#i can feel my molecules changing . its doing shit to me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ereawrites · 4 years ago

Text

Dick Grayson x Reader - Mania

this was requested by: anon

word count: 10.5k / rating explicit

a/n: sex pollen so auto dubcon (?), but both reader and dick are affected so idk

taglist: @daddyissuesmademe @idkmanicantenglish

It's your fault, really. You should never have got involved in the first place, but the temptation was just too great to resist. How could you pass up the opportunity to investigate Poison Ivy's pollen? This was the first decent sample any of you had ever managed to get - even Bruce, though you suspect there have been a few times he's managed to get up close and personal with the pollen - and normally Tim would handle it, but he's away on business with Bruce, and Damian's too young to deal with intensive research, and Jason just can't bring himself to care. So, that left Dick, and you could've left it at that. You should have. Then again, Tim did text you to recommend that you helped Dick: actually, you would never have left your room if it hadn't been for his intervention. It's Tim's fault.

The thing is, everything was fine at first; you've, perhaps, been harbouring the slightest crush on Dick for a while now, and it's always nice to spend time with him. He's fun to be around, even if his classic charm sometimes borders on teasing flirtation, and he's got such an incredible mind. You forget that, at times - he has a bad habit of putting himself down as the 'kind one' of the family, the emotional support or the comic relief, and he forgets to let himself be brilliant, too. He doesn't realise you've noticed that. Or maybe he does, but he doesn't say anything, and you've happily spent the past two hours studying Ivy's pollen together.

"It's definitely pheromonal, but I've never seen a chemical composition like this before-", you say, eyes glued to the computer screen. Dick is leaning over the back of your chair, one hand on your shoulder and one hand on the desk beside you, and you shouldn't feel as tense as you do. "-look, this section doesn't occur naturally in any species we've seen. She's synthesising these pheromones somehow, it's not like she's injecting them, but I just - I don't get how."

He pushes off from the desk, grabs the back of your chair, and spins you to face him with a half-smile. "I hate to break your train of thought, but I think we need a biochem specialist.", he says, and you suddenly notice how tired he looks: his eyes are still vibrant, warm, but exhausted. "We've done as much as we can on this, right? No shame in calling in the big guns."

"Tim?", you reply, knowingly, relishing in the way Dick's smile grows into a full grin. He's still gripping the edges of your chair, effectively caging you in: you are not looking at his arms, and you can be certain of this because you are looking very, very intently at his face.

"Having a genius brother has its perks, I know. I'll call him now. It's late in Tokyo - he won't be in a meeting, he'll probably just be awake in his hotel room, tapping away at his laptop.", Dick says, finally moving away to fetch his phone, and his voice trails off into a mumble that he clearly doesn't mean for you to hear. "God, he worries me. He really does."

It's much too warm in here: you sigh, and shrug off your jacket, slinging it over the back of the computer chair before calling out,"You're such a mother hen sometimes, Dick."

"I care. Sue me.", he replies with a faux scowl. "You don't complain when you're ill and I bring you hot soup."

"You're a good cook, what can I say?"

"Husband material!", he chirps. You feel your stomach leap and your cheeks heat up at his words. He's only teasing, but the truth of it is, it has more effect on you than you would like to admit. Thankfully, he's quickly distracted by the crackle of Tim picking up the phone. "Timmy! How's things?"

Tim's voice is dry, as always, but with a noticeable undercurrent of frustration. "Shit. I hate it here."

"Hey, Tim. Bad day?", you say with sympathy. You feel a little bad for bothering him, now; as hard as everyone in the family works, Tim definitely pushes himself the hardest.

"I'm the youngest person here by at least twenty years, and my stomach can't handle sushi. Plus, Bruce gets separation anxiety from the rest of you. The one upside is that I've been able to practice my Japanese.", Tim replies. You feel bad for him, of course, but the image of him having to comfort a homesick Bruce has you suppressing a snicker.

Dick shoots an amused smile at you - he's too beautiful when he smiles, it isn't fair - that starkly contrasts the comforting tone he uses to respond to Tim. "Don't worry, darling brother - I've got something exciting for you! Check your emails - wait, only the most recent one, though, I sent you a link to a Red Hood fanpage-"

You interject with an accusatory wave of your finger. "Why the fuck didn't you send me that? Red Hood is sexy." If Jason were here, he would probably threaten to shoot you, but as it is, Dick's amusement only grows. His smile is so infectious, like it spirals out into the air and right into your chest, and you can't help but smile back at him. You don't know if it's the warmth of the room or simply from Dick himself, but you feel as though you're going to need to step outside for some fresh air soon.

"Because of your raging crush on Nightwing, probably." Tim cuts in, and you could fucking kill him. Dick gives you a pleased wink. "I'm looking at a pheromonal compound, right? Ivy's special formula?"

You muster as much venom into your voice as you can, without pissing Tim off so much that he leaves you to deal with this on your own. "Fuck you, Tim - and yeah. It's a newer version, though - I think she's evolving, if that makes sense? Her physiology is definitely changing." Tim gives a thoughtful hum in response to your words: you imagine it's in agreement.

Dick continues your train of thought. "We think she's working with someone else, or she's been experimenting on herself, maybe. Do you have any ideas about how she's making the new chemicals?"

"I'll need a few hours. Send me all the data over. You're right about it evolving, though - it's definitely airborne. Shit, this is actually really interesting - the molecules are more compact, smaller, so she doesn't need to rely on physical touch through her plants anymore-"

The rest of Tim's words are lost to a wave of horror. Airborne, he said - you'd doubt it if it wasn't for the similar shock that's written over Dick's face - and you have not been treating this sample as airborne. Ivy has always relied on physical, tangible contact to use her chemicals: you couldn't have known, there was no way you could've known, neither of you are experts on this kind of thing - you've fucked up.

"Airborne? How... airborne are we talking? Like, don't-sniff-the-test-tube?", Dick asks, cautiously, maintaining eye contact with you all the while. *Please, God, let it be don't-sniff-the-test-tube and nothing more than that. Please.*

"Shit, you haven't been wearing respirators - have you?". Tim sounds positively horrified. It does nothing to allay your fears, the worries that you've both been infected with Ivy's pollen; in fact, he all but confirms it. Everything is beginning to fall into place now. The tension around Dick - more so than usual, at least -, how warm you're feeling, the mental sluggishness that had you calling Tim in the first place.

You're angry at yourself, for your own stupidity - not Tim, but you're panicked, you're so unbelievably freaked out, and so you can't help but snap at the phone. "How were we meant to know, man? Ivy's never even hinted at having something of this level before!"

"You're working with chemicals, unknown chemicals, I hate-"

Dick cuts in before this can turn into a full-on confrontation. You've got no idea how he's managing to keep a level head. Perhaps the pheromones are already taking a more severe effect, or maybe it's a placebo effect, and you pray that it is, but you can already feel your heart beginning to pound against the confines of your chest. "It's just pheromones, right? We know it's not toxic, at least - Ivy's victims only take a few days to come around, at most. They're just kinda fucked up for a few days."

You admire Dick so, so much. He's right, he's always right, he always manages to keep you calm and make you feel safe: you'll just have to stay with him, and you'll be okay. If you stay here, he can comfort you, and maybe the impacts of the pollen won't even be that bad. And, if they are, well, there's no one else in the manor tonight, and Dick's so handsome and kind and strong, and maybe he'll - fuck.

Tim snickers. "Fucked, indeed. Only when Ivy's in a good mood, though. You guys better get ready for a tough night. I've heard it can get really bad, especially if you're deprived of - oh, fuck, I can't talk about this, this is too funny but it's so weird, oh my god-", and he dissolves into a fit of awkward, stunted laughter. Dick fixes you with an apologetic look, but you swear his golden cheeks are tinged with red.

"How long until it kicks in?", he asks. It's a stupid, stupid question, because you feel like you're close to dying already. You know what he means, though: when will it get bad? You've seen Ivy's victims before. They're entirely without dignity, practically begging to be touched, sobbing from the pain of it all - and you've only heard rumours about the depraved things they let Ivy do to them. What they ask her to do to them.

The huff of Tim's breath crackles through the phone. "Uh - I don't know, maybe an hour? A little less, since Bruce never opens the windows in there. Just seal the sample up, drink plenty of water, and try not to freak out. It'll pass. You won't die."

///

You thought you could do it - stay in your room, deal with this alone, avoid any potential awkwardness with Dick -but you can't. It's barely been an hour. Sixty-seven minutes since you left the cave, to be exact. Sixty-seven minutes since Dick grabbed you by the waist to halt your speedy departure, touch light but insistent, and said if you need anything, come to me. His eyes were dark when he said it. Deep, dark blue, an ocean that you could get lost swimming in; but pupils already dilating, breath already speeding up. He meant it as nothing more than a kindness. Still, though, that hasn't been enough to stop you from coming onto your fingers with the image of those eyes burned onto the backs of your eyelids.

Ivy's pollen is designed to induce lust, yes, but only for the first person you see after you're infected with it. This means two things: firstly, that you need Dick more than anything right now. Your head is pounding, your lungs feel like they're on fire - the sensation between your legs isn't aching, it's agony, and you've spent fifty-two of the past sixty-seven minutes trying, and failing, to fool your body into believing that your fingers are his. The first thing you know, is that you need him, because you saw him right after you were infected. The second thing you know - there was no one else in that room. You were the only person Dick could have seen.

So, stupidly, you seek him out. You go back down to the cave, without even taking the time to wash your hands, because that's what your body is telling you to do, and you're acting more and more on instinct. Potential awkwardness be damned. He'll fix this.

Dick's facing away from you, reclined in the computer chair: his posture seems almost relaxed, just almost, legs sprawled out and left elbow visibly sticking out from around the back of the chair, like he's got one hand close to his head. You'd assume he was still looking at the computer, if you weren't so hyperaware of everything right now, but you are, and you notice more. From what you can see of his body - it's low-blue-lit from the computer screen, enough that you can make out the muscle of his legs through his sweatpants if you squint, but it's not enough, you need to see more - he seems tense. Too tense. Normally, you'd sneak closer, but your head is practically spinning now and Dick will help you. He'll make this better. Your voice is hoarse and dry when you manage to call his name.

He immediately jolts in his seat, spinning to face you, and now that he's backlit by the computer, you can barely see more than the outline of his body. God, he looks so lean, so tall - "Are you okay?", he asks, and he sounds almost as bad as you feel. You swallow thickly before responding - and, through the fog in your head, you realise that your jacket is clutched in his left hand.

You, miraculously, manage a weak smile. "I just - I thought maybe it would, you know, be better to... be together, during this. In case - if one of us needs help, or something. I don't know.". You sound stupid. Dumb. You feel it, too, and you can't even bring yourself to care. The mere sight of him is helping: it doesn't remove the pain, or any of the physical sensations, really, but at least the panic of not being near him is being soothed.

"That's - yeah, okay. How are you feeling?", Dick replies. His voice is barely more than a whisper, but you hear it as clear as if he were right up against you. Chest pressed to your back, lips on the curve of your jaw, that voice going right through you and into the pits of your stomach.

It's wrong, to think of him like this, when all he's doing is trying to check that you're alright. He knows you aren't, but he's trying.

The best thing you can think to do is make a weak attempt at a joke. "I've got a newfound fear of Ivy." Dick even huffs out a laugh, but it's just as half-hearted as your words. "I didn't think it was going to be this bad at first, Jesus - but it keeps getting worse, and, it just-"

"-it hurts. I know.". Dick nods. As you take a step closer to him, you realise that your eyes have finally adjusted to the relative darkness of the cave, and you realise that you can see his cock straining against his sweatpants. He's hard. What's more, there's a distinct wet patch leaking through the material.

When you entered the cave, you couldn't see one of his hands; the chair wasn't moving enough for him to be stroking himself, and you're not sure whether you're glad he wasn't, but now that you think of it, there was definite movement. Like he was palming himself through his sweatpants, maybe. And the hand that was close to his head, it's clutching your jacket, he was holding your jacket close to his face while he-

"Dick - were you...?"

He sighs, halfway between embarrassed and resigned, and sinks back down into the computer chair. He keeps your jacket clenched in a white-knuckle grip. "I had to take the edge off somehow, right? I'm sorry, I didn't think you would be coming back down here, I never meant to make you uncomfortable or anything-"

"I'm not uncomfortable.", you blurt out before you know what you're saying. Dick's expression visibly shifts - you don't have the mental clarity to figure out into what, exactly - but you can feel your own eyes widen as you process the implications of what you just said. "Oh, fuck - I didn't mean it like that, I - sorry."

Dick just shakes his head. He must mean for you not to worry. You stand in silence for a while, not exactly awkward but certainly thick with tension, before he pats a hand onto the desk beside him. "God, this is worse than I thought. Do you wanna come sit down?"

Do you? Although being closer to Dick sounds like the only thing you want in the world right now - god, you can't help but think about how good he would look, if you were close enough to really study him, now that you're beyond giving a fuck about etiquette - you're also acutely aware of how difficult it'll be to control yourself. Undeniably, you want him. You've wanted him for months, really - but the pollen has taken that desire and multiplied it tenfold, made it so that it's all-consuming and painful. In your room, nothing more than imagining him, it was bad enough. Now, now that you can see his fucking cock, now that the image of him rubbing himself with a blissed-out look on his face, it's almost impossible to control.

You move to sit next to him. You can't help yourself. Once you start moving, you feel like it's all in slow-motion: Dick's watching you, dark eyes trained so closely on your form, and you're wearing nothing more than a tight-fitting pair of leggings and a thin t-shirt. After what feels like an age - too long to be apart from him - you reach the desk, and upon clumsily perching yourself on it, you see Dick looking as though he's about to pass out.

"Fuck, did I - did I do something wrong? I'm sorry-", you say hastily, but he instantly shakes his head and trains his eyes on yours. The blue is nearly gone. It's all blown-out pupils now, so much that his eyes are nearly black.

He licks his lips as if to wet them. "-no, no, but - when you were in your room - when you were alone - did you do anything to take the edge off? Did you touch yourself?"

You could say no, if you wanted to. You could lie. He would know, but he wouldn't press it, and you could save yourself the shame. For all that Dick must be struggling just as much as you are, he's exceedingly kind, so much that no amount of fucked-up drugs could change that: he's still your Dick, underneath all of this.

"Yeah.", you admit after a heartbeat, and your stomach lurches when you see his cock twitch through the sweatpants. Still, you're embarrassed, and you feel the need to explain yourself just a little. "It felt like my skin was on fire unless I did. It still feels like that, though - like it just wasn't enough, I guess."

"I can smell it on you.", Dick says lowly. Oh, God. That's hot. That's so, unbelievably hot - especially when you see his cock twitch again - but absolutely mortifying. You're torn between wanting to jump on him, right here and now, and retreating back to your room. You compromise by burying your face in your hands, and letting out a pathetic whine to signal how fucked-up you are right now. Maybe you can calm down, now that you don't feel on the verge of a panic attack from being away from him, if you take a few deep breaths.

Naturally, Dick hardly gives you the chance. You feel his hand come to rest on your knee out of nowhere; it's a gentle touch, but you can feel him trembling, and the touch sends a bolt of electricity through you that's strong enough to make you jolt. "I want to help you. The whole point of these pheromones is to make it so that you need touch - it only hurts because we're not getting that. So, I can-", he says raspily, punctuating the pause with a reassuring squeeze to your lower thigh, "-touch you, just... platonically, if that's what you want. What you need."

His voice drops down an octave with the last sentence - you whine again, involuntarily, but you just about manage to turn the sound into words.

"Dick, you don't have to - we can just push through this, I know it'll be uncomfortable for you - I mean, I know it's not like we haven't hugged and stuff before, but this is different, I don't want you to feel forced because you feel bad for me."

Dick must lean forward, closer to you, because his palm slides further up your thigh. The pain that prickles insistently under your skin is beginning to turn into fiery heat: not unpleasant, but desperate, hot, and you're starting to feel like you're not going to be able to stop if he asks you to touch him. "I don't feel bad for you.", he insists, reaching up with his free hand to peel your hands away from your eyes. He curls his fingers around yours as he continues. "I just want to make you feel better - both of us feel better. See, it's already helping, right? Just relax. This is bad enough as it is."

His thumb starts to trace circles on the inside of your thigh. It's nowhere near high enough to be considered sexual, but the movement has your legs almost trembling. You wonder if he can feel the tension of your muscles. "It's... it doesn't hurt anymore. Thank you.". And, technically, you're not lying: it doesn't hurt, in fact it feels fucking incredible. You spent fifty-two minutes trying to replicate this sensation. He's only touching your thigh, it has no business feeling this good, but each little beat of his thumb has waves of pleasure crashing through you. God, how good would it feel to fuck him like this? You're shaking, and you know it, and it only makes him tug you by the hand to stand up.

Even the loss of his touch on your thigh feels devastating, but Dick's next words are more comfort than you could have imagined possible. "Here. Come sit, if you want.", he says - whispering again, voice so low and so deep, but it's just the effects of the pollen, you tell yourself - and gestures to his thigh. "You can lean back into me, don't worry, it'll be better for your back."

This has to feel as good for him as it does for you. Logically, it has to. You've both breathed in the same pollen, his skin has the same sheen of sweat that you can feel on your own skin, you're both trembling in every part of your body, and he's still rock hard. You can feel yourself leaking, god, enough that it might have dampened your leggings and left a wet spot on the desk. What would Dick do, if he saw that? He's clearly turned on, but maybe he still has the good sense to avoid fucking: maybe his view of you as 'just platonic' is so deeply ingrained, he would never touch you down there to feel how wet he's made you. Or, maybe he wants you like you want him.

"Are - are you sure?", you stammer. You can't stop looking at his lap. His cock, painfully obvious (and he mustn't care, because he blatantly drew your attention to it), and the corded muscle of his thighs, spread out straight to form you a perch.

"Mhmm...", he hums from somewhere deep in his chest, and suddenly you're grateful that he's still holding your hand, because the sound almost makes your knees buckle. He tugs gently. "Only if you want to be close to me, though."

He says that like an afterthought - like he knows exactly what you want, and like he's hungry for your touch and doesn't want to consider the idea that you don't want to give him it. You can't bring yourself to look at him before you move to sit in his lap, because you know he'll see the desire, and for now, you're still pretending that you don't want to push him down in that chair and ride him for hours. He'd like that, you think. He'd like it if you pulled his hair while you did it.

Dick lets go of your hand so he can take your waist in both hands, guiding you down onto his lap and gripping harder when your ass inadvertently brushes over his cock. You don't mean to do it, of course, and you jump like you've been shocked: you shuffle further down his thigh to avoid another mishap, but the movement causes your pussy to just barely drag against the hard muscle - you hardly manage to control your moan, forced to sink your teeth into your lip. Thankfully, Dick doesn't seem to notice, and he helps you lean back so his chest is pressed to your back, before lifting his arms to rest on the armrests. From here, he begins to rub soothing lines up and down your arms, and he tips his cheek down to rest against your shoulder with a relieved sigh.

"Fuck, that... yeah, that feels better.", you practically gasp. Feeling him pressed up against the entire length of your body, as torturous as it is, is the most relief you've gained all evening; his legs are shaking just enough that you can feel it in your core, though, and you're forced to tilt your head back to rest on his shoulder. You'll lose your fucking mind if you don't start to relax, he's right.

With your neck exposed, though, you can feel Dick's hot breath tickling your skin when he speaks. "Good, right? It feels good?". For the first time, you really hear the tension in his voice. So much so that you can't pass it off as your own projections, or a trick of his tone - he's just as desperate as you are, holy shit, he sounds halfway to begging, he sounds like he's dying to know that his touch is making you feel good. Your hips twitch of their own accord.

"Yeah... Dick?", you whisper after a few moments. He nods in response against your shoulder, a slow, dragging movement that feels like honey dripping through your veins from the point of contact. "Are you really warm, too, or like - is that just me? I - I feel like I'm burning up... Do you mind if I..." - you trail off, instead opting to tug cautiously at the hem of your shirt.

He sucks in a deep, rapid breath that you feel press against your back. For a moment, you worry that you've gone too far - it feels so good, but it's too weird, too strange for him even now - but then he slowly curls his fingers around the hem, replacing your own hands, and starts to pull upwards at a torturous pace. His knuckles drag over your lower abdomen for just a second and your hips twitch again, and he definitely felt it this time but he says nothing, and his breathing is warm and fast against the skin of your neck; with the shirt discarded, you're left in nothing more than a thin bra. Although the room feels warm, furnace-hot, you're all too aware of the blatant hardness of your nipples, and you tell yourself it's okay, he won't notice, because you're facing away and he won't - his palm drags against your breast on the way back down and it feels so good, too good, and you can't help but whimper, "Fuck, yes-"

Three things happen in quick succession. Dick freezes, you realise what you've done and move to jump up and run for the hills, and then Dick grabs your hips and pulls you back into him, right over his cock, this time. The friction makes both of you let out a breathy sigh, but where you clap a hand over your mouth, Dick follows it up with a hoarse proposition. "I can touch you properly, if you want. It'll make all this go away, I promise - do you want me to?", he rasps, pressing one, quick kiss to the skin where your neck meets your shoulder. "Do you want me to touch you?"

His grasp on your hips is tight, wanting, but gentle enough that you know he wouldn't stop you if you tried to leave again. When you make no move to do so - you're frozen, you can't believe he's just offered to do what your body is screaming for - Dick pulls at your hips, slowly, dragging your ass over his cock and then pushing you back down. He repeats the motion a few times, rolling his own hips up into you a little more with each motion, and soon your muscles start to work so you can grind down onto him. Dick rewards you with a quiet moan - oh, you want him to do that again, you're going to make him do that again, louder and louder - and then, with a touch so light you could cry, he traces one hand over your hipbones and down to your pussy.

One finger traces your slit through your leggings, and you hear yourself moan, but you're hardly aware of making the noise - just this simple touch feels almost as good as the orgasm you had earlier, even just this feather-light pressure through two layers of fabric, and every nerve ending in your body sets alight at once. This is what you needed, more than anything, for Dick to touch you and drag you down onto his cock, and you're so overwhelmed that every muscle in your body goes lax, leaving you to collapse into his chest.

Dick rubs gently at your pussy a few more times, like he's exploring you, and then suddenly he taps right where your clit is. You cry out, and he sighs against your neck. "God, I can feel how wet you are already. You should have told me, I would've done something sooner, you know that - fuck, you're so wet, let me - let me finger you, huh? Please?"

"Yeah - please, Dick.", you whine, and when you say his name, he moans and shoves his cock up against you again. He mumbles something into your skin that you don't quite make out, and then his hand is fumbling with your waistband, clumsily slipping into your underwear and then he's there, his fingers are brushing right against your clit, you sob out a broken cry - you're so wet that his fingers brush right through your folds, gliding like silk, and by the time he reaches your hole, two fingers easily sink in right to the knuckle.

Your pussy instantly clenches down, hard, and you feel more full than you thought could be possible. Dick moans into the skin of your neck and gives you a moment to calm down, to soothe the desperate jolting of your hips, before he starts to pump his fingers; slowly, at first, but soon picking up into a faster and more urgent pace. With each movement, he scissors his fingers a little, spreading you wider every time, and he starts to mouth at your neck with hot, wet kisses. "Do you like that, yeah? Am I making you feel good? Is this what you need?"

You fling an arm behind you to grasp at his hair, and when you tug after a particularly delicious curl of his fingers, he bites down hard onto your shoulder. "Fuck, yes, yes - please don't stop, please, Dick, don't stop-"

"I'm not going to stop, don't worry, I've got you - I'm here, I'm not gonna stop, you sound too pretty for me to stop, fuck - I knew you would sound pretty, keep making those noises for me."

Your body feels like it's going through the most intense orgasm of your life, especially now that he's given up on pumping his fingers in favour of curling them in rapid beats against your g-spot, but you know that you're not even coming yet: you're close, though, judging by the way the room is spinning around you, and the pressure building in the pit of your stomach - "I think I'm close, Dick, - oh, oh, oh my god, I don't - it's never felt like this before, I don't - fuck-"

"I know, I know, baby-", he croons, and the pet name has you tugging at his hair again, the other hand white-knuckled on the armrest, "-it's okay, it's gonna feel different - it's gonna feel better, I promise, it's going to be so good, I'm going to get you there, baby, come on."

"Fuck - fucking - Jesus, Dick, keep going, just like that-!", you all but shout, and Dick continues the massaging movement right up on your g-spot: the positioning of his hand means the heel of his palm is dragging over your clit, and your hips are frantically grinding up into his hand - god, you're gonna come, the world feels like it's crashing down around you, you feel the contractions start a few seconds before it actually hits you and it's going to be earth-shattering, you know it, every muscle in your body tenses up and through it all you hear Dick whispering, come on, that's it, I've got you, come on, come on, and then you're coming-

Distantly, you can feel his fingers continue their movements inside of you, unrelenting - and the other hand keeps a firm grip on your hips, grounding you onto his lap - but other than that, all you know is the white-flash across your vision and the pleasure slamming into each nerve in your body, one by one and then all at once: this is better than anything you've ever felt, better than every orgasm put together, and it feels feels for a moment like you're actually going to black out from the sheer intensity of the pleasure.

Then, suddenly, you're back in reality. Dick is heaving for breath against your shoulder, but it's nothing compared to the way your own lungs are screaming for air - god, you think you were screaming, given the scratching sensation in your throat - and his fingers are back to a slow, steady pumping, in and out of your swollen pussy. It hurts, a little, but this one orgasm has done nothing to sate your desperate hunger: in fact, it's only made it worse, only increased your desire for him, and you swear his cock is impossibly harder against your ass now.

"You - you're dripping onto my hand, baby, oh my god...", Dick pants, and there's a heartbeat where neither of you move - then, you feel his breath hitch, and suddenly his other hand is shoving unceremoniously under your waistband and going straight for your clit. He picks up the pace with the two fingers still inside you, matching each curl with a flick over your clit, and the motions are all so frenzied, those of a man possessed with some ravenous desire, like his one purpose is to have you writhing in his lap, and you give a wordless cry - too overcome with blinding pleasure to actually make a sound - that allows you to hear his ragged words. "Please, give me another one, one more - I want to make you squirt this time, it's going to be so good, I promise, just give me one more, pretty girl-"

This time, it's not just one wave of pleasure, spreading from your core and emanating outwards; no, it's wave after wave after wave, violently crashing over you and completely overcoming every part of your body, unrelenting and constant - this one lasts at least twice as long as the last, but you're hardly in the right state of mind to keep track of time, and every wave of pleasure that rushes through you is tenfold stronger than the last. You hear yourself shriek his name in the most pathetic, broken tone, and Dick cages you in against his body as best as he can as he keeps both hands working at your pussy, and you realise you're sobbing when he finally, finally stops.

When his fingers slip out of your pussy and exit your leggings, they're dripping wet. Dick audibly gasps, and then he brings his fingers to his mouth and sucks, moaning around the digits, and through hazy eyes you can see the most fucked-out look on his face just at the taste of your cum. He licks his fingers clean - you feel your pussy clench down again at the sight - before opening his eyes, fixing you with an intense stare, and panting, "You taste so fucking good - baby, I'm not going to be able to stop, I'm sorry, I need this, I need to fuck you - please."

He's asking permission, you realise. Neither of you are in control of what you're doing anymore, and he's still asking, as best as he can, if he's allowed to fuck you. There's a terrified look in his eyes, behind the frenzy and the lust - you clumsily crash your lips against his. He tastes of your juices, but it's one of the hottest things you've ever experienced, and he moans openly into your mouth, eagerly meeting your tongue with his own. You're exhausted, but kissing him renews your energy tenfold. You're suddenly overcome with the urge to feel his cock - inside you, yes, but you want to see it first, you want to make him cry out and moan and gasp for you - so you manoeuvre in his lap, keeping your mouth against his, to straddle his narrow hips and face him.

"Ah - ah, god, that feels amazing.", Dick moans, broken up between sloppy kisses, saliva starting to drip down both of your chins - but it's hot, so hot - as you frantically reach down to palm at him. The instant you finally touch his cock, you're gone: there's no stopping now that you can feel how achingly hard he is, now that you feel how he twitches under your hand each time you kiss him, and it takes much longer than you would like to undo the drawstring of his sweatpants, pull them down, and wrap your hand around the exposed length of him. He hisses as his whole body jerks.

Instantly, you set a frenzied pace of stroking him, relishing in each ragged moan that you rip from his throat; he's leaking into your palm, you realise, dripping over your fingers as you pull him back by the hair and attach your lips to his neck. When you suck a bruise into the softest part of his skin - the salty-sweat-tangy hollow beneath his Adam's apple - he shouts out your name, loud, followed by, "-fuck, fu- let me fuck you, baby, please, I - I'm close, you have to stop-"

"Come on my hand, Dickie.", you plead, and you're granted a thick spurt of precum when you lick a stripe up the column of his throat: he tastes so good, his skin so hot under your mouth, you can't stop, and you croon right into his ear, "It's - it's gonna last for hours, still, you're still gonna be hard - I'm still so needy for you, Dickie, look - come on my hand, let me see it, please. You can fuck me after, just come for me where I can watch it, oh - oh, please." His moans start to pick up in volume and frequency, coming from a place deeper in his throat. He's close, you know.

You've started to grind onto his thigh somewhere along the way. It feels amazing, it feels even better because you know he's twitching and aching for you just inches away - once you finally drag yourself out of the crook of his neck, you see that you've left a damp streak on his sweatpants in the wake of your hips, and the steady stream of precum leaking from his cock has soaked the material higher up. "Come on, Dickie, come on, let me see you come, I wanna see it, I - I'll, fuck, I'll lick it clean after, Jesus-", you blurt out, too far gone to be horrified at the ease with which the words spill from your lips.

"Oh, baby, shit-” he cries, and then his voice dissolves into a broken jumble of incoherent mumbles and whines. His cock twitches hard in your palm, once, twice, three times against the rapid pace you maintain on him, and then Dick bucks his hips up into your hand, back arched, perfectly still and tense; he comes hard, almost whimpering, head thrown back and eyes tightly shut, looking so, so perfect as you stroke him through it and grind feverishly onto his thigh. It's the image of his cock that has the breath snatched from your chest, though. Several thick ropes of cum spurt from him as you work him through it, some hitting the skin of your abdomen and some dripping down the length, and it just keeps going, no sign of stopping until Dick completely collapses, after almost a minute of moaning and coming - your hand is drenched with him.

