#incredibly well coordinated; follow ups

[luk3nk13r4n]

K: Did you nab it? L: Yeah, the roses back at the base were starting to wilt. K: Then let's leave before he sees us.

Could have sworn I left a pot of roses on the porch, damn did someone steal it?

[deadsetobsessions]

Snart Jr.

Lovely prompt by @stealingyourbones in her long prompts list, in which Danny Phantom meets the Rogues of Central City! This will have multiple parts, I just haven't written them yet.

Disclaimer: I know very little about Captain Cold and Mirror Master despite having watched some of the Flash. The general vibe I get from Flash is that Flash just really cares about his rogues as evidenced by how he talks to them and doesn't immediately one-shot them like I'm pretty sure he could do. And that Captain Cold is a snarky asshole that just wants to steal things and follow his plans as planned? Tbh, the whole mini-arc/episode with him just felt like Snart was trying to coordinate the world's riskiest group project. He was so done by the end lmao

"Huh. That's new."

Danny hovered an inch off of the ground, having just been spat out by swirling green portal. He was going to have to get back to the Zone later to hot potato Skulker through a couple of portals in revenge. He had a math exam he had to study for, dammit.

Danny sighed. Might as well see what's happening. The portals rarely lead somewhere boring, and Danny was bored. He floated further in, form going intangible and invisible as he passed through thick but insulated marble walls. See, Jazz? He could totally plan ahead. He's also learning that he could probably rob a bank easily, but Danny would never.

"Never been spat out in a bank before," he hummed, eyes flickering on the numerous forms of cowering people in the lobby. The goons scattered about don't see him, but it would take another ghost to even detect his presence so it was to be expected. He moved further in with little hindrance and soon touched down onto polished floor behind two incredibly suspicious individuals.

"What-cha do-ing?"

The two figures, currently and obviously robbing a bank, whirled around in surprise. Their respective weapons whirred to a start before they stopped, baffled by the meta teen standing there with his white hair waving about and innocent look pasted all over his face.

Leonard Snart knew instinctively that the kid was so full of shit. He'd bet his entire plan on the fact that the kid knew exactly what kind of shit he was stirring. Still, Snart was guilty of a lot of things but direct child-endangerment wasn't ever one of them.

"How'd you get in here, kid?" Mirror Master raised his laser pistol, ready to distract and divert the kid with threats of violence- which Snart glared at him for- or with his hall of mirrors that he'd run to.

Danny shrugged. "I walked. If you guys didn't want me here, you should have guarded the place better."

"They were supposed to," Snart drawled. He cased the kid. Teen. The kid had a weird halo effect, that seemed to draw the eyes to the stylized letter on his hazmat suit. The kid was young. Meta. Non-hostile. "You trying to stop us?"

Danny shook his head. "Nah. Came from the Ghost Zone so 's really non'a my business. I was just being nosy."

Snart gave a curt nod and nudged Mirror Master back into cracking the security measures.

Mirror Master scoffed. "What the hell is a ghost zone?"

"I mean, it's pretty self explanatory, right? It's a zone where ghosts live. Hence, you know, Ghost Zone." Danny did a little jazz hands (oh, yeah, he was definitely gonna get Jazz to make that joke sooner or later) for emphasis.

Snart paused for the slightest bit before continuing with his task. Did ghosts exist?

"...Did the Flash send you here, kid?"

"I'm not a kid," Danny scowled, walking right up to them. He got enough of that from his own Rogues, thank you. "And what's a Flash?"

"The Flash, kid." Mirror Master corrected, shoving monitors and PC's and expensive looking office chairs into... a mirror dimension? Danny shrugged and rolled with it.

"Who's that? Your boss?"

"Local superhero, not our boss. You're not from here," Snart quickly deduced as a small smile wormed onto his face from successfully cracking the security without setting off an alarm. They'd have ten minutes before the system cycles the access codes again and flags the fraudulent ones. That should be enough time.

"Superhero? Are they fast? Actually, where is here?" Danny glanced around at the now bare security office like the Flash would show up.

The guy in green and yellow took everything not nailed down to the ground. Danny respected that, even if he kind of wanted to stop the robbery. But he's not really supposed to interfere. That would be uber rude, since it looked like the guy in the fur jacket seemed like he had planned everything precisely.

"You're in Central City, kid. Did you take a wrong turn trying to get to Keystone or something?" Green-yellow guy snorted.

"Gonna be real honest with you, I've got no idea where that is. What state are we in?" Danny followed as the pair rushed to the safe doors. He could offer to phase them through but no matter how flexible Danny's morals have become over the years, he was going to draw a line at actively helping a person commit crime.

"Kansas. Do you teleport? Are you a teleporting meta?" Snart asked, eyes intense as he both glared at Danny and pressed an ear to the safe door.

"Nah, I wish I could teleport. Getting to school would be so much faster. Kansas? Huh, I've never been."

"How lost are you, kid?" Mirror Master incredulously paused from robbing the packages that were delivered to the bank.

Danny shrugged. "Oh, I'm Danny. Who are you guys?"

"Captain Cold. That's Mirror Master."

Danny shifted as the safe clicks open. "So, uh, are you guys the villains here?"

Captain Cold shot him a weird look. "We're actively robbing a bank, kid. That should be obvious."

"Also, you're acting real calm for a kid speaking to two of Fawcett's best super-villains." Mirror Master chimed in, laser-ing off locks on deposit boxes and shoving cash and stuff into his mirror dimension.

Danny padded in after them. "Eh, you haven't shot at me- not even on sight- yet, which is more than I can say for law enforcement, so you're pretty chill in my book."

Captain Cold snorted, pointedly taking his freeze gun and breaking off a large manual lock. "I believe it's my job to be the chill one. Plus, we don't kill. The Flash would be up our... business if we did. It's not worth the trouble."

"You can say ass. I've heard worse."

"Not from me, kid."

Danny hadn't had that kind of consideration from anyone in a long time. Even if it's a bit... mother-hennish, the halfa couldn't find it in him to be annoyed. "Ah, okay. Well, you also haven't kidnapped me or tried to stop me from following you, so..."

