#i should've never opened that can of worms

[novaursa]

🤣🤣🤣🤣

This gold. I've almost peed myself.

I love you. ❤️

[warblogs17282]

Satan, the courts and classism against imps.

My mind is going through 50 different thoughts right now, so I thought I'd make a post on the classism seen within the courts.

Short answer: Satan and the people within the courts are quite classist, with there only being a few examples of people not being classist within the court sequences.

Long Answer:

Let's start with the first instance of classism we see within the courts, Loona gets treated differently because she's a hellhound. Sure while they share a few rough similarities with dogs, and people do put muzzles over dogs to prevent them from biting, that really isn't needed here in the slightest, it just really feels like Loona is getting degraded here, being treated worse than the imps, with Loona having more restraints than the imps purely because she's a hellhound and nothing else.

Blitz objects to what Andrealphus is saying, and he's almost instantly told to shut up, having a magical gag or whatever that this placed over his mouth, not letting Blitz make his own arguments, with the courts instead letting the higher-up Goetia speak his mind without allowing Blitz to object to any of it.

Same thing happens again with Moxxie, Moxxie objects to what Andrealphus has to say, and he also pretty much instantly gets told to shut up as well, by Satan himself.

Even further unnecessary restraints on Blitz, because he's naturally objecting to what Andrealphus is saying, further showing that he doesn't really get a voice in the trial, not being allowed to speak his mind and object to what Andrealphus is saying.

A bit of corruption as well, what this shows is that deals like this can be made with witnesses to give testimony, which just opens up a whole can of worms of corruption, considering Andrealphus knows that the witness is lying here, he's basically told Striker to go against Blitz in exchange for immunity, when they both know Stella hired him.

So, while I do admit only Striker and Andrealphus were the ones that knew Striker was told to commit perjury, it still proves the system is inherently exploitable for the people of higher-class, screwing over the people at the bottom in most cases. The court system is rigged for the upper-class. Hell, everything I've mentioned so far shows that the system is rigged against the lower-class, and I'm getting back to this point later in the post.

This scene is the only example of anyone who actually speaks up in favor of Blitz, the only one, and it's incredibly short-lived as Mammon very quickly interrupts the two to make a classist statement.

Mammon instantly proceeds to interrupt them by saying they 'enjoy slumming it with the lower class plebs.', and calls Vortex a 'mutt', purely because he's a hellhound, more casual classism in the court, although they both do fire back at Mammon because well, Mammon is being a cunt here.

Satan calls Blitz an 'Imp bastard' and instantly proceeds to ignore any possible due course that should come with court proceedings, aka, the 'hours of testimony' purely because he's hungry and wants to eat lunch. Instead being completely willing to execute an 'imp bastard' with zero due course because again, he's hungry and wants to eat his lunch. Only Bee, Asmodeus, Moxxie, Millie, Loona and I presume Vassago as well actually want the due course to happen, with literally every other demon in the room (with most of them being Goetia members) voting to prematurely execute Blitz, an 'imp bastard' as Satan puts it. (Yet another example of how the court system is rigged against imps and the lower-class)

'You should've remained in the place that is expected of a low-class imp.' is basically what this scene amounts to. 'When lesser demons try to step out of line.'

And we having people literally celebrating the execution of a few imps and a hellhound, which really gives me the vibes that they're being incredibly classist here as well.

'To remind all imp-kind why you should never challenge the people above you in the hierarchy, why you should never challenge the more powerful people to you, why you should never challenge our authority.'

This screams of authoritarian behavior (is that the right word in this context?), to attempt to scare the imp-kind into being little obedient creatures to them, to scare the imp-kind into staying in their expected place in hell's society, which is obviously very much classist.

Even if Satan is completely lying about this claim, it is still incredibly fucked up and classist that he says he created them to be obedient, just straight up admitting that he expects and demands obedience from imps, not being afraid of using his powers to do so as well.

Outside of Satan just straight up saying he doesn't give a shit about Blitz's final words, Blitz drops a mention of the hierarchy, the hierarchy enforced by the Goetia and above, the hierarchy that forces imps and such into the place that the Goetia and above want them to be in, and that Blitz was trying to rise above that place that them all forced him into.

This alongside Satan admitting that he doesn't care about Blitz's final words, just further shows us how little Satan, and by extension, how little the court system cares about what the lower-class have to say, with that being something I've shown multiple times throughout the post already.

Stolas does lean into the inherent classism the Goetia has during the song, although he's not being classist here to be a dick, it's all an act to save Blitz from execution, but it does to add the general classist vibes of the court, and you clearly see Blitz getting quite pissed off during this part of the act as well.

And Satan quite literally just says that he's the judge, jury and executioner in the courts, leaning further into the authoritarian behavior that I mentioned earlier, because he literally says that Satan himself is the law, which is obviously quite authoritarian.

'You are demon royalty, sooooooooooo... your life has actual worth.', which quite heavily implies that Stolas' life only has actual worth because of the fact he's royalty, a prince. Which also implies that anyone below demon royalty, such as imps and hellhounds for example, their lives don't have any actual worth as Satan calls it. Plus, Blitz gets executed for the same crime Stolas took the blame for, and Stolas' punishment is lesser, only losing his powers, title and such for 100 years instead, and while you can't apply Stolas' punishment to Blitz, the fact the punishment is different for the two of them shows a clear double standard, all because Stolas' life has actual worth, while Blitz's does not to Satan.

Finally, we have the news article Blitz pulls up on his phone, "making them the first hellborn to ever survive after being sentenced to death by a deadly sin.", Blitz is a historical exception, a true one-of-a-kind here, but the fact Blitz is the first, purely because Stolas took responsibly for it still speaks volumes to the lack of care and lack of due process within the courts, and further speaks to Satan's ruthlessness and classism as well. With this further backing up my point that the system is generally rigged against lower-class demons, like imps.

In conclusion: I have shown in multiple ways how Satan, and most of the people within the courtroom contain very classist views, making the court system extremely classist as a result, and I also believe I've shown pretty well that the court system is generally rigged against against lower-class demons, and generally rigged in favor of higher-class demons, like demon royalty for example, with me showing exactly how Andrealphus' and Striker's deal inherently makes the court systems exploitable and corrupt, again, generally in favor of the higher-class demons.

Yikes, even Phoenix Wright couldn't save this kangaroo court, and that's saying something if you've fully played through Spirit of Justice.

[3amfanfiction]

Johnny's Halloween Costume

Johnny is proud of his Halloween costume. It seems like Ghost likes it too. cw: none. 2.2k, Ghoap smut

Credit for this story is owed to @pricegouge for fostering his ask with me. Now it’s time to give it back. Thanks for always being willing to help my brain worms wiggle! <33

"I want to be slutty for Halloween but nothing sounds good," Johnny huffs as he slams back onto Kyle's bed, ignoring the hey! as he disrupts a clean pile of clothes.

Kyle pulls the clothes out from under him to re-stack while grumbling, "Just be yourself, how much sluttier can you get?"

Freeing the last of the items he turns to sit at the desk, looking at Johnny in exasperation as he recounts all of the options he's thought about and discarded.

"—bunny but everyone has done that. Same with a gladiator," he whines while staring at the ceiling, pouting. "It needs to be something good, something that will drop jaws."

Kyle rolls his eyes at Johnny's dramatics, "Be a hoochie daddy or something, I don't know. Just do it in your own room!" He blinks in surprise when Johnny shoots up to face him, a manic grin across his face. Nothing good ever came from this smile. it's Johnny's 'This is going to go badly but it'll be so much fun in the process' smile.

Kyle thought up the name himself.

"You're a genius, Gaz! I knew I came to the right person," Johnny beams at him, a toothy grin showing all the way to the molars. He bounces up, ignoring the deep sigh as he knocks the clothes over again and strides for the door, eager to get started now that he had a plan.

\\\

The spoon clinks against ceramic as Ghost stirs his tea in the small rec room, having fled from the festivities in the bigger hall after doing his mandatory 5 minute drop in.

He wouldn't have even done that much if the order didn't come straight from Price, I don't care if they're a bunch of numpties. Show up, foster camaraderie for a handful of minutes then you're free.

A handful of minutes. As far as Ghost is concerned that meant five. Three hundred seconds of torture before he was allowed to leave. He would do it but it certainly didn't mean he would like it.

He had escaped the second the hand ticked over and he had no intention of going back. He is going to drink his tea and then go to bed—leave all the idiots to get into trouble by themselves.

The door to the rec room burst open and Ghost is greeted with his own personal headache.

"LT! What are ye doin' hidin' away in here?"

"What are you wearing?" Simon ignores his question, dumbfounded at what he is seeing. Johnny prances into the room in an outfit which showed more skin than it covered.

His orange shorts rest high on his hips, the crotch obscenely tight causing his bulge to be highlighted by the taut fabric. The shorts end after a few brief inches showing miles of thickly muscled thighs covered in dark hair which end in combat boots. On his upper half he is wearing half a shirt, the fabric stopping right below his chest, showcasing his thickly muscled torso covered in a healthy layer of fat and coarse hair. Johnny beams as he looks at Ghost with a lightly stubbled face, his mohawk looking freshly trimmed.

"I've been lookin' everywhere for ye," he exclaims excitedly, hurrying over to crowd Ghost's space. "Well?" He spreads his arms, causing the shirt to strain against his biceps and wide shoulders. Ghost is pretty sure he hears a stitch pop, "What do ye think? I'm a Hooters boy!"

Ghost doesn't say anything, he can't say anything with his tongue feeling like it's two sizes too big in his mouth. If he were any less disciplined he would be swallowing in need right now. Thankfully, Johnny has no issue carrying the conversation.

"Ye should've seen the look on everyone's faces when I walked in. Looked like big mouthed bobble heads, the lot of them. It's like they'd never seen a man as beautiful as me before," he preens, striking a pose for the full affect of the outfit.

Ghost finds his breath shuddering on the exhale.

"You look like a whore, that's why they were staring at you," he finally managers with a deep rumble, staring at where the tight waist makes a gentle pooch right above it. He drags his eyes away to meet Johnny's gaze, thankful for the mask to help keep his expression level.

Johnny only laughs, seemingly pleased at being called a whore by his commanding officer. "Yer only sayin' that because ye want in my pants," he taunts, spinning around to show his ass off to Ghost before completing his spin.

Ghost abruptly makes a decision. Walking over he grips Johnny firmly by the nape of his neck, amused as Johnny instantly goes still and silent, eyes darkening at the pressure. "Let's go, pup. You're gonna get what you're begging for."

"What I—" Johnny chokes, trying to get words out, "LT, I was only joking—"

But Ghost doesn't listen, just turns them both to begin heading down the hall towards the barracks.

\\\

Pushing Johnny through the door first, Ghost directs him towards the bed, hand still placed firmly on the back of his neck, rough callouses scratching the thin skin. He might have unwittingly found Johnny's sweet spot because the sergeant was unusually quiet the whole walk.

He watches as Johnny sits down carefully, enjoying the uncertain hesitation of his movements. It was rare to see the younger man anything but cocky and self assured so this is a treat Ghost has every intention of savoring.

Moving over to the bed he pushes Johnny backwards, watching him collapse onto the bedding with slightly too fast breaths. Crawling over him with ease, he lifts his mask to right below his nose, rolling the fabric until it holds itself up. With no other warning he dives in for a kiss, immediately deepening it and pressing firmly into Johnny's mouth.

The other man moans at the first stroke of his tongue, slick and warm, before reaching up to grasp onto him tightly and kissing back with equal fervor.

Ghost took his time mapping out Johnny's mouth—tracing his teeth, stroking his tongue, tickling the sensitive gums, feeling the soft cheeks. He knows the sergeant is tough—he'd covered Ghost's ass enough times for that to be fact. But damn if he doesn't feel particularly soft in this moment. Ghost isn't sure if he wants to tuck Johnny up inside of himself where he could be kept, secure and warm, or if he wants to live inside Johnny's skin, always present, able to venerate this golden boy who is as warm as the sun.

Coaxing Johnny's tongue into his mouth is the work of moments. He's unable to help his filthy grind at the resulting vulgar groan when he begins suckling on it like a teat.

