTW)

-This takes place far into the future, when already the P5 gang are adults with working jobs and families. It also takes place in the P5 universe(modern day Tokyo)

-Some twst boys are children of the thieves, some are not.

-This will NOT follow the Royal version, nor the Scramble one. Only the pure, classic P5 game.

-there will be ships in between the og p5 gang... I will not make them the main thing, but I warn just in case. If you don't like them, they won't be that present... You do you, buddy. :3

-This au WILL play into the same genre as the P5 game... So expect some more mature themes... (I will try my best to tag appropriately and section those parts)

Now onto the cut, cuz this one is not really that long. :'3

Starting off with the premise: Riddle was a boy from UK, his father being Japanese, while his mother was British. Both were great doctors, expectation having for Riddle to follow the same carrier.

Being quite sheltered, Riddle was thankfully given to at least a private school. Yet there, everything went south since not only he was considered to be wierd, his kettle like temper got him to not integrate so well. And of course Riddle realised it too late to fix anything.

Unlike his mother, his father was a more open minded man. So he had a few times where he took his son of to Japan, to explore and see other places than the familiar ones. As in a domino effect, that meant Riddle became fluent in both Japanese and English because of his childhood influences. There he happened to meet Che'nya and Trey. So whenever a trip to Japan occurred with his father... The 3 would be extremely happy to see each other. They also tried their best to keep in contact, despite the timeszones and Riddle's mom being extremely strict.

But as he was supposed to start high-school, suddenly both of his parents decided to send him to Tokyo, to attend Shujin academy. What raised more questions was when he was told he will stay at a friend of his father. Usually his parents would be far more strict about this... So leaving him off the hook so easily was bewildering. Of course he had to journal and call them every night before bed... But still! With all that paperwork and grades switchup... Shujin started on 10th of April.

When the big day came... Riddle was trying extremely hard to not show what he was way too excited for this. It was his chance to be free. To turn over a new leaf and start again from 0, but this time he would make it right! He would make friends and have fun times!

He was given an address and off he was to Tokyo! :D

While it took a bit of time, asking for directions and navigating through the alleys, Riddle finally found his destination: LeBlanc!

The LeBlanc was the same as ever... Both on the outside and inside. With the small addition that the button phone wasn't anymore on the counter. Behind the bar, a woman with long hair was talking with a blonde woman that looked quite fashionable. Noticing the poor clueless Riddle, the 2 immediately realized who he was.

The ginger woman presents herself as Futaba Kitagawa, the owner of this place. The other one was Ann Takamaki, a friend of hers. It was a short round of introductions, before Futaba tells Riddle that his room would be upstairs.

While the redhead does get up on the stairs, he doesn't fail to hear Ann mentioning how 'He' had the same room before. Futaba replies that back at her residence, she couldn't possibly have poor Riddle share a room with one of her 'spawns'. And from that the conversation derails to things Riddle doesn't know and would rather not pry into.

The attic was quite tidy. No dust in sight, showing signs that it was still used like a common room from time to time. So first on the list was unpacking, which in all honesty, took all of the rest of the day, leaving Riddle to go to sleep, after Futaba checked up on him one last time.

Tomorrow they will have to go to school and have the proper paperwork signed for it.

That night, Riddle couldn't really sleep that well. Sure, he made the call to his parents, like he was told to, but he noticed something wierd after that.

An app... One he doesn't remember ever installing. He did check his phone several times before leaving UK and knew very well that he had no such app before. But he couldn't delete it. Maybe his mother put it in there for him, so deleting it surely would get him in trouble. It looked wierd on top of that.

But staring too much at it, made him sleepy. Maybe the emotions regarding his new start was what kept him from getting some shut eye after all...

Unfortunately for Riddle, he woke up on a velvety seat from a theatre. He tried to get up, but he was tied up with ribbons and strings, that immediately tightened once sensing his desire of getting up. That panic of being trapped only made Riddle to look around and that's when he realised.

In front of the stage, a desk was placed, at which a man with a long nose was staying, introducing himself as Igor. Next to him, a boy with silver hair and golden eyes stood like a guard, holding a book. Igor introduced him as Silver, the attendant of the Velvet room. The only details that were given to Riddle was that this 'velvet room' existed 'in-between dream and reality' and that those who have forged a contract can access it, so Riddle tried his best to remember when he signed a contract, but nothing came up.

Silver explains that they will collaborate together towards making the best improvisation act, showcasing the 'downfall of injustice and ruin'. But that can only be achieved if Riddle played it in real life, as he is a 'puppet of fate'.

With that and the ominous 'we are looking forward to our next meeting', Riddle was left to wake up to the real world, with the confusion of the century. Maybe it was because of the jetlag? He didn't really question it more and decided to get ready for the day.

Getting down, Futaba prepared some curry, but there were 3 plates, one from which a boy was already eating from and another, from which a man was eating. Futaba did the intros this time too.

The man was Yusuke, or as she nicknamed him: Inari. He was her husband and an artist, more specifically a painter. The other boy was Ortho, her younger son, a first year at Shujin. This reminded Riddle that actually he was a second year.

Riddle did assume ortho didn't notice him, as he had those headphones over his ears, but he was surprised when Ortho did greet him happily, noting how Riddle was from around Tokyo. The redhead corrected that actually he was from the UK, which made Ortho to point out that this was not what his accent and tone implied.

