#i am dealing with the same thing you are it seems (the hell shot)

[zmbiesoph]

TENSION

CARL GRIMES X FEM!READER

𝜗𝜚 A/N - hope you like it!

𝜗𝜚 SUMMARY - you and Carl have always despised each other, but what happens when the tension builds up?

𝜗𝜚 WARNINGS - none

The world had ended, but that didn’t mean the fighting stopped. If anything, it only made people more desperate—more determined to prove they could still win at something. That was especially true for you and Carl Grimes.

You were Daryl Dixon’s daughter, which meant two things: you were tough as hell, and you never backed down from a challenge. You and Carl had been butting heads since the day you met. Whether it was hunting, scouting, or taking down walkers, everything turned into a competition. Who could shoot better? Who could track faster? Who could take down the most walkers without missing a shot?

Carl was stubborn, and so were you. To everyone else, it was just typical teenage rivalry—something to roll their eyes at while they focused on surviving another day. But to Carl, it was something else. He just didn’t want to admit it.

The truth was, the more he got to know you, the more he realized that underneath all the teasing and arguing, he actually liked you. Maybe even more than liked you. But admitting that? Not a chance.

So instead, he kept pushing you away. Picking fights. Making everything a contest. That was easier than dealing with the way his heart raced whenever you smiled—or the way your eyes burned with determination every time you aimed your crossbow, just like your father.

But then, one day in the forest, everything changed.

Carl tightened his grip on his gun as he spotted a figure through the trees. His heart skipped a beat when he recognized the familiar stance, the weapon slung over your shoulder, the way you carried yourself like you had nothing to prove���even though you always acted like you did.

Carl sighed, rolling his eyes. “What are you doing here now?”

You turned, arching a brow as you adjusted the crossbow strap on your shoulder. The sunlight filtering through the trees caught the streaks of dirt on your face, but it did nothing to dim the fire in your eyes. The same fire you always had when you looked at him.

“I could ask you the same thing, Grimes,” you shot back, shifting your weight onto one leg. “Didn’t know this part of the woods belonged to you.”

Carl scoffed, tightening his grip on his pistol. “It doesn’t. But you always seem to show up where I am. Starting to think you’re following me.”

You let out a short laugh, shaking your head. “Right. Because I have nothing better to do than chase after your sorry ass.”

The tension between you crackled like the dry leaves underfoot. It was always like this—sharp words, narrowed eyes, a constant back-and-forth that neither of you were willing to back down from. You both knew it wasn’t just about survival anymore. It was about winning. About proving something.

But what, exactly, were you trying to prove?

Carl exhaled through his nose, glancing at the trees around you. He didn’t like you being out here alone, even if you were more than capable of handling yourself. Not that he’d ever say it out loud. Instead, he nodded toward your crossbow.

“You see anything?”

“Couple walkers,” you said with a shrug, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face. “Took ‘em down easy. What about you?”

“Same.”

Silence settled between you, heavy but not uncomfortable. It was rare—moments like this. Moments where the competition faded, if only for a second. Carl studied you, the way the wind played with your hair, the way your fingers lightly traced the worn leather of your crossbow strap. You were tough. Strong. Maybe stronger than him in some ways.

And that scared the hell out of him.

Because the more time he spent with you, the harder it became to ignore the truth he didn’t want to face. He wasn’t just competing with you anymore.

He was falling for you.

And he was losing that battle.

Carl clenched his jaw, forcing himself to look away before his thoughts betrayed him. You were just standing there, the afternoon sun hitting your face in a way that made his stomach twist. It wasn’t fair. You weren’t supposed to get to him like this.

He cleared his throat. “You shouldn’t be out here alone.”

You scoffed. “I can handle myself, Grimes.”

“Yeah, I know you think that,” he shot back, stepping closer. His voice was sharp, but there was an edge to it—something unspoken simmering beneath the surface. “But what if you ran into more than you could take?”

You tilted your head, your eyes flickering with something unreadable. “What if you did?”

Carl took another step, now close enough that you could feel the heat rolling off him. “I wouldn’t,” he said, low and certain.

Your pulse quickened, but you refused to back down. You refused to be the first one to break. “Cocky much?”

“Confident,” he corrected, his lips twitching into a smirk. “You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?”

You swallowed hard, refusing to let your eyes drop from his. The space between you was almost nonexistent now, and suddenly, it wasn’t just about winning anymore. The teasing had shifted into something else—something heavier.

Carl’s gaze dropped to your lips for a fraction of a second before snapping back up. He was breathing a little harder now, his hands flexing at his sides like he was fighting some internal battle.

You smirked. “Something wrong, Grimes?”

His nostrils flared. “You’re really asking for it, aren’t you?”

Your heart pounded as you took one more step, your chest nearly brushing his. “And what if I am?”

Carl inhaled sharply, his whole body tensing like a wire pulled too tight. You could see the war playing out behind his stormy blue eyes—the push and pull, the struggle between pride and something far more dangerous.

Then, before you could react, he was right there.

His fingers grazed your jaw, rough and hesitant, like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to grab you or push you away. His breath was warm against your face, his lips hovering so close that if either of you moved even an inch—

A twig snapped somewhere behind you.

Both of you jerked apart instantly, hands on weapons, bodies still burning with the heat of whatever the hell had just happened.

Your pulse pounded in your ears as you locked eyes with Carl, the moment shattered but the tension still thick between you.

“We should get back,” he muttered, voice gruff. But his eyes said something else. Something unfinished.

You nodded, adjusting your crossbow, but you didn’t miss the way his gaze lingered on you for just a second longer than necessary.

This wasn’t over. Not even close.

The walk back was supposed to be uneventful. It should have been simple—just head to the prison, keep their distance, and ignore whatever the hell that moment in the woods had been.

But, of course, nothing ever went that smoothly.

The first growl came from their left. Then another from behind. Carl’s stomach dropped as he turned, eyes scanning the trees.

“Shit,” you muttered, loading your crossbow in one fluid motion.

Walkers. More than a few. Too many to take on without making noise, and making noise meant attracting even more.

“We need to move,” Carl said, already backing up.

You cursed under your breath, taking down the closest one with a quick shot. The bolt went clean through its skull, but it didn’t matter—more were closing in fast.

“Go!” Carl shouted, grabbing your wrist and yanking you into a sprint.

Branches whipped at your faces as you tore through the woods, the sound of the dead dragging after you, moaning louder, closer. Carl's heart slammed in his chest. There had to be somewhere to go—somewhere to hide—

“There!” You pointed ahead. A small, half-collapsed cabin sat just beyond the trees, its windows broken, door hanging slightly off its hinges.

Neither of you hesitated. You reached the door first, shoving it open and tumbling inside just as Carl slammed it shut behind you, barricading it with a broken chair.

For a few seconds, the only sound was your ragged breathing and the distant growls outside.

Then you turned on him. “This is your fault.”

Carl let out a short, incredulous laugh. “My fault?”

“Yes, your fault! If you hadn’t been so busy distracting me back there—”

“Distracting you?” Carl took a step closer, eyes flashing. “You’re the one who kept pushing—”

“Oh, please.” You shoved his shoulder, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make your point. “You were the one who couldn’t keep your damn eyes off me!”

Carl grabbed your wrist before you could shove him again, and suddenly, the fight wasn’t about the walkers outside anymore. The air between you was thick, charged with something electric and dangerous.

His grip tightened just slightly. “Maybe if you weren’t so damn stubborn—”

“Maybe if you weren’t so damn blind—”

Silence. Your breaths came fast, your chest rising and falling against his. His fingers were still wrapped around your wrist, his body just inches from yours. The heat between you was suffocating, and neither of you moved to stop it.

Carl’s eyes flicked down to your lips.

And just like that, the tension snapped.

His mouth crashed onto yours, all frustration and heat and weeks—months—of built-up tension finally breaking loose. You barely had time to process it before you were kissing him back just as fiercely, your hands tangling in his shirt, pulling him closer.

Carl groaned against your lips, pressing you back against the nearest wall, his hands sliding to your waist like he couldn’t stand the space between you. The fight was forgotten, lost in the rush of the moment, in the way his lips moved hungrily against yours, in the way neither of you wanted to stop.

The moans of the walkers outside faded into white noise. For the first time in a long time, survival wasn’t the only thing on your mind.

Carl pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his breath warm and uneven. His grip on your waist was still firm, like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go.

“I hate you,” you whispered, though there was no real venom behind it.

Carl smirked, his thumb brushing against your hip. “Yeah?” His lips ghosted over yours, teasing. “Could’ve fooled me.”

And then he kissed you again, and this time, neither of you pulled away.

Hey guys got bored and wrote this, actually kinda currently hating my writing

@hiro--aoki @acid9786 @carlsangel @bethberry

[ghoulangerlee]

Ohhhhh my god I feel you on this whole bc shot thing. I've been on it for a little over two years because I'm trans and getting my period was so bad for my emotional wellbeing I had to do something. I didn't wand an IUD, and I forget to take my medication a lot so the pill wasn't ideal. I was told by two different obgyns that they wouldn't consider removing the uterus becsuse at the time I was only 21 and ""What if you chsnge your mind!!!"" 🙄🙄🙄🙄 so I really dint have a whole lot of options.

On one hand I like not having to worry about the whole thing for 10/11 weeks at a time but on the other hand I also really like not having feeble bones! I've been taking calcium supplements but the pills are huge and I worry it isn't covering the issue entirely. I don't get enough calcium to begin with becsuse I can't drink milk and stuff, so I worry that it's a bandage on a knife wound so to speak.

Last time I was at the clinic for my shot I raised the issue again and the doctor there was like "wait you're literally trans and have no plans for children why the hell don't we just get rid of it????" And I'm just sitting there like why the fuck did the last two people I see not give me this option!?

Anyways I need to discuss the idea more with her but oh oh to get this fucking thing out of me....oh to dream....

Sorry rambling in your asks but this sucks and I sure hope we both get the cool fun and fresh resolution :)

oh my god anon, i feel you. i've been on it for...almost 5 years now? I think around August 2019 is when I started it finally. It was unfortunately the only option we could find for me. I actually can't have any bc that has actual estrogen in it because of my high blood pressure and the family history of blood clots. And like, at first it was fine and dandy! I was okay with it because after 7 weeks of a heavy cycle I was so exhausted and just ready for it to be over. And it's been gone! pretty regularly for the last several years.

Sometimes if I'm incredibly stressed it will sneak up on me but it's like, leagues better than it was. Max 3 days and barely anything at all. So, very manageable for someone who y'know. had it much worse (to the point it would cause my iron to drop significantly all the time).

I hate obgyns who refuse to do things because "you might regret it later on" like, no actually I think I'll regret having this thing inside my body I don't intend to use and having to stay on the shot for the rest of my life. I'm in a same-sex relationship, I don't ever intend to physically carry a child, I just want the thing gone lmao. I've told obgyns that in the past and yet they still insisted on telling me that I might "regret" it.

So, my surgeon did mention that viactiv is a good supplement, which is apparently a chocolate calcium chew haha. My biggest concern is that I have osteoarthritis and being over 30 now, my bone density doesn't come back as fast as it does for someone in their 20s. My doctor is also concerned about it too. I mean like also the weight gain is terrible too, like holy shit it's been the worst (strong ass bc, strong ass side effects I GUESS)

THOUGH APPARENTLY there is a bone density therapy that they can do which will help with keeping your bones strong. I didn't know about it and no one ever thought to mention it to me when they started talking about my bone density lmao. Normal Calcium supplements make me extremely nauseous and I can't take them, so I just stopped lmao.

And I think from there, that's when I sort of decided I wanted to look into getting rid of my uterus for good. Like, I don't plan to have kids, I don't need it. Why should I continue this shot, why should I keep putting myself through this.

Also, idk if you've experienced it, or if its just because I been on it for so long or if it's something else entirely, but in place of the period I just get cramps :) really bad ones :) it's great and what I've always wanted from bc haha.

honestly that's a good doctor, why haven't they suggested it sooner? Literally the surgeon I'm seeing is, ironically, the first obgyn I saw when I switched insurances and go to where I go now, and from the beginning she was like "you're in a monogamous same-sex relationship whenever you want the surgery we can just take care of that" and idk I wasn't in the right place then, I think, to consider it.

yeah it's a long process from my understanding, we're building a case right now, as my surgeon called it, gonna have some imaging stuff done, a few more tests and then we'll set the date and just. remove it. thankfully, no early menopause for me (ironically the One Thing i was most worried about?? I don't know, I've got so much going on, I didn't want to even consider dealing with menopause bc guess what the treatment for that is-- the same damn shot I'm trying to escape lmao) ANON!!! I wish the best for both of us!!! Let me know how things go!! (if you're comfortable!!)

[forzarma]

Between the lines

Lando Norris x Law student!reader

A/N: ok amma just act like i didn’t ghost this app for months and came out if nowhere but here we are ig. Also the Brazilian gp??? What the heck like wild race istg😭

It all started one night in Monaco, on a break from law school. You were on vacation with a friend, celebrating the rare freedom that came with a brief pause in your intense study schedule. A night at the casino was not usually your scene, but your friend had insisted.

After about an hour, she’d struck up a flirtatious conversation with some guy who’d been lingering by the bar. You waved her off, telling her you’d be fine, and took a seat on your own near a roulette table.

That’s when he walked up. Unassuming at first, with that messy hair and a slightly cocky smile that had “trouble” written all over it.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked, a hint of an accent in his voice.

You shrugged, amused. “Go for it. But I’m not particularly good at this.”

He chuckled. “Neither am I.”

You exchanged a few more jokes, but it didn’t take long for him to introduce himself, giving you his number in a smooth, unhurried way.

“Lando,” he said, his eyes glinting with mischief.

You stashed the number away without much thought. It was only the next day, when you mentioned the encounter to your little sister over FaceTime, that you realized who he actually was.

“Some guy named Lando gave me his number at the casino,” you’d said offhandedly. Her jaw dropped.

“Wait, Lando who??.”

You blinked, stunned, and then laughed. “I don’t know, apparently he’s famous”

“so it’s lando fucking norris what” she said wide eyed

She rolled her eyes, muttering, “Only my sister would be this oblivious to F1 drivers. I’ve been a die-hard fan since I was, like, ten, and you meet one without even knowing?”

From there, you let yourself get to know him, intrigued by how normal he seemed compared to the hype you’d suddenly realized surrounded him. When he asked you out, you thought, why not? You were used to focusing on your studies and keeping your personal life private, so it didn’t seem like much would change. But with Lando, everything was different.

-

Months later, you’d fallen into an unexpected but steady rhythm with Lando. Despite his career, he managed to keep things low-key. Neither of you posted much about each other. Hell, you barely posted anything at all. You were still a law student with a private life, and the last thing you wanted was for the whole world to know who you were dating.

One evening, you were lying on his couch, scrolling through your phone, when Lando turned to you with a sly grin.

“Babe, you know… you’re eventually gonna get caught, right? Someone’s going to snap a picture of us, and then the cat’s out of the bag,” he teased, nudging your leg with his.