"Fuck, but you're a needy boy, aren't you?" Simon rasps as he pulls away slightly, panting into the space between their lips. He's pleased at the rapid agreement from the man below him, eager to continue. "I might just have to keep you. Tie you up to my bed, stuff a fake cock down your throat so you can't yell for help. Keep you wet and spread for me so I can slide right in after a day of dealing with idiots."

The choked, needy moan Johnny lets out as his eyes roll back is heaven. Ghost feels a wave of lust flood is veins and he knows right then and there he won't be letting this man go.

"You'd like that wouldn't you?" he continues, slowly rocking into Johnny. Short, soft, barely there thrusts that did more to tease than to relieve. "Being my little fuck pet to use as I see fit. Wouldn't need to worry that pretty little head about anything more than when your next orgasm will be."

Johnny shudders in arousal, little panting pleases dripping from his tongue. His eyes wide and soft.

Ghost smiles meanly, snaking a hand under his shirt to pinch at his nipples just because he can. Catching the resultant yelp in his mouth, he presses firmly against him, grinding his hard cock against Johnny's through layers of fabric, enjoying the dry rasp.

Pulling away from Johnny's chest once his nipples are swollen and puffy, he laughs mockingly as he notices the wet spot growing on Johnny's pants.

"Looks like someone's an eager little slut."

Scooting back to sit between his spread thighs, Ghost pulls down Johnny's shorts just enough to expose his cock and balls, cradling them with the bunched fabric. Johnny's cock slaps his stomach as it's freed with a meaty thwack, drooling thick drops of sticky precum onto his abdomen. Ghost reaches down to meanly pinch the ruddy tip, smiling at the resulting yelp before moving further down to play with his balls, rolling them in his palm and giving a firm squeeze intermittently.

"Look at this tiny cocklet. Cute little thing isn't it?" He says antagonistically, laughing callously as Johnny immediately flushes and begins arguing.

" 'S nae little! What are ye on about? Yer probably the one that's little. Go on then, let's have a look. Probably a wee pecker you have in there," he gestures at Ghost's pants, ignoring the tenting which made it clear there wasn't a wee anything about Ghost.

Smirking, Ghost pulls back to shuck his pants, sliding them halfway down his thighs and letting his cock springs out, pointing downward with the weight of itself. He can practically hear the swallow the Scotsman lets out in response.

"Well," Johnny croaks, flushing scarlet red, "that's why you think it's small, isn't it?Ye've got a fuckin' horse cock 'tween yer legs!" He gathers himself valiantly, "donnae mean mine is small, now ye take that back."

Still smiling meanly Ghost responds with a flat, bored, no, before leaning forward, wrapping a sizable hand around both their cocks, his fingers unable to meet due to the thickness between the two of them.

Setting a fast pace right out the gate, he delights in Johnny's wide-eyed gasp, mouth falling into an oh! of pleasure. He promptly makes it a objective to draw that sound out as many times as possible.

A handful of dry, rasping strokes follow before he lets go, ignoring Johnny's whine of pleading disappointment to reach up and grasp his mohawk, pulling him up and forward to hunch over. "Spit," he directs, aiming Johnny's face at their laps.

He hasn't ever seen Johnny so eager before, with how he spits on their cocks before tilting his chin up for a kiss like a dog asking for a reward.

Ghost laughs but can't help leaning down for another kiss, giving him what he's asking for so prettily. Pulling back he pushes Johnny's forehead causing him to fall backwards once more before wrapping his hand back around their cocks, smearing the wetness with a nasty twist before resuming stroking.

The wet glide is significantly better.

Johnny's back arches almost instantly, a loud, low moan falling from his open mouth. He reaches for Ghost—desperate, grasping hands that hold on tightly once they find purchase, reluctant to let go.

Ghost takes great joy in wringing every sound possible from his mouth, every twist, stroke and squeeze done with the sole purpose of finding every soft spot the other man has so he can exploit them ruthlessly.

"Christ, you're whining like a whore."

And he is. Johnny has tears gathering on his lash line, high-pitched uh uh uhs escaping with every stroke.

Ghost watches in awe, biting his cheek to give him something to focus on so he doesn't finish too quickly. Johnny is a vision spread out below him. Sweat dotting his face, mixing with the tears and drool he couldn't keep contained, a blissed out look in his eyes as he watches Ghost back, keeping their gaze locked.

That is the last straw for Ghost.

He focuses intolerably on the areas Johnny moaned the loudest for, touching him with intent. The younger man isn't able to hold back anymore and he comes with a long cry, audible to anyone passing by the room.

A final tug is all Ghost needs before he's finishing too, cum wetting the thick hair of Johnny's torso and pooling in the divot of his belly button.

As they pant in the aftermath, Johnny looks at him with something close to worship in his eyes before it's shrouded once more, pressed deep in an effort to hide and protect the feeling.

Ghost leans forward to give one final messy, wet kiss before backing away to fix his pants. He smacks Johnny's hands away when he reaches for the corner of the bedding with a harsh, leave it, pup, before pulling the orange Hooter shorts back up over Johnny's waist, tucking his slowly softening cock gently to the side.

Standing, he ushers Johnny to the door, opening it and gesturing him out without looking to see if anyone is around. Johnny's breath is still slightly too fast to be normal as he passes. With a firm pat on his ass, Ghost watches him walk down the hallway, still covered in sticky spend for anyone passing to see.

He'll have to come up with a more permanent way to mark him in the future and his mind is already whirring with possibilities.

banner by @/cafekitsune

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[laurfilijames]

Will needs better coping mechanisms than putting his dick in her … yeah it’s great but communication is better.

I never want this to end … but how many chapters do you think you’re going to do? 

Hi anon.

Thank you for stopping in with your opinions on how I've written my story.

I always appreciate feedback, but I'll be honest that this isn't necessarily constructive or useful and certainly isn't a good way of helping to motivate me to continue this series that you don't want to end.

It's fanfic. Is it a good representation of how relationships and real life should work? Probably not, but that's okay, because it's for fun and fantasy and indulging a bit. So no, maybe Will putting his dick in her every chance he gets isn't a great coping mechanism but it is for me so that's how I've written it.

I've worked my ass off trying to add depth to this story that when I started it, wasn't even sure it was going to turn into anything, and feel I've included a lot of communication and growth with these characters whether it's blatantly obvious, internal, or just implied. I'm sure I could've done a better job with certain things in this story and with my writing in general, but we're not about to crack open that can of worms. I think every writer deals with the insecurities of comparison and everything else that comes along with writing and sharing FOR FREE and at the end of the day, I am extremely proud of what I've done with this so I'm not about to sit back and apologize for not portraying things how you think they should've been or regret my creative decisions.

Circling back to you never wanting it to end, I'm very happy that you're seemingly enjoying it so much, but I don't have an answer as to how many more chapters there will be and quite frankly, this message knocked any sort of motivation out of me and makes me relieved that I don't have a definitive answer to give you.

I hope the tone of your message wasn't intended to be as negative and offensive as it has come off. I understand that tone does not come out through the internet and I'm unable to see your face or hear your voice so it's hard to know how you've truly meant this. I'm always open to have discussions about my fics as long as they're directed as kind and respectful, and I'll encourage you to consider keeping things you didn't enjoy about someone's fic to yourself.

[legendofmorons]

Wonderland -Prolouge

Hi! This has been a brain worm for like a year now. This is a series where it's like a choose your own adventure. I have a story line thay stems from this song for each Link (minus Wind).

I DON'T KNOW WHEN I'LL POST THE REST BUT I WILL (I'LL probably start posting towards the end of how to fall in love twice)

Pairing: Chain x reader

Rating:G

Summery: you reminisce on your time eith your ex lover. Some good, some bad.

Warnings: This is a song fic, it has the lyrics in italics.

Other: You don't need to read this to enjoy the rest of the series.

-------

Flashing lights and we took a wrong turn, and we fell down the rabbit hole. You held on tight to me 'Cause nothing's as it seems spinning out of control

Eveyrtime you fell through a portal it was like all the air was sucked out of your body and you were mixed around like scrambled eggs.

The way your head spins after it is entirely too ingrained into your memory. You still get nauseous at the very thought.

When they opened under you the one time you screamed as you grabbed onto your beloved hero, gripping his hand like a lifeline.

He let out a shout of surprise as the ground leaves him but his grip on you was strong even after the world stopped spinning.

The gentle way he made sure you were okay afterwards will never leave you.

Didn't they tell us don't rush into things? Didn't you flash your bright eyes at me? Haven't you heard what becomes of curious minds?

You can remember all your elders warning you not to rush into life, love, or danger. You didn't listen.

You took on Ganon in place of your at the time three year old brother. Then again three years later. Without any hesitation.

You tried not to rush into romance, but then he showed up. Kind, courageous, and someone who understands your history.

He pulled you into his gravity with nothing but a smile or smirk and his eyes flashing bright with joy.

He was curious, always asking about you and your history. His questions giving you hope.

But curiosity always leads to things you don't wanna know. Like the girl he's probably dating or going to date.

Ooh didn't it all seem new and exciting? I felt your arms twisting around me. I should've slept with one eye opened at night

Your first date was exhilarating. He'd taken you to a festival where you all danced for hours. It was beautiful and loud and just like him.

The way his arms wrapped around you made you feel so safe and cared for. Gentle but strong and warm.

The sway of your dance made you giddy as you laughed at his jokes.

If you'd been more aware of things- it would all hurt so much to think about now.

We found wonderland, you and I got lost in it, and we pretended it could last forever, eh. We found wonderland, You and I got lost in it, and life was never worse but never better, eh

You remember nights spent with a shared watch shift, cuddled up by the fire as you talk about anything and everything that can be talked about.

It was too easy, falling into a domestic routine. Checking on each other after fights. Patching each other up.

Giving small gifts. Gentle touches.

You would have given anything to make it last. You tried to believe that it could last.

And yeah… Everything was awful. You were being hunted down by some immortal godlike shadow. But also- you were happily in love!

So we went on our way too in love to think straight. All alone or so it seemed. But there were strangers watching, and whispers turned to talking, and talking turned to screams

You remember taking the quest on with a new found lightness. His hand in your's as you both ignored the monster attacks increasing.

You find yourself being watched by strangers everywhere you go, but you both think it's funny.

They are just jealous.

You remember the first argument you had though, the way your voices all raised. His, your's and everyone else's.

Ooh didn't it all seem new and exciting? I felt your arms twisting around me. It's all fun and games, still somebody loses their mind

You remember how thrilling each first in your relationship was. How gentle he was with you even if it clashed with his mature. He cherished you.

How he held you after your nightmares. Arms around you feeling so secure.

It was exciting, planning a future where he was in it. He adored the plans you made with him. He told you so.

And it was al so fun- until the end. Until the last portal opened and you watched him leave you standing alone. The last to go through you had a break down.

Oh darling, we found wonderland, you and I got lost in it. And we pretended it could last forever, eh. We found wonderland, you and I got lost in it. And life was never worse but never better, eh

You spend hours remembering it all. The first touch, first kiss, the way he held your face in his hands.

His voice plays in your head too often. And you would rather not hear it. It hurts too much.

You remember his hands in yours as you watched the clouds and the stars alike roll slowly across the skies. It was perfect.

It was. Even when you were all attacked over and over. You always had his back and he had your's.

I reached for you, but you were gone. I knew I had to go back home. You searched the world for something else to make you feel like what we had. And in the end, in Wonderland, we both went mad

You woke up the first morning after your return home only to reach for him to the other side of your bed. Your hand found sheets and it had been heart wrenching to remember he was thousands of years in the past.

You knew you couldn't stay with him. That your home needs you. That Hylia was not so kind to let you be happy together. And it still hurts

You wonder if he moved on? Did he have a family?

Selfishly, you hope he didn't. That he kept searching for traces of you.

