#i was gonna leak my state but like ill do that another day

[sweetronancer]

oh boy i cant wait for the school day to be over :3 (im not even at the school yet please let me out)

[hermesserpent-stuff]

8tssm?

Made me think of mysterio’s apprentice au. 

Spiderman breathes slowly as he rests on a rooftop. His eyes trace the city skyline as he pauses. His heartbeat is slowing down. Another fight with Goblin. Unsuccessful. Well, he was unsuccessful in that he definitely did not catch Goblin. But a little successful in that he isn't dead and his new armor weave held up against Goblin’s bombs and claws this time. He takes another breath. His mentor would want to hear from him. It is just a few bruises. 

He is just about to call Mysterio when he spots two thugs breaking into a nearby jewel store. He would take care of that first. Leaping down, he tugs up his breather and lets mist start to leak out. He lands silently and swings in after the robbers. He hears them muttering to each other.

“Where do you think they keep the extra money?”

“I know it's in the back office in a safe. Come on. I'm gettin’ the heebies. Dont want him showin’.”

“He ain't gonna show. Got other problems to think about, Id wager, given the state of things. Barely could get home from my day job yesterday cause of Rhino.”

Their conversation is wander-y and whispered and Spidey finds himself crawling after them. He lights up his eyes and claws as more mist starts to pour from his mask. He hums low and the two criminals jump and violently turn. Their eyes widen as trembling hands raise up a flashlight and a gun to point up at him. Spidey begins to speak, letting his voice echo out. 

“Music to hear, why hear’st thou music sadly?

Sweets with sweets war not, joy delights in joy.

Why lov’st thou that which thou receiv’st not gladly,

Or else receiv’st with pleasure thine annoy?”

Panicked breathing from the criminals as he whispers a threatening sonnet is music to Spidey’s ears. They start to back up as he flips slowly and starts to slide down from the ceiling on a single thread of webbing.

“Sh*t.”

One says, voice shaking like a leaf in a hurricane. They start to run and Spidey feels a wicked grin cross his face. A few shots are fired as he flings himself after them. But they are scattered and do not come very close to hitting him. He fires a bit of webbing and catches them both quickly. It does not take much to knock them out and tie them up. He presses a few buttons on his gauntlet and the police are called with an automated message of the location of the criminals. 

He swings away and returns to his mentor’s lab. 

Quentin looks up as Peter takes off his mask. 

“Oh, Peter! Good. I'm glad you’re okay! I saw some of the news. Goblin’s pretty nasty isn't he?”

His mentor stands and Peter sighs.

“Yeah. But Ill get him next time.”

“I know you will apprentice mine.”

Quentin chirps with a smile. Peter smiles back at the clear belief in Quentin’s voice.

“Yeah.”

“Now, let's give you a check-up. I want to make sure you do not have any serious injuries.”

Quentin pulls out the first aid kit and Peter sits down, soaking in the care and affection. It is nice to have someone helping him with this super-hero thing. He yawns as he slips off his armor and settles in to be checked over.

[itsnothingofinterest]

Not worries, I get it. In fact, I prefer that response anyway since you all actually explained the issues I’ve been thinking about in the the more recent chapters. At the end of the day the stakes are pretty much nonexistent and there’s definitely a lot of arbitrary nonsense happening in the hopes it’ll kept the story going. Kind of hard to take it seriously when they slapped characters like Hanzo, a guy who can shape water to his whims, on an island where it’s more than likely he got curb-stomped offscreen.

Still, the leaks we got helped stir some interest since Ochaco is finally showing that she’s been listening. Although I admit the cynic in me has me going “Don’t listen to her Toga, it’s manipulation, plain and simple! Go and and get your chicken dinner before it gets cold!” But who knows? Maybe we’ll actually get some real development rather than usual Tell don’t Show routine we’ve been getting.

(In response to this (see here for the extended version), and specifically my tags in the initial post: #I imagine you probably wanted an answer more focused on the heroes disrespect to their opponents #Just judging by your wording #But this problem feels too rooted in the writing itself for me to give that answer; sorry.)

I know right?

Like, I heard it said by a hero stan that the massive power imbalance is rectified by AFO & TomurAFO being Aizen/Madara levels of unbeatable. But I just cannot see that due to how we have seen the get beaten. Tomura got beat in Jaku by like 12 guys, and then barely escaped Star & Stripe with his life and a heavy nerf to his powers. And AFO just got pushed to the edge by just 4 heroes, 2 of whom are high-schoolers.

And that’s just what the named heroes have done, and low estimated of the total hero numbers has them make up ~5% of them. Any assumption that the heroes are in danger kind of has to assume the nameless heroes are completely irrelevant to proceedings, instead of the OP hyper-competent agents they’ve been presented as so far, and also that all the named characters suddenly have a tenth of the skill they were last seen having. Because any serious fight involving either AFO quickly reveals, while they are powerful, just how in over his head AFO is to think his remaining 5 powerful villains can take on the over-saturated hero forces of an entire country. The power ratio of this war so far is like that of a fully-armed SWAT team raiding a one-man meth lab while said man’s asleep.

Also I totally get what you mean about hoping one of the kids have finally gotten the villains’ words through their think skulls, but also cynically worried they’re just trying to manipulate them. Or maybe “manipulate” is the wrong word, but like: The few attempts made of the kids to save the villains can sometimes feel kind of self-serving; as they keep telling the villains to change while never suggesting the heroes need to change anything. Even though if the heroes win while learning nothing and convinced they were always in the right & the villains always in the wrong; another set of naturally-occurring misanthropes are just gonna form a new League in the next 20 years and plunge society back into the bad state it’s in right now.

But the heroes don’t care about any of that, or what they need to do to stop it. They’re the good guys, why would they be responsible for society’s ills? They just want the villains to surrender so they can win and everything go back to normal already.

[sirthisisa-wendys]

The General (part 9): Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

synopsis: nothing is the way it was before. there is no future; there is no past. all there is... is nothing. 

wc: 2.1k

tw: light gore

masterlist

“She’s not gonna eat; I already told you that.��� 

The sounds of Kaori and Toji fighting just outside of your door leak into your room, but you’re beyond caring. Megumi sits beside you in the sun-lit room, eyes scanning the outdoors, looking for any sign of an animal. You’re tucked underneath a warm, thick blanket, despite the temperature outside being warm enough to cause a little sweat. No, things were better this way. 

When you had come to after blacking out, Toji, Kaori, and Megumi were hovering over you, trying to figure out what to do about the General’s untimely passing. But in the two months since, no one had quite figured out how to bring you back to life. The only thing they could do is watch you slowly waste away and become a shell of your former self. 

Your parents suspect it’s because your princely husband had not sent for you since the war had ended, and you’re grieving a supposed loss. But neither Kaori nor Toji had the heart to admit that this loss wasn’t supposed. It was real. 

Your days are spent in your bed or in the garden behind the house, mind empty as Megumi attempts to watch over you and possibly even cheer you up by play-fighting with his father. But more often than not, you’re reduced to tears, and Toji fetches Kaori because he “can’t deal with crying women”. 

“My lady?” The head maid enters into your room with an orange and onigiri in her hands. “I brought you some fresh fruit from the market. Hamai sends her regards as well.” Hamai - Yuta’s sister and wife of Yuko - had also attempted to visit you, but her grief motivated her to knock on your door, and you couldn’t bear to think of Yuta or Nanami or--

“Thank you,” you croak, and she nods, handing Megumi the two onigiri. 

“Your father said you’d better eat these or he’ll never--”

“‘Feed me again’. I know,” Megumi chants monotonously and takes the rice balls from her hands. “Thank you, Kaori-san.” 

“Are you sure you don’t want any visitors?” Kaori asks for the third time. You cut your eyes to her, attempting a glare. “Hamai would love to come and--” 

“Listen, the lady said no visitors,” Toji gripes, standing in the doorway with his arms crossed. “I’ve been fighting off a ton of measly looking men who have nothing to say except ‘I’ve come to see Lady y/n’ and honestly, if you invite another person to this damn place, I’ll kill them on the spot.”

You roll away from the two people and look out of the window, remaining silent as Megumi eats his onigiri and stares at the bears and tigers in his book. Kaori and Toji retreat, restarting their squabble as soon as the door closes, leaving you to think about nothing and no one. 

_______________________________________________________________________

You’re in the garden when Megumi runs up to you, holding a light pashmina to cover your shoulders in the chill of fall. 

“Careful, you might get sick,” he warns, and you accept the article with a smile. 

“Thank you, sweet one.” The child climbs onto the bench you’re seated on, swinging his legs while you stare at the shishi-odoshi in silence. You’re suddenly reminded of the three other sweet children you left back at the camp, and before you can begin to sob out loud, your hand flies to your mouth. 

“Hey,” Toji appears from the house, hands deep in his pockets as he surveys the area. “You alright?” 

“Just fine,” you whisper, pushing back tears and grief all at once. “I just needed some peace and quiet.” 

“Yeah, gardens will give you that.” Toji stands beside the fountain and stares into the water for a moment before turning to Megumi. “There’s a frog out by the lake if you’re interested in--” Megumi hops down from the bench and disappears around the corner in a flash, abandoning you without a worry in the world. You sigh, watching him fade into the distance, and then turn to Toji, who is already staring at you with some unreadable expression. 

“What is it?” you grumble, blinking slowly. 

“Nothing, just…” Toji presses his lips together and looks sky-ward, thinking about his next words carefully. “I know you feel like everyone in the whole world can fuck off since Geto died… but have you ever considered moving on?” You tilt your head to the side, wondering if Toji really ever listened to himself talk. “I mean, yeah this shit is painful, but…” Toji rubs his neck and looks away from you and back to the fountain. “You have to move on at some point.” 

“He told me to wait for him,” you explain, wrapping the pashmina a little tighter and squinting at the shapes in the pool. “I’m going to do just that.”

“Y/n, he’s dead… what good will waiting do? Will you wait your whole life?” 

Your head snaps to Toji and you curl your lip up in disgust. 

“You’ve never loved anyone in this world but yourself and your money,” you spit, standing from your seated position so fast that Toji takes a half-step back. “I don’t imagine that you’d know what I’m talking about.” 

“That’s not true,” he retorts, frowning. “I’m trying to help you, that’s all. I’d hate to see you waste away over a man who can’t even survi--” The pashmina falls from your shoulders as your hand makes contact with his face, the echo of the slap scaring a flock of birds from the surrounding trees into the sky. 

“Speak ill of Geto again, and I’ll make sure those words are your last.” Toji doesn’t touch his bruised cheek as you stomp off, watching you retreat back into the house as he realizes that he let you slap him. 

_______________________________________________________________________

Screams haunt your sleep, fire burns the camp, and you’re running away, holding hands with the children as you dash into the forest. Geto is behind you, fighting off some unknown assailant, but you instinctively know how the dream is going to end.

You trip and fall over a root of a tree, but you yell at the children to escape. They continue running, not sparing you a second glance, but you turn around just as Geto is stabbed through the chest by a spear and falls with his back to the ground.  His head tilts back and he makes eye contact with you, blood pouring out of his mouth as he chokes:

“Wait for me.”

You shoot up in the bed and stumble out of your room through the sliding door that leads to the garden, sweat pouring down your neck and back as you sink to your knees. Your stomach heaves once, twice, depositing yellow bile into the bushes beside the house. The sun is barely up, and as you dry heave, you hear another door sliding open, Toji then Kaori tumbling out of your back door. 

“Poison,” Toji grunts, but Kaori pushes him aside before he can get to you. 

“No, she didn’t even eat anything before bed,” she states, rubbing your back with her cool hands. Your skin clams up as a breeze rolls across the garden, and you shudder violently before your teeth begin to chatter. “Toji, a blanket.” 

“Isn’t that your job?” he gripes, but walks into the house to grab a blanket anyways. When the cloth resta against your back, you feel a little better, but the feeling in your stomach won’t go away. 

“My Lady… talk to me. What’s the matter?” 

“Go,” you shake Kaori off, not wanting to repeat the events of your dream. 

“It’s probably because she didn’t eat,” Toji groans, the stairs squeaking under his weight. “I’ll get her a --” 

“Both of you. Go.” You look up at Toji, mustering your sternest look, and aiming the same expression at Kaori, who walks away from you, head hung low. 

You stay in the garden as true morning crests over the sky, lying on the bench under the bare cherry blossom tree while the skies turn into pinks and yellows, and reds. The image of Geto’s bloodied face wouldn’t depart from your memory and you feel the ache even deeper than before. The ache intensifies until it feels like all of you is just one large hole, throbbing with need and grief.

Nothing could save you. 

No one was coming back for you. 

They were all dead, and there was nothing left of the people you had grown to love and care for. 

It isn’t until your mother walks into the garden that you realize you might have missed your breakfast of an orange and water, but she comes bearing the fruit and you’re set back at ease. You wordlessly allow your mother to sit beside you, lifting your head so it rests in her lap snugly. She pats your hair gently, then inhales deeply, speaking in her normal soft tones. 

“Kaori told me you were sick last night,” she begins, and you nod as if she had asked a question and not stated a fact. “Ever since Geto Suguru died, you’ve been awfully sullen. One might think you had been with him the whole time and not at the Imperial Palace.” You glance up at your mother, and she winks at you. “Don’t worry; I won’t tell your father.” 

“How did you know?” you wonder, and she smiles, wrinkles forming at the edges of her mouth. 

“Well first, whoever the General gets to write his letters needs to brush up on their penmanship,” she laughs, then shrugs. “But it was your face the day that the General was announced dead that I saw you change. It only took me a few days to realize that you were in mourning, not upset that your prince hadn’t sent for you.” 

“Mother, I--” 

“You had every right to keep it a secret, although I wish you hadn’t. It would’ve made my interrogation of Toji much easier.” You imagine your own mother - all of five-foot-four, standing up to the massive Fushiguro with a finger to his chest - and you can’t help but chuckle. “Whatever the General did, I haven’t seen you glowing like you did when you returned since you were a little girl. I’ll have to find a way to thank him for that.” 

You choke out a deep sob, closing your eyes as you think of the lack of tribute, the lack of a funeral, the missing images of him that won’t return to your memory. 

“Though Toji takes good care of you. I haven’t seen that man slack off on his job once since after the announcement. He’s also been very helpful with your father. You know, he would ma--” 

“Lady y/n!” Kaori sprints out of the home, and you both look up to see her flustered expression, wondering what would have her so worked up this early in the morning. “There was a messenger from the Imperial Palace in the square!” she stops in front of you, panting heavily. “The Emperor… has fallen… ill.” When she catches her breath, the head maid can finally finish her statement, and she exhales deeply. “As is custom, his eldest son will be taking a tour of the country. And he’s named this village as his final stop, with your house as his resting place for the time he is here. He’ll be in the village in a fortnight.” You sit up, eyeing the maid carefully. 

Pieces of a puzzle begin to click together in your mind.

“His eldest son is Prince Naoya, correct?” 

“Yes, my lady.” As if sensing your premature plan, Kaori looks you dead in the eyes, daring you to do what she imagines you are already thinking of. 