The sight of his cum dripping from your palm makes something in your stomach clench hard, painfully, and suddenly you need to taste him, you have to, it hurts so much and it'll go away as soon as you get your mouth on him. You scramble off the chair, almost falling to your knees in front of him - he rushes to steady you, even with weak and shaky arms - but you don't care about how graceful you look right now. As soon as you manage to nestle yourself between thighs, you lick flat up the underside of his cock. The taste of it makes your eyes roll back in your head. Dick spits, "Holy shit!", and it trails off into a deep gasp as you wrap your lips around him and sink down as far as you can go. You'd take your time, usually, but everything in your body is screaming for you to taste him, let him fill you, and you're in no position for argument.

With each dip of your head - punctuated with a moan from the man above you, each one becoming closer to a growl, animalistic, and you think the pollen is beginning to send your bodies into total overdrive now - you take him as deeply as you can. You're nearly gagging, but that's what you need. His hands tangle into your hair; at first, you can tell he's trying to be as gentle as he can, but that's soon overcome with a tight, guiding grip that pushes you further down onto his cock with each bob of your mouth. The burning heat under your skin is killing you now, too much to ignore, so you manage to shuffle out of your leggings and underwear and kick them away: Dick groans roughly, maybe because he can smell you more clearly now-

"Come here, pretty girl-", Dick says, sliding his hands from your hair to lift you up by the jaw. You mean to whine, perhaps beg him to let you back down, because he feels so good in your mouth - then you see the look on his face. He looks totally gone. Nothing like the Dick you know, warm and gentle and relaxed: his eyes are completely clouded over, lips parted and slick with saliva, brow furrowed with something between pain and carnal desire. You imagine you look much the same, with spit dripping from your chin, the heat you can feel burning your cheeks, and the wetness you feel running down the insides of your thighs. He meets your eyes, and there's a moment of stillness. One thumb slips from your cheek to trace over your lower lip.

Then, both of you move at once - you surge forward to kiss him again, those perfect, pink lips - you fumble with the hem of his shirt, ripping it up and over his head while barely leaving his mouth for a second - Dick's hands slide down your body to your waist. He pulls you into him as he leans forward, half-supporting your weight, and suddenly your back is against the floor and he's on top of you, kissing you hard and bruising, the chair long since kicked away and forgotten about. Every inch of freshly exposed skin feels like molten silk under your touch: you slide greedy hands over his torso as he licks into your mouth, feeling the network of ridged scars and each ridge of muscle. Thankfully, Dick grants you a few precious, savoured moments to feel his skin, while he alternates between rolling his hips against your bare pussy and kicking off his sweatpants.

It's all ungraceful and clumsy - wet kisses stolen between your movements, each of you moaning against the other's lips - and it takes much, much too long for both of you to finally shed yourself of all your clothes. Dick's hands grab greedily at your breasts as he ruts his hips against you a few times, and you can feel how your wetness spreads over his cock. Then, his hands fly down to find your knees, and he drags them to fit around his waist, pulling up until your hips are fully tilted, the stretch of your muscles verging on uncomfortable. "Oh, fuck, that's it, baby. Keep your legs there for me, won't you? Come on, wrap your legs around me - I want to get as deep as I can, it's gonna feel amazing, I promise.", Dick says, bordering on a growl now that his voice is so deep and strained, and you do as he says immediately. You need him inside of you, now; you hook your ankles behind his back, kiss him, and desperately grind your hips into his.

And then, with one deep roll of his hips, he's inside of you. One quick thrust and he's buried to the hilt, and, God, he fits inside you so perfectly: your body all but melts at the feeling of finally being filled, and you keen as you instinctively use your ankles to press his hips further into you. Dick's just large enough to stretch you out, even with how wet and ready you are, without becoming painful, and the pollen means it only takes you a short moment to adjust to his size before your body is pleading to be fucked. He's shaking and panting with restraint above you whimper, "Ho-holy fuck, Dickie, please... please move, oh my god."

"I know, baby, I know.", he says, breathlessly, voice tight with pleasure but still sympathetic. Even with him motionless inside you, it already feels so good, better than anyone you've ever fucked, and you can hardly stop yourself from grabbing him by the shoulders, pushing him down, and riding him. "It just feels so good, you feel so good - I don't want to rush it, I want to make it last. Jesus, my body feels like it's on fire while I'm touching you, I - oh, fuck, I want to take it slow, make you feel so good you cry-"

"-We have all night to be slow, Dick, you can do whatever you want to me, just fuck me-"

Dick's hips roll into yours and a drawled curse falls from his parted lips. He pulls out, almost completely, enough that you panic and squeeze him tighter with your thighs, but then he pushes back into you, slowly, letting you savour the way each nerve ending inside your pussy is set ablaze; he repeats the motion, faster, his curses morphing into sweet mumbles of your name each time he bottoms out. You can hardly breathe - it feels so good, and each thrust of his hips is met with a pollen-driven roll of your own, so it's half-grinding, half-fucking - the slight curve of his cock has him dragging deliciously against your g-spot every time. His movements are picking up in intensity now, and you can tell the pollen is taking him over completely. The same is happening to you: fuck it, you don't want to think about the pollen anymore, you just want him.

"Ah, yes! Yes, right there-right- keep going-", you cry out after a particularly hard slam of his hips. Dick is propped up on one elbow, hair clinging to his forehead with sweat, and the other hand slips down to grab at your ass and pull you up into him. He's deep enough that it hurts, but it's the best pain you've ever experienced. "Fuck, faster, please!"

He obeys, mercifully, and you think you can see sweat starting to bead on his temples. "Is this what you need, pretty girl? Come on, tell me what you want - tell me I'm making you feel good, because you're making me feel so fucking good, I swear, better than I ever even imagined - fuck, you're so wet, are you going to come again? Please, please let me make you come on my cock."

The combination of his cock inside you, and his pelvis bumping against your clit, and the overwhelming sensations coursing through your body: it's all too much to bear, your body is going into total overdrive, and it's so embarrassing that he's got you like this. You never normally beg, you never normally come so fast, but this is different and addictive and incredible - you cry out an affirmation to his words, and suddenly his hand is gripping your chin. He's fully collapsed onto you now, and his movements are more frantic rutting than anything else.

"Look at me-", he pleads, using his hand to guide your face so you're staring right into those glassy eyes. "-look at me while you come, and it'll make me come."

You can feel your muscles beginning to tense up as your orgasm starts to grow. Already, your world is spinning, and you feel halfway to blacking out from the sheer intensity, so you tangle your hands into his hair as a way to ground yourself. "Please come inside me!", you whine - the idea of being filled with his cum, letting it drip out while he fucks another load into you, it's fucking mind-blowing and you can't imagine anything better than feeling him shoot into you while you come on his cock.

Dick's jaw clenches tightly. "Are - are you sure, baby? Is that what you want?"

The next thrust hits you perfectly, and you can't help but pull him tighter into you, so his head drops to the crook of your neck. "I need it, Dickie, you know - you know that - you need me too, right? Fuck, fuck - it's gonna feel so good, I'm so close-". He spends a few moments sucking a bruise into the most tender skin of your neck before moving to press his forehead to yours. Each rough movement of his hips has you jostling against the floor; your nipples are dragging against his chest every time, making you keen, and your swollen clit is being hit so perfectly by his hips, and he's making the most perfect and breathy noises against you - he looks so fucked-out, so gone, so completely absorbed in the feeling of his cock inside you, and your vision is starting to blur at the edges as the spark in your stomach finally bursts into flames-

"That's it, baby, come for me just like that.", Dick gasps, just as your orgasm rips through you. You've got no choice but to clutch at him desperately and ride out each devastating wave as a scream tears itself from your lungs: it feels like your body is tearing itself apart with each ripple of pleasure emanating from your core. Like your body is folding in on itself like a black hole does, when everything becomes too much to bear. You actually feel like you've died, you must have, this is too good and too much and too overwhelming - you hang on to Dick through it all, and your pussy clenches down so hard he can barely move inside you, and he chokes out your name before his own orgasm hits him.

You've come down just enough to process the way he looks and sounds as he comes. Your eyes are still hazy - you kept them on him, you must have - but you nearly come again at the mere sight of him. He's too far gone to even make sounds, and instead he stutters out broken breaths through wet lips, cheeks flushed and eyebrows furrowed hard, and his eyes stay fixed on you the whole time. Even as the rest of his body spasms and rocks into you uncontrollably, even as the hand on your chin slips down to your neck and squeezes, he keeps staring at you with all the lust in the world. The best part of it all, though, is how you feel his cum spilling out into you; even more than he shot onto your hand, somehow, and you realise you're crying from how relieved your body is. Fully, fully, crying, and Dick kisses away your tears as he collapses against you.

Despite how both of you are wincing at the overstimulation, neither of you ever stop moving through it all, and you keep grinding gingerly, carefully but sloppily, against each other even while you gasp for breath against each others' lips. It can't be more than ten seconds from when you come down, before you can't control the urge to whisper, "Give me another one, Dick, please. Keep fucking me." It hurts - it hurts because he's not fucking you, he's not moving enough - you need more.

Dick keeps rolling his hips against yours in shallow movements for a few seconds. His mouth is occupied with sucking more bruises into your neck, up your throat and across your jaw: he's mumbling something incoherent, slurring his words. Each fresh bruise has you gasping his name. You're going to be covered in marks after this - not just your neck, his grip on your ass and hips has been tight enough to leave bruises there, too - and you're entirely certain you've left scratch marks down his back. You nearly come again just at the thought of that; Dick, walking around for days with your marks left on him. Scratch marks under his dress shirts when he's on business, or under the tight material of his Nightwing suit, or blatantly visible through the obscenely sheer shirts he wears out clubbing. He's going to be marked as yours.

"You look so pretty like this, holy shit-", he says, pulling his head from your neck to admire his work. "You're so gorgeous - you always are, you always fucking are - but you look even better when you're mine, fuck-"

“-make me yours, then, please-"

You gasp in shock and disappointment as Dick suddenly pulls out, and his own face crumples at the loss of touch, but his palms are firm and insistent on your waist - he kisses you once, firmly, before he's manoeuvring your body like putty in his hands. You're flipped onto your stomach with another whisper of how pretty you are, and then Dick runs calloused palms down the soaked flesh of your thighs, up over your ass, over the curve of your spine and all the way up to gently, gently, press your cheek flat against the floor. He follows his hand with hot tongue, and when he reaches your ear, he murmurs, "You taste so good, pretty girl. Stay there for me. It's okay, let go. I've got you."

Uncontrollably, your ass jerks up and backwards against where his cock is pressing into you. He chuckles. He fucking laughs with his lips pressed to your cheek - maybe having came inside you has cleared his head enough that he can think straight enough to find your desperation funny - and one of his hands slides back down your body, spreading your pussy open for him to look at. You sense his body tense as he gazes at you. "...My cum is dripping out of you, oh my god."

Fuck it back into me, you think, but you're too far gone to string together a coherent sentence anymore. Your body can do the talking. You keep your cheek pressed to the floor, maybe because your muscles are too exhausted to lift your head, or maybe because it was so fucking hot how Dick pressed your head down, but you manage to meet his eyes. You plead with him as well as you can.

Dick's piercing blue eyes roll right back into his skull when he pushes into you again. From this angle, he feels even deeper than before: with one of his hands running lines up your spine, and his lips wet against the backs of your shoulders, and the steady, strong pace he sets fucking you, you're brought to the verge of tears again within minutes. You can hardly move your body to work with him in this position: he uses the weight of his body to press you into the floor, and each thrust of his hips has you moaning loud against the floor.

He brings a string of kisses and nips up your nape, so he can kiss your cheek again. It's sweet, a gentle gesture, only amplifying the pleasure that each deep snap of his hips brings. "I - I'm not hurting you, am I? I know it must be sensitive, baby, I understand if it's too much, I know - you can tell me if it's too much-"

"-no, please-", you whimper, terrified he's going to stop, "-it's so good, please, Dickie, you're exactly what I need-", and then your voice cuts out into a broken sob as one of his hand snakes between your body and the floor to find your clit. The rough pad of his finger brushes over it a few times, eliciting whimpers from you, before he settles for simply resting his finger on your clit. With each thrust, your hips are jostled against his finger just enough to send sparks of electricity shooting through your veins - every time, it feels like flames licking through each limb, and he's fucking into you so perfectly, claiming you with teeth at your neck, rasping your name against your skin - there's wetness against your cheek, like you're drooling, and you're almost certain you can feel the wetness of your pussy dripping onto his hand.

You're so swollen with desire, you can feel how tightly you're clenching down onto his cock. The mind-blowing pressure Dick's applying to your clit is only making it stronger. "You feel so good, baby. So, so, fucking good - holy shit, you're taking me so well." Then, there's a savage thrust of his hips, one that has both of you crying out in surprise and pleasure: he freezes buried to the hilt inside you. "You're going to make me come again soon, sweetie."

That means more of his cum inside you, more of his delicious moans and groans as he comes, and you say, "God, please-"

"-not yet, I want to make you come for me again. You feel so tight and hot when you do - I need it again, I want nothing more than that, please - you think you can give me another one, huh? One more for me?"

"I - I - yeah.", you stammer. You can, you know you can - your body is practically vibrating from how hard you're trembling on the edge of another orgasm - but you don't know when it's going to stop, you don't know it ever will - maybe this will go on all night, maybe he'll fuck you for hours on end and make you cry and let you lick your mess of his cock. But maybe it won't. Maybe your body will give out, or the pollen will leave his system: this will end and nothing will ever compare. You don't want to come again if it means the end of this pleasure. "...Promise you'll keep going after, Dickie."

Dick starts rubbing rapid circles on your clit with his ring and index finger, and kisses your hairline to soothe you as you sob again. "I'm only going to stop if you ask me to, baby, I promise. You feel too good to stop, I swear - I never thought you would be so fucking perfect, but now I know, I can't stop - I'm right here, I've got you, I'm going to make you come so many times you forget your name if that's what you want."

God, you're going to come again, holy shit-

He hardly gives you the chance to come back around before he's crooning, "-one more, one more for me, right on my cock like that-"

You can't even breathe. Your lungs are on fire, your vision is completely blacked out even once the second orgasm ends, your muscles and bones have turned into mush and you can't feel anything other than the sensation of flying. You're weightless, Dick is the only thing grounding you - he coaxes you down from the aftershocks with soft kisses to your cheek, and his hand tracing circles onto your aching hip, and the muscles of his abdomen are flexing with restraint against your back. "I'm gonna come, baby-", he hisses, and you manage the barest nod and then he sinks his teeth right into your shoulder as he starts pounding into you like a whore, fuck, it's sending you spiralling out of control again-

"Fuck, yes, take my cum like that, that's it, keep coming for me, holy shit-"

You're both boneless and drenched in sweat by the end of it. You're collapsed against the floor, Dick's collapsed against you, and he's still hard inside of you. You can feel his cum - it must have spilled out onto the insides of your thighs, judging by the wetness you feel there. His cock twitches inside of you with every ragged breath he takes. You're so exhausted; this is destroying your body, it's ripping you apart from the inside out, and you're terrified that if you come again it'll split you into pieces. And you want that. You twist your body, wincing against the waves of pleasure that crash over you at even the slightest movement of his cock inside you, and kiss him.

#dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #nightwing #nightwing x reader #dc #dcu #batman #batfam #kinktober #smut #dick grayson smut #sex pollen

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silverfootstepswrites · 4 years ago

Text

Eden: ZERO

ZERO (here) / BLEACH / TWIST / REVERSE / DYE / RED

Death is not the opposite of life, but a part of it. - Haruki Murakami

+++

“You’re doing it wrong, you know.”

Those were the first words Madara had ever spoken to her. Arms crossed across his chest, over his half-buttoned shirt. Staring down at her with those arrogant eyes glinting bright red.

“Then show me how to do it,” she retorted. Unaware of how dangerous those words were.

A harsh wind swept through. Sakura squinted her eyes shut against the hair that blew into her face. When she opened them, the man stood just in front of her. Grinning with too-sharp teeth as he leaned over her. Those luminous eyes widened as he took in the golden light sputtering between her palms.

“What are you? 12? Don’t even know how to do basic channeling?” he asked, eyes darting back up to her face.

“8,” Sakura corrected him.

“Ah. Shit. Seriously?” His expression shifted. The furrow in his brows deepening as he squinted down at the magic twinkling and then dwindling in her hands. Thumb on his chin, he leaned in a little closer to the sparks.

“Are you channeling through your solar plexus or your heart?” he demanded.

Sakura made a face. “My what?”

He sighed.

“Take a deep breath, through your nose. Like this.” And he demonstrated. Inhaling through his nostrils. He exhaled long and fast through his mouth. “When you breathe out, feel your abdomen move. Right here.” He touched his stomach.

Sakura watched him do it once more before she tried it herself. Breathing in deep through her nose. Exhaling through her lips.

“Now try channeling your magic through that part of your stomach you just felt,” he instructed.

Her eyes closed as she followed the steps. She gathered her breath, willing her strength into her palms as she exhaled. The golden sparks appeared again, but this time, they spilled from her palms, down her arms. They showered her clothes and the ground with bright lights before winking out of existence.

“I did it!” Sakura exclaimed. And when she lifted her chin to thank him, the man was gone.

++++

The world overflowed with magic. It clung to blades of grass and wafted off the smoke rising from chimneys. It lingered in the alleyways, mingling with the smells of food from all around the world. A melting pot of pastelitos, General Tso’s and doner kebab all in one.

Anyone who couldn’t perform magic bought it. And the more complex the magic, the more valuable it was. Simple levitation charms and giggle potions could be purchased in the same vending machines that sold soda. People walked out of salons with hair that changed color in the sunlight. Sleepy janitors on the night shift could twist a finger and let the mop work by itself as they took a quick nap.

The city of Konoha was as old as it was busy. It wasn’t where Sakura had been born, but it was where she was now.

She lived in one of the dorms at the Senju Institute. Many of the students there were children of non-magical parents and trained them to wield their powers. This program was, in essence, an orphanage, but no one liked to say that out loud.

There were many things to be grateful for. The Senju Institute fed her and kept a roof over her head. None of the teachers or fellow students were ever unkind to her. But a label seemed to hang over her head everywhere she went.

This girl can’t wield magic.

No matter how much she studied, how much she practiced, she couldn’t understand the lessons from the instructors. Who told her, “Follow your instincts” and “feel the energy”. Which meant absolutely nothing to her. Besides that odd encounter in the library, Sakura had never managed to properly channel magic before. And as her classmates learned to conjure light and summon orbs of water, Sakura found herself falling farther and farther behind.

Tutoring sessions with the teachers did nothing. So while Sakura struggled with the application, she threw herself into reading up on the theory. Because maybe there would be an answer in one of those big, dusty books in the library about what made her defective.

If anyone wanted to know how to do magic, Sakura could recite it without a thought. The irony was comical, in some ways. Although, Sakura didn’t find it very funny at all.

++++

“You can’t just show up whenever you want,” Tobirama griped, not for the first time, as he watched Madara peruse the shelves of the school library.

“Relax. Your brother said it was okay. Isn’t he in charge?” Madara said.

“Yeah. But I’m also in charge. And I hate you,” retorted Tobirama. Madara snorted. And then he found his eyes drifting past the shelf. Past the balustrade. Downstairs, he glimpsed a little girl sitting alone at one of the long tables. Her nose buried in a huge textbook.

“That girl,” Madara mused. And Tobirama turned to follow his gaze. He let out a heavy sigh.

“Ah. Sakura? Good kid. I feel bad for her,” he replied.

“Bad? Why?” Madara’s eyebrows rose.

Tobirama paused. He peeked over at the girl to make sure she hadn’t heard them before he leaned in a little closer.

“She seems to have the spark, but she can’t channel magic. Her pathways must be dead or blocked,” Tobirama whispered, hand covering his mouth. Madara’s mouth twisted, eyebrows rising.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

It was Tobirama’s turn to look surprised as he watched Madara cup his hands around his mouth.

“Hey! Kid!”

The girl’s head jerked up. Her eyes widened.

“You still remember this?” Madara asked. He held out his palm. Gold sparks flooded his palm, overflowing. Spilling over the railing. Down to the floor below. The girl nodded. She held up both her hands. She squeezed her eyes shut, biting her lower lip.

“Feel where your breath is. Push the magic through there,” he reminded her.

Slowly, flecks of gold gathered at the tips of her fingers.

“Exhale. Push through your stomach.”

Gold welled up in her hands. And then it began spilling endlessly, bouncing across the tile.

Madara turned to Tobirama with a smirk. “You know, Tobirama, sometimes telling people to just feel magic doesn’t work,” he rubbed it in. But Tobirama didn’t even see the expression as he hurried down the stairs to examine the magic. Sakura looked from Tobirama, up to Madara. Her face gold as the light from her magic bathed her expression.

Madara raised his eyebrows at her as he descended the stairs.

“Hey. Try this,” he urged. And then he closed his fingers around the sparks. They spurted between his fingers before they began to lump together. Burning red hot, thrumming with energy. When he opened his hand, a smooth black stone glistened in his palm.

Tobirama sighed. “Come on, Madara. Even senior level students struggle with transmutation.”

The girl’s forehead wrinkled. She grabbed Madara’s hand, jerking it down to eye level. She scowled at the shimmering rock.

“How do I do that?” she demanded.

“Make the sparks. Breathe,” instructed Madara, snatching the orb away.

She took a step back. Sucking in a deep breath through her nose, she summoned the golden sparks to her hands once more.

“Now. Kid. The magic is moving quickly because all the molecules are moving fast,” Madara explained. He pointed at the sparks. She stared. “They’re all vibrating. Bumping into each other. All because it’s so hot.”

“It doesn’t feel hot,” she protested.

Tobirama sighed again, shaking his head.

Madara shot him a dirty look before he looked down at Sakura again. “Well, you’re not wrong, kid. I’ll get into that stuff later. For now, just believe me. It’s hot for the magic, alright?”

The girl continued to frown, but she slowly nodded.

“Then make the magic stop moving so fast,” he explained.

She blinked a few times. Then lifted her chin to look up at him. “So... tell the magic to cool down?”

He thought for a moment. And then Madara smirked. Hand on his hip, he nodded.

“Yeah, kid.”

She stared directly into the sparks. She sucked in another breath. And then she began to close her fingers, just as Madara had. As she moved her hands, she whispered to the sparks: “Cool.... it’s time to be cool. It’s not hot anymore. It’s nice and cool. Slow…”

Tobirama’s eyes bulged as the sparks slowly darkened. The magic began to swirl together in her palms, rippling back and forth with each of her breaths. Then, slowly, it gathered into a solid shape in her cupped hands.

“Show me what you got, kid,” Madara instructed.

As the girl opened her hands, the object between her fingers slipped out. Madara’s hand flicked. It rose in the air, sparkling as it rotated. It was a crystal with a pointed tip. Purple, green, and blue swirled together in layers, gleaming as light bounced off the surface.

“Huh. Fluorite. Good quality too,” he commented. When he flexed his fingers, the crystal began to spin in the opposite direction. But when he glanced at the girl, he saw that her eyes glittered even more brightly than the crystal she had created.

“I did that?” she whispered.

“Yeah. Impressive for your first try,” Madara replied. With a flick of his wrist, he sent the crystal flying over to her. She held both her hands out. It fell into her waiting grasp.

Smug, Madara turned toward Tobirama.

“See? Kid can do magic just fine. Pretty gifted, honestly,” he rubbed it in. Relishing the way Tobirama glared at him.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Tobirama ground out.

“Can you teach me from now on? You’re a good teacher,” Sakura spoke up. Still clutching the crystal she had created.

Tobirama and Madara both looked down at her. Her eyes gleamed. Rubbing his chin, Madara considered this.

“Tell you what, kid. I’ll do you one better.” Madara grinned.

“Madara, no,” Tobirama was already protesting.

“You ever had your own room before, kid?” asked Madara, hand on his hip.

It had taken some persuading. As a student of the Senju Institute, Sakura was technically in the care of the school itself. Plus, Hashirama, its headmaster, wasn’t keen on the idea of just… giving a student away.

Madara, however, was not above playing dirty. When he began rattling off a list of all the ways both brothers owed him, Hashirama finally caved.

Madara would take custody of Sakura. He would instruct her on the fundamentals of magic. When Sakura was old enough, and had developed enough of her skills, she would resume her studies at the institute.

As Madara watched her pack up her things, he looked around the narrow room she shared with one other girl. Her roommate had some photos taped over her desk. There were a few posters on her side of the room. A picture frame sat on her nightstand. All Sakura had were her books, along with a blue vase filled with fake flowers. The books she scooped up into her arms and dropped into her suitcase. She didn’t move to take the vase.

“Ready to go?” he asked as she set the suitcase on the ground. The things inside rattled around. Half-hollow. Half-filled.

Sakura nodded.

Madara’s home sat halfway across the city from the Senju Institute. The inside of his car was old-fashioned, but it was clean. The worn leather seats gleamed. He drove with the windows down, his hair whipping back in the wind.

“So… what do you do?” she asked.

Madara pushed his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose. His lips twisted to one side.

“I dabble. Been going by ‘arcanist’ for a while now,” he replied. When Sakura continued to stare, he laughed a little, teeth glinting. “I research magic and how to put it inside things. I also come up with spells to use magic differently.”

“Do I have to call you ‘dad’?” she then asked.

Madara wrinkled his nose. He waved a hand, as if shooing the title away from him.

“Nah. I’m Madara. You can call me that. Or ‘teacher’. Whatever. Just don’t say ‘old man’,” he answered.

Madara’s home didn’t look like much from the outside. But inside, it was filled with books, spell ingredients, and whatever other clutter he had gathered over the years. Candles bobbed in the foyer. Shoes floated into a closet as soon as they were off the feet. The welcome mat shifted colors whenever someone stepped over it.

It was also much too big.

Sakura’s jaw dropped the first time she stepped inside. She backtracked onto the front steps. Stared up at the narrow apartment. Then stepped inside again, staring at how tall the ceilings were.

“Extension magic,” Madara chuckled as he watched her dumbfounded expression.

The next few days were a blur of learning the house’s layout and trying to absorb all the information Madara threw at her.

“There’s no real schedule. Eat when you like. We can do your lessons in the afternoon, so you can sleep in,” he said as he poured himself a glass of wine.

“What about school?” she asked.

“I am your school. There’s nothing at those ridiculous schools that I can’t teach you better at home,” Madara scoffed.

“What about math? Or reading and writing?”

Madara heaved a sigh.

“Kid. I got it,” he assured her.

Despite his attitude, Madara was a proper teacher. He waited for her to understand before he asked her to do. Whenever she asked for him to explain again, he did so. The technicality of Madara’s casting made a lot of sense to Sakura.

“Not like that. Spread your fingers. You need to leave space for the magic to gather,” he explained as he nudged her hands. He stood with his feet shoulders width apart. As Sakura adjusted, he pointed down at his feet. She inched her feet closer together until he nodded.

“Now. Let’s try again. Remember, you need to break the bonds and remake them,” Madara reminded her. He waited for her to nod before he took a deep, slow breath. Sakura copied him, feeling the heat gather in her fingertips.

Madara never made her feel like she had when she had stayed at the Senju Institute. Deficient. Slow. Somehow less than the others who ran around with their hands shooting sparks in every direction.

The Senju school of magic focused on drawing upon emotions and imagination. And while their magic was strong, it was also volatile and ran the risk of turning destructive.

The Uchiha family’s knowledge of magic emphasized understanding the science of magic. What created it? How could it be channeled optimally? They were the ones who had discovered that wooden wands and staves are actually a poor conductor of magic. The discovery had led to the development of new casting tools that had filled up the family’s accounts faster than the banks knew how to handle.

As Sakura spent more time with Madara, the more she realized that magic wasn’t just about the spells. It was woven into the very fabric of reality. It changed the structure of objects and bent light. All she had to do was tug on a few strings to set things into motion.

“Water and fire are kind of alike, actually,” Madara said. He held his hand out, palm up. His palm seemed to glow for a moment before a flame flickered to life just above it.

And with just a little more effort, he changed the fire into water. The droplets danced together before he crushed them in his palm.

“Why?” Sakura asked.

“It’s all about the energy of the matter. If you change the energy, you can change the state of things.”

Sakura touched her hand to her chin. “More energy is hotter,” she recalled him saying.

Madara nodded.

“But more energy can also be gas,” she went on.

Madara’s eyes crinkled a little, but he said nothing.

Sakura’s forehead wrinkled as she peered up at him. “Am I a water affinity?”

Madara nodded.

“And you’re fire?”

Madara nodded again.

“Can someone be good at both?”

Madara thought for a moment. “Your natural affinity is what you’ll be good at with little effort. It would be more challenging, but it’s possible to do both well,” he decided.

Sakura tilted her head

“What about earth?” she asked.

Madara laughed. He leaned back in his chair. “You must’ve driven those teachers crazy with all these questions.”

Sakura didn’t smile. She looked down at her feet. “They got mad when I kept asking…” she confessed.

Madara’s laugh cut off. He examined her expression. And then he ruffled her hair. “Aw, kid, don’t look like that. You can ask me as much as you like. Just as long as I’m not trying to sleep,” he assured her. And then he paused.

“I mean... sometimes when I’m... ah whatever. Ask away, kid,” Madara concluded. Watching the dimples form in her cheeks as she gave him a shy smile in return.

++++

“Nice work today. Your basics are really coming together,” Madara commended her over dinner one day.

Sakura smiled around her bite of chicken. She was doing that more and more now.

“Next, we should take you to an appraiser. Your folks wouldn’t have brought you to Konoha if you didn’t have an affinity for dream magic,” Madara went on. He slathered a biscuit with too much butter, gesturing with his knife as he spoke.

Sakura’s smile faded a little.

“They did it once. At the Institute,” she admitted.

“And?” Madara prompted, cheeks stuffed with food. “What’s the verdict, kid?”

Konoha was famous for the art of dream magic. Unlike elemental magic, which most people could learn to use with the right training, dream magic couldn’t be learned. It was innate. Dreams, shadows, thoughts- those were all things that ran in the blood.

Someone had once thought to call those would could handle dreams dream casters. It was a silly name, but it had stuck. A low level dream caster could bottle a dream that already existed and sell it for profit. A more skilled dream caster could amend parts of a dream, or even piece one together from scratch.

Sakura nudged a piece of broccoli on her plate.

“They never said.”

They had taken one look at the paper and sent her back to her room. The subject had never come up again.

“Those fuckers,” Madara sighed. His eyes widened. At the same time, Sakura’s head jerked up.

They stared at each other.

“Was that a bad word?” she asked.

Madara’s eyes darted to the ceiling. Then back to her. “Uh… yes. You shouldn’t say it.”

“Even though you just said it?”

“….Yeah.”

“….Okay.”

The test was simple.

Madara sent her to bed early that night. Reading the expression on her face, he mussed her hair.

“Don’t worry, kid. It’s not hard,” he assured her.