[viennacherries]

WIP Tag Game

omg this is so exciting i've never been tagged in one of these before!! thank you @darkurgetrash for the tag i love u <3

gonna tag a couple of the besties: @cakeboxie @drizztdohurtin @underdark-dreams and all of my other moots who do writing <3 or if you don't write show us your art wips!!!

~~~

It's not like you didn't already know this, but it's becoming increasingly apparent that Rolan is not a patient person.

You'd managed to find a spot with a rock outcropping that made a good enough shelter. The problem is, for both of you to fit under it, it's a little cramped. But you didn't want either of you sat out in the open where anything could spot you, so you'd reluctantly backed up to the wall and against Rolan's side.

It's a bit maddening, being this close to him. His scent fills your nostrils (he smells like weave and something musky, like sandalwood), which is incredibly distracting, and up close you notice he's covered in freckles. They cover his cheeks and forehead and climb their way up to his ears. He's also taken his hair down, which is frankly rather rude of him. It looks soft.

What's ruder is the fact that he literally cannot sit still. His legs bounce where they're stretched out in front of him, and every few minutes he adjusts his posture with a loud groan.

When his leg starts bouncing again for the umpteenth time, your hand shoots out and grabs his knee on its own accord to hold it down. He jumps at the contact and whips his head towards you, and the look of alarm he's wearing would be funny if he wasn't driving you insane.

"Rolan. If you don't stop fidgeting I'll stop you myself."

He frowns. "I can't help it."

You arch an eyebrow, "right, so you want me to hold you down for the rest of the evening? Because I will."

His face flushes and he shakes his head no, so you withdraw your hand. You feel his body relax next to you.

"You may as well try and get some sleep. I can keep watch and wake you up when it's safe to move."

He clears his throat, "that won't be necessary. I'm fine."

You scoff. He's definitely not fine, he's been wiggling around since you both sat down. You tell him as such and the blush rises back to his cheeks.

"I'm not- That's not why I'm-" He sighs "I'm fine."

"Ah, yes. People who are fine usually writhe around like worms."

He scowls at you, but doesn't say anything. At that moment you feel a shiver rip through you. His face softens with concern.

"Are you okay?"

You nod, wrapping your arms around yourself, "I'm fine."

He pulls a face at you. "Ah, yes. People who are fine usually shake like leaves."

Okay, in fairness, you walked right into that one.

"I'm okay, honestly. I'm just a bit cold."

You hadn't really thought about it when you left the inn, hopped up on adrenaline, but now you're sat here you've begun to realise you're not dressed for the chill. You're wearing a pair of light trousers and an old sweater with holes in the sleeves; the clothes you sleep in. It was fine when you were racing around looking for Rolan and fighting shadow creatures, but now that you're sat still with your back up against rock the cold is seeping into your body.

Rolan looks you up and down a few times, then makes a noise of frustration. "Gods, I'm sorry. I should've thought to- I haven't got enough magic left to cast anything to keep you warm."

"It's fine, I'll manage. Besides, you're like a furnace."

It's true, you can feel the warmth from his body where his arm is pressed up against yours. You've trying not to think about it, but it's getting harder to focus on anything else.

There's a moment of silence, and a look of hesitation in Rolan's eye, before he lifts the arm that's against you and instead wraps it around your shoulder. You flinch.

"What are you doing?"

He's blushed again. "Well. We- tieflings, that is- we naturally run hotter. And I got you into this predicament, so the least I can do is stop you from catching pneumonia."

You try desperately to think of an argument that stops him pulling you closer, but you come up empty. You're cold and he's warm, and he smells nice and his hair looks soft, and you are a weak, weak woman.

When you don't say anything else, he tentatively stretches his arm back around your shoulder, and places his hand there awkwardly. You pull a face at him.

"That can't be comfortable, your wrist is at an angle."

He shrugs, which makes you sigh. You grab his hand where it rests on your shoulder blade and manoeuvre yourself so that you're resting your head against his chest. You wrap his arm around you and push yourself against him. He freezes.

There's a long moment where you wonder if you've overstepped a boundary, but then he's sinking himself down against the rock so you can better lean on his chest, and pulling you tight against the side of his body. There's a moment of hesitation before you feel him rest his chin on the top of your head.

His scent and warmth wraps around you and you can feel his heartbeat against your cheek. His chin on the top of your head is a comforting weight, and being surrounded by him like this feels... intimate. You like it.

"I'm sorry, Tav."

You frown, but don't move. "For what?"

He swallows heavily. "I really was unfair to you. It's not your fault Cal and Lia were taken. You're the only reason any of us made it this far in the first place. I lashed out and it wasn't fair."

You give a small shrug, as much as you can without shaking his arms from around you. There's a moment, and then he's moving anyway, turning to face you and holding both of your shoulders.

"Tav, I mean it. It wasn't your fault. I'm sorry."

His eyes are piercing and you struggle to look away despite how intense his gaze is. "You were right. I'm not a leader. I just wanted to do what felt right, but I've put people in danger in the process."

He shakes his head, "I wasn't right. The best leaders are the ones who didn't choose it. They're the people everyone follows because they believe in them." One of his hands comes down and grasps yours, and you feel your breath hitch. "People believe in you, Tav. I... I believe in you."

You don't know how to reply to that, so you don't. Another shiver rips its way through your body, and Rolan wraps both of his arms around you and brings your head back to his chest.

"For warmth, of course." He says it softly.

You nod. "Of course." Your voice comes out quiet and breathless, and you feel Rolan shudder minutely.

A voice in the back of your head tells you that you're walking a fragile line, that you're slowly inching your way over it. That once you cross it there's no going back. The warmth of his embrace must be clouding your judgement, though, because you find you don't care.

[alrightbuckaroo]

Alright, here's a little cheat as it's a Work is Published, but with love can pull you out of yesterday officially coming to an end, I feel like it's most apt to share a little something from the final chapter :)

“And the worst part about this, is that if this is,” God he can’t say the word, but he has to. His eyes linger on TK’s hand, and he thinks about the way their fingers used to interlock. “If this is goodbye, I can’t even hold your hand.”

His eyes move from TK’s soft hands to his chestnut strands. “Or run my fingers through your hair, or,” Eventually his eyes stop their journey as he takes in TK’s face. A face that Carlos sees every time he closes his eyes. “Kiss your head.”

He leans in closer as he feels a lone cold tear worm down his cheek. Its normal heat paling in comparison to the one that’s barreling inside of Carlos. “Not without it feeling like some kind of violation.”

“Believe people when they tell you who they are,” His anger is building upon itself, starting with a foundation of self-sought vengeance. “Just believe them, right?” Yeah, well that's exactly what I should've done when you walked out on our first date, I should’ve realized that's who you were.”

Carlos even acknowledged it before. He tried to give TK a meal and TK ran. He offered TK something even grander, a feast, and TK still ran. “That’s your mechanism of defense, isn’t it? Running?”

Eventually this wave of anger crashes against shore, leaving behind pieces of his shattered heart scattered amongst the teeny tiny grains of sand. “You asked me to feel safe with you.”

“And you know what hurts the most out of all of this?” Carlos asks, not expecting an answer back. He’s used to it by now.

Quietly, to himself, he says, “All I want to do is feel safe with you again.”

open tag +

Thanks for the tags:

@heartstringsduet, @strandnreyes, @honeybee-taskforce, @im-overstimulated-and-im-sad, @freneticfloetry

@lemonlyman-dotcom and @carlos-in-glasses :)

No pressure tagging:

@reyesstrand, @herefortarlos, @carlos-tk, @lightningboltreader, @americansrequiems,

@fifthrideroftheapocalypse, @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut, @basilsunrise, @bonheur-cafe,

@never-blooms, @nancys-braids, @mikibwrites, @paperstorm, @orchidscript

@theghostofashton, @whatsintheboxmh, @welcometololaland, @rmd-writes, and @your-catfish-friend :)

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

picking them up from work and nathan bateman

Send me a comfort prompt

It takes you a few moments to react. At first you're just...Gobsmacked. But when he tips his head forward, brows raising, it spurs you into action. You don't run and jump into his arms. If you did, he'd just be so, so confused. It's not because you're that girl—you can be, for the right person—but Nathan's just not that guy. He'd sooner hold his hands up to stop you than open his arms to catch you. Hell, he'd laugh about it, too, ask if you thought you were in a fucking Hallmark movie.

"What are you doing here?" You ask as you grow close enough for him to hear you.

"Haven't seen you in a while, figured I'd stop by."

"Just—Like that?"

"Well," Nathan tips his head from side to side, averting his gaze, and you have to fight back a knowing smile. Caught him. "I had some business."

"What kind of business?"

"Just a meeting."

"For what?"

"Do you wanna get in the car and grab dinner, or stand here and question me on the sidewalk?"

"Honestly? I'm happy to stand here and question you."

Nathan scoffs, pushing off of the side of the hired car and opening the door for you, grumbling, "Just get in."

You can't help but giggle as you climb in, giving the driver a quick wave in greeting. You settle back into the seat, turning to look at Nathan.

"So?" You arch your brows. "Where are we going?"

"So now you're going to question me in the car," Nathan sighs heavily, even as you worm your hand into his and intertwine your fingers. "I should've left you on the sidewalk."

--

"Tell me how your day was."

You raise a brow, propping one arm up on the table and resting your chin on your hand. You want to snark back, but for a moment, you just...Can't.

Sometimes the way Nathan watches you catches you so off-guard. It has an effect on you when you're video-chatting, but it's so much more acute when he's physically in front of you. When he's there, you know that he won't glance away to jot down a note or approve a change. It's even better now that he's pulled his chair up to the side of the table right next to you, rather than sitting on the other side of the table. His knees don't brush against yours, they press. His arm rests on the table, too, his fingertips gently sweeping against your arm.

They're little touches, but they're so sweet—like he can't help it when he's so close.

"See, the difference between you and me is that I ask questions," You tip your head toward him, "But you demand answers."

"And that's a bad thing?"

"I didn't say it was bad, it's just...Interesting."

"Opposites attract."

"Yeah, if you're a magnet."

His lips quirk, and you shift in your seat as he slides his other hand up your thigh.

"Fine. Please, oh please, will you acquaint me with the details of your day?" He asks dryly. You snort, reaching out and taking up your drink.

"You know what, I take it back. I prefer it when you demand answers."

"Then answer for fuckssake," Nathan laughs. You grin, shrugging.

"My day was fine."

"How was the check-in with your manager?"

"Not bad. She just wanted to see where I was with that rewrite."

"Didn't she only assign that, like, yesterday?"

"Yeah."

"So what's with the micromanaging? You can do your fucking job."

"I know that and they know that, but this is a big project with a short turn around. She's just keeping a close eye."

"Well, she needs to get the stick out of her ass. They're paying you for a reason."

"Awww," You coo. "If only people really knew how kind you are."

"Tell 'em all you want. They'd never believe it."

You smile, reaching out and cupping his cheek, feeling the bristles of his beard beneath your palm.

"Why didn't you tell me you were coming?" You ask.

"Honestly? I wasn't sure I'd be able to see you. If I did, I wanted it to be a surprise."

"Mission accomplished. But, you could've told me you'd be in the city anyway."

It takes Nathan a moment. He lowers his gaze to where his hand is resting steady on your thigh, his thumb sweeping across your pant leg.

"You've mentioned a few times that you don't get to see me that much."

"Yeah, because I don't."

"I didn't wanna disappoint you."

Your stomach flips. It seems like a bitter admission. You curl your hand around his jaw, tipping his head up to meet your gaze.

"You could never disappoint me," You insist softly. Nathan nods a little.

"...Unless you do," You add, "In which case, you know. I'd be bummed, but I wouldn't hate you or anything." You lean back in your seat, taking up your drink again. Nathan huffs a soft laugh through his nose, patting you thigh.

"Keep it up, baby."

"And if I do?"

"You're walking home."

"If I have to walk home, you're not gettin' any."

[sinner-sunflower]

P.2 HH Lucifer-centric AU 8/?

STORY 1, PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 9, PART 10, PART 11, PART 12, PART 13, PART 14, PART 14.5, PART 15, PART 16, PART 17, PART 18, PART 19, PART 20, PART 21, PART 22, PART 23, PART 24, PART 25, PART 26

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