“And you said a fortnight?” Your mother butts in, squinting her eyes.

“Yes.” 

“Fourteen days to prepare.” you whisper, lifting your head out of your mother’s lap and retreating to the house to find the eldest Fushiguro. Kaori enters behind you, grabbing your elbow before you can open his guest room door.

“What you’re thinking of is suicide,” she hisses, but you shrug. 

“What better way to rejoin Geto than to kill his murderer and then die myself?” you retort, but she slaps a hand over the gap between the wall and the door, blocking you from entering. 

“This isn’t what he would want,” Kaori pleads. “Please, think about what he said.”

“I cannot wait for a dead man, Kaori. Now, let me go.” You yank free from her grasp and enter the guest room, eyeing a lazy Toji lounging by the window. “I need your help.” 

He rolls his head around to look at you and raises a brow. “With what, my lady?” 

“I need to kill a prince in two weeks. Think you can help me with that?” 

“You mean treason?” Toji sits up, letting the book he held in his hands drop to his bed, and hums thoughtfully. “Killing a prince as revenge… putting the Imperial Court into chaos… yeah, I think I can help you with that.”

_______________________________________________________________________

TAGLIST: @kamisamaundercover @jotazinha @just4readingfics @mxhi @sammytamaki @brownskinnedgirll @keelyshayee @leanne-tamashi @vabybizzle @amaris9 @fuegy-fuegy @ambiguous-something​

[cblgblog]

Imagine Mildolyn, "Illicit Affair", Modern AU. Where Gwen's campaigning for Congress and all the meet and greets, showing up for charities for publicity, her 'cause'. At one for special needs children and their foundation she meets a very young CNA named Mildred and sort of falls head over heels in the dumbest of ways, both just love struck. Except she's campaigning to be in Congress, she's a politician, she cannot be queer and chasing after 19 year old ex-foster kids whos brothers are set to be the youngest executed on Death Row in California in decades for appalling crimes. But there she is, in hotel rooms her supporters pay for, with someone she shouldn't be with, trying to find ways to overturn cases that turned stomachs with their brutality, because a pretty girl smiled at her and called her 'ma'am' while showing her around the foundation/care home she worked at with children no one else had the time/patience to care for. Of course it goes terribly with 'dirty little secret' vibes, the breast cancer diagnosis announced on twitter before she tells Mildred in person, even if it's such a minor case ('so they say') and caught so early that it'll barely leave a scar, radiation won't be much of a deal at all. She doesn't get to tell Mildred that, she just gets to hear on Fox news about how the democrat's gonna die a horrible death and panic.

Mildred who has no patience for politicians and their fake concern, using patients as photo ops. It’s manipulative, it’s distracting to the staff, it’s awful, okay, she hates it. She is, in fact, a tad bit rude to Gwen when they meet. Gets her a death glare from Betsy Bucket, gets Gwen intrigued.

“Republican?” only half-joking.

“No.”

“Is it the suit? Should I have worn a different suit? I wanted to, but I’ve been told this one tested better.”

“The suit is fine.” It’s more than that, actually, but Mildred will not be saying that aloud, nope, uh-uh. “I don’t much care for politicians.”

“Ah, we have that in common then.”

“I doubt we have much of anything in common. Ma’am.”

And look, Gwen doesn’t usually go in for the chasing, the hard to get. She’s got enough trouble chasing votes. But this woman is so good with the kids on her ward, so patient. She’s got Disney scrubs on and as much as she’s got no time at all for Gwen, she seems to have infinite amounts for those kids. She stays with them individually, longer than any of the other staff Gwen sees, but she still manages to get a dozen things done in half as many minutes. And she’s also gorgeous, there’s that.

And Gwen has no good reason to ask her out for lunch. Honestly, none. Nothing good can come from this. Mildred asks if the citizens of California will be paying for this meal and Gwen swears that isn’t the case, no, absolutely not. Even still, Gwen doesn’t expect Mildred to say yes. She doesn’t think Mildred expected Mildred to say yes.

But she does. Tells herself it’s for Edmund, maybe this’ll be the one politician who listens, who’s willing to look past the surface facts, willing to help. Except she gets there and they don’t talk about Edmund. It’s not because Mildred doesn’t know how to bring it up, she’s made her case dozens of times. She just…they don’t talk about him, and that feels like a betrayal, but Gwen’s kind and funny and fascinating (much to Mildred’s annoyance), and she just…doesn’t feel like getting into it.

Meanwhile Trevor, Gwen’s campaign manager/law school buddy/best friend/lavender marriage soulmate, if they were in a different time, is like bitch, what’re you doing? Yes, everyone knows you’re gay as hell, but you can’t be chasing girls right now, you can’t afford to be distracted. You especially can’t afford to look distracted. And you can’t be robbing the cradle while looking distracted.

“She’s not that young.”

“Uh-huh. She wears Winnie the Pooh clothes.”

“Scrubs, those are scrubs. Scrubs aren’t clothes.”

“Uh-huh.”

“She works in a children’s ward, Trevor.”

“Uh-huh. I really wish you wouldn’t do this, but since you care nothing about me and my mental state and all the hours and hours of hard work I’ve put in for you—”

“After badgering me into hiring you over someone more qualified.”

“Hey! More qualified. I resent that. Anyway, if you insist on ruining my day, at least wear that face cream I gave you. Should make you look less like you’re robbing the cradle.”

“Go to hell.”

“And don’t do the oyster thing. Not on a first date, in the middle of the campaign.”

“It’s not a date, it’s just lunch.”

“Uh-huh.”

Gwen doesn’t do the oyster thing. Not on the first date, which neither of them acknowledge as a date, for entirely different reasons. But then there’s a second and a third, and sex, lots of sex, and it’s harder to pass off as just friendly.

And yeah, the sneaking around that Gwen hates. That Mildred says she doesn’t mind, and she actually doesn’t seem to all that much, which Gwen finds slightly concerning. Mildred’s good with secrets though, she’s good with being kept a secret. Mostly. Which again, Gwen finds concerning.

There’s pillow talk and Mildred admitting more about herself than she has to anyone, ever. Which still isn’t nearly as much as what Gwen admits, but it’s a relative thing. And still, Mildred doesn’t talk about Edmund. Gwen finds that one out on her own, stumbles across some old photos, a scrapbook of Edmund’s crimes. Gwen’s briefly concerned that Mildred is one of those people who’re deeply attracted to serial killers, but the truth is…something else.

Mildred tells her things. Some of the deeper, darker stuff, but not much, not yet. Tells her how she’s written to everyone she can think of because he’s a boy, okay? He was in an impossible situation, they both were, no one ever helped them, so Edmund decided he had to die. No one helped them before, no one helps them now. There’s anger and tears and Gwen holding her and she can’t help asking why Mildred didn’t talk to her sooner, if she’s had no problem asking for help from strangers.

“Because you aren’t,” Mildred says in a way that makes it clear she’s figuring this stuff out as she says it. “A stranger, you aren’t. You never were and I couldn’t…I didn’t want to become one to you. I didn’t want you to look at me like that.”

“Oh Mildred…”

Mildred doesn’t actually ask her to help. She doesn’t want Gwen to think that’s what it’s all been about. It was supposed to be, but it isn’t. She doesn’t ask. Gwen digs into things herself, digs into this kid who was barely double-digits when he did these things. Made all the headlines at the time, but that was over a decade ago, he’s been locked up ever since. Most of Mildred’s money goes to him, one way or another.

Gwen hides it from Trevor—the murderer, not the sex, he knew about the sex before she ever said anything—for as log as she can. But he’s always been nosy, and now he has a paid excuse to be nosy, and he nearly has an aneurysm when he hears why it is that Gwen’s suddenly digging into this case instead of kissing the babies of gay couples, like she should be.

Gwen cannot do this. Nope, absolute no. She cannot be sneaking around with the younger sister of the kid they’ve made all the documentaries about. Doesn’t matter that she’s running on a platform of prison reform, especially as it pertains to juveniles, this is not the case to start with, especially when she hasn’t won yet.

And Gwen knows. She knows. She argues with Trevor about it until he decides they both need to stop because Gwen has a speaking engagement tomorrow and she can’t sound hoarse. There are many further arguments, arguments about principles over politics, but Gwen knows he’s right. She cannot, should not, be doing any of this, at least not yet. It’s dangerous, it’s selfish, Mildred deserves better than being someone’s secret again. Gwen should break it off, at least until the election. She’s not being fair to either of them like this. They should stop, at least for a few months.

Except it’s Mildred and she’s totally hijacked Gwen’s everything, and the thought of stopping makes her ill, and everything about this is terrifying, the most terrifying thing ever.

And then there’s the checkup and the routine mammogram. Gwen started those earlier than most because somebody’s aunt on somebody’s side of the family got sick, somebody’s cousin on the other side did too.

Scratch that, there’s a new winner for most terrifying thing ever.

It’s good, they say. She started early, they caught it early, this is good, they have treatments for this. Good, they say, while Gwen damn near passes out. She’s got a campaign to finish, she can see the Too Sick to Serve headlines already. A bald look would not test well, she’s sure it wouldn’t. She talks to Trevor about that, about the campaign, until he tells her to shut the fuck up, yanks her into a crushing hug. He cries, damn him, and that makes her cry.

She’s glad he’s there.

She wishes Mildred was.

She is also relieved as hell that Mildred isn’t, that they’re on opposite sides of the state right now. No point having Mildred see her like this, having her worry. She’s got enough to worry about, enough to hurt about.

Not that Gwen isn’t planning to tell her. She is. It’s only been a few whirlwind months, but Gwen knows enough to realize that a lie of omission would be a bad, bad, bad idea where Mildred’s concerned, regardless of intention. Gwen doesn’t think of hiding it anyway, not really. Mildred deserves better then that. When and how to tell the public…that’s a completely different clusterfuck of a situation, but Mildred, Gwen just wants to tell her in person. That way Mildred can see her face when she promises it’s no big deal (hopefully without seeing how terrified she actually is), and Gwen will have all the paperwork and things she knows Mildred will want to see, and they can hold each other, and it’s just, it’s not phone call news.

Except then it’s headline news, because somehow it’s leaked. Fox News is having a field day, certain corners of the Internet are already gleefully writing her obituary, and she’s missed literally hundreds of calls by the time she gets a look at her phone. At least half of those are from Mildred. Mildred who actually sounds hysterical for the first time since Gwen’s known her, that bastard on the news with the hair, he says you’re dying, why aren’t you answering, how long have you known, please, please pick up the phone, just pick up the phone god dammit.

She’s managed to keep Mildred a secret for months. This? This doesn’t last three days before it’s everywhere. Gwen does get an I love you for the first time ever, but seeing as Mildred’s sobbing over her voicemail when it happens, the joy is somewhat muted.

[racheyace]

Sick Day (GT)

Just a small short story featuring cute fairy/human fluffiness. Enjoy :)

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

It was ten AM and Shylah was still asleep, Michael had left her alone on his pillow earlier in the morning after his failed attempts to rouse her, she was clearly exhausted and so decided to let her get her rest.

Michael had kept himself busy, tidied up their small apartment, caught up a bit on work and was just getting ready to sit down and do some painting with his mug of coffee in hand when he heard it.

If his ears weren’t already adapt to hearing the sounds of small beings it would have gone unheard, but he had gotten used to listening for the sounds of the Fae folk. A tiny cough and harsh snorts could be heard coming from his bedroom. Carefully he walked towards his room and cracked the door open to peak in at his diminutive wife sitting up on his pillow and wiping her red nose on the sleeve of her nightshirt.

She looked up at him as he quietly approached the bed and sat down in front of her. Normally the slight rocking of the immense man sitting on the bed wouldn’t affect her too much but this time she rocked uneasily and shook the dizziness from her eyes.

“Uhh I feel like complete shit” she murmured rubbing her temples before wiping more snot onto her shirt.

Without hesitation he scooped her up in his hands and brought her up to his face, he could see clearly now just how pale she was, her nose was red and her eyes bloodshot, even her gossamer wings laying still against her back seemed a little dim this morning.

“You definitely don’t look very well, are you sure your gonna be able to make it to the meeting tonight?” he asked her, voice full of concern.

“I can’t miss, we are making final plans for the winter solstice tonight, the Fae committee will be furious if I miss it” she finished off with a strong sneeze that seemed to take the wind out of her and she fell back in his palm. She buried her face in her hands and sniffled.

“I think they can either postpone or make plans without you this year, you need rest babe if you want to get better” Michael lowered her level with his chest and held her securely there as he began to walk towards the door, ready to set her up with Panadol, a hot cup of tea and lots of tissues.

“I’m fine *achoo* it’s only a couple of hours *achoo* I’ll be fine” he watched as she continued to sneeze and look bleary eyed up at him as he continued towards the kitchen.

“Your calling in sick, the elders wont appreciate you spreading your illness” the kettle was on and he raised her back up to eye level, she glared at him, crossed her arms and sniffled.

“I’m fine” she grumbled, she eyed the kettle in distaste “And I can make my own tea thank you very much” not a second later she was on her feet, she shook the dizziness from her eyes once more from standing up too fast and then leaped from his hands.

Her wings weakly flapped to keep her in the air but she was loosing altitude, she breathed heavily as she slowly descended to the floor landing on her hands and knees with tears leaking from her eyes. Shylah was always independent from the moment they met, she refused to let him simply take care of her, she could look after herself. Now, she couldn’t even fly, the essence of her independence, gone.

She felt the ground beneath her tremble as her human husband approached her, the shifting of immense fabric told her he was crouching down behind her.

She felt a warm pressure on her shoulder where his finger had reached for her to offer comfort in her clearly distraught state. A second later the rest of his fingers gently wrapped around her body and lifted her up to his chest where he held her there in a hug.

“Everyone deserves a break sometimes babe” he whispered into her hair “today, just this once, can you let me take care of you, like a husband should” the love and concern in his deep voice soothed her like a balm and she nuzzled deeper into his chest.

“Okay” she said softly, she looked up into his deep green eyes whirling with worry “just this once” she conceded.

The relief on his face was evident, carefully he stood up, he picked up her cup of lemon tea between a finger and thumb and headed for the couch. Once he got comfy, he set his wife down in his lap, she leaned back against his stomach as he held a hand over her like a blanket. He then set down a ripped-up bit of tissue beside her and handed her the teacup.

After several hours of watching particularly girly romcoms he looked down at Shylah to see she had fallen asleep curled up in his lap and held snuggly against his abdomen, he smiled softly down at her. As gently as he could, he trailed a finger through her hair, down her spine and gently over her wings, she sighed contentedly.

Michael was so engrossed by the serenity of his wife that he didn’t even notice a Fae Official had flown through the window and was currently standing on the arm of the couch looking at the scene with mild interest.

“So this is the reason Shylah missed the Winter Solstice meeting, she was getting petted by her human husband” Michael flinched in surprise at the unexpected visitor and turned to see Jonah standing right beside him on the arm of the couch with his arms crossed in front of his chest. He looked deadly serious especially in his official uniform, he waited patiently for the giant to answer.