Mirror Master shoved a giant painting into his dimension. "You haven't tried to stop us; it'd be weird trying to stop you."

"Makes sense."

"Heh. You're alright, kid. Though... who's kidnapping you?"

"My fruit loop of a godfather. It's a thing," Danny avoided the searching gaze like a pro.

"Hold this." Captain Cold said suddenly, giving Danny a massive dufflebag.

"Wait, what?"

Captain Cold began stuffing the bag with cash and once the money in the vicinity (not that much) went in, he said "Go look around. Having another person in here is a risk so you might as well make up for it."

Danny's calling it. Captain Cold was full of shit. The guy's a big softie. Danny smiled sheepishly and agreed. Danny circled the place, pointing out expensive looking stuff- "for fun" and not because they were nice to him- when he felt the tell-tale zaps of an anomaly in Clockwork's domain.

"Move!" He shouted at the two villains, both of whom dove out of the way. Instinctively, Danny threw out his gloved hands and iced the floors, instincts bristling at the incoming danger. His jaw dropped as a blur encountered the ice and went ass over tea kettle onto the floor, unable to stop its own momentum.

"Oh shit!" Danny uttered, eyes wide as the blur slammed into the opposite- reinforced- wall with a pained shout. The stopped person was wearing red, with a lighting bolt motif all over their uniforms. That implied speed. Speed implied "The Flash." Danny knew a hero when he saw one and he just iced him. Shit.

"What-" The Flash groaned. Mirror Master and Captain Cold gaped.

"OhmyancientsI'msosorrygottagobye!" Danny shouted.

"Hey, wait, kid-!" Captain Cold shouted. Danny ignored him, going invisible in a panic and sank into the ground, mortified. After thirty seconds of self-hatred, he zoomed out and away. Danny held his head in his hands as he flew back to where Amity was...

Only to stare down at the empty plots of land where his city was supposed to be. Danny shoved a hand into his chest and pulled out his phone.

[No results for Amity Park. Did you mean "Amity Arkham"?]

"What."

Any research he did after that only turned up a Jasmine Fellona, a budding neurobiologist in her field, and other people that were adjacent to the people Danny knew. But nothing, nothing from Amity Park.

"Oh, yeah, we're definitely not in Kansas anymore, Dorothy."

---

As the Flash stood around to keep an eye on the hand-cuffed villains, he couldn't help but ask.

"So, uh, Snart. Did you... get a kid?"

"What." Snart asked, incredibly done with this shit.

"You know. Snart junior? With the ice and everything?" Flash gestured at the un-melting ice that covered the floor leading into the safe. "I mean, I'm not thrilled you're pulling your kid into a life of crime..."

"No."

"Wait, you had a kid and didn't tell me?" Mirror Master asked, mildly offended. "That was your kid? No wonder no one shot at him!"

"He's not my kid." Snart gave Flash the stink-eye. "And don't you have a couple of baby sidekicks running around?"

"C'mon dude, you're so obviously fond of him. It's okay, you don't have to hide it." Flash avoided the topic... in a flash.

"Can someone arrest me right now so these idiots can be removed from my vicinity?" Snart snarked to the approaching officer, jerking his head to point at the beaming Flash.

"You and me both, buddy," Officer West sighed.

---

One trip to the zone and a stressful conversation with Clockwork later, Danny was found in his keep, smacking his ghost head into the ghost wall of his ghost keep. Danny would unleash a Wail if it didn't have the nasty habit of bringing everything around him.

Apparently, he got "Amity'd," a process which meant Amity spat him out like an over chewed dog bone and refused to take him back.

"That doesn't even make sense! I left there a bunch of times! And came back!"

"The city has decided that it was your time to leave, Danny." Clockwork spared a wane smile for the curled up boy-king.

"I have people to protect there! My entire life! My haunt!" Danny yelled, breaths that he didn't technically need coming shorter and shorter. The neon green of the Zone whirled in and out of his vision in a dizzying shudder of anxiety and incoming panic.

"It wasn't your haunt, I'm afraid. The city nurtured you as a young spirit- thus shared her haunt- and has decided that it was time for you to... leave the nest, so to speak."

That stopped Danny's panic in its tracks. "Are you telling me she NightVale-d me? Some kind of involuntary coming-of-age bs?"

If he weren't on the edge of hysterical laughter, Danny would take a moment and proudly say to Mr. Lancer that he had paid attention in class.

"...Yes."

"Fuck." Danny dropped his head down in despair. His head made a loud thunk. The bag of cash he'd accidently made away with sat innocently at his feet. Further proof that it wasn't some nightmare he'd wake up from anytime soon.

---

Danny slumped over the desk, exhausted. Technus had lent him a ghostly hand and hacked into government data bases to re-establish his social security number and all the other dumb bits and bobs that he needed to establish his identity because Amity was an actual ghost town. Ghost to reality, ghost to real life. Ancients, Amity even had their own data network, which he couldn't access outside of Amity itself. This meant that Danny couldn't even call anyone. Ugh.

"I gotta find a place to live," he mumbled to himself. Danny, despite knowing that he needed to do things, did not move for another ten minutes.

Then, as his phone alarm went off, buzzing on the table. Like... Clockwork... Danny sat up straight and wiped all traces of wallowing self pity off his face. The people in the library- students- gave him solemn nods of solidarity. Danny nodded back and left the library.

He wandered around Fawcett City, somewhere Clockwork had recommended he stayed. With Clockwork, recommendations tended to be life-important (plot-important?) orders. Danny liked the place, really. It gave off the weird and settled "what-the-fuck,-Box-Ghost-did-you-have-to-destroy-the-mall?" vibes Amity constantly gave off after the ghosts started coming through. He thought he even saw a talking tiger! Awesome.

"Hey, are you new here?"

Danny looked down. His reflection stared back at him.

Did he have another kid? Did someone clone him again? Ancients curse you, Vlad!