You groaned, rolling your eyes. “Oh, sure, because every random person with a camera is just dying to know who you’re dating.”

He snickered, leaning in closer. “Maybe. But you know, it could be kinda nice… to go out sometimes. Like, properly. We don’t have to make a big deal of it.”

You hesitated, biting your lip. As much as you loved being with him, the idea of being recognized—or worse, photographed—made you cringe. Your accounts were private, your life simple, and you weren’t sure how you’d feel about people seeing you with him.

But, at the same time, you knew it wasn’t fair to keep him hidden away forever. So, you took a deep breath and gave him a small smile. “What if we make a deal?”

His eyebrows shot up in interest. “I’m listening.”

“You can have me at the paddock,” you said, already dreading the idea. “But my accounts stay private, no tags, no ‘girlfriend reveals’ on Instagram. I’ll show up, I’ll be there for you but I’m not trying to become some celebrity.”

He grinned, leaning in to kiss you softly. “Deal. Although I can’t promise you won’t end up in a couple of team photos. You know how they love to catch every damn moment.”

You chuckled, trying not to think too hard about what you were signing up for.

-

A couple of weeks later, you were lying in bed with Lando, scrolling mindlessly through Instagram, when you felt a pang of guilt.

“I never actually told you about my sister,” you said suddenly.

“Oh?” He looked over at you with interest.

“Yeah, she’s been obsessed with F1 since she was like, ten,” you explained, laughing softly. “She’s begged me to take her to a race for years, but I was always too busy with school. Now she’s a full-on Ferrari fan… and she’s probably never going to forgive me for dating you.”

He grinned, intrigued. “A Ferrari fan, huh? That’s rough. Maybe I can convince her to switch sides.”

You snorted. “Good luck. She’s already sworn allegiance to Sebastian Vettel. In her words, McLaren’s colors are ‘an offense to her soul.’”

Lando laughed, shaking his head. “Well, in that case, we’ll have to win her over somehow. Why don’t we bring her to a race? I’ll make sure she gets the best seats, full experience,

You raised an eyebrow, surprised. “She’d lose her mind. Seriously. Are you sure? Because I can tell you right now, she’d never root for McLaren.

“Absolutely,” he said, squeezing your hand. “If she’s as big a fan as you say, she deserves a proper race weekend. Plus, I think it’s time we officially break her ‘Ferrari-only’ heart.”

-

On race day, you and Lando arrived at the paddock, and immediately, heads turned. You’d chosen a classic, chic outfit and despite your initial nerves, you managed to keep your cool.

You spotted your sister down the row, and her jaw dropped as soon as she saw you. She approached, barely able to contain her excitement, though she shot a mock glare at Lando.

“Such a shame I don’t like McLaren,” she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

“Yeah, yeah,” he replied with a grin. “You just wait. One lap, and you’ll be a fan.”

She rolled her eyes, but you could tell she was thrilled, practically bouncing on her heels as she looked around at the spectacle. She turned to you, eyes wide with disbelief. “You’re really here… at a race. I don’t know whether to thank you or disown you.”

You laughed, nudging her playfully. “I’m still not a fan, if that helps.”

She huffed, pretending to be offended. “I guess I’ll forgive you. But only if you bring me every single time from now on.”

The rest of the day passed in a blur of cameras, fans, and the hum of engines. You couldn’t deny the rush of excitement that came with being part of the chaos, even if it meant being in the public eye. And when you saw your sister’s face, completely lit up as she took in every second, it felt worth it.

-

The relationship slowly became public, just as you and Lando had agreed. You kept your accounts locked down, but fans began to recognize you, and a few photos of you two at the paddock circulated on social media.

Your sister stayed true to her Ferrari fandom, texting you regularly to tease you about your “betrayal.” But every now and then, you’d catch her slipping in a comment about McLaren usually something along the lines of, “Okay, that car looks pretty badass.”

One evening, Lando turned to you with a satisfied grin. “I think we’re doing alright, don’t you think?”

You looked around the Monaco apartment you’d somehow started calling “home” without even realizing it, at the life you’d built together. You leaned over, giving him a soft kiss. “Yeah, I think so, too.”

In the end, you realized you didn’t need to post, announce, or shout your relationship from the rooftops. Being there for each other was enough, even if it meant sharing some of the spotlight.

After all, Lando may have been the one the world wanted to see, but you were his, and that was more than enough.

[cryptidghostgirl]

Hey so uhh, it said requests are open so I'm gonna shoot my shot ig. I have this fic idea but I'm a shit writer so here it goes.

Alastor x reader but the concept is that the reader is Alastor's shadow.

Now, hear me out: Alastor is said to be a powerful demon since his manifestation in hell, we know that it takes demons quite some time to accumulate their power before they become overlords.

If "The Radio demon" was an alias was that operated between more that one person, then it would make sense as to why and how he rose to the top very quickly (assuming we ignore the fact he made a deal with someone).

That and Alastor's black appendages and shadows seem out of theme for a demon who's primary power is based on Radio.

As for how they met, it could go two ways. Either with Alastor, a man hungry for power, strikes his first deal with Shadow!Reader to get them to do his bidding. Or Shadow!Reader offering Alastor their services after realizing that he has a lot of potential. Either way, their partnership blooms into a sort of kinship between the two of them.

Do with this concept whatever you want with it, I just wanna get this concept out in the world in the hands of someone much more capable of writing than I am.

Enjoy!

A/N please always shoot your shot. this is such a fun idea,, thank you so much for entrusting it to me. I've decided just to write their meeting for now but may continue it later on. I hope you like it!!

The Thing (Alastor x Gn!Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: Mention of cannibalism and the Donner party. I think that is it.

Word Count: 1,752

Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List

Click here and leave a comment if you want to be added to any taglists or send me an ask about it.

There was a secret, one that no one knew, one that would tear the demon realm apart at its edges if anyone found out. The illusive Radio Demon and his shadow were, in fact, just that: the illusive Radio Demon and his shadow.

Y/n was master of the immaterial, shifting forms and shedding skins the way others change their clothes. When Alastor arrived in Hell, they had long since been established as one of the many demons to be aware of.

Rumor runs rampant everywhere but especially in Hell where in controls, combines, and divides. Y/n was just that, a rumor. Never the same face twice, never in the same place twice. No one even knew their name, simply referring to them as the thing or the hunger. They snatched sinner's souls from their grasps and devoured them whole. An urban legend, a ghost story only here, all the ghosts were real.

Alastor was as observant in death as he had been in life, it didn't take him long to catch sight of the shadow. Though he had only been in Hell a few days when it had first appeared, he could tell it had nefarious intent.

The thing was a good actor, almost good enough to fool him. It lay in the reality of his own shadow, following his moves perfectly. However, no one is perfect and every once in a while, there would be a little slip. The first one which had caught Alastor's attention was when he had taken a step forward and it had gone the wrong way, quickly righting itself and following after the mistake.

Alastor pretended not to have noticed, but he remembered. He lay in wait for another such occurrence. It was not until two days later, when his shadow gave him four hands rather than two with no apparent explanation such as an odd angle to the sun or another body near him, that his thesis was confirmed. There was, in fact, something following him.

It stuck like glue to the heels of his shoes. Alastor was quiet, Alastor schemed. He had trapped it in a pure white room which he had fixed lightbulbs in from all sides. When he had turned on the lights, he had turned on them, arms crossed and foot tapping expectantly.

The shadow had looked this way and that, searching for a place to hide. When they realized it was no use, they had pulled themselves from the floor into three dimensions and faced him head on.

"Who are you?" Alastor had asked before quickly reevaluating his question, "What are you?"

It moved like liquid in the air, twisting and dissolving at its edges. Bubbles, or what was almost bubbles, what looked like bubbles, rose to the surface of it's body and as they popped, a demon began to take the shadow's place.

"I am everything."

They were many voiced. When they spoke, it sounded like a crowd of people saying the same thing in unison. Alastor stared at the demon, unamused. They were a full person now, about a head shorter than him and seemingly very calm considering he had them trapped. Then again, Alastor had only been in Hell a few weeks by this point, not nearly enough time to work up the sort of reputation he was hoping for.

"Is that a bad pickup line?" Alastor asked, "Am I supposed to ask what you mean and you'll say something like 'I could be everything to you?'"

The demon raised their eyebrows, shaking their head.

"It is the truth."

A tense silence fell between the pair. Alastor broke it with a sigh, rubbing his temples in irritation. He hadn't really known what to expect from this endeavor save an event to break up the monotony of his days. The demon was not delivering.

"Yeah, alright."

"Who are you?"

"You've been following me for what, two weeks? And you don't know?"

The demon shrugged.

"I was trying to be polite. It has been a while since I have spoken to anyone."

"Sure. Well," Alastor turned to the door, pulling a skeleton key from his pocket, "this has been interesting. Enjoy eternity alone in a well lit room."

Alastor opened the door. The demon made no move to follow him out of the room, no move to escape. They simply watched him in curiosity, their head tilted slightly to one side. Alastor hesitated, his body blocking the exit and his back towards them. He watched them over his shoulder as a thin black smoke seemed to emanate from the outline of their body.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

An empty threat, barley even a threat to be honest. Alastor stepped out of the room, closing the door firmly behind him. Once he was sure it was locked, he slipped the key back into his pocket. He made to leave, intending to go out on the town in a desperate attempt to find entertainment. Barley two steps forward, and shadows began to pool on the floor before his feet, blocking Alastor's path.

He watched in a mild interest as the demon pulled themselves from the shadows, taking on a different face than they had worn in the room. Now they were broader, taller, stronger. They looked mean.

"I told you."

"Is this what you meant when you said you were everything?"

The demon nodded once. Their wide eyes were unblinking, unchanging, as their form mutated again. A spider demon now with many arms and a lanky figure. Alastor raised his eyebrows.

"So, you let me catch you."

"I was bored. No one ever notices me until it is too late, except you."

"I find that hard to believe. You were easy to spot."

The demon's eyes widened slightly at this, something similar to surprise but halfway to fear.

"Like I said, Alastor the interesting." they mused after a moment.

Alastor bowed his head slightly in recognition of the title.

"I could take your soul, destroy you. Why were you so willing to risk all that? Surely a bit of entertainment can't be worth that much to you."

He was trying to get a gage on the creature, and he knew they could tell. It was a mild threat, one he couldn't follow through on even if he wanted to. Sure, he could maim the creature, cause it great pain, but beyond leaving them formless for a few days tops he was powerless. He knew that, but he didn't know if they did. Either way, the situation would play out to his advantage. It would either give him more information, or the upper hand.

They considered the situation for a moment before answering. Alastor couldn't figure out if it was because of their interest in him, for fear of him, or some third, other undefined motivation. No matter what it was, he didn't care. This was the most engaged he had felt in weeks.

"You aren't an overlord. You can't make a contract."

"And you are?"

"No."

"Too weak?" Alastor teased and the demon glared at him.

"Far from it. I don't like being seen."

"But you're letting me see you."

"I am allowing you to see a face. It is not mine."

Alastor fell silent. He had figured that the demon before him didn't have a true form, or if they did, that it was shadow. Things were becoming curiouser by the second. He was no longer regarding his attempts to trap the demon as a waste of time.

"So, you want power but anonymity. Those things don't go hand in hand."

"I know. You want fame and lack the power. Another unmatched set."

Alastor's ear twitched at that, displeasure running through his veins and clouding his sight. His hand tightened where he held his microphone.

"I have power enough."

"What use is a Radio Demon with nothing to broadcast?"

"Are you suggesting a deal?"

The demon smiled a smile that was too big for the face it wore. Alastor had to admit, they were unsettling. He understood the rumors.

"I've heard of your... reputation shall we say? But if you think I will trust someone who's face I have never even seen, you are dead wrong."

"Was that a joke?" the demon tentatively asked after a moment.

"Not on purpose but I supose so."

The thing seemed to roll the idea over in their mind as their form changed once again, this time becoming a demon with the body of a shark. They seemed not even to notice they were changing as their eyes flicked back to Alastor's.

"You want information. Then you will be open to the idea of a partnership."

"This was your goal all along, a partnership as you put it."

A statement, not a question. The demon smiled, their eyebrows slightly raised.

"Oh, was it now. At least I had an end goal to this little... situation."

Alastor scoffed, looking away. They were right. He had come up with no ideas past capturing the thing that had been following him. He was in the dark. They had everything figured out.

"Show me your real face. Then we can talk."

"Alastor Hartifelt. Died 1933. Louisiana famed radio host and serial killer cut down in his prime by a hunter who mistook him for a deer."

"Are you trying to intimidate me?"

"Not at all."

The demon shifted once again. It took them longer to find form this time, remaining as a black cloud for a few moments before at last settling on an almost human body. They were shorter than he had expected, smaller too and decked out in what seemed to be colonial dress. They held a hand out to him.

"Y/n L/n. Died 1846. Newly wed and member of the Donner party."

"Cannibalism." Alastor mused, gently taking their hand in his.

He had expected them to be cold, immaterial. He had expected his hand to slide right through theirs. Instead, the demon, Y/n, was warm and solid to the touch, just like anyone else. They smiled, mouth full of needles.

"We all take what we are given."

"I suppose."

Y/n dropped his hand and crossed their arms. Despite their stature, they radiated authority and poise. It was almost impressive.

"If you will be the face, I will be the force."

"No soul binding."

"I couldn't if I wanted to. Not an overlord."

Alastor looked them up and down. His smile grew.

"Not an overlord yet."

----

tags:

@willowshadenox @i-love-jafar @elfyeet @reader3 @lazygirlfanfic0-0

[winchester-24]

I am SO gonna need a part two to Sam choosing between reader and ruby. I loved it and I’m CRAVING angst. I can only imagine how you’d continue the story I KNOW it would be good

I'm so glad you loved it! The response to this specific fic has been mind-blowing to me as someone who just started posting, and I am super humbled by it! Thank you for your support <3

Imagine Sam having to choose between you and Ruby (Part 2)

Cold. If any hunter was asked about you, that is how they would describe you. When Bobby came and picked you up that day, he let you sit the entire ride home in silence. When you two reached his house, he popped a beer for you. When you went to take it, he held it back and demanded,

“Sit.” You sighed and sat at his kitchen table, drank the beer he offered, and told him everything. He comforted you Bobby-style, meaning he told you it would be alright and the two of you would figure it out. You finished your beer, thanked him, and asked if there was any car he didn’t care to part with. While he had none running, he permitted you to fix any of them.

It took you a month to fix up a car. Everything you knew about cars you learned between Dean and Bobby. It was nothing fancy, but it would get the job done. Every morning, Bobby would make you eat breakfast, and every night, when you came in, Bobby would make you eat dinner. You would then shower, sleep, and repeat. It was like you were a zombie. When the car was completely ready, you packed your things, left Bobby a note thanking him and saying that you would call, and left.

During your month there, your phone would begin to ring non-stop. Calling, text message, voicemail. Sam was using any way you could communicate on the phone. In the beginning, you would listen to the voicemails.