“God, Jonah, you scared me” Michael said to which Jonah smirked in amusement, scaring a being so much larger than yourself was not usually this easy.

“Shylah is sick, she’s so weak she can barely fly” Michael explained, Jonah looked down at his sleeping friend in Michael’s lap with concern.

Jonah sighed unable to hold up the angry official façade especially with one of his closest friends so unwell “the elders will understand, this is the first time she’s ever missed a meeting” he flew down and landed a few feet away from Shylah on Michaels knee. He had been around the human long enough to know he could be trusted.

“It looks like your taking good care of her” he said after a moment, he then looked up at Michael “Um, I’ll be sure to let the elders know of her current condition. If she is well enough tomorrow tell her to come to the village, they will want to discuss the outcome of the meeting with her” and with that Jonah gave a small nod and took to the sky headed for the open window.

Michael gave a small sigh and snuggled down further into the cushions being careful not to jostle Shylah too much, he then pressed play on another random movie and let his own eyes flutter closed, content to enjoy the peacefulness around him.

[logan-please-smile-speaks]

[Long, Tw food (in depth descriptions), brief references to unnamed heavenly beings of no specified religion, brief reference to hell. Not really any angst. Just good Dadza.]

[Hurt/comfort my beloved]

Me: i can't write

Also me: writes an entire fic by accident while telling my friend about an idea I had

(I'm gonna need this ask back at some point so don't keep it too long, okay? But make sure to take care of yourself (unlike Techno sksksks))

(How many words is this) (Cenn I've been writing this for like 3-4 hours. I've been hyperfixating on this)

-@2ble

I had this really cute idea where Techno gets sick after doomsday and Dadza takes care of him (for an animatic, or? How should i draw techno?)

Phil's Dadza side kicks in. He gently pushes Techno, who is in full garb back into bed. "Techno, you're sick. You can't go."

"But I haven't streamed in 2 weeks!"

"Rest."

Techno turns on his side in bed. Dadza gently pulls the blankets up and tucks them around Techno. Techno begins to cough, and the coughs rack his body. Dadza's expression is soft and concerned. He rubs his hand on Techno's back until he stops coughing. Techno closes his eyes. He's exhausted.

Dadza takes Techno's crown and places it on the bedside table.

He observes his ill friend. Techno is nothing like what he was up until Doomsday. He seemed--weak. Vulnerable. Sick.

"Have you had anything to eat, Techno?"

Techno doesn't open his eyes. He shakes his head. "I ran out of food a few days ago. I meant to get more but..." Techno doesn't want to admit that he couldn't get downstairs. He doesn't want to admit to weakness, to vulnerability. But everytime he thought of searching through chests, of trading with the villagers, they just seemed so far away.

Phil noticed a tear leaking out from Techno's eyelid. If he brushed it away, Techno would feel worse about his state because it would mean he was in fact vulnerable.

"I'll make you some stew."

Phil goes downstairs and tends to the fireplace. The fire seemed to have gone out sometime between now and the last time Phil checked on Techno.

How long has the house been this cold?

Phil builds up the fire and puts a cauldron over it. He makes mushroom stew because he doesn't know if techno can stomach rabbit stew.

When it's ready, he ladels it into a bowl and climbs the ladder.

Hanging off the ladder by one hand, he calls out. "Techno, stew's ready."

Techno's eyes flutter open. He sees his friend holding out a bowl of food and his eyes widen.

Phil notices that Techno is sweating and the blanket strewn to the side, only covering his feet.

"Are you too hot mate?" he asks.

Techno is broiling but he can't summon the strength to take off his outer clothes. His body refuses.

He's more focused on food. He's starving, and his body uses up what little resources it has left to sweat.

Phil walks over and puts the stew on the table. The heavenly aroma fills the room.

"Let's get this coat off of you." Phil reaches around Techno and unclasps the chain on his neck. He gently pulls the coat off of Techno's arm but he's still laying on it.

"Techno," Phil says.

"Whaaat," Techno drawls.

"You got to let me get this coat off ya mate."

Techno lets out a deep groan, then turns over on his stomach so his other arm is towards Phil.

Phil reaches under techno and grasps the coat. He pulls it out from under Techno and off his arm. The sleeve turns inside out. Phil fixes the sleeve and hangs up the coat.

Techno's shirt is drenched in sweat. He rolls over and starts fidddling with the button closest to his throat, looking up at Phil.

"Here, I'll get that for you." Phil undoes the button. He can't imagine how tired techno must've been after Doomsday, that he just collapsed in bed fully clothed, not even bothering to loosen them.

At least he took off his armor. Sh-t's heavy, he thinks. Phil ignores the fact that after the adrenaline and excitement wore off, the sore and tired Technoblade probably couldn't move with it on.

Phil pulls the blanket off the bed entirely, folds it, and places it on the table next to the stew. He pulls off Techno's shoes and socks and puts them near his coat.

They were also drenched with sweat, not to mention the smell--but it doesn't bother Phil all that much. He's smelled worse. He's frowns at the imprints on Techno's legs from the socks.

Phil loosens the rest of Techno's clothes. Techno seemed to were his tightest, least comfortable, most regal outfit to Doomsday.

Lucky for them both most of that was just accesories and pins, and Phil could easily remove those.

While Phil was doing this, Techno had been lying on his back, eyes closed. Though Techno tended to be stone-faced, Phil noticed the relief on Techno's face.

"How you feelin', Techno?"

"Philzaaa,"

"Yeah?"

Techno opens his eyes halfway, just enough to see Philza and the bottom of the bed.

"Do you have water?"

Phil procures a water bucket from his bag. "Thirsty mate?"

Techno looks at the water bucket and a small smile creeps over his face.

Phil smiles at his friend. He moves to the head of the bed and looped his arm and tattered wing around Techno and sits him up.

He holds the bucket up to Techno's mouth and tips it to his lips. Techno sips gratefully as the cool liquid pours over his hot, dry mouth and down his throat, cooling him from the inside.

"You've lost quite a bit of fluid, mate."

Techno lets some of the cold water slip out the sides of his mouth and drip down his face. His skin is boiling. The water dropelts running down his skin feel like heavenly beings allowing drops of mercy to fall upon him in the pit of hell.

Techno pulls back briefly to swallow and catch his breath and Phil rights the bucket. Techno leans in again for more water.

After drinking his fill, Techno leans back and wipes his mouth with his arm.

"All done, Techno?"

Techno swings his arms up knocks the bucket out of Phil's hand, dumping it on his head. The gush of water cools Techno, drenches the bed, and spills all over the room. Phil can't help but laugh. He picks up the bucket and scoops up the water source. He puts the bucket back in his bag.

"Had enough of the water?"

"Philza--I gotta be honest with you, Philza I haven't felt this good in weeks."

Phil laughs again even louder. The two friends are now in a good mood.

"Well now your stew is probably cold too." Phil tastes it. "Actually it's a bit warm still. Not too hot, either."

Techno scoots towards the wall and leans on it. He reaches for the bowl.

"Oh, no you don't."

"Phil, I'm a grown man-pig. I can hold a bowl."

"Maybe on a good day, Techno, but three minutes ago you couldn't sit up by yourself. No offense mate, but I don't think your arms have enough stamina right now. Now come on and eat."

Phil lifts the bowl to Techno's lips and lets him sip at his own pace. He pulls it back.

"How does it taste?"

"Pretty good but could maybe use a little salt."

"Eh, you probably need electrolytes as well after sweating through your clothes and drinking all that water."

Phil put the bowl on the downstairs counter.

Phil found salt in the downstairs chest and stirred it into the cauldron.

He heard the bowl fall to the floor behind him. It fell facedown and spilt on the floor.

Phil swore quietly.

He got a new bowl and more stew from the cauldron.

"How is it?" Techno inquired.

"Try for yourself," Phil said. He smiled as he held the bowl to Techno.

Techno looked at the bowl, then up at Phil. He took a sip.

Techno pulled back and looked at the bowl.

Phil thought he may have tainted the stew somehow. "Is it bad?" he started to say.

But he didn't quite get out anything after "Is" because Techno cut him off.

"It's delicious." Techno looked up at his friend. "Philza Minecraft, you should be a chef. This is the most wonderful thing I've ever tasted."

Phil chuckled. "All I did was add salt, what ya mean?"

"Phil, you have to sell this stew to the rest of the SMP. We could get rich!"

"Techno, I think the sickness may have gotten to your head a bit."

"Phil, I've never been more serious about anything in my entire life. We could be the the most powerful people on the server!"

"We already are. We just blew up a country. Down to bedrock."

"But we could get even more rich and powerful!"

"Well I'll be happy to listen after you eat. And rest. And bathe."

"I don't need to bathe."

"You're not getting out of it. You reek, mate."

"You can't judge me by the smell!"

"I'm not worried about the smell so much as what the smell tells me about your body. I don't know when the last time you washed was but it was definitely before Doomsday and I can't have you laying in your own sweat and filth for much longer. It's sh-t for your health, Techno."

"Philza--"

"Please just eat, Techno."

Techno leaned his head forward slightly and Phil pressed the bowl to Techno's lips.

Techno closed his eyes and savored the flavors. They were so pleasant, so soothing, so comforting. They reminded him of a time when he was safe and there was no betrayal. No war. No need for violence and bloodshed and destruction.

Phil, being a good Dadza friend, made sure that Techno ate an entire bowl. He brought Techno another bowl upon his request, of which he ate half, then left the other half bowl on the table in case Techno got hungry later.

After changing Techno's bed to clean, dry sheets and tucking his friend back into bed, he went downstairs to clean up the spill. He told Techno he would be back at sunrise to check on him. Though he might come earlier just in case. Sunrise was just the latest. Phil had decided that since Techno had gotten through the brunt of his hibernation and was now waking up sick, he should check on him at least twice a day.

Phil scrubbed the dried stew off the floor. He wondered what could've made Techno love it so much. Mere salt couldn't have made it so delicious, could it?

Phil finished cleaning the floor and the bowl and put everything away. As he was about to leave, he stopped. Eyes locked on the cauldron. There was something about it.

I can't leave that there, he reasoned. It will go to waste. If Techno like it, I can't let it waste or burn. I should freeze it outside.

Phil took out a bowl and knelt in front of the fire place. He scoop up big, full ladels into his bowl. Could it be that the soup was really that much better with something as basic as salt?

Phil dipped his finger in the bowl and sucked the stew off of it. He was instantly transported to his childhood. His mind played out feelings of safety, of healing, of comfort, of rest.

He heard his family laughing, remembered learning how to fly, the first time he soared high, feeling the wind beneath his wings. He remembered when Wilbur was born, holding the tiny baby in his arms, filled with love. "I'll always protect you. I'll always be there for you." When he met Techno, when he built the bee farm, and so on.

Phil was moved to tears. He felt loved. He felt like someone loved him no matter his flaws, his mistakes. Phil cried.

It was not out of pain but rather emotion. He wiped away his tears and drank the rest of the stew in his bowl, but it only caused more tears to stream down his face.

Techno was right.

Outside, watching through the window was the one who made the soup what it was. It wasn't Phil's salt.

He stood on his hind legs, paws pressed against the wall of the house.

He had been listening to the two friends talk, had been watching protectively as the wind ruffled his thick white fur.

He was Technoblade's guardian.

Soon he would be called Steve.

2ble this is literally amazing hello????

[lokidrabbles]

Bitter-sweetness (Loki x Reader)

Loki comes to visit the reader after they send out a drunk text

A/N: Another part of my Loki x Reader Winter Series! This is also an AU after Ragnarok where the Asgardians have settled on Earth. As always, Gender Neutral Reader! Warnings: Language, Alcohol Use, Angst, Implied smut

You considered yourself to be a responsible person to a certain degree. In fact, you prided in your ability to make rational decisions about your day to day adult musings. Yet here you were, alone in your home, a whole bottle of red wine downed, complete inhibited from making sure you didn’t make a terrible decision.

This was your first holiday away from home. Living in the big apple had its perk, especially since you managed to land a job working at Stark Industries but living alone, while your closest relative lived three states away was not as glamorous as the shows made it out to be. You swore you would be able to handle it, after all, this had been quite a successful year for you career wise. And yet, the horrible emptiness expanded the moment you finished speaking with your sibling over the phone.

Reality hit. You were here alone, and that was just scratching the surface of it all. You had gotten along well with your co-workers and the supers you would run into often but it wasn’t the same. There was no way you would budge and plea for them to spend this ‘merry’ time with you, humiliating. And so, while not the healthiest of coping skills, you drowned your depression away with a little lady known as Lambrusco.

Being a lightweight, the red wine quickly put you in an inebriated state, fixated on feeling sorry for yourself and the impeccable loneliness.  You cried, you laughed, and you sang depressing melodies in effort to bring your spirits up, but to no avail. You eventually ended up surfing on social media through your phone, twisting your mouth at the cloy pictures of families and friends celebrating together in their homes. What a bunch of bullshit. You resisted the temptation to instant message your old friends, knowing it would just be filled with a myriad of cuss words.

Your mind then wandered on texting your co-workers, clinging onto a childish hope of maybe one of them coming to your rescue and joining you in drinks and sobs. You flipped through your contact list and came across your most recently added. It was a 5 digit number, but that wasn’t weird for you. Tony would often have these weirdly set up numbers for some of the team members to maintain contact without having calls traced by ill intending foes, and you ended up with some of them through exchanges and other occasions. You weren’t really sure how it worked, but it was kind of like a trading card game you had with your co-workers. Obtain Thor’s number, Caps’ number, Dr. Banner’s number, Romanov’s number. It was stupid but it passed the time.

You squinted your eyes, attempting to decipher which Avenger’s number this was. However with the room spinning and your happy-go-lucky state, you didn’t bother to figure out who it was, and you began to text the unknown number with the best of your ability.

Helloo,,,,this is (y/n) and....comeover I have fun stuff to do...:) :) :)

Perfect. And with much gusto, you tapped on that send button, throwing your phone casually on the side of your couch. It wasn’t like you really expected anyone to answer or to come over, and it wasn’t like you really cared at the moment. Without any hesitation, you reached for the wine bottled and took a last swig, with only drops remaining of the sweet warm nectar. You felt the relief in your throat and closed your eyes, slowly drifting into a quick nap, completely disheveled on your couch.

Not ten minutes would pass before you heard a loud and obnoxious pounding on your door. The loud rapping sent you flying off your couch and in a frenzy. You cleared your throat and scurried over to your front door.

“I’m going, I’m going!” You yelled, not having a moment to sort  out what was actually happening. But the room continued to spin, and you figured you were still heavily drunk.

You undid your locks and open the door wide open, only to be greeted by the cold winter wind and the last person you had expected at the moment.

“What in the seven realms are you trying to prove here?” It was Loki, standing tall and menacing over you. He held a small cellular phone between his thumb and index finger, showing you the drunk text you had sent him.

It was Loki’s number. You had completely forgotten that your coworker had given you the number after laughing about Tony giving Loki a method of communication and how Loki was entirely clueless on how to use the device or what it’s purpose even was. Your coworker had a know in with the security manager who programmed Loki’s phone and got his contact number through suggestive means. Again, part of the stupid little game, and you had mindlessly added the number onto your contacts.