Despite all the questions swirling around in her head, Sakura managed to fall asleep. And as she found herself dreaming of a park on a sunny day, she spotted a familiar figure sitting on one of the benches. Madara lowered his round sunglasses with a smirk.

“Well. Only dream casters can meet in dreams. Gotta make room for that in your lessons, I guess,” Madara mused, rubbing his chin.

When Sakura woke in the morning, she shuffled into the kitchen bleary-eyed. Madara stood flipping pancakes at the stove. Well, more accurately, he stood drinking coffee while a spatula flipped pancakes on its own. Madara turned his pointer finger in a circle. A glass flew out of the cupboard. The refrigerator door opened so a carton of orange juice would move to join the cup.

“You ever get any training in dream magic before, kid?” Madara asked her.

Sakura shook her head as she watched the glass fill with juice. When she held both her hands out, the cup lowered down into her waiting grasp.

“Good. Means I don’t have to undo any garbage they put into your head at that school,” Madara muttered.

Nightmares were a common issue for dream casters. Especially in children. Who had an excess of magic with no way to use up the energy. The surplus magic seeped into their dreams. Twisting things into horrors that only a child could imagine.

Madara taught her not to fear.

“You shape the dreams. They cannot shape you,” he told her.

Each dream caster had a way of envisioning dreams. And a way to bend them to their will.

Madara saw dreams as swirling black mists. When he casted, he sank into the endless field of mist, feet settling onto the soft black powder that coated the ground. He pulled the mists into shapes, sculpting them into people and objects. He could even sweep bigger sections into the skies and the ground. And when he channeled his magic, burning red for just a moment up his fingers, he filled the mist with color and texture.

Sakura copied him, at first.

But even as she learned, Sakura loved watching him bend her dreams. Twisting the nightmare shapes into harmless stuffed animals and pieces of furniture. He conjured ice cream out of thin air. He could even make stars appear in the sky where there had been none. It all felt so natural. And it was so easy to do it once she had seen him do it a few times.

“Is it normal for us to have bad dreams?” she asked one night as he lit the incense in her room. The fragrance filled the air. Madara paused. And then he looked over his shoulder at her.

“In the beginning, yeah. Maybe it’s the cost of walking through everyone else’s dreams,” he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. He lit the last stick of incense before he took a seat next to her bed. “But you’ll stop having them. Or you’ll learn how to make them good again.”

Her room was right across the hall from his. He had heard her wake up crying the first few nights in the house. So it had become part of the routine for him to check on her. He never said why. He didn’t really have to. And she didn’t thank him for it. Somehow she got the feeling that it would embarrass him.

“I wish I didn’t have bad dreams,” she muttered, pulling the covers up to her chin.

Madara smirked. “Same, kid. Good night.”

He mussed her hair before he got to his feet.

++++

“Alright. So.” Madara took a deep breath before he started.

“This is my little brother Izuna. That’s my nephew Fugaku. And those are his two kids Itachi and Sasuke. This is Obito, I think he’s a nephew. Or maybe he’s a cousin. Cousin’s cousin? Eh, whatever.”

He pointed to each face in the photograph as he rattled off the name.

“That’s too many people,” Sakura said. Cheek in his hand, Madara nodded.

“Family’s too damn big. Anyway, I’m the head, so you can be as rude or as nice as you want. No one’s gonna say shit to yo-” Madara broke off as he caught himself swearing again. Sakura scrutinized his expression.

“I’m not supposed to say that word?” she guessed.

Madara sighed, rubbing his hand over his face. “Yeah.”

“Okay.”

And then she turned her attention back to the album.

“So… they’re my family too, now?” Her voice was suddenly tiny. Not like her at all.

Madara stared at her profile.

“Yeah, kid. You’re not alone anymore,” he answered. He rested his hand on top of her head. It was heavy, but she didn’t complain or shake him off.

It wasn’t difficult to get to know the other members of the Uchiha family. They came to visit often. So much so that Madara grumbled and threatened to kick them out each time they showed their faces.

But Madara’s too-big house started to make sense. All the spare bedrooms were perfect for when someone wanted to spend the night.

Shisui liked to crash on the sofa when he fought with his family. Itachi used one of the guest rooms when he wanted to study dream magic with Madara. And Sasuke was there the most often. When he needed a quiet place. When he just needed space from his parents. Because “they care about me, but they’re…a lot.”

None of them batted an eye when Madara introduced Sakura as their cousin. Shisui took to ruffling her hair the same way he did to Sasuke. Itachi reminded her about elbows on the table and offered to help her with her homework. Sasuke was just relieved to have someone his age around now. After years of Itachi and Shisui ganging up on him for being “the baby”.

The titles for how they were related to Madara were tangled and complicated. They called him “Uncle”, and Madara called them her cousins. And that was good enough for her too.

Sakura liked it when her cousins slept in the house. The proximity made it easier for her to visit them in their dreams.

In the early years, when her magic was still a tiny little sapling, she could only visit a dream that was very nearby. And that was almost always by accident. She would stumble into a place that wasn’t hers, baffled by the weight and shapes of things.

It happened the most with Madara, since he was usually nearby. And if he was irritated by her intruding on his dreams, he never let it show in his face.

But as time went on, she began to wield her magic with more ease. And rather than falling thoughtlessly into dreams, she could imagine the shape of the entrance to the dream world. It was a worn wooden door, painted deep purple. There were vines crawling up the edges, spreading towards the keyhole. Which made no sense, because it always opened without a key at her touch.

Madara taught her about the portal that would take her to the Uchiha family’s dreams. It was a long corridor filled with ornate doors. Each one a different color and shape. And when she hesitated, Madara tugged her hand to pull her forward.

“Your door is here too,” he had assured her.

And Sakura blinked. “Mine?”

She memorized the shapes and colors of the doors she knew. Itachi, Shisui, Sasuke, Madara’s, and finally hers. The jeweled handles turning soundlessly under her fingers.

It turned out that even dream casters in the same family envisioned dreams differently.

Shisui dreamt of space. Each of his dreams was a different planet, swirling with cosmic dust. Nightmares were filled with storm clouds. Quiet dreams were barren moons that spun on in silence.

On the nights when he worked, sometimes Shisui let her tag along as he cast together people and places into one planet. Crushing them between his palms as they rotated faster and faster. Until light shone between his fingers. And when he pulled his hands apart, a planet or a moon spun in place. A dream that he would then pluck out of space and file away for later.

Itachi saw dreams as a vast ocean. When he casted, he plunged into a deep ocean. He settled onto the soft sand at the bottom of the sea. Corals bloomed and seaweed waved in time to the current. And he pulled the fish and all the shells together, weaving them into a beautiful dream that could lull the most anxious heart to sleep.

It was strange being where Itachi cast his dreams. Silence. Bubbles rising with each exhale, even as she breathed without a problem.

Sasuke’s was unusual, even among his eccentric family. He dreamt of a vast warehouse of boxes and jars. Sakura trailed after him as he wandered the aisles, grabbing things off the dusty shelves. Sometimes she even carried some of the things for him, listening to him mutter and sigh as he tried to find just the right ingredient. And then Sasuke dumped all these things into the giant vat in the middle of his dream space.

It was fitting. Given how Sasuke liked formulas and order. Sakura sat to the side, watching as he brewed up a beautiful dream, more clinical and more calculated than those of his cousin or his older brother. But beautiful nonetheless.

With all of these influences around her, it wasn’t difficult for Sakura to discover how to cast dreams her own way. She experimented with different styles until she found one that just sang in her palms.

When she entered her room in the dream world, she imagined fragments of dreams as colors and sounds. A little like Sasuke’s, these fragments lived in glass jars that lined the walls of the room. But when she popped the cork, sound spilled out of each one. Someone’s laugh. The honk of a car horn. People singing “happy birthday” off-key.

When these fragments swirled together into a tapestry of colors and sounds. Thrumming warm between her fingers until they gathered together into a solid shape in her hands. At first, she made them take the shapes of smooth stones. But over time, she learned to turn them into crystals instead. Just like the fluorite Madara had first taught her how to make. The stronger dreams became more jagged crystals. While the softer ones became rounded gems that sat warm and curved in her palm.

And just as she liked to visit her family in their dreams, they liked to visit her too. Itachi, in particular, loved to sit on a cushion in the corner, his chin in his hand.

“It’s elegant.”

Sakura turned to him, her hands still squeezed together. A snippet of laughter slipped through between her fingers.

“What?”

“The way you weave dreams. It’s elegant. Just like Uncle’s,” Itachi clarified. He held his hand out. Sakura dropped the dream into his palm. It was a rose quartz, shiny and smooth.

++++

Part of Madara’s deal with the Senju Institute was that Sakura was required to participate in the same exams as other students. So, once a year, Madara drove her to the school. He parked his car in the lot and waited while she took the exams.

Some of the other students recognized her. They whispered, nudging each other with elbows. Some snickered as they waited for a good show as she failed to conjure anything. Like always.

Instead, she recited incantations forwards and backwards. Her hands glowed as she filled the room with a rippling aurora. She conjured balls of light and turned them into water. The muttering and smirking stopped right away.

It seemed silly now. And she could hear Madara’s voice in her head. Imagine him slouching in a chair in the corner, acting like he wasn’t paying attention even as he advised her to straighten her posture.

Breathe deep, kid. Magic starts with the breath.

Feel the heat gather in your stomach and pull it into your hands.

Water comes from your head. Imagine it spilling down your neck and arms. That’s the magic pathway you need to use.

The sputtering instructors tried to speak with her after. But Madara leaned on his horn. Everyone rushed to the windows to cast a glimpse of Madara poking his head out the car, one hand cupped around his mouth.

“Let’s go! Takeout’s getting cold, kid!” he called.

“Coming!” Sakura yelled back out the window before she hurried down the stairs.

And as Sakura got into the car, Madara always paused to glare up at the school. “Anyone give you any trouble?”

“No. It was fine,” Sakura always answered.

“Good,” Madara grunted as he backed out of his spot.

++++

At some point, Sakura couldn’t remember when, she stopped calling Madara by his name. Maybe it was around the same time, he stopped calling her “kid” or “squirt”.

It was odd, because that seemed like something important. So she should’ve remembered it.

But maybe it was because it had happened so quietly. So naturally.

One day, she looked at Madara’s back as he stood in the middle of the massive library inside their house.

“Papa.”

“Yeah?”

He didn’t laugh. As if that was what she had always called him.

“Can we go over that transmutation spell again? I’m still kind of lost.”

“Sure,” he replied, already descending the ladder with several books floating down after him.

++++

Before either of them knew it, years had passed. Sakura enrolled in the Senju Institute as a college student. She majored in Abjuration with a minor in Divination. When she graduated with full honors, Madara had barely batted an eye.

“Didn’t expect anything less from you,” he assured her as he took them out to dinner to celebrate. They clinked wine glasses together.

Four months later, she was back for her Masters in Magical Research. She commuted from home, like she had during undergrad.

“You know, you’re always welcome back here,” the headmaster liked to mention whenever they bumped into each other. Which was a little too often for it to feel like coincidence.

“No thanks,” she replied, barely looking up from her textbook, “I like where I am.”

She tucked her hair behind her ear, smiling as she pretended not to notice how the headmaster’s eyes narrowed.

“Tell that old man to go fuck himself,” Madara scoffed when she brought it up over dinner.

“Papa. Language,” she chided. She flicked her wrist. The pepper shaker glided across the table, into her hand.

“That is the right language for him,” Madara snorted.

Fourteen years had passed since she had come to live in that house. Her room still sat across the hall from Madara’s, all the way up on the top floor. In all that time, Madara had never once nagged her about staying up late at night. He didn’t complain about how she used all the hot water in the house whenever she showered.

The closest they had ever come to fighting was when he had insisted upon hanging her diploma and her graduation portrait in the foyer. She thought it was embarrassing. Especially since Madara loved to brag about it anytime someone visited. He refused to let anyone inside until they made some sort of positive comment about the diploma. It made Sakura groan and put her head in her hands.

“You hate it that much?” Madara had teased at first.

Lifting her head, Sakura wrinkled her nose. She couldn’t really say ‘yes’, though.

++++

“And this is where it all starts.”

++++

It was early in the morning on a Friday.

Magic trembled in the air. Like a raindrop clinging to the underside of a gutter. Wobbling. Waiting until the moment that gravity would drag it down.

Madara rolled onto his side, his ears ringing and his ribs sore. He started when he heard someone exhale beside him. He didn’t remember bringing anyone home last night. He wondered what time it was.

“Papa. I need to borrow your scrying bones.”

He let out a sigh of relief at the sound of Sakura’s voice. Pulling the covers over his shoulders, he turned over again.

“Don’t you have your own?” he groaned. He felt persistent pokes to his lower back.

“Yours work better,” she insisted.

Madara didn’t respond. But after a long time, he heaved another sigh. He raised his pointer finger and flicked it through the air. The bottom drawer of his nightstand opened. A black velvet pouch floated up, landing in her hands.

“Thank you, Papa. I love you,” she said in a sing-song voice. She kissed the back of his head through the comforter before she pranced off. Humming as she rattled the dry bones together in the pouch.

“What’re you trying to scry anyway?” he asked, squinting as he pulled the comforter away from his face.

“I wanna know what I should wear on my date today,” Sakura yelled back from the other room.

“Oh,” Madara said. He snuggled back down in the comforter. Letting out a yawn, he closed his eyes again. Relaxing in the warmth of his blankets in the ear-

“Wait. Date?” Madara repeated, eyes snapping open again. The comforter tangled around his legs as he launched himself out of the bed. He scrambled to his feet, kicking the sheets aside as he hurried out of his room. Listening to the rattle of the scrying bones knocking together as she cast them to the ground.

“With who?” Madara asked. The door to her bedroom was wide open.

“A guy. We were in the same chem class last year,” she answered. She stared at the bones she had scattered across the rug. She nudged a couple of them with her pointer finger. Madara scowled.

“Hey. Don’t force the bones,” he reminded her.

Sakura’s lower lip jutted out.

“If you want a certain answer, you shouldn’t be consulting the bones in the first place,” he then scolded her.

Sakura pouted even harder as she turned around to stare at him. Madara flinched a little. He wasn’t proud to admit that he had succumb to those pleading eyes on several occasions.

“This is important to me, Papa. Don’t be mean,” she insisted.

Madara exhaled noisily, rubbing his hand through his hair. And then he flapped his hand at her. “Alright, alright. Keep at it,” he told her, crossing his arms across his chest. A proud smile crept across his lips as he watched the bones begin to glow a soft shade of gold.

Divination had always come easily to her.

Wisps rose from the blackened cracks in the bones. Sakura leaned in to listen to the whispers.

Eyes widening, she turned her head to look at her bed. There were a few different sets of outfits laid out on her comforter.

“Really? The red one?” she mused.

The bones hissed something else before the mist dissipated. Sakura stared down at them for a moment.

Beware of the dreams that linger, they had whispered.

“What?”

Sakura looked up to find Madara still in the doorway. He yawned as he stretched his arms over his head.

“You’ve got an eye booger, Papa,” she pointed out.

Madara rubbed his left eye.

“No. The other one.”

He rubbed the other eye.

Sakura scooped the bones up and dropped them into the silky pouch. She tied the string. Madara held his hand out. Sakura tossed the bag up into the air. It drifted to Madara, landing in his waiting palm.

“Do you have time for breakfast before your date?” he asked.

“Yeah. It’s not until tonight. Can you make pancakes?” she requested, staring up at him. Madara grumbled, scratching his stomach. Sakura pulled on the bottom of his shirt as he shuffled past her.

“Go wash your face,” he sighed as he walked out of her room. With a flick of his wrist, he sent the bag of scrying bones flying back into their spot in his room. Bleary-eyed, Madara made his way down the stairs towards the kitchen.

They had breakfast a little while later. Sakura laughed when Madara almost poured maple syrup into his coffee. Madara snorted into his food when Sakura read one of her texts out loud. Sakura snorted too as he began choking on his food. They were both in tears and wheezing by the time they had cleared their plates.

After they did the dishes, Sakura glanced down at her watch.

“I’m gonna go to the shop first. I won’t stay out late,” she promised. She gathered her hair in one hand and pulled it off her neck as she searched for her phone. Madara froze. Sakura looked back when she felt his stare.

“What?”

Madara blinked hard. And then he smiled.

“Your phone’s in your hand, kiddo,” he pointed out.

Sakura looked down. She laughed. Madara did too as he went to pour himself another cup of coffee.

++++

The Uchiha family’s dream shop sat in a quiet street not far from Madara’s house. It was close enough that she could walk, although Madara insisted that she ask him or one of her cousins for a ride at night.

It was a little cramped. And they could more than afford to move into a larger space. But there was something charming about that crooked shop. About the way they had to scoot past each other on the narrow stairs.

The sign above the door was in the shape of a paper fan. The white and red paint was peeling. Shisui and Sasuke nagged Madara about upgrading to a neon sign every once in a while, but Madara had ignored them for years. And would, undoubtedly, continue to ignore them for as long as possible.

The store was already open when she arrived. Sakura felt a faint hum in the air as she rested her hand on the doorknob. Bells chimed as Sakura stepped into the shop. The dreams sat on the shelves that lined the walls. They glowed white for a moment when she stepped inside. Then they faded back to their natural colors. Dreams about adventures were green. The ones about love swirled pink and light purple.

These dreams had been collected from other people. Friends, acquaintances. Sometimes just strangers who slept beautifully. Sakura dove into their dreams and took a part of it home with her. Gathering the threads of the dream matter in her hands like glistening threads as she walked. As long as she was careful, when she woke, those threads were still in her hands. She could slip them into jars with a hint of enchantment to stabilize them.

It was one of the first things Madara had taught her outside of basic magic. This was the cheapest form of dream magic. After all, dreaming someone else’s dream wasn’t perfect. Details didn’t always line up. Names and faces wouldn’t make sense. But for most people and their budgets, this was enough.

“Hey,” Shisui greeted her, leaning against the counter and the register. Sakura waved at him as she shut the door behind her. She ducked beneath the mobile of colored ribbons and bells that hung from the rafters.

“Is it just us?” asked Sakura, pulling her scarf off. She tossed it into the air behind her. Along with her coat. An enchantment caught them and pulled them onto the coat rack in the corner. The spell even straightened out her coat so that it wouldn’t wrinkle.

Shisui tapped a pen against the counter. He tossed it and then stretched his arms over his head. “Nah.” He interrupted himself with a big yawn. “Itachi’s upstairs with a client right now.” He blinked a few times, obviously exhausted.

Shisui rubbed his eyes with his palms. “Sasuke’s doing something at the lab. He’ll be by later to lock up.”

“On the third floor?”

“Yep.”

Sakura craned her head to look up as she thought.

The customers who weren’t satisfied with buying prepackaged dreams were where they made the big money. Some wanted the dreams that were tailored to their specifications. Others had nightmares that they needed a dream caster to untangle. Both services required the dream caster and the client to be asleep at the same time. The therapy rooms upstairs provided the quiet space these clients needed.

Sakura made a note to stay extra quiet as she moved around the shop.

Shisui watched the counter, checking on sales and appointments. Sakura kept busy organizing dreams and taking inventory of what they needed to harvest.

This was how most days at the shop went. They swapped out roles as their clients came in for appointments. Sakura’s gentle touch with both clients and dreams made her popular with children. Women almost always requested Itachi or Sasuke. Shisui was the most popular among their older clientele.

Madara himself didn’t come to the shop much these days. He always joked: “Why would I? When I have you kids to make all the money for me?”. They only pulled him from his research when there was something the four of them couldn’t figure out on their own.

On the nights that Sakura stayed late, there was almost always someone who would walk her home. Or Madara would drop everything to be there once she texted him. Hand on the back of the passenger seat. Grinning with those sharp canines that she had once found a little intimidating (how silly).

“Hey kiddo. Ready to go home?” was his corny greeting each night.

That night, Madara didn’t pick her up. She still messaged him to let him know that she had left the shop, Sasuke would be closing up, and not to wait up for her.

Izuna brought jerk chicken. I’ll pack leftovers for your lunch tomorrow, Madara replied.

Sakura sent him a series of purple hearts in response.

The date went well. Gaara had sat next to her for an entire semester. They had spoken a few times. Once, he had asked for a pencil. So it had surprised her when he had asked for her number, face turning so red he looked ready to explode.

Dinner was at a tiny Turkish restaurant. They sat at one of the counters by the window, a little squished as they bit into spicy lamb and crispy falafel.

“What are you doing now that we’re out of school?” she asked. She took a slurp of soda through her straw as she looked over at him. She laughed when she saw him struggling to swallow his food to answer. She handed him a napkin.

“Eat. It’s okay,” she giggled.

Gaara blushed again as he wiped his mouth. The thin paper stuck to the oil on his fingers.

“I’m… working at city hall. For public works,” he finally managed to say.

Sakura tilted her head to one side. “I’m not really sure what public works is in charge of,” she confessed.

Something lit up in his eyes. He sat up a little straighter as he began explaining. “There are divisions within public works. But basically it’s in charge of taking care of public buildings and facilities in the city. I work for the division that oversees the parks. I go out to visit them and check that they’re safe. Sometimes I survey people to ask what they think we can do to improve things.”

Sakura smiled a little. She leaned on her hand as she listened to him. And when he had finished, he glanced over at her. Suddenly small and quiet again.

“You really like your work, huh?” she commented.

He flushed bright red, all the way to his ears. But he nodded.

“That sounds really cool. What are you working on lately?” Sakura asked.

They stayed until the manager of the restaurant apologized and said it was time to close. As they stood on the sidewalk, Sakura puffed out a breath. It was getting cold at night. Her hands in her pockets, she cast a sidelong glance at Gaara. He was looking down at his phone.

“I’ll call you a cab,” he offered.

Sakura thought it over. And then she nodded.

“Sorry. I’d give you a ride if I had a car,” he added as he pressed some icons.

Sakura snorted. “I don’t have a car either. Can’t judge.”

He chuckled too.

And then as they stood waiting, Sakura heard him shuffle his feet.

“Uh… so… can I see you again?” he asked.

Sakura rocked back on her heels. She took a deep breath of the cool air. When she looked up at him, she was smiling again. “You’re cute. You have good manners. You have a job that you’re passionate about. I don’t see why not,” she answered.

His eyes widened. Sakura burst out laughing at the look on his face.

When the black car pulled up, Gaara opened the door for her. He waited for her to get into the back seat before he closed the door. And then he hesitated, fingers resting on the handle.

“Can you text me to let me know you got home okay?” he requested.

Sakura leaned out the open window. She reached out to tap him once on the nose. “Sounds good to me. Good night,” came her reply. As she rolled up the window, his fingers slipped off the door.

Sakura listed out her address to the driver before she leaned back in her seat. She caught the driver glancing at her in the rearview mirror.

“Good date?” he asked.

“Yeah,” answered Sakura with a smile.

Even though she had told Madara not to wait up, he was sitting at the kitchen table when she got home. She tossed her coat in the air. One of Madara’s spells caught it and draped it over a hanger. Just like the one that gathered her discarded shoes and slipped them into an empty spot on the shelf. She climbed the steps, rubbing her hands through her hair.

“Hi, Papa,” she greeted him as she walked into the kitchen. He raised his eyebrows and nodded before he returned his attention to his book. Sakura scrubbed her hands clean in the sink. The smell of the fruity soap filled the room. She rubbed her hands on a kitchen towel before she took a seat next to Madara at the round table.

“How’d it go?” questioned Madara. He slipped a bookmark between the pages before he shut the cover.

“Pretty good. He seems nice,” Sakura said right away. Madara pulled his glasses down, hooking them into the front of his shirt.

“Are you going to see him again?” He tried to keep his tone casual, but Sakura wasn’t fooled. Tongue between her teeth, she grinned at him.

“Aw, Papa. Are you gonna feel lonely if I get a boyfriend again?” she teased.

Madara looked disgusted by the very idea. “No. I’m looking forward to some peace and quiet again,” he retorted. Sakura snickered. And a smile touched Madara’s lips as he got out of his seat.

“I’m going to have some coffee before bed. You want some?” he asked.

“I wanna try the one Uncle Izuna brought last time,” Sakura called after him before she slumped over the table.

The kitchen always smelled like coffee. Madara probably drank more coffee than he did regular water. It was no wonder that his sleep schedule was all sorts of messed up. Coffee in the morning. Decaf at night- even though that didn’t seem to help. The kettle let out a whistle when it was ready. Madara poured the water through the filter into her favorite cup. The white one with red flowers.

“How was the shop today?” inquired Madara when he returned. Sakura inhaled the fragrant steam.

“How was the shop today?” inquired Madara when he returned. Sakura inhaled the sweet-smelling steam.

“A little quiet. I need to get more childhood dreams. I’m starting to run low,” she mused. She reached over to pick up his book. It was old. The green cover was peeling at the edges.

“What’s this?” she wondered.

“I’m looking at tracing magic in ancient artifacts. Kind of dry,” he huffed.

“You writing a new research paper?”

“Yeah.”

“Why don’t you pick a topic you like more, Papa?” wondered Sakura.

Madara rolled his eyes. “It’s a request from someone I owe a favor to,” he responded.

Sakura wrinkled her nose.

Madara sighed. “Exactly.”

They chatted for a little while longer before Sakura began to yawn. She rubbed her wrist across her eyes. “I have to head to school in the morning to pick up some materials. I’m gonna go to bed,” she announced, getting out of her chair. She gathered both their empty cups to place in the sink.

“Night,” Madara greeted her.

“Good night, Papa,” she replied. Sakura gathered her purse and her phone. She squeezed Madara’s shoulder as she walked past.

++++

As the weeks went by, Sakura found herself quite busy. Whenever she wasn’t at the shop, she was busy working on her thesis. Sometimes Naruto and Ino wheedled her into taking a break. They got cheap pizza and sat eating on the curb. Or sometimes her cousins barged in with Vietnamese food and soda, completely ignoring how Madara glared at them as they stormed inside.

“I didn’t invite you,” he scolded.

“Nice to see you too, Uncle,” Sasuke called over his shoulder as he climbed the stairs up to Sakura’s room.

Sakura met Gaara a few more times. He really was very sweet. He always seemed embarrassed whenever he caught himself talking too much about his work. But it was nice hearing someone so excited about something. They went to see a movie. Another time, they just walked in the park, getting lost among the winding paths and trees.

“I really want to focus on finishing my thesis right now. I hope you don’t feel like I’m leading you on or anything,” she had explained once.

“That’s alright. I don’t mind waiting,” Gaara replied. And then he walked into a tree branch, making Sakura burst into giggles.

November turned to December. And suddenly it started to snow all over the city. As the white flakes covered the asphalt, Sakura browsed the library inside their house. It seemed impossible that such a huge room existed in the building. Of course it was. But Madara’s magic played around with the dimensions of the room to make it happen. It was an odd combination of light and heat that Sakura still struggled to pull off after all her years of practice.

Sakura pushed her glasses back up the bridge of her nose. The silver wire frames had once been Madara’s, which, like many of his possessions, she had claimed as her own.

“What?” she called, leaning back on the ladder to peer at him. With a flick of his finger, Madara pulled the ladder down the wall of shelves, closer to him.

“I asked have you seen Shisui?” And he punctuated the end of the sentence with a sigh.

“Yesterday. At the shop. Why?”

“His parents say they haven’t seen him since yesterday. Can’t get in touch with him either.”

“Maybe his phone’s just dead, Papa,” Sakura suggested. She pulled another book off the shelf, leafing through it.

Whenever he wasn’t working at the dream shop, Shisui was usually doing magical research of his own. In particular, he was interested in how the position of celestial bodies affected spells. It wasn’t unusual for him to disappear with his telescope and his spectrometer for a night or two.

“That’s what I thought at first. But it’s been a full day and no one’s seen him,” answered Madara. He leaned against the rungs, his hands under his chin.

In front of him was a shelf full of manuals on torture and human anatomy. Those were from some of his darker days as a younger man. His eyes flickered over to Sakura before he slowly waved his hands. The spines sparkled before they blurred. The letters of the titles swirled around, rearranging themselves into different words. Then he shot Sakura another look.

She was still looking through the shelf higher up. She hadn’t noticed anything.

“Either way, his parents are worried. Keep an eye out for him,” Madara insisted.

Sakura considered this. “Have you asked Itachi? He always knows what Shisui’s up to.”

Madara shook his head. “Says he has no idea either.”

There was a pause. Sakura pushed her glasses up again, lips twisting to one side. She pointed to a few books, which slid out of place from the shelves. They hovered in the air around her.

“I’ll ask my friends and see if they’ve seen him around,” she finally agreed. Madara smiled up at her.

“Great.”

That same night, only much later, Sakura’s shadow fell across the threshold of Madara’s room. She knocked on the open door. Which was a little silly, given that he could see her. But it was an old habit.

“Papa?”

“Hm?”

“I’ve got a headache again.”

Madara pulled his glasses off. Sighing, he put the glasses, along with his pen in the book to mark his place.

“It’s because you overdo it,” he scolded, even as he reached his hand out for her.

Pressing his fingertips to her temples, Madara channeled energy through the thin skin.

“Take a deep breath.”

He pulled the magic, which had twisted and bunched up in all the wrong ways.

“Inhale.”

He tugged. The threads of energy shattered. Like a jar of marbles overturned. The little shining pieces scattering in every direction. Gold fluttered from her temples, fluttering off in little glittering pieces.

Sakura’s eyes opened in time to catch the list glimmers of magic dissolving into the air.

“Am I channeling wrong? I keep getting them a lot lately,” she wondered. Rubbing the heel of her hand against her temple.

“No. It’s a common issue, actually. When you walk dreams, the residue magic follows you. It’s just buildup. Regular clarification like this is all you need,” Madara assured her. Sakura frowned a little harder.

“Have they found Shisui yet?”

Madara leaned his elbow on his headboard. He heaved a sigh. “Not yet.”

“It’s not like him to just run off. I hope he’s alright,” Sakura mused, frowning too. Sakura looked up when she felt Madara pat her knee.

“Things’ll be fine. They always are,” he said.

Sakura searched his eyes for a moment. And then a smile pulled at her mouth. She nodded, sighing. “You’re right.”

++++

A week later, and Shisui was still missing. Along with Itachi, who had never missed a day of work before.

“Still no word?” asked Ino.

“Nope. Nothing,” Sakura replied.

“Have they called the police?” Naruto wondered, leaning his elbow on the front counter of the dream shop.

“Yeah. They even went to his apartment. Nothing. Passport’s still there. None of his stuff is missing. It’s just... poof,” Sakura listed, shaking her head a little.

It really wasn’t like her cousins to disappear without a word. The police claimed that they were searching, but both Sakura and Madara agreed that it obviously wasn’t enough.