“Hey, baby, it's me—again. Please pick it up and at least let me know you are safe. We can talk about this. I love you.”

“I know you’re mad- you have every right to be. I was selfish and stupid, thinking about what was best for us without consulting you. It was dumb, and I took full responsibility. Please call me. I miss you so much; I love you.”

Every voicemail sounded like that, but the contact became less frequent. Instead of all day, it was in the morning and at night. Then it turned into just at night. Then it turned into every other day until it became once or twice a week until the last week you were at Bobby’s, Sam didn’t try to contact you once. Good.

You went from town to town, trying every crossroads demon. Trying to get information, make a deal. Anything. Every demon denied you a deal, and no one would tell you anything. You were getting frustrated. In between finding demons, you would pick up solo jobs. The roadhouse became your home away from home, wherever your home was supposed to be. Some nights, you would end up like Ash, asleep on top of a pool table or bar; other nights, Ellen would give you the spare back bedroom.

Hunters would come in and try to flirt with you. You would be cordial and say no; however, every hunter was the same- stubborn, and thinking no would eventually turn yes. After the fifth hunter came through and tried to put hands on you, you grabbed his hand, twisting it like Sam taught you, and caused the wrist to snap.

That was the last time a hunter hit on you at the roadhouse.

Every so often, Sam Winchester’s name was brought up around you. Hunters loved to talk, and now you know how every hunter seemed to know you three when traveling, but you never knew them. Each time you heard Sam’s name, your heart became colder, and another shot was poured into your body.

Three more months had passed, and you were no closer to figuring out how to get Dean out of hell. A few times, you thought about calling Sam to see if he was close to saving Dean but decided against it. When your phone rang, you were in a hotel room, just finished clearing out a vamp’s nest. Bobby.

“Bobby.” You say that was your greeting now to anyone; you have no spark of joy left in you.

“I need you to come home.” That was all Bobby said. You sighed and flung your boot off, working on the other one.

“I mean, I can; it will be tomorrow, though; I just finished a hunt; is it that important?”

“It needs to be now,” Bobby said. I stood up.

“Bobby, what’s going on?”

“You’re going to want to see for yourself, get your ass over here and stop arguing with me.”

“Okay, okay, calm down. I’ll be there in a few hours.” You say before you hang up. You look down at all the blood on you and then make eye contact with yourself in the mirror.

“But first, I’m going to shower.” You mutter to yourself.

Freshly showered, you were at Bobby’s five hours later. You turn the ignition off and step out of the car. The afternoon light was setting in, and you started to get nervous. Nothing seemed out of place, so what was the big deal? You opened the door and called for Bobby.

“Bobby, it’s me; what’s so important,”  You stopped as you looked in the living room. Bobby stood there, along with- Dean. You gasped. Dean smiled.

“Hey, Sweetheart.” He spoke. He went to walk towards you.

“Don’t move a muscle.” You say, grabbing your silver knife and keeping it under your shirt and pants.

“Y/N, I already did the checks, it’s him.” Your eyes looked over at Bobby and narrowed again.

“How do I know you’re Bobby?” Dean smiled.

“You’re good here; test me.” Dean held out his arm, and you did all the testing. When he didn’t react, you looked into his eyes, and tears started to form.

“You’re back.” You whispered.

“I’m back,” he said. You wrapped your arms around him and hugged him tightly. After a few minutes, he broke the hug and rubbed your arms.

“Bobby told me about Sam.” Hearing his name iced your heart over once more. You looked away from Dean.

“He made his choice; I made mine. I haven’t talked to him since I left.” Dean nodded his head.

“I was going to try to find him if you wanted to come.”

“Thanks, Dean, but I’ll pass.”  Dean sighed and nodded while Bobby said he was going and was going to finish getting packed. You hugged Dean again before ensuring he still had your number and left.

A few weeks after that, you saw Sam Winchester for the first time in months. You heard rumors from the roadhouse about everything going on with Demons and hunting in packs and were looking for a girl, but you never went and checked for yourself. You knew the brothers would be there. Instead, you took up your usual gigs, hoping to stay away from the war.

It was a little salt and burn hunt. You were dressed in your FBI outfit, questioning the latest victim’s wife when you heard it. That low rumble you used to ride in. You quickly finished up your goodbyes, gave her your card, and started to walk back to your car when they stepped out. Sam’s eyes were wide, and he stood frozen at the vehicle. Dean was walking around the car. Surprise flashed in his eyes, but he kept advancing towards you. Dean wrapped you in a hug, and you returned.

Sam walked up to you and Dean. His eyes stared into yours; his mouth kept opening like he was going to stay something but then would shut it again.

“Are you still seeing her?” It is all that came out of your mouth. The distaste was evident in your voice. Sam looked taken back for a second but then regained his composure.

“No.” That was all he was able to muster up and speak. You looked at Dean for confirmation.

“I haven’t seen her.” That is all he said. That raised suspicion in you. You decided to let it go.

“If you want to help on this case, I can tell you what I have gathered so far; I was about to go get lunch- you guys are buying.” You walk past them and get in your car, not waiting for them to reply. You drove to the diner you saw on the way to the victim's house and noticed the Impala was not too far behind you. You grabbed a booth at the restaurant, and the boys slid to the other side of you. After you three ordered it, you started discussing the case and everything you learned.

“So, what’s your theory?” Sam asked after you gave them everything you learned.

“These men are not correlated to anything except they all went to the same bar. They were all at the bar the night they died. I’m not sure I would have to go back and ask all the victim’s wives, but I think these men were all unfaithful in their marriages. See, Kathleen Voss’ husband was unfaithful and wanted to be with his mistress, who, get this, was a bartender at that bar, so he killed Kathleen and tried to cover it up. Of course, he was caught but died in jail the same way as all the other victims.”

“So, you think these men are sleeping with a bartender?” Dean asked.

“I don’t know if they are unfaithful with a bartender or just in general, but I’m assuming that’s where Kathleen sticks around since that’s where her husband started cheating on her.” The boys nodded their heads in agreement as our food came. You ate, they paid, and then you told them where you were staying. Before Sam could even have a chance to talk to you, you turned around and walked to your car.

Back at the hotel room, you let out tears that had been hiding behind your eyes the entire time you were around Sam. Old wounds opened, and while you gave a brave face, you were crumpling and fast. You headed for the whiskey in your bag and drank it straight from the bottle. The burn hurt on the way down, but you hoped the effects would start soon. You changed out of your FBI gear into lounge clothes to do more research on these men. When you were about to open your laptop, you heard a knock at your door. You grabbed your gun and made your way to open it. Sam.

“Can I come in?” He asked. You didn’t reply; you just opened the door for him. He walked in and stood in the middle of the room awkwardly. You set your gun down and folded your arms across your chest. Sam let out a breath and started talking.

“I know you are still pissed, hurt, sad, everything. I meant what I said. I don’t see her anymore. I haven’t had contact with her in weeks. There are many things I want to tell you that I’m going to tell you; I want to know if I still have a chance.” You looked at him like he was stupid.

“I left MONTHS ago. You only stopped seeing her WEEKS ago? You know that first month I was at Bobby’s? You know I didn’t tell him not to tell you where I was? You could have shown up any time you wanted to, Sam! You didn’t! Sure, you left messages on my phone, but let's be honest- you were still with HER! You still chose HER! Now you want to walk into my hotel room and ask if you have a chance when I haven’t seen you for months, and it’s only been a few weeks away from that demon? Do I look like a fucking convenience store to you? You want me back; you have to earn me back. That starts with no contact with her. That starts with you showing me you want to be with me.”  One tear left your eye while Sam just looked at you. He nodded his head and started to walk out of the room. Before he crossed over, he looked at you and said softly.

“I still love you.” You didn’t reply, and he walked back to his room. You shut the door and slid down until you were sitting on the floor, letting out all the emotions you had been holding in for months.

A little while later, in your measurement time, about half a bottle later, another knock sounded at your door. You got up and stumbled over to your door, opening and seeing Dean. He looked at your state and softened his eyes but then tensed again.

“We need to talk.” That sobered you. You nodded your head and let him in. Dean walked in and turned to face you.

“Sam lied to you.” That is all he said. Your jaw clenched.

“What do you mean?”

“He is still seeing that demon; I’m pretty sure they are together now.”

Red. That is what you saw. In your lounge clothes and all, you grabbed your gun and knife; Dean already had the demon knife on him that Ruby gave the boys a while ago.

“Where the fuck is he?” You asked. Dean led you to Sam’s room. He stopped in front of it.

“Kick it down, Dean.” You spoke. Dean complied, and both of you rushed into the room—the sight before you ripped your heart out and disgusted you simultaneously. Ruby was on top of Sam, no shirt, just a black lace bra and panties. Sam only had boxers on, and he was drinking her blood. His mouth and cheeks had blood on them, and when you two busted through the door, they broke apart, and it was all over his mouth.

Sam’s eyes were wide that he had just been caught, and Ruby had that stupid ass smug smile on her face that you remember all too well. You felt your face heat us as you locked eyes with the demon bitch.

“I’m going to fucking kill you.”

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

@steddiemas week 5 - Confession, Confetti, Midnights, First

rating: T | words: 1,369

woo not late this time! (though it's much shorter than yesterday lmao)

<- back to previous part

Okay. So you fumbled the proverbial bag a couple weeks ago but no big deal, right?

He wasn’t actually leaning in to kiss you… right?

Eddie groans for what feels like the zillionth time in two weeks. 

It’s midday on the 29th, and Eddie’s at home still wallowing over the disaster that was the night of the potluck.

He’s seen Steve since, of course, it’s a small town and an even smaller ‘Monsters are real and only we know about it’ group of people in that town, but it’s not like he could’ve said anything about it. 

…Should he have said something? ‘Sorry about almost kissing you that one day, won’t happen again even though I really wanted to but I’m just a coward, you know how it is..’

Ugh. No.

He wasn’t leaning in. He is not into you like you’re into him. He would not kiss you. Ever.

From down the hall, Eddie can hear the phone start to ring.

For a moment, he condsiders not answering it, but, remembering that Wayne’s actually here for once and not at the Henderson’s, he rolls himself out of his Nest of Wallowing and scurries down the hall for the handset.

“Hello?”

“Hey Ed- Eddie, it’s me. It’s Steve.”

Eddie kicks himself for the shot of excitement that courses through him. “Hey, man, what’s up?

“Oh good, good,” …Uh.. what? “Listen, we’re having a get-together on New Year’s Eve, food and drinks and all that, you wanna come?”

“Uh,” Eddie’s brain flips through all the possible ways he could end up feeling sorry for himself when his kiss at midnight with King Steve fantasies die then says “Sure Harrington, I’ll be there.” like some heartsick loser.

“Sweet, cool, see you then? My place? Midnight? Er, for midnight?”

Eddie overhears someone say “Ten! Tell him ten!”

“Ten?”

“Sure, I’ll be there.”

“Ha! Cool, don’t be square!” 

He opens his mouth to say something else, but hears a click from the other end. …Okay?

He’s already moving to hang the receiver on the hook when, “What in the hell was that, Dingus?”

Eddie freezes. Pulls the handset back to his ear.

“I panicked, okay?! I got nervous.”

“You got nervous. You. Nervous…”

“Yes, Robin, nervous.” Steve sighs.

“Wow, you’re really head over heels aren’t you?”

Eddie’s heart starts jackrabbiting in his chest, but he can’t seem to unfreeze.

Steve? Head over heels for him? Eddie?? No. There’s no way in hell. He must’ve heard wrong.

“Yeah, I am.” Ope.

“For Eddie “The Freak” Munson.”

Steve breathes out a laugh, “Who woulda thought, huh?”

Eddie hangs up the receiver.

He wanders back down the hallway.

And collapses face first onto his bed.

Then, in a fit of hysterics, starts cackling in earnest.

There’s no fucking way.

–

For the next two days it feels like nothing in the whole world can bring him down. 

He feels like he’s walking on air, on the very sunshine itself. 

Edde spends pretty much all day the 31st getting ready.

He takes a shower, making sure to use the curly hair stuff Steve got for him while he was recovering in the spring, he spends the whole time it’s drying spinning pieces of his hair into curls (something that he accidentally discovered actually works to make his hair more curl than frizz), he fishes out a brand new white tee shirt from the pack at the back of his dresser and takes the time to iron out the folds in it.

You know, like a sane person?

Finally, finally, it’s a reasonable enough time to head to Steve’s, heading out at the same time Wayne leaves for his shift that night. 

“Have a drink for me at midnight, ‘kay Ed?”

“Sure Wayne.”

“After you smooch your boy is alrigh’ with me.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, “Har har har,” he deadpans, but can’t help but crack a smile. 

He arrives at Steve’s house at 10:05. 

“Eddie, hey, glad you could make it!” Steve says, smiling at him as he steps aside to let Eddie though the front door, “Here, have a Thingy.”

Eddie takes the thing, toeing off his shoes in the entryway. “A Thingy?”

“Y’know, a confetti whatever, the things people pop off at midnight?”

“Ah right, a Thingy.” he laughs

“Alight, c’mon, we’ve got lots of snacks and drinks, and I think Argyle brought some party favors.” Steve says, leading Eddie into the kitchen and waggling his brows.

“Them’s an after midnight delicacy, my fine-haired friend.” Argyle replies, heading back toward the living room with a literal handful of pretzels.

“Well okay then,”

The whole group of them spend the next couple hours just hanging out, Jonathan, Argyle, Nancy, Robin, Steve, and Eddie. 

Beer, snacks, even some games that Robin fished out from Steve’s basement, Yatzee, Euchre, even fuckin’ Scrabble of all things.

A pretty tame night, and good thing too, because every minute that ticked by closer to midnight had Eddie’s stomach twisting tighter.

He barely even finished one beer, had only managed to get down a handful of potato chips all night.

What if he was making it all up, the conversation he overheard was just some wishful hallucination?

What if it was real and he somehow messed it all up by drinking just a bit too much?

What if he ate something that didn’t agree with him and he was stuck in the bathroom at the stroke of midnight?

What if his colossal loss at Scrabble when he normally knew much better words than ‘sweater’, or ‘chaste’, turned Steve off to him completely?

Minute after minute he suffered internally, stealing glances at the clock on the wall and at the television as each of their midnights tick closer (and at Steve too, who seems nonplussed about any and everything, the bastard).

Finally, when the countdown on the screen hits one minute, and Eddie’s stomach is frozen solid, his gaze is falls on Steve once again, whose eyes are already on him.

He stands up, and heads out the living room and down the hall toward the back of the house.

Eddie gulps, moves to stand, and is nearly knocked off balance when Robin elbows him, “Go get ‘im, Tiger.”

“I’m going, I’m going! Jesus H. Christ..” he whispers back at her.

Eddie scurries out of the room and down the hall after Steve, going directly to the sliding door to the patio and pulling it aside, “Steve?” 

He sticks his head out the door and looks around. 

There’s no one out here. 