Fuck. You guessed he had figured out how to use it.

“Ah, shit.” You sputtered casually. “I didn’t think anyone would have come!”

He raised an eyebrow, looking at you incredulously. “You’re wobbling.”

Wobbling. Loki’s accent was distracting enough most of the time. But hearing him say a silly world like wobbling sent you in a laughing spree. It was uncontrollable laughter, where the more you stared at him the funnier it would become. It was apparent that Loki didn’t find this funny in the slightest.

“Wobbling, pfft. Woooosh.” You retorted, making fluttering movements with your fingers.

“Wait.” He began, his mind beginning to calculate and process. And finally it hit him. “You’re drunk. Are you foolish or just this stupid?”

“Both maybe.”

Loki groaned, shoving you inside your living room and closing the door behind him. Immediately he began to smell the heavy scent of alcohol coming from you, as well as quickly taking notice of the empty wine bottle and wine juices leaked on your coffee table. Also you wouldn’t stop laughing, continuing to giggle until you fell backwards onto you couch.

Loki narrowed his eyes at you. “Having a good time here? I see you’ve laid waste to that wine bottle.”

“Oh yeah.” You responded proudly, throwing your arms up in the air. “Nothing else to do here, but to see just how much I can drink till I stop making sense. Which is...now!”

“Really now?” He responded sardonically. “You look like an absolute mess.”

“Screw you.” You dejected at him knowing full well that wouldn’t offend him in the slightest. “Why are you even here if you’re just gonna be like this.”

“Would you rather I leave then?” His arms were crossed over his chest now, long legs and feet firmly planted on the ground. He looked very intimidating, but perhaps because of your state, he also looked extremely masculine and handsome. You never noticed how broad his shoulders actually were, or how defined his jawline was. You imagined being held in those strong arms and hummed pleasantly.

“No, I like you being here.” You said in a sing song manner, swinging your head back and forth.

“Are you sure that’s not the alcohol talking for you? I wouldn’t imagine you meant to send that message directly to me.”

Loki took a seat across from you on the couch, continuing to shoot you looks of improvement, but concern as well. You continued to fixate on his looks despite this, suddenly wanting to see how his skin would feel on your hands.

“It wasn’t really meant for anyone. But I actually feel a lot better knowing it was you.” Even through your mashed up words, this was actually true. If it was Tony or a coworker or, lord forbid, anyone of the Avengers receiving this and coming over to lecture you about your substance use, your humiliation would have no bounds. There was still a sense of a professional relationship to maintain with them and if those boundaries were broken, maybe that would mean your job as well.

However, the moment you saw Loki standing at your door, you worry had instantly vanished. It was funny, but Loki was the only person who you could be yourself with. There wasn’t any authoritative nature to him, and you felt you didn’t need to prove anything while he was in your vicinity. He was just as lost as you were during this year in dealing with Stark Industries and the team. Also you both had bonded a bit with having a natural disdain for large crowds and ‘stupid’ people in general. You weren’t proud to be shit talking about others, but it made some work days bearable for you.

“Perhaps this is the moment where I as why you’ve drunk an entire bottle of red wine on your own. Even I can tell your natural tolerance isn’t very good.” Loki said, motioning for you to begin describing whatever had tormented you for this evening.

You sputtered again. “It’s stupid. I didn’t even mean to drink the whole thing. It just happened. Stupid bottle.” You really didn’t want to talk about, fearing how much control you would lose. You couldn’t put Loki in an awkward position, with you bawling over the fact that you miss your family or that you feel completely alone in such a large city. You knew Loki’s situation, you knew how much conflict he had experienced during the past year, what with settling down on Earth after Asgard was destroyed. Your human woes paled in comparison to what both him and Thor had encountered, why minimize that?

“Are you not comfortable with discussing this with me?” He asked, his voice firm. There was no malice in it but some sense of ease.

You shook your head. “I am sooo comfortable with you. I’m just not really comfortable with myself.”

“I’m not sure what you mean by that.” He continued, but you remained quiet mostly because you began to feel sick. “But I do know, even in Asgard, we drank for both our victories and for our losses.”

You pondered on this for a bit and then sniggered. “I suppose a loss for myself. Because lord knows no one wants to be around me.” Here we go. You were beginning to be dramatic once more, drowning in your melancholy. “But noooo I have a lot of friends and people who like me right? Because that’s what everyone expects right? For me to be content with everything?”

Loki remained quiet but not for a loss at words, but simply because he knew listening would be the best way to tackle this situation. His body language changed and he turned his body to face you, full attention and focus. But of course, you were far too deep in your downward spiral to have noticed.

“I’m supposed to be this independent, responsible adult who knows what they want or want to do.” You continued, your voice beginning to break. “But I still feel lost. And stupid. And wobbly.” You sniggered again, not being able to hold back to stupidity of the word.

Loki rolled his eyes. “I don’t know why humans always enjoy over complicating their own personal matters when the solution is staring them right at the face.”

You stopped giggling and furrowed your brows. “How am I over complicating things? I feel like shit because it’s been a whole year of me living in this city and I haven’t made one single valuable connection with anyone. Don’t be telling me that is an easy thing to solve.”

It was as if you had completely forgotten you were still tipsy.

“You do realize you could have just contacted me.” His words seemed to have echoed across your living room, sending a strong pang of guilt into your chest.

“What are you talking about?” You words meshed with one another, unable to articulate your frustration.

Loki pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance. “I really do have to hold your hand for everything don’t I? As long as I am here in this forsaken city working for that piece of human garbage that is Stark, you don’t have to spend your evenings alone.”

You blink in total bewilderment, not really buying into his intentions or his words. “Don’t do that. Don’t just do that because you feel sorry for my pathetic ass.”

“Are you daft?” Loki responded with an elevated voice.  “What indication of pity have I presented for you? What you need to realize is you have absolutely no reason to have this display of misery if companionship is what you seek.”

Your eyes widened as your focused in on the details of his face. Even though he had become quite angered by your stubbornness, he continued to be beautiful and ridiculously attractive to you. A strand of his dark locks fell over his face, making him even more desirable than you could have imagined. His piercing blue-green eyes were just as captivating as the last time you saw them. What would you have sacrificed for the opportunity to absolutely melt into him? To take in his scent or his heat. Maybe to even dig your face into the crook of his neck, providing you with much security.

Evidently your body began to move on its own as you leaned forwards to him, plopping yourself ungainly between his arms and his chest. Loki instinctively pulled backwards only causing you to fall further onto him until you were completely laid down upon his chest. He kept his arms slightly above you, unsure whether you’d be fine with him placing them on your back or on your waist. You sighed contently, nuzzling your face and fists into his chest. He was very warm, and you could hear the thumping of a heart deep within him.

“This...is not the best position to be in.” He said, a minute after laying there awkwardly with you.

“Heeey Loki.” You began, some mischief in your tone. “Let’s do it.”

You swore you heard him gulp heavily. “No. Especially with your inebriated state.”

You chuckled, your best attempt at being sly. “I’m sorry I didn’t think about you at first. I guess it didn’t cross my mind that you’d want to do anything with me.”

You finally felt his hands gently rest on your back, fully trusting of your total comfort with him.

“I’m going to reveal something to you but I don’t want you to tell anyone else. This is solely for your ears.” He began, piquing at you interest.

You plopped your head upwards to have a better look at him. “Oh?”

“I don’t come to New York solely for Stark. In fact, he’s become quite disdainful of me as you know. I go out of my way to come here because of you.”

An uncontrollable smile formed over your face. But again, that could have been the alcohol.

“You’re a foolish human. But...you are my foolish human. And you don’t need to be alone as long as I am here. I know how much this time of the year means for you, and I wouldn’t want to see you like this again.”

Before he could continue, you lifted your upper body to plant a much desired kiss on Loki’s lips. You didn’t care if you still reeked of cheap wine or if it was an impulse of your needs, but you deeply desired to still feel him skin on yours. You became even more eager once you felt him return your kiss, aggressively and longingly. His lips were so soft and tasteful and you pleaded mentally for him to explore your tongue with his. You pulled back briefly, your eyes watery and full of drunken bliss.

“I love you so much.” You said without much thought or meaning. You knew you didn’t fully convey those emotions yet, but the timing felt right.

He stared at you with his mouth slightly agape, his eyes also full of bliss and desire. “Don’t say that just yet. But I do too.”

The remainder of the evening was spent quietly as Loki adjusted himself to a much more comfortable position where he could fully encircle his arms around your frame. You melted into him, greedily closing your eyes and drifting away into a peaceful slumber inside his hold. You continued to be lulled by the thumping on his chest, your own matching his in full connection.

[flobro]

Omovember 2020

Day One - In a Vehicle

Kageyama x Reader

Kageyama’s PoV 

Could i get any stupider?

In the rush of Hinata, Y/n and I finishing our tests, scrambling into Tanaks sisters car and setting off immediately for Tokyo I hadnt had time to pee.

Hinata was sat in the front passenger seat as Y/n and I were in the back of the car.

To make matters even worse, i had a huge crush on Y/n and the nerves of sitting next to her were bugging my bladder even more.

I tried to keep my breathing steady because i knew that if i panicked things would only get even worse for my nerves.

I wasnt too desperate yet but the need was still there. We had only been driving for about ten minuets so i definitely couldnt ask how much longer we had to drive yet otherwise everyone would definitely know something was wrong with me.

I crossed my legs which seemed to ease the pressure a little bit and made everything a bit more bearable and i tried to focus my mind on anything but my need to pee.

I jumped slightly as Y/n tapped my shoulder five minuets later and i felt my bladder twinge slightly, making me squeeze my thighs together as descretely as i could.

‘Whats up?’ I asked Y/n, who sent me a stunning smile.

‘You look bored, you wanna listen to some music with me?’ She asked, holding out one of her earbuds to me.

I nodded and shakily grabbed the headphone, ‘Yeah, thanks.’

She just nodded, ‘No problem!’

We had to shuffle slightly closer to eachother so that the earphones could reach to both of our ears and i couldnt help but notice how my seatbelt uncomfortablely pressed down onto my bladder, making my desperation go from a 4/10 to a 7/10.

Hinata and Saeko (Tanakas sister) were chatting happily about volleyball and the tiny giant in the front seats and i was glad that they werent focused on me because then i would feel even more pressured.

Another fifteen minuets had passed and I had tried my best to get lost in Y/n’s music but now my bladder was almost at its maximum capacity and i was beginning to shuffle around a bit, squeezing my thighs together as tight as possible.

Y/n looked at me and yanked the headphone wire, making them fall out of both of our ears.

Y/n went closer to my ear and whispered, ‘Hey, are you okay? You seem uncomfortable?’

My body shivered at the feeling of her breath on my skin and it relaxed my body for a second, making a bit of urine leak out of me.

I gasped and crammed my hands onto my crotch, tensing my body up again, stopping the flow as fast as i possibly could.

Y/n’s eyes widened in realisation and i blushed a deep red, hiding my face away from her, waiting for her to tell me how disgusting and gross i am.

But she didnt...

Instead, she placed a hand comfortingly on my shoulder, her touch making my heart rate speed up even more.

‘Is there anything i can do to help you?’ She whispered to me once again, continuing to keep her voice low so Saeko and Hinata wouldnt ask questions.

I shook my head and tried to calm myself down. There was no way in hell that i was gonna show myself up in front of the girl i like by acting like a four year old.

‘N-no,’ I said, trying to act as calm as possible, ‘Im f-fine dont worry.’

She didnt look like she believed me so i slowly removed my hands from between my legs to try and prove that i wasnt as desperate as it seemed.

Bad idea.

As soon as i took my hands away, another bit of urine left me and i gasped once again, putting my hands back onto my crotch.

This time the flow was harder to control and i knew that there was a 99% chance that there would be a wet patch on my shorts.

Saeko and Hinata must have heard me gasp because their conversation stopped abruptly.

‘You okay back there?’ Sakeo asked and i felt my throat dry up.

Hinata began to turn around to look at us and Y/n and I both panicked, knowing he would see my obvious state of desperation.

Y/n suddenly unclipped her seatbelt and laid accross my lap gently, covering up my crossed legs and hiding my odd hand placement.

Her arm momentarily dug into my stomach, pressing on my overfilled bladder, forcing a two second stream of urine out of me which i painfully cut off, knowing that my boxers were almost fully soaked now.

‘How come your laid down, Y/n?’ Hinata asked her and she sighed.

‘I just feel a bit car sick,’ She said, ‘Do you know how long it will be until we get to Tokyo?’

*Slick* I thought to myself. She had somehow managed to cover up the fact i was about to pee myself AND had a good reason to ask how long it would take until we would arrive.

Hinata frowned, ‘Oh thats not good, i hope you feel better soon!’ and turned back around to look out of the front window.

‘We will arrive in half an hour but were gonna be on this stretch of road for another twenty minuets and wont see another place to stop for a while.’ Saeko said, sounding worried about Y/n.

Y/n frowned at me and sat up again, ‘Okay dont worry, im feeling a bit better after lying down but when we come across a place to stop it would be nice to be stationary for a while.’

Saeko chuckled slightly, ‘Okie dokie! Ill keep that in mind for you!’

Y/n mustve seen the tears in my eyes and my expression showing that i had completely lost hope as she placed an arm around my shoulders, hugging my side for a second before whispering, ‘Sorry i couldnt help you much. Dont stress out, we’ll find a stop for you. You’ll be okay.’

I got butterflies in my stomach from her touch but i ignored them, not wanting to focus on anything else other than holding myself in.

Y/n clipped herself back into her seat and I decided that i would have to speak up. Y/n already knew and Saeko wouldnt make fun of me. Surely i could just scare Hinata into keeping his mouth shut too.

‘C-can you drive a-any faster?’ I shakily asked, panic evident in my voice, ‘I r-really need t-the bathroom.’

Saeko immediately sped the car up, ‘Ill drive as fast as i can. We’ll reach a stop in about fifteen minuets. Can you last?’

I felt a single tear roll down my cheek, feeling pathetic and stupid, ‘I... I d-dont know!’

‘Its usually me who need to pee.’ Hinata said from his seat, making me bubble with anger.

‘S-shut up idiot! This i-isnt funny!’ I growled at him, unable to make my voice any louder.

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, putting all my energy into keeping my muscles tensed as much as i possibly could.

My eyes widened as my body began to relax itsself against my will.

‘No... NO.. NO!’ I panicked, ‘YOU N-NEED TO PULL THE C-CAR OVER!’

Saeko quickly turned the wheel and brought the car to the side of the road and i unclipped my seatbelt, threw the door open, and scrambled out of the car.

As soon as i got out i immediately crumbled onto the floor, my legs giving out underneath me as my lap began to feel warm.

Wow. I had really gone and done it hadnt i? I pissed myself in front of my senpais sister, annoying volleyball partner AND my crush. Could it have been any worse?

My shorts were completely soaked and a puddle had began to grow around me. I couldnt even bring myself to try and stop it because my body felt so weak.

No amount of embarassment would ever compare to what i was feeling in that moment. I didnt even want to begin to imagine what Saeko, Hinata and Y/n were thinking of me.