"Uh- yeah."

"Oh. Do you need help getting around? I was born and raised here all my life, so I can totally do that!"

Oh thank the Ancients, this wasn't another Dani. Just a weirdly similar looking kid.

"You know I'm a stranger, right?"

"I don't think anyone helping Nanny Mae pick up her oranges would hurt kids," the kid said archly, but with a grin so like Dani, it made Danny miss his younger sister.

"Okay, you got me there. But still."

The kid sighed. "I know how to be safe, thanks. I'm Billy!"

"Danny. Nice to meet you."

"Okay, Danny, where you off to?"

"I'm actually trying to find a place that'll be cheap to rent." He's sixteen, but Danny could totally pass as eighteen. "I'm thinking about moving to Fawcett. It's nice here, with all the ambient magic and stuff."

This got him a wide-eyed look. "Do you use magic?"

"Something like that."

"Cool."

Danny took in the considering glint in Billy's eyes and decided that it was future!Danny's problem. Present!Danny was currently occupied with trying to stay off the streets. That giant bag of cash he'd accidently absconded with would be helpful and Danny felt kind of bad... but his growling stomach had chased that away quickly.

"This way!"

Danny shrugged his wavering morality off and followed the kid, shouldering his new and stolen duffle bag. If anything happened, he could just go ghost. It wouldn't be the weirdest thing that's happened in this city, Danny made sure to check.

"Have you been by the zoo?" Billy began to rattle off his favorite details about the Fawcett city zoo as he wove around the city.

Danny didn't think he'd actually have to go ghost.

"Not yet, actually. Is it true that there's a talking tiger there?"

"Yeah! Tawky Tawny! He's my friend!"

"Awesome."

[dancinglikebutterflywings]

500 Followers = 500 Words Event: Hongjoong

Let Them Look | Kim Hongjoong

-> Pairing: Kim Hongjoong x Photographer!Reader -> Requested by: @staytiny2000 -> Prompt:  Prompt 19: “People are looking at us.” “Let them look.”  -> Warnings: a little anxiousness and self-doubt. Hongjoong being readers no.1 fan and supporter. Kisses. -> Word Count: 543 -> Request: Closed.

500 followers = 500 words Masterlist | Main Masterlist

©️ 2024 dancinglikebutterflywings - do not copy/modify/repost anywhere. reblog instead

Feeling Hongjoong’s presence nearby calms the nerves in Y/N's stomach as she anxiously adjusts the settings on her camera. She takes a deep breath, focusing on the rhythmic click of her camera as she fine-tunes the aperture and shutter speed, trying to find the perfect balance for the lighting outside. Her assistants are all around her ensuring that everything else is running smoothly, arranging props, and coordinating with the stylists and ATEEZ’s managers and staff.  

The lively chatter and laughter create an energetic atmosphere, yet Y/N remains in her own focused bubble, navigating her anxious thoughts. This is her first time photographing idols. It’s an opportunity she never expected to have but is eternally grateful for. 

She glances over at Hongjoong, who is talking with one of his managers. She lifts her camera and takes a quick snapshot of her boyfriend. 

As if he can sense her attention on him, he excuses himself from the conversation he's having and makes his way over to her. 

“Hey,” he says, his voice warm, his eyes showing concern knowing how nervous she’s been leading up to today, “how’s it going?” 

She flashes him a smile, trying to mask her anxiety, but she knows he can see right through her. He knows her better than anyone else. “It’s going well, just trying to get everything set up before they stylists finish doing what they need to do.”  

Hongjoong leans in slightly, his presence grounding her amidst the whirlwind of activity around them. “You’ve got this,” he encourages, his confidence in her and her abilities shining through. 

“Thanks, baby,” she says, her voice softening. “I just want to do a good job.” 

He steps even closer, resting his hands on her waist, “They love your work. They wouldn’t have picked you if they didn’t believe you could do an amazing job,” he assures her. “You’re an incredible photographer, my love.” 

“You’re just saying that because you’re my boyfriend,” she says, a blush creeping onto her cheeks. 

“Maybe,” he chuckles, his eyes sparkling with mischief, “but I’m also saying it because it’s true.” 

His reassurance washes over her like a warm wave, calming her racing heart. She takes a deep breath, letting his words sink in. “You always know what to say to make me feel better,” she admits, her smile growing more genuine.  

“Of course,” he replies, his voice sincere as he closes the gap between them. “I’m your biggest fan. I’ll always be here to cheer you on, no matter what,” he continues and plants a kiss to her cheek before moving to her lips. 

She tries to hide her smile as lips leaves hers, feeling everyone’s eyes on them. Glancing around, she notices some quickly looking away from the couple as if they got caught staring. “People are looking at us.”  

“Let them look,” he replies casually, his confidence unwavering as he gives her another kiss on the lips. This kiss ends when they hear his name being called by one of the stylists. “You’ve got this, okay?” he reminds her. “I love you.” 

She nods, now feeling encouraged, her anxiousness almost non-existent. “I love you, too,” she says pecking his lips one last time before he walks away leaving her to finish getting everything ready. 

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[mak-be-ghouled]

The Sound of the End of Day

2.1k Words of Angst/comfort

Mountain/Dew (and a bit of Aether)

Terzo, Copia, and other ghouls mentioned

A huge thank you to @nastylittleghouls and @divine-misfortune for their thoughts under this post:)

the tittle being from Monstrance Clock only felt right

When Copia is lifted by the Skeleton Dancers during Dance Macabre, Mountain and Dew are taken back to one of the worst days in their time topside. 

They had officially made it to the final leg of the Re-Imperatour.  

Unfathomable hours were poured into rehearsals long before the tour was even announced. Any one of the ghouls could've played the show forwards, backwards, and in their sleep. They knew the order by heart, had already performed it more times than they cared to count. 

But this one was special, Papa was adamant about how important the shows in LA would be, and the ghouls were determined to do their part for their Papa. Hell, they even had choreography coordinated with real dancers. 