Rock still solidly in his stomach, Eddie steps outside, very much noticing there are no footsteps in the dusting of snow that started to come down at some point that night. 

“Stevie?” he tries again, rock sinking lower.

Nothing.

“What the fuck..” he grumbles, turning back inside and wandering down the back hall, “Steve? Where’d you go?”

He’s coming back past the sliding door and toward the Harrington’s sunroom after a failed exploration of the doors down that hall when the garbled voices of the people in Times Square and the others in front of the TV start to count down from “20! 19! 18!”

“Shitshitshitshi– whoa!”

He’d barely gotten a toe into the sunroom when he’s pulled bodily into it.

“There you are, Munson, I thought you’d left me hanging.”

“14! 13! 12!”

Eddie breathes a sigh of relief, “Never, Big Boy.” he grins, watching Steve’s expression echo his.

“I’ve wanted to do this for a while now, you know.” Steve confesses, keeping Eddie wrapped up close to him.

“10! 9!”

“Oh, have you now?” Eddie can’t stop grinning, “Word on the street is I’ve wanted to, too.”

“6! 5! 4!”

“Well I’m not going to stop you.” 

Steve’s leaning in, Eddie’s leaning in, the TV says “2! 1!”

And Eddie’s watch blares up at them annoyingly. “Oh Jesus H. Chri—” he starts, trying to wrestle with the Off button.

To Eddie’s horror and delight, Steve’s hold on him goes just a bit tighter, “You’re not planning on running this time, right?

Watch completely forgotten, Eddie blinks once, taking in the hopeful look in Steve’s eyes, and closes the gap, kissing Steve Harrington for the first time of many.

“Never.”

and then robin comes around the corner to pop her confetti thing over them yelling "Wooo!!"

dividers from @steddiecameraroll-graphics!

[were-all-idjits-here]

Accidental "I Love You"

Pairing: Sam Winchester x gender neutral reader Summary: While enlisting Sam's help to prank Dean, you may or may not blurt something out in the moment that seems to strike an unexpected chord with Sam. Warnings: some cussing; teeny, tiny bit of angst in that Sam and reader are two idiots who don't realize the other is in love with them. A/N: dipping my toe back into writing after some time off with this one. Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated. Enjoy!

*

“What the hell, Dean?” Sam growled as the three of you returned to the motel room. He gestured for you to enter in front of him before slamming the door behind him and holding his hands out in a what the fuck gesture.

“Yeah, seriously,” you grumbled, taking your backpack—now full of loose Skittles thanks to the elder Winchester—towards one of the two beds in the room. “I don’t even like Skittles.”

“I’m sorry, okay?” Dean said, just as irritated. “Look, I thought it was Sam’s backpack. It’s not my fault you two have the same one!”

You set your backpack down on Dean’s bed. “Mine’s blue!”

“Navy blue!” Dean corrected. “Sam’s is black, it looks…almost…the same.”

“No, it doesn’t!” you and Sam cry in unison. Although you were no stranger to watching the brothers’ prank war, they’d never targeted you. In the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t really a big deal; it wasn’t as if it was hot enough to melt the candy and create a sticky mess. But after that particular hunt, you just weren’t in the mood and appreciated Sam’s rage on your behalf.

Dean sighed. “Well, Y/N—I’m sorry. I was aiming for Sam and promise I’ll be more careful next time.”

You flopped down on the bed you and Sam had claimed. “Least you could do is buy us some grub.”

“If I go to that sandwich shop in town and get you a five-cheese grilled cheese, am I forgiven?”

“Only if you get the artichoke dip with it.”

“You got it. Sammy, I’ll get you…something much more boring, don’t worry.” With that, he fled from the room.

You sighed as the Impala’s engine growled to life outside, exchanging annoyed, drained glances with Sam as he sat down at the small, round table in the corner.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he said. “I can help you clean your bag out—”

“Nah.”  You stood and took the offending object from Dean’s bed. “Now that he’s gone, I’ve got a better idea.”  You ripped back the comforter (if it could be called that) off the bed before shoving back the top and fitted sheet, unzipping your backpack and upending it onto the mattress.

Sam laughed so hard, he scared you. You glanced over at him, smiling mischievously as you used your hands to spread the candy out more evenly.

“Well, here, at least get it across the whole bed in case he rolls.” Sam shot up out of his chair and tore the rest of the blankets and sheets off the mattress, helping you pour more Skittles until a fair amount covered the whole mattress.

You groaned as the two of you put the fitted sheet back on carefully over the minefield that was now Dean’s bed. “Oh god, the poor cleaning lady.”

Sam chuckled. “We’ve left behind worse messes, believe me—oh, actually…”

As you finished re-making the bed, Sam ran over to his backpack on the table and pulled out a whoopie cushion. He gave you a wicked grin as he grabbed the pillow off the side Dean usually slept on, stuffing it into the bottom of the case.

You cackled. “That’ll be right in his ear! He’s gonna go deaf!”

“Exactly.” Sam gave you a big, toothy grin and you couldn’t help but stare. He had such a nice smile that was so rarely on display, and you took pride in being one of the few to draw it out of him.

He stared back for a long moment before clearing his throat and putting his hands in his pockets. “You know this is gonna initiate you into the prank war now though, right? Dean won’t hold back.”

“Oh, I look forward to it.” You held out your hand across the bed. “We could be allies though and not tell Dean, really mess with his head. Truce?”

Sam smiled and shook your hand. “Truce.” He glanced back down at the bed. “You don’t happen to have any glue, do you?”

“Oh god, for what?”

He shrugged. “Could glue some Skittles to his stuff.” He joined you on your side of the bed to riffle through his duffle bag on the floor behind you. “Oh! I might have some superglue left from forever ago.”

“Do I even wanna know what you used that for?”

He pulled his bag up onto your shared bed and sat as he riffled through it. “We had a bit of a prank war a while back and I, uh…might’ve put super glue all over his beer bottle in a restaurant so he couldn’t put it back down.”

You threw your head back and laughed, giving Sam a playful shove to the shoulder. “Oh god, I love you.”

Sam’s head suddenly snapped up, the smile half-frozen on his face as he stared at you with a deer-in-the-headlights look. He gave you a breathy laugh before quickly returning his attention to his bag. “Uh…yeah, I—um…”

Your face fell. “Sam?”

“I’m okay,” he said a little too quickly before pulling a small tube out of one of his bag’s front pockets. “Ah, damn, it’s empty.”

Awkwardness still hung thick in the air, making you wonder if your joking I love you had revealed too much about how you actually felt. You suddenly felt a little dizzy at the thought of having just given yourself away only to have your and Sam’s friendship slowly start to crumble in the face of inevitable rejection. You two had always been close and even though the stares had been a little longer lately, if he felt the same about you, you would’ve known by now…right? And surely he wouldn’t have had that reaction just now.

You tried to hide the shakiness of your breath. “We’ll, uh…have to make sure we get more next time we’re at the store then.”

“Yeah.” He glanced at you nervously before giving you a quick smile that disappeared in a hurry.

You hovered by him awkwardly for a few moments, trying to glance at him without catching his eye while he was suddenly very interested in the depths of his bag, empty superglue tube in hand.

“I’ll just—” he started.

“I’m gonna—”  you tried, beginning to move out of the aisle between beds towards the bathroom just as he stood up, bumping straight into you. With his speed and bulk, however, he almost knocked you over and quickly grabbed your forearms to stop you from tumbling back into the nightstand.

“Sorry!” he cried, finally meeting your gaze.

You had grabbed some of his shirt in your fists on instinct and for a moment, you stood transfixed again. Up close, his eyes really were pretty—they were so versatile: some days, they were a deep, dark brown that reminded you of chocolate and looked so warm and inviting, you wanted to just sink into him. Others, like today, flecks of green popped out in just the right lighting, reminding you of a sunflower field. You didn’t realize he was staring back at you with just as much intensity until his thumbs began rubbing gentle circles into your forearms.

You shook your head slightly to clear it. “I’m, ahem, gonna use the bathroom while it’s free.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course! I—yeah!” He quickly let you go, stepping out of your way and gesturing for you to move first.

You quickly yanked a change of clothes out of your now clean bag before hurrying to the bathroom, shutting and locking the door and whatever had just happened away behind you.

Later that night, after you and Sam had already settled in bed, Dean finally emerged from the bathroom. Being on the side closest to his bed, you turned away to face Sam to hide your smile. You found him with his eyes open as well, biting his lip to avoid laughing.

Dean made a contented sigh as you heard the covers thrown back, followed by several cracking and popping noises, then the loud flbbbpppppttttt of the whoopie cushion. “Son of a bitch! Oh, god, ow—fuck—what the hell!”

You covered your mouth with your hand in a vain attempt to hide your laughs, seeing Sam do the same out of the corner of your eye.

“I know you two assholes are awake,” Dean grumbled before climbing back out of bed and checking under the fitted sheet. “Oh, this is war, Y/N.”

“Enjoy your Skittle bed, dickhead,” you said over your shoulder, pulling a loud guffaw from Sam.

“I’m sleeping on the damn couch,” Dean muttered before you heard him move across the room.

You closed your eyes, smiling to yourself, and tried to focus on evening out your breathing. After several minutes, right before you crossed the threshold of sleep, you could’ve sworn you felt warm fingers brushing your cheek.

[dearmrsawyer]

no year in review because it was all horrible really so instead i'm gonna take this chance to share a pile of incredible soc fics because they gave me somewhere else to be

these are all amazing stories and they made me feel a variety of things, and i've been compelled to return to all of them more than once. there are honestly more but this was getting very long. all fic authors thank you so much for putting such beautiful things out into the world ✨

To Everything There Is A Season by @basicbard, @ace-kaz-brekker

When times on the farm get tough, Jesper decides to make use of the old temple in the woods. Almost coincidentally, he meets a strange boy in the same woods shortly after. Are his prayers truly being answered? And why does the stranger seem to know so much?

Incredibly incredibly lovely little mythical fic that i am so enchanted by, this is a type of story that i'm always looking for and when someone who shares your interest happens to create it that is a gift from god, frankly

out of the forest (into a home) by stillthestars

Wylan is adrift in the city; Jesper and the rest of the Crows take him in. Daemon AU.

I have read this fic so many times, every couple of months at least, and the comments are turned off so i can never tell the author how much I love what they've created and i literally lie awake at night haunted by this (i do mean literally).

A Shot in the Dark by alex_kade

The Crows are on a treasure hunt, but when Wylan gets seriously injured the mission becomes one of saving their friend. OR yet another fic where Wylan is the bravest of brave little toasters.

The first in my love affair with fics where Wylan gets shot lol. "bravest of brave little toasters" lives in my head rent free always.

A Measure of the Sum of Parts by @kindness-ricochets

Wylan is trying to improve Kerch and Jesper is trying to be happy with his life. After an accident he heads for the Little Palace to learn how to control his abilities, and Wylan uncovers yet another dark family secret. Reunions in Ravka, political machinations, and the beauty of a strange little family.

The other fic i am biologically compelled to reread every couple of months. So so many fics by this author touch me, but this one is seriously everything to me.

Musée des Beaux Arts by @oneofthewednesdays

Six portraits of life and death in Ketterdam featuring the interwoven stories of Wylan Van Eck and Kaz Brekker.

One of the best fics i've ever read in any fandom, an utterly perfect character analysis fic about the Wylan/Kaz parallels

the handmaid by MaudeAlise

It’s a relatively straightforward job: Jesper will pretend to be the handmaid to the withdrawn and sheltered Van Eck heir, and convince him to elope with another mercher. That’s all Jesper has to do on his end, and then the Crows will walk away with 45 million kruge. It’s a simple task. Or it would be, if not for the fact that there seems to be more to Wylan Van Eck than meets the eye, and Jesper can’t help but be intrigued—and maybe a bit charmed, too.

Me reading this fic channeling whatever energy those instagram romantasy readers possess, like ok i get the feeling you guys are trying to express i really get it now. what on earth could be better than Jesper employed to be Wylan's handmaid. maybe nothing? SO compelling

under a merciless white light by @feelinglikecleopatra

Jesper decides to grow out his hair.

one of the most moving fics i've ever read ever, idek how to express it

Love is War (And War is Hell) by @silverbirching

Jesper and Wylan face their biggest challenge as a couple to date: dealing with a houseguest. (and that houseguest has done war crimes)

WIP. Nothing could've prepared me for how completely smitten I would be with the concept of Jesper and Wylan taking care of a wounded Ivan. Like i'm head over heels for this fic, its hilarious and sweet and emotional, it is just way too delightful, i can't handle it

Flight of the Butterfly / Symbiosis by @jazzythursday

travel time between Shu Han and Ravka. Jesper wanders onto the deck of the Hummingbird at night, restless and looking for… something, and finds Wylan instead. Conversations about sensitive topics ensue, and even Crows need sleep.

my fav missing scene fic inspired by SAB!!!! I was DESPERATE for more time on that ship and this fic gave me everything i wanted. the characterisation in this fic is flawless

If you hold me without hurting me, you'll be the first who ever did by gglow

Jesper and Wylan's first times at the Van Eck mansion, because we all need closure.

i can't get enough of fics set immediately after CK exploring how Wylan and Jesper settle into the mansion, this might be my favourite one i've read, its just so tender

somewhere full of bright colours and beautiful sounds by @jackwolfes

A Marya Hendriks Van Eck character study, aka Marya adjusts to life back in Ketterdam.

So many fics by this author, but i think about this fic all of the time. Its the fic i've always wanted and its everything i could've hoped for.

We're Gonna Need a Bigger Pentagram by @emmy-everafter

Nina Zenik is a vet med student who's almost done with her clinical rotations… but she's also secretly a very powerful witch. When someone brings a cursed, injured werewolf into the animal hospital, Nina decides to try to save his life, despite the bitter hatred that exists between wolves and witches. She enlists the help of her housemates, Jesper (who's also a witch), Inej (who's fae), and Kaz (who may or may not be a vampire). But breaking this curse requires more than Nina bargained for, and time is running out. Can the Crows save the werewolf before it's too late? More importantly, can they do it under the nose of their all-too-human housemate, Wylan? And--perhaps the most important question of all--will Nina finally get some decent waffles?

PURE joy, just made me so happy??? extremely delightful, fun, also super touching. Just so so so rich. One of my fav AUs, making all the crows a different creature and then putting them in a house together, A+.

To Live in Color by @sixofcrowdaydreams

As a child Wylan Van Eck was told by his father that domestic labor is all he will ever accomplish since he cannot read. He’s grown up cleaning his own family’s home. It’s not easy work, but it’s gotten easier over the years. If only he wasn’t so lonely. But now that his father has remarried and a has a new heir on the way, Wylan has the suspicion that he won’t be kept around much longer, even to clean. So for once in Wylan’s life, he decides to live for himself. Just this once. He’ll attend the King’s Masquerade Ball whether his father wants him there or not. However, his plan the night of the masquerade goes sideways when he meets a handsome sharpshooter and the criminal crew he runs with carrying out a heist at the palace. Wesper Cinderella AU

one of those perfect storm fics where not only is the writing wonderful, the characterisation on point, but the story itself is just SO engrossing. this was heartbreaking and uplifting

The In-Between by @sparrowmoth

Born into a world where a highly stigmatized and exploited series of genetic mutations can completely strip you of your humanity, Wylan has known since childhood that something was different about him. The same something different that is said to have killed his mother. Now, abandoned by his father, and his world shrunk to a cage, he must decide if to accept his fate or risk everything to change it.