When Keekee suddenly showed up at the hotel without her dad, Charlie had a slight moment of panic. Thoughts of 'oh my god, did they kill him?', 'is he locked up in Heaven???', 'I knew I or someone should've went with him', and 'please don't be dead dad!' went through her head.

Thankfully the cat familiar took pity on her and relayed her master's message and whereabouts. It didn't really stop Charlie from worrying but it eased her just a little bit to know that her dad is safe back home.

Charlie: I should go to him, right? To make sure he's really fine?

Angel: Toots, I think short king just needs a little time to himself. Just cos he said you can go doesn't really mean you have to go now.

Vaggie: I hate to say it but I think Angel is kinda right, surprisingly.

Angel: Oh fuck ya! I can give sound advices too, yaknow.

A chuckle from Cherri Bomb is what started a whole roasting session that they will surely laugh about later.

Cherri Bomb: Pfft, sure.

Angel: I do!

Husk can't help but join in on the teasing too.

Husk: Angel, just give up. You're gonna give that Fizzarolli guy a run for his money telling those jokes.

Angel: Gasp! Huskie, you too?! Betrayed by my own boyfriend.

Husk: I'm not your boyfriend!

The blush on the bartender's face could rival Alastor's outfit's shade of red. It became redder when Nifty let out a sinister-like gremlin laugh that no one in the hotel would like to hear if they can help it.

Nifty: Hehehehe. Not yet~

Angel: Husk, baby, have you been talking to others about your feelings fo' wittle old meeee?

Husk: No!

They continue to bicker and Charlie can't help but look at them with adoration. All of them have come so far and she can confidently say that they have evolved into somewhat of a family unit. A bit dysfunctional but she won't have it any other way.

Vaggie: Why don't you let the man sleep for a bit.

Charlie: I just worry, Vaggie..

The soft look her girlfriend gave her would've melted Charlie into a lovesick puddle if she wasn't so preoccupied with her dad.

Vaggie: I know, babe.

Alastor: I do have to agree with them, dear.

The ex-exorcist yelped in surprise at Alastor's sudden presence beside them while Charlie had grown accustomed to the man's nasty habit of sneaking up on people. Maybe she should invest a bell for him. Hmm... She wonders if her dad can make Al wear one.

Vaggie: Jesus, Alastor!

Charlie: You too, Al?

Alastor: Why don't you join us for a meal first, hm? That should give your father enough time to rest. I seem to remember that it was your turn to set the table, isn't that right, Vagatha?

Vaggie grumbles something in Spanish that Charlie is sure is a curse word but doesn't argue anymore.

Vaggie: Everyone, dining hall. Now!

And just like that, everyone stopped talking and went straight to the kitchen, leaving just Keekee, Charlie, and Alastor in the lobby.

Charlie absentmindedly pets Keekee who climbed up in her arms while looking at her family fondly. She takes notice of Alastor next to her sporting the same look as hers.

She's glad that he's opening up bit by bit. She wonders if her dad had anything to do with that or if Alastor just learned to trust on his own.

Speaking of Al and her dad. That's a can of worms that she was, at first, afraid to open. She's happy for her dad, don't get her wrong, but there's still days where she misses her mom. Sometimes, if she's in a really bad place, she imagines her mom coming back and all three of them living happily ever after again.

With Alastor in the picture, she became a bit afraid. Of being replaced as the most important person in her dad's life or how her once dream happily ever after will never be reality, she doesn't know.

But seeing Alastor's genuinely care for her dad; never leaving his bedside after the Roo debacle, leaving Marigold's everywhere (how romantic is that, Vaggie!), and providing solace for her dad that she knows she can't always give. Those actions told her that maybe despite not getting her original happy ever after with her mom and dad, she can always dream of a new one.

There's something different about Alastor right now, though. He looks more stiff than usual but sagging at the same time. It could be also be worry but Charlie thinks she knows Alastor enough to tell that he's irritated. And he's definitely leaning into his cane more.

Alastor, probably feeling her stare, sighs.

Alastor: What is it, my dear?

Charlie at least had the decency to be flustered for staring.

Charlie: Sorry, Al. But um... are you okay?

Alastor: Whatever do you mean?

Charlie: It's just- you look, I don't know, irritated? Or like annoyed? I know I sound hypocritical but dad's gonna be alright.

Alastor: I appreciate the sentiment, Charlie, but I have full faith in your father. He is not the source of my... mood. Not directly, anyway.

He accidentally said the last part instead of just thinking about it but thankfully it was quiet enough that Charlie didn't caught it.

His answer just made Charlie more confused. Tilting her head, she looks at the radio demon quizzically.

Charlie: So you are in a mood?

Alastor: Nothing for you to be worried about, my dear! It might just be my cravings.

Charlie: For... human flesh?

He gives her one of his more sinister grins, the one she's seen when he's hungry for blood (and not the cannibal kind). He's just being silly, she thinks to herself. She made a note to ask her dad about partner choices later.

Alastor: Fried fish.

And with that, Alastor disappears into the kitchen. Keekee purrs in Charlie's hold as her eyes trail the retreating shadow.

Charlie: What a creepy guy, huh.

Her pet only meows in response.

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

This wasn't how this chapter was supposed to end but I decided to cut it in half anyway.

Tomorrow is some meal moments and Charlie going to see her dad.

Don't worry, we'll get back to Luci in a bit!

[enbysiriusblack]

There was a loud knock on the door, followed by hushed arguments. Lydia and Cora both made their way to the door.

"It was definitely too much force."

"Then you should've knocked!"

"I'm not knocking! This is terrifying enough."

"You killed a giant snake, I think you can knock on a door."

The door abruptly opened, Lydia peering out to the four late teens awkwardly standing in their front garden.

"Mrs Pettigrew?" The only girl asked, curly brown hair bouncing as she pushed past two boys, "We're sorry to come to your home unannounced like this, but we got your address from Headmistress McGonagall."

"She's the head now?" Lydia blinked.

The girl nodded, "Yes. And my friend here thought we should come visit to talk to you about something that may be quite upsetting."

The girl's gesture to the boy on her left got Lydia's attention, as she looked at him properly and suddenly found herself in the past- James Potter showing up out of the blue practically every week during the summer, begging to grab Peter to hang out with.

"James?"

The boy almost rolled his eyes as he stepped forwards and awkwardly waved, "I'm Hari, actually. James was my dad."

Lydia's eyes widened, "I'm sorry for your loss."

"Well I should probably be saying that to you."

She paused, "Excuse me?"

"Hari!" The girl hissed, elbowing him in the rib.

Lydia opened the door wider, "Why don't you kids come in, we've just put the kettle on."

"Thank you", the girl smiled, grabbing the hand of a ginger boy behind her as she walked through the doorway.

"What if they're evil rat people too?" The ginger boy not so quietly whispered.

Cora guided them to the sofas, "Us? I wouldn't say we're evil and sadly not rat people, I do love those little worm tails."

The ginger boy snorted, cheeks turning red.

Hari took a seat, followed by a fourth boy.

Lydia poured them all a cup of tea, "So, you came here to tell us some upsetting news? Best get to it, our usual tea companion usually gets right to business with telling us bad news."

The girl nodded, "Yes, right. Well, Hari? Did you want to tell them?"

"No, not really."

She huffed, placing her own tea cup down, the ginger boy wrapping an arm around her waist, "I'm really sorry to tell you this, but your son is gone."

Lydia smiled, sipping her own cup, "I'm well aware, my dear. He's been gone for a long time now, seventeen years."

Hari frowned, "Do you not know about what's happening in the wizarding world?"

Lydia shook her head, "Not a clue. I left that place behind completely when I was about your age. Only stepped my toe in now and then when Peter needed me to. And my wife's a muggle so we've never really felt the need to go back there."

"Your son wasn't really dead", the girl started to say.

"But he is now", the ginger boy continued.

Hari nodded, "He got killed for being a traitor."

"Right, but by his own side, or hand, I suppose."

"Is your hand not on your side, Mione?"

"I really don't think that's the point, right now."

"Anyway, he died properly this time. When before he was a rat so he escaped and was ron's pet."

"Can we not mention that?"

"Right, sorry. And then he helped voldemort again and now he's proper dead."

"There's a funeral for him. A second one, I suppose. But that's why we're here, to tell you and invite you to the funeral."

"Sounds a bit bleak."

"Well, death is a bleak subject, Ron!"

"I know that!"

"Everyone knows that!"

Cora coughed, trying to get their attention, "Can we maybe explain this a little clearer?"

The fourth boy sat up straighter, "I brought a newspaper with me, I thought it might make it easier."

He passed the paper to the two women. They carefully read it, articles on Peter being a spy for the order and his recent death.

Lydia clutched the paper tightly, reading the words over and over and over again.

Cora smiled hesitantly at the four teenagers, "Thank you for coming to tell us. When is the funeral?"

"The fifth of next month", Hari spoke, "I found a graveyard close by here, I thought that might be what you two wanted."

Cora nodded, "Yes, that means a lot. Thank you."

They all stood up to leave, Cora showing them to the door.

Hari turned to her, "We'll all come to the funeral. But I wouldn't expect the place to be very full."

"Of course."

The fourth boy stepped forwards, a bouquet in hand that he passed to her, "I grew these for you. The flowers represent loss and innocence."

Cora smiled back, "Thank you, although maybe that last meaning isn't so accurate anymore."

The boy shrugged, "Well, there is a certain innocence through death, isn't there? No matter what you did in life, your body is now giving back to the world as you decompose."

"Neville!" Ron shouted.

Cora laughed slightly, "Right you are, neville, was it?"

He nodded, "And. Well you and your wife knew Peter Pettigrew at his most innocent. So no matter how much darkness he put into the world, you still hold the memories of his innocence. Which may have been tampered out but were still very much real."

Cora squeezed Neville's shoulder gently, "You're a good kid. And I know my wife would want me to tell you this, so can I just say. Your self worth comes from here", she pointed to his heart, "not from the outside world. And if people aren't paying you enough attention then get right in their face and just shout at them. What you do for others isn't what makes them care for you, they just do care for you. Okay?"

"Yes", Neville nodded, "I, um, I think I already knew that."

As the door shut, Lydia stood in the darkened hall, staring at the shut door, a photo of a young Peter clutched in her hand and the other holding the newspaper.

"He reminds me of him."

(for @jegulily-stuff <3)

[nocturnesmoon]

And if you die, I wanna die with you

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader Word count: 4.8k Tags: Angst, Hurt/No comfort, Heavy injuries, Flashbacks, Established relationship, Medical inaccuracies in terms of wounds and severity CW: Major character death, no happy ending, Canon Typical Violence A/N: ✨And if you go, i wanna go with you, and if you die, i wanna die with you, take your hand and walk away✨ (Read on Ao3) - "Would you still love me if i was a worm?" "Would you still love me if i was a Ghost?" -

The world is muted.

Completely muffled to your damaged ears, the aftershocks of the explosion were still fresh on your body. The sharp pain in your arm indicated most likely a broken bone, you couldn't even pinpoint where the rest of the screaming pain was coming from. Every little movement you tried to make send white hot pain through your skull.

"G- h…ost" you gasped for air, the sound of his callsign was supposed to be a yell, but it fell only on a whisper. You tried to look around, to locate the person you needed to see, but everything in your line of sight was rubble and debris, a distant fire and smoke. Each agonizing second that passed taunting you with the fact he wasn't responding.

You slowly raised yourself upwards, moving every limb that wasn't broken and supporting yourself against the ruined wall you had been pushed against. The air in your lungs stung, every breath you took reminding you of your state. You reach for your radio, trying to locate the box that should be strapped to your torso, but it was gone.

A groan bubbled up in your throat, it was hard to think when your own head felt like it was cracked wide open. You were rolling completely on barebones instincts, your only thought being to find him, to make sure he's okay.

You can still hear the occasional gunshots from somewhere else, everything is dampened, as if cotton has been stuffed in your ears. The probability of hearing damage becomes a much scarier reality the more you get back in tune with your senses.

You push it into the back of your mind, it's not important right now, it's a probability you can process later. The wall behind you is half crumbled down, too much pressure makes it threaten to spill right over you. You push against it, slowly raising yourself up to standing once again, your knees barely wanted to obey your internal commands. Everything in your body was delayed, your body wasn't listening to you.

Even as you commanded your arms to shield your fall, they weren't fast enough when your knees buckled under you and you faceplanted right into the dirt once again. "F- uck" you groaned, you didn't want to let the fear take hold, but you could feel its cold hands clawing at your ankles. Your eyes honed in on the rubble of debris in the corner, the place he'd pushed you away from in the last second.