And so, more rehearsals were called, plugging in the Chamber Ghoulettes and the Skeleton Dancers. Sure, the ghouls weren't exactly used to sharing the stage with so many others, but they couldn't deny the sheer talent of the new additions. They rehearsed until every moving part was perfect. Until they were certain there would be no surprises. 

But something about the crowd’s screaming, the blinding lights, the shadowy figures, the music, the lift.  

The fucking lift.  

Mountain and Dew hadn't made the connection until now.  

The audience screamed, their Papa was in the air, and the music was still going.  

But Mountain and Dew were back on that dammed stage. 

That Gothenburg stage where they were promised they’d never have to return to. That stage where they saw their former Papa for the last time. That stage where Terzo was ripped from them before they even processed what was going on. That stage that haunted their nightmares and the darkest corners of their minds.  

Papa was in the air and Mountain was stuck behind his kit. He was frozen, just like last time. Just like he had sworn he wouldn't allow himself to do ever again. It's a wonder he only stalled for a moment. Straining to focus on Rain’s base line, to keep up. His head was swimming and he was drowning. 

And yet, no one else seemed phased. Swiss was still singing, still dancing--well moving his hips in a way that could maybe be interpreted as dancing. Aurora and Cumulus were still singing and dancing together, mimicking the Skeletons from earlier. Phantom was still working the audience as always. Cirrus was still playing. Rain still stood strong, was still in time. 

But Dew.  

Dew saw it too. The moment Papa was in the air his eyes fled to Aether. But Aether wasn't there. Aether wasn't on tour. There wasn't anyone to run after Copia. Dew’s heart stutters as he scans the stage. 

Finally, his eyes land on Mountain. Just like they had that night.  

Dew was certain they’d lost another Papa. He turned to run backstage. To follow those shadowy figures this time. To do what he hadn't then. What he beats himself up for not doing. What fuels that nagging voice in his mind.  

Dew is in auto pilot. He’s straining to find tempo again. To find the right notes on his bass. Dew’s hands are shaking so hard he's not sure any of the notes he's played in the last minute have been even remotely correct. He doesn't recognize the song anymore; this isn't Monstrance Clock and his bass feel wrong. Too Small. Too Light. 

Dew sees the fear behind Mountains eyes. Knows it's the same fear that is clouding his vision too. Dew watches Mountain shake his head, desperately trying to clear the fog.  

After what feels like an eternity Mountain returns Dew's gaze. Mountain gives him a firm nod and a half smile. It's so incredibly forced but that doesn't matter. Not right now. Somehow it makes everything okay. Confirms that Mountain saw it too.  

That it's not real this time. Papa is okay this time. He won't have to watch Aether run after him this time. He won’t have to run after them both this time.  

Finally, Dew can feel his hands again and The Forum isn't spinning quite so fast. He looks down. He’s not holding a bass. Fucking of course he isn't, he's got his guitar in his hands. He thinks he might hear Dance Macabre echoing in his mind. But it's so distant. A dream maybe? This certainly wouldn't be the first dream Dew’s had of this moment. 

And then, everything goes quiet. Copia is back on the ground. He isn't shouting or fighting. He’s singing. The crowd isn't screaming in fear, they're cheering. Those shadowy figures have disappeared. The Skeleton Dancers are still surrounding Copia, but he's still there. Still standing. Copia isn't being dragged off the stage kicking and screaming. He’s safe. He’s alive. 

Mountain can barely hold his drumsticks and Dew is sure he would've dropped his guitar if it wasn't for the strap on his shoulder. They shoot each other a final glance before Square Hammer starts. Before they have to pretend like they didn't just watch their Papa get pulled from the stage, leaving them helpless.  

And yet, by the looks on everyone else's faces, they hadn't. No one seems to care.  

Dew’s stomach twists and he's positive he's going to throw up. 

Mountain’s not much better, swaying slightly behind his kit, dizzy. 

They want nothing more than for this fucking show to be over with. To know that their Papa is okay. That they didn't fail him again. To call Aether.  

As soon as Copia finishes his farewell speech, Mountain and Dew are flanking his sides. This isn't their normal spots for bows, but they have to be around Copia right now. To hold his hand. To know that he's alright. They don't want to overwhelm him. They don't want to do anything too drastic; they know how important this show is for him. But they have to know he’s okay. They pull Copia into a bone cracking hug, and while Copia appreciates their affection, something neither Dew nor Mountain are particularly fond of sharing in front of this many people, he can't help but wonder what has prompted it. 

The ride to the hotel is a blur. Mountain vaguely remembers Cirrus’s questioning glance and Swiss’s hand on his back, leading him towards the bus. 

Dew thinks he hears Rain’s voice send comments and compliments his way, the beginning of a call and response of sort, a habit they’d fallen into after Rain’s first ritual. But this time Dew’s response is just a nod, hardly even perceptible had Rain not been burning holes into him with his stare since he caught whiff of Dew’s distress during Dance Macabre.  

When they arrive at the hotel, Dew is a bit more present. Asking Copia to ensure he and Mountain room together. He reassures the pack that him and Mountain are okay. Drained, but okay.  

He tries his hardest to guide Mountain to their room. To be the life preserver he knows Mountain needs right now. But fuck does he need one too.  

He feels bad calling Aether without checking what time it is over there, but doesn't even have the time to consider anything else before his arms are moving on their own accord. Pulling out his phone and finding Aether’s contact. Mountain needs Aether right now. Dew needs Aether right now. 

Dew knew how much Mountain still thought about that night. Mountain had confided in Dew shortly after it.  

In The Pits, Mountain was ridiculed for being a plant-specialized Earth Giant. Others thought that made him soft, pointless. Earth Giants were meant to be geological, what good would a giant with a knack for plants be, that job was for the little ones. 

Mountain was paralyzed with fear. He was stuck behind his drum kit. Forced to watch as Terzo disappeared. He was helpless. Years of working on himself, his self-image, his confidence, flushed down the drain in that single moment. Again, Mountain began to wonder if they were correct. Maybe he really was soft. Useless. A sorry excuse for an Earth Giant.  