WIP. The.... worldbuilding..... magnifique. this fic has me exclaiming GOD at least once a chapter lol. I haven't read many hybrid fics in my time but i fear i am now spoiled and no one can live up to this

Crows of the Saintly Days by Allthebestpeopleare

A very chaotic Inej, Nina and Jesper go to Ketterdam University. Things start to get interesting when Nina catches the eye of a cute jock in psych class, a very shy and sweet Wylan stumbles into their friend group, and a past associate of Inej's makes more and more appearances.

Prob the longest fic i've ever read, but genuinely would not sacrifice a single word. Weaves textfic and prose, and altho imo textfic can be kinda vapid/ooc what starts out as v light fun spirals into a wonderfully well developed story that really deeply moved me, and i loved the style!

Blood in the Water by hopeisbloody

Kaz Brekker runs the Barrel, his Wraith, and his Sharpshooter at either side for eternity. Jesper Fahey, ten years into his immortality, still a fledgling at heart, feels lost, alone, empty. Kaz and Inej have each other, and they have had each other for centuries. Even in their inner circle, he’s excluded from the millennia of memories they share. Their rule is disrupted. Bodies appear, drowned, drained of blood. Wylan is back, but what for?

This is one of the coolest Wylan characterisations i've ever read, such an incredibly engrossing story, I literally could not stop reading

We Keep This Dream Together by @magicandpizza

An entirely self-indulgent, vaguely chaotic, mostly sweet Six of Crows coffee shop/university AU, based (largely) on my experiences of the UK university system. Mostly focused on Wesper, but with sides of Helnik and Kanej too.

The most comfort fic ever, its not technically a Christmas fic (altho it does appear in a chapter) but feels like a Christmas fic to me because it makes me feel a sense of warmth and comfort that time of year embodies

a path to normal by seimaisin

Home is a difficult concept for Wylan and his mother. Jesper makes it easier.

so delicate and lovely, another fic set in the direct aftermath of CK focused on Marya returning home, which i can never get enough of <3333

In a Full Life, All Hearts Break a Little by alcove_words

Two years after the end of Crooked Kingdom, Jesper finally visits Novyi Zem and the father and life he left behind. But he isn't alone; Wylan comes, as well, determined to be supportive. Neither of them expects it to be an easy trip, but Novyi Zem holds more for both of them than they are prepared for.

Selling my soul for all fics set in Novyi Zem, but this one...... so SO beautiful. So conversation-based but full of story, so BIG hearted, such unbelievably beautiful writing.

Of Bronze and Blaze by amagicbeyond

This is a Wesper-centric reimagining of Six of Crows and Crooked Kingdom, through the lens of the Shadow and Bones TV canon.

WIP. Oh my god????? Oh... my god. I don't even have words for this one, its just unbelievable

[she-walks-on-starlight]

You Ruined Me (Do it Again)

a/n: Part 2 is here! I promise it will get juicy! Thanks to all who have liked it so far! My inbox is open for requests at the moment ✨

Warnings: drinking alcohol, referenced cheating, smoking, gambling, possessive!sevika, referenced sex (explicit!), choking kink, sexually explicit teasing.

Summary: Your first night out in a while after leaving your cheating ex does not end how you expected it to...but then what did you expect, going to her club?

Word Count: 1.3k

18+ | MEN AND MINORS DNI | 18+

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Final

You stomp out of the bathroom, thoroughly worked up and now angry as hell. The temptation to find Sevika and slap the smirk off her face was overwhelming. She’s gone back to her poker game, dealing the cards effortlessly, barely sparing you a glance as she lights up a new joint. You watch as she clenches it in her teeth, moving it around her mouth as she inhaled. A lump formed in your throat as a petite brunette with a short pink skirt and matching halter top teetered over and sat in Sevika’s lap, whispering in her ear and sharing the joint with her.

You recognised her, one of Babette’s girls. Exactly the kind of company Sevika preferred.

Jinx appears out of thin air it seems and squeezes your arm. “You okay, sparky?”

You grinned at your nickname, courtesy of being an electrician in the lanes. You turned away from the poker tables, willing the urge to vomit away. You were here to dance with your best friend, not worry about whatever games Sevika was playing.

“I am now you’re here! Wanna dance some more?”

You spared one last fleeting glance at the gambling area. That’s when you saw her, glaring intently at you and Jinx. You frowned, not sure why she’s suddenly so fixated on you when you realise her eyes are trained on Jinx’s hand, still squeezing your arm. Her eyes narrowed as Jinx moved to take your hand instead.

“Sure am! Come on!”

As you both began to dance to the music, Jinx pulled you close. “You sure you’re okay, sparky? I saw you know who over there giving you the stink-eye.”

You sigh. “One minute I’m in the bathroom minding my own business, putting more lippy on when she grabs me outta nowhere and kisses me-”

Jinx’s grip on you tightens. “Wait WHAT?! Are you okay? Did she hurt you? Where is she? I’m gonna tear her a new a-”

You laugh and pat Jinx’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, I didn’t mind really…”

You bite your lip as you remember the thrill that tingled through your veins, becoming a wanting ache between your thighs, begging for Sevika to make it better.

Searing bites to your neck as she claimed you, possessed you, marked you for all Zaun to see. You were hers, nobody else’s not that you’d ever want anyone but her.

You remembered her strong hands around your throat, squeezing tight as she reminded you that you were hers while she made you come around her fingers.

You had been hers, willingly. You would’ve followed her anywhere. It was just a shame she didn’t seem to feel the same way, in the end.

Jinx is staring at you incredulously, clicking her fingers at your dazed expression. “Y/n! You can’t seriously be telling me that you’re getting on that train again!”

You sigh, the throbbing of your pussy and the feeling of Sevika’s eyes on you making it hard for you to concentrate. Deep down, you know Jinx is right. You and Sevika had passion, fire, and raw sexual energy. You had never had better sex but that was all you two could offer each other. You’d tried the relationship thing, and it had crashed and burned just like your friends had said it would. Sevika was a player, and old habits die hard.

“I know, I know. I won’t go there. Just felt really good to be kissed by her like that, just like old times.”

Jinx huffed. “Please spare me the details. She’s no good for you, sparky. In fact, I know just how to get her off your mind.”

She pulled at your hand, leading you towards the bar. Jinx was a ball of excitement, as per usual. “We need shots! Hey, bar boy, we need tequila over here, stat!”

A group of girls giggling nearby caught your attention, one of them the cute blonde Jinx had danced with earlier. You eye Jinx knowingly as she stares in wonder at the cute blonde. You nudge her forward.

“Go talk to her, Jinx! Buy her a drink!”

Jinx grins at you. “Don’t need to tell me twice, sparky!”

She bounds up to the girl who giggles cutely as Jinx introduces herself, and you smile proudly as she accepts Jinx’s offer of a drink. Leaving Jinx to her impromptu date, you thank the bartender as he delivers two shots of tequila with salt and lime, as well as another espresso martini. You know the bartender well; he knows it’s your favourite cocktail.

As you sip, you survey the other people clamouring around the bar, spotting a woman leaning leisurely against one of the tall tables. The woman certainly looked older, older than Sevika even, but she was a smoke-show. She towered over most of the other club patrons, with dark, smooth skin accentuated by her white peplum dress. She was clearly a gym lover, her arm and thigh muscles bulging, much to your appreciation. Her hair was a dark grey, with silvery highlights, curled ringlets forming a beautiful afro. She sipped lazily at her drink, swirling the glass, clearly unfazed by the dancing partygoers around her. She was stunning, and the way your core dampened at the sight of her meant that she would be more than adequate. If Sevika was gonna mess you around, you’d find someone else to fuck you right.

You approached the table under the guise of putting the drinks down somewhere, while you put on a show of looking for Jinx even though you knew exactly where she was. You’d watched her lead the cute blonde out where the alleyway was about 5 minutes ago. Now it was time to cast a reel and see if the woman was interested. She hadn’t acknowledged you when you moved to the table but that didn’t mean anything. You innocently dropped the straw for your espresso martini onto the floor, allowing a gentle blush to grace your cheeks.

“Oh, I’m so clumsy.”

You bend over to pick up the straw, and wobble ever so slightly in your heels. You feel a presence at your back, sturdy hands holding you in place as you stand straight, the woman looking at you curiously.

Bingo.

You smile coyly. “Oh! Thank you, nearly went over then, didn’t I?”

The woman cocked her head to one side, analysing you. She ran a large hand from your exposed collarbones, up your neck until she reached your face and stroked your cheek.

“My, my, aren’t you a pretty little thing?”

Her voice was low, and very sexy. Your cunt pulsed as her warm hands caressed your face, imaging those long, thick fingers taking you to the brink and pushing you over the edge.

You arch an eyebrow at her but smile warmly in thanks. “I do try my best to look pretty, you never know who might be looking.”

The woman leaned forward, her scarred face grinning like the cat that got the cream. “Well, I’m certainly looking now, darling.”

Hook, line and sinker.

You flutter your eyelashes at her and push one of the shots towards her. Time for your winning move.

“Tequila?”

The woman smirks, nodding her acceptance. You pass her the saltshaker and a lime wedge. You watch as she licks the salt, observing her wide tongue and revelling in the coiling feeling in your lower belly. She drinks the tequila with no fuss, biting the lime wedge hard.

“I haven’t drunk tequila in an age! Delicious! But it is your turn now, sweet thing. I’m Ambessa, by the way.”

You wink at her. “I’m y/n.”

You take the saltshaker from her, making a show of curling your pink tongue as you licked salt from your wrist. You swallowed the shot of tequila with ease, years of drinking with Jinx meant tequila was basically like water to you now. Bringing the lime wedge to your lips, you teasingly rubbed it against your plump lower lip before biting into it with a salacious moan.

Ambessa isn’t the only one in the club watching your little game with keen interest. You’re too busy flirting with Ambessa, failing to notice Sevika’s eyes on you, her expression positively murderous.

Ambessa’s eyes were dark with lust. “Would you like to dance, sweet girl?”

[kaontic]

*Long post*

They are recovering from being exposed to a p.o.j.

Megs. I’m talking about Megs. He’s my second favorite villain of all time rn (tied with Star actually), but he is the ultimate p.o.j (piece of junk).

In fact, this issue, def makes me wanna change my pfp, use the Transfixatron on Megs in his gun mode, and bury his aft in the more than 200ft deep mine shaft at the bottom of this crater fr.

Obviously it’s not deep enough but still.

Or you know what scratch that—because I would just be vandalizing a cool site, wouldn’t I? With JUNK!

*Looks down*

Yeah. I said it. Why are you even here rn—? Do you want me to discuss the time you were responsible for Brawl m[REDACTED]ing a puppy?

Thundercracker: What?

DO YOU?!

Idc if he “just” wanted to capture the dog. He “just” wanted to capture the dog to make dog soldiers.

Not even Joker would do that.

And in this continuity and this issue, we find out that he has no problem with and is EAGER to recruit youngling soldiers.

Or in other words, Cybertronians who have not fully developed their brain chips yet who are thus easier to manipulate.

(God this is gonna be a long post—)

Optimus, Grimlock, any Autobot—you better have tried to talk/keep Bee out of fighting like you did with Carly. Or at least, be real with him and have the “Prime told me there’d be days like this!” conversation.

Cliff and Arcee too despite us knowing damn well that they will fight no matter what.

Because, after all, at least in the US, you can join the military at 18 (or 17 with parental consent). Furthermore, it’s a sad fact of life, but many underage people fight in conflicts all over. It happens and is happening and I’m glad this has finally been (at least as far as I’ve seen and remember) explicitly acknowledged in a franchise about war.

I’m gonna try to be more organized about this but here are more things to note:

. We don’t know any Cybertronians’ official age. That’s never been a thing, because you’d have to calculate, and Hasbro ain’t doin’ that math.

. That being stated tho, based on the dialogue, Star/Ulchtar in this flashback could be anywhere from 14-19 years old in human years.

. It seems like he has some part-time job. Mood.

. This is the first time in canon I’ve seen a youngling Starscream join the Decepticons. In G1, he was an adult (former full-time scientist right?). In the WFC games, an adult. In TF One, an adult (and even older than Megs? I mean Steve Buscemi’s voice does not age fr so—).

. Kup looks significantly younger here than he does in Issue #7. That is Kup up there, right? Like middle-aged I guess? ⬆️

(Oh man…how is Hot Rod going to react…RIP)

. Um…that information from Issue #1.

Ok ok ok—I really need to focus here—

. When Genvo gets blasted, he falls forward into Ulchtar’s arms. I’m no physicist, but this means he must have been shot from the back, right?

. Optimus to me seems to appear from behind Ulchtar (in the other direction).

. Optimus presumably does not hurt Ulchtar (or even notice him?), which makes sense (if he saw Ulchtar). He’s unarmed.

. Optimus doesn’t have the same gun he did in Issue #1 here, and he has no gun at all in the Energon Universe Special sh*t how am I supposed to compare—

Holy scrap I scare myself. O_O

. Megs’ fusion cannon cools fast.

. Megs knows that Ulchtar has brothers (“brothers” can also refer to comrades. As in “brothers-in-arms”).

. To Genvo, it’s not a matter of “if” Jetfire and Ulchtar join. It’s “when”. He knew more than he was able to let on too.

. Megs was able to answer Ulchtar’s question…despite him asking it in a low voice to himself? And from farther away? What?

. Megs, why the hell were you smiling when you made that claim in the EUS? That was my first 🚩, I just forgot to mention it before. Don’t you care about Cybertron? What is your deal? How old are you? HOW OLD IS OPTIMUS? HOW OLD IS JETFIRE NOW??????? THEY DIDN’T AGE THE SAME DUE TO THE CRASH—Oh wait right Void Rivals.

. Like no wonder Skybound Star acts so immature and violent, and maybe even resentful of Jetfire leaving him (which explains his hostility that caught Jetfire off guard).

In G1 he acts bratty, but he’s always been portrayed as an adult, so I didn’t expect this I just thought—FRAG— 😭

. I think we can all agree here that this is still not an excuse to lash out at the innocent, so Carly still deserves to get justice/his aft (idk [insert theme about revenge here]). But also Megs. Frag Megs, like honestly (I didn’t even like TF One Megs by the end). 😒

. And this is exactly how I imagine Megs recruiting his victims followers, especially when he’s interested in particular ones (it freaking happens in my AU but anyway— 😀).

Step 1: Show up at the right moment, when they are at their lowest. Act nice, very nice, and make yourself look less intimidating, by changing into something that’s not only small, but also capable of protection. Hence, a gun (gun-tank hybrid whatever—maybe he’s a triple changer like my AU).