“I’m sorry, Sakura. That sucks,” Naruto said. Leaning against her, he put his arm around her shoulder. Ino took Sakura’s hand and patted it a few times.

“Thanks,” was all she could think to say as her friends did their best to comfort her.

And while Sakura really was grateful, she felt worse for Sasuke. He hadn’t slept in days as he took to the streets in search of his older brother. She tried to go with him whenever she had time. And she called him on the nights she couldn’t, just to ask how things had gone.

Sakura even considered planting a dream in Sasuke’s room. Just to force him to get some rest. But she knew he wouldn’t like that. And he was so sharp that he might even spot it before it had a chance to take hold of him.

“You doing okay?” Ino questioned.

Sakura blinked. She smiled. “More than everyone else, I think. I’m trying to be positive.”

Naruto’s forehead wrinkled. “Aw, Sakura, I love you and your big heart,” he sighed, squeezing her a little tighter. Ino wrapped her arms around Sakura’s other side.

“Things will work out,” Ino reassured her.

++++

That night, Sakura walked into her house to silence. It was New Year’s Eve. She had promised to be home early so they could watch the countdown together.

“Papa? You didn’t pick up so I just walked home,” she called as she stepped out of her boots. She leaned a hand against the wall for balance. Paused. Waited for Madara’s voice drifting down the stairs to her.

Nothing.

“Papa?” she tried again.

Something about the quiet made her uneasy. She walked up the stairs, looking for a glimpse of silvery wings. There was usually a spirit around that she could talk to. But even the usual hum of magic that buzzed around the kitchen had gone silent.

The back of her neck itched. Sakura scratched at it as she wandered through the house. Nothing in the living room. Or in the laundry room.

She climbed the stairs. Madara’s study was empty. So was the second floor bathroom, where she sometimes found him sitting with a cup of coffee and chatting with the water spirits.

The third floor was silent too. But something about the air felt off as she climbed the last steps. And there was an odd smell. Metal. Metal and something that made her head begin to pound.

The floorboards creaked under her feet. She peered into her room first. Her bed was still unmade. One of her drawers sat open with her laptop resting on top. The string lights that framed her window winked at her. Everything was just as she had left it that morning.

Part of her must have known what she would find. She found herself dragging her feet. Blinking too much as she forced herself to cross the hall. To knock on the door that was ajar. Pretending that the huge pool of dark red wasn’t spreading across the white wood.

She could hear herself screaming. She couldn’t make herself stop. Tears filling and blurring her vision. She screamed and screamed until she could feel her ears ringing with the sound.

++++

“Hey! Sakura!”

Her eyes flew open. She could see a dark shape hovering over her. She flinched away until she recognized the glasses hanging from the front of his shirt.

“It’s just a bad dream,” Madara said. He snapped his fingers. An orb of soft light flickered into existence. Just enough for her to see that this was her bedroom. She could also make out his look of exhaustion as he sat on the edge of her bed.

“You okay?”

Sakura shook her head. She sniffed. Rubbed her face. Her palms came away wet with tears. Madara clicked his tongue. She felt him lean over her to pluck a couple tissues from the box on her nightstand. He pushed them into her hands. She sat there staring at them.

“You haven’t had a nightmare like that in a while. Must’ve shook you up pretty bad,” he sighed. And then his hand landed on top of her head. He patted her hair a few times. Still a little clumsy, even after all these years.

Sakura didn’t say anything. She stared down at her hands.

Madara patted her head again before he asked, “Wanna talk about it?”

Sakura shook her head again.

He sighed. “Okay. Let me go make some pancakes. It’s almost time to get up anyway,” he decided. He squeezed her shoulder before he got up. She could hear his bare feet shuffling against the floor as he walked. And then thumped their way down the steps.

Sakura sat in a daze for another minute. It took her a few tries to get her mind to focus on anything. She blew her nose, wadded the tissues up into a ball, and threw them in the trash. Out of habit, she disconnected her phone from the charger and lifted the screen up to eye level.

Friday, Nov 3.

A notification popped up on the screen to remind her that she had a date tonight.

Sakura dropped her phone. It bounced once on the mattress. She cast another wary look around her bedroom. And then she was scrambling off her bed, stumbling into Madara’s room. She yanked the bottom drawer open. Underneath a worn journal sat his bag of scrying bones. Sakura poured them out onto the rug right there.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Madara’s voice came from the doorway.

Sakura tried to push her tangled hair out of her face. She gave a hiss of frustration before she yanked it into a bunch on the side of her head and held it in place. She took a long breath before she could gather her frazzled thoughts enough to channel magic into the dry bones.

The black fissures in the bones began to glow. Voices hissed out through the brittle marrow.

Beware of the dreams that linger, they whispered again.

Sakura squeezed her eyes shut. She channeled a little more magic.

The whispers chanted the phrase over and over again: Beware of the dreams that linger.

And as the voices began to fade, they left her with one more warning.

Do not give your heart away.

“You know, you could’ve just asked to borrow them.”

Sakura’s head whipped around. Madara stood there, arms folded over his chest. He tilted his head a little as he looked her over.

“Go wash your face,” he said, jerking his head in the direction of the bathroom.

Sakura turned back to the bones. They sat limp and cold on the rug. She scratched the back of her neck, heaving a sigh.

“Okay,” she answered before she scooped the bones up into her hand and dumped them back in the pouch.

++++

“And this is where it all starts again.”

#fanfiction #haruno sakura #modern magic!AU #i've been playing with this idea for forever #uchiha madara #uchiha itachi #uchiha shisui #uchiha sasuke #idk how to explain this #uchisaku #kind of #i'm stuck on amaryllis so i'll work on this until i can figure out what to do

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thebibliomancer · 4 years ago

Text

Essential Avengers: Marvel Super Heroes Secret Wars #1-3

May, 1984

THE WAR BEGINS

Oof, here we go.

Just gotta replicate the pace that let me do the Hawkeye miniseries in one go, three times in a row.

This is probably too much effort considering its Secret Wars (or more accurately Marvel Super Heroes Secret Wars) and maybe there’s not going to be a lot of big changes from this in the Avengers book to really justify it.

But we’re getting Jim Shooter writing the Avengers and his non-consecutive runs were a lot better than I had remembered. And it continues the theme he had from the Avengers book.

It just makes sense in a nonsense way to cover this story.

Last relevant time in Avengers! Acting Completely Normal Vision warned the Avengers about some weird, possibly hostile energy surges right in time for an energy surge to surge energetically in Central Park.

When the Avengers went to investigate, they found a weird structure that looked like a techy coliseum maybe. When some of the Avengers wandered into it (apparently the most bankable Avengers? Sucks to be Vision and Wanda, shrug) they vanished.

In the next issue, after several days, these heroes returned, speaking of a secret war they fought. Weird stuff like She-Hulk taking the Thing’s place on the Fantastic Four happened. In other books, Spidey got a cool new suit.

Would you know more?

After being raptured in their various books, the missing superheroes all end up on one of those distinctive structures like the one that appeared in Central Park, except IN SPACE.

Its cool that the Avengers will have some company.

We’ve got a terrific 3/4ths of the Fantastic Four, the X-Men (including Lockheed but not including Kitty Pryde for some reason), the Avengers, Iron Man, Spider-Man, the totally Articulate Hulk, and hilariously Magneto is also here.

Maybe Secret Wars is just setting up the most awkward moment in the universe, as a prank show.

I think I’d enjoy a big event that turned out to be a prank show at the last minute. The fan discontent. Imagine.

Everyone introduces themselves to each other but mostly the audience and Ben Grimm claims his new codename as the Easter Bunny.

Checking, marvel wiki doesn’t have Easter Bunny listed as one of Ben’s known aliases. Cowards.

Looking up into space, Captain America spots another one of the totally cool constructs and Professor X scans that it contains EEEEEEEVIL.

Specifically Amora the Enchantress, Ultron, the Wrecking Crew, the Absorbing Man, the Lizard, VICTOR VON DOOOOOM, Kang the Conqueror, Doctor Octopus, and Molecule Man. Also, hilariously, Galactus is there.

I’m more convinced than ever that this is a prank show.

You know what would be more hilarious? If Punisher ended up on this construct.

The distribution of villains is kind of odd though. Galactus and Doctor Doom map to the FF. Doctor Octopus and the Lizard to Spider-Man. Ultron, Molecule Man, and Kang are Avengers foes. The Absorbing Man and the Wrecking Crew can go a couple ways but started off as Thor villains. And Amora is usually a Thor villain but supposedly has chilled out around this time or at least is less of a pain than her horny sister.

No X-Men villains. Because Magneto is chilling with them in the generally heroic pod.

Also, all the heroes were raptured from Earth while the villains were grabbed from Earth, from space, from Asgard, resurrected just to be here, or from the FUTURE.

I know marketing is wagging the dog but be consistent, secret organizer who we don’t know yet.

The Thing points out that Magnet is off-sides, re: being in the hero construct, and Magneto is like ‘hey, chill out dudes’ and denies specifically doing murders.

Magneto: “I know not what power transported me here from my secret lair, nor why I was placed among you -- but I find it more appropriate to ask why such as you were judged fit to be placed in my presence!”

Oof.

Burn.

Then the conversation is put on halt on account of the wildest shit any of them have ever seen.

An entire galaxy vanishes but probably not due to a wave of anti-matter.

Thor: “It’s gone! Gone -- ! Swept away like dust before some unseen, giant hand!”

And then around that last star left unswept, various chunks merge together to form some sort of world, perhaps for battle.

A nice touch for later is that you can definitely see that one of the chunks is a stray chunk of city.

Some of the villains start squabbling because close quarters, ego, etc.

But Ultron goes hey we’re allowed to fight? I’m the best at that.

Ultron: “I am Ultron! I do not understand the events transpiring! I do not understand how I came to be resurrected... nor how I came to be here! Nothing computes... Insignificant! I am Ultron! My purpose is to slay that which lives. You are all living things, ergo -- Ultron must destroy you!”

With the benefit of having read all the Avengers up to now, I feel that Ultron got up on the wrong side of the resurrection a little.

He’s not not like this but he’s not usually this turned on?

(Then again, maybe he just came back cranky)

DOOM grabs and shakes Molecule Man to do something about this because given enough time even the mighty DOOM might fall before Ultron.

Ultron is famously annoying to defeat, what with that adamantium.

But Molecule Man is in therapy after the Avengers kicked his shit and Tigra yelled at him for being a punk. He doesn’t want to hurt anyone.

So Doom with all his brilliant genius tells MM a cool way to help out that won’t hurt anyone. Directly.

Using his Molecule Man power over molecules to lightly toss Ultron into Galactus.

So that Galactus goes ‘who the fuck scuffed my boots’ and rips out all the energy in Ultron’s Ultron.

He can do that.

Why wouldn’t he? If he can do that to a planet, he can do it to a pissbaby robot. Even one apparently containing more power than an atom bomb.

Then, because this is one of those plots where things are always thenning, a rift opens in the nothingness of space and a heavenly esque light shines out. A warbly voice commands the action figures beat each other up.

I mean. Its more like

The Beyonder: “I am from beyond! Slay your enemies and all you desire shall be yours! Nothing you dream of is impossible for me to accomplish!”

But you have to admire that this toy commercial of a comic book is being honest and upfront about being a story where action figures bonk off of each other.

Galactus just hears ‘i can finally shake off these persistent forever munchies’ and flies off to demand prepayment for action figure bonking, with DOOM following behind him.

The Beyonder speaks up warning Galactus that hey, personal space. And that a guy that can effortlessly wipe out a galaxy is gonna have a sweet barrier but Galactus wants the hunger pangs gone and does not listen.

DOOM recognizes a bad idea when he sees one once in a while and hangs back but still gets blown out of space by the force of Galactus bonking off the Beyonder’s barriers.

Captain America: “They were swatted back like flies!”

Professor X: “To the Beyonder, even Galactus is less than a fly, Captain!”

Interruption dealt with, the Beyonder gets the show on the road and sends the two constructs to different parts of the patchwork planet.

The Marvel Super Heroes And Magneto land on some hill and quickly make sure that there are no villains excepting Magneto around.

With Magneto around, the non-X-Men raise an objection to Magneto being around.

He sank a Russian submarine with all hands back in X-Men #150 but he insists that it was self-defense and also they started it.

The X-Men’s position is ‘hey he’s a jerk but he’s our jerk plus we could use his help? The bad guys get GALACTUS, how is that fair?’

Well, they don’t say it but they’re probably thinking it.

And Hawkeye decides to be a little racist today.

Hawkeye: “You mutants stick together, huh? Well, sticking to a blood-soaked maniac like him doesn’t speak well of you, pal!”

Dude, Clint. Your dear old friend is Wanda.

Wait, why ISN’T Wanda here? Did the toy people really not want her? Fools. Her husband is toyetic as all get out.

Also, point of order, Wolverine? If anyone qualifies as ‘hey he’s a jerk but he’s our jerk!’ here its you.

Johnny “good life choices” Storm decides he’ll just kick Magneto’s ass and end the debate but yeah. Yeah, no. Magneto makes a fool of him.

And then Magneto decides eff this noise and flies off.

With Magneto alienated (good job, guys), Professor X decides this group needs some dang leadership and throws a nomination to Reed Richards. Reed defers since he’s thinking of Sue, left at home and not able to participate in the event.

Wasp, the cool leader of the Avengers, nominates instead Captain America.

Wasp: “We’re off in a strange land, up to our ears in a little secret war that may decide the fate of the universe! Some people don’t know me well! They might have doubts... and there’s no room for that!”

I’m baffled that there’s people here who don’t know Wasp who has been heroing since the 60s but sure. Cap(tain America) probably gets more crossovers and whatever.

I mean, heck, we’re talking a group of heroes consisting of the Avengers (who she already leads), the Fantastic Three (who she’s well acquainted with), and the X-Men (who I’m sure she’s met, although awkwardly its going to later be revealed that Wasp is in the Hellfire Club, but only the sex parts).

And I guess Wolverine’s extensive backstory with Cap doesn’t exist yet because Wolverine isn’t keen on him being the leader, describing him as the least of the assembled heroes. When Hawkeye is right there!

I kid because I love.

Meanwhile, DOOM wakes up adjacent to Galactus ankle and heads to a nearby fortress which he correctly assumes is where the villains have ended up.

Wait, the heroes get beamed down to a random hill while the villains get sent to an advanced fortress with weaponry and we later learn vehicles sold separately?

Kinda stacking the deck, the Beyonder.

You gave the villains GALACTUS and A FORTRESS PLAYSET right out of the gate.

The other villains tell Doom that they’ve (mostly) decided that he should be their leader. But Doom has bigger fish to fry than the prizes that the Beyonder is offering.

In typical Doomesque fashion, he wants the whole kettle. But the other villains what with their petty concerns think he’s too afraid to fight.

So he ditches.

He goes to steal-borrow a spaceship and even though he hates the thought, takes off to go talk to Richards. And then Kang shoots him out of the sky with a GIANT GUN THAT THE VILLAIN FORTRESS ALSO HAS? to stop him from allying with the heroes.

Said (marvel super) heroes see the distant explosion and fly as a group in the most hilarious way possible to check it out.

God, I have always loved this image. Its squished down into the bottom third of the page but its a delight.

They find Doom sprawled in the crash site, rambling that he’ll only speak to RICHARRRRRDS and about the Beyonder’s power. But Cap offends Doom mightily but offering him a hand up and because Doom sees pity in Cap and RICHARRRRRRDS eyes.

So he blasts the heroes and fucks off.

How very Bakugou of him.

And right as the heroes recover from that, a bunch of villains arrive to get this secret war started.

I have a fondness for this particular issue. For a long while, issue 1 was the only issue of Secret Wars I could find. So I just had the start of this story with all these non-Spider-Man non-X-Men heroes I barely knew cliffhangering into an attack by villains I really didn’t recognize except for Doc Ock and the Lizard.

It was a window into another side of the Marvel Universe. And for child me, this first issue worked perfectly to intrigue me. All these characters, the very straightforward conflict, all the complications that immediately pop up like Magneto, Galactus, and Doom. Alas, small child resources.

June, 1984

PRISONERS of War!

The heroes react slowly to the sudden villain attack but thankfully, the villains aren’t working together well. Unthankfully, half of the heroes were already knocked out by the first attack.

Meanwhile, over at Doctor Doom’s side of the plot, he flies back over to where Galactus just in time to see him finally rouse from being slapped down by the Beyonder.

Galactus floats to his feet and wanders off.

Doom: “He ignored me! As though I were a gnat buzzing at his feet! And so I am... Just as all of us, even Galactus himself, are but insects to the all-powerful Beyonder! Thus, the others have chosen to play the Beyonder’s simple game -- thereby, in effect, paying homage to him. Should I, too, pay homage? Should I worship at the feet of this god-like being -- or chose another path... one only Doom would dare!”

I think anyone that knows Doom knows which option he’s gonna choose.

He heads back to the villain fortress and finds Ultron’s deactivated body and decides Doom can use this.

Meanwhile, back at the first secret battle of the secret war, the heroes rally and start fighting back under Cap(tain America)’s leadership.

She-Hulk even gets a designated girl fight with the only female villain on the villain team.

I’d complain, I would. But at least She-Hulk isn’t the only heroine on the hero side.

She-Hulk: “Hiya! I’m the She-Hulk! You must be the Enchantress! Gee, I’ve heard so much about you -- ! You’re a not-nice lady!”

Enchantress: “A green woman? Is there no end to the varieties of mortals?”

The Enchantress magic slaps She-Hulk away and comments that she could crush She-Hulk physically but its beneath her.

Yeah, all Asgardians have some level of super strength, that’s right. Even the squishy wizards.

But all She-Hulk heard was, ‘someone I can really punch!’

She-Hulk: “I don’t often duke it out with someone solid enough to really unload on -- and slow enough to let me! Oh, wow! That was, like tubular, you know -- to the max!”

Uh. Jen, are you okay? Did you have a stroke? You don’t usually talk so much in Mario World secret world levels.

I think maybe Jim Shooter didn’t have a good grasp on her. I don’t think he’s ever written for her. And the other heroes mostly don’t vary too much from generic hero speaking patterns. Add some smart for smart characters, add some rude to Wolverine, and so on.

The battle wraps up with Kang, the Enchantress, and the Wrecking Crew captured and the rest of the villains fleeing when the battle didn’t go their way.

Cap sends Storm off to scout for a cool playset that they can use as shelter and she does so, noting that the winds on Battleworld are super easy to control. Like Battleworld was created to create ideal fighting conditions for everyone. Pretty neat, the Beyonder.

Storm finds a particularly rad fortress (”Bigger than fifty-four and a half Pentagons, I’d estimate!” Wow!) and the heroes move in.

I unironically enjoy how toyetic this story is with the fortresses and the vehicles and the weapons. Because I’m almost positive that Mattel barely capitalized on it.

There were only two playsets. Pitiful.

Over in their new headquarters, Reed stashes the captured villains in some form of psychostasis which “works by controlling aggression through brainwave modulation!”

He also sticks Enchantress in a healing pod to address that nasty case of being She-Hulked right in the face. Nothing will salve her ego though.

Captain America: “It’s no wonder that the name Mister Fantastic is renowned for compassion as well as courage! You give added meaning to the word hero, Richards!”

Whenever someone loudly announces that Reed is super compassionate, it makes me feel like they’re overcompensating.

Nobody ever makes note of, say, Captain America’s compassion.

With the prisoners (of war? Is that the whole reason for the title?) accommodated, Cap calls everyone for a meeting in a cool meeting dome he found which has a small waterfall for aesthetic and so everyone has to yell to be heard.

Wolverine yells that they should mop up the rest of the villains and get this over with.

Not mentioning that in order to “win it” they’d have to kill the villains, which none of the heroes have shown any interest in doing so far.

Cap(tain America) replies that A) planet big and they have no idea where the villains got to. And B) the remaining villains slash antagonists are Galactus, Doctor Doom, Molecule Man, Doctor Octopus, the Wrecker, the Absorbing Man, and Magneto. Not really people you mop up.

In a fun logistics bit, Cap sends out a patrol to make sure the area is secure but he also sends out two additional groups to find if there are any places in this fortress they can sleep and whether there's any... food.

Makes me imagine a Secret Survival War where the sides have to wrestle over limited resources.

Hours later, the villains that escaped the fracas arrive back at their fortress.

I’m sort of confused here.

Maybe it took so long because they had to make sure they weren’t followed. Or maybe because they didn’t have the sweet tripod vehicle anymore. But think about the flow of events of: everyone beamed down to Battleworld > Doom ditches the villains and gets shot down > heroes investigate and Doom ditches > villains show up for cliffhanger fight.

The villain fortress should be pretty close to where that fight took place. And then the heroes find a nearby fortress of their own so their fortress should be pretty close to the villain fortress. Maybe not in the same neighborhood but surely the same zip code.

Anyway, they find that while they were gone, Doom swanned in and renamed the place the Doombase.

If they have problems with it, they can talk to his Ultron.

Which I’m surprised he didn’t rename Doomtron.

Doom also tells them that he’s in charge now.

Absorbing Man: “Aw! Who gives a hoot! I need a meal an’ sleep! You wanna be in charge, Doom? Okay by me!”

If you think about it, this is just some steps added what the villains wanted all along.

They wanted Doom to be their leader but he told them he had bigger fish to fry and fucked off. Now he’s fucked back on and told them all that he’s their leader. They initially object before reconsidering due to Doomtron but, yeah, its all gone full circle.

Doom is a lot more cordial to Molecule Man though.

Doom: “Molecule Man... uh, Mr. Reece, I believe it is? I trust you were not inconvenienced.”

Molecule Man: “Well, being absolute master of molecules I can just assimilate molecules when I want, so I never have to be hungry, and I can just shoo away dirt molecules, so I’m always nice and clean -- but I am tired!”

Doom: “I have prepared a special chamber for you! I hope you like it!”

Molecule Man: “If not, I can always reconstruct the molecules -- !”

Heh.

Nice to see Jim Shooter able to follow up on the trajectory he sent Molecule Man on.

The rest of the villains head off but Doctor Octopus, the only other brain cell in this group, hangs back to talk to DOOM.

He wants to know what he plans to do about Galactus and then shows Doom on the biggest screen TV that Galactus is standing on a mountain glowing with an awesome power.

Doom just retorts that his plans are for his forces to triumph.

Doctor Octopus: Something tells me he’s got ambitions that dwarf merely triumphing in the Beyonder’s little contest! The question is whether he will destroy us in trying to achieve them -- or immediately after fulfilling them?!

Like I said, the only other brain cell in this group.

Meanwhile, while Magneto secretly sneaks into the hero fortress for Reasons, the heroes have a quiet moment that lets this Secret Wars biz really sink in.

Wasp: “I’d be having tea in my studio now, Jenny... And lunch on my patio tomorrow... This... um... situation we’re in... is kind of... much, you know? I feel there’s just a little thin wall inside me holding back a flood of despair!”

Its a nice touch, if intentional, that Wasp only admits this kind of thing now that she’s passed off the leadership responsibilities to Captain America. Its been a recurring character beat that she’s been keeping these sorts of worries to herself as chairwoman.

Over in another part of the fortress, Cyclops complains that he was right in the middle of his dang honeymoon when he was yanked into this event.

Cyclops: “I don’t know about you, Richards, but more than angry or afraid, I feel cheated! I -- I was on the verge of real happiness...”

Oof. This really sets the tone for his marriage with Madelyne Pryor.

Spider-Man and the Human Torch even have a little conversation.

Spider-Man: “You mean it doesn’t shake you, Torch, being here? What if we don’t get home?”

Human Torch: “The Fantastic Four have been off on space missions a couple of times, Spider-Man! We’ll get back! Believe me!”

I like when they’re friends.

So, I’m not sure what Magneto’s plan actually was. He was going to sabotage the fortress’ fusion generator as a distraction but Spider-Man’s Spider-Sense Spider-Alerts him to shenanigans afoot and he runs off to the power plant while Johnny Storm goes to get the other heroes.

Magneto decides to abandon whatever his plan was and captures Wasp as a consolation prize.

Gasp, another prisoner of war!

The Thing tries to give chase but inexplicably turns back to normal, smooth skinned Ben Grimm.

Also, Magneto escapes with the Wasp.

It’s like the aardvark says, you can get what you want and still not be happy.

Captain Marvel is holding the randomly anti-mutant ball for Hawkeye here and comments that none of the X-Men showed up to help stop Magneto.

Cap(tain America) tells her to belay that.

Captain America: “Let’s keep our minds on solving problems, not creating more!”

And they can’t even go after Magneto or rescue the Wasp right now because they have bigger problems: Galactus glowing with an awesome power and a massive storm that’s forming on Battleworld.

July, 1984

TEMPEST WITHOUT, CRISIS WITHIN!

The Beyonder has thrown in a nice stage hazard to keep things fresh in the form of a massive storm raging on Battleworld, with lighting that shatters mountains and winds that could tear someone’s limbs clean off.

Or perhaps its the unintentional result of just slapping a planet together out of random stuff you have lying around. The climate must be shot to shit.

I like it either way. Secret Wars has a lot of very toyetic collisions between groups of characters so its nice when Battleworld itself manages to be an obstacle.

Over in his giant U-shaped fortress, Magneto finally unwraps Wasp from the ball of random metal crap he has her in.

He lets her wander around until she finds him so that he can be all casual and eating a space scone.

Magneto: “Do not bother trying to attack me, my dear! My person is magnetically shielded!”

Wasp: “Well, la-de-da!”

Wasp: -blows up his space scone- “You think I have to strike at you directly to hurt you, monster?”

Hilarious spite, thy name is Janet van Dyne.

She also makes the point that magnetic shielding or no, she could bring this whole room down. Her being able to knock over a small house with her pew pew hasn’t stopped being true.

Magneto hastens to ask her not to do that because neither of them want to be out in the storm outside.

Besides, he just wants to talk! And flirt!

Magneto: “You are obviously a woman of intelligence and understanding as well as great beauty -- and I am not the monster you believe I am -- which is precisely what I wish to discuss!”

Wasp: “Oh? My intelligence, understanding and beauty or your non-monsterhood?”

Magneto: “Why... both!”

Back at the hero base (which is apparently ROUGHLY THE SIZE OF CHICAGO?? I want that playset), the storm has almost completely flooded the area, leaving just the top dome and such poking above the water.

The storm keeps dropping chunks of mountain at the base but Thor is standing on top, protecting it while grinning like a loon.

Captain Marvel even speculates that Thor could calm the storm but is whipping it up into a greater frenzy instead. Those storm gods, amirite?

Hawkeye is also standing by, with his explosive arrow, thinking to himself that if Thor fails, Hawkeye will totally save the day.

I don’t know whether that’s sad or endearing.

Mostly though he’s trying to distract himself from thinking about the new wife he left behind.

Cap, Reed, and Hulk are watching the villain base because apparently they do know where it is. The storm is keeping the villains in too but Cap figures they’ll pull one desperate attack as soon as the storm breaks.

They’ve already lost four of their dudes. Plus, Galactus isn’t a team player.

Spider-Man is just swinging around, enjoying how good for swinging the random technological pipes and tubes and whatsits are when he stumbles upon the X-Men having a secret meeting.

Professor X has decided, possibly on the basis of two (2) rude comments from Hawkeye and Captain Marvel, that the X-Men just don’t belong here and that they’d be better off going and teaming up with Magneto.

This... sure is a take.

Rogue comments that the Avengers don’t trust her because of that time she kicked their asses collectively. Which, hey, very possibly. They haven’t really had a thing to say about you though. They’ve mostly been grouchy about Magneto.

Which is kinda born out by the way he tried to blow up their base and definitely kidnapped the Wasp?? And is even now aggressively eating scones at her?

That’s the Magneto you guys want to go join because he’s more your people than the Fantastic Avengers and friends are?

You know, there’s a pattern I sometimes see with the X-Men where they loudly insist that the other superheroes don’t help them and don’t care about mutant stuff while at the same time doing shit like this.

“Should we get Reed Richards, smartest dick in the world to help with the legacy virus or the techno-organic virus Stryfe shot into Xavier? NAHHHH Beast can handle it.”

“Should we stick with the other superheroes or go hang with Magneto instead in a cool mutants only U-shaped fortress? Well, U is the coolest letter that isn’t X...”

If you squint, you can definitely see Krakoa all the way in the future.

Anyway, Spider-Man overheard all of this and goes ‘I’M TELLING!’

Wolverine tries to tell him that snitches get stitches but the thing is?

Spider-Man is ridiculous. He’s a ridiculously good combination of skills and powers which lets him make chumps out of entire groups at a time.

He’s embarrassed the Fantastic Four, the Avengers, and now he’s about to embarrass the X-Men.

After making them all feel foolish, Spider-Man gets away and goes to tell Reed what that doody-head Xavier said when Xavier uses his psychic powers to just wipe the entire encounter out of Spider-Man’s memory.

Yeah, it’s to cover their imminent blowing off but also? I don’t think he wants anyone else to find out how badly his X-Men just got stomped.

Psychics are too OP, I tell you what.

In fairness IN FAIRNESS, the X-Men kind of have the right to fuck right off if they wish. I don’t even know what it had to be in secret. In fact, doing it in secret is a massive dick move of its own for reasons.

What would the Fantastic Avengers have done if the X-Men had just said ‘hey we’re heading out’? Would they have put them in stasis tube jail? I doubt it.

Professor X made the decision to handle this the stupidest way for whatever reason. That scamp.

Speaking of Magneto, he’s over at the U-Lair turning down a partnership offer from DOOM. So, hey, he has standards.

Wasp has become less ‘i’ll blow up this room and your breakfast’ about him over the course of whatever the hell they discussed in their offscreen chat.

Magneto even starts to make out with her and Wasp is like ehhhhhhhhhh what the fuck why not.

Why is this happening?

I guess he has a...................... magnetic personality?

Eh? Eh??

No, but seriously, I do have a theory that I heard someplace but it’ll have to wait.

What’s weird is that there’s a Marvel What If about some spinoff babies that come about if the heroes and villains got stuck on Battleworld and never managed to leave.

Wasp has a son with Human Torch. Which is pretty weird and comes from nowhere. I guess a lot can happen during a massive time skip. My point being though, its weird that they didn’t have a Wasp/Magneto baby instead given the weird chemistry they have here.

Meanwhile, over at DOOMBASE, DOOM has some women in giant tubes.

That’s So Doom.

Doctor Doom: “All is ready -- ! This alien technology, so rich, so subtle... so easily harnessed to serve my purpose... Energy, tapped from the raging tempest... And two mortal subjects who dare to gamble for power -- knowing that to lose is death, for truly, here I shall test the limits of power a human body can contain! With the throwing of a switch... so -- the die is cast! Hear me -- ! Power must be seized -- ! Crave it! Welcome it! Drink it in, despite the pain... or it will destroy you.”