Tears rolled down my cheeks and i kept my head down so no one would be able to see my face.

It took at least a minute for my bladder to fully empty. I felt so pathetic and dumb but there was nothing i could do other than just sit there and wait for myself to be finished.

A pair of shoes came into my line of vision and i looked up slowly to see Y/n with her hand stretched out to me, offering to help me up.

I looked away from her quickly, my voice barely above a whisper, ‘You s-shouldnt touch m-me. Im a-all gross. Even m-my hands.’

She crouched down and placed a hand on my cheek, wiping away one of my tears and making me look up at her, my face even redder.

‘I dont care. Dont stress about it okay? Its a human need. There wasnt anything you could do to avoid it.’ She said in a calm and genuine voice.

I nodded and she grabbed my slightly damp hand. I glanced at her face and she want even slightly disgusted.

I stood up and Y/n kept her hand laced with mine.

We got back into the car, I was sat on a towel. Saeko said that she didnt mind and strangely Hinata hadnt even mentioned it which i was thankful for. Although everyone was being very calm and unaffected by it, i still felt mortified. 

Y/n suddenly lent over to me to whisper in my ear one last time, ‘Dont worry about it so much. Ill always have a crush on you.’

My face reddened as i looked at her, ‘I h-have a c-crush on you too.’ 