It’s his way of communicating that he trusts you/sees your potential, and that you better could trust him because he will protect you, and guide you, and care for you, etc.— He’s totally not luring you into a false sense of security so he could use you. 🙂🫠

Step 2: Use information you know (to get even more personal) and high emotions to your advantage.

Step 3: ?????????????

Step 4: Profit until you get what’s coming to you.

Dammit why is he so magnetic? Forget the fusion cannon, that’s the scariest thing about him people!

My overall theory:

Genvo tragically said too much. Maybe he was trying to impress and gain Megs’ favor (somebody who he already looks up to), so he mentioned their (or just Ulchtar’s) clan (part of the Cybertronian defense force? Oh boy).

They’re numerous, fliers, and most valuably of all, some are outliers (have powers). Skywarp’s teleportation. The Rainmakers’ acid. Sunstorm’s radiation. Oh, how destructive that would be in a fight…

So, he put a tracker/recorder on Genvo (with or without his knowledge), wanting to find out what the clan’s deal was. Or maybe he or Soundwave just straight up stalked them via their alt modes, I wouldn’t be surprised. Are they interested in a side? Apparently not, and for Megs that’s a problem. Let’s make them interested.

Akin to the Aligned novels, he blows their territory up, intending to blame it on the Autobots. Genvo, perhaps aware of Megs’ plan/true intentions, is merely one loose end to tie.

In the end, Genvo wasn’t special or that useful, but he made for good fridge stuffing.

Idk how Omega Supreme factors into this. Maybe Optimus did blast Genvo. Nevertheless, Megs once again proves that he is the biggest selfish douchebag who cares more about himself than Cybertron’s future (unless proven otherwise?).

And I hope Carly wins/finds happiness along with Spike. Peace out. ✌️

[diana-bluewolf]

It’s the fanfic I wrote about in the previous post

—------------------------------

Word count: ~4500

Warnings: passive suicidal ideation (don’t ask me how I ended up here with a funny comic as a base); m/m; not proofread.

English is not my first language - sorry for the mistakes!  

Additional tags: Ominis/M!MC, hurt-comfort, demisexual MC, SFW

Summary: Chris had read that “I’d die for you” thing in some books. It didn’t make any sense to him because it didn’t sound like a big deal. He’d die for himself. But when he thought about Ominis’s words echoing around the Undercroft, he realised that for the moon-eyed boy he was ready to make a much more labour-consuming sacrifice. 

He’d live for him.

—------------------------------

When I feel so alone out here And freedom means I am lost When every day seems a slow-motion suicide You reignite my lust for life Lust for Life Song by Poets of the Fall

"Guess who's back!" 

Sebastian raised his head from the book he was reading on his bed to find Chris at the doorway to their dorm. 

"Oh, you were away?" teased Sebastian, grinning and arching his eyebrow. Ominis, who was resting on a small couch next to the fireplace, rolled his eyes and tilted his head towards Chris, smiling.

It was Friday evening. The lessons had recently ended, and the only thing keeping the students indoors was the spring rain outside. Besides, the N.E.W.T.s were approaching, so there was no time to relax.

“Aww, it’s so nice to be missed,” said Chris theatrically as he threw his shabby case on the floor next to his bed and shot Sebastian a smirk. The green-eyed boy was soaking wet after walking in the rain and took out his wand to dry himself, but instead came over to Sebastian and shook his head like a dog, spraying his friend with water.

Sebastian laughed and tried to kick Chris away, but he dodged, smirking.

“Well, I have to admit,” Sebastian said, watching Chris casting the drying spell on himself, ”it was a bit problematic to maintain the same level of chaos in the castle for the last two weeks. But I did my be –”

“Two weeks and four days,” objected Ominis hastily.  

Chris blinked in surprise and then beamed at the blond, who now was pursing his lips as if he said something wrong. Apart from that, Ominis looked just as collected and neat as usual, but something was off. Apparently, Chris got lost in his thoughts while watching Ominis because he didn't hear Sebastian asking him a question.

"Sorry, what did you say?" Chris returned to reality, realising that Sebastian was staring at him with a strange expression.

Sebastian suddenly clicked his tongue and exclaimed, "Blimey, look at the time! I've got to dash." He shut his book and jumped off the bed, heading towards the door.

"Wha – Why?" Chris furrowed, puzzled by his friend's sudden haste. 

"No time to explain – an urgent matter!" exclaimed Sebastian. As he ran past Chris, he tripped over and crashed into the other boy, shoving him towards the couch where Ominis was sitting. "My bad, guys! See you later!" And with that, he disappeared in the doorway.

Chris lost balance and landed atop shocked Ominis. He only managed to fling out his hand and prop it against the wall behind the couch to prevent himself from smashing into the blind boy at full speed. 

Ominis twitched and breathed out madly, “What the hell are you –“ trying to feel the intruder with his hands to understand what had happened. 

“It’s my knee,” commented Chris quietly when Ominis’s hand grasped the mentioned part of his body. 

“Sorry, I have no idea what gave Sebastian the impression I needed some flying practice,” uttered Chris. He attempted to stand up but froze halfway, looking at Ominis under him, their faces barely an inch apart.

Ominis, who could feel Chris’s breath on his lips, forced himself to speak through clenched teeth, "Oh, I will organise some flying practice for him later."

From the Astronomy tower.

An urgent matter. Of course, Sebastian did it on purpose. He was the only one who knew. 

_________

It had happened the night before.

A thud had pulled Sebastian out of his dream, and he had found Ominis on the floor on all fours, tangled in his blanket and groping around with trembling hands for his wand.

“Hey,” Sebastian kneeled beside his best friend, “I’m here, buddy. What has happened?” He found Ominis’s wand on the floor and pressed it into the blind boy’s palm. “Looking for this?” 

Ominis grasped the wand and sat on the floor, leaning heavily on his bed. 

“What has happened?” repeated the question Sebastian. “Was it a nightmare?”

Ominis, throwing his head backwards, only nodded slightly, his lips pursed.

“I thought they were gone,” said Sebastian, sitting on the floor next to Omins and realising it had been a long time since something like this had happened. 

“I thought so, too,” Ominis finally uttered, “but…it’s just…I guess it’s a…”

Sebastian waited for his usually composed and eloquent friend to find the right words in the silence of their dorm. 

“Him,” Ominis finally managed to say as if his throat was squeezed. 

_________

If someone at the start of his fifth year had told Ominis how much his opinion about Chris Mongrel would change, he would have offered them to visit St Mungo, just in case, to check their mental state. The new student had been just a class clown with a finger in every pie, not to mention that he had seemed to keep pulling Sebastian into dangerous activities.  

The Neophyte. It was what Ominis used to call that new show-off because the Heir of Slytherin was irritated by the new boy’s real name, pronounced by Sebatian too often. The new fifth year was manipulative, could lie with the most sincere expression and was the last person Ominis could think good of.

Nevertheless, of all people, it was Chris who eventually turned into the only source of warmth that could at least slightly dispel the cold of Dark Magic that Ominis found himself surrounded by - the cold of Sebastian’s despair. It was Chris who made great efforts to save Ominis’s friendship with Sebastian despite all the pressure he had on his shoulders due to the goblin rebellion. It was Chris who was there for him when Ominis needed it most, and if not for him, Ominis probably would have done another thing he would regret forever - turning Sebastian in. 

But then…Then Professor Fig died.

Chris became withdrawn and indifferent to anything around him, barely communicating with anyone. Even when he did, he was rude and obnoxious. By the start of their sixth year, Chris pushed away everyone. They didn’t talk for months. The only thing he paid attention to was lessons and schoolwork. Chris became an even more brilliant student than before. The teachers loved him. The students kept away. 

Some tried to bully him, but it looked like Chris just waited for this. His revenge was cruel enough to get him expelled. But the Hero of Hogwarts could make an innocent face when needed, and since he was the teachers’ favourite, he got away with everything.

Meanwhile, Ominis struggled with nightmares more than usual after the events of the fifth year. The scream of the muggle that he tortures with Crucio… this time followed by Avada Kedavra spell cast by him. Anne cries after burying Solomon, but this time, she blames Ominis for helping Sebastian find the relic. Sebastian killed his uncle, but this time, Ominis meets his best friend in Azkaban after turning him in. Chris disappears from the hospital wing in the turmoil after the fight for Hogwarts, but this time is found dead later. 

Ominis often couldn't fall asleep, and since being trapped with his thoughts in the night silence of their dorm was unbearable, he came to the common room after lights out. Chris seemed to deal with the same, so they often encountered each other there.  

The brunet usually would leave to sneak out of the castle without saying a word. As Ominis found out later, at best, Chris would sleep, curling up beside his "little" pet, Misha the Wolf, in the Forbidden Forest, because it was giving him the illusion of not being alone. At worst, he would indulge in that habit. The one that made Ominis feel cold inside. The habit of chasing for the opportunity to die. 

No, Chris didn't actually try to kill himself on purpose. But he never endeavoured to keep his life safe either. The boy simply didn't care. Whenever there was an opportunity to risk his life – Merlin knew how Chris managed to find them, whether it be killing a poorly trained troll or wandering into a cave full of Acromantulas just to find a thing of sentimental value for one of the nearby villagers – he would go for it eagerly. 

It lasted until the middle of their sixth year, when one night, Ominis found Chris bleeding in the Undercroft. The brunet didn’t want to go to the hospital; he had no Wiggenweld potions left and was generally too weak to care for himself. Ominis knew some basic healing spells – he had to learn them because of his idiot of a friend (for both of them, actually). 

Ominic treated the other boy’s wounds, clenching his teeth in silence. When he finished and was about to leave without saying a word, he heard that indifferent voice with a hint of mockery. The first words Chris had told him in the last half year.

"Thank you, Dr Gaunt. I'm looking forward to the next appointment."

Here, the author doubts whether it would be offensive to present Ominis’s answer as it was to the noble ears of the reader. So here is the censored version:

"Your life belongs to you, and I can't make you treat your belongings as I want, so I just ask you – No, I beg you – Keep. It. Safe. You lost someone you hold dear. I understand that. But you know what? You are not the only one here who came through this. And now you're endangering the life of another person I care about - and you don't even give me a chance to help him! You did so much to save my friendship with Sebastian. Why don't you even try to save ours?!" 

As mentioned above, it didn't sound like that exactly. It was pronounced in a mad voice and with a couple or two eloquent curses that were odd to hear from Ominis. Chris also didn't yet know that it was possible to beg someone for something by grabbing that someone by the collar and slamming them into a wall. 

Ominis had no idea how or why, but it seemed to have an effect. The next night, when they came across in the common room, Chris suddenly said “Hi” before leaving. Despite them being alone, Ominis wasn’t even sure it was addressed to him. The other night, they exchanged a couple of awkward words. The next night, they had a little meaningless conversation about a book Ominis was reading to distract himself. The night after, Chris suddenly offered to read aloud to Ominis. 

The next time, Chris suddenly stopped reading and put away the book to apologise for being a jerk all that time. That brought a string of heated discussions when slipping to blaming or resentment alternated with climbing the steep mountain of understanding each other.

Not every night was smooth. Too much had happened. Too much they both closed their hearts. But none of them stopped coming to the common room after lights out. 

Eventually, they rebuilt the wall they set up between each other into a cosy little house, in which both of them felt comfortable and knew where to put their shoes so that they wouldn't irritate the other one or which plaid to choose to cover the housemate when he was cold. It was the house they didn't want to leave, the house they could call home. In fact, it was the only place both of them could call home.

Chris became softer with others, too, and even though he still remained true to himself with most of them, being detached and manipulative, there was another side of him that only Ominis knew. The Chris, who was selfless, caring and reliable. Some might say he was too caring, as annoyingly overprotective as one can be. 

But for Ominis, it was an oasis he could immerse himself in and dissolve his unsettling thoughts. Floating in the void of his blindness and being raised in a family where the threat could come from any direction, Ominis perceived the world as precarious, to say the least. The price for this was his nightmares. 

Ominis used to hate nights, but now he couldn’t wait for when he and Chris would meet alone, following their unspoken tradition. He loved their conversations or just the silence they shared when they were too tired to talk, and he especially found pleasure in hearing the other’s voice, which was reading to him, quite deep and low for the owner’s age – the voice that soothed Ominis and filled him with warmth, the voice that made him feel safe.

First, Ominis began to fall asleep easier. Then, his nightmares started to fade until they dissolved almost completely. And then, in their seventh year, he found himself having new dreams. These were… good. Too good, but also causing concerns – dreams that were inappropriate towards a friend. 

Ominis wasn’t ashamed of them and cherished this new feeling that had bloomed in the soil, soaked with guilt, grief and fear. However, the boy was not going to reveal his secret and risk what he obtained, especially since Chris had never shown interest in a romantic relationship with anyone. 

Little did Ominis know how Chris’s absence would impact him. The longer the other was away, the more often Ominis woke up terrified because the old nightmares were returning. Last night seemed to be the last straw, so when Sebastian asked him what was happening to him, Ominis couldn’t stand it anymore. He needed to get all the emotions boiling in him off his chest. All the time, he wanted to tell Chris the truth, but was afraid. The way he missed the voice he loved so badly. 

He had told Sebastian the truth. 

He had fallen in love with their friend. 

The friend whose presence had made his nightmares disappear.   

_________

Ominis had made Sebastian swear he wouldn't tell Chris anything. But Sebastian wouldn't be Sebastian if he hadn't found a loophole in his promise. Why would he wait for his friends to take the first step towards each other if he could just throw one into another? It was a much more efficient way to shorten distances than steps, wasn't it?

If Ominis' thoughts weren't occupied by his current predicament and the panic growing in him because of Chris's proximity, he would be mad at Sebastian. Or should he thank him? How else could Ominis get a chance to become closer to the one who, although attentive in general, was absolutely oblivious when it came to romantic feelings? And thinking about it – really, how? Like this, by accident? That wasn't right.  

But Chris was so close. His warmth. His weight, pressing Ominis into the couch. His smell – the mixture of ink, pine and …was it Wiggenweld potion? 

Just like before. 

Did Chris need it again recently? Ominis hoped it had stayed in the past. 

Perhaps this concerning thought was the only thing keeping him from pulling Chris closer and reducing the little distance between them to nothing. In fact, Ominis knew that he had to push Chris away but hoped that Chris would be the one to get off the couch (and, well, him) first. For some reason, the brunet didn't hurry to do it.

Meanwhile, Chris used the opportunity to look at Ominis closer. The blond's face was crimson now, but it wasn't that that bothered Chris – just a normal human reaction to a violation of personal space. Chris had difficulties understanding what personal space is. Of course, it's better to keep away from people as much as possible – it's simply easier this way. But if you already interact with them – what's wrong if you stand too close to someone? 

But it mattered to others, and Ominis, Chris did know, valued his personal space even more than people usually did. Chris would have stepped away immediately if not for a detail that caught his attention – the dark circles under Ominis’s eyes. 