And thus are Volcana and Titania created!

Talk about lasting effects of Secret Wars! Titania is going to be around forever! Mostly annoying She-Hulk!

Where did Doom find two random women to give superpowers?

Denver, Colorado.

No, seriously.

That city chunk we saw as Battleworld formed? That’s Denver, Colorado, USA, EARTH.

Why isn’t there a miniseries or one-shot about a normal ass civilian from Denver having to deal with OH MY GOD WHERE DID EARTH GO?

I actually read an interesting thing re: this scene. It exists because Mattel asked Marvel to introduce some new female characters so Shooter wrote in these two and a third who I’ll get to when I do.

Mattel then promptly used none of these characters for the associated toyline.

The toyline, in fact, used none female characters at all. It made toys of characters who weren’t in the story but did not have a single female character.

So its very weird that they asked Marvel to introduce some but I’m not going to knock the results.

Doom introduces these two new characters to the other villains.

Hilariously, Absorbing Man guesses that Doctor Doom just made women from scratch. Because doesn’t it sound like something he could do?

Volcana and Molecule Man immediately hit it off, her being attracted to his sensitivity and him being attracted to... positive attention at all, I guess?

He muses that he could easily stop the storm outside, because molecules, but his therapist told him to let nature take its course. “Unless Doom asks me to!”

And Titania and Absorbing Man. They don’t hit it off. She either wants to hit him or hit that and its not clear and it might be both.

(Spoilers: Its both)

Titania: “You! Absorbing Man! You look like the toughest man here! Get up!”

Absorbing Man: “Whatcha got in mind?”

Titania: “I’m going to do anything I want to you! Everything I always wanted to do to everybody who used to be bigger and stronger than me! Maybe I’ll just play with you... or maybe I’ll make you eat dirt... or maybe...”

Absorbing Man: “Woman, if you got somethin’ to prove, prove it tomorrow against the guys we’re fightin’!”

Titania: “You’re backing down?”

Absorbing Man: “Nope! I just ain’t getting up! I got nothin’ to prove... to a dame!”

Would you believe that they become one of the healthiest and most stable romantic relationships in Marvel?

Speaking of weird relationships, back over at hero base, Thor goes and pops the lid on Enchanteress’ healing tube because he’s bored and wants to talk to a peer. A god peer.

Enchantress is at first more characteristically worried about what her face looks like after being She-Hulked.

But she then creates a portal so she and Thor can go have a chat.

Later, it’s morning and Hulk has been too busy stressing over losing his Banner smarts to actually keep watch or wake up Cap for watch like he was supposed to.

So when the villains ram an airship into the hero base, the heroes are not at all prepared.

Titania hurls a giant slab of wall through the room the Terrific Three are sharing, breaking Johnny Torch’s arm and ribs and knocking out the other two. He manages to get himself and co out of danger by melting through the floor.

Meanwhile, She-Hulk is carrying a big heavy as she’s been doing since the previous night and is caught unaware by Volcana who blasts her off her feet and then collapses the room on top of her.

Doctor Octopus knocks out Captain Marvel who is in the hot springs dome but gets chased away by Hawkeye, claiming that long-range firepower is his weakness.

I’m stunned at the implication that Doc Ock is one of Spider-Man’s most dangerous foes but could be scared off by Hawkeye while Spider-Man could pretty easily drop Clint’s ass. There’s some rock-paper-scissors nonsense at play here.

Spider-Man and Iron Man are also taken unawares by Ultron but manage to hide under some rubble.

Hulk leaps into the fray at Molecule Man and Doom but Cap convinces him to fall back to a defensible position.

The villains reconvene with all the captured villains freed except Enchantress (since she fucked off to have a chat with Thor) and the heroes scattered and buried under various rubbles. How the fortunes of Secret War turn.

Sure would have been nice if the X-Men had been around to help or if they mentioned they wouldn’t be. Sure would have been.

Doom: “We have accomplished much here today! And to finish it, we shall level this place so that no stone remains on stone!”

No wonder Mattel didn’t make a playset of this base! Dammit Doom, you’re ruining the merchandising!

Follow @essential-avengers for more of Secret Wars! At this same pace! Its sustainable! This is fine! Like and reblog too!

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oh-for-fic-sake · 5 years ago

Text

I Just Move Things

Whilst looking through luthors drives the league find a new metahuman who is to powerfull for her own good.

Masterlist

Warnings: swearing

A/n:So this is a new series of imagines with Justice league/ teen reader obviously no smut but fluff angst and everything in between i know that the pic is starlight but that’s there more for the eyes.

(not my gif/pic)

I Just Move Things

"Seriously this girl, shes incredible, Lex didn’t have much on her he only just got the footage a day or so before the whole supes vs bat thing but we are soo lucky she wasn't involved, if she uses her head she could probably wipe all of us out, we need to get here to join" Barry was giddy as he started gushing over the new mysterious metahuman who was a prime candidate for the justice league. Arthur sighed crossing his arms

"Oh really? I'm sorry but I don't see how that tiny thing could do much damage wheres her weapon?" He said unconvinced Bruce and Clark agreed somewhat looking at the photo victor had pulled up on the screen a girl who looked around sixteen sitting at a table outside a Starbucks reading a book, she looked like a typical teenager, no muscle definition to her small form, so obviously had no combat training she looked like a regular man could snap her in two, easy to over power. Victor sighed at them.

"Looks can be deceiving every thing you see in that photo is her weapon, the ground, the air, the glass in the window behind her even the chair she's sitting on she could use all of these to impale you if she wanted to ,its quite incredible watch her here look at this video." The clip was grainy showing the inside of a corner shop, she was standing by the counter blowing bubbles in her gum paying for a small bag of groceries when a man came in holding a gun screaming at the girl at the register who quickly turned around to the cash register fumbling trying to open the cash draw as he shouted pointing the gun at her making her scream and struggle even more. The teen in question moved only to be ordered to put both her hands on the counter, she did so but as soon as she did looked over her shoulder to the door blowing yet another bubble letting it pop she was very calm for a young girl who had a gun in her face she huffed took a deep breath you could see her eyes light up a little and the metal frame above the door caved in enough to hold it closed trapping them inside, neither of the others noticed to preoccupied quickly she slid a tin can into her hand and looked at the gun tilted her head to the side eyes flickering once again and the barrel caved in on itself looking like someone had pinched the end closing the hole completely making it useless, no bullets would be firing from the weapon the man when to scream confused but was struck in the temple by the can of beans dropping to the floor in a crumpled heap she kicked the gun away in case he got up. The cashier looked around crying in relief as she saw the thief had been knocked unconscious and with a quick look the metal frame quickly snapped back to its original state. She exchanged a few words with the girl who was now on the phone to the police nodding towards the security camera the surprised she looked up you could see her curse as she looked into the lenses a grim expression eyes flashing and the video cut off, she had broke it trying to cover herself. Silence washed over the group as they came to terms with what they saw. Clark was the first to break it

"That was, different she helped tho that is a good thing she wants to do good. To protect people" Bruce spoke up next

"She didn't take chances, but that ability, what she can do its not something to take lightly, we don't know the extent of it can she do other things?" The question was directed at victor who had been scouring the cities surveillance for her.

"I've caught her a few times on cctv doing things, she practices at night around Gotham docks. And its amazing to watch, so far from what I can tell its molecular based, solids liquids and gases. I've seen her change the shape of containers, fix broken glass, she can't fly but seems she has just started to make invisible platforms to stand on and climb and when she fell she managed to make the ground sort of turn sand like to make her fall softer and she doesn't even seem to do it consciously it just sort of happens once she got up it settled like water becoming regular concrete again. Where ever she got the gift it hasn't been long, she is still trying to control them, small things are easier, like the gun and the door, but the first time she made the invisible stairs she got a nosebleed and passed out I lost her for a few weeks but when I found her again she did it again, must have practiced somewhere else as she only got a little nose bleed and didn't pass out just got dizzy" Diana sat there contemplating

"So basically this incredible power is wrapped up in a hormonal teenager who doesn't know how to use it yet, she is still trying to figure out what she can and cant do? And no doubt soon will start testing her limits? Bruce we need to pull her in now we can't waste any time she could hurt herself or someone else" Barry nodded they all shared a look agreeing. Time to bring her in.

"Where is she?"

"She will be at the docks again tonight around nine o'clock, she has a pattern its like clock work, docks ,chemical factory and just recently started down under the main bridge towards Metropolis playing around with water". They nodded she seemed shy Clark showing up could scare her same with Diana, Barry wouldn't be a good idea he tended to fumble his words and Arthur was well Arthur. In the end it was decided Bruce would go do the talking, after all Gotham was his turf.

Well shit gonna be hard to explain this one.... you looked down sighing it was very typical tho well for you any way. You see you had a problem, or should you say gift, you could move things not just the whole abracadabra Matilda floating thing, you could move things on a molecular level..... like clay everything is clay. After practicing you now know that you can break down solids into teeny tiny grains like sand using it as sinking sand or putting it back together in a new shape and recently discovered you could pull all the teeny tiny molecules in the air together really tight it becomes an invisible force field type thingy like an instant piece of bullet proof glass, or like a platform to stand on . It was cool but difficult to control some things more then others, for instance solids where the molecules are pack tighter are easier to manipulate then water where they are all moving then air that was tricky they were fast and hard to control. And there was limitations you couldn't change anything living or growing, no plants, no animals and consequently no people. You cant heal people which you learned the hard way after cutting yourself for the sole purpose of sewing it back up nope didn't work and you wished you'd don't a shallower cut knowing it was going to leave a scar. Which sucks, but you can control the air in their lungs technically it wasn't apart of them. Loopholes, there is always a loophole. But you can fix things, like a crack phone screens burst pipes you just had to stretch things a bit or zip them up. Which brings us to this little mishap. How the fuck can you explain this, you had been trying to feel the air. You felt with your powers you liked to think of it as ripples you know like when you wave one hand under water you can feel the ripples hit the other? It was like that except you felt what the ripple hit. Kind of strange but that was the best you could come up with. So hear you was scratching your head looking at a half sunk boat, now you may be thinking boats sink all the time whats the problem?.... well normally boats sink in water not solid concrete, you had been trying to feel your ripples and pull the air below a small boat making it 'levitate' but lost your cool dropped the fucking thing panicked tried catching it and wham bam thank you ma'am boat is now half sticking out of the dock floor with a broken window. You looked up into the sky.

"Really? As if my life wasn't already a joke you gotta throw bad luck in the mix to?" You quickly closed your eyes willing the glass to reform feeling each the large pieces lift joining them selves back together slowly setting them back into the frame concentrating in 'zipping up' the seams at such a microscopic level no one would know any better. Once finished you opened your eyes, boat was still in the ground but the window was back in place. 'Yay go me' You smiled, you may not have achieved your goal of safely moving the boat but you did fix the window you broke. You sighed trying to pull the thing up again but stopped when you heard a large ominous crunching sound coming from the hull. You jumped growling pulling at you hair near your scalp.

"No no no no no this is not meant to happen just fucking move! Move up damn it!"

"Need some help?" You screamed jumping turning around as the ground flicked up around your feet creating a small knee high spikes pointing between you and Batman?. You took a step back quickly stomping the small barrier away

"Err no no I err just out for a nice stroll haha." He hummed unconvinced looking at the boat sticking out of the ground you followed his gaze chuckling nervously scratching at your chin

".....that was like that when I got here....... I mean you see some weird shit in Gotham huh?" He looked back at you.

"I already know about your gift, you can't control it yet?" You gasped taking another step back

"Gift? What gift nope no sir-y no gifts round here."

"So I didn't just watch you drop a boat into concrete and fix the window on it?" You blinked slowly at him then heaved a heavy sigh stuffing your hand in your pockets.

"Y-you saw that? Shit I didn't mean to, I promise its just hard and i just want to stop doing things on accident....then other accidents happen a vicious cycle really" You said waving over the little accident. He nodded

"I believe you, but you were panicking, concentrate try making it sand again then harden from the bottom push up like layers like your filling in a hole go from the bottom up" you looked at him a little shocked but nodded looking at the boat feeling around beneath it with your 'ripples' making the concrete go lax hearing the hiss of it as it became loose grains before pushing up hardening thin layers from the bottom finally bringing it to the surface. You smiled happy at fixing your problem. He smirked seeing you giddy from your achievement.

"Wow thank you that helped a lot I would have been here all night before figuring that out." He nodded

"Your welcome, I'm glad I found you, we have been watching you for a while, we would like to talk to you"

"We?" You asked not really understanding

"The Justice league, you have a strong ability that we think would be useful and we wanted to see if we can help you control it we can give you training in combat weapons and hand to hand which ever you prefer." You looked at him jaw hanging open

"Your joking? You've gotta be, I just move things not really worthy of being up there with you guys,but I don't want to be used then thrown away but thanks for the help" you said turning to walk away he frowned

"We wont please you can trust us" he said reaching out quickly holding an arm dragging you back a little making you gasp and jump he then winced hissing as a thin spike quickly pierced the side of his hand that held you, you panicked.

"OH MY GOD! I'm sorry I didn't mean to! it just happens when I get scared or startled!" You quickly pushed the spike down grabbing his hand and twisting it with trembling hands hope he didn't beat the shit out of you, you'd basically just attacked him.

"Erm please stay still there are a few bits in there" you said before pulling at the little pieces of debris from the small puncture hole, when you react on instinct it doesn't end up as put together as when you actively control things hence little bits falling off and such.

"Your powers are strong I don't think your fully aware of what your capable of crushing a gun with a look is just the start, just give us a chance trust us"You let go of him hugging yourself taking a step back you felt bad you didn't mean you stood looking down waiting to see if he was angry, he seemed more sympathetic.

"Its not that I don't trust you, fuck how can I not I'm just....scared, you don't know the things I've done.....I could accidentally kill one of you then what? Be hunted down by you guys? I'm not indestructible I'm human and I haven't got control of it.... I don't even know what it is.....but its probably about time I found out I suppose I just simplify it so I don't you know....loose my nerve, bad things happen when that happens , its always frightened me... if-if I did come with you what do you guys get out of helping me? There’s always a price" he regarded you carefully he could see the fear the uncertainty in your voice it made you seem younger ,smaller lost he could tell you wanted to find somewhere to go, to find a home base and people who understood a bit like Barry in that sense he sighed smiling softly before speaking.

"Hopefully a team mate, one day someone will come and pick another fight and when they do we need to be ready, to have people we can call on to help, your strong a lot stronger then you realize this gift it-its probably made you one of the strongest metahumans on the planet,even superman was a little concerned of encountering you that's why I'm here he chickened out." You giggled a little and he smiled relaxing, you were a good kid he could tell just scared and lost the league would be good for you give you direction.

"Really? I'm pretty sure I've got more reason to be wary of him" he smiled a little "The point is your strong and will only get stronger ,your still just learning about it we want help you, give you a safe place to learn how to control it, test your limits. Your a good kid I can see you want to help and we will give you the opportunities to do that." You nodded it did sound good, the chance to practice using this gift away from people, in a safe and controlled environment the only people around would be able to dodge and escape if things did go wrong you looked at your hands for a moment.

"...You'd really help me?"he nodded

"Not just you but we will also help protect those closest to you" you looked away

"Don’t have anyone." He stopped at that

"What? Your alone?" You shrugged nodding throwing your bag on your shoulder

"You mean family right? Don’t have one I told you bad things happen when I loose my control, I just have foster homes well had I left,better off on my own" you held his gaze you were testing him, letting him know exactly what you'd done with out saying the words guard up and waiting to see if he'd try to over power you or change his mind. He didn't know what to say to that, he could hear the others through the comms warning him to back off asking if he wanted back up, he ignored them you had killed them accidentally that much was clear. You had no one he couldn't imagine just what you had been through, but he also knew this was a test he had done it himself when he was younger, you were waiting to see if he would judge you or leave you here alone, the others wont understand that’s why they were panicking telling him to leave if he did you'd never trust them again something none of them could risk, but it was also your way of trying to push them away. He shook his head coming closer slowing when your eyes began to glow and the floor rippled beneath his feet he raised his hands slowly the others were shouting down the line at him but you was getting defensive not readying for an attack.

"That’s why we want to help you, so nothing like that happens again I cant imagine what you've been through or what it was like but you don't have to be alone anymore or be scared" you believed him, something told you he understood pulling back from the concrete, he had plenty of time to attack you but didn't.

"And you wont be mad if I break something?" He shook his head releasing a breath he wasn't aware he was holding

"If you break something you can keep practicing until you fix it" you contemplated for a second.

"Okay then but just to see if I can fit in, don't let them make me jump.....I don't wanna shank them....you got off lightly it was aiming to go straight threw to your face... I sort of caught it a little" Bruce tensed but quickly controlled himself, the last thing you needed was to see he was slightly afraid of your gift it could feed your own fear.

"They already know, they've been watching in case they needed to help if things went bad its up to you" you gulped and nodded a little as he began walking away you hesitated looking the opposite way you could run, forget this whole meeting and leave, you sighed watching his back you had no doubt he was giving you the chance to leave you took a deep breath they could help and if it does become a con you would find a way to leave and disappear nodding you quickly jogged up behind him following him to the bat mobile he opened the back revealing two seats.

"This thing has extra seats?" He smirked down at you

"Well this one does some of the others don't." You tilted your head

"How many of them do you have?" He chuckled as you slid into the seat

"Quite a few buckle up and hold on" he said nodding the the strategically placed grab rails the shut the door a few seconds later you were moving. You shivered a little nervous you didn't think it was a bad thing to go and train somewhere more secure but one mistake and you could easily become an enemy and contrary to what they may believe you couldn't take any of them on you was still a human you still bled. You sighed leaning back a little resting your head on the seat behind you as he drove you god knows where.

#dc imagine #dc x reader #dc x you #dc x y/n #justice league #justice league x reader

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artificialqueens · 5 years ago

Text

Everything Has Changed (Crystal x Gigi) - Ashley

A/N: Crystal has spent years watching her ex-best friend and next door neighbour, Gigi, rise to the top of their High School food chain, never even uttering a word to her as she waits for the bus each morning. What will happen when Crystal’s house floods and she is finds herself sleeping on Gigi’s floor for a week?

Hello again! I finally jumped on the s12 girls band wagon - hope you guys like. This plot really gave me 2013 Wattpad vibes but I decided to embrace and roll with it. Thanks sooooo much to Meggie for beta-ing! Concrit welcome. Xoxo Ashley

The day began as generic as any other for Crystal.

A spurt of optimism filled her as she slurped down the last of her cereal and made her way outside - failing to notice the big splodge of milk that would be visible on her shirt until the fourth period. The sun was waving down on her, the slight hum of insects and the sight of her neighbour with a pair of shears at hand reminding her that spring was now in full bloom.

“Morning Crystal,” the familiar voice called over the fence.

“Morning!” She waved back at the woman who she would have once called a second mother, the auntie she had never had.

“When’s your mom back?” Maria asked as Crystal neared the end of the driveway. “I’m due a coffee date!”

“A week on Friday.” Crystal smiled back at her, remembering the days when she and Gigi used to join them on their mothers’ meetings, sipping lemonade and pretending to be sophisticated on the opposite side of the cafe. Remembering how Gigi would always make her laugh and she’d end off spitting her soda out anyway and ruining their facade.

Pulling her headphones out of her bag as she said goodbye, she looked up at the girl whose laugh was currently leaping around inside her head like a carousel, whose grinning face was a portrait in Crystal’s brain as clear as the lakes they used to play in.

Only now she wasn’t grinning quite the same.

Taking her usual seat at the bench, she glanced across at Gigi: her dark hair coiffed to perfection, her lips lined just at the right spot, her jet black beauty mark contrasting against her Snow White complexion. She was the type of girl who needed to be painted.

Their eyes met briefly, as they often did on mornings like this, Crystal darting hers away quickly in a chaotic manner and looking at her phone instead: seven twenty-seven. Her bus would be here in six minutes. Nicky would be here in three.

For a split second, she thought she felt Gigi’s eyes looking back on her but she didn’t dare look.

Instead, she tried to think of ways that she could stop herself from reading the freckles on her old friend’s arm as if they were the dictionary definition of perfection. She thought about how Gig’s mascara may have been left on from the night before, of how she’d seen the straight-A student climb out of her window and down her drainpipe like Catwoman herself to steal away into the night. Of how the Gigi she knew in reality was anything but the flawless girl that was adored around the halls.

Seven-thirty. The familiar horn rang before Gigi went to sit shotgun in her best friend’s car. Crystal let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding along with a sigh of relief that the girl was out of sight and out of mind for the day.

Or at least until they had Chemistry together in the third period.

***

“Oh my god,” Crystal spoke aloud, her body frozen for a second as she absorbed the scene in front of her.

Like something from a disaster movie, she watched as water sprayed from the enormous hole in her living room ceiling, her socks already damp through her trainers.

Her flight or fight reflexes kicking in, Crystal did the first thing her brain told her to do which was to run next door and ring their bell as many times as she could, managing to slip on her lawn and stain the knees of her jeans whilst doing so.

“Hi?” Gigi looked Crystal up and down, her nose wrinkling with curiosity as she took in the other girl’s dishevelled state, her greeting more of a question than a welcome.

“Hi.” Crystal paused, trying to think of how she could explain to Gigi that she’d simply walked through her front door after school into a foot of brown water, a smell that matched that description almost exactly, and a giant hole in the ceiling that was firing said brown water at her like an army missile.

“Can I speak to your mom?”

***

Crystal felt her body relax slightly as she took a sip of the lemonade that was placed in front of her, a twinge of a feeling she couldn’t quite name gnawing at her when she realised that Gigi hadn’t asked what she wanted to drink, simply bringing her what had always brought comfort as a child.

She felt simultaneously overwhelmed and comforted by the sight around her, Gigi sitting in her usual seat as her hands toyed with the couch cushions. Only now an elephant sat between the pair of them, an awkward silence taking over every last air molecule in the room.

Memories flooded back to her as she let her eyes wander: the mantlepiece she had chipped her tooth on, the doors they would prance through as they pretended to be contestants on America’s Next Top Model once everyone was asleep.

Crystal felt her hands starting to sweat, rubbing them against her jeans rather frantically. She’d always managed to cope on a morning or in school - sure, sometimes the sight of Gigi sent her into a spiral of self-doubt and questions, but it was never something completely out of her control, never something that bothered her to such a great extent.

Maybe it was that she’d lost the privilege of her headphones to distract her from her past.

Maybe it was how familiar her surroundings were.

Maybe it was how natural it had first felt as she sat in Gigi’s living room.

Just as she heard the other girl start to speak, attempting to cut the tension that wrapped around the pair of them like thick green vines, they were saved by Maria entering the room again, phone in hand.

“So, your hot water tank has burst!” She looked at Crystal and let out a frustrated laugh. “The plumbers are starting to clear up now but they think it’s going to take a full week. I’m sorry sweetie. I’ve called your Mom and she’s happy for you to stay here with us and is going to try to leave her conference early.”

Maria went on to talk about getting essentials after the day’s work was finished and the logistics of their insurance but it soon became a gust of wind that swept right over Crystal’s head.

“I don’t need to say here, don’t worry!” Crystal smiled at Maria, grateful for her generosity but feeling the prick of tears at the back of her eyes daring to fall. Her eyes looked absolutely anywhere but at Gigi. “I can always go visit my family in Missouri for a week, I haven’t seen them for a while.”

“I dunno how your mom would feel about you missing a week of school, this is senior year now.” Maria placed a tentative hand on Crystal’s, clearly sensing the anxiety that was shooting out of her like flaming arrows. “Don’t stress! Think of it as one long week-long sleepover. Just like old times!”

Crystal couldn’t tell if she was trapped in heaven or hell but she knew one thing for sure, it wouldn’t be like old times.

***

Crystal found it strange how Gigi’s bedroom was so similar to how it was when they were younger, yet simultaneously different in certain, striking ways.

The antithesis to Crystal’s walls of clutter, Gigi’s room had always been pristine and that hadn’t changed. Placed on her dressing table were framed photos of her and her friends, one of her and Nicky catching Crystal’s eye.

She’d never grown close to Nicky. Even though a part of Crystal disliked her for the shit music she blasted from her sports car and for stealing away her best friend - the other, more loving side of her told her that Nicky didn’t really seem to have a bad bone in her body and that she must be fun if Gigi was so fond of her.

Crystal always found herself trusting Gigi’s judgement even though they were no longer friends, even though that judgment was cast badly upon herself.

Her eyes made their way to the other side of the room, a warm, fuzzy feeling taking over her body as she looked at Gigi’s huge world map that hung in front of her.

Pink pins for where she’d been and blue pins for where she wanted to go. Missouri caught her eye, bright pink straight away, Crystal remembering how excited Gigi had been to change its colour after she had joined one of her visits home in the holidays, how interested she was in exploring the lakes that raised Crystal. She knew Gigi would always be an explorer, it was just a shame that she was no longer the trusty navigator that bounced by her side.

Before she knew it, her hands were running across the books on Gigi’s shelves, stopping on her worn-out copy of Emma.

She never hated Gigi for the fact they were not friends anymore. She knew it happened to loads of pairs like themselves, that it’s natural to drift apart at high school and find different interests. Crystal often prided herself on being mature and understanding, knowing that sometimes there were deeper things in other people’s minds that she just had to accept. Yet at that moment, she couldn’t deny that the sight of the last birthday present she had bought for Gigi sitting front and centre, it’s pages worn and dog-eared, happened to sting that tiny bit.

“It’s not a museum,” Gigi snapped at her from across the room, only for her own face to fall a little when she saw Crystal’s - the slap of instant regret bright red on her cheeks.

“Sorry.” She moved over to the bookshelf, pulling the copy out and holding it in her manicured hands as though it were made of papier-mache. “Can you remember I used to take it out at the library so much? You gave it to me and told me it was so I never had to hide it to stop anyone else borrowing it anymore.”

Crystal’s heart dipped a whole centimetre in her chest.

Of course she remembered.

Silence enveloped the pair yet again as Crystal’s makeshift bed was constructed on the floor, a look on Gigi’s face that Crystal couldn’t quite piece together.

Trying to fight the awkwardness, Crystal pulled out her phone and began to scroll down her Instagram feed aimlessly, no one she could message even springing to her mind.

“Oh my god, we cannot do this all week,” Gigi blurted out what she’d been trying to contain all in one breath, causing Crystal to laugh at the girl’s inability to remain silent for any given period of time. And before she knew it Gigi was laughing too, the pair almost automatically falling back into that lull that once fell so naturally. Chatting more and more naturally as the drama of Top Model made up their background music.

There, underneath the plastic demeanour, was Crystal’s old best friend.

***

At first, Crystal didn’t know where she was when she woke up, her body feeling awkward in her jeans. But her confusion slid away at the sight of Gigi at her dressing table, applying the daintiest amount of blush to her pale cheeks.

Looking down she realised she was in Gigi’s bed rather than the one made up for her on the floor, assuming that she must have drifted off whilst watching their show.

“Good morning, camper.” Gigi raised an eyebrow in her mirror and grinned, never fully turning around to look at Crystal.

“Morning.” She stretched her arms in the air, the fact that Gigi must have tucked a blanket around her whilst she slept hitting her like a tonne of bricks. “What time is it?”

“Quarter past seven.”

“Oh. That’s no good!” Crystal jumped out of the bed and began rummaging through her case quite rapidly, Gigi chuckling under her breath at the way Crystal worked as a poster girl for the chaotic good character, clearly seeing some form of adorable in the other girl’s frustration.

Pulling a leopard print shirt out of her bag, Crystal quickly removed yesterday’s jumper and spruced herself up for the day ahead, finding some blue jeans to match and throwing them on whilst Gigi carried on with her makeup in the mirror, her eyes flickering back and forth.

“I think my Mom made some breakfast if you have time. Nicky’s coming for me soon…” She trailed off almost in a defensive way, her eyes glossing back down to the palette in front of her.

“Yeah,” Crystal responded, not sure on what she was agreeing with, before starting to pack her bag for the day. “I don’t want to miss the bus, I guess I’ll see you later.”

Maybe things hadn’t changed as much as she’d thought.

***

“Ugh.” Crystal found herself longing to throw her pencil across the room in a fit of rage as she failed the seventh time to do the chemical equation in front of her.

“You know, I’m currently sitting at an A in Chemistry.” Gigi waved her hands in the air at the girl from her bed, dog-earing the corner of her book and casting it aside.

“I don’t need you to do my work for me!” Crystal squealed as she moved the paper away from Gigi’s peeping eyes, determined to finish the question.

This was now her third night in the Goode household and she was starting to scare herself at how easily she fell back into place with Gigi when no one else was around. They had spent the past few days catching each other up on their lives, watching crap TV and just being together.

It was safe to say that Crystal was starting to see the beams of a happier Gigi shine through the cracks, a Gigi who wasn’t afraid to be rough around the edges.

But her hopes were kept low each morning when they parted their usual ways at the social jungle of their high school.

“I’m not saying I’ll do it for you, I’ll just help.” Gigi moved closer and Crystal could feel the warmth of her body on her own. The tiniest contact sending her brain in circles.“Besides, I did this three days ago; I don’t know why you’re hiding the questions.”

“Okay, but only if we do something fun after.”

“Actually.” Gigi paused and gave Crystal the grin of an excited puppy. “I have the perfect game to make up some lost time.”

***

“I’ll start.” An idea popped into Crystal’s head as she turned to face Gigi with excitement. “Number one: where do you go when you sneak off in the middle of the night?”

“Do you spy on me?” Gigi opened her jaw wide, causing Crystal to go into panic mode before releasing she was simply playing. “Sometimes it’s to meet people by the quarry and have a drink. Sometimes I just like to go get some fresh air alone.”

Crystal could sense she wasn’t getting a full answer but didn’t want to pry, preparing herself for what she’d be asked.

“Hmm.” Gigi giggled to herself as she gave Crystal a once over. Crystal could almost see the lightbulb pop out of her pretty little head when she thought of a question. “Number two: do you think Mr. Charles has a crush on you?”

Taking Crystal by surprise, it took her a minute to gain her composure. “What sort of question is that?”

“A genuine one!” Gigi tried to pull a straight face. “I see the way he’s always staring at you, putting his hand in your hair when he checks your work.”

“Oh my god, you’re disgusting.” Crystal smacked the other girl with a pillow resulting in the biggest scene of dramatics she’d witnessed since their school’s production of Les Mis.

The questions began to roll one after the other, starting off as fun and light-hearted.

“Where do you even sit at lunch?”

…

“Pasta or pizza?”

….

“When did you lose your virginity?”

….