Y/n giggled, ‘I guess that makes me your girlfriend then.’

~~~~~~~~~~

hey guys !!

this was my first time writing an omofic so i hope you liked it !!!

~ flobro 

[their-destinys-writer]

Kitty Love Zine Collaboration

We’re finally able to share our pieces! This was a very special zine for me, because it was the Marichat side of the lovesquare that gave me recognition as a writer in the Miraculous Ladybug fandom. Being part of this project was basically a dream come true. So huge thank you to the @kittylovezine team for allowing me to be part of this wonderful zine.

Also, huge shoutout to @corgi-likes-chat, who made the gorgeous art that goes along with my story (check it out here) and also made stickers. And to @128andfalling for being a wonderful beta and helping me make the story come out at its best.

There’s also leftovers being sold right now, so hurry up and check here, before they run out.

A Breath of You

Any other day, Marinette would be transformed helping Chat Noir fight whatever akuma Hawkmoth sent. Unfortunately, the one day she decided to leave Tikki with Master Fu while she delivered new designs to Jagged Stone was the one day an akuma attacked Le Grand Paris.

Triton, as the aqua-controlling villain called himself, trapped Marinette and Chat Noir in the kitchen of the hotel and started to flood the room with water. 

“Don’t worry. I’ll get us outta here,” Chat Noir assured as the water reached their waists.

He started beating the ice that was holding the doors to the dinning room shut. Because controlling water was not enough, Marinette thought miserably, hoping the water now soaking her shirt would not suddenly change state.

After several wacks with his staff, Chat Noir had barely dented the thick ice.

“It’s working!”

“Is there any way to go faster?”

The boy turned to look at her with a confused frown, only to realize the water was already reaching Marinette’s chest. By instinct, he lifted her atop the nearby counter, the water now at her calves.

“Stand there while I break that.”

“What about when it reaches your head?” Marinette asked worriedly.

“I’m a superhero, remember?” With a wink, he went back to the doors and continued his labor.

“You’re not invincible, Chat,” she shot back.

But the boy didn’t respond, focusing instead on the task at hand. Only minutes had passed before the water was once again reaching Marinette’s waist and Chat Noir struggled to keep himself afloat.

“Just use Cataclysm!”

“I can’t!”

“Why?”

Instead of responding, Chat Noir took a deep breath and swam towards Marinette. He climbed the counter and placed his hands on her shoulders.

“Marinette, can you swim?”

“Why are you ask—”

“Can you swim?!”

“I-I… well, y-yeah, but why are you asking?!”

Chat Noir bit his lip. “There’s more water leaking out from the other side. If I use Cataclysm, it could drown you. I could never forgive myself if something awful happened to you.”

“But what about you?” Marinette clutched his elbows.

“I can handle it,” he assured. She wasn’t convinced.

He didn’t give her time to argue, instead swimming back to the frozen doors. The minutes passed. The water rose. Chat Noir now had to take breaks to surface for air. As for Marinette, the liquid soaked her shoulders.

With newfound concern, she called to Chat Noir.

“Almost there. I promise,” he insisted, swimming back to her.

“And what’s gonna happen once those doors burst open? Which is going to happen.”

“Not if I can help it,” he declared. The water touched Marinette’s chin, and Chat Noir placed his hand under it. “Just hold on a little longer. ”

“Please be careful,” Marinette insisted.

Chat Noir gave her an adoring grin before diving underwater. It wasn’t long before Marinette had to start swimming to keep herself afloat. She could have sworn the kitchen was filling up faster than before. And worse: Chat Noir had been under for too long.

Marinette inhaled deeply and submerged herself in the water. To her relief, the boy was still working on the doors. She could see water coming through cracks in the ice, although much quicker than she expected. Furthermore, Chat Noir didn’t seem to notice the cracks expand as more water rushed in.

Before she could warn him, the doors blew open and flew off their hinges. A large chunk of ice and wood hit Chat Noir’s forehead, knocking him unconscious.

Marinette tried to scream his name, but instead swallowed a mouthful of water. She searched frantically until her eyes landed on the staff sinking to the floor.

Pushing her feet against the wall, she dove down, reaching for the staff to use as a respirator.

After several lung-filling breaths, she took hold of Chat Noir and scanned the kitchen for another exit. It was clear going back the way they came was too dangerous. More so, Chat Noir probably didn’t have long before his unconsciousness became permanent.

Her gaze zeroed in on the large ventilation system above the stoves. Was it big enough to fit both of them? And how would she uncover the large metallic tube to swim to the outside? Would the water even lead them outside?

That was a risk she had to take. Letting go of Chat Noir, she took a deep breath and braced the baton against the wall. Pressing the button, Marinette extended it fast and long enough to hit the exhaust hood, breaking it from its place and uncovering the vents. Marinette grabbed the boy around his chest and started paddling as hard as she could, using the baton as a respirator again. While the vents fit both of them, it was still difficult to move in an area not meant for swimming.

She pushed upward although her muscles started protesting. There was no way she was letting this be their downfall, even if she currently didn’t have the power of Ladybug. Or even her kwami, for that matter. 

The fan was finally in sight. Following her instincts, Marinette extended the baton once again to break through it. The whole thing momentarily flew before landing with a heavy thud. As soon as her head broke through the water, she grabbed onto the edge, pulling herself up as best as she could while towing a second body along.

She heaved and grunted as she dragged Chat Noir out of the water and finally into oxygen filled air.

“Chat Noir?” Marinette called, but he didn’t respond. “Chat Noir?!”

She tried tapping his cheeks, but there was no reaction. Marinette placed her ear to his chest, yet his faint heartbeat only seemed to slow.

“Okay, okay,” she tried calming herself. “Think back, how many compressions was it? Wait, should I give air first since he’s not breathing? No, remember the instructions.”

Marinette threw her weight into each compression as she counted to thirty. Blocking all thoughts on the implication of her next move, she tilted Chat Noir’s head. Lifting his chin, she pinched his nose and placed her lips on his. She watched for his chest to rise with the first breath, and then gave him the second one.

Still unconscious.

Marinette continued CPR. Thirty compressions; two breaths. Nothing.

“Please, don’t do this to me!” she yelled as she repeated the cycle. “I can’t do this without you. I need my partner. My friend. My…”

She didn’t finish, instead pressing her lips against his again.

Water filled her mouth as Chat Noir coughed out the liquid in his lungs. Turning on his side, he propped himself up on an elbow, coughing aggressively.

Marinette slapped a hand to her mouth, relief washing over her. The feeling was so overwhelming tears streamed down her cheeks. As the adrenaline started to fade, only one thought remained: Chat Noir almost died.

He almost died in her arms, and she would have been powerless to do anything about it. He almost left her life forever, and she would had never gotten the chance to tell him how she truly felt about him.

Wait. How did she feel about him?

She didn’t remember feeling so scared to lose him until that moment. Not that she ever thought about it before. But now? His absence would mean no more late afternoon visits to her balcony. No more Eiffel Tower meetups. No more ill-timed jokes at which she could roll her eyes. No more roses left on her patio chair while she was out.

No more of the boy who somehow stole her heart.

“Marinette?” His soothing—although currently hoarse—voice spoke. “Why are you crying? What happened?”

The girl hugged herself, more tears rolling down her face. He opened his mouth to ask again, but Marinette didn’t let him speak, rather throwing her arms around his neck.

“You almost died!” she sobbed. “Why are you worried about me? What is it with you and worrying about other people first before yourself? You can’t just ask me why I’m crying when you almost died!”

Despite Chat Noir’s surprise, he softly returned the embrace.

“Marinette, I’m oka—”

“No!” she protested, pulling back enough to look at his face. “This is not okay. I am not okay. You are not okay. I almost lost you, and I don’t know what I would’ve done if that happened.”

Chat Noir blinked, processing what she had just said. As Marinette reflected on her own words, a feeling of embarrassment crept up. She was about to withdraw, when the superhero tenderly rested his forehead against hers.

“I’m sorry you had to rescue me,” he whispered.

Marinette’s heart thudded loudly in her ears. He was so close she could barely think straight. Not to mention how tempting it was to close the gap between them.

“J-just... try not to do it again.”

Chat Noir hummed in agreement, yet didn’t move. The pair sat quietly, afraid if they went their separate ways, they would never see each other again.

[alyseofwonderland]

WangXian Pacific Rim Bullet fic

this goes out to @timelykey and @gardenostalgic who sat there and watched me type this out in discord like some kind of mad scientist. 

Also big shout out to @ardatli who’s fic He Dreams In Kaiju Blue is the direct inspiration for much of this structure/idea

so pacific rim 

but like earlier, not the end of day but like when there were lots of domes before they try the thing with the wall

lxc and lwj are the “twin jades of Lan”

jc and wwx as the "heroes of yunmeng"

then some horrible fight happens

and like jc gets knocked out of his pilot gear

wwx pilots alone for a bit

but takes like A BRUTAL CHEST HIT

*wink wink

and like lwj is technically a pilot with his brother right

but their dome got attacked

and his brother has injuries

so rather than ground two jeagers they are like "lets see if we can make them work together"

we got a war going on. we cant just ground two fighters 

and like lwj new them in pilot school or whatever 

also they aren't naturally drift compatible but because a) lwj can contain his presence so carefully (jc cannot); b) they share a common purpose, they can make it work 

lwj is just getting through what happened to his home base    

and it turns out WWX is injured and its all "ill be there tomorrow" 

so the fighting is happening but lwj keeps seeing something out of the corner of his eye while they fight and like he knows those movements 

Like the ghost of a third pilot in the cockpit with them    

and lwj is suddenly having really vivid dreams of wwx 

he's like "well i always dream of him" 

only these are less like, his fantasy and more like having wwx in his head 

  his dreams are becoming weirdly realistic but like lets say a few of them have gone a little more sexy

and he doesnt know like that this is the actual wwx he's communing with

so they get into the jaeger for a fight and instead of his blank state when he hooks up, some that like leaks out

(because its coming from WWX)

and the fight goes... not well... and then jc like punches lwj in the middle of the loading bay all "you make me see this shit!"

but lwj like knows he didnt leak anything mentallyhe's a good boy and that's how he realizes its really wwx

and that they have to get him out

i like to think that jc doesnt have dreams of wwx because of like emotional things, right, he's too congested

or wwx tried to contact him but the tsundere got in the way of making a meaningful connection

lwj is actively searching, hoping, wanting so he's easy to connect to 

so now lwj has to like try to convince people that he knows how to save wwx

but talking isnt his strong suit

so lwj tries to maybe speak with yanli but she's VERY SAD

so he decides to do what he was born to do break rules

and nhs is like "i caught you on tape breaking into the medical ward. im in."

wen qing like "i will help as well but i never want to see him back here again. you hear me"

she's the med tech obvi

so they like take his body to a pilot thing and hook him up

and like right as they are connecting, idk the management notices what's up right like the Jins or some one 

and its like "solider you are breaking protocol"

you know that moment in stories where like the foot solider is ordered to capture the protagonist

nhs trips someone

wen qing smacks someone into a nap

and like at the final bridge right before the pilot seat JC is waiting

and there's that moment of "oh fuck we are gonna have to fight him too"

only you know he's just like "THIS BETTER FUCKING WORK BECAUSE OTHERWISE ALL OF US ARE GETTING COURT MARSHALED. EVEN IF IT DOES WORK WE ARE GETTING COURT MARSHALED"

he helps them plug wwx in

and the lwj has to do the hardest thing

openly and actively feel

chase that fucking rabbit

because at the bottom of that rabbit hole is where wwx is waiting

Rabbit leads him back to wwx

so like down the rabbit hole lwj goes of all his memories and pain but also his love for wwx and at the bottom is wwx, with that smile

the one from the stairs of koi tower

and the rest of the military is trying to break down the hatch

and we see WWX open his eyes and look up at lwj and that "you truly are hanguang-jun" line

and jc is like not only holding back soliders but actively sobbing

right up until lwj throws off his pilot helmet to kiss wwx

at which point jc goes back to eye rolls

and here is where i burrow from another piece of media the empror to mulan

like lxc being like "you were stupid, you were reckless, you got fucking courtmarshalled, but you also saved us all"

and lwj is just "no regrets"

Garden:  They didn't tho? They just brought wwx back

Me: THIS IS MY HEAD FIC!

okay lets say the fight where lwj figured out what was going on

the "three pilots in drift" moment

was a Big One not the big one but like

all other jaegars down kind of thing

Garden: Okay that works

and jc is "i refuse to pilot with either of them can i please have someone new"

big emotional moment of wwx and lwj as like new co-pilots

forehead touches happen

[dreamindolls]

Aaa so i know i haven't been active on here but its been hard to be excited to write for kny because of all the new chapter leaks every week so i think ill be starting to write for other fandoms instead ww

For now im gonna start with bnha cause ive been getting really into it lately!! Also i say im gonna do reader inserts but this ones actually with my oc cause i love the quirk i gave her and i wanna write for her really badly

Usui's Quirk: Anima

This Quirk allows her to have the ability of an animal she befriends! She can understand animals and communicate with them. She can only use up to 3 abilities at a time. Depending on her friendship with the animals depends on how long she can use her abilities for. If an animal dies of natural cause (I.e: dies of old age, sickness,etc) it can choose to give her full access to using it for any amount of time.

This has only happened once so far with her bird. She cant pick and choose what abilities the animals give her rather they choose what they want to give her. 

Her ability takes up lots of stamina and can be difficult to discover what abilities were given and control them. 

So!! Without further ado heres my oc x hawks!!! (ily hawks)

It was a pleasant evening on the rooftop of her building. Who knows how many stories high it was but definitely close to the clouds. She took a deep breath in and sighed before standing up and stretching as if getting ready to jump. As she was prepping she felt a tug on her tank top. She turned around only to find a red feather. She grabbed it only for it to struggle in her fingers before slipping away back to it's master. 

"Not going to jump I hope?" Bright red wings overtook her vision for a second as he flaunted them spreading them wide into the sky as if showing off to no one. The stray feather reattached itself. 

The girl smirked as she turned to face him. "And if I am? Will the great number two hero save me?" She pretended to swoon, sarcastically emphasizing the word great and putting a hand over her forehead as if she was going to faint, taking a step backwards closer to the edge which made Hawks reach out slightly. 

He smirked back at her making his way closer to her and the edge. "And if I stop you?" He tried to sneakily put his arm around her before noticing two distinct holes in the back of her shirt. He was about to question it but she quickly did a small spin as if dancing away from him. 

Her arms out to her sides as she spun she laughed. "Then I guess we'll just have to see if you can save me number two." She smiled softly at him before she spun again and took a step off the building and let herself fall. 

Hawks only reaction was to jump after her to catch her but as he was about to grab her, he stopped. "Do you jump off buildings for a living, for fun, or to be saved by a handsome hero?" He said that striking a pose clearly referring to himself, as he fell with her, a feather on her slowing her fall along with him. 

She had a feeling he'd put another feather on her so she picked it off as much as it tried to stay on her. "I can fly on my own so I guess it's for enjoyment." She stated simply and if he knew. And before he knew it she disappeared. He looked around before looking up and seeing she'd gone up and she had sprouted wings. It was hard to see but he could see a smirk forming on her lips as she flapped her wings and turned to fly up. That was an invitation for competition if he ever saw one and he flew to catch up to her. 

She looked down trying to see him again but suddenly he'd appeared next to her. "You'll have to be faster than that to beat me" he shrugged at her almost stating matter of factly. 

"Challenge accepted bird brain" she whispered to herself as she took off after him catching up to him and tapping his shoulder to get his attention. She mimed a yawn and stretch as she continued to fly farther and faster than him. Honestly it was a surprise how long this continued. At some point though she had a thought. 

She started to slow down little by little and her wings started to flap less and less. And of course the number two hero noticed this. "Getting tired already dove?" Dove?? What a lame nickname… I guess he really is a bird brain. 

She smiled tiredly. "Maybe just a little but doesn't mean I can't keep going Bird Boy!" She stuck her tongue out at him in a teasing manner as he stared at her entertained.

“Not a very good insult if you’re also a bird y’know.”

“Hmm~ I wonder if I am a bird though..” She tapped her chin in fake thought as her wings suddenly disappeared and started to fall again. Hawks couldn’t help but react again trying to catch her just like the first time, but this time he'd caught onto her. 

She was smiling again. Just like when she fell the first time. He cocked an eyebrow and frowned at her. "This must be fun for you huh? Do you always play heroes like this?"

"Aww you caught on to me. I guess you aren't as much of a bird brain as I thought." She smirked again. She sprouted her wings again and pushed out of this grip and made her way back to the building she started at and landed. Her wings spreading themselves one last time in almost the same fashion Hawks did when he arrived before retracted into her back. 

"What kind of Quirk do you have? I don't think I've ever seen someone hide a mutant type like that before." He stared at her back before she turned around eyeing the marks on her back and the obvious holes in her shirt, seemingly designed so she could sprout her wings. 

"Hmm… Do I tell the Number two hero my secrets or do I let him wonder forever… What to do, what to do." She pondered sarcastically as she tapped her finger on her chin. "The least I can do is introduce myself I suppose!" She laughed before pulling a card out of her pocket and handing it to him. Hawks was shocked it didn't fall out of her pocket while they flew. "The names Usui Enma. I run this building here. I have a hero license so I can freely use my quirk when I want. You should come check out my building sometime! It's quite fun in here you know!" She stated before she clicked a button on one of the pillars of the building and a hole appeared on the rooftop. 

A few birds came out from inside the building and flew around Usui and Hawks as he stared at her amazed for a second. Only a second… Ok it was more like a minute. When he finally snapped out of it he put on his usual smirk and asked her. "What do you own a zoo in here or something? An awful large building for a zoo."

Pfft– Usui burst out laughing as the birds perched themselves around the hole in the roof and looked curiously at her. "This isn't a zoo but there are animals here! They're my friends! Of course I have human friends too but animals are so much better. Come see what it is when you have a day off, this isn't the kind of place you can spend only a few minutes at!" She laughed a little bit more before signaling something to the birds which made them take off back into the building. 

Click

The hole started to close again. She saluted to him as she walked forward and plummeted into the now closed hole. 

That was…. A lot more strange than Hawks had anticipated.  He couldn't even react to what she was saying. He looked at the card again. Usui Enma… Quirk House..? What does that mean??

I guess he could find out now–

Ah. I guess not. That's Endeavor calling him for a job. Maybe another day soon he could see what this place is all about. 

[rainingincale]

I just saw your tags on the "harry was oppressed" post. Might elaborate on that when you are not tired? How Zayn was oppressed? His relationship to ot4. Other celebrities? I love your thoughts!

*cracks knuckles* buckle your seat belts folks we’re in for a wild ride here lmao.

also for context *here* is the post this anon is referring to

I think to start off i should just make a little disclaimer, everything i am going to discuss will be based in my biases probably seeing as I am also a brown British Pakistani person who is Muslim. Zayn has been someone that especially when i was younger I looked up to and was very essential in my journey of learning to love and accept myself and my culture tbh. It’s cheesy as hell but it’s true and i think this is important to know before I go into this more because like I said i am definitely biased towards him. Another thing is that I’m just going to be discussing my personal opinions and also my memory is not very good so i will probably miss out a lot of other things that happened/could be discussed. please dont take this as anything more than just. my opinion.