Just like before. 

When Chris had left half a month ago, he had thought Omnis would finally have an opportunity to rest from him. Deep down, he was always afraid – what if Ominis was spending so much time with him out of sheer politeness or, worse, pity? 

In his fifth year, Chris had been sure that if people were “kind” to him, it was just because they needed something from him. Why had Sebastian been so friendly with him when he had arrived at Hogwarts? Obviously, because of ancient magic, which could potentially be a key to healing Anne. All this nonsense about “friendship” was just a convention, a game played as long as it was beneficial, a fairytale to fantasise about. 

But then there was Ominis, who didn’t conform to the idea that friendship was a mere cooperation. For some reason, he cared for Sebastian no matter what, despite all the disadvantages. And then Chris began to doubt. What if friendship really existed as it was described in books? At least in rare cases? Inside, he always wanted to believe in it, but his rational side made fun of his naivety. But what if he did find a proof? 

It became important for Chris to save the friendship between the two Slytherins at all costs because if it fell, so would all his childish hopes that he, too, could be someone’s friend one day. 

Who was he to Ominis? Chris didn't lie to himself – of course, he was just a convenient tool to handle Sebastian. Anyway, he idolised Ominis like a magizoologist would worship a unique fantastic beast they had just discovered. 

And then Fig died. 

Sitting there, somewhere under Hogwarts, alone, absolutely alone as usual, next to the body of the only person closest to the notion of family Chris had ever had, the boy got mad at himself. 

Why is he so obsessed with others? Why does he still hope so desperately to obtain the illusion of family? To find a magical creature named ‘friend’ from fairytales? Why does he keep hurting himself with shards of shattered hope when he can just be alone and not care about anyone?

Sink or swim. It was always his motto in the orphanage. He was alone, and he always would be. Why did he suddenly start to hope for something else in Hogwarts? Stupid, he was so stupid. It was time to accept it and grow up. 

He had never valued his life. But after Fig had died, Chris started to hate that he was alive and often sneaked out of the castle in the hope that a particular goblin, troll or poacher would become the last.

Too bad he was good at surviving. 

Until that time in the Undercroft. Chris was finally so close to ending this meaningless turmoil. And then Ominis intervened. Of course, The Saint and Noble one had to heal The Loser to be even more perfect. 

But when Ominis was pressing him against the wall and kept yelling at him, Chris realised that the blond wasn't mad because of Chris's disdainful and arrogant attitude. The words that Ominis was spitting into his face weren't the words Chris had expected to hear. 

Ominis was desperate. For some reason, he was really afraid for Chris and valued his life more than Chris himself ever did – not for something, but in spite of everything, as if Chris were someone like Sebastian to him.

After Ominis had left, his words echoed in Chris's ears for a long time as he slid down the wall onto the dirty floor of the Undercroft. The person Ominis cared about? Their friendship? Could it be that Chris had been Ominis's friend all that time? The thought was totally new and shocking for him.

It was hard to believe in it. 

Impossible. 

But doesn’t rage often work like Veritaserum? And Ominis had been mad. He had been so mad that Chris feared that if he had said a word, Ominis would have killed him on the spot and become even madder.

When Hope, the dying creature with broken wings inside of Chris, tried to draw attention to itself, the boy became irritated that he wanted to listen to it again instead of kicking it away. But this new theory was worth investigating. What was he losing? 

Starting to speak with Ominis again was one of the hardest things he had ever done (and he had defeated Ranrok). What if he understood it all wrong and would just impose himself on the blind boy? What if their last interaction had at last destroyed whatever they had had? What if Ominis would just push him away, laughing? But the experiment should be continued. 

The results exceeded Chris’s wildest expectations. Ominis not only accepted him as if nothing had happened and gave him enough time to gather himself together to apologise. For some miraculous reason, Chris felt that Ominis needed his mere presence – not something from him – even when they just sat together next to the fireplace, listening to the quiet song of fire. 

Following the sink-or-swim motto, Chris wasn't used to caring for someone. But now he was ready to give anything at all, only to see Ominis smiling, to make him happy. And every time Chris succeeded, he couldn't be happier himself. He almost forgot that itching desire to find an excuse to risk his life. 

But when he was away, the old doubts began to haunt him. Why would someone so perfect as Ominis want to be around someone like Chris, whose life was just a mess? The guy without a past, broken present, and a future, whose arrival he was endangering. 

The more time he spent away from Ominis, the louder the voice in his head pushed him to do something stupid until it finally got the better of him. 

The incident with ashwinders only cost him one Wiggenweld potion. 

But it was enough to bring back memories of Ominis beating some sense into him in the Undercroft.

No matter what, Ominis wanted him safe. 

Chris had read that “I’d die for you” thing in some books. It didn’t make any sense to him because it didn’t sound like a big deal. He’d die for himself. But when he thought about Ominis’s words echoing around the Undercroft, he realised that for the moon-eyed boy he was ready to make a much more labour-consuming sacrifice. 

He’d live for him.

So Chris had made sure the last incident had been really the last one. 

Anyway, he had missed Ominis deeply, so seeing him today was a relief. But Merlin - the blond looked so tired. 

“You didn’t sleep well recently”, Chris said quietly, slowly running his right thumb under Ominis’s left eye.

That voice, the voice Ominis loved and missed so much, sounded so gentle, so concerned, and so…close. The touch felt like an electric jolt. Ominis’s head was spinning, the heart pounding in his ears and racing so fast, forcing his breathing to quicken, but it was a trap because he inhaled more of Chris’s smell now, and that was the end of Ominis’s composure. 

He reached out his hand and lowered it on Chris’s back of the head. Someone stop him! He ran his fingers through the short strands. That wasn't right! Clinging to the last echoes of reason, Ominis whispered, pulling Chris closer, “Aren’t you going to stand up? Someone might see us and jump to conclus –” 

The door flung open, revealing one of their housemates, a boy with jet-black hair and chocolate eyes, holding a book.

“Hey Ominis, you – ” he broke off. The short pause was followed by a flow of frantic “Sorry!” and the sound of rapidly fading footsteps.

Chris jumped off the couch and glanced at the retreating intruder. That was an impressive running speed, he had to admit. Perhaps they scared the boy even more than he did them. “Like this?” he asked, amused.

“Precisely like this,” Ominis sounded bitter. The warmth, the smell, the weight – everything disappeared, leaving him with his heart beating wildly. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and interlocking his fingers tightly. 

Chris tilted his head, watching the blond. Was Ominis so upset because that boy misinterpreted what he saw? The brunet wouldn’t care about it, but Ominis looked frustrated, which was something to care about. Chris had to fix it. 

”I…I will go and try to find him. Explain that it was a mistake,” he said, trying not to imagine what it would look like. 

Hi buddy! It wasn’t what you think it was. I fell on him. What? No, I normally don’t fall on people like this, so yeah, you’re safe. Chris shook his head. Maybe he would need to come up with a lie that would sound more plausible than the truth. But it was the problem of the future Chris.

“Right,” Ominis simply brought out. Chris was about to leave but suddenly stopped.

“Imissdyu,” he blurted, turning to the couch but averting his minty eyes from the boy on it, even though Ominis couldn't see him.

”I beg your pardon?” Ominis was baffled. If he didn’t know any better, he just heard, “I missed you.” But, of course, he knew better. Phineas Black would sooner smile at students heartily than Chris Mongrel would speak about feelings. 

"I…" It was Chris's turn to grow red even more intensively than Ominis a couple of minutes before. He knew the words were correct – he had read in books about people saying them to each other in similar circumstances, but Chris couldn't bring himself to repeat them. 

"Please, don't make me say it again. You heard it right."

After a short pause, he added, suddenly interested in the stone pattern on the floor, "Can I read to you tonight? I mean, as usual." Then, he would ask why Ominis didn't sleep well.

"I hoped you'd ask this," the blind boy finally smiled. Then, he would ask what made Chris drink the Wiggenweld potion.

“See you later then,” beamed Chris, relieved. He finally looked at the moon-eyed boy and was about to head out when Ominis’s voice stopped him.

“Chris?”

“Mhm?” 

“I missed you, too.” Only Ominis could smile like that – like the warm light of the lamppost sparkling on the snow. “Hear you later.”

“I…khm…yeah…Gotta go.” Chris made a few steps backwards toward the way out, still watching Omins, then turned around and crashed into a doorpost. “They… have to make the doors wider,” he said, leaving.

Ominis chuckled softly, listening to Chris’s fading footsteps. Then, a wave of panic washed over him again as he realised that mere minutes ago he could have ruined everything, succumbing to temptation. He rubbed his face with his palms, exhaling audibly. What was he thinking about? 

But now, everything was right. And tonight he will sleep better. Thank Merlin, the point of no return had not been reached. Or should he say thanks to the student that had broken into their dorm? 

Perhaps that guy will have another visitor today. 

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

The song from the epigraph. I wrote Chris's part while listening to it.

[pikahlua]

Fourteen Days of MHA: Day 7

First Impressions

I've had something of a day, so I couldn't come up with much for this one. But since the topic is first impressions, I kinda felt like this would be the best one to use some unfinished stuff of mine? Stuff that's likely never gonna BE finished. Basically this is an excerpt from one of my write-ups that is a reenactment of my first impressions of Katsuki Bakugou the first time I watched MHA.

[excerpt begins below the cut]

Season 1: Episodes 1-2

I hate shounen rival characters. No really.

I find them repetitive, reductive, and tropey as all hell. They don’t read like real people to me. They don’t make any sense to me. As far as I can tell, they just exist to be difficult, to represent some boiled-down theme of competition that must contradict the protagonist’s perspective for the sake of being a foil. It’s just a mechanism to provide challenges to the protagonist when the storyteller can’t find a way to come up with creative new challenges. They’re all basically the same character with the same personality with the same hangups with the same insecurities with the same “character development,” and if you’ve seen one you’ve seen ‘em all.

Enter Katsuki Bakugou.

This basic bitch.

On principle I hate him. I hate his stupid little smug face. I hate his voice. I hate his goals. I hate what he does and how he thinks.

Actually, hate is too strong a word. Because what I really hate is being subjected to the monotony of another predictable rival/lancer character. So here I am, praying for a sign that there will be some sort of break in this monotony. Please, MHA, prove me wrong.

Okay, not gonna lie, this shot did something to my heart.

Oh? Oh, is he actually insightful? Are we gonna resolve his arrogant shit this soon?

I’m in shock too, Izuku.

...oh.

Oh great. Total slow burn. [heavy sigh]

Heh. Points for the lampshade.

Wait, is this show self-aware?

Season 1: Episodes 3-4

Okay Katsuki clearly took something away from that experience because he is doing the whole anime-boy-staring-out-the-window-in-contemplation thing.

Whatever. Aloof rival alert. Except it’s not an alert because they’re all like that.

Whoa, that escalated quickly!

Oh. He’s just like that. Gotcha.

That’s...actually notable, since “that day” was sometime in April and now it’s February. Okay, something’s definitely up, but I’m just not sure which version of The Rival we’re dealing with here. And maybe if I cared, I’d try to figure it out. But I don’t care enough to stop watching and think about it, so, meh, I’ll let the show tell me when we get there. [/the most naive]

God, I relate too much to both sides of the interaction.

Um. “Friends?” Is that-? Are you implying-?

Are you just a grump?

Oh, okay, I see what’s been up. He’s totally aware of how awesome Izuku is, and he’s jealous or in denial. Understandable, since he wants to be the top hero. Sucks to be the rival, my dude.

Actually, wait, if he’s been aware of Izuku’s greatness since episode 1 or 2, he’s like one of the few characters in this world who seems to get it? Which is...kind of surprising for this early on?

Season 1: Episodes 5-7

Wait, what?

Are you telling me he’s actually hot shit? Fucking great. Ugh.

Oh, oh my god, the show IS self-aware! Oh okay I’m totally here for this shit!

Oh, it’s a CATCHPHRASE.

[end of excerpt]

You already know how it all ends lol.

[meowmeowriley]

@forestshadow-wolf Had asked about Duo Fatui, and you know what? Fuck it! Have what will eventually be the opening to the fic ❤

Ghost and Soap are placed on desk duty for a year after an op gone sideways. They decide to make the best of it.

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" Captain price roared as he stormed into the med bay.

Soap and Ghost were both laid up in separate cots, on either side of the room. Both now stared at him, wide eyed after his outburst.

"Sir," Ghost started but Price was not going to hear him out.

"No! Soap, what the hell were you thinking?!"

"Sir," Soap attempted to speak but Price cut him off as well.

"What the fuck were you thinking, giving a civilian your plate carrier?" Price seethed.

"Sir, he had important intel, we couldn't afford to lose him, and our route to exfil was taking heavy fire." Soap spit out his words quickly, probably to avoid being cut off again.

"Exactly sergeant, heavy fire that you took! You were shot, and you're a hell of a lot more important than some random scientist!" Price could feel his face getting red as he yelled. "And you!" He turned to face Ghost. "Now you're out of commission, because of his bloody fuck up!" He gestured sharply at a pouting Soap.

"We're the same blood type, I wasn't about to lose him over something I could easily help with, Captain." Ghost said flatly. To anyone else it would seem like Ghost was calm, detached even. Price could tell he was holding back his own anger.

Price found himself pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. He wasn't actually angry at them. Soap had saved a man with insanely useful information. Ghost had saved Soap. He was angry that he hadn't been there to protect them himself. He was angry that he almost lost two of the best soldiers there ever were. Two of his men. He was angry that now they were both one kidney lighter. The transplant wouldn't take too long to heal, but the risk of rejection or infection meant he could still lose them. "One year." That garnered confused looks from both men.

"Um, no boss, the surgeon said-" Price cut Ghot off again, further souring the man's mood for sure.

"That the risk of rejection and infection will be significantly reduced after six months. I am placing you both on desk duty for one year, starting the day you get discharged from med bay." A horrified silence filled the room. "I hope you boys can find a way to keep yourselves entertained while Gaz, Roach and I pick up your slack." It may have ben a bit harsh, but he needed them to understand how important their lives were. To the world, to the team. To him. With that, he left the room.

***

"Ah'm sorry, Ghost."

"Shut it, Johnny."

"Ah am though."

"No." Ghost opened his eyes and leaned forward, looking at his hands. After Price had stormed in, ripped them a new one, and stormed out, he had leaned back in his bed and closed his eyes in an attempt to dissuade the rising rage. "If we're sorry, Price wins. That crabbit old man can kiss my arse. We did the right things."

"Hmmm... I have an idea." Ghost finally looked over to Soap again, urging him to continue with his eyes. "We're gonna be stuck on base for a whole year, aye?"

"Aye..." Ghost was unsure where this was going.

"We should do something unhinged, something incredibly stupid and pointless, every day. We'll have some random recruit record it, someone different every day if we can. At the end of the year, we'll play it on a projector in the mess for the whole base to watch." Soap was grinning at him. "Show Price what happens when you bench two of the craziest son's o' bitches in the SAS.'