“Was Poland as good as you thought it would be?”

…

“Do you remember our time capsule?”

…

But as the sky outside started to darken, their subject matter deepened. It has reached that time of night where boundaries dilapidated and unbreached territory began to be uncrossed.

“Number 10.” Crystal paused, building up the courage to finally breach the topic the pair has shied away from all week. “Was it because everyone called me a dyke? Is that why we’re not friends?”

Crystal watched as her friend winced - wishing so much that she could just pretend that period had never occurred and never to speak about it, but knowing that it was a bridge both she and Gigi needed to cross and it would be much better if they could cross it together, stopping each other from falling between the jagged planks.

“Partly, yeah.” Gigi nodded and looked Crystal in the eyes.

Really, really looked into her eyes.

“I don’t think I thought that at the time, I told myself we just had different interests. But I think that sometimes I just get so caught up in what people think about me, I get lost in what’s right and wrong. I’ve just always wanted to be ‘perfect.’ I lost sight of what that even meant. But I never, ever cared what you thought about me. Not in that way, at least…” She trailed off and Crystal placed a comforting hand over hers, letting her know that she was loved. “I’m so sorry.” A single tear fell down her face. The first time Crystal had seen her cry since they were seven. “Do you hate me?”

“No.” Crystal squeezed her hand tighter.

It was the truth. Even though sometimes she wanted to, she couldn’t have ever hated Gigi even if she tried.

She knew that her actions were wrong, she knew that she couldn’t make excuses for not being there, for not trying to stop it. She knew that things wouldn’t magically click back to how they used to. But she also knew that Gigi was sorry.

Scars took time to heal.

And they’d still be visible even once they had.

But people say they only make someone stronger.

“If I was you, I think I’d hate me. Feel free to slap me if you want.”

“Do you really want me to slap you?” Crystal raised an eyebrow to the girl.

“No.” Gigi sighed. “And you just wasted your question.”

“Fuck sake.” Crystal found herself blushing for no apparent reason. She guessed that Gigi just brought out the nervous side of her sometimes.

“Number thirteen: what does your tattoo say?”

Crystal was a deer in the headlights.

Her tattoo - the most genius yet idiotic idea she’d ever had in her life.

Aged 16, still reeling in that high you get from a gig with a fake ID at the ready.

Somewhere nice and hidden where hardly anyone would see, figuring she’d never have to explain it to anyone she wasn’t intimate with, always having the open option to lie about it’s meaning to save embarrassment.

But Gigi had seen it.

She thought of the past few days when they’d both been getting ready for school.

Never really processing it herself, she had peaked at Gigi’s body - slight glances at the way her ribs and clavicle jutted out through her skin.

She didn’t realise Gigi had been looking back.

“One Direction,” she responded after what was probably a longer than socially-acceptable pause.

“One Direction?” Gigi exclaimed back, wrinkling her nose and opening her mouth wide at the girl.

“Yes.” Crystal replied seriously, trying to stop the laugh from slipping through her lips. “One Direction.”

“That is weird on so many levels, Crystal.” Gigi shook her head and started to laugh. “You mean to tell me that when you sit on the bench with that unapproachable look on your face wearing black eyeliner thicker than your wrists, you’re blasting Truly, Madly, Deeply from your headphones?”

“Yep,” she simply stated. Strangely it had never occurred to her before that as she made hidden glances at Gigi each morning, Gigi was taking them back just the same.

“Crystal Elizabeth Methyd, you never fail to surprise me.”

***

“You don’t need to feel bad about leaving me, I’ve got stuff to do,” Crystal pleaded as Gigi scavenged through her closet like an excited child with their first-ever Barbie doll.

It was Thursday night and the end of Crystal’s impromptu vacation in the Goode household. Her typical night consisted of homework, pizza, and reading old fan-fiction until four AM.

Gigi had different ideas.

“How many parties have you been to in high school?”

“None,” Crystal answered, not even attempting to slip out a lie.

“Exactly,” Gigi replied before settling on a pink latex dress and throwing it in Crystal’s direction.

“You don’t have to feel guilty about me missing out, I’ve never wanted to and we have school tomorrow!” Crystal examined the dress, her eyes widening at the thought of how much skin it would show.

“Maybe I just want you there.” Gigi stopped as she settled on her own dress. “Maybe I just enjoy your company.”

Crystal didn’t need to be told twice.

“Fine.” She responded, resulting in some excited squealing and hand-clapping from the other side of the room. “But I just can’t wear this.”

“Sure you can, just undo the zipper, step into it, put your arms through the sleeves and do it back up again. It’s not that hard. I can help if you’d like?”

Crystal tried hard not to give her the satisfaction of a laugh but once again failed. “You know what I meant.”

“At least try! I spent good money on that and it hangs off my body. You’ve got the curves to fill it at least.”

Trying her hardest not to blush, Crystal gave in and tried the dress on, surprising herself at how good it actually looked.

“See!” Gigi motioned her hands up and down at Crystal’s body. “I know these things.”

It was safe to say that Crystal was waiting for the day she’d win one of her verbal battles with Gigi Goode. Yet she was never really that annoyed when she lost them.

***

Although a small part of her wished she was curled up in bed with a bag of M&Ms watching a movie, Crystal was enjoying herself.

Yes, she had spent the majority of the night by Gigi’s side, dancing like idiots and watching people hook up, but she still found herself branching out in smaller ways, taking as many steps as her size fives could - partly because she wanted to and partly because of the smile she saw on Gigi’s face as she conversed with Nicky and the other girls. Although still sceptical around them, Crystal was happy finding common ground with Gigi’s friends, even seeing a goofy side of Nicky that she didn’t even know was there.

Distracted by her thoughts, she hadn’t even realised there was someone next to her at the punch bowl until he spoke.

“Have we met?” He looked Crystal up and down with a smile.

Yes, she thought to herself. We have around 10 hours of class together each week. But being polite and trying her hardest to make friends she didn’t dare say that aloud. “I think I’ve seen you around, I’m Crystal.”

“Josh.” He took her hand and shook it, holding on for maybe a second longer than normal. “Bit less exciting than Crystal.”

“My mom was really into Pokemon during her pregnancy,” she responded. However, before her joke could be processed she felt the red punch from the boy’s hand splash across her front.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” He looked at Crystal apologetically before rushing to grab a dishtowel. “I hope I’ve not stained your dress.”

“It’s Gigi’s so I think you’d be feeling her wrath rather than mine.” Crystal went to reach for the towel only for the boy to start wiping away at her front.

“Oh, I can do that.” She went to swat his hand away when they were interrupted by a familiar cough.

“God, Gigi, you ought to keep that one on a leash.” One of her friends muttered under their breath, just loud enough for Crystal to hear and take a step backwards.

She watched her friend’s face turn at the sight, watched her mouth open and close twice before she spoke. “Do you mind moving away from my friend?”

“Gigi, it’s fine,” Crystal responded as the boy she was talking to leapt away from her and raised his hands in the air. “I can handle myself.”

“Nicky will drop you off home.” She ignored Crystal’s words before turning to leave the room. “I think I’m gonna walk.”

“Wait.” Crystal shouted after her as she made her exit, just the two of them standing in the large foyer, Gigi haphazardly raking around for her snakeskin jacket. “I was just being friendly, I don’t see the problem.”

“That’s because you’re naive. You let people take advantage of you.” Gigi turned to face Crystal, finally finding her jacket and slinging it over her thin frame.

“Or maybe you’re just a jealous bitch who can’t deal with the attention being on someone else for a second.” Crystal spat back at her, shocking herself with her words.

It was a word that had floated around a lot since Gigi became popular but it had never quite reached the surface. She knew Gigi wasn’t a bitch - remembering the time she spent seven hours making her a friendship bracelet in all her favourite colours, the time they went to the theme park and they rode all the scary rides even though Gigi was terrified of them, just so her friend would be happy. She knew her intentions were good in scaring the boy away, a part of her just wished that Gigi would stop looking at her like the lost puppy she was in freshman year. But that’s what came out of her mouth, and she couldn’t take it back now.

She watched Gigi stop in her tracks. Bending down and resting her body on the shoe rack below her.

“I’m sorry.” Crystal went to join her side. “I didn’t mean that. I know you mean the best, I just don’t need you to defend me.”

“You’re right,” she spoke, clear frustration seeping from somewhere deeper than their current argument, a small crack in her voice. Once again Crystal had hit the wall in Gigi that she was yet to break down. “I just want you to understand.”

“Then help me to.” Crystal reached a hand out to her, squeezing, once, twice.

At first, she remained still, but Crystal then saw the switch flip. Gigi squeezed back.

“I need to steal a shovel.”

***

The sky around the pair was still dark, their two phone torches shining down on the route that their feet had danced across so many times.

Although Crystal knew that they should probably wait till morning and that Maria would probably realise they were gone, she didn’t want to sacrifice Gigi opening up to her, her heart beating faster and faster as they walked through the meadow.

“I’m pretty sure there’s still another six years till we’re supposed to dig this up.” Crystal shivered, the side effects of the punch she drank starting to wear off. “I can’t believe Gigi Goode is voluntarily breaking rules!”

“Shut up.” She gave Crystal a friendly punch before taking off her coat and wrapping it around her friend’s shoulders, Crystal still feeling a pang of guilt for the way she spoke to Gigi at the party, knowing that she had been nothing but kind to her the past week they had lived together.

“Here.” Crystal stopped, pointing at the signpost marking their spot, remembering the day they buried their time capsule as if it were yesterday.

***

“Is this a report card?” Crystal laughed as she shone her torch at the paper in front of her.

“Oh my god, yes!” Gigi took the paper in her hands. “I didn’t want my Mom to find out I got a C in music class.”

“Classic Gigi.” Crystal sighed.

Pulling out the friendship bracelet she had made years before, Gigi gasped before grabbing Crystal’s arm and sliding it on. “As if it still fits.”

As the girls waded their way through cinema tickets and keyrings, they found themselves falling back into their old selves more and more - getting lost in conversation as the night faded away and the sun started to rise.

“I don’t remember this being in here.” Crystal pulled out a photograph of the pair of them in Missouri, aged fourteen, grinning like idiots on Crystal’s grandma’s porch.

Flipping it over, she recognised Gigi’s sophisticated scrawl on the back::

This week I finally got to go with Crystal when she visited home. It was so amazing because I hate it so much when she isn’t here, nothing is fun. When I’m with Crystal I don’t have to be perfect - I wish we could grow old together, just the two of us in our own land away from everyone else, everything would be so, so much easier.

There was more but Crystal stopped, looking up to her best friend’s nervous face to realise it was blurry. She hadn’t even realised she was crying.

“Crystal.” Gigi wiped her tears away with her thumb, only leaving her hands on her friend’s cheeks once she was done.

They were freezing yet it made Crystal’s whole body burst up in flames.

Crystal thought of all the sleepless nights and daydreams where she’d pictured this moment.

Somehow it was better than all of them combined.

Their lips touched, soft at first, gentle, afraid to hurt each other. Then their kiss grew deeper, it was hungry, passionate, it had been locked in a cage for years and years only finally to be released.

Crystal didn’t know how long they’d been kissing for when Gigi pulled away, but she wouldn’t have minded if it had been forever.

“I was scared. A scared girl who pushed you away instead of accepting who I was. It’s more, Crystal, you know it’s more. It’s always been more.”

Crystal nodded, placing her hands on the girl’s shoulders as she carried on her choked sentences.

“This past week, as corny as it sounds I didn’t just find you again, I found the old me.”

“Well, we’re both here to stay,” Crystal whispered before pulling the girl into another embrace which somehow dared to be better than their last. “Come on, you’re shivering, let’s get you home.”

***

Crystal woke with the sun beaming through the window, her body perfectly entwined with Gigi’s.

At first, she thought she had dreamt it: their kiss at the meadow, the way she went to sleep on the floor and felt Gigi’s arm drop down from her bed, her breasts soft as silk and her moans sending Crystal insane.

But the way Gigi’s head nestled into her collarbone told her she hadn’t.

She wanted to freeze the moment in a frame and relive it forever - the fear hitting her that Gigi would act cool like it was no big deal.

She lay a kiss on her head before making her way for a shower - the first time all week that she hadn’t woken up to Gigi perfecting her makeup or already dressed- the perfect girl’s routine thrown out the window as she lay in bed.

After returning from the shower, she noticed Gigi was awake, rushing to get ready.

“C’mon.” She looked Crystal up and down. “We’ll be late.”

***

Crystal’s palms became heavy with sweat as she sat next to Gigi on the bench.

Maybe she regretted it. Maybe it was some sort of sick joke. Why hadn’t she spoken about it? Was she being off with her, or was she just tired?

Crystal felt sick, checking her phone for the time: seven twenty-five.

She couldn’t wait till Nicky got here, the sight of Gigi’s face next to her sending her brain into spirals of existentialism.

She thought about this time on Monday. How much had changed in a week? Or in reality how much it had gone back to the way it was before.

Whatever would happen next she just thanked God/the man who fitted her water heater that at least it happened - the love bite on her neck marking that no one could take this away from her.

Maybe Gigi would go further in denial - Crystal watched her as she tapped her foot on the ground.

“Are you not gonna give me a headphone?” Gigi smiled at her, snapping Crystal’s mind of doubt back to reality, feeling Gigi’s hand fall onto her thigh. “I fancy some One Direction.”

Pulling her phone out in excitement, Crystal’s mood quickly dipped back as she read the time: seven twenty-nine.

“Nicky will be here for you in a minute.” She gave a disheartened smile and put her phone back in her pocket.

“Oh.” Gigi moved her hand over the top of Crystal’s and grinned. “I told her not to come, figured I ought to get the bus today.”

#rpdr fanfiction #crystal methyd #gigi goode #angst #lesbian au #high school au #everything has changed #ashley #tw unconsented contact #concrit welcome #submission #crygi #s12

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kitten-mafiagang · 4 years ago

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The Disease We Are All Afraid Of [Kuroo x Reader]

(Reader's pov)

Well is it weird if im not the type of person who believes in love.Well probably because im afraid of it.Why...? did you know love can kill a person even though you dont feel it..?

symptoms...? well probably mental symptoms like depression.. or either happyness or sadness.Im no expert but i believe love consist both of the conflict of hate and guilt just my opinion though.

Hate,once you are all over nothing would change i mean some people are still keeping a tight hold to the spider's string and still blinded by their love to someone even though the feelings arent the same anymore..thats why hatred would grow upon their hearts..

Guilt,regrets..? yes ofcourse one of the sickness you could get from love..regrets of cheating either loving someone because of what..? because of the pain..? or the 'love' that shares the bond of both of you..

Well theres another type of symptoms which is happyness and positivity..

First happyness,feeling butterflies at your stomach whenever you went pass him/her..? well how about the hot feeling crawling from your face until to your ears..

Well blame it to Phenylethylamine is a natural stimulant that behaves like an amphetamine. Known as the molecule of love , it is often associated with the butterflies we feel when we're around our crush.

Positivity,well if your bond to each other is strong as diamond probably we would be expecting a happy ending..

Well dont you think happy ending like in Disney princesses are the best thing you want to experience.

Well dont you know chemistry answers this feelings and not just fate.

Our emotions are build in most general definition, is a neural impulse that moves an organism to action.

Fate huh...well i believe fate is pretty they say....fate is the most prettiest lie you could hear from most people.

Being in love is affected by huge, measurable changes in the biochemistry of the brain,So dont every say "Follow what your heart says" heart just gave us the proper pump of blood and oxygen through are body and nerves.

does this mean love isn't real? It's just some brain reaction to just make us want to breed more lives?

But i never expected how much impact love changed me...

"Are you made of copper and tellurium?" kuroo asked.

"Kuroo we all now that,The four most abundant elements in the human body – Hydrogen, oxygen, carbon and nitrogen – account for more than 99 percent of the atoms inside the human body..." i answered.

"...well probably your differend" he barked back.

"and why is that..?" i asked.

"Because you're CuTe." he answered.

"....."

"Come on! answer something-"

Well being the science nerds of the class we are everyday dealing with each other's science or chemistry shits.

"(y/n)!!" he shouted from the other direction.

"what is it kuroo?"

"I know hundreds of Pi digits, but what I really want to know is the 7 digits of your phone number."

"...." he looked at me with begging eyes.

"fine"

"yay"

And theres this time

"You must be made of uranium and iodine" kuroo leaned at his chair..

"kuroo do i have to remind you that-" he cut me off

"because all I can see is U and I together."

"...."

Well hes that everyday and the next day and next next day..

Me and kuroo got partnered to research about the periodic table.

"so...whats the plan...?" i asked.

"Forget hydrogen" kuroo said seriously.

"What do you mean..? oh are you going to work on that?"

He stared at me quietly.

"you're my number one element" he smirked at me.

"...i hate you very much-"

"i love you too--"

Since the whole school year hes being like this he never miss anyday or anytime just to have a pick line from him everytime.

It was graduation

I was about to go home after it but i remembered something which is i dint encounter kuroo.Well ill be honest i like him..yeah i caught feelings but im scared that what could happen.

I entered the volleyball gym and saw kuroo with his team mates.

"k-kuroo" i called.

"oh (y/n) what are you doing here..?" he asked me.I could see his team mates peeking behind him.

"k-kuroo..."

"yeah..?" he asked.

"I'm not an astronomer..." i said and continued.

"but I still promise to give you the sun, moon, and stars...." i smiled at him

He was shock like very shock his face turned red and looked at me again.

"you are making my atomic number rise." he said..

"What's atomic number...?" taketora asked kenma and then yaku smacked taketora for being dumb.

"so...are we together..?" i asked him.

"Why don't we get together? You can test my hardness while I test your cleavage..." he teased.

"K-kuroo what the fuck--" i blushed very hard.

" I might be into physics, but I can assure you that I will never be a Bore in the bedroom." i smirked at him and its his turn to be embarrassed.

#kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsurou #haikyuu fluff #fluff #romance

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nauseateddrive · 4 years ago

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4 POEMS by Jake Sheff

Elegy for Dog I: A Failed Acrostic

January was tired when it became king. Apples here love being red in the spring, Casting shadows against the stone architraves our Kapellmeister will never live down. You Stole Apollo’s cows, and let them graze to show me Heaven’s template. Where do failed heroes go? Eucalyptus cupolas and polar icecaps Frame the downtrodden gods. But you weren’t Freakishly wrong, as I so often am, on your

Joyride through nearly twice eight years, Á la someone far from beauty’s stepmom. Copper coin or grimacing sun? I’ve got 20,000 Kor of crushed grief on this threshing floor. Shark-sparks of sadness flood the impetiginous air… How, and why, do clouds cobblestone Entire days, and lakes, when you’re not here? Fixing every broken thing, poets go where Ferns and geraniums baptize the morning.

“Jur-any-oms,” is how you’d spell it; After all, a dog’s a dog, and wisdom knows futility. Cassations make a rusty brew, to drink the truth of truths, and Kill whatever ceases wanting to be new. Stewardship, the color of gravity’s silence, naturally Houses every “glur” (a glittery blur); go chase what plays Eternal games. I hear the swans by Rooster Rock. Your handsome Face, its happy handsomeness, in memory’s eye, goes in and out of Focus; in love’s better eye: your goodness neath its everblooming ficus.

Gravity and Grace on SW Murray Scholls Drive

“Impatience has ruined many excellent men who, rejecting the slow, sure way, court destruction by rising too quickly.” Tacitus, The Annals of Imperial Rome

The traffic lights control the people’s actions, but Not their feelings, as the limits of philosophy Collide head on with the nose of a Dalmatian.

I tell you, the day is stress-testing itself, and these Sidewalks wish that it’d just gone straight. Geese Take this sky-hairing wind for granted, as they

Land on the lake like memorable speech on The sensitive soul. Time is never sharp, but it’s Cutting something in the credit union. Maybe

It’s dancing a back Corte for the woman in line Thinking about the taste of limes from Temecula As she waits for the teller. Air Alaska and that

Haunted pie in the sky are not the only reasons For all the volatility in the air today. Rushing And perfectionism both produce a loss; behind

The Safeway Pharmacy, you’ll see the small Smells of both, sloshing around to the ticking- Sound of the ocean’s tides. I must admit, I am

Frozen in place by the sight of steam from Joe’s Burgers; it is poetry’s pale tongue, rising in And arousing the air. This neighborhood’s street-

Lights are more serious than kokeshi dolls. Lights From its windows outshine poison dart frogs. Maybe to forget about life for awhile, the lamps

Are focused on The Population Bomb? ‘Easy Tiger,’ all these incidents whisper. Each day’s A sign twirler’s dais; each corner a promise

Of something more in a different direction: it isn’t A marriageable daughter or impoverishment, But inguinal ingenuity plays a part, and that isn’t

Bad at all. What oaths and paths went here Before Walmart? What voices were voided by The liquor store? What are vague’s values

When the library shares a parking lot with a 24- Hour gym and a cargo cult? Gas stations satirize The Queen of Hearts; I tell you, it makes every

Question seem incidental. Treaty-breakers in Pajamas swing on the swing sets. Was August That full of angst? It feels like autumn went too

Far on accident. Desertification, in a sugar tong Splint, takes a shot of ouzo and talks shit About the death of Brutus, but my Bible-thumping

Memory – on a ski hill in Duluth – is also too busy Watching some ducks on the lake to notice; and Desertification makes a face at me like a Swedish

Film. Poets make for poorly picked men to Familiarity’s paymaster-general. The Calvinistic Rain is an ill-starred attempt to make mayonnaise-

Fries just for me, but I must admit, it all seems – You know – cybernetic. And step-motherly as all Get out, if you ask the trees. They prefer “You

Can’t Hurry Love,” by The Supremes, to any Changes that take effect in one to two pay periods. Pretext ricochets; a perfect reverse promenade.

At Summer Lake, When the Vegetables are Sleeping

Cruelty drinks all the wine, and never gets drunk On these shores. When Summer Lake speaks, In every word, an introduction to the world. I am

Easily duped. The greatest duper duplicates my pride, Which always lingers, in the hallways of my heart And beneath the surface of Summer Lake. The sky is

Supplicating, it’s literally shaking. An hour passes Faster here, the hour always held too dearly dear In paranoid and ivied walls. The ducks can do

An unwise thing correctly, and it sounds more like Dusty than Buffalo Springfield to the enokitake Sold in Springfield, Illinois, which is the opposite

Effect it has on the wild mushrooms on these shores. On cables capable of love, the geese convince The weather to taste like kvass today. Basically,

Another Cuban Missile Crisis drowned itself just Now. The clouds might ask themselves, ‘Is lowliness Allowed here?’ To which the crows might ask,

‘Does omertà sound like lightning?’ The answer’s Oubliette is ten times worse than impotence. Summer Lake isn’t smart, but it stays quiet, like

Someone too smart to say all they know. ‘Whoa, Sweet potato,’ the capital gains tax mutters To itself, knowing that what matters doesn’t mean

A thing. Some say the lake bottom’s sands receive Commands from Hearst Castle, others say Its hands are King City’s hands, and still others

Maintain more sins have been than grains of sand Times secondary gains, and that explains The beauty and industry that none can see but

All can feel on these shores. (Some possibilities Play possum, or get opsonized by hate; this one snores Like Rip Van Winkle.) This orb-weaver spider is

The Milton Friedman of Summer Lake, the wind On her web is Grenache from The Rocks District Of Milton-Freewater AVA for the eyes. The day is

Stereotypical, although it feels like three days In one…But for the lake’s good counterfactual Questions, I would forget that some die young,

But most die wrong. I’ve tried to pick up Summer Lake’s reflections in three lines or less, but The hardest truth is your own impotence. Oh,

It’s hard to hand your power over to a thing No one can see. Hopped up on distinctions – not The obvious distinctions – Summer Lake is pretty;

Cold, but pretty! In the distance, with so many Intercessory prayers, hot air balloons are rising; Shaped like teardrops, upside down and rising.

This lake re-something-or-anothered me. Are first Impressions wrong sometimes? I am a season’s Golden calf, according to the sunlight, doing

A prospector’s jig on the surface of Summer Lake. If not for the Weimar Republic’s wooden- Headedness, I’d set down my heart-song and

Listen to reason on these shores. I never trust An activist guitar, if the weather is socially clumsy. The future is reflected on the lake: it always

Laughs at us – between its math and gratitude Lessons – and never thinks of (or gives thanks to) Us enough. The presence in the lake juniors

My ears. The day is not too baffling, nor is it Jane Eyre. Space-themed and spiritual, some autumn Leaves are swimming in the rain. The ducks arrest

My attention in the mardy weather, even though they Must know my attention is dying. The barbed wire Around my stated goal is an outcome out of

Their control. Picnickers picnic with acorns and apricots, On blankets covering Holy Schnikey’s death mask. My unsandaled thoughts thrive and increase on these,

And no other shores. They are pets for the days less Important than love, when Summer Lake says it’s Humble, because it knows the right thing to say.

Summer Lake gives the comfort of commonly held And seriously absurd beliefs to the blue heron. Nothing is wrong with this lake or anything in it,

Not even the ghost of Amerigo Vespucci. It’s all so Simple to the stiff-necked molecules of water, made out Of frogs and snails and puppy-dog’s tails. These thoughts

Are fine manna in a fine ditch. Post-structuralist squirrels Can tell my heart’s in Italy, and I’m in the intellectual Laity. Chivalry’s technician sees my shovel, and they say,

‘You’ve got to hand it to him.’ Neurocysticercosis Sets the bar high; it looks at this park, and thinks The smartest monkey drew the perfect landscape.

That’s this maple tree’s previous disease, its precious One. It unfurls the ferns of my firm and foremost Beliefs, I’m told, to partialize insufferable vastidity.

We Install a Sump Pump on (What Used To Be) a Holiday (Take 2)

The oppressive heat was born a fully grown Man. I admire the result of its effort, but Despise the means of achieving it. My wife Asserts her individuality in the gunk; her Body’s allegations aren’t too soft or hard today. Her self-interest seems to have drowned in the vortex.

Our little garden knows flippancy with regards To privacy is unwise. The stepping stones can Only blather, as slugs draw nomograms on Their faces. My wife’s body speaks Proto-Indo- European in the vortex and denim overalls. Marc Chagall’s The Poet studies her. He calls her

‘Innocence: The opposite of life! A criminal with A badge!’ I hand her the tools of a crude and Rudimentary faith, and she says, ‘Jill, great books Make fine shackles.’ Her arms only have An administrative objective in the vortex, but They are where good things come from.

Jake Sheff is a pediatrician in Oregon and veteran of the US Air Force. He's married with a daughter and whole lot of pets. Poems of Jake’s are in Radius, The Ekphrastic Review, Crab Orchard Review, The Cossack Review and elsewhere. He won 1st place in the 2017 SFPA speculative poetry contest and a Laureate's Choice prize in the 2019 Maria W. Faust Sonnet Contest. Past poems and short stories have been nominated for the Best of the Net Anthology and the Pushcart Prize. His chapbook is “Looting Versailles” (Alabaster Leaves Publishing).

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circumstellars · 4 years ago

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This might actually come in two parts, because I thought of a small follow-up I want to do... maybe.

Small ficlet (1600ish words again) featuring Five & Ben, 12 years old. Features my headcanon/theory that Ben was killed by The Horror unexpectedly, not murdered by anyone else. I’m sorry I’m rusty with writing, as I said I don’t often do it anymore. All mistakes are my sad little failures. Inspired by this request by @five-fucking-hargreeves:

1:07 AM

Five hated time.

Literally, time itself. The whole concept is genuinely bonkers and frankly, is an unnecessary evil. Anyone with a mouth will tell you time is like a river, a constant, gentle flow that is quick to escape through your fingers.

1:08 AM

Time was too slow for Five. Time was spilt molasses, a slow trail of amber creeping along a crease in the universe. Instead of swimming through it like water, time threatened to swallow Five up in its viscous, arcane pools.

He stood at its shoreline and glowered. Soon.

1:09 AM

Fucking finally. He held a deep breath in and patiently listened to the gentle orchestra of creaks and groans performed by their century old mansion.

Then, without fail: the timely, brisk footsteps of his father. Five rather thought his father's predictability was his biggest weakness. It's what he hopes will someday be his undoing (whether it should be at Five's own hands or not, he wasn't sure yet).

The steady sound of Sir Reginald's footsteps disappeared into his locked study.

Five rounded the corner, moving as lightly as he could on the pads of his toes. The marble floors felt like never-ending sheets of ice, but he knew he wouldn't make it the whole way in one jump; last time he ended up in the attic... locked from the outside. Honestly, that was pretty scary.

He swiftly made his way down the hall, past Diego, Allison and Klaus' respective rooms, and down the first 3 stairs of the main staircase before he was able to see the nearest entrance to the kitchen. Without stopping, Five took in a breath and jumped.

That wasn't so hard.

He was standing on the coils of the stove, but he was in the kitchen.

Five huffed in triumph and hopped off the stovetop. Studiously and nimbly he moved down the list, though his stomach howled at him to move it along already - he was twelve now and lately the portions at dinner were looking smaller and smaller. Knife. Plate. Mom insisted the only thing changing was Five himself, something about sprouting weeds, metaphors that make him roll his eyes every time. Bread. Marshmallows. Peanu-- Wait, what? Where is the peanut butter?

Five's brow creased with irritation.

'It's in the freezer.'

The yelp that escaped him was completely involuntary. Five snapped around, genuinely surprised to find his brother was sitting just out of reach of the yellow stove light. Ben was folded over on a stool, tucked away between a china cabinet and the freezer box. He inhaled wetly.

'Thanks,' Five said slowly, and he peered at Ben as he shuffled toward the freezer box. Ben didn't return his look. His brother wasn't in his pajamas, the same ones they all wore; Ben was still in the white linen shirt and trousers Mom had put him in earlier that day. Even in the dull glow of the stove light, Five saw the jagged path of dried blood that had soaked a crimson belt into Ben's midsection.

He'd had an accident on their mission today.

Five looked away and pulled the peanut butter out of the freezer box, careful to let the lid drop quietly. 'Why did you know it was in the freezer?'

Ben hesitated. His arms were crossed and he squeezed his biceps visibly tight. Five had always been very patient with Ben - he was one of the least annoying people in this house, and he might even admit he was rather fond of him at times. A decidedly resigned sigh echoed in the large, empty kitchen. 'Klaus. Don't tell on me.'

Five pretended to mull this request over. His brother is naïve; Five would rather chew on nail clippings than give up info to Klaus.

Besides, he liked Ben.

'Klaus is stupid. One wrong move and someone's going to tell Dad he sneaks out to smoke cigarettes.'

'Sometimes it's glue.'

'You can't smoke glue, Ben.'

Ben exhaled, though Five could tell he was stuffy with snot. 'He sniffs it, Five.'