One arm in front of the other your clawed at the ground, wincing at the feeling of your broken nails. In slow motions you began to move, crawling across the room that now felt so much larger. You still couldn't fathom that he had pushed you out of the way, you should've taken the fall, but he took your place.

It wasn't supposed to go like this whatsoever, he wasn't supposed to take your place, he was never supposed to take your place in danger. Air eludes you, making you gasp and sputter as you reach the mountain of broken ceiling and furniture.

"Simon…" you rasp hoping that he somehow could hear your strained voice from wherever he was. There was no response, only the muffled sound of the blearing wind, the distant fight and the screaming in your own mind. You caught sight of your bloodied hand, latched onto a chunk of the debris as you did your best to pull, you couldn't help the shaking, the innate fear that he might never respond.

Some of the stone and dirt trickle off, the piece pulls aside, and you notice the small critters crushed underneath. Some bugs you can't name, a roach that almost made it out. A worm, half its body mashed to liquid and other half still wiggling in desperate search of escape.

"Would you still love me if I was a worm?"

Simon looks up from his phone, a little caught off guard by the sudden intrusion of the silence. "Seriously?" he asks unimpressed, not having expected you to throw him that question of all things. He rolled his shoulders back, working out the tensing that had formed from laying at such an awkward angle in the bed.

"C'mon answer the question!" you swatted his arm, inching closer to him as you waited for his answer, "Would you love me if I was a worm?". You rolled onto your stomach and leaned closer to him, propping yourself up on your elbows and placing your chin in the palm of your hand.

"No"

You let out an exaggerated gasp of offence, "Why not?" you moved yourself even closer so you could place your head on his stomach, angling your body sideways in his bed. He sighed and put his phone away, his eyes flickering to you and giving you his undivided attention.

"Cause you'd be a worm, I'd probably crush you by accident" he gently ran a hand through your hair, rubbing his calloused fingers over your scalp. Your eyes fluttered from the sensation, the feeling of goosebumps going down your back.

Still, you manage to let out scoff in mock offence, "Mean." You pout and turn your body to lay on your back again, ignoring the way Simon fakes the sound of being crushed under your weight. You've seen him carry another soldier the size of himself, he would be fine.

He keeps his hand resting on your head, gently nudging you a little further up so you weren't laying it directly on his stomach. "Would you still love me if i was a Ghost?" he asks, countering your own silly question with one of his own. You raised a brow at that, curious that he was now indulging you in your sappy feelings.

"An actual ghost?"

"Yeah"

You turned your head to watch the curling smile on his lips, how you'd love to kiss the teasing grin right off. You blow out air through your nose, your shoulders jolting just a little in amusement. The question didn't sound like it needed a serious answer, it was obviously just a ploy on his own callsign. Yet you were out to annoy him right back, so you gave it some serious thought.

"Yeah, I think I would," you say with a grin on your face, "I mean I know you'd always watch over me." His smirk widens at your answer, looking at you as if he didn't quite believe your sentiment. "Even if I couldn't see you, I'd love the fuck out of your ghost," you roll your body again, letting out a satisfied huff when you settle atop of him, and he starts complaining again.

You always knew it wasn't serious, his complaining amounting to nothing because instead of pushing you right off he pulls you closer. Cuddling you tight as he mumbles his complaints in your ear, while you can still hear the teasing smirk on his lips.

Your mouth feels like it's full of sand, the dry heat stirs your discomfort to a new level. The sting in your eyes is no longer from the impact, and you bite back on your tongue to muffle a cry. A cry for him to hear, the one only he could soothe, the ache only he knew how to quell.

A newfound strength burrowed itself in your bones from your agony, the drive to pull chunk after chunk. Every little piece brought you closer and closer to your goal, to something that was terrifyingly far away. Every piece hurt; every stone made your hands bleed even more. Every new area uncovered that didn't show sign of him festered in your heart, every moment you didn't find him stabbed a knife into your wretched heart.

Your own lungs couldn't contain you, the need to scream his name bubbled up and was just barely suppressed when you saw that familiar glove. The one you had studied in your own hand time and time again, the hand it usually encompassed wasn't there. His skeleton gloves having been pulled off during the tumble. Your own shaking hands grab it and hold it close to your chest, it was full of dirt and blood, the bone markings ripped, and some parts were even peeling off.

You quickly pocketed the gloves, intent on giving them back to him as soon as you both got out of here. They meant a lot to him, even if it was for silly reasons, he always wore them, they were his. The mountain of rocks felt like an impossible task, but he had to be here, you had to get to him quick.

There was no way to know what kind of state he was in, but guessing from your own injuries his would be even worse. The cold dread started to form in the pits of your stomach, you wanted to throw up. This was never supposed to happen to either of you, you were supposed to be invincible, you were supposed to be able to protect each other from harm.

That was the problem, he had protected you from harm, in the one moment where you wished he didn't. You removed another piece of debris and felt your heart spike in your throat. His hand was covered in a layer of grey dust, his blood coating a thin streak right over his palm. You felt your panic take hold, the creeping fear now sinking its cold teeth into your back.

Piece after piece after piece is removed in a haste, and you let out a cry of frustration when some of it tumbles in the wrong direction. You uncover his arm; the fabric of his shirt is torn but you no longer pay attention to the extent of the damage. The rest of the rubble covering him is easily removed, and you settle next to him, frantically searching his body for wounds before checking his lucidity.

His mask is torn in half, his balaclava ruined and giving a view of the bruises underneath. You choke back on a sob, seeing the mangled state he was in sent spikes straight into your heart. "No no no," you move your shaking hands to his face, gently sliding his mask fully off so you could cradle his face.

Tears filled your eyes making it hard to see, what was right in front of you. You tried to gently shake him, while trying to hold back what would become hysterical sobbing. He wasn't moving, you couldn't see if he was breathing, he wasn't responding. "No no no! You can't leave me, i can't do this without you!" you cried out for him, "Simon!"

"I can't do this without you" you sobbed, your pouring tears mixing with the downfall of rain. It was all too climactic, too cheesy and movie like, you hated it more than anything, because the pain in your heart didn't feel like when you watched those movies. This was real, and it held unfathomable power over you, a single person’s answer being able to either make the rain stop or tear your world in half.

He stood in front of you motionless, he looked something akin to a statue in the darkness. You desperately wished he would be more expressive, at least for you, at least in this moment. His clothes were soaked through, his balaclava sticking uncomfortably to his face no doubt. You had no idea how long he had been out here waiting for you.

"I don't want to do this without you Simon," you pleaded with him, "I know you said it wouldn't end well, and that my feelings would pass but i know they won't." You spoke pathetically through your tears, you wanted to scream at him, blame him for getting you into this but you knew it wasn't just his fault. You were just as much to blame, for the developing of your feelings.

It had started off as a simple arrangement, something to get both of your frustrations out after missions. However, it quickly developed into so much more, you had promised each other to keep it on a tight leash, to not let it become more than that. You both knew after that first night that it wouldn't be possible to keep it from running loose.

"I love you."

Your eyes were desperately searching him, looking for anything that could be deciphered as an answer. He drove you crazy, every single part of his existence drove you to that line of madness. A love, an obsession, a devotion so strong it was breaking you to know he didn't want to feel the same.

"I don't want to just forget about you, i want you, all of you," you continued, consciously glancing away as you couldn't take his piercing stare anymore. "I want us to be together, to grow together, to die together," you feel the cracks in your voice get worse, "I know you said we shouldn't fall in love, but i want to love you SimMmh-"

You feel his rough lips crash unto yours, forcing you to step backwards in shock but he would only follow. In all your years knowing him, you never understood how he moved so much muscle so effortlessly, and so quietly, nonetheless. You hadn't even noticed how he had bolted forward in the middle of your grand speech, how he had ripped off his balaclava and exposed his hair to the rain.

You only felt how his lips moved feverishly against your own, how his hands grabbed your face and waist and pulled you closer. His grip was strong, there was no escape even though you didn't even want one. You move in sync with him, feeling his caressing tongue, his digging fingers, and his soft groan. He kissed you like you were the only person in the world.

"You're a bloody fool" he whispered against your lips, resting his forehead against yours as you pulled in air. "To not see how much I love you too, how fuckin' enamored I am with you," his dark brown eyes stare straight into your own, "Don't you understand just how much I would do for you? It scares me to love you, because I know I would do anything you'd ever ask of me, I’d give you my heart, my soul, I’d tear my own flesh if you wished it of me."

You stared back in shock, taking in his words like were they priced possessions you would never get again, "I just want to be with you, I don't want to be alone anymore". You couldn't tell what was rain and what was tears on your wet cheeks anymore, but the way he held you, so carefully wiping tear and rain away, like you might break if he moved the wrong way did things to your heart.

"Then that's what we'll do, no more hiding from each other" he whispered close to you, the overpowering sound of pattering rain deafening the world around you. Creating a bubble of safety that consisted just of two, "You'll never have to be alone again".

The sound of his rasp cough made you jerk your hands away from him. In one quick motion your wiped away the tears that blurred your vision so you could focus on him. He looked so pale, his eyes half lidded as he slowly moved his head.

"Oh god, oh my god Simon, why did you do that!" you can't help your outburst and the tears that come along with it, you shake him not thinking of his injuries, "You can't just do that!" A weak hand gently grazed your arm to make you stop.

"E- Easy" he struggled to get his words out, he was no doubt still adjusting to the disorienting feeling. The hollow look in his eyes terrified you, and you quickly grabbed his hand squeezing it tight in your own.

"Simon, you're…" your teeth sink into your own lip, you hadn't checked the extent of his injuries, you hadn't checked where he was bleeding or if it was all blunt. Your eyes scan him but it's hard to see in the darkness, his black gear and attire blending in with the grey shadows engulfing you both.

You feel him trying to squeeze you back, but the force is so feint, if you didn't know any better you'd think there's no intent behind it. "M…okay…" his voice is so quiet in your ears, even more muffled than the rest of the world around you.

"No no you’re not!" you have no idea whether you’re shouting or screaming or crying, it's probably a mix of all three. Your free hand starts moving around his torn clothes, pushing it aside to get a look at the scratches and cuts on his body. Your eyes fall to his stomach, the place where his shirt is clamping to something wet.

Your heart catches in your throat and you choke out a pathetic noise. You didn't want to raise his shirt, you already knew what you would find, but you didn't want to know what it would mean for you right now. "Hey…" his voice sounded so solemn, as if he already knew, as if he already had it figured out how it would end.

"S'ok…" he mumbled quietly, trying to squeeze against your hand. He sounded almost floaty, the pain going through him must be immense, enough to mess with his head if the fall didn't do it.  "B- Breathe darling…need you to stay strong, okay?" you hadn't even noticed the way you were starting to panic again.

You never understood how he did it, how he managed to stay so calm during such crucial situations. You were good at keeping a level head in most types of life-threatening situations, but this was different, too different. "Why did you do that? Why did you push me away," you bite down on your tongue intentionally, now desperately wishing you had a better control over your emotions.

"M'always gonna push you away from the danger," he says quietly, a smile that was barely visible resting on his lips. "It's what we agreed wasn't it?" his hand gently comes up to graze your cheek, the weak nature of his shaking hand only made you cry harder.