It felt like a bad idea. Like making a deal with the devil. Like it would at least make the year of bullshit ahead of them go by faster. "I'm listening..."

[lavenderterra]

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐒

𝐁𝐔𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐔𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐃𝐋𝐘 𝐀𝐓 𝐀 𝐊𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐎𝐊𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐑

Content; Absolute floof and chaos

Usage of alcohol

Nothing suggestive

Pre established relationships

Xavier

You had been invited out by Tara for a night of drinking and karaoke after the last influx of Wanderers in the no hunt zone, you were three drinks in, and it was your turn to sing, it did not bother you when you had picked Supernova by Aespa. You were there to have fun anyways right? Though the last person you’d expect to run into on a night like tonight was Xavier. You seemed shocked and he seemed surprised, though he was half asleep (sleepy boy) he had taken a moment to look at you.

“Y/N?” He seemed confused as to why you were grabbing a microphone and why he heard the instrumental to a song he heard through your headphones before while you’ve come back from missions and can’t comprehend words to speak what so ever. [thisboywillliterallyusehisevoltoputonalightshowwhileyoursinging]

“I’m like some kind of supernova.”

You don’t realize he’s there until you notice his evol surrounds you in a pretty light show. Despite how drunk you are you still wander up to him to give him a big hug.

He ends up carrying you home. Good thing you’re neighbours right?

Zayne

Mans was not prepared to see how drunk you were especially when you had chosen to sing Super lady by G-Idle but you wanted to let the stress of your last mission go, and this is how you were going to let off the steam you needed to let off wether you could handle your alcohol or not. “Y/N is there any reason that you’re so inebriated?”

You wave him off before you start singing. “ I am a top Super Lady, I never lose yeah. (‘Cause got a super power) I am a god, super lady” Cue the second hand embarrassment from the doctor, part of him is intrigued though.

Secretly being the little shit he is, he’s filming you so you can witness your drunken shenanigans when you’re hungover. He definitely enjoyed watching you let loose. You are a hunter after all, of course in the end you walked up to Zayne regretting everything you’d had to drink. “Please take me home-“

“Sweetheart, you did this to yourself.”

“So mean.”

Rafayel

Girl you are not living this down, he’s going to embarrass the hell out of you the next day. You two had bumped into each other walking into the bar the same time. You were meeting up with Jenna and Tara and the rest of your hunter squad to celebrate your success on your latest discovery in terms of dealing with Wanderers.

“Y/N is this what you do when you’ve decided not to be my bodyguard” You let out a laugh before speaking slightly. “C’mon me having a little break after killing this last mission? Yeah I’m here to let loose.” You let out a soft smile and its a smile you know he can’t resist because he loves seeing you happy.

He puts his hand on your head before telling you to have fun. You nod before running off where the rounds of shots and soju begin. You’re a very giggly drunk so you’re always laughing.

“Hey Y/N I miiight have put your name in to sing next” Tara had drunkenly admitted which caused you to laugh again before getting up to grab a microphone

Sticky by Kiof had started playing.

Everything was a blur and you had started singing. “How long before we fall in love—“

Raf is already live streaming your drunken antics

Sober you is going to k*ll him.

Sylus

Leaning back in his seat seemingly amused its not often you see the leader of onychinus outside of the n109 zone let alone in the very karaoke bar you frequent. You almost act as if you don’t notice him and the twins watching you.

You feel his amber eyes on you while you’re with your friends but also you notice Mephisto watching you at a distance. You scoff slightly before taking another shot. You got up out of your seat, and made your way over to the white haired male.

“Juuuuust what do you want now?” You huff looking at him. “Sweetie, I’m not sure you’re rambling on about now. I’m just enjoying my night like you are.” You raise an eyebrow before hearing your name called up next to sing.

You turn on your heels before heading toward the stage grabbing a microphone. Were you extremely wasted? Yes. Did you give a damn? No.

Purple Kiss’ Pretty Psycho started playing.

“I’m a freaky Purky.” You spoke into the microphone before beginning the song.

Sylus was amused. Luke and Kieran were filming.

You weren’t living this down.

[thewolfno11-blog-blog]

Read chapter 83, WTF

jefsdhfie.bfvk.esngvnlKkvgnek. EXCUSE ME WHAT?!?!?!. THE HELL DID I JUST READ. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH

*One hour later*

Okay..... I am.... calm now....... what a way to end the Sloth arc. More undercut.

First, thanks, Marco. You literally messed up everything. I know you saw that black halo on my son's head. That's your fault. Pointing fingers aside, it seems our favorite priest has truly fallen. You could clearly see how his miracle was tainted, aside from the fact he attacked his friends and colleagues. Honestly, not quite sure how I feel about that. Damn, the exorcist really did fall. I do feel bad for Leah, Barbara, and Mika though. They never wanted Father-kun to go through all this.

The next arc will probably be Pride. I have heard the theory that Mr. Priest and Lucifer are the same. Personally, I would prefer it if that was not the case. Lucifer is considered the first fallen angel. In the entire manga, there have only been 3 mentions of that demon lord. We do not even know what their deal is. I think it would be more interesting for Father-kun to meet the first person who has fallen and learn from them as he has fallen himself now.

Staying on the topic of demon lords. It's super cool that Leviathan helped Mr.Priest out. I am glad he remembered the offer she gave him. Side note she must be pissed. I mean she raised Imuri as her own daughter so if she ever decides to go after Marco. Hope the dude likes sea burials. She's even mad at Mr.Priest "Took you long enough!!". Girl, give him a break. This arc was about sloth anyway, of course, he had a hard time remembering.

Speaking of sloth. I really want to see Bel's reaction too. Like dude and his boy had a proper goodbye and everything. Like, imagine him having 10 maybe 15 minutes of peace and contentment, only to suddenly sense that his boy is in hell with him. Telling you Belphegor will come running as soon as he finds out.

Another thing that has me really excited is that this coming arc we're spending in Gehenna. In the past, I have mentioned that I wanted an arc to take place in hell and I can't believe it's actually happening. That last shot was so cool and were those dragons?!

But let's not forget page 19. We can fix that, right? Right? RIGHT? God, I don't know what will happen to those two. Come to think of it, did the witches even get a demon lord fragment?

Bro, where do we even go from here? I mean stop Satan? Is that even possible at this point? There is also still Baba Yaga we have to be worried about. Do we search for allies in Gehenna?

I am pretty sure that the only people Mr. Priest knows are the demon lords. Levy and Bel will help out. Mammon is a maybe, if my son can beat that guy in a fight I guess it's possible. Asmodeus is also a maybe I guess. Beelzebub probably not. Although he was disgusted by Satan's plan, so maybe. Don't count on it though. If this was all part of his plan, the dude is really shrewd.

Man at this point. Can my son even get a happy ending?

[jeewrites]

Hold Fast | Ch. 7 Coffee & Donuts

Rating: Mature for chapter (Series is Explicit, this blog is 18+ MDNI)

Summary: It's a rainy day and Frankie is bummed about everything going on with his ex-wife Vanessa and the impending change to the custody agreement. You convince Frankie to go with you for some coffee and treats. Reader has a car named Blue.

A/N: Thank you to everyone who's still reading the series! Life things, grief things, a lot happened since the last update, but I am going to see this series through with Sweets and Frankie. (I've actually written the last chapter believe it or not, but I just need to uh, get them there!) Thank you always for being the best beta @bloviating-vy <3

Word Count: 1.5k (it's mostly fluff y'all)

Chapter Tags/Warnings: TF AU, no y/n, fictional description of custody arrangements, aggressive driving, brief mention of wedding/anniversaries/honeymoon, Tom owns a bar called Redfly's, Pope owns a gym, alternating POV

Series Masterlist

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It seems like everyone has the same idea as you, crowding into the latest ‘it’ coffee shop, a warm beacon on this grey, drizzly day. Scrunched together at a two-top you could see the noise and crowd grating Frankie’s already low mood, despite the six shots of espresso over ice cradled in his hand. He picks at the pain au chocolate you’re sharing.

“You gonna pick out all the chocolate and just leave the pastry for me?” you joke, trying to lighten the mood.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, slouching back into his chair and taking a large gulp of his coffee. It is a damn miracle he is not vibrating out of his seat into another dimensional plane. Six fucking shots of espresso.

“Hey,” you say softly, placing your hands over his. “It’s going to work out. Might be hell for a bit, but we’ll get through it. I'm here for you, okay?”

Frankie perks up at the we. He hadn’t said it in so many words but you could tell the custody change demands from Vanessa were stressing him out on so many fronts. It was frustrating enough strategizing with his lawyer, not to mention his worry about being enough for Gabi, doing a good job as a dad, and the thought of juggling full-time custody along with his job. But also how it would impact your relationship. Despite the reassurances you'd given him that you considered him and Gabi a packaged deal, you knew he still harbored doubts, plagued by insecurity.

When someone jostles you hard enough to nearly spill your coffee, you abruptly stand up. The coffee and pastries are doing shit all to improve his mood, but you still have one trick up your sleeve.

“C’mon, let’s go,” you declare, chucking the half-mangled pastry into the trash. The poor lamination of the dough didn’t make this one worth saving. Frankie slams the rest of his espresso and shuffles towards the door behind you.

Even though you’re driving, Frankie hustles over to open the car door for you before sliding in on the passenger side. You know how defeated he’s feeling when he hadn’t insisted on driving this morning. Frankie always wants to drive.

Frankie quirks an eyebrow at you when leaving the shopping center, turning away from the direction of his house. You just shoot him a cheeky wink as you continue driving in comfortable silence. Trundling along in no particular hurry.

Eventually, you pull into the completely deserted student parking lot at the local high school. Puddles dot occasional parking spots and the air is thick with moisture. It’s no longer raining outside but the clouds hang heavy, occasionally spitting, threatening to pour again. You gently pull to a stop near one corner of the lot and grab your phone. He’s not sure what you’re looking for as you scroll through your music app and the car idles.

You finally look at him with a shy smile as you click your phone back into its holder. “You trust me, Frankie?”

“Umm, as long as you’re not about to murder me and dump my body in the ditch over there, baby,” Frankie responds looking around with hesitant but soft eyes, open to whatever you are trying to do to cheer him up.

“Awesome,” you exclaim, perking up, caffeine pumping through your veins. You flip off the A/C and traction control and hit play on your music app. Classical music starts to build on the car’s stereo system. “Hang on!”

You floor it.

Frankie is pretty sure you threw the car directly into second gear, screaming down the long side of the parking lot before executing a perfect pendulum turn around one of the light poles. Whipping the rear of the car around before accelerating towards the middle of the lot and pulling the e-brake briefly, deftly maneuvering the steering wheel before stomping on the gas. Your car dances with you in beautiful arcing donuts. Exiting the last revolution, you rev the engine, before charging towards another light pole at the far end of the parking lot. The tires squeal as you drift around the light pole and floor it again. Frankie’s gripping the oh-shit bar with his right hand as his left presses into the roof of the car. He can’t even let out a yelp as you punch the gas and the air out of his lungs.

He has enough of his wits about him to count the revolutions in the next set of donuts, an impressive 1440 degrees before power sliding around the perimeter of the parking lot for good measure. It suddenly occurred to him why you had red tape marking the 12 o'clock on your steering wheel. You finally drift the car to a stop in the middle of the lot.

You look over and grin at Frankie, looking far too much like a Benny grin, before asking him, “How ya feeling now, baby?” You reach over to take a sip of your coffee, not a drop spilled in the chaos. You eye him with such innocence as if you didn't just pull the ridiculous stunt you just did.

“Uh…” Frankie lets out a hiccuped laugh, still clutching the grab handle, slowly lowering his left hand from the roof. Adrenaline and caffeine coursing through his body, fizzing and sparking up his esophagus that escapes into a giggle?!? Perhaps six shots of espresso was a bit excessive. He feels a slow smile spread across his face, grinning like a maniac back at you, surprised, amused, touched at your antics to cheer him up.

“Better,” he punches, all air and no menace, trying to hold in more unruly giggles.

“Hmm, that's a no,” you smirk at him before pedaling the gas a few times, looking for any sign he wanted you to stop. When he continues grinning at you, you throw the car in reverse, dancing with the e-brake, clutch, and gas pedal, whipping donuts in reverse, once, twice, before throwing it into first and gunning it to drift figure eights around the light posts. The car slips and slides across the wet pavement, the smell of rubber and rain thick in the air, as you maneuver the car with absolute focus and control.

Frankie’s better prepared this time, enough to appreciate your agility and skill as you work, dance really, with your car. It is sort of like a dance, Vivaldi’s music swirling up and up, crescendoing, as you spin the car faster and faster. He lets out a whoop and you smile, alert eyes on the road, before letting one out yourself. As the song crests and falls, you powerslide the car around a light pole and cruise to a stop, allowing the car to idle, breathing heavily from wrangling all that torque and excitement.

“Better?” You glance at him again, eyes playful and sweet.

He grins wide this time, “Yeah, baby, much better. Always better with you.”

You reach out and slide your warm hand into his, squeezing lightly. “Good.” You pause for a moment before adding quietly, “Thanks for trusting me.”

“You know what would make it even better?” He smirks, dimples dancing, eyes bright again.

“What’s that?”

“Let me drive.”

You jerk your hand back from his and playfully shove him, “FRANCISCO MORALES. Blue is MY baby. Only I get spin her like this.”

Frankie knows better, but he presses you anyway with pouty lips and puppy dog eyes.

“Absolutely not, Morales. Maybe, maaaybe after we’ve celebrated our 5th wedding anniversary, THEN you can drive her.” Your eyes widen in panic at the slip of the word wedding. You hadn’t talked about the M word yet.

Frankie furrows his brows in mock seriousness and he can see your panic rise, worried he may have taken it the wrong way.

“How about after the honeymoon?” he negotiates, his voice like a purr. He knows what he's doing. You release a nervous giggle that sets Frankie off, laughter bubbling up from his throat until you’re both cackling with tears until one of you snorts. It was definitely you.

“First anniversary,” you giggle back, hiccuping and wiping away happy tears.

“Deal.”

You shake on it, but instead of releasing your hand, he pulls you in closer for an espresso-laced kiss.

When he finally pulls back, cupping your chin between his thumb and index finger, your soft eyes search him before asking, “You really feel better?”

“Yeah.” He offers a warm, touched smile. He tilts your chin up to him as he presses one more chaste kiss on your lips.

“Wanna dance one more time before we go home?” You arch one eyebrow, one hand on the steering wheel, one hand on the shifter.

Home.

“Hell yeah,” Frankie grins back at you. He thinks maybe you have an inkling, and know how everything is better in his life when you’re there. He’s already home. You’re his home.

Frankie hits play on your music app. As Vivaldi resumes over the speakers you launch Blue down the parking lot, full throttle, tires screaming, a blue streak of rubber and rain.

End Note: The song Sweets puts on is Vivaldi's Winter from The Four Seasons. She hits the gas at the 0:40 mark.

Example of Pendulum Turn Handbrake Turning in Rally Driving

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