In a rare bout of sheepishness, Five felt his cheeks warm. 'Whatever. Like I care what weird things that lunatic puts up his nose.' He waves the jar of peanut butter in a careless gesture. 'Unless it shuts him up, it's not working.'

Ben didn't respond. Things fell quiet around them.

A dull ache bloomed in Five's chest. He really didn't want to revisit today's incident. Usually they don't finish a mission with anything more than a scrape or a few bruises, so seeing Ben as heavily injured as he was secretly terrified Five. He shook his head and proverbially shed the darker thoughts. He shuffled uncomfortably on the freezing tile floor.

'Five.'

When Ben's voice came, it was painfully thin. He was still stooped over, his soft, black fringe obscuring his face at this angle.

'Yeah?'

'If... if it happens again, like really, really bad... are you-' Ben choked a bit. 'Are y-you going to have to kill me?'

Five's stomach dropped into the floor. The next breath he took in burned his lungs. The kitchen felt like it was shrinking. '... What?' The sound that came out was more air than word, and Five couldn't seem to feel his toes anymore.

'Five-'

'Why? Why would we do that? Why... why would you think that?' Five found his voice, but his words came out far more accusatory than he meant. He realised right away his anger wasn't with Ben: it was with himself. What in any holy deity's name had he done to make Ben think this garbage?

He didn't think twice about closing the gap between them with a jump. Five immediately dropped to his knees, letting the peanut butter go forgotten on the ground nearby.

Ben was sat a little taller than him in this position, and Five tried to catch his eyes with his own. He persisted, 'Why?'

He felt his brow falling and held as firm as he could to stop his expression from collapsing completely.

'I-I-If It doesn't stop, Five, if It doesn't stop you'll have to kill me, won't you!?' This time Ben was powerless against the tears. In the dim light Five caught sight of wayward tracks left from an earlier time dried on his brother's cheeks, but they quickly disappeared under fresh droplets that were racing toward his chin. Ben was sobbing with his whole chest, and Five channeled everything he was feeling into the tight balls of the fists held at his sides.

'Never. Understand me? Never.' He tentatively reached out, and as softly as he could grasped at Ben's knee. He willed as much as he could into that touch, trying as hard as possible to convey his words. 'Never.' If something did happen, Five would have to simply find another way to fix things; they all would have to. It's logical, the only right answer. Killing Ben was never on the table, Five would never allow something so ludicrous to be suggested by anyone in the first place.

Ben finally tilted his head upward, and the look in his eyes sent a sharp fracture straight through Five's heart. Big, fat teardrops were leaking from both of his brother's eyes. 'Please, please don't kill me...'

Faster than even Five has ever moved, Ben flung himself at Five and wrapped both arms in a vice grip around his midsection. It sent both brothers sliding back a bit on the tile, and instinctively Five in turn wrapped around Ben to keep them upright.

'Please, please, please. I'll get better, I will. Please, please...'

The tiny pleas were rough and stuttered and muffled into Five's neck, interrupted by sobs and hiccups. Words would never impart the relentless, tormenting nightmare of dying at his own siblings' hands.

They sat there on the kitchen floor for a time, Five cradling his brother awkwardly but tightly, knitted expression buried into Ben's tangled hair.

As the shaking in Ben's chest slowed, fury gave way to heartache for Five. Dad may have treated them like monsters, but he knew better. They were valuable. They were powerful. That scared Dad.

Five wasn't scared of Ben.

'It might happen,' he began after some time, his chin brushing the top of Ben's head as he spoke. 'But I'll be ready if it does.'

Ben pulled away just enough to wipe a long trail of snot away from his nose with a linen sleeve. 'How do you know?'

Five glanced at him, saying plainly, 'I'm faster.'

In truth, he was already planning to forgo sleep and work on equations in his room as soon as possible. He doesn't actually know how he would stop Ben from losing control of the beast inside him, but of one thing he was absolutely sure: he won't let Ben die. He will practice spatial jumps until every molecule in his body surrendered, until he can manipulate all of space-time itself: Ben will not die.

'Five -'

'I know. Dad doesn't know shit. Just trust me.' Five searched Ben's face, looking for any sign of understanding the confidence he has in this. 'Everything is going to be okay.' His left leg began to ache, asleep under his brother's weight, but he pointedly ignored it.

It took a moment, but following a shaky breath Ben whispered, 'Okay. Can you promise?'

Ben will not die.

"Yeah," Five pressed a feather-light touch to the brownish ribbons of dried blood on his brother's linen shirt, his eyes glazing over and sight disappearing into the fabric. 'I promise, Ben.'

---

Edit: fixed some tense mistakes and a couple spelling errors.

#tua #the umbrella academy #umbrella academy #ben hargreeves #five hargreeves #number five #number six #five #ficlets #mywriting #myficlets #myworks

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inevitably-johnlocked · 5 years ago

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any recs for old!Johnlock? (Preferably not retired) Thanks!

Hi Nonny!

Ohhh, hmm. You know, I have absolutely READ older-couple Johnlock fics, but the only ones I’m remembering are when they’re retired or “not together but have got together when they old and dying” LOL.

I did a list last year for Retirementlock fics, and I do have new stuff but not a lot, so is it okay if I do “Retirement and Older Johnlock” fics for you? I hope so!! I tag them retirement if it’s retirement, so you can skip those ones

Feel free, my friends, to add your own!!

RETIREMENT and OLDER JOHNLOCK (Jan 2020)

Our Bodies Bend Light by lovetincture (G, 1,211 w., 1 Ch. || Established Relationship, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Beekeeping, Retirement) – They got married. Of course they got married. Snapshots in a relationship. There’s a jar of bees in the bookstore and a cottage in Sussex. Sherlock’s not the marrying kind, and John’s tried this once before, but they’re Sherlock and John. Of course.

Fine Print by mistyzeo (E, 4,224 w., 1 Ch. || ACD Holmes || Est. Rel, Retirementlock, Glasses, Oral, Hand Jobs, Bees) – Holmes needs glasses, but he’s too much of a stubborn arse to go get his eyes checked. Watson is used to bullying him for his own good. The glasses have unexpected but not unwelcome consequences for everyone.

a very soft epilogue (my love) by darcylindbergh (E, 5,395 w., 3 Ch. || Retirement, Domestic Fluff, Dancing, Dogs, Grumpy Old Men) – Across the pillows, Sherlock shifts and hums, the creases of his face deepening and then smoothing before settling. John watches him wake up, his chest swelling with affection and fondness, and thinks he’ll never get tired of Sherlock in the mornings, sleepy and soft. It’s been some forty-odd years, and John hasn’t gotten tired of it yet. Part 5 of things fairy tales are made of

Second Waltz by Atiki (T, 6,685 w. 1 Ch. || Magical Realism, Missed Chances, Retirement, Sussex, Bees, MCD, Angst with Happy Ending, Fluff, Cancer) – “The night I died, you wished I could wait for you.”

Abatement by WhimsicalEthnographies (E, 6,816 w., 1 Ch. || Est. Rel., Retirementlock, Fluff, Sherlock’s Self Esteem, Grumpy Sherlock, Idiots in Love, PWP, Fluff and Smut, Bottomlock) – “What’s wrong with you? You love the cottage,” John glances over to the passenger seat, then quickly turns his eyes back to the road. Driving was still not his forte, but considering Sherlock still couldn’t properly bend and lift his new knee enough to press and release the clutch, he had to make do. Not that Sherlock hadn’t tried to argue his way into the driver’s seat. “I love the cottage for a week or two, John. Don’t be deliberately obstuse,” Sherlock grumbles, sinking further in his seat. Well, as best he can with a four-week-old knee replacement. “And that’s all we’re going for, love,” John says out loud. But what he’s thinking is, shit. He knows.

A Lifetime Together by LondonGypsy (M, 8,886 w., 1 Ch. || Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Falling in Love, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Pining Idiots, Alternating POVs, Domestics, Retirement) – John and Sherlock falling in love.

Five Times Sherlock Realized He Was Getting Older by Mildred Graves (T, 9,215 w., 6 Ch. || Five and Ones, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Getting Old) – … And one time it didn’t matter.

In The End by whitchry9 (K+, 9,677 w. || Memento Fusion || Amnesia, Growing Old, Hurt / Comfort, Friendship, Heavy Angst) – When a brain injury leaves Sherlock unable to make new memories, John wonders how Sherlock will cope, and what it will mean for The Work and their life. Because after all, how can you live if you can’t feel time passing?

Through the Clouds by Mazarin221b (E, 20,004 w., 6 Ch. || Retirement, Sussex, Bees, Home Improvement, First Time, Romance) – Sherlock takes a remarkably early retirement at 47, and convinces John that a change of pace would do them both good. They buy an old cottage on the South Downs, and exchange their nonstop life in Baker Street for quiet contemplation, bee studies, and book writing. They might go completely insane, but sometimes it takes stepping outside of the life you’re living to find the life you want. Part 1 of Through The Clouds

echoes through time by chellefic (E, 21,619 w. || First Time, Romance, ACD & BBC, Epistolary) – Mummy sends a trunk from the Holmes cottage in Sussex to 221B. Its contents alter the way John and Sherlock see themselves and one another.

A Shipless Ocean by myswordfishmind (M, 22,135 w., 4 Ch. || Post-TRF, John has a Kid, Angst, Reunion, Falling in Love, Open Ending) – Ten years after the fall Sherlock goes back to London to find that John no longer lives there. Instead, he resides in a seaside town, a widower, and the father of a seven year old son. Now, Sherlock must struggle with the fact that there may no longer be a place for him in this new world.

The Wisteria Tree by SilentAuror (E, 29,773 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S3, Emotional Love Making, Amnesia/Memory Loss, Sherlock Loves John So Much, Sherlock POV, Romance, Angst with Happy Ending, First Times, Hurt/Comfort, Est. Rel., Retirement) – Sherlock wakes up from a month-long coma only to discover that he has no memory of the previous six years to his own shock as well as John’s…

The Winter Garden by Callie4180 (T, 31,213 w., 13 Ch. || Post-S4, Retirement, Christmas, Slow Burn, Grown-Up Rosie, Parenthood, Rosie’s Cat, Angst with Happy Ending, Holidays, Beekeeping, Magical Realism, Sherlock POV, Sherlock’s Violin, Future Fic, Sussex, Honey, Magical Healing Honey, Love Confessions, Sherlock’s Scar, First Kiss, Touching, Mycroft is Dying) – As Sherlock nears the end of his career, he’s given the gift of a cottage in Sussex. The honey from the beehives out back is amazing. Almost…magical.

Chaperones by MissDavis (T, 34,114 w., 7 Ch. || 11 Years Post-S4, Fake Relationship, Parentlock, Disney World, Bed / Room Sharing, Friends to Lovers, Fluff, First Kiss, Obsessive Sherlock, Insecure John) – Right. Of course. Everyone assumed they were a couple and no one would question it. John put his elbows up on the table so he could rest his head in his hands. “You want to pretend to be a couple so we can chaperone a trip to Disney World with Rosie’s class and you won’t have to share a room with a stranger?” “Exactly.” Sherlock beamed at him. “Don’t worry about the cost. The Birmingham case last month paid more than enough to cover expenses for all three of us.”

Where Else Would I Be? by cwb (E, 34,910 w., 10 Ch. || Retirementlock, Domestic Fluff, Falling in Love, Parentlock, Fluff and Smut, Reminiscing) – John and Sherlock’s five-year-old granddaughter spends the weekend with them in Sussex. Sherlock happily indulges her whims, and John takes care of them while quietly revisiting the past thirty years of their lives together.

Only To Be With You by SinceWhenDoYouCallMe_John (M, 40,768 w., 4 Ch. || Black Mirror / Future AU || Character Death, Future Technology, Sickness/Cancer/Illness, Heavy Angst with Happy Ending, First Person POV John, Pining John, Heart-Wrenching Angst) – I tell myself that next time I’ll come near this same place again. Wait around for the mysterious stranger in his coat to dash past me, hot on the heels of a new criminal in black. I think this all the way back to my Exit, planning where I’ll wait and what I’ll say when I see him. Scheming on how to get his name. It’s only once I reach the Exit Point door that I realize two hours and forty-five minutes have passed, and I realize that this won’t be the last time I Visit. It won’t be the last time at all.

between each beat are words unsaid by darcylindbergh, hudders-and-hiddles (T, 107,998 w., 215 Ch. || Epistolary, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Angst, Happy Ending) – On their wedding night, John and Sherlock gift each other with the things they each said when the other could not hear, the things they each put down where the other could not see: a collection of writings that illustrate the way their love for one another has grown over the years. Part 1 of between each beat

Unkissed Series by 221b_hound (T to E, 184,100 w. across 45 works || Established Relationship, Ace Sherlock) – Sherlock returned from the dead a year ago. John returned to Baker Street six months ago. They’ve been in a couple since then. or at least, not NOT a couple. For two smart men, they sure can be dumb. Luckily, an art thief tries to drown Sherlock, Sherlock has a fever dream and things are about to change.

Sketchy by serpentynka (E, 184,053 w., 83 Ch. || Post-TRF, Post-Mary, John Whump, Slow Burn Love Story, Case Fic, Art, Porn With Feelings, Switchlock, Travelling, Career Change, Family Secrets, Illness / Health) – What (and who) will be left when nobody cares about your Work? A slow-burn fic with cases, places, mistaken identities, unfair choices, essential changes, violent feels, blatant lies, fearless portraiture, family secrets, high-risk bespoke gifts, durable friendships, bedtime stories, foreign travel and tongues, sickness (and health), and the significance of things which are slow to unfurl – but cannot be ignored. Oh, and…porn. Part 1: Sherlock takes on an obvious case (barely a 4) and meets someone who will force him to re-examine what it means to see. Part 1 of Sketchy

MARKED FOR LATER

The Last of the Honey Bees by what_alchemy (T, 2,000 w., 1 Ch. || Apocalypse, Retirement) – “When we’re all space dust… when all of this is gone? My molecules will find yours.”

A One-Track Life by JennLynn77 (E, 13,526 w., 7 Ch. || Post S4/TFP, Parentlock, Est. Rel., Medical Procedures, Anal, Cuddling/Snuggling, Bed Sharing, Surgery, Physical Therapy, Retirement, Sherlock Whump, Caring John, Bottomlock, Endearments, Drug Addiction, Triggers) – A medical situation threatens to derail the plans Sherlock had for his life with John and Rosie.

Deck the Halls by itsalwaysyou_jw (T, 31,018 w., 24 Ch. || Advent Fic / Multiple One-Shots, Assorted Tags) – One Johnlock ficlet for every day leading up to Christmas. Who is ready for pining, first kisses, established Johnlock, and everything in between? This collection of stand-alone ficlets will have it all. (Ch. 7 is the Retirement Fic)

FictoberLock 2018 by FinAmour & unicornpoe (M, 60,875 w., 31 Ch. || Halloween, Protective John, Smitten Sherlock, Fluff, First Kiss, Injured Sherlock, Various Prompts) – 31 different prompts, 31 Johnlock fics: one every day for the month of October! Each chapter is a stand-alone story. Some are written by unicornpoe, some by FinAmour, and some are written by us both! They range in length from ~500 words to ~3500 words, and there’s something in here for everyone. (Ch. 23 is the Retirement Chapter)

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #retirement #older johnlock #retirementlock #Anonymous #fic rec sunday #my fic recs

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nanasarea · 4 years ago

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Mermade VII

Prompt: When Renjun and his friends decide to go to Seirina Island, he accidentally meets you, a literal fish out of water

Genre: mostly fluff

Pairing: mermaid!reader x renjun

Word count: 1.2k

a/n:so um, this is basically a quick mermaid 101 w professor Y/N and eager-to-learn student Renjun haha also not proofread but we been knew

Tag list: @moloprint @emijjk @peachykrystal @multimulti-posts @jaeminsmainbitch @bumblebeenct

main m.list / series m.list / mermade m.list

i ii iii iv v vi vii viii ix x(finale)

The panic on both of your faces growing from “oh, shit, i forgot to lock the door” and “Oh shit, I forgot to knock” to “Oh my god, I’m seeing a mermaid” and “I’m so dead”.

“You are one!” Renjun yelled and that’s when you realized, not locking the door and singing out loud were mistakes number 4 and 5.

“Yes, I’m a mermaid but please don’t kill me!” You yelled, hiding behind your arms as if to shield yourself. “K-kill you? Why would you even think of that?” Renjun asked, nervously moving closer to you “M-my pod always told me that the second a human knows that you’re not human, they’ll kill you.” You answered, nervously lowering your arms “Your pod?” He asked.

“It’s like a family, your mermaid family but you’re not actually related to all of them.” You explained “It’s like, if you and the guys were merfolk, that would be your pod, in a way.” You added “Oh.” Renjun sighed, sitting down next to the bathtub. “Well, your pod was wrong. I would never hurt you, mermaid or human.” He reassured, smiling at you “Let alone kill you.” He added and you believed him.

“But I do have some questions, if you don’t mind?” He asked, hopefully “Oh, um could I dry off first?” You asked, nervously “Of course!” he answered. “Like alone?” You asked, to which he sighed in realization “Oh, right.” He said, excusing himself and waiting for you in your room.

“That was fast.” He commented as you entered the room “We can manipulate water, I just had to use my Hydro-Thermokinesis.” You answered, nervously “Your hydro-what now?” Renjun asked “Hydro-Thermokinesis. It’s the elemental power to heat and boil water and liquids in general.” You answered.

“How many powers do you have exactly?” Renjun asked “If you don’t mind me asking so many questions.” He added “Of course not. I trust you.” You smiled at him reassuringly “And I can’t really say I have a list. Sea born mermaids are born with most of these powers, whereas mermaids turned from the moon pool usually get split powers, like if two people go in, the powers will split between the two. Like one of them will be able to freeze water while the other can boil it.” You answered, feeling like a professor teaching a curious child.

“Hydrokinesis is the elemental ability to create, control, and manipulate liquid water at will. Hydrokinesis has been used to float water in the air or spray it in the form of a jet blast. One can also control water and mold it into any shape and for he or she desires. It's also used to mold water into a multitude of shapes, ranging from simple water balls to let’s say a miniature mermaid figurine and three-headed snakes. Hydrokinesis also allows the user to multiply the water molecules, making the shape of the water to grow more and expand in size, despite the small amount in a glass to begin with.When a merperson with this power is in the Moon Pool during a special planetary alignment, it is greatly strengthened to Aerokinesis, the power to control the air and wind.” You explained.

“Remind me to never get on your bad side.” Renjun joked “You could never.” You joked back, winking at the boy before growing embarrassed at your sudden confidence and continued as if it didn’t happen. “ Hydro-Cryokinesis is the elemental ability to freeze water. This power could apply with anything containing liquid, ranging from human body to even the water molecules in the air. If a merperson with this power is in the Moon Pool during the special planetary alignment, it is drastically enhanced to full-fledged Cryokinesis in which one can freely create and control solid ice, snow, frost, sleet, flurries, hail, and cold with much less water in the vicinity. One can also summon incredibly powerful snowstorms, avalanches, snowfall, or blizzards. “ You said.

“Hydro-Thermokinesis is the ability to heat and boil the water. It means that Thermokinesis is the most volatile and dangerous of all three original powers and it can easily get out of control. Thermokinesis is most useful when the merpeople need to dry off their tails faster.If a merperson with this ability is in the Moon Pool during the special planetary alignment, it is enhanced to Pyrokinesis and Electrokinesis: the power to create and control fire, flame and heat, as well as the ability to generate and control pure lightning and electricity.” and with that Renjun asked “Is that the one you used to dry yourself off?”, to which you nodded.

“Those are the main three manipulation powers. There’s also gelidkinesis is the power to turn water and all things that contain water into a jelly-like compound. A merperson using it also shows the ability to change its viscosity and there’s also Substanciakinesis is the ability to harden water into a substance similar to glass or crystal.” You said. “There’s a bunch of other’s like controlling weather, entering people’s dreams, telekinesis, vision sharing, siren singing, essence manipulation, volume reduction, zoolingualism, telepathy, to name a few.” You explained.

“We have slightly enhanced senses, for instance to sea born mermaids, land people smell horrible, even the average hygienic human emits this smell but only mermaids can detect it. However, we can get used to the smell, we also have the same range of hearing as dolphins. With this sound, we can hear things humans cannot. We also have enhanced breath, merpeople can hold their breath for over fifteen minutes with no difficulty or discomfort.” You continued.

“I can’t really think of anything else at the moment.” You added, nervously “There’s more?” He asked, overwhelmed at the amount of powers you listed, to which you nodded. “What about your ring? and locket?” He asked “The ring helps me control when I turn into a mermaid, if I don’t wear the ring, I would turn into one whenever you touched water. The locket opens to show a picture of me and the pod.” You answered, opening the locket and showing him the photo “I miss them.” You confessed “I’m sorry, you must feel so home sick.” He said “Yeah, they’re my home.” You agreed.

“Do you wanna go to bed now?” He asked “Don’t you have more questions?” You asked “I can ask tomorrow, you seem like you need your sleep more than I need my answers at the moment anyway.” He smiled at you, ruffling your hair before saying “Good night, my little Harley Finn”.

“Who?” You asked “Don’t worry about it, I’ll teach you tomorrow.” He laughed and got up, only for you to grab his hand and bring him back down onto the bed. “Stay, please. I miss my pod and I don’t wanna be alone tonight.” You said and at that moment, looking into your eyes, Renjun saw how homesick you really were and felt bad. He felt guilty, despite knowing you could return anytime you wanted.

“Just for tonight.” You plead “Of course.” He smiled and laid down. “Come on.” He said, to which you excitedly laid next to him and fell fast asleep. “Harley Finn who...” He scuffed “You really are a fish out of water.” He said to himself before falling asleep himself.

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huntsman-ash · 4 years ago

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RWBY V8E3 LiveThoughts

Its Saterday and that means its time for everyones favorite post spam; Orca-mun bullshits about RWBY! And here we go.

On a personal note I barely ate anything today so my brain is jittery. I ate something before this of course but one does not solve low-food jitters instantly. So we’ll see how this goes.

Also the more that I hear the opening for this season the more I hear things that I have had Ash say before. “The hope to change the world is just a childish dream”. It comes off in the song as kind of a poke at Ruby and her team, same way as how V3s opening was all about loosing and falling, but here I cant help but hear it in the voice of Ash, caustic and sarcastic, angry at the world for his own issues and putting it onto the “blind, naieve Huntress’s” Ironwood now has his team focused on.

Actually again, a lot of the song is talking about stuff that is probably coming up in the show. “The path we tried to avoid is already here”. “Path home is suddenly clear”. Basically hinting RWBYs going back to Vale at some point. But we knew that already.

And again, the part with time stopping while Cinder walks among the fighting reminds me of a shittier version of the I Know You trailer for Halo Wars 2.

And now the episode actually starts. Apperently, riding the pnumatic tubes does NOT instantly kill you. Im...half dissapointed. At the same time it makes sense, they seem to be fully sealed so.

Doesnt seem like its fun though thats for sure.

Dear Blake; please stop being adorable.

Oh, and we get to see how Penny see’s the world too. Interseting. Wireframe with data...and shes unintentionally doing the Konami Code if Im not mistaken.

Also cool to see that the active camo semblance works exactly like Halo’s active camo, ergo; its bending light, not true invisibility, since you can JUST BARELY see the shimmer where they are.

And this moment is a painting I like to call; Five Lesbians and a Robot in an Elevator. Legit shocked Atlas doesnt have elevator music...

And we finally, FINALLY get some reference on the storm. Shorter Atlas trooper sayd “they cant get too close to that storm without getting shot out of the air”. Okay...so Salem actually has defenses against airships? Couldnt they have SHOWN THAT?

Also, props to the female VA for sounding like AN ACTUAL FUCKING SOLDIER. “CO can get us some answers”...hell yeah. And then Nora’s randomly a dick for...no reason.

Penny’s finger has a scomplink just like in Star Wars.

And they didnt think to remove Peitro’s security clerance, alright then. Someones gonna know they were there though since she used his ID...but maybe thats part of the deal. They get in and get out fast.

Central Command is so dissapointingly small. I HATE IT. ITs two rows of consoles and like...8 dudes. No, wait...three rows? For a place this big it should be six times the size and look more like NASAs mission control.

Nice to have some data on how Ruby’s semblance works though. She apperently breaks herself down to her component molecules and negates her mass and HEY thats how I said Ash moved! DAMMIT RT

Also I guess Remnant follows SOME laws of physics.

NGL Blake is suddenly being a better character now that shes not held down by Yang. Might just be me though.

“Busy” says Ironwood. In my head, the five minutes before this shot; EXECUTIONS EXECUTIONS ALL THE EXECUTIONS. MUCH PURGING, VERY CLEAN NOW.

Oh I LIVE for the sudden look of shock on Watt’s face. Bro KNOWS what Ironwood can do. That said, obviously hes going to turn on him because...duh. Its Watts. But hey, least hes a little afraid. Unless its an act.

His acid snark against Penny is refreshing. “Magic science project” indeed.

Oh, thats why hes so worried. FOUR DUDES AIMING GUNS AT HIM. Nice.

CALLED IT

“Authorization granted to handle any threats with lethal force”. GOOD.

Oh no, Nora’s got an idea now. Im worried.

I get the feeling the random office geek guy that Nora trips is someone from RTs office, hence the “#1 Dad/Dud” mug. Dumb

Home made sign. Really. REALLY. UGH GOD DAMMIT RT.

Funny sign though. Also the scream from the tech is so fake its not even funny

Wow. For fuck sake. Thats how they get through. Seriously.

Seems I paused at the right moment. Blake is very confused about being inside Ruby.

Nice to see that Atlas follows OSHA regulations and has railings on its weird catwalks.

Hardlight forcefield door? Interesting. I guess May went off to steal an airship or something.

Also this is something I JUST remembered but I thought Johanna was the trans member. Actually thats May. So thats my bad.

HAHAHAHA HOLY SHIT MINDJACK!

Why’re there holes on the base of Penny’s gloves...

No logiccal sense to half of Atlas’s tech, glad to see that hasnt changed any.

Blake is me when my dads working at his office and taking way to long to do anything.

Blah blah okay talk less do more shit. Character stuff BORES ME

Hm. Nora speaks the truth.

ANNNNDDD its the Ace Ops. Now lead by Hare. ...no cuffs. No heavy equipment. No gas weaponry. Nothing. They know exactly how strong these people are and instead they show up with ALL OF THEIR OLD STUFF. Are you fucking serious.

STOP TALKING AND JUST KILL THEM ALREADY DAMMIT! Marrows comment is how I feel. But I think hes lying. As does he, I think.

I like how its Vine doing the talking, and that they start by trying to REASON with them. They’re scared. They know they might not win again. They’re taking the cowards root. To no ones fucking shock.

UHHHGGGG all of this fukcing mind shit with Penny is really pissing me off.

Good, now the fighting starts. Thattttss why they;re on the platform.

Hey, actual teamwork out of the Aces, kinda. I guess their boss being dead helped.

Okay seriously how the HELL is she not fighting this easier? Shes a robot, surely she has predictive combat algorithms...

Man Marrows getting SHIT ON this fight.

Mmm. Hare thighs. I like

Weiss says the truth for once

And all the fancy work and fighting is ended simply by a beefy woman grabbing Penny. I like that honestly. Simplicity, brutality.

Wait never mind.

HAHAHAHAH OFF THE Wall and now she flies. No shock.

HAHAHAHAH YES

Good shit. Good work Marrow.

Well that works. JESUS FUCK Nora.

Yow they’re not DEAD. Excuse me

Oh look Nora’s...wow. Cool, scars.

Still mad Pennys swords are on wires, but hell. Wire funnels are wire funnels. Or would those be incoms? I dont quite remember the distinction.

Marrows quiet look is kinda sad. Oh good nora’s not dead.

But they are down a person and...ah. They’re letting them go. Death Star tactic.

New ship design, havent seen this one before. The whole top part opens which is interesting to me. And then she just GONE.

Ah. So thats what they were doing. Cool.

Obviously gonna backfire, but hey, who knows. Maybe RT will surprise us.

Annnddd thats it for the show.

#rwby #rwby v8 #spoilers #rwby spoilers

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ohmightydevviepuu · 4 years ago

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our little life (rounded with a sleep) / chapter 9

our little life (rounded with a sleep) chapter nine [9/12] AO3

Once upon a time, there was a beautiful detective. She had blonde hair, green eyes, no family, and she was good at finding people; in fact, she proclaimed this on her office door. “Swan and Humbert,” it said. “Private investigations, missing persons, and bail bonds.”

Only lately, she's been thinking that maybe it should say "Emma Swan: Loner, Loser, Complicated wreck."

Her partner's been killed on a case after she made a deal with her landlord to find what had been taken from him. But when she tracks a possible perp to a bar on the outskirts of town, Emma will find out exactly how deep the rabbit hole goes.

as ever, none of this would exist without @thisonesatellite. pretty sure this kicks off another section that i made her read 3 times. after changing, like, five words. listen, i needed to know if it was better, ok?

to @profdanglaisstuff and @katie-dub, always.

to the @captainswanbigbang for a hell of an event. i owe you all so much.

chapter summary: Shit gets real. Very real. In her dreams--and in her life. Emma has to decide: is she ready to try something new?

Emma opened her eyes. She was once again on her back, on the least comfortable mattress she had ever had the misfortune to encounter--which was saying a lot, considering some of the places Emma had slept in her life. There was a single bare bulb illuminating the space and shadows cast along the wall by the bars of the cell door.

She was in one of David Nolan’s holding cells.

“What luck,” drawled a voice--a woman, haughty and self-assured and someone Emma had heard before. “The Savior.”

Emma did not sit up as she registered the words, or the obvious capital letters of the title; she merely waited, turning her head so that the speaker came into view. Her posture was impeccable, and though she did not appear especially tall she established a sense of presence. There was not a hair out of place on her head and her clothing was simple, but obviously expensive. It was easy to see where--who--Regina Mills had learned her habits from.

“Cora Mills,” Emma said, her attention going back to the ceiling and the bulb, making her affect as disinterested as possible. “You look pretty good for a dead woman.”

read the full chapter on AO3

chapter nine

Emma stood in the doorway, watching her son sleep for the first time in her--and his--life. His hair was just a bit too long, she realized suddenly, seeing the way his fringe fell into his eyes. Liam was on the floor, and his eyes opened when she took a step into the room. Emma shrugged--hoping he would understand what even she could not.

Because she needed to leave.

She needed to be somewhere else, out of all of this, out of this bullshit of magical nonsense and curses and--everything.

She was going to take her son and she was going to get the fuck out of Dodge, away from Evil Queens and Dark Ones and roommates that felt like family and a bartender that felt like he could help her be a part of something, if only he wasn’t so monumentally fucked up.