"Not like this, it wasn't supposed to be like this," You cup his hand that's resting against your cheek. His thumb gently vibes away the falling tears, and you feel the way it runs over a bruise. It hurts but it's nothing like the ache in your heart.

"And you?" he asked quietly, the soft glow of the cigarette bud illuminating him in the night, "Would you give your life f'mine?" The conversation had come up during your nightly ramblings, going over everything and nothing, however the mood strikes.

"Without hesitation," you say determinedly, reaching out to grab the cigarette from him so you could take a puff. "I'd trade my life for yours any day" you tell him again after your drag. He looks at you with an amused glint in his eyes.

"No hesitation, huh?" he leans back against the wall behind him, watching your expression as he contemplates it. "I think, if it came down to it, I’d be okay with dying if it was with you" he says after a moment of thought, he takes the cigarette back and flicks off the gathering ash.

"Hmm" your noise of disagreement wasn't lost on him; you move in front of him walking into his space and staring at him with narrowed eyes. "Yeah, but you're not dying" you say and press a finger against his chest, almost accusatorily.

He lets out a scratchy chuckle, clearing his throat before returning your stare in an amused way. "Not planning on it anytime soon sweetheart" he takes your hand in his own before bringing it to his lips, "How could I ever let you be alone like that."

"I know…I know," he hates the sound of your cries, it feels worse than the blearing pain his stomach. "Love…are you injured?" every word he speaks becomes harder and harder to force out. His body isn't working with him, and he despite how much he doesn't want to accept it, he knows it's no use. His only chance now is making you realize you need to get out of here.

"No….yes…..I…fuck.." it's hard to think when it feels like everything you ever cared about is on the line. "I'm okay…I’ll live…" he nods slowly in response, his eyes clenching shut as he bites back on a groan of pain. He knows what he's about to ask of you is gonna cause undesired feelings to stir within you, he doesn't even know if he can convince you, but he has to.

"Listen to me darling," your eyes snap to his droopy ones, he envied your awareness, "You need to survive….you need to go." Your eyebrows furrow, a frown falling onto your lips as you realize what he's asking you to do.

When you just think the situations, severity couldn't dawn on your harder, it does. Your stomach churns with nausea, a million different scenarios going through your head to think it through, but it all boils down to it, there's no way you can get him out of here.

"No no wait just let me think I can…" you rub your hands frantically over your face, trying to force some sort of epiphany to happen in your brain. The one thing that could save you both, anything that would not have you leave him here to die. "Shit, your radio, do you still have it? Mine broke doing my fall but if yours…" you move his shredded gear around to look for a sign of his radio.

You had no idea whether the radio would even work out here, it was a likely scenario that there is some kind of jammer up by now. But if there's even a sliver of hope, a small chance you could call for evac, or backup, or anyone, you'd take it. There was no way you were carrying him out here on your own.

All you had to do was find his radio, and pray it wasn't crushed under the debris.

"Darling…darling no….stop" he tries to catch your frantic hands, but his movements are too slow to do it before you move them to a new place. It's as if he can feel his own heart start to slow, every single second that passes he knows it's just a few more until he'll close his eyes. "Stop," his authoritative tone is so different on your ears, but it still makes you listen like a spellbound command.

The radio is nowhere to be found, in bits and pieces alongside most of his other gear. Crushing the hope, you had along with it, taking your final chance at saving him right out of your grip. It makes you freeze faster than any of his commands ever has done before.

He presses you to his chest, successfully maneuvering you into an awkward position that's halfway into his lap. The fall he took when the debris crushed him from above, left him in a weird almost sitting position.

You latch onto him, angling your hands to put pressure on the wound hiding beneath his shirt. You desperately wish it would help, as if by some comedic divine intervention would heal his wound and you could go on home. That if you just believed hard it enough then maybe this wouldn't be happening to you or to him.

"S'ok, s'gonna be okay love."

The cough that escapes his lips betrays his words of assurance; you look up from your place against his chest. Red blood smears down his chin, indicating of how little time you could have left. You don't want him to go, there's still so much you want to do with him, this isn't how it was supposed to end.

"M'gonna marry you someday," he mumbled sleepily into the crook of your neck. He was heavy on top of you, all of his weight relaxed unto your body and giving you the grounding, you needed. A long time ago he would be worried he would crush you, now he relishes in the feeling of relief he can give you, and the soft scalp scratches he gets for it.

"What?" you ask dumbfounded, it had been total silence between the two of you. You had been sure he had been asleep in all honesty, and then his voice rumbles out. Not just catching you off guard by him being half-awake, but the nature of the statement aswell.

"M'gonna get you a wedding ring, n' m'gonna marry you," he continues his mumbled rambling. You wonder if he even knows he's telling you this, if he's in that state between awake and sleep, his walls of defenses completely gone as you hold him.

If it was possible to have hearts for pupils, that's probably what'd you look like in this moment. So drunk off of his love, and he wasn't even awake to witness it. "You want to marry me?" you had already gotten your answer, but you wanted to hear it again, and again and again. Right up until that fated moment at the altar when you would finally hear the words.

"I do"

"M'sorry I couldn't marry you," his shaking hand cradles your face as you cry into his chest, using all the strength he has left to comfort you and assure you. Despite the way he's starting to dip in and out of consciousness.

The engagement ring, hanging in the chain you wear under all your gear, normally safely nestled against your chest, now burned like a thousand suns against your flesh. The promise that was supposed to be fulfilled a year from now, the promise of something better, a future in each other’s arms no matter what the world would throw at you.

"I can still see it, the little cabin we would retire to, the animals you'd insist on keeping, our nights spent on a porch watching a sunset"

"Please…Si…"

His smile is crooked, the blood coating his dried and dusted lips hurts to look at. It's not supposed to be there, it's not supposed to be his. Everything you had promised him would fade into dust, every little whisper of something better would mean nothing. Your relationship falling into the dark corners of your memory.

"It's gonna be okay….we'll…see each other again….I'll always watch over you…remember…" he tries to cheer you up, to lessen the impact he knows his inevitable demise will have on you. He can see it in your face, the betrayal and hurt, the uncertainty and pure devastation. "C'mon, lemme see that beautiful smile," he urges you.

When you don't comply he tries to do a dramatic pout, mimicking your own behavior in an argument with him. You can't decide if you appreciate his less serious side in this moment, you don't know how to feel yourself.

"C'mon," he says again, "Why don't blind folk skydive? Cause it'd scare the shit out of their dogs." The joke is old, used, but it's so him you can't help the small smile that tugs on your lips. "There it is, that gorgeous smile," he mirrors it, smiling brighter through the pain in hopes of you doing the same.

"Simon," there's a longing in your voice, the look in your eye so full of sadness it doesn't even escape your smile. He knows what you’re thinking, all the inevitabilities that'll happen after this moment. How desperately he wishes he could be there for you, that he could do something, anything to alleviate the situation.

The calm acceptance is already rolling through his brain, his quiet thoughts preparing him for the darkness his mind is slowly pulling him towards. You come impossibly closer to him, soaking up to him and taking every moment as the last. Your forehead gently rests against his, and he takes initiative himself to taste your lips one final time.

It's a slow agonizing kiss, every thought, every emotion, every promise is poured into it. His lips connected with yours, allowing you peek at his mind, his darkest fears becoming a frightening reality that you're going to be left with.

"I love you"

He holds you close for a long time, and you stay even longer. Even when his arms slowly go lax around you, even as his eyes close, even as his movements seizes. You don't find it in yourself to let him go, even as his body goes cold and his last breath is exhaled. You stay in his cold embrace, his name falling from your lips in silent prayer. A prayer directed to anyone that could hear you, that they might give back your lost love.

[poedameronthighs]

Come on. I'll carry you to bed + Marc?

marc spector x fem!reader

a/n: oh fuck me this is so soft and cozy. nothing but pure sleepy fluff ahead

ao3

It had been a long day.

Marc can tell as soon as you walk in and head straight to the shower, can tell because forty minutes later you emerge, fresh-faced, in sweats and one of his shirts, smiling at him in a tired way that doesn't quite reach your eyes.

"Hey, Marc," you say, stepping into his embrace. Marc holds you close, bending his head over yours.

"Hey, baby. Dinner?"

You readjust from where you have your face buried in his chest, peeking over his shoulder to the place on the counter: leftover pasta and sausage. Your stomachs grumbles and you whisper, "Yes, please."

Marc knows it was a long day because you tell him so between bites of food, about the annoying coworkers, obnoxious email chains, passive aggressive sticky notes - he can't imagine working the kind if job you do.

In return, Marc tells you about his day, about what Steven and Jake got up to, that he might be leaving in the next few days. Your face visibly falls at the last point, and Marc can't have that, so he reaches across the corner of the table and nudges your chin.

"Listen, I know you're off tomorrow, so I thought we can just stay home."

You perk up, smiling and sitting up straighter, leaning into his touch in a way that never fails to set off a whole swarm of butterflies in his stomach.

"Okay," you say. "I like that idea."

And can you really blame him for leaning over, cupping your cheek, and kissing you? He's been waiting all day for this, the way you always sigh and melt into his kiss - God, he really did love you.

"Marc," you whisper when you break the kiss to catch your breath, nudging your nose with him.

"What is it, baby?"

You open your eyes, blinking up at him beneath long lashes.

"There's a new documentary out I wanna watch."

He can't help it - Marc snorts with laughter, pinching your cheek lightly as he pulls away and takes your plate. Judging by your pleased smile and the way you watch him move around, chin in palm and eyes blinking sleepily, he thinks making him laugh was your goal.

But fifteen minutes into the hour long documentary about the Library of Alexandria, Marc looks over at you to find your eyes growing heavier with every slow breath you take. He should've sent you to bed after dinner but your insistence to stay up and watch something with him makes his chest feel warm and good. Marc realizes he's smiling at you, face open and soft; you tend to draw that out of him.

"Baby," he murmurs, squeezing your hand lightly. Rousing, you blink hard and shift, rubbing your eyes on his bicep.

"Mm, what - I'm awake," you say, groggy already and voice thick.

"Right," Marc says, amused. He rubs his thumb across your knuckles and watches the way the light from the television plays with the lines and shadows of your face. "You should just go to bed."

For some reason, you frown.

"But I'm cozy here," you argue, wiggling like you could possinly worm and burrow closer. "Don't wanna."

"Baby," Marc repeats, the slightest hint of exasperation creeping into his tone. "Go to bed, sweetheart."

"You aren't coming to bed though," you argue, nose scrunching, and Marc is very slightly overwhelmed by how cute you are. "Wanna stay with you. You make bad days better."

And, oh.

Oh.

Marc swallows thickly, and blinks hard. Your eyes are still trained on the TV screen, but he can tell you're starting to zone out again, the call of sleep too alluring, and yet - you don't want to go to bed because you want to be with him.

Every time Marc is reminded of how much you care for him, how much you truly love him, he feels a sensation in his chest like caving in. Like a lung is collapsing.

There is nothing he wouldn't do for you - all he wants is to keep you safe, keep you happy, and if that means staying by your side... somehow, some baffling way, Marc makes you happy, Marc and Steven and Jake, all three. He can hardly wrap his mind around it most days, but he thinks he's getting better at accepting it.

Your eyes are drifting closed again and Marc just sighs, something in him relaxing.

"C'mon," Marc says gently, setting the remote down, and turning towards you, jostling you slightly. "I'll carry you to bed."

You startle slightly, toeing the line between sleep and wakefulness, and only hum and put your arms around Marc's neck, kicking your feet happily as Marc gathers you to his chest and stands. The sensation of ground falling away from beneath you always jolts you, and you cling to him a little tighter, burying your nose in the curve of his neck, beneath his jaw. He smells good, like his aftershave and something else you're too sleepy to try and name.

You can't remember why you were fighting sleep.