“Hi Sweet Thing. You with us?” 

Mountain is ripped from his thoughts as he hears Aether's voice. It’s crackly and a bit robotic through the speakers of Dew’s phone, but it is undeniably Aether.  

“Hmm?” 

Mountain hums, his eyes finally focusing on something for the first time in hours. 

Dew is holding his phone in front of his face, Aether is dimly lit on the other end, smiling softly at them. 

“There he is.” 

Aether's eyes light up as Mountain acknowledges him for the first time since he'd answered Dew's call.

“Wasn't right without you Aeth. Fuck. Kept looking around for you. Imagined you running after him”  

Dew laughs dryly to himself but tears fill his eyes. 

Aether wishes he could just crawl through the screen and hold his boys. He knows how much they love Copia, how much Terzo's death affected them. How much it affected himself. But he’s on the other side of the fucking world, so he just hopes his words and presence, even if though a phone screen, can provide them enough comfort to get some rest before they have to do this all over again tomorrow. Without him. Again.  

“I know baby, I'm so sorry. Wish I was there too”  

Aether smiles sadly though the phone. 

“Guess neither of us made too big a fool of ourselves though, maybe those pointless rehearsals weren't so pointless”  

Dew tries to joke, but Aether can see right through him. 

“Why didn't I see it?” 

Mountain mumbles into the space between Dew’s neck and shoulder that he’s crammed himself into. 

“What was that Hun?” 

Dew asks, rubbing the back of Mountain’s head where his hair had been tied back for the show. 

“The lift, I mean why didn’t I see it before. We practiced--Satan knows how many times-- just like you said, and I never once thought anything of it until tonight. Why'd it have to hit me in the middle of a fucking show. Probably made a dumbass of myself up there loosing time during the second to last song of the night... Was supposed to be perfect for Papa.”  

Mountain whispers the last part, but Dew and Aether are still able to catch it.  

Dew pulls Mountain closer to himself and Aether’s heart breaks, longing to reach out, to whisk those worries away. 

“Mountain, I didn't make the connection until tonight either. It was different. I dunno how, but it... was.”  

Dew silently curses himself for his lack of explanation, he knows that's what Mountain needs right now. Mountain needs logic. Something that tells him why something happened so he can avoid it next time. But truthfully Dew doesn't know. He doesn't know why tonight was different, but it was, and it fucked him up too. 

“I'm sure it had something to do with the crowd and the stage lights. I remember those helmets; you can't see shit in ‘em. Hearing people screaming, being blinded and burned by those lights, watching someone you care about, who holds the same title, in the same spot as one of the most traumatic events of your time topside. That’s probably why it was different. I know that doesn't change anything, but it does make a difference.”  

Aether adds.  

And logically Mountain knows Dew is right, that Aether is right. That it was different. But he still hates himself for faltering, even if no one else noticed.  

“Plus, I'm sure if you really did mess up, anything noticeably at least, we all would've gotten a smartass text from Swiss. I'm thinking something along the lines of ‘The All-Mighty Mountain Crumbles at the Sight of a Dangerously Handsome Multi's Hips"  

Aether jokes while drawing a rectangle in the air with his hands, mimicking a news headline, hoping to bring his mates back down to Earth.  

Dew giggles, a genuine giggle and Mountain huffs out a laugh. It isn't much, he knows that, but Aether has never been prouder of himself.  

They talk for a bit longer, until Mountain and Dew’s minds have cleared a bit and their eyes have returned to that deep forest green and the vibrant copper and ocean blue Aether had fallen so in love with, before any of this mattered.  

Mountain and Dew finally settle into their bed. Their position is awkward at best but they’re comfortable. They're Here. They have each other. Copia is alright. They're alright.  

And that's all that matters right now. 

All that can matter right now. 

[ghostofskywalker]

Almost Lost You

Anakin Skywalker/Reader

Fictober 2024 Day 27 of 31

Words: 1,211

Summary: Injuries on the battlefield lead to a quiet moment between lovers.

Anakin Skywalker Masterlist

This was how it ended, you supposed, lying on the wet ground and feeling the cold start to seep through your clothes. The blaster wounds in your legs and abdomen had hit the most inconvenient places, because not only were they incredibly painful but they had also immediately removed you from the battle. And with no active combatants around, the blaster you loosely gripped while sprawled on the soil was downright useless. 

You could hear the sound of the battle raging across the woods, but your comm device had been knocked from your grip, now resting too far away for you to grab it. This is what you get for volunteering to act as the perimeter spy, despite the fact that you were not usually a talented sniper. Thankfully all the nearby battle and commando droids had been called to meet the 501st in combat, so there weren’t any more enemies for you to worry about. 

If you could just get to the comm, you could reach out to Rex, tell them the situation and plead for a transport to take you back to the Resolute. The med-droids and clone medics there might be able to take care of you before it was too late, if you could make the call in time. 

If the battalion had to make a hot exit, would they even remember you? 

No, it was no use thinking like that. Determined to at least try to contact your allies, you heaved a sigh as you pushed your arms forward, trying to move closer to the comm. What followed would not be pretty, but it might just mark the difference between life and death, so you were willing to make the sacrifice. 

Dragging your body forward like a baby rancor, you used every ounce of available strength. The muddy ground of this planet made things a little more difficult, but you persisted, a determined look on your face as more mud caked the cloth of your Republic-issued uniform. 

Would the dirt stop the bleeding, or would it just make things worse?

You caught one of your wounds on a particularly sharp rock, and a whispered swear left your mouth as tears welled in your eyes. Blinking them back, there was nothing you could do but move forward with slightly more caution. 

You really needed to put in some kind of official recommendation that all personnel carry some kind of emergency medkit on their person, because it sure would have been useful right now.

When you finally reached the device, you knew that if you couldn’t reach anyone, that you would have to remain here. With everything you had, you pushed the button and tried to reach out. 

Maker, your wounds hurt. 