A thing that really opened my eyes to racism and especially the racism in the 1d fandom was the day that zayn left. I dont think thats what the post above was about btw and ill go into that but i kind of just want to talk about this. The day he left was. a severe mess. Not only because it was obviously upsetting but because of all the bs that people were spouting about a situation that absolutely no one had any context on. the statement that was released on facebook gave us nothing. literally just stated that zayn was leaving the band and the accusations and hatred people were directing towards zayn when we didnt know what actually fucking happened (and still dont might i add) was disgusting. people accusing him of being selfish and how they hated him and why he had to ruin everything. Accusing him of using mental illness as an excuse and lying about it and so much more. i had unfollow more than half of the people i followed that day. it really opened my eyes to the fact that these were all thoughts and opinions people had underneath it all and zayn was fine as long as he was part of 1d and giving people what they wanted. which was essentially being the token in the group and once he wasnt providing that anymore? people turned and people turned fast.

i think its also important to point out the flip side of it and that was zayn stans saying that 1d were nothing without 1d etc. i want to talk about why this was different from ot4 stans hating zayn. of course it wasnt nice to see or hear EVERYONE arguing with each other. i hated it so much. but i think what people failed to realise was that when it comes to situations like this you need to look deeper and think about all the nuances of the situation. zayn stans being happy about zayn leaving the band and saying 1d was going to die i did not agree with. anyone who knew me then and knows me now knows that i am a 1d stan regardless (preferably ot5 but i supported 1d until the end even as a 4some) BUT these opinions were rooted in his mistreatment in the band and the racism he was having to face as a result of being in the band etc etc i apologise for not being a person who can better describe and explain this situation but hopefully you are getting the picture. when fans were hating on zayn. with no context with nothing. that was based on racism. point blank. the amount of tweets FROM 1D FANS talking about how he was leaving to join isis and how upset fans were gonna be vulnerable and join etc etc all this deplorable bs. and he had to deal with comments like that throughout his whole time with one direction and i imagine even now. 

Another thing id like to talk about is who zayn stans at least from my point of view usually were. For me i remember when i first got into the fandom i actively made the decision that i didnt want zayn to be my favourite because i didnt want to be a stereotype and this was a point in my life when i still tried to shun and push my culture down because i was ashamed of it. it was only as i slowly saw that zayn was considered as cool and hot and everyone else liked him that i kind of understood that maybe. being brown was alright and it was something cool and that maybe i was cool. it sounds fucked up and honestly i dont even know if i want to be admitting this so adamantly but argh if it helps someone understand then maybe its worth it. (mortifying ordeal of being known eh?) anyways i noticed as i engaged more in fandom and looked for more diversity, more fans like me, majority of non white fans were also... zayn stans. and honestly it makes sense because we all tended to flock towards the closest diversity we could find it seems. im not saying that there werent white zayn stans and that the other boys didnt have non white stans but i just wanted to point out this trend. so when you also take this into account and the fact that on the day zayn left it was majorly... white stans who were criticizing zayn it puts it in perspective for you. majority of fans who still like and support zayn are also not white.

there is a lot more to do with fans but hopefully thats enough of an insight and you can understand the kind of vibes that were present during 1ds prime and what not only zayn had to go through but also as a result the racism we ended up having to deal with as well tbh.

now!!!... something i dont really like talking about lol so this will probably be short but the other boys. so as far as i can remember liams always been kind to zayn since hes left (no surprise there <3 also please correct me if im wrong), niall was kind of indifferent/didnt say anything really, and then there was louis and harry *awkward smile*. hahaha. from my memory i remember when asked about what the most difficult thing was about zayn leaving harry said ‘the paperwork’ which was *awkward smile* and he also kicked that monkey mask/pinata? i cant remember with naughty boys face on it and honestly im sure theres more but his overall reaction to zayn leaving was kind of not caring and maybe being slightly nasty which :) with louis there was the massive twitter fight which literally tears my soul in half so lets not go into that haha and honestly other things where it maybe seemed like he was upset with zayn leaving as well. honestly i am a bit in two minds about these reactions because at the end of the day we dont know what occurred behind the scenes and we probably never will as much as we can speculate or whatever. not to mention that this 10th anniversary it seems maybe everyones on good terms which, who knows really im going to try be optimistic. i think whats important to note about heir reactions is that we dont know anything about their situations but the problem was really how fans reacted tbh (btw i forgot to mention earlier this is about basically everything except for harry and the nb thing. that is inexcusable). the boys reactions were understandable but the problem is that fans of course vicariously are influenced by the boy they stan so when one of them acted a certain way of course that ended up reflecting in fandom and resulted in more racism etc. 

another thing with zayn was that there were many files leaked with like promo or whatever basically describing what kind of role the boys would take on/ their image etc. and of course all the other boys got things like bubbly/funny/charming etc and zayns descriptors? moody, mysterious, dark horse etc etc like from the inception of 1d zayn has been victim to racist stereotypes being pushed on him. and i think this is where harry comes in because of course the image pushed onto him was also extremely harmful and i definitely dont think we should not talk about that but often you'll see that... thats all that is talked about because people are uncomfortable admitting racism and talking about it. 

When i mentioned other celebrities my point was basically just that while ive only talked about zayn in one direction this... is so present among any and every fandom. 5sos, Little Mix, Fifth Harmony... any fandom you can think of, i promise you it is there. racism in fandom is a real thing and a big problem and honestly this is why i always say representation is so important. and when i say that i mean everywhere!!! because if I didnt seek out non white fans to follow then maybe i would’ve had a completely different perspective on all of this.

The thing is also that a lot of this is just stuff that we’ve been able to get our hands on and also fan analysis and theories etc. there is probably so much more to talk bout or go into or stuff we’ll never even know about. I’ve kind of had to make peace with the fact that with celebrities you just really don’t actually know anything about them.

I think i’ll end this here if there’s any more questions you have about anything feel free to ask! and again this is all just my opinion  but hopefully i’ve been able to help answer you <3 have a nice day and i hope youre hydrated!!!

[pyromania2667]

Royal Intervention

This was a request by someone for some King Rastakhan x Zul I love trolls, they’re great. You can also find this on my Ao3 account https://archiveofourown.org/works/26130199

The sun smiles upon the plateau of the Zandalari. King Rastakhan resides on his throne, reading updates from the news on his city below. Such is the life of a king, sometimes magic, but often mundane.

The political nature of his status required him to constantly deal with foreign trade and regulate his citizens properly.

The steady pace of the sluggish day is interrupted by his droll. Zul... the prophet. His speeches are like fanatical screeches, often it’s utter madness. Rastakhan is the king, and whilst he remains on the throne he knows there will be no ill fate coming to the Zandalari.

“My king!” Zul pants. breathless from racing up the steps before kneeling, “I have seen a dire future ahead, it’s another vision! Please, you must listen!”

“Relax, prophet,” Rastakhan replies, raising a hand to silence him, “I am de king, such as you know. I rule over all of Zandalar, as long as my reign lives, we are safe. Each day ya come to me wit dese ridiculous visions, none have come true yet. You’re losing your touch, Zul”

Zul remains tense as he rises to his feet, “Please, my King, this is a dire situation, you cannot ignore me dis time!”

Rastakhan raises an eyebrow as he rises from his throne, the two guards beside him exchange wary glances with each other.

“Enough, Zul” Rastakhan states through gritted teeth, “You have pestered me with ya nonsense for long enough.”

Zul recoils slightly, shrinking down before the king, “But, my king…”

“Enough!” Rastakhan shouts, “We will settle dis elsewhere, a punishment will be decided for your repeated impertinence.

Without any hesitation, Rastakhan walks toward Zul, picking him up by the waist before dragging him away from the throne.

The guards shake their head, Zul always seems to have an apparent habit of getting Rastakhan upset.

Despite Zul’s querulous rant, Rastakhan continues marching down the steps with the prophet.

It is not until Rastakhan enters through the large golden door Zul finally ceases his complaints.

“Now, now Zul…” Rastakhan states, “Dire emergency again? Dat is de third… no, FOURTH time dis month.”

“Forgive me, Rastakhan,” Zul replies meekly, his face blushing with barely held excitement, “I just cannot stop tinking about ya…”

Rastakhan smirks, “Well, ya caught me at a slow day, perhaps we could share de entire afternoon togetha…”

Zul’s eyes light up with excitement, “Really? It’s been so long, I neva thought I’d have de chance ta spend de entire day wit ya…”

Rastakhan nods, “Anyting for my favorite council member… I’m surprised you haven’t foretold dis today...”

Zul blushes, his ashen face deepening into a crimson hue.

Rastakhan gives him a smug grin as he brings his arms up to his crown, setting it on the golden drawer containing his clothes. With the crown discarded, he allows his arms to remain at the back of his head. Zul follows his lead, taking off a handful of his accessories.

“Come on, Zul, we got all day, betta make de most of it…”

Zul eagerly approaches Rastakhan, allowing his hands to explore every inch of Rastakhan’s body. Zul brings his hand up to the sharp, knife-like osteoderms on Rastakhan’s hips.

“Ya always seem ta love my hips, don’tcha, Zul?”

Zul nods eagerly, “You truly are magnificent, my king…”

Rastakhan grins, “Good, dere’s still plenty of me left ta worship.”

Zul looks up at Rastakhan, “Remember how I said one day I’d cut off ma tusks so that I can finally get my tongue all ova ya?”

Rastakhan snickers softly, “Den de council will know dat we’re up ta something.”

Zul gives a pensive sigh before nodding, “Still, I just can’t get over you sometimes…”

“Good,” Rastakhan replies, pressing more of himself onto Zul’s eager hands, “Cause you’re far from finished…”

Zul gives him an ardent glance, “Can I undress ya dis time?” Rastakhan gives a contented smile before nodding, “Of course.”

With shaky hands, Zul begins to undo the golden clasp around Rastakhan’s torso, helping him out of the armor until his glorious torso is on full display.

Zul takes a deep breath as he continues admiring Rastakhan’s firm abs, running his finger along the creases of the king’s perfect physique, “When was de last time I touched ya like dis, Rastakhan?”

“Too long…”

Zul reaches both of his hands up, rubbing the side of Rastakhan’s chiseled torso, admiring the feeling of his fingers along his strapping back before dragging his hands up to his firm pectorals.

Rastakhan stands tall, puffing his chest out slightly for Zul, eager to let his favorite prophet revel in the sensation of his toned body.

“Mmm, yeah…” Rastakhan moans, “Right dere, keep it up Zul…”

With an overeager nod, Zul brings his head up, placing the side of his face against Rastakhan’s chest. He brings a finger up to Rastakhan’s areola, gently tweaking at him as he presses himself even tighter against the king.

His ministrations coax a low moan from the king, “Keep dis up and I’ll just have ta take ya right now, won’t I?”

With a heavy sigh, Zul pulls back slightly, wanting to toy around with Rastakhan’s body for a moment longer.

He reaches up, barely able to touch Rastakhan’s neck. Rastakhan brings his arms down, pulling Zul closer to him as the prophet reflexively wraps his legs around his king. Now at a more advantageous position, Zul continues to grope and fondle Rastakhan’s muscular traps, admiring the shape of his broad shoulders as his hands roam further down.

Rastakhan gives a gentle growl of appreciation, enjoying every moment of Zul’s ministrations. Zul spends a moment admiring the shape of Rastakhan’s firm arms, allowing himself to eagerly stroke at his thick biceps and triceps.

“Mmm, what a strong king I have…” Zul mutters

“De better ta protect you with, Zul,” Rastakhan replies.

Rastakhan brings an arm up while his other arm tightens around Zul’s underside. He flexes his impressive physique for the prophet, “Yeah, nearly 200 years and I still go it, right?”

Zul nods eagerly as he admires his form, “It’s as if you’re only getting stronger…”

Rastakhan gives a cocky smirk, “Such is true, I’m sure you know as a prophet I’m only gonna get stronger.”

He brings his arm down to the underside of Zul’s chin, “And you’ll be here by my side… always…”

Zul gives Rastakhan a pleading glance as the king slowly leans forward, carefully navigating both of their tusks as he plans a firm kiss on the smaller troll’s lips.

Zul gives a weary sigh, reveling in the assertive presence Rastakhan has over him. After a moment of indulging in the passionate embrace, Rastakhan pulls back, as small beads of saliva drip from Zul’s mouth from the intense kiss.

“Mmm, I tink it’s about time we finally get to business, shall we?”

Zul responds with an eager nod, “Yes, my king, please…”

Rastakhan sets Zul down on the ground, his erection nearly pushing aside his loincloth.

“Betta open up ya gift, who knows how long until you can get one like dis again.”

With eager motions, Zul grips the hem of Rastakhan’s loincloth, desperately pulling it down until every inch of his manhood is unveiled. Zul reflexively leans in, enjoying the subtle scent of the king.

“I can’t remember de last time I could just bask in your radiance…”

“I always love it when you do…but now it’s my turn to have fun,” Rastakhan replies with a smirk.

He brings his massive hands down, helping Zul out of the remains of his garments. Rastakhan slowly removes each article of clothing one by one, making sure to allow his hands to roam around the slender troll’s physique.

 With each second Rastakhan graces his ashen skin Zul can’t help but quiver in anticipation, eager for more of his king’s touch. He can feel his erection press up within his loins, eager to be released.

Rastakhan brings a hand down, slipping Zul’s undergarments off, leaving him completely naked.

“Mmm, someone’s excited,” Rastakhan mocks.

“Please…” Zul begs, “Please, I can’t take dis anymore, I just want t’ be wit ya.”

Rastakhan replies with a smirk, “Den I’ll be sure ta give ya exactly what ya want…”

Without a moment of hesitation, Rastakhan drags Zul onto the ornate bed, setting aside the pillows and comforter until Zul is safely nestled underneath his tremendous body.

Bringing Zul’s arms up above his head, Rastakhan keeps the prophet trapped beneath him. His erection pokes outward, nearly twice as large as Zul’s. With a soft grunt, he bucks slightly against Zul, frotting his shaft against the smaller troll’s.

Zul whimpers with need, wrapping his legs around Rastakhan’s thick waist.

Rastkhan gives a domineering growl, “Mmm, go on, beg for ya majesty. I won’t give ya what ya want until I know you’re ready.”

“Please… Rasta…” Zul begs, his breathing staggered by Rastakhan’s repeated grinding against him.

“My king, my savior, I want you… I need ya now more dan ever… Please save me from my needs. Give me your royal gift…”

Rastakhan gives a low growl, “Hmmm, betta… But I know you got more in ya.”

“Rastakhan…” Zul pleads, “You’re my only hope, I cannot see a future without ya. I need you inside me!”

Rastakhan gives a coy smirk, bringing his hand down to align his pre-leaking erection with the entrance of Zul’s backdoor.

He slowly drives his massive girth into Zul’s rear, forcing the smaller troll to grunt with need.

“Hmm, we’ve done dis how many times? And ya still be too small for ya majesty…”

Zul whimpers softly as he clutches his hands onto the sheets beneath him, desperate for Rastakhan to give him more love.

“Looks like I’m really gonna have ta give it to ya, Zul. You’re all mine now.”

Without any further warning, Rastakhan gives an aggressive buck against Zul, causing him to howl with pleasure as his hole is completely stuffed by every last inch of Rastakhan’s girth.

With desperate panting, Zul clenches his grip around Rastakhan, taking a moment to get used to him.

Slowly Rastakhan begins pumping in and out of the small prophet, keeping a steady rhythm despite the rough entry.

“Rastakhan…” Zul whimpers with a shaky voice…

Rastakhan shushes Zul softly with a single finger, “Dat’s a good boy, just let your king give you de treatment ya deserve…”

Zul’s entire body continues to shiver in ecstasy, he brings an arm up to gently grope at his pectorals, desperate to get the most out of the situation.

Rastakhan smirks as he one hand clutches tighter around his waist while the other slides down his body until it reaches Zul’s throbbing erection. Gripping it gently, Rastakhan slowly jerks off the eager prophet.

It doesn’t take long, and with a howl of pure bliss Zul reaches his climax, jetting several ropes of his seed over Rastakhan’s hand.

“Mmm, already?” Rastakhan smirks, “Ya betta hold on tight, I’ve barely even begun…”

Zul desperately reaches outward, attempting to stroke any part of Rastakhan’s chiseled body he can manage.

Rastakhan leans down, gripping both of Zul’s wrists, bringing them above his head and pinning him beneath his weight once more. Minding the prophet’s tusks, Rastakhan carefully brings his face in to plant another kiss on him.

Zul moans into the embrace, submitting completely to his king. He is unsure how long he’s spent being bred by his king, the only thing he’s aware of now is the dull bliss of being nailed by the bulky troll.

Eventually, he can feel Rastakhan’s kiss grow desperate, his bucking is losing its steady rhythm and he can feel his king’s breathing become frantic.

The throbbing girth inside him pulsates with greater intensity, Zul cries out once more, his girth leaking out more cum onto himself.

“Are ya… Ready… For a king’s gift..?” Rastakhan pants.

“More dan ever, Rastakhan…” Zul replies with shaky breaths.

With a loud howl, Rastakhan cries out, hilting every last inch into Zul’s rear.

With a deep moan, Rastakhan finally cums, depositing every ounce of cum he possibly can into Zul.

Zul gasps slightly as he can feel wave after wave of warm seed shoot inside him, filling him well beyond his limits. He cannot wish to hold it all, and despite Rastakhan doing his best to plug him completely, it continues to leak out of him. His stomach distends slightly from the intense load he’s received.

Rastakhan falls over, pulling Zul on top of him. The bed is quickly painted white by Rastakhan’s orgasm leaking out of Zul.

“Mmm, I hope dat’s whatcha wanted, Zul…” Rastakhan moans softly, holding the prophet closely to him.

Zul can only respond with a satisfied moan, nodding in assurance.

“Good, cause I still have a lot more ta go today, I hope you’re ready… My favorite prophet is going to have a day to remember.”

Zul gulps softly, mentally bracing himself for yet another round.

[hardyimagines]

A Friend

Drabble!

———

It was a particularly cold night in April. The sun was long gone and the grass was coated in a thin layer of moisture from the sprinkles of rain that had fallen earlier in the day. People strolled through the fog unbothered. Men wore tophats and women cradled umbrellas as they walked arm in arm along the pavement. All day long, that was the view. Couples going for strolls, sharing sweet kisses, cradling one another delicately. You were forced to lounge on the wooden swing that sat three people.

The coat your wore was black and large. The material fell down to the backs of your calves. It was heavy, so it kept you warm. Beside you, your boyfriend, Evan, sat. His green eyes trailed along the romantically involved humans and anytime he watched one of them kiss, it reminded him to show you some affection — especially in his drunken state. Today, the pair of you had gone over to one of his long-term friend’s houses. Alfie Solomons. There was a leak back at your own home, a toxic one that was sure to make one or both of you deathly ill. Alfie had been very kind in offering you both the guest bedroom. Shivering visibly beneath the wind that whipped around the three of you, you casted a sideway glance toward the men to see if either of them looked as cold as you did. They didn’t.

Alfie was sat at the far end of the bench. His legs were spread wide, boots shuffling quietly, but audibly against the floorboards. His dog, Cyril, was sat between his legs on the floor, tongue flapping out of his mouth as he panted happily. Alfie moved his hand along the pup’s head, lazily caressing his warm fur with the hand that didn’t cradle his cigar. He looked toward you when he felt your gaze lingering, but he didn’t say anything because he didn’t want Evan getting all riled up over eye contact. Your eyes dropped to your feet, gaze glued to the socks that embraced your cold toes.

“Alright, boys. I think I’m going to go lay down, mh? It’s freezing.” Your fingertips curled around the chain on the seat to lug yourself up, but as soon as you did, Evan gripped your arm and drew you back down. Alfie straightened at the agression in the touch. His foot nudged the bottle of alcohol beneath the seat, guiding it away from the man. If he was going to behave in such a hostile manner so early on, he wasn’t getting anymore liquor.