The mattress dips as Marc sits on the edge, adjusting you so he can hold you close with one arm, and reach for your claw clip with the other that held your hair in place. He pulls it out as gently as it can and drops it to the floor, then twists and lays you down. Immediately you frown, reaching for him, blinking hard and looking up at him from beneath your lashes.

"Hey, I'm here, baby," Marc says, shushing you gently. He climbs over behind you and angles your head away from him. "Gonna braid your hair for you."

He knows how you hair sleeping with your damp hair lose, how you hate the sensation of it on your neck and face when you try to sleep. He's never seen you sleep with wet hair that is not in a braid and he didn't want you to have a bad night because of it.

In no time at all, Marc ties off the tail and leans over to look at your face; the soothing motions of him plaiting your hair had long since lulled you fully to sleep. The relaxed look of your slack, sleeping face never fails to send a pang through Marc's chest, a feeling that only lessened by holding you close, and strengthened when he is faced with the reality of how much you not only love him, but trust him.

Thankful you are asleep, and he no longer has to speak, Marc leans over you to turn off the light, the tucks himself behind you, curling an arm around your waist, your body pliant in sleep.

You always fit against him like you are made to be there.

[nyaskitten]

(Nya takes the covers off of a skeleton.)

Nya: Some villagers unearthed the remains of this Fangpyre a few miles away. It predates the Golden Age, and must be hundreds of years old. Although the venom in the fangs of the Fangpyre genetically mutate human cells into reptilian, I've learned there could be a way to stop the effects without having to create an antivenom. (Zane is shown taking notes while Kai is bored. Cole is drawing a picture of him fighting while Jay, sporting a new hairstyle, stares at Nya with an infatuated expression on his face.) If one is able to wildly raise their heart rate, hypothetically it could reverse the venom's effects. (Her cheeks turn pink.) Resulting in...diminished, uh, excuse me, is someone wearing perfume? I'm severely allergic to perfume.

Jay: Heh. (Whispers to Kai) You told me it was men's cologne.

Kai: Meh, I get them mixed up. (Everyone but Jay and Nya laughs. Zane turns his humor switch off.)

Cole: Ah, looks like class is over. Time to start stomping some Serpentine before they find any Fangblades.

Kai: Sounds like a plan.

Zane: I'm excited to join. (Jay waits for them to leave.)

Jay: Uh, hey uh, Nya, I'm sorry. The reason I was—you know—I went to Kai because—look. What I'm trying to say is—

Nya: I know. It's just a cruel joke. I should be fine. Please, go fight snakes.

Jay: No, no, no, no. I was trying to impress you. Before Sensei left, he said our heart was the key to unlocking our True Potential.

Nya: Impress me? But I look so...

Jay: Fantastic. (Nya begins playing with her hair.) Look, maybe, if you'll let me, I can take you to some big fancy restaurant. You don't have to, if you don't want to...

Nya: You mean like a date?

Jay: Um, yeah?

Nya: Sure! I'd love to. But I have to go now before the perfume toxins enter my bloodstream and I go into shock. See you tonight. (She leaves.)

Jay: Yes! (Laughs, and accidentally pricks himself on the skeleton.) Ow! Aah! Man. (He leaves unaware of a trickle of venom dripping from the skeleton.)

(On the Mountain of Madness, Wu confronts Garmadon.)

Garmadon: Hello, brother. What took you so long? You brought the katana from our youth. Funny, you never had the courage to cross the temple wall, yet now you have the courage to come here.

Wu: Why have you come to this place of darkness?

Garmadon: A place as wicked as me? Don't you see? Here I feel at home. In Ninjago, I was physically unable to hold all four Spinjitzu Weapons. But here, dark magic has made me stronger and what was once impossible is now possible. (He reveals he now has four arms.)

Wu: You came here only to possess the Weapons of Spinjitzu?

Garmadon: Yes, brother, and I refuse to allow you or your petty ninja to stop me! (He summons four weapons to wield and starts attacking his brother.)

Wu: (He falls down in a pit of mud and tries to fend against the mud monsters.) Brother, I've not come here to—

Garmadon: You will pay for your visit. Mud monsters, converge! You don't belong here, old fool. You should've known better than to try to stop me.

Wu: (Struggling) I didn't come to stop you. I came to warn you. To tell you—your son's in danger! Aah!

Garmadon: Lloyd? (He pulls Wu out of the mud monsters.) What has Lloyd gotten himself into?

Wu: He has opened a can of worms I fear I will never be able to close.

Garmadon: You mean we will never be able to close. Get up. You can tell me more later. First, we need to return home. How did you find me?

Wu: Traveler's Tea. But I used it all and now have no way back.

Garmadon: There is only one way to return to Ninjago. But to get there, we must pass through the Mountain of Madness and it is a long and dangerous road ahead.

Wu: I wouldn't have it any other way.

Garmadon: We should leave. Before it really gets dark.

(The Serpentine dig their way aboveground just outside of Mega Monster Amusement Park.)

Skales: This is it, Pythor. The map leads us here. The first Fangblade. (He points to the park.) Maybe it's better to wait until dark, so we don't attract any unwanted attention from the ninja or Samurai.

Pythor: Oh, I have a feeling we'll fit right in.

(A kid runs away and screams.)

Employee: Hey, don't go.

Man: Excuse me. Would you mind if my family takes a picture with you?

Woman: Your costume is so authentic.

Pythor: Of course. Welcome to—to, uh (He looks at a sign.) Mega Monster Amusement Park!

Skales: Say cheese.

All: Cheese!

(At the Destiny's Bounty, Jay is getting ready for the date.)

Jay: Did I ever tell you I was the first one to learn Spinjitzu? No, I mean, uh, I invented Spinjitzu. Yeah, that's it. And i invented a few other moves, like the karate double chop. Hyah! (He looks at his hand, which has formed green scales.) No! No, no, no. The prick from the Fangpyre fang! Oh, no. This isn't happening. No, it's nothing. It's just a rash. It'll probably just go away. You're gonna do great, Jay. This is your chance to shine. Hehe. (He goes to the bridge wearing gloves.)

Cole: Whoa, where are you going, Mr. Fancy?

Jay: Didn't you hear? I'm taking Nya to a nice restaurant. A really nice restaurant.

Kai: You might wanna change your plans. The bridge just picked up evidence of Serpentine activity over at Mega Monster Amusement Park. (The monitor shows a photo of Serpentine in the park.l

Jay: Hey, that's Pythor.

Zane: Pythor would not be there for fun. We believe a Fangblade may be buried underneath the park.

Jay: We can't let them get it! Oh, but my date...

Kai: Jay, if they get all four of them, Pythor can unleash the Great Devourer. Get your priorities straight, man.

(Jay gets an idea and goes knock on Nya's door just after she comes in as Samurai X.)

Nya: Huh?

Jay: (opening the door) Uh, Nya, you there? (Nya slams the door.) Argh!

Nya: Don't come in! I'm getting ready.

Jay: Well, um—I just wanna talk to you about our date. You know, I'm hearing really bad reviews for the restaurant and I just...

Nya: (Her bracelet projects a map.) Serpentine spotted at Mega Monster Amusement Park?

Jay: You know, I think we should cancel.

Nya: (She opens the door.) Oh, you're canceling?

Jay: No, no. I just wanted to know if you would rather go to the Mega Monster Amusement Park instead.

Nya: Really? That would be perfect! But aren't you overdressed? (Nya gasps when she sees her Samurai helmet in view.)

Jay: Well, yeah. Of course, I need to change— (Nya kicks the helmet.) What was that?

Nya: Nothing! You know what? I'll dress up too. Looks fun.

Jay: Hey, I was thinking, you know, we'd take my Storm Glider there.

Nya: Sounds like fun. (She comes from behind a changing screen in a sequined dress which stuns Jay before he smiles.) I'm in your hands. (They take off.)

(Wu and Garmadon follows a path that leads to the Mountain of Madness.)

Garmadon: So, what kind of trouble has Lloyd gotten himself into?

Wu: Well, I'm afraid to say, the worst kind. He's reopened the Serpentine tombs, and now that they have united, Pythor is trying to find the Four Silver Fangblades to unleash the Great Devourer.

Garmadon: The very snake that turned me evil?

Wu: Yes.

Garmadon: Why would Lloyd open the tombs?

Wu: To be like you.

Garmadon: I never wanted him to. Thank you for watching out for him.

Wu: You may think of me as your enemy, but I was first your brother.

(Jay and Nya arrived at a restaurant in Mega Monster.)

Jay: Yeah, even when I was young, it was clear I was born and bred for adventure. I was the first one to get my knot badge in Little Scouts. I was always trying daring foods. I once built these wings from scrap metal and other—uh, you okay? You seem kind of distant.

Nya: Uh, yeah. It's just the portions are so big. And to think we split our dish.

Jay: Heh. So that Samurai. Oh, man. I hate him, don't you? He's such a showboat, you know? If you ask me, he's nothing without his big, clunky exo-suit.

Nya: Oh.

Jay: Yeah. Nothing can compare to two good old fashioned feet and fists, don't you think?

Nya: Yeah, sure.

Jay: You know, sssomebody once told me... (He gasps and looks at his reflection in a spoon. He realizes he has fangs.)

Nya: You okay?

Jay: Excusse me. I have to use the resstroom. (He enters the restroom and discovers he's turning green before removing his glove and seeing his hand in the same condition.) Oh, gosh. I'm turning into a snake! (A man tries to enter the restroom.) I'm busy, dude! Can't you see it's taken? I can't go out there looking like this. This is the worst date ever!

(Meanwhile, a group of visitors is riding an attraction that is meant to be scary.)

Man: Ha! Lame! This ride is stupid. (He sees the Serpentine digging.) Heh, look how stupid this guy looks. (He and the others were sprayed with Venomari venom.) Get me off this thing! Mommy!

Kai: Where is everybody? (They see the riders scream and run out of the attraction.)

Cole: Wait a minute, that ride was never scary.

Zane: Venomari.

Kai: Should we get Jay?

Cole: Let's not bother the two lovebirds. I think we can handle this.

Kai: Excuse us, coming through.

Cole: Nothing to look at, folks.

Zane: This is official ninja business.

(Jay still hasn't come back from the restroom and Nya is worried.)

Nya: (Sighs) Sorry, Jay. Duty calls. (She leaves the booth.)

Jay: Huh, you don't look so bad. Just go out there and tell her the truth. (He feels something on his back and turns around.) Ah! I have a tail! No, no, it's okay, Jay. Lots of girls like tails. (He goes back to their table.) She left? Nya?

Man: Snake! (Everyone surrounds him.)

Jay No! Stop! You don't understand!

(Nya gets in her Mech. Meanwhile, the Serpentine uncovers the Fangblade.)

Pythor: Ah. (Laughs) The first fangblade is ours!

(The Sword of Fire is shown igniting as Kai, Cole and Zane arrive.)

Kai: Not so fast.

Cole: Really? That's the best you got?

Kai: I couldn't think of anything on the fly.

Cole: How about "Time to burn" or "Jump on this fire ride?"

Kai: Well, next time, you lead.

Cole: Next time I will.

Kai: Oh, yeah? If you can catch up.

Cole: Oh, come on. You gotta follow my lead. (They attack the Serpentine.)

Man: Ninjas? Ninjas aren't scary.

Zane: Watch and learn, brothers. (He uses his True Potential, but accidentally freezes his teammates.) Oops.

Pythor: (Everyone laughs and runs away, but Nya uses her Mech to steal the Fangblade.) Stop him!

Nya: (tries to fly off but can't) Thruster malfunction. (She runs away but the snakes eventually tackle her.)

Pythor: Finally, the mystery man is revealed. (Everyone gasps when her helmet is taken off.) Or should I have said mystery girl? Who's gonna save you now, hmm?

(The crowd is still hitting Jay.)

Jay: Ow! (He crawls out, heads to the restroom, and conceals himself with his scarf.) Do not go in there. He bites. This is not dinner theater, people. It's real! Arm yourselves. (He runs outside.) Nya! Where is she? (He sees a group of snakes.) Hey! (The Serpentine laugh at him when they see his tail.)

Pythor: Oh, what happened? Snake bite your tongue?

Nya: (Tied on a roller coaster train) Jay! Help!

Pythor: (Signals for Bytar to turn it on) Later, alligator. Let's go, boys.

(Jay gets on the ride.)

Nya: What happened to you?

Jay: What happened to you? (He spots a ring of fire and broken tracks ahead.) Unh, we have to get you out of here.

Nya: (seeing his tail) Were you bit? Take off your head scarf.

Jay: I prefer not. I was meaning to tell you, but I didn't want it to ruin the date.

Nya: Oh, that's so sweet. Hey, you were the first in your 'Lil Scouts group to get your knot badge, right?

Jay: Yeah, about that, I made that up just so I could impress you. I was never in 'Lil Scouts.

Nya: You weren't? Hold on.

Jay: What? You have an idea?

Nya: No, hold on! (They ride down a slope and Jay's scarf comes undone.)

Jay: Aah! Don't look at me! I'm a monster. Though I hate the Samurai, where is he when you actually need him? Samurai! Help! Help! Samurai!

Nya: Jay, I don't think the Samurai is coming.

Jay: Why?

Nya: I know this might not be the best time, but I haven't been totally honest either.

Jay: What is it?

Nya: I...I'm the Samurai!

Jay: You're the Samurai!? Aah! We're running out of track.

Nya: Jay, if anything horrible were to happen, I want you to know that you don't have to wear cologne or pretend to be anything that you're not. Because I like you best when you're you. (She kisses him and he turns back to human.) Your face. You're returning back to normal.

Jay: It's just like you said. You must have raised my heart rate.

Nya: Whatever happens next, just remember, you are the best you. (Jay stands up as his Nunchucks begin to surge with more power than before.) What's happening?

Jay: My True Potential. (He turns into pure electricity and stops the train before it reaches the ring of fire.)

(The ninja meet up at the Park's entrance.)

Zane: You really had me fooled. I never guessed you were the Samurai.