“-ex!” your voice cracked as you spoke for the first time in a while. “Come in, Captain!” 

Thankfully it connected, because you could hear the telltale sounds of blaster shots and what you believed to be lightsaber movement in the background. “Yes? What is it?” 

His voice was cutting in and out, and you hoped that he was able to hear your full message. “In the forest to the east,” you said, gasping as the pain suddenly flared up. “I got hit, can’t move.” 

Thankfully, it seemed that the captain understood what you were trying to say, even though his voice completely cut out halfway through. “Send your coordinates! No, we’ll track-” 

When you tried to hit the button to comm him again, nothing went through. Resting back with your head against the cold, wet ground and fighting to keep your eyes open, you knew there was nothing left to do at this point but hope. 

As the world began to leave your focus and your eyes began to close, you could have sworn you heard the sound of a lightsaber moving through the air, and someone’s voice as warm hands rested on your face. 

***

When you first opened your eyes, the immediate brightness had you momentarily wondering if you truly were dead. Your mind felt fuzzy and unfocused, and it seemed as though your surroundings were swaying back and forth for a good couple moments. 

However, as the medbay of the Resolute came into focus, you were grateful you weren’t actually dead, because that would have been a real inconvenience. 

Still sluggish and tired, you could feel pressure at the sites of the blaster burns, and the injury on your abdomen brought a dull stinging pain to the forefront of your mind, likely the results of whatever anti-septic they had used  to clean your wounds. 

Picking your head up, you could see Anakin asleep, sitting on one of the (very uncomfortable) chairs they kept here, his head slumped over and resting on the side of your bed as he snored. His eyes flew open the moment you shifted, and he didn’t even check to see if anyone was around before he had thrown his arms around you. 

“Anakin!” you hissed as his lips made contact with your forehead. “What if someone’s looking?” Despite the fact that he’s the one at risk if your romance was discovered, he never seemed to be the one worried about getting caught. 

“I don’t care if some droids see,” he said, reaching down to take your hand in his. “I thought I lost you.” 

“I also thought I was a goner,” you admitted. 

Anakin’s arms pulled you into another hug, and you selfishly initiated a quick kiss with your lover. Despite the battle that had just been fought, the medbay was surprisingly empty, void of even the clone medics you had come to be friends with in your time on the flagship. 

“You’re so strong,” he whispered, pressing kisses in quick succession to your forehead. “But I never want you to leave my sight again.” 

You laughed, even though it came out more like a croak the first time around. “I think we’d have a harder time hiding things if that happened.” 

“I don’t care,” he said, and the smile that crossed his face clued you in to the fact that he was joking. “Half my men already know about us.” 

“What?” Your eyes were wide as you pulled slightly away from him. 

“Relax, they’re not going to say anything,” he reassured you. “If we ever wanted to get away for a couple rotations, I think we’d have an entire team of operatives covering for us.” 

You breathed a sigh of relief as you smiled. You had been working with the 501st for quite some time now, and you’d be lying if you said they hadn’t wormed their way into your heart. “I could do with a vacation.”

Anakin laughed as he leaned down and gently pressed his lips to yours. “Once you get better, then we’ll do some planning.” 

Your eyes started to droop as you spoke, likely from whatever kind of painkiller the droids had administered to you when you were out. “What about a beach? Or-” you dozed off in the middle of the sentence. 

When the medbay was filled with nothing but the sound of your soft snores, Anakin just smiled as he kissed your forehead one last time. He needed to make some plans, and none of them had to do with battles or strategies.

- the end -

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[lackadaisicallizard]

Sundays

Growing up, Regulus hated Sundays. 

Sundays were mornings spent in church, pretending to the world that they were a perfect family. Sundays were stuffy clothes and tight ties wrapped around throats spouting nothing but lies about the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black. 

Sundays were carefully coordinated games disguised as family lunches, the entire extended family coming together to outdo each other in just how well they were doing. Sundays were masterclasses in manipulation, lies and deceit. 

But now, fifteen years later on the most ordinary of all days, Regulus can hear voices coming from the kitchen. 

“I think that’s enough eggs, Haz, why don’t you add more flour now?” 

“How much do I need to add?” 

“I have no idea, just pour until it looks right.” 

Sliding on his slippers, Regulus makes his way out of the bedroom and down the hall, stopping in the doorway of the kitchen. He leans against the doorframe for a moment, watching the scene in front of him. 

“How’s it going there?” His husband peers into the mixing bowl that seems to have more eggs in it than any hen could feasibly lay in a year. 

“The flour won’t come out of the bag,” Harry says with a frown. 

“Try banging on the end of it,” James suggests and before Regulus can even consider stepping in to stop him, their son does just that. He is far too much like his father for his own good sometimes. 

Flour ends up everywhere. 

“Papa’s going to kill me,” Harry groans through a layer of white dust. 

“Papa doesn’t have to know,” James says, “you finish the batter and I’ll clean it up.” 

Harry stirs it, a puff of flour rising into the air. “I think it may be beyond saving now, Dad.” 

“J’en ai marre,” their heads whip around at the sound of Regulus’ voice, both faces a similar mask of concern. “You two are useless.” 

He steps into the kitchen now, holding out his hand for the bowl, which Harry passes him with a guilty expression. “I love you?” 

Regulus’ own expression softens completely at that and he places the bowl on the counter before holding out his arms for his son. Harry moves into them without hesitation, being pulled into a warm embrace and leaning into his father. “Tu es la lumière de ma vie,” Regulus says, pressing a kiss to the top of Harry’s soft curls before pulling back and looking at him in the eyes. “That doesn’t mean you can get flour all over my kitchen though, compris?” 

“Oui papa, désolé. We were just trying to make you breakfast in bed.” 

“It’s true,” James cuts in, a smile pulling up the corner of his lips, “we know you’ve had a long week so we thought we’d make some pancakes.” 

Regulus smiles back, he can’t help himself. “I’m not sure which one of you thought you could pull that off considering the great scrambled egg fiasco last month.” 