“Where’s my kiss?” He slurred out. His breath made you feel like you’d just walked into Alfie’s workplace. Despite his strong stench and alcohol-laced breath, you gave him a quick, soft kiss to silence him and ease his grip. You just wanted to climb into bed and get away from the drunken man. He was always rough with you when his head started getting foggy. The chair began to swing beneath the constant movements, so Alfie dug his heels into the floor more securely to stop the movements. His hand moved to Evan’s arm.

“Ease up, mate. Let her go to bed.” Alfie’s eyes flickered up to your own. “Lay on the sofa, yeah, it’s fucking cold upstairs, right, so you don’t wanna be up there, pet, all on your own.” Behind his blue eyes, you saw a protective tint glazed over his orbs. Studying him momentarily, you offered a short nod of thanks before prying yourself out of your boyfriend’s secure grip. Gripping the thin blanket that now laid on the floor due to your standing, you hoisted the cloth up and wrapped it around your shoulders. Stepping around your boyfriends knees, your palm lowered in order to graze Cyril’s head. The tips of your fingers skimmed Alfie’s, already planted on the pup. The touch was hardly visible, but Alfie had felt the warmth from your hand seeping into his own. He watched you go, blue eyes twinkling beneath the moon’s glow. When you vanished inside, swallowed by the warmth that Alfie’s home offered, your worn body wasted no time at all before collapsing on to the cushions. Alfie looked toward Evan, studying the way that the bloke gazed out at the city and its people.

Evan tipped his head back and let a heavy sigh leave his lips. His palms pressed to his knees, sinking into them momentarily before he stood on shaky legs. “Need to piss.” He uttered gruffly to the man at his side. “Won’t be long, but I know the lass’ll be ready for sleep soon, so I can’t stay out much later.” Alfie couldn’t tell if the man was honestly concerned about how tired you were or if he was just trying to get you alone. Either way, he tongued his cheek and offered a response.

“She can sleep on the sofa, mate. Not a fucking problem, right, you can have the bed for the night. She, yeah, is probably passed out and there’s no sense in waking her.” His eyes didn’t meet his friend’s, they merely remained on the fog that floated by. He stood alongside the man, fingers hooking around the neck of the bottle as he clicked his tongue and ushered for the pup to go inside. He piled in afterward and Evan was right behind him.

“She can’t sleep alone.” He uttered hoarsely, a harsh whisper drowning in disappointment. “She gets horrid nightmares. Most annoying thing, really, but..” Evan shrugged his shoulders before lowering his voice when the pair of them passed by the sofa. He didn’t want you to overhear them. Majority of the time he did get annoyed, but he wouldn’t leave you. One, you were younger, so that was nice. Two, you were good in bed, very willing to do whatever he asked. Three, at this point.. he didn’t know if he truly cared for you and needed you or if he just didn’t want anybody else to have you. He figured it was the latter as he made his way toward the kitchen. He pondered ending things, but he didn’t want to see you happy with someone else, and why leave such an easy girl. He’d wait until he met someone new.

Alfie pointed toward the door in the corner. It was propped open, dark inside because it wasn’t in use. Evan smirked before shooting a wink of thanks at Alfie’s reminder before he moved into the bathroom. Alfie licked his lips before dumping the beer in his hand into the sink. He rubbed his hands off on his shirt before slipping out of the kitchen and moving into the main room. “Y/N?” He spoke quietly, so softly because he didn’t want to wake you. Your hum of response was just a soft, a shy response. You lifted your head from the cushion and peered at the man in the doorway. Sleepily rubbing your eyes, you waited patiently for him to speak again. “You’re alright, yeah? Don’t need anything?” He squinted. “I mean.. you know, right. Hes fucking drunk, pet, and I’ve seen how he gets..” There was a brief pause. A gap of silence so he could give you the chance to speak up but you remained quiet. “What I’m saying, yeah, is you can have my fucking room if you need it for tonight.. I can take the sofa.” You shifted slowly, brows drawing together evidently. Sitting up further so you could see Alfie completely, your arms crossed over your chest.

“You’re not serious?” You let out a soft giggle. “Alfie, Evan would never let me sleep on my own. I’ve tried. I need space from him sometimes, but he’s so persistent. I’m hoping he’ll think I’m asleep and just leave me in here, but.. it’s doubtful.” You mumbled, lazily playing with the loose, fuzzy pieces that were attached to the blanket laid over your lap.

Alfie was quiet for a long while, face scrunched up in an intent listening face and then it morphed into one of consideration. He twisted around at the sound of the toilet flushing. “Lay down.” He uttered gruffly, quickly, almost too softly. You obeyed as he vanished from the room and re-took his place by the counter in the kitchen. The bearded man moved to the fridge and tugged the heavy thing open. Busying himself with rummaging through the contents pointlessly, he gripped bottle after bottle and container after container to give off the impression that he was looking for something to eat or drink — he was really just trying to hide the fact that he was trying to stick around and make sure Evan left you alone for a while.

The door opened and Evan made his way back into the room. His hand was jammed down the front of his trousers as he stuffed his shirt back into the waistband, tucking it in once more. Alfie licked his lips slowly before lifting his fingers to his facial hair so he could tug at the strands lazily.

“Right, mate, you’re off to bed then, yeah?” He looked briefly toward the porch. “Not much else to look at tonight, street lights don’t do their fucking job around these parts.” He chortled before laying his hand on the bloke’s shoulder. Evan had always been such a good pal of Alfie’s, but he didn’t know how to treat a woman. It made Alfie sick to see the different person that the alcoholic became under the influence, but there was nothing anyone could do to stop him. He was addicted to the foggy feeling and addicted to the confidence and power it brought along with it.

“Yeah, just gonna grab the girl and head up to bed.” He shuffled his feet, narrowing his eyes toward the sole of his shoe when it gripped the floor beneath him. He cringed, angling his foot so he could see the underside and inspect what sticky substance had attached itself to his boot.

“Mate, I just checked on her. Like I said, she’s out like a light. Doesn’t take too much time at all, yeah, when you go from sitting outside in that cold fucking air to lying under a warm blanket.” Alfie let out a breath of amusement. “I’ve fallen asleep too many fucking times to count on that sofa, yeah, it’s comfortable, she’s alright.” He ushered toward the steps. “I’ll be up a while longer, if she has a nightmare, I’ll send her your way. Promise.” The crossed fingers at Alfie’s hip went by unnoticed by his mate.

Evan wasn’t in the mood for disagreeing. Truth be told, he felt rather drained as well so he didn’t bother trying to fight Alfie about where you slept. It was one night. Evan undid the fastenings on his shirt before waving over his shoulder in order to bid his mate goodnight. The wave was half-hearted, drunk, lazy. He vanished from the room and passed directly by the couch without so much as a glance in your direction.

The hollow sound of his footsteps filled the house as he climbed the stairs. His movements were sluggish, loud, and accompanied by his unnecessary grunts of exhaustion. Alfie waited until he heard the sound of the upstairs door to slam shut before he made his way back out on to the porch so he could clean up the empty glass bottles and straighten up the kitchen.

You rolled around momentarily on the sofa, watching as Alfie crossed through the living room at least three times. He seemed to think you’d actually gone to sleep because everytime he opened the screen door, he’d grimace if it creaked. You slowly lifted yourself up, blanket locked around your shoulders as you made your way into the kitchen.

“Alfie?” Your soft voice held its quiet volume so you didn’t startle the man. He tensed in the slightest, but apart from that, there was no evidence of frightening him. Alfie looked over his shoulder toward you before lifting a slow brow. He studied you, blue eyes roaming your features at you came to a stop by the table. “Whatre you doing?”

“Being loud, evidently.” He folded his broad arms over his chest, muscles rippling beneath the white shirt he wore. “Did I wake you?”

Your lips rugged upwards in the slightest. “No.. I was pretending to be asleep, remember?” You fixed the blanket that was locked around you, dragging it around your shoulders more securely before you lowered yourself down into a seated position at the square-shaped table. The wood was smooth beneath your fingertips. “What are you still doing up?” Alfie smiled at your want to continue a conversation. You really could’ve gone to sleep.

“Not much of a good night’s sleep kind of bloke, pet, I toss and turn all night and don’t fall asleep till it’s time for me to get up and head to work. Fucking exhausting, it is.” He grumbled. His footsteps shook the table as he approached, large hand curling around one of the chairs so he could drag it out and lower himself down on the thing.

“Well, I’ll keep you company until I fall asleep.” You offered softly. “Feel like I can’t talk to you much when Evan’s awake. He gets jealous when I even look at you.” Your eyes dropped to your fingers, staring at them as you lazily rubbed your digits together, distracting yourself from ogling the man across from you.

“That’s every bloke though, innit. He’s just a sore fucking sport, right.” He murmured. His elbow planted down firmly on the table, palm pressing against his cheek firmly as he inspected you.

“No, I think you’re threatening to him. He only ever acts defensive and possessive around you.. drunk Evan, that’s the ‘constantly tugging and shoving’ man that’s jealous of anything that moves.” You laid your arms out on the table, folding them as you laid your head down. “It’s so tiring. I don’t know how much more of this relationship I can take. He didn’t use to be like this.” Alfie let out a low grumble, a sound of distaste. He didn’t know how to advise you — and he didn’t know what the right thing to suggest to do would be. He adjusted the chain that embraced his neck before lowering his hands to his spectacles so he could fiddle with the glasses.

“Pet,” He let out a hoarse grunt before licking his lips and laying his hands out flat on the table. “You, right, are a very beautiful girl, yeah, you are.” He shifted in his seat. “You don’t have to waste time with a bloke that isn’t treating you right, now do you?” His blue eyes scanned your features when your lifted your head to study him. “No, you don’t. Right, if you’re unhappy, then he’s just shit out of luck. He’s done something wrong then, hasn’t he, right, if you’re feeling a bit unsatisfied.”

The man slumped back in the chair before setting his hands on his stomach and stretching so his lungs expanded. Neither of you knew what to say then, so instead you looked at the table, counting the stains that seemed permanently engraved in the surface.

“It’s hard..” You finally spoke after what seemed like ages and ages of silence. “how can someone mean so much to you and then all of a sudden.. they’re just someone you don’t know anymore.” You looked to the ceiling. “I’d leave him if I didn’t think he’d throw a fit. He’d come after me, Alfie, you and I both know that.”

The man rose from his seat then. He stepped around the table and made his way over to the cabinet so he could pull out a bottle of rum. It was the last thing he had at the house and he figured it was better than nothing.

“Right, I won’t lie to you, now, Y/n, I’m not good at all this relationship stuff, am I. I’m never in one, so I clearly have no idea what I’m talking about, pet, but all I can say is that if you’re not fucking happy, you shouldn’t fucking be with someone.” He set the bottle down in the center of the table. “I noticed you don’t ever drink around him, pet, but if you want something to calm you, you can have some of this.” You studied the tall, brown bottle, ears twitching at the sound of the liquid sloshing around inside. “And, pet,” Your eyes lifted back to his. “I’d never fucking let him hurt you.” His words were soft, almost inaudible. You could’ve very well conjured up any sort of sentence when he spoke. You didn’t think you’d heard him right so instead of responding, you sent him a slow smile.

He twisted the lid off the bottle before lowering himself back down and into the chair. “Do you want me to pour you a glass?” He offered quietly.

You drew your bottom lip in before letting out a quiet sigh. “I don’t know.” You told him shakily. “Alcohol and I, we don’t get along.” You pulled your lips in for a second before releasing them with a soft pop. “I think I’m going to go lay down..” You whispered before standing slowly. He ogled you, lid making its way back on to the top of the bottle that resided on the table still. You stepped around the table, small hand finding his large shoulder. “But I do have a question.”

He let out a soft hum, an alert sound which urged you to continue.

“If I were to ever leave Evan,” Alfie held his breath. “would you still invite me around to see you?” Your question wasn’t necessary for he was positive that you knew the answer. His eyes held a charming tint to them as he bobbed his head.

“I consider you just as much a mate of mine, if not more so, as he is.” Alfie’s eyes moved between your colored orbs. The stars outside were nothing in comparison to yours. You leaned in, small hand brushing from his shoulder up to the base of his neck. He held his breath, cheek already tingling before you pressed your lips against his warm skin. His lips curved upwards fully, remaining like that before he shut his eyes and turned his head to face your own. The space between the pair of you was nonexistent and he swore your mouth had touched his own. You didn’t pull back, you stayed like that, brows creased and lips hovering. You wanted to kiss him, there was no question there, but what it would do to your relationship if you did was what made you hesitate.

Alfie tilted his head, effectively eliminating some more of the space. Your lips were practically touching, a hair of a kiss.

“You deserve the world, Mr. Solomons.” You whispered breathily. “Don’t stop until you find someone willing to give it to you.” Alfie’s eyes drooped in the slightest. He should’ve been the one saying that to you. He wanted to whisper out that he very well thought that you could fill that position, but flirting with a girl who’d just confided in him — and told him she was pondering dumping his mate, well it didn’t seem right.

But was kissing her okay?

He couldn’t stop you even if he’d wanted to. The pair of you were just teasing one another. The second you’d kissed his cheek, you’d both known a kiss on the lips was inevitable. All alone in a dark kitchen with nothing but a bottle of liquor and the moonlight. The topic of the night was an alcoholic boyfriend and who better to soothe you than the big gangster who said boyfriend was worried about you falling for. Your lips grazed his hesitantly, a touch that neither you, nor he, could’ve imagined feeling so good. Neither of you placed your hands on the other. You were leant against the table and he had his hands a few inches from your own. The kiss was delicate, lazy, a graze that turned into a very agonizingly slow liplock. You’d felt his tongue, curious to know what yours tasted like, but before he could venture too far, you broke the physical contact and distanced from him.

“Goodnight, Mr. Solomons.” Your voice floated throughout the room. Your tone teased him, it told him that you had every intention of furthering the actions that had just taken place. When, he didn’t know. He watched the swish of the blanket you held on your shoulders as you vanished from the room, leaving him to bask alone in the silence. He shut his eyes and let out a breathy sigh. The twinge in his heart told him that he yearned for more of your sweet-tasting lips, stained and imprinted in the front of his mind now — but he told himself that wasnt smart. You were taken, for how long he didn’t know, but you weren’t single. And you most certainly weren’t his. Not yet, anyway. He swallowed down the urge to follow after you and instead whispered a lonely goodnight to the empty kitchen he was left in.

———————————————————————

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[drpsyche]

A Man, A Sword, and A Grill

My entry into the Webcomic Review’s writing contest.

My name is Bill, I like to grill. I work as a trucker, transporting goods all across the 43 States of America; naturally I keep a barbecue grill in the back of my cab. I’ve grilled a lot things over my life time: steak flank, salmon, chicken gizzards, portobello mushrooms, and various cuts of sirloin. In many ways, grilling is how the world makes sense to me. Gives me a purpose; a goal to strive for. There’s a lot of moving parts to a good meal: how much you tenderize the meet, how hot the grill is, what the marinade is, how long the meat is soaked, how much attention you gave it on the fire. Slip up and your meat is too bland, or cooked unevenly, or, god help me, well done.

 I shudder at the recollection of the times I failed the meat that was put in front of me. It was as if I was disrespecting the very memory of the beast who’s meat I was trying to cook. I resolve to be better, always.

 A year ago I travelled to Hawaii. Even then you could see the tension in the people and feel the apprehension in the air. I had gone on a journey to better understand the secrets of kalbi, meat jun, kalua pork, and other dishes; a unique product from the diverse local culture. I visited a swap meet at the local stadium and it was there I was enchanted by a beautiful blade. It was the Kitsune-Neko Katana; a sword forged in the fires of Glorious Nippon, adorned with a cute Hello-Kitty phone charm bought from a since closed local Sanrio store. I was told that the sword would aide me in a time of strife. I bought it, intending for it to be an ancestral weapon passed through my family for generations to come… I just need to have kids first.

 Sadly my time in Hawaii was short. After learning the secrets to kalbi I was forced to flee. The Spam shortages had grown too great and society finally broke down. Hawaii became the 7th state to become uninhabitable as the fighting escalated. I miss Hawaii and its sunny beaches, blue skies, the Walmart so callously built on sacred burial grounds, and its coffee.

 I carry the sword with me wherever I go. Now, I am in Montana assisting in an illegal maple Syrup smuggling operation. Our neighbors north of the border have produced a tremendous amount of that stuff and the dry pancakes of America scream out in thirst. I am doing my part in dodging the unethical syrup tariffs by hauling dozens of pallets of the stuff disguised as liquor. Unfortunately for me, the syrup put me in the crosshairs of some less than reputable company. I often catch a glimpse of them in my side mirrors. Like the Sandworms of Arrakis seeking out the Spice, so too did the Syrup attract the beasts of Canada, the Moose.

 I’d counted at least five of them, massive creatures with horrifying horns protruding from their heads and murder in their eyes. They were weaving in and out of the forest waiting for me to tire, then they’d strike. You could hit one of them with a car at full speed and it would walk away from the accident but you wouldn’t. Three Syrup Smugglers had fallen prey to moose attacks; their thirst was that great. More and more of them were spreading; some travelled by land to America, others swam to Europe. We originally thought they were from Canada but now it seems likely they came from another place all together. Somewhere further north than any point on the globe. I grab my trusty samurai sword. Perhaps today would be the day that it tasted blood.

 As I slow to take a turn, one moose springs from the forest to sprint down the road towards me; seven others join. I accelerate but they are gaining rapidly. I update HQ on my radio but they are too far to offer me any assistance. I am on my own it seems. The moose’s run into each other, their flesh twisting and oozing as they combine. The moose’s have formed an eldritch horror that locks 17 eyes on my truck and pursues me on nine-legs. I increase speed; it’s dangerous to go this fast with such heavy cargo. The AmalgaMoose is almost upon me and it’s clear that speed will not save me.

 I glance down at Hello Kitty, her vacant yet always happy eyes inspire confidence within me that I can win this fight. I think of all the meat I’ve grilled, all the dishes I’ve eaten… I’ve never had moose. I hit the breaks and the AmalgaMoose crashes into my trailer. It’s disturbing crown of horns rends through the metal, but the force from the crash snaps several of its bones. The truck swerves off the road and crashes into the forest.

 The thick delicious contents of my cargo leak out onto the grass a symbolic form of blood from my fallen truck. I lay in my overturned cab, bleeding from a wound near my hairline. The creature removes its head from the twisted wreck of the back of my trailer, losing a few antlers in the process. It opens its 5 mouths and sends out 12 tongues into the illegal syrup; hungrily drinking its ill-gotten gains.

 I open my glove compartment and withdraw some bandages and a bottle of barbecue sauce. After tending my wounds, I kick open the door and extract myself from the cab. I jump to the ground on shaky legs and face the beast down. It looks at me with 13 undamaged eyes as I unsheathe the Kitsune-Neko Katana. The barbecue sauce (a concoction of my own making) hangs from my belt via cord. It’s a silent taunt to my enemy, one that it knows the meaning of:

 “I will kill and eat you.”

 Its shape morphs and flows as it gets into a defensive stance. I shift my weight and stand ready to strike. I feel nothing but contempt for this monster. When it’s dead I will bust the grill out from the back of my cab and I will cook its meat until it is thick and tough. It will be the final act of disrespect for this foul creature.

 The Moose tenses its legs and shifts its horns so they all face their repulsive edges towards me. I glance from its feet to its face and back to its feet again. It springs forward and I do the same; Kitsune-Neko is by my side, my guiding light.

 My name is Bill and by God am I gonna grill.