Liam just watched her, watched her as she shook Henry gently awake, and then he nodded. He looked sad, but resigned, and Emma had to wonder: how many friends did Liam Hook truly have? Maybe he was a little lost, too, just like his brother, just like she had been.

Like she still was.

“Come on, kid,” she said, hoping her voice cut through the sleepy haze in Henry’s expression. “We’re getting out of here.”

Ruby had caught her in the hallway as Emma left Hook’s office, and the grin on her face was devilish, her eyes glittering in delight. “Angsty midnights with the hot-slash-insane bartender?” she asked. “I love it.” But then she had sniffed, and though Emma knew it wasn’t possible, it was like she smelled the alcohol in the air around her, even though neither Hook nor Emma had had anything to drink.

“Angsty midnight drinking sesh with the hot-slash-insane bartender?” Ruby’s expression changed, and she pulled Emma toward her, both of her hands on Emma’s shoulders, her gaze boring into Emma’s skull. “Babe, listen. You know I love you. And I know we’re going through something terrible. But--”

“I know,” Emma said.

“This is insane, Em.”

“I know,” Emma said.

“There’s gotta be a better way for you to work through your shit,” Ruby said.

But that’s not what Emma did--was not how she operated.

She was going to do what she always did: run. It was all she knew how to do.

Emma tried hard to not imagine Jefferson watching them through his telescope as she guided Henry toward her car. Henry’s delight with the dilapidated little yellow Beetle was almost enough to banish the worry.

Almost.

Until she started driving toward the edge of the neighborhood and the questions started.

“Wait.” Henry was suddenly alert. “You want to go now? We’re leaving now?” He looked over his shoulder. “Where’s your stuff?”

“You’re all I need,” Emma said. “I’m getting you out of here. Away from all of this, away from her.”

“No.” There was steel in Henry’s voice. “No. Stop the car. You can’t leave--you have to stay, you have to break the curse.”

“I don’t,” Emma said. “I don’t have to do anything but help you.”

“Emma,” Henry said. He was pleading with her. “You’re a hero. You can’t run, not when you can help everybody.”

Emma bit her lip. “I know it’s hard for you to understand--”

“You’re scared,” Henry said. “That’s pretty easy for me to understand. I’m a kid, I’m not an idiot.” He crossed his arms.

“I’m doing what’s best for you,” Emma said, turning her blinker on as she came to the main street that would lead them back into the heart of the city. “That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? Isn’t that why you were looking for me?”

He shook his head. “I wanted you to break the curse. I wanted you to bring back the happy endings, and for us to be a family.” His voice broke. “Please, Emma, don’t make me go. We need you. Your family needs you.”

“Henry--”

He reached over and grabbed the steering wheel.

“Henry!” Emma swerved, yanking on the wheel to pull the car back onto the road and into the right lane. Her heart was racing as she turned to her son. “We need to--there’s a difference between fairy tales--fantasy--and reality.” “I’m not crazy,” Henry fumed. “Killian believes me!”

“Captain Hook’s opinion is not what I’m interested in right now, kid,” Emma snapped.

“You’re letting your feelings cloud your judgment. You’re scared, but you know I’m right. Running isn’t what’s best for me. Running is never what’s best. I thought--”

“What?” Emma said, her eyes flickering back to him.

“I thought you were different.” He slumped in his seat.

It was just a flash out of the corner of her eye--red eyes, four feet--and for a second, she would have sworn it was Graham.

The car went off the road.

Something was wrong with the apple tree.

It was black, the leaves curling in on themselves; the fruit wasn’t red, but shriveled and brown.

It was dying.

The man in the animal-skin coat with the glittery skin was visibly pleased, Emma could tell. His toothy grin was wide and his fingers positively writhed with glee.

“Excellent work, Savior,” he hissed. “The curse is weakening.”

“You want the curse broken,” she said. “Why?”

“I’m planning a little trip,” he said.

“You’re going to need travel insurance,” Regina said, and Emma whirled around. “Because I’ve found a solution to my Emma Swan problem.”

It wasn’t Regina Mills but the Evil Queen that stood before her, in a gown of jet black with divided skirts that trailed behind her. She held her hand, palm up, out in front of her, and there was a ball of fire in the air. “An old, reliable solution.”

“Ah, ah, ah,” Rumplestiltskin warned. “I’m sure I don’t have to remind you, Your Majesty, that all magic comes with a price.”

“Then you can pay it,” she seethed, and the ball of fire trembled.

An arrow shot through the air, causing the fire to extinguish itself, and Regina’s mouth dropped open. “You!” Her expression changed from shock to hurt to anger. “You could’ve hit me!”

“I never miss,” Graham said. His eyes flashed, one red and one black, and Emma saw the wolf.

They were back in the office.

Swan and Humbert.

“Emma,” he said. “I want to talk to you.”

“You--” Emma said. “You’re--”

“Please, Emma. I need you to understand.”

“Why?”

“So that I can understand,” he whispered, and kissed her, sending warmth from the tips of her fingers straight down to her toes. It wasn’t--it wasn’t a romantic feeling, it was comfort and affection and trust and connection.

It was being a part of something.

“Did you feel that?”

Emma nodded, speechless.

“That’s what you did for me,” Graham whispered. “I died a free man, Emma.”

She cupped his face in her hands, feeling the scratch of his stubble on her palms. He kissed her, again, on the crown of her head, and his fingers combed through her hair, stopping at the chain around her neck.

“Emma,” he said. “Your fate is in a precarious place. You must hurry.”

“Wait--” Emma said.

“The opportune moment will present itself,” Graham said. “The rest is up to you. Find your family, Emma. Free them from the curse.”

“You’re--can’t you come with me?”

“I cannot,” he said, but his voice held no regret. “I gave up my heart so that the queen would spare Snow White’s. Wait for the opportune moment. Don’t let my sacrifice be in vain.”

“Graham,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

She pulled him close, one more time, and kissed him softly on the mouth.

If the first time she kissed him had been a gentle brush against her soul--the warmth of a sunny day--this was an inferno, burning everything in its wake as the energy rushed through her. It was raw and unfettered as it pushed every molecule in her body, electrifying her senses until she couldn’t feel anything but him.

“It’s you,” Killian whispered. “Don’t you know, Emma? It’s all for you.”

She chased after him, searching for more, but he stopped her with a smile. “I know you feel like a pawn, love, but remember: you’re only a pawn if you don’t know you’re being played. There’s hope, Swan. All you have to do is believe.”

It was just a kiss, but it felt like--

“Just look at me,” he said, “and believe.”

It felt like magic.

She was in one of David Nolan’s holding cells.

“What luck,” drawled a voice--a woman, haughty and self-assured and someone Emma had heard before. “The Savior.”

“Cora Mills,” Emma said, her attention going back to the ceiling and the bulb, making her affect as disinterested as possible. “You look pretty good for a dead woman.”

“So do you, dear.”

Emma’s already-spinning head took a moment to process that, and a deep breath that she hoped was not noticeable--but she did not give Cora the satisfaction of a reaction.

There was a low, throaty chuckle. “I’m glad to see you’re not wasting your energy on pleasantries, Miss Swan.”

Damn.

A villain with a sense of humor, then. Not that Emma had the energy to spare for ‘pleasantries,’ not after the accident and the dreams and--

“Hook?” Cora said.

Emma once again did not allow herself to react, but she wanted to, as she heard the footsteps, low and languid, and the dry tone of his voice when he said, “Startling, aren’t I?”

It took no effort at all for Emma to imagine him making an ironic bow. “Some might even say striking,” he said.

Emma willed herself not to move, to maintain her calm demeanor. She didn’t even turn to look at him, not when she recognized the cadence of his words and the harshness of his consonants.

“I appreciate the warm welcome,” he said into the silence. He gave new meaning to the word deadpan. “And what have we here, Your Majesty?”

That got Emma’s attention--fucking hell, was everybody royalty in this magical, mystical Enchanted Forest? She turned to face him, finally, unsurprised to see the carefully blank expression on his face. He lifted an eyebrow at the movement. “Oh,” he said, licking his lips. “Don’t get up, princess. Not when I can think of so many pleasurable things to do with a woman on her back.”

In spite of his tone--and his leer and his stupid fucking eyebrow--a shiver went through her as Emma remembered all of the times in their crazy-short acquaintence when the space between them had seemed nonexistent, the pull between them too great, and she wondered. She thought of the way he had kissed her in her dream and the way it had made her feel, and she wondered.

Just how many things did he know how to do, with a woman on her back?

“‘Your Majesty’?” Emma repeated, trying to shake herself loose of his jibe, and his eyebrow, and that other title. Speaking of royalty.

“Do not misunderstand me, princess.”

“Cora is the Queen of Hearts,” Hook replied, and she did not have to imagine it this time, the ironic tilt of his head or the quirk of his mouth. “In Wonderland.”

“I hate Wonderland.” That’s what he’d said, and he’d meant it all the way down to his bones, but there was no emotion in his words as he turned back to Cora. As if he was done with her already.

“The time for that is done." "Just as I have done with you.”

It was his voice that was doing that to her, making her doubt, making her uncomfortable, and it didn’t help when he said, “Cora, darling--you seem to have a Savior in a cage. How does one come upon such treasure?”

“It’s you, Emma. It’s all for you.”

Emma closed her eyes.

“After everything we’ve been through, Hook, why do you still doubt me?”

It’s all for you.

“When I’m the one who brought you here, and preserved your memories--your purpose?”

“Your arrival reminded me of my purpose, but I cared not one whit whether this curse ever broke.”

“I may be a simple pirate,” he said, “but I know where my interests lie. How else do you think she wound up so easily in your grasp? It was all about waiting, my dear Cora, for the opportune moment.”

Emma covered her sharp inhalation with a cough.

“Wait for the opportune moment.”

That’s what Graham had said--that’s what the man in her dreams had said.

“You might have imparted that advice to Jefferson,” Hook said darkly. “You realize he almost cost you everything?”

Killian. Killian had said that. Not Captain Hook.

This was it, Emma knew.

The opportune moment.

“Satisfied?” Hook asked Cora.

Emma was in a cell with a woman capable of murder and worse on the other side of the bars, and all Emma had was her wits and--if she could let herself believe it--Hook. She ignored his words, his tone, his eyebrow, all of it, and listened to what lay beneath: the flash of desperation she was sure she wasn’t imagining, and that phrase. Hook didn’t know--couldn’t know--that she had dreamt of him saying that. He didn’t know that she had overhead his rift with Cora.

“You chose her. Now you have to live with the consequences of that decision.”

He was trusting her. Trusting her to trust him.

Try something new, darling.

“You,” Emma spat.

It’s you, Emma. It’s all for you.

She stood up quickly and walked the three steps to the bars. “That’s why--that’s why you gave me my necklace back. It was all about making me believe I could trust you.” Emma put the extra emphasis on ‘my’ and waited, watching him as he took two steps forward and leaned his head so that he was almost directly against the cell door--so that their eyes met, and Emma knew she wasn’t imagining what she saw there.

Hope.

Just a flash, and so quickly she almost missed it--so quickly that she would have missed it, except that she was looking for it for the first time in her life.

“I should have known,” Emma said, putting bitterness into her words. “You’re not exactly the sentimental type, are you?”

It was funny, or it should have been, to accuse the man who claimed to have carried a grudge for three centuries of not being emotional.

“I’m not,” he agreed, biting off the word. “You should have thanked me, Swan. That’s what’s customary when one receives a gift.” His body blocked Emma’s view of Cora as his fingers brushed against hers, and Emma couldn’t suppress the shiver as she felt him. The same warmth and tingle she had felt in the office--“Perhaps it shall serve as a reminder to both of us”--he’d said, and she felt it again, the anticipation.

“Right,” Emma said sarcastically. “Because you’re a goddamn gentleman.” She stepped back, as much for herself as for the pretense, and she clamped her fingers around the small metal pin he had slipped her.

Maybe they really were a team.

“Because I believe in good form,” he said. It was his turn to step away and return his attention to Cora. “And speaking of intentions, love, what are yours toward our captive friend? Mercy seems a bit out of character.”

“Oh, not mercy, Hook,” Cora said. Her eyes were sharp and narrow and focused entirely on Emma. “She’s going to help me, whether she wants it or not. I intend to get what I need.”

Emma straightened her spine and looked Cora dead in the eye.

“It doesn’t matter,” Emma said. “You’re still going to lose.”

Cora laughed. “Such bravery.”

Emma could do this. Emma did do this, day in and day out--got her skips and perps and clients to talk to her, to stall, to tell her what she needed to know. She could do this. She could get out of this cell and out of this fuckery and take her son--

Her son, who had been in the car with her when she’d gone off the road--oh, shit, this was why she could never be a mother; where was her son, was he ok, who had him, all of the questions she should have had on repeat from the instant she’d regained consciousness were on a loop in her head as she tried to maintain her composure in front of Cora. The fucking Queen of Hearts.

Emma didn’t even know how long she’d been in this cell.

“You get off on this,” Emma said. “This is the part that you like, the control and the power trip--”

But Cora knew. The bitch could tell, could see it in her eyes or some shit, because she laughed.

Again.

“The Savior,” Cora said, drawing out the word in what was unmistakably a gloat. “But all you are, child, is a name on a piece of paper, did you know that? Did you know that Rumplestiltskin mapped out your life before you were even born?”

Emma wanted to laugh at that--to laugh, or to cry, because there was absolutely no one in this world who could have predicted the path that her life had taken to lead her to this moment. She had made her own choices, and had to live with her own mistakes, but no one was going to tell her who she was.

Only--

Henry would tell her to be a hero.

“You’re not powerful,” Cora said. “You’re a pawn, which is exactly why you are here. You’re the Savior because it was all part of the plan.”

“You’re only a pawn if you don’t know you’re being played.”

“This is the part where you tell me what you need, right?” Emma said.

“I need to be close to my daughter again,” Cora said simply. “You and this curse are currently the only things in the way of that.”

Emma barely flickered her eyes toward Hook before she punched back, a sudden flash of insight becoming clear to her. “What about the dagger, then?”

“The what?” Cora asked. She hadn’t even batted an eye, but Cora wasn’t the only one who could read people. Emma had gotten to her. Behind Cora, Hook shifted his weight, holding Emma’s gaze for just a split second with a barely-perceptible nod of his head.

Try something new, darling.

“Rumplestiltskin’s dagger,” Emma said, quietly enough that Cora needed to step closer. “That’s what you really want, isn’t it? The power? I wonder, Cora dear, what your grudge against the Dark One might be?”

That had to be it, Emma knew, otherwise Cora would be holed up with Gold, plotting to do whatever the fuck it was that people who wanted to break goddamn curses did. Bad blood there for sure, Emma decided, and knew she’d hit her mark because Cora’s expression changed. She was a handsome woman, but the glare she leveled at Emma could probably turn things into stone.

If Emma believed in magic. Or daggers, or Rumplestiltskin, or one-handed pirates with sinful eyelashes who couldn’t keep their own personal space; who read her like a goddamn book, who told her secrets in the dark that made her feel seen and understood and made her wonder, in all of those times they’d been inches apart, what it would feel like if there was no space between them at all.

But she didn’t. She didn’t believe in any of it.

Liar.

“Listen,” Emma said, leaning forward. “You should know that I don’t have any fucks to give about this fight. I don’t give a shit about plans or saviors or curses. I’m just trying to get justice for my partner, and to move the fuck on with my life.”

Emma did not look at Killian as she spoke. She meant it--she meant all of it.

Liar.

Cora’s eyebrows narrowed; she was clearly unimpressed. Definitely another expression Regina had learned from her mother.

Which was fine--Emma almost had the lock open, anyway.

“I’m not like him,” Emma said, gesturing with her chin at Hook. “I don’t have any grand delusions about my life or its purpose. You let me out, let me go on my way, and I will tell you where your precious fucking dagger is. Or I will see you behind these bars, Your Majesty.”

Emma pushed the door open and stepped out.

Cora laughed for the third time. It was refined, and practiced, and unpleasant, and all of the hairs on the back of Emma’s neck were standing on edge.

“You’re going to tell me,” Cora said, “or he is. I’ve been waiting twenty-eight years for this.”

Hook interjected then. “I’ve been waiting a hell of a lot longer than that, Your Majesty.”

“So pretty,” Cora sighed, “and yet so useless. You can hardly blame me, Hook, for your failure to seize the--how did you put it? The opportune moment. I told you, Hook--”

Cora moved, and Emma attempted to dodge.

She was unsuccessful.

“You chose her. Now, there will be consequences.”

And then all there was--was pain. Her body, about to split open--her lungs feeling like there could not possibly be enough air in the universe. The feeling of something closing in around her heart.

Crushing it--

--or trying to.

Emma could feel it, Cora’s hand actually inside of her body, and the violation of it all--the physical intimacy, for Cora to be that close and to have her fucking hand inside of Emma’s body--was almost as bad as the literal physical pain. Which was overwhelming.

Until it wasn’t.

Killian had Cora in a headlock, his hook against her neck. “Let. Her. Go.” Each word was its own sentence, snarled directly into Cora’s ear, and Emma could feel him pulling Cora away from her in the way that Cora did not let go of her heart.

Her fucking heart.

“Don’t you know, Hook?” Cora gasped. “Love is weakness.” Her grip tightened, and she pulled.

Like she was trying to pull Emma’s heart straight out of her body, and this was it, this was what had happened to Graham, this was how he had felt in the moments before he had died, like his body was exploding and collapsing in on itself all at the same time, in horrifying, indescribable agony--

“I died a free man, Emma.”

Only--

There was a burst of white light, and Cora hissed in pain. Her arm, her hand, stopped moving, and Emma could take a breath again as Cora sagged against Hook, who had not released her from his grip. His face was devoid of any emotion but his eyes were icy chips of pure rage as he pulled her bodily away from Emma, who doubled over the moment Cora’s hand left her chest, heaving breaths and swallowing the bile that bubbled up in her throat.

“What was that?” Emma said. Her words came in raspy syllables.

“That,” Hook said, and his voice made his face seem expressive, “was Cora’s final mistake.”

And it really wasn’t fair, Emma thought--later, much later--that for all of her wishing to know what was happening, what the actual fuck was happening, and where was her son--Henry burst through the door, tailed immediately by Regina as she harangued David, who was pulling a bewildered Mary Margaret along with him--as Killian dug the tip of his namesake gently into the delicate skin along Cora’s neck, and she gave a horrifying shudder.

So much for not believing in magic.

“Mother?” Regina said, rushing up behind Cora and catching her as Killian let her fall. “Mother? What’s wrong?”

@kmomof4 @shireness-says @optomisticgirl @scientificapricot @captainsjedi @carpedzem @mariakov81 @stahlop @eirabach @snowbellewells @searchingwardrobes @spartanguard

#cs fic #csrt #captain swan rewrite a thon #our little life (rounded with a sleep)#canon divergence #S1 divergence #cursed!killian #an alternate theory of the curse

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dammitadolfnomorecake · 4 years ago

Text

Once Bitten. Twice Stupid prt.7

“Lance? It’s Shiro, can I come in?”

Lance felt as if he was dying. Unable to remember how he got back to his room, he’d gotten the shock of his life, sure he’d looked like a bat when his eyes had flicked over his reflection in the window. He couldn’t turn this into a goddamn bat, he wasn’t that powerful. He was losing his shit because he’d gone and poisoned himself. Running a fever, his body felt uncomfortably warm for a change, sheets all gross and sweaty as his body burnt through the mercury and silver.

Curled up in the foetal position, Shiro was the last person Lance wanted to see... after Keith. Keith could kindly go fuck himself sideways before exiting his home and never returning. Maybe in feigned sleeping, Shiro would take the hint, take his brother, then get the hell off his property. Only... Shiro didn’t. Lance cringing at the sound of Shiro’s footsteps across his floor, his senses hyper stimulated from the fresh blood

“Lance?”

Apparently he had to make some motions of still being in the land of living...

“Ugh...”

The word summed up every molecule that comprised him

“Lance, it’s Shiro...”

Someone give the man a damn prize for knowing his own name

“What is it?”

Lance’s bed dipped, Shiro violating the sanctity of his bed. A cool hand went to his forehead

“Shit, you’re burning up”

No shit. He’d poisoned himself

“I know”

“Can I get you anything?”

Lance couldn’t help but let out a rough bark of laughter. What was this? “Saint Shiro” to the rescue?

“No”

“Oh... Um... Keith’s awake. I didn’t tell him...”

“Take him and leave”

“Lance...”

“Take him and get out of here”

“I... Lance, I need to know, did Keith turn. He says he feels different”

Because Keith embodied stupidity. He wasn’t a damn vampire, Lance hadn’t given him any of his blood

“He’s fine”

“Lance, please. He’s my brother. Look, I brought you up a blood pack. Please drink it. We need to talk”

“Nothing to talk about unless it’s to say goodbye”

“I’m trying to meet you half way”

“Meet me half way?! I had to suck your brother’s blood like the nasty blood sucker I am. Human’s and vampires are two totally separate creatures. Just leave me alone”

Shiro sighed at him

“Please drink the blood. I promise I haven’t done anything to it. You’re the only one who knows what Keith is going through right now. I don’t know if I should say this, but Hunk messaged your to confirm tonight...”

Tonight... that was supposed to be... ugh, he’d lost a damn day thanks to Keith. Shit, he wanted to die. His teeth hurt so much he wanted to cry. When he’d turned all his teeth had fallen out, feeling like shards of glass pushing through his raw and bleeding as they’d regrown. That hadn’t been fun at all. Worst was when his Mami couldn’t touch the blood, or help him with his teeth problems thanks to painkillers doing jack shit. Fuck. Now he needed to drink the blood, or Hunk would worry himself sick over Lance’s health. He could always say he caught a cold, but tonight Hunk and Shay would be hanging out somewhere outside the roadhouse, and that came far, far, far, in front of Keith’s temper tantrum over a bite, that wasn’t even a damn bite. He’d wracked his brain to the point he swore it hurt to think. Keith had broken his teeth, but his lips seemed fine.

“I’ll, let you be, but please. I know my brother isn’t the nicest of people on the outside, but don’t hate him for doing his job”

Seeing his job was to kill Lance, surely a little bit of hatred was acceptable. His very being had been stomped on by Keith’s nasty arse blood.

When Shiro left, Lance slowly sipped at the blood pack. Shiro was just a man looking out for his little brother. He should have educated Keith better, heck, these “Blades of Marmora” should have educated Keith better. Keith would know if he was turning, the fever alone would have been a dead give away. The fever, the pain, the agony... All memories he didn’t want to relive. Stupid Keith and his stupid mullet were forcing back the things best left in the past, and the damn wanker had no idea as he over exaggerated his dramatic lying arse off. God knew he didn’t want to get out of bed, but Hunk was coming... and Shiro... he had to talk to Shiro about getting Keith out his house. Fuck being an adult.

Going through the motions, Lance forced himself into the shower where the water stung at his skin. He brushed his teeth, noticing the chipped tooth had fallen out with its replacement already starting to grow in. Then he bundled himself up into as many layers as he damn well could, including hit gloves and beanie, because his damn body was still sick as a dog. Trudging down the stairs, each step fell heavy, hopefully annoying Keith, but mostly because his body felt like lead.

Walking was reduced to a shuffle, Lance shuffling into his kitchen to find Shiro looking lost. Greeeeeat. He couldn’t even pretend to human in peace

“What are you doing?”

Shiro jumped, his hand going up to the back of his head to scratch nervously

“I... thought I’d cook something for Keith, but I don’t know where anything is”

Lord save him. Both of them were idiots

“There’s soup in the freezer, but wait, I’m a blood sucker, it’s probably fucking tainted”

Shiro’s chest fell, kind of like when your winded and that tightness settles there

“Lance...”

“Don’t pretend, it only makes it worse. I can tell you’re disgusted by my existence as it is”

Shiro sighed

“Lance, can we shelved the hostility for now. My brother is sick, and I don’t know what do. I’m not going to try make an excuse, I can’t promise that Keith won’t try to kill you again, but I have the feeling that maybe you’re closer to human than some other vampires. You said you’d never drunk human blood before, but we found bags...”

Now he was being miss quoted. Shiro probably thought he knew better because he looked older, fucking wanker got to grow old and grow up

“Because I get them from the resource centre. What I said was I’ve never fed on a human. An actual, real life, warm blood bag under my teeth. I was fine before you two turned up and now my whole life has gone to shit. Your brother is a fucking idiot. Charging in like that was reckless. If it wasn’t me he was attacking, a vampire would have snapped his neck in an instant. And his blood, I’m going to be sick just thinking about it. Don’t let him do it again”

Overcome with a wave dizziness, Lance stumbled to the closest kitchen chair, gripping the top a tad too hard as the wood began to buckle under his fingers

“Do you need help?”

“What the fuck do you think? I’ve got a dinner party tonight I haven’t even started cooking for, let alone shopped for. I’ve got two goddamn hunters in my house, one of which is the biggest idiot alive. I’ve missed out on two days work, and I feel totally and utterly dead”

Lance wasn’t pleased when Shiro started laughing, his glare ice cold as he looked up towards the man

“You feel “utterly dead”... that’s a good one”

“If you’re going to make jokes, you can get the fuck out of my house”

Shiro sobered his laughter, his face softening

“Look. Keith’s new to all of this. He’s been with the Blades a little while now, but this was his first solo mission. I was supposed to remain in a purely supervisory role. He’s hot headed and he thinks he’s got something to prove. Yes, we set you up. We followed you back here with the intention of killing you that night, but the chance slipped away with Hunk and Pidge here. No. He doesn’t trust vampires, but he does have his reasons. You’re not like any of the previous vampires we’ve met...”

“You mean to say you don’t think I’m “Bloodsucking vermon”? Geez, if only someone had tried to tell you that much, or you know, shown you hospitality when he stupidly believed you had no place to go. Keith won’t want anything touched by a vampire, so get your shit together, we’ll need to go shopping”

“Are you sure...”

Shiro trailed off, Lance not in the mood for bullshit

“Am I sure, what?”

“That you should be going out in your current condition”

“If you think I’m going to rip the throats out of every human I pass by, I swear to god I’ll stab you with your stupid human blades. Honestly, the worst that does is a mild allergic reaction”

Shiro raised an eyebrow

“Now, what?”

“Normally vampires react much differently to silver”

“Normally vampires aren’t fucking turned against their goddamn will”

This snarked reply shut Shiro right up. Guilt clouded his handsome face. Yeah. That was right. He wasn’t fucking born like this. And if he could go back in time he’d rather be “unborn” all together

“I... didn’t know...”

“Then maybe next time research your goddamn targets. Your brother is the first only damn time I’ve fed on a human in my life. And now he’s gone and fucking ruined that. 36 fucking years for nothing”

Shiro opened his mouth, Lance glaring at him again

“What?”

“I was going to ask how old are you?”

“44. I’m 44. Sorry, not an old vampire, just a tired a one. Get my damn keys, there’s no way I’m letting you drive”

Lance’s driving left much to be desired, Shiro gripping the “Oh, Jesus” bar above the whole trip. So the man could handle hunting down vampires and other supernatural beasts, but couldn’t handle a little aggressive driving? God. Give him a break. Parking his bronco with more of a stall than a park, Lance took personal offence to Shiro’s deep sign of relief. They wouldn’t need to go out if he and Keith hadn’t crashed his damn life

“Lance?”

Yeah, he was slightly over the lines, but that could be explained away to anyone asking by the fact he wasn’t wearing his glasses

“Close enough is good enough. Look, I’m going to say this now, but I’m sorry I’m being such a shitty person. I’m lashing out and that’s not okay, because I’m freaking the fuck out, and I’m sick. I can’t cancel dinner because tonight is finally the night Hunk’s gonna ask Shay out, so everything has to be perfect. They’ve been doing this awkward dance for something like a year now. Hunk’s the sunshine of my life, but the man is as clueless as a potato. Him and Shay are pining for each other so damn hard that if you ruin this for them, I will castrate you. You and Keith popped in to thank me for the help and collect the camera Keith forgot, despite the fact you really didn’t have to come by as I would have driven it up to you. I invited you to stay for dinner because I’m not an arsehole. If Pidge asks, I had no power because one of the repair guys knocked a wire loose, keep it vague. They have absolutely no idea what I am, and I don’t want either of them hurt. I would rather you just murder me on the spot than have those two hurt. They know nothing about that world, other than the rumours. So you and Keith need to keep your shit together tonight and go back to hating me tomorrow. And fuck... you ruined my fucking living room...”

“I’m sorry about that”

“You’re not really, so don’t make like you are. Let’s get this done, I need to hide the evidence before it makes my friends worry”

Shiro kept his mouth shut as they entered the local supermarket. Lance wincing at the light, before something dark slid over his head. Blinking, he realised he now had sunglasses on, and rounded Shiro, to once again have a go at the man

“Sorry, I noticed your sensitivity... I didn’t mean... shit... we really got off on the wrong foot”

Fucking Shiro... he felt enough of a dick as it was. Taking a deep breath, he slowly released it. Why did Shiro have to be nice? He was already good looking, couldn’t he share the talents out?

“Sorry. Okay. I know. I’m being a dick. I don’t mean to keep... god... English is so damn hard. Once the blood’s had time to do its thing, my mood swings should be better. I like you better than your brother, but forgive me if I’m not immediately jumping into yours and claiming friendship. I’m not used to anyone knowing what I am, nor am I used to being cared for. Thank you, for the glasses. It helps”

“No. That you’d help us, even after turning Keith... it’s incredible”

“Keith isn’t a vampire”

“You bit him...”

“He punched me in the mouth then threw a tantrum”

“Are you sure?”

“That he punched me in the mouth? My damn tooth is regrowing as we speak”

“But...”

“Whatever's going on with Keith, it’s psychological”

“Would you know, if you did...?”

“We’d all know. Now, grab a trolley. You’re in charge of feeding Keith. I don’t know what you both like and don’t like. Hunk will come over early to help, he always does”

Shiro chuckled, patting Lance on the shoulder

“You’re getting cranky again. It’s alright, Lance. We’ll get things ready in time”

“Easy for you to say. Oh, man... Do you even know how to cook?”

Shiro shrugged

“I haven’t burned a house down... yet. How hard can it be?”

Lance deflated like a popped ballon, his hand coming to rub at his forehead in attempt to rub out the headache lingering there. Thank god Hunk was coming to the house early. Shiro and Keith were both going to pull their own weight if they expected him to help, starting with Hunk giving Shiro a crash course in how not to burn a house down using a gas stove.

#once bitten twice stupid #klance #laith #mpreg mentioned in the future #vampire Lance #idiot keith #vld #vld au #ashratherose #on ao3

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