“Those eggs were delicious and you know it!” 

“I had to go to the store for more and make them myself.” 

“… my comment still stands,” James says with a grin and Regulus rolls his eyes at his husband. 

“Harry, go and fetch the chocolate chips from the cupboard and I’ll attempt to salvage this.” 

Harry disappears into the pantry and as Regulus starts to decanter as much flour as he can from the very floury bowl, he feels arms wrap around him from behind. 

“I’m sorry about the flour,” James’ voice is low in his ear. 

Regulus hums. “I would say I’m surprised, but I’m not.” 

A soft chuckle followed by lips against his hair. “I’m also sorry for ruining your Sunday, love. I know it’s the first day you’ve had off in a while.” 

But the thing is, he hasn’t. 

Because Regulus knows what a bad Sunday feels like. They’re ingrained into his brain. 

But this right here? Making far too much batter to even out the mountain of flour that he can’t salvage from the bowl. Allowing his son to add almost an entire bag of chocolate chips to the mixture. Watching his husband smother a tower of pancakes with syrup and whipped cream. Cleaning up an incredibly messy kitchen together as a family after they’ve done. 

Well, this is what Sundays are now. They’re not perfect, or proper, or in the least bit civilised. 

And he loves every one. 

[luk3nk13r4n]

L&K: You got it! (-w-)ゝ(^-^)ゝ

If you need anything boss, you know where to find us 🫡

Excellent. Be ready to head out soon—there’s an important “meeting” I’d like you two to join me for.

[awkward-halfhug]

saving grace | warren peace x reader

summary: you have some bullying problems. Warren helps out

contents: Ron Wilson Bus Driver's daughter!reader x warren peace (because my sister said she wanted to see Ron Wilson mentioned and I said I can do u one better), cw bullying, chocolates, birdsong

2.4k

Bang. Bang bang. Your fists are softer than they should be against the thin metal. The knocking half hearted at this point.

This is the second month into the school year, and you've found yourelf in this exact scenario nearly every day. It's always right as you're heading to lunch. No matter where you happen to be, you're grabbed in broad daylight, hauled to your locker, and trapped there by one means or another, until you can figure your way out.

It's not the same people every time. They seem to rotate out. You think maybe they're on a schedule. Wonder if they coordinate with eachother and see what day is good for each of them. The idea makes you smile a bit, though it really shouldn't. Organized crime.

You don't always see who it is, but even if you do, it doesn't matter. Sky high doesn't have the best track record with this kind of thing. So, you mainly keep your predicament to yourself. Your teachers have enough to worry about, molding young superminds and all that. And your dad...you just really don't want your dad to worry.

It's not all bad though! Sometimes the cafeteria gets a bit too loud for you anyways. It can get pretty rowdy, especially when the students use their powers to show off to eachother (even though they're not supposed to outside of gym). So, really, a nice enclosed space isn't the worst place you could be, all things considered.

You sigh. It would be better if you had tater tots, though.

You hear footsteps down the hallway and perk up. Start banging your fist against your locker door in earnest.

"Excuse me? Hello?" You wait a moment and frown when there's no response. Try again.

"Would you mind opening my locker please? I'm inside of it!" Because that wasn't clear, surely.

"Whats the combination?" You hear, muffled. You grin in relief.

"It's 123"

Silence.

"Your locker combination is 123?" The voice is incredulous, maybe a little bit judgy.

"They find a way in anyway, it's easier for the janitor if I keep it simple so he can remember." You defend to the stranger through the metal.

You hear a sigh, and then the clicking of your lock, and then finally, the door opens.

The sight that greets you is not the last thing you expect to see, as it's not one of your bullies. But it's pretty close. Warren Peace is standing in front of you. The perpetually glaring, incredibly intimidating Warren Peace is your savior. Who would've thought?

You almost forget to climb out of your locker except he starts to look at you like you're stupid, and that's usually your cue to jump into action.

"Hi!" You say and he flinches. Too loud, woops.

Warren puts his hands in his pockets and turns to leave, this interaction apparently over for him.

You close your locker and hurry to catch up to him. "Thank you so much. I was getting hungry."

Warren nods. "Yeah, well..." He scratches the back of his neck.

It takes you a minute to realize you're headed outside.

"Did you already eat?" You ask.

"Lunch is almost over, so yeah."

You frown. There's probably not enough time for you to go get something and eat before fifth period. You brighten when you remember the chocolate your dad keeps in his mini lunch cooler. And you happen to be heading out that way.

"Do you like chocolate?"

"Why are you following me?" Warren looks put-out, but not for much longer, you decide.

"I'm thanking you."

"You already thanked me." He sighs.

"You didn't answer me. Do you like chocolate?" You persist. It's an important question, after all.

Warren pinches his lips together, looks like he's internally debating answering, and then reluctantly says "Yes." Before picking his pace up a bit so he's walking ahead of you out the school doors into the courtyard.

You speed up to match him, almost. "Good! Awesome. Follow me." You smile into his confused face and lock your arm around his before pulling him toward the school bus. He could get out of your hold easily, you're sure, but he doesn't, so he must be at least a little curious where you're going.

Your dad is on the other side of the bus when you arrive. You can see him practicing what might be karate moves under the shade of a big tree.

Warren looks less curious and more wary now as you tug his arm forward.

"What are you–?"

"Hey dad!"

You feel Warren startle beside you at the same time as you watch your dad startle in front of you. You watch him fall onto his butt after a particularly enthusiastic kick.

"Oww" your dad moans, and you grimace.

"Sorry."

He waves you off as he stands, giving you a smile through the pain. "It's okay, kiddo." You watch his eyes widen when he notices Warren beside you and he straightens his posture.

"Oh! Hi there, I'm Ron Wilson, bus driver", your dad whips out a business card and hands it to a bemused Warren. "And this little ray of sunshine's dad."

Your dad smiles at you proudly and you smile back. His eyes then flicker down to where your arm is locked around Warren's and a a weird expression crosses his face.