Cole: I wished I had a sister like you.

Kai: Technically, I was the first to discover her secret, and didn't we agree whoever we thought was the best would naturally be the Green Ninja? Huh? The Green Ninja! The destined ninja to defeat Lord Garmadon, huh?

Jay: Why would we say that?

Cole: Yeah, I'm drawing a blank.

Zane: Nope. That conversation is not in my database.

Jay: You know what I learned today?

Nya: What's that?

Jay: No matter what kind of secret you have, whether you're a snake or a samurai, it's important to be yourself.

Cole: Yeah, that's cute, but you wanna know what I learned? The Serpentine now have the first Fangblade.

Zane: But we are getting stronger. One day, we will all reach our True Potential and Pythor will be stopped.

Jay: And we figured out all this without Sensei. Pretty good for four ninja. (Nya punches him.) And a Samurai.

Kai: I wonder what Sensei is doing now.

(Garmadon and Wu reached the base of the mountain.)

Garmadon: We're here. The Mountain of Madness.

Wu: The only way back to Ninjago is up there?

Garmadon: The worst is yet to come. (They start ascending the mountain.)

I AINT READING ALLLAAAAATTT ANON I HATE YOU.

[drpeppertummy]

[stuffing, tummyache, tummy rubs]

"Sunny, don't try to eat that whole thing."

"What? What the hell do you think I bought it for?"

"That's like eating three pounds of straight sugar!"

"Course it is, how do you think I stay so sweet?" Sunny flashed his friend a toothy smile, batting his long eyelashes. Laurie rolled her eyes.

"Don't come crying to me when you give yourself a bellyache," she said, returning her attention to her book.

"I wouldn't come crying to you if my life depended on it," Sunny retorted. He pried the packaging open with his teeth and tossed it aside, holding up his opponent: a three pound gummy worm. Laurie supposed she should just be glad he hadn't gone for the bear, which apparently was even heavier. Sunny chomped down on the worm--not on the tip, but right in the middle, as though it were an ear of corn. It was so sweet it almost made his teeth ache. With a grunt, he yanked off a rubbery bite.

Laurie was doing her best to ignore Sunny, but he was making a lot of noise. Each bite was punctuated with grunting and slurping and a small cacaphony of other unpleasant eating noises. After sitting uncomfortably through a few bites, she looked up from her book, wrinkling her nose at him in disgust.

"Can't you do this any quieter?"

"Huh?" Sunny looked up at her, mouth full of worm.

"You sound like you're trying to suck the siding off a house! If you have to eat that stupid thing right next to me, do it quietly," she said. Sunny nodded, swallowing his mouthful with a thick gulp, and returned to his worm. He took another bite, this time making an effort to be quiet, and to his credit, he did manage to cut down on the amount of noise. Laurie was a little bit impressed by this; quiet wasn't generally Sunny's strong suit. She could still hear soft sounds of struggle as he worked to pry chunks off of the worm, but she supposed she could deal with that. In fact, she would never say so, but his little vocalizations as he wrestled with his rubbery snack were almost cute.

Sunny had only gotten through a small portion of the worm, but his tummy was already beginning to ache. With the worm being as large as it was, it didn't take much of it to fill up his stomach with dense, gummy sugar. Still, he knew it would take forever to get through it if he didn't push himself a little, and by this point, it was too chewed up and sticky to share with anybody else. He took a breath and pushed on.

Laurie glanced over at Sunny again. He definitely wasn't eating with the same gusto he'd started with. Still, he looked determined. He also looked a little ill. It was hard to judge given the strange way he'd decided to go at it, but she estimated that he must've been about a third of the way through the worm. The thought of a solid pound of gummy candy sitting in his belly made her own stomach ache. She almost opened her mouth to say something when Sunny finally lowered the worm, looking tired. He sat like that for a moment, and then, to Laurie's surprise, he set the worm back down atop its packaging. He leaned back against the couch with a sickly sigh. His tummy bulged out slightly.

"You're in for it now, Sunshine," she said, reaching out and giving his belly a gentle pat. "I don't think even ginger ale can fix that." His stomach let out a sad little gurgle. Feeling sorry for him, Laurie carefully pulled Sunny into her arms, resting her hands on his achy, bloated belly. He tensed up for a moment, then allowed himself to relax.

"I thought you said not to come crying to you," he mumbled, laying his head against her shoulder.

"Well, you're not, are you?" She rubbed his belly softly.

"I guess not." He closed his eyes and tried not to think about how sick he felt. In addition to the massive onslaught of sugar, the sheer quantity of gummy worm he'd eaten was far too much for his tummy. He should've stopped when he first felt full. In fact, he never should have bought the stupid thing in the first place. Not only did Sunny feel sick, he felt foolish and guilty as well.

"You've gotta start being nicer to your poor little tummy," said Laurie, still rubbing his belly in gentle circles. It wasn't the first time she'd said it, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. Sunny knew she was right. Sometimes, however, he just couldn't help himself. He wasn't known for his good impulse control, and he had a bad habit of taking things as a challenge. He was aware of this flaw, but he couldn't seem to shake it, and he was nervously waiting for the day when his friends' sympathy would run out.

"It's hard," he said quietly. It was all he could think to say, but Laurie had a feeling she knew what he meant. Taking care not to squeeze his tummy, she hugged him. Sunny opened his eyes, surprised, and, after a moment of hesitation, returned the hug.

[illarian-rambling]

Thanks for the tag @scribble-dee-vee! Sorry it took me a sec

5 Lines Tag

My lines: a line describing liquid, a line with regret, a line with darkness, a line about food, a line with a lie

Your lines: a line describing liquid, a line with anger, a line about light, a line about a drink, a line with a half-truth

.

A line describing liquid (Tw: the liquid is blood)

However, without words, Sepo not only lacked the meticulous control of other sirens, but he lacked protection from the raw divine energy currently coursing through his throat. That storm would sure serve as a distraction, however it would put them in just as much danger as the smugglers. And Sepo...

There had been dangerous times before---deep within the twisting corridors of the Trench---when he'd been forced to call on his double-edged power. Izjik still remembered the blood; sickening clouds blossoming from his mouth. Dragging his limp form through the grasping tube worms that lined the cramped tunnels, never sure if something was tracking their scent. Lightless days upon starless nights where he lay still and pale as a corpse.

She had to hurry.

A line with regret

"We definitely will," the halawemavar said with a matching grin. "But I am sorry for real. Yeah, you could've talked to me, but it takes two to have an actual conversation and I wasn't being exactly conversational. I should've trusted you to act with a cool head and came clean. I should've trusted you to help me through all this... whatever this is."

Sepo looked to his friend. Her expression was a touch distant, as it had been since he'd woken up. Izjik might be good at reading people, but she'd always been far too honest to wear her heart anywhere other than her sleeve.

<You don't have to do this alone,> he signed. <You never did. I'm sorry if I ever made you feel that way.>

A line with darkness

Her tongue was numb. There could've been a lot of things Izjik noticed upon waking up, but damn it, her tongue was numb, and her face throbbed, and her arms wouldn't move. She felt like one big, shitty lump of pins and needles.

Now, where in the double-fuck am I?

With a groan, she forced her eyes open. It was dark---the hope-eating kind of dark found at the bottom of the sea. Izjik closed her eyes again. Not like it made much of a difference.

A line about food

From the eye of the cyclone, Twenari waved cheerfully. She was conducting a veritable symphony of pots and pans all ferried about by discs of translucent orange energy. Simmering sauces formed unruly ranks, while the rice was busy boiling over in a milky foam. Sepo started to take his boots off and was nearly struck with another spoon making its way towards something that smelled of vinegar.

In a heartbeat, all was still. Everything hung as if suspended in resin. Then, Twenari gave a little clap, and like a cloud of trained birds, three plates were dished up and flew themselves to the spotlessly set table.

A line with a lie (2, if you can spot them >:))

"Look," Tyche continued, joining him on their host's sumptuous couch---which they'd extorted from the man several days ago. "You're gonna do fine. Just play along and, hey, maybe you'll be able to take an early exit?"

"Huh?"

"Head home early, you know?" Hit the bar before the rush, get us some good seats."

"I don't get it. Weren't you just saying the other day that this needs to go off perfect?" Djek was perplexed. Tyche was always saying he needed to take a more 'active' role. Wouldn't skipping out early be the opposite of that?

Tyche sighed. "Nevermind. You're a good man, Djek. It's been an honest pleasure to be in business together."

"Yeah, you too, ya blonde bastard." Djek smiled, an amber glow of contentment filling his vision. Or maybe that was just the spirits. He smiled even wider---there was nothing quite like getting thoroughly buzzed with your best mate.

Tyche might always use words like 'business' and 'asset' around him, but he knew the two of them were friends. Why else would the gangster have taken a chance on some broke urchin well past his begging prime? Why else would she have taken him across the world with her---from faraway Vay to Nacé, the pirate capital---swindling and blackmailing with hidden grins as they went?

Well, Djek did have some skills---and a lot of folk were altogether too damn covetous of them for comfort---but Tyche had always respected Djek for himself, not for what he could do. She was probably the only one in all the world who liked him for him. Even if she had a hard time saying it.

.

Tagging @somethingclevermahogony @bumblebeebats @fortheoneswhowish @the-angriest-author @jessicagailwrites and YOU :D

[ronanceisintheair]

a post u made a bit ago reminds me of an hoh steve harrington (which, as a hoh person i have... mixed feelings abt but that's another can of worms) fic and it was the single most dumbest thing i have ever read, because the amount of victim blaming is INSANE

basically, jonathan is the cause of steve's fading hearing. not, you know, billy who damaged steve far worse or the literal russian torture. makes a ton of sense. and it essentially makes jonathan out to be an asshole who attacked steve with severe malice who hurt steve unprovoked. oh, also, apparently robin, steve's best friend, doesn't notice he's hard of hearing, but eddie does. how long has he known that guy again?

some steddies are fucking INSANE

Waking up to this ask was truly🤌 you have opened my pandora box

My fuh.king.god! the st*ddies are truly insufferable. Like I'm not here to police having fun shipping obviously but it's just become so sad and pathetic; ultimately st*ddie is just born to make st*ve this pathetic love starved character who is always the victim and has never done anything wrong...

The demonizing of Nancy for not loving Steve romantically even though like... that relationship was doomed from the start. He was not a good boyfriend. His *love* for her was not the love she needed, his *love language* was not remotely close to what she needed. He didn't try to understand Nancy's pain and trauma...anyway I digress.

The way people blame Jonathan for everything when it comes to st*ve is also LAUGHABLE at best if it weren't so pathetic and embarrassing; someone blamed Jonathan for not making sure st*ve left the party before taking home a drunk Nancy?? Someone made it seem like Jonathan needed permission from St*ve to date Nancy??? Like wtf? Please get your head from out of st*ve h*rrington ass.

Jonathan doesn't owe St*ve anything. Also Jonathan deserved to beat the absolute shit out of him. St*ve was so fragile he didn't talk to his gf instead took his friend to publicly slut Shame her THEN accused Jonathan of killing will and amongst being the absolute worst homophobic asshole. So yea he deserved to get his shit rocked.

*Nancy should've got to rock his shit too.

Like st*ve in the case of Nancy and Jonathan is only a victim of his own actions 🙄

Anyway I digress...again... sure hoh st*ve that could be fun. These kids have been through hell and hell again.

But in this case it feels...very...glamorized. obviously I haven't and WONT read the fic but it sounds not good.

Giving him a disability only for the purpose of making him this dude who needs sympathy and coddling. Or to garner a sympathy piece for him... Giving him a disability to push the played out st*ddie agenda of st*ve being this *pathetic*(people with disabilities are not pathetic and are beyond capable and competent) but this is the vibe from what you described. Like they gave st*ve hoh just to make him seem smaller??? Not because they actually wanted to write in representation or focus on how his physical trauma could affect him...

Truly insane when people use e*ddie as this "no one has ever loved St*ve wah wah and finally he's being seen"

We love exploring trauma and self loathing in writing sure sure, ofc! But my goodness if the st*ve stans haven't gone far beyond. It's like if I said give me a paragraph and they wrote an entire thesis filled with bs.

(I'm not hoh so my opinion may be not but I don't see st*ve as hoh I definitely see him more as someone with a vision impairment. But also would love to hear your other can of worms about hoh st*ve if only you wanted to share anon. Thank you for this message <3)