After a more quiet eating session, Yusuke had the job of going over the papers, so he will go with the 2 to Shujin for those. In addition to that... They had to take the train route, as the traffic sure made it way harder.

On the way there... Yusuke mentioned how his close friends and even Futaba attended Shujin. He hopes the 2 would integrate in the colective as surely there were no more problems like those at the time he attended school.

Ortho happily mentioned how his big brother actually attended Shujin too, but usually he would go in before classes to work on a project he hopes on presenting for an application at college. Ortho mentioned how his brother worked since last year on it, almost losing permission of continuing it on the school grounds if he didn't reveal it to the teachers, much to his dismay. Yusuke added that he eagerly waits for the time his older son would present to everyone his creation.

With all that chatter, the 3 reach Shujin. Yusuke notes how it didn't quite change at all aesthetically speaking. The same bushes, the same gates, the same building front, the same halls. What indeed changed were the posters, the announcements on the buletin board and the ones roaming around the halls of the building.

The principal was nice, Riddle would say decent after the speech mannerisms, but in the end, they got introduced to the teachers: Mrs Kawakami, who was taking ortho in her last class before retirement, and Mr Vanrouge, who already had a class with an opening due to an 'unfortunate accident' to one of his students. He seemed like he did not want to elaborate and nor did the other teachers.

And that sure was handled quickly, both of them getting their students IDs and being expected tomorrow to attend classes properly.

So returning to LeBlanc, Futaba greets them, saying that they just missed the older Kitagawa boy or as she nicknames him: Firehead. Riddle asked Ortho in a whisper about it, to which Ortho replies that his brother usually is a hothead when it comes to video-games.

And so, another day passes.

The big school day came and Riddle sure as heck was awake really early. He was used to waking up early, not because he had a nightmare he can't remember anymore, no sir, defenetly not... :'3

So getting down from the attic, he did not expect Yusuke around. It seems like Futaba left for them something to pick from the fridge and Yusuke was running late to his workshop, so he just greeted Riddle and ran off.

The next to come was Futaba and Ortho. Futaba of course looked through the fridge and noticed that there were 3 lunch packs instead of the 2 meant for ortho and Riddle. Ortho offered for him and Riddle to get the lunch to his brother, even if that meant going in more earlier than usually.

So off they were! Except that it so happened for the 2 to catch up with some spring rain. So because none of them wanted to get a long shower and nor did they have any umbrellas on them (Futaba did warn them to take one, but ortho's rush got them to forget), the 2 got in the front of a flowershop, which had a small tent like roof that shielded them from the rain.

Riddle pulled out his phone, looking on the map for the shortest route they could take. That's when someone else came next to them to shield from the rain.

It was an average height boy with rosy cheeks, pale skin, big eyes and short black hair. That's when Riddle noticed, that unlike him, Ortho's hair looked extremely fluffy, in it residing some blue streaks of dye. The newcomer frowned upon seeing ortho, but smiled as he saw Riddle, asking if the 2 were from Shujin too. Riddle says yes, but before they can get any conversation on the table, a group of students with umbrellas see them and invite 'Neige' under their umbrellas and maybe go to and hang out somewhere before classes.

The supposed Neige asks if it's ok for Ortho and Riddle to join too, but Ortho cuts it off that they really are hurrying somewhere, despite being 1 hour before the students usually arrive at school. Before anyone can cut him off, Ortho drags Riddle away in a hurry, thankfully, the rain seemingly starting to disappear.

Riddle asks what was that, Ortho replying by telling him that his brother warned him last night. The warning was: 'whatever you do, don't mingle with Neige...'. Riddle initially assumed Neige was a delinquent of some sorts, but he didn't look like that.

Ortho starts to explain that apparently, his brother told him that Neige was 'the prince' of the school. He was a raising star in acting and always had the first impression of a prince charming straight out of fairytales. Mockingly, Ortho compared Shujin as 'Neige's fairytale palace'. Riddle still holded his argument that the guy seemed nice, to which Ortho retorted with 'I trust my brother more than some apparences.'.

He was kind of right after all, so Riddle gave Neige the benefit of doubt for now.

Until they realised that Riddle still had his phone in his hand. He put it in his pocket as the 2 hurried on an alleyway.

And that's when a headache got over the 2. They brushed off, because they realised where exactly they stood.

Where Shujin was supposed to be... Now it was a castle made out of precious glass and jewels, with beautiful smelling flowers, as if it was straight out of a fairytale, where the prince brings the princess after defeating the evil foe.

The 2 checked their way, knowing damn well that it was the exact same way they went on yesterday with Yusuke. So why instead of Shujin now it was well... That...

So of course the 2 are very much confused, but nonetheless, Riddle insist to head in and ask about this, while Ortho just knows this will end up with either this being a big prank, both of them having a comune hallucination or both of them ending up dead in dungeons/kicked out for witchcraft(their modern looking clothes), like any kind of medieval themed movie preaches.

And here is where we are stopping for the story. :'3

Ofc there are a few parallels to the og P5 storyline... And that is my point... :3

That is it for the intro! Next time... We tackle the first part of the palace!

If you have theories, questions or anything else to talk about, you are always welcome to the asking corner :3

Until next time! Buh bye!