You flush and drops Warren's arm. Warren rolls his shoulders back like he'd been held captive against his will, which is just silly, and could finally stretch his muscles.

Warren glares at you a little as he makes eye contact with you before nodding at your dad. "Warren."

"You guys new friends?" Your dad asks, less excited than he usually is to meet new people. His eyes were still staring at where your arm was around Warren's.

Are you friends now? You're not sure. You don't remember the last time you made a friend, but a friendly gesture seems like the start of a friendship, right? That's how it was in kindergarten, you think.

"Warren helped me out with something at school today" you feel Warren give you a look and ignore it, "and I wanted to give him some chocolate to thank him. Do you have more in your lunch? I'll pay you back."

Your dad's features seem to clear up a little. He looks at Warren's eyes instead of his arm. "Oh, well that was nice of you! Sure, sure. What do you like, Hershey? Nestlé?" He goes to his cooler in the bus and starts rummaging around to find the goods.

You look up at Warren with an excited smile, and you watch as his glare loses heat almost reluctantly.

He rolls his eyes and leans toward you slightly. Murmurs as your dad is still in the bus. "I had stuff to do, y'know. Why am I out here meeting your dad?"

You frown. "It's not a proper thank you without sugar." You tell him. You want to add duh but think that'd probably be rude.

He snorts. "Ah. Well then, of course. Proceed." He says it sarcastically, but he's still standing there so you know he wants the chocolate just as much as any sane person would.

Your dad backs out of the bus with his arms full of mini chocolates. Smiling, he gestures Warren closer with his head.

"Well, don't be shy!" Your dad jostles his armfull until Warren slowly walks over and takes some chocolate, looking pained. The effect is lost though, when he takes his time sorting through the chocolates until he finds one he wants.

Warren starts to back away but when your dad says "take two!" Warren doesn't hesitate.

"Uh, thanks. Sir." The words are clumsy in Warren's mouth and it makes you smile.

"Thank you dad!" You say as you take two for yourself. "See you later." You give him a kiss on the cheek and lead Warren back to the school where fifth period is probably starting.

You walk in silence through the doors and hide your chocolates in sync when you see Mr. Boy in the hallway.

The bell rings and when you turn to say goodbye to Warren, he's already gone.

———

It's a week later before you really see eachother again. You have gym together but nothing else, what with your ability to perfectly imitate birdcalls deeming you hero support, and him being a hero and all. Your hero, you giggle to yourself.

Distracted, you don't see the boys until it's too late. Two sets of arms are around you from the sides before you know it, hauling you up and, predictably, to your locker.

You think maybe by this point you should just resign yourself to the routine completely, but you can't help yourself from struggling against the hold. No one helps you as you look from face to face of your peers. Some look on with pity, some pretend not to see, and others don't care. A couple even laugh.

You feel stupid tears prickle at the backs of your eyes in frustration and struggle a little harder. Your attackers gasp and you think you've done something right, but when you twist around, you see the source of the change isn't you, it's Warren. He's got a hand on each of the boys' shoulders, and as you watch, smoke rises from his hands. He squeezes, and the boys' faces screw up and their bodies try to cringe away from him.

They drop you. You're too amazed to worry about your stinging tailbone. Although, no, actually that does sting really bad.

Warren's expression is barely any different than his usual one. Which is to say, it's intimidating. But now his brows are furrowed in disgust as he glares at them.

The kids manage to wrestle out of his hold and run off before he can grab either of them again. Warren turns back to you. He sighs heavily.

"So. That keep happening?" He asks, with an almost uninterested tone. Almost.

You nod. He nods back, thinking, as he looks around them. Glares at the people who make eye contact.

He takes a deep breath. "Well, are you hungry or are you just going to sit there all day?"

"Oh!" You must look silly sitting on the floor like that. Probably an improvement to how you look being shoved into your locker, though. You wipe the tears from your cheeks discreetly and start to get up, when Warren grabs your arm and gently pulls you up.

He still looks bored when you're up and closer to eye level with him. But he can't fake nonchalance when he just stepped in to help you.

Your earlier thoughts come to mind. Your hero indeed. You're staring at him in awe when he clears his throat.

You're still both standing in the hall as bystanders walk past, uncaring, into the cafeteria.

"Sorry, yeah. Thank you. Again. Thank you so much." You smile your most grateful smile at him and he actually starts to look uncomfortable.

"I meant, are you going to lunch? They're gone." Warren stays standing in the hallway, waiting for your answer.

You can, now, you realize. You can actually go to lunch, and eat food, and not have your stomach complain at you the rest of the schoolday. You almost can't believe it.

"That would be nice." You say, in awe once again.

"'Kay. Go in then." Warren lifts his eyebrows and gestures for you to enter the cafeteria. You walk to the line and Warren follows behind.

After loading up your tray, you stand a few feet out of the line and stare out at the tables of kids eating and talking and laughing together. You don't know where to go now. There's only one empty table, and you watch Warren walk past you and sit down at it.

You look around for another few seconds before making a decision.

Warren looks up mid-bite as you put your tray down at his table. Place the pudding cup from your tray onto his. You look at him in silent question. He just stares at you for a moment, before returning to his food. He pulls the pudding a little closer to him. You take that as permission and settle down to eat.

Lunch is a quiet affair, but peaceful, and you find yourself smiling into your broccoli.

———

At first you think it might be a coincidence, when you start running into Warren right after the lunch bell rings. It could be a coincidence still, you think. But it's a coincidence that's happened every single day since he chased off those kids harassing you.

It could be a coincidence, but he sure does look like he's waiting for you, as he stands leaned against the hallway directly outside your classroom, and straightens up when you exit.

It could be a coincidence, you admit. Maybe. But you hope it isn't.

Each day you walk side by side to the cafeteria, as if you'd agreed to it. As if this was something you'd always done. You didn't, and you hadn't. You love it.

He's quiet, and brooding, and intimidating and lovely. These days you can't tamp down the fluttering in your stomach in fourth period as you anticipate the bell. A different sort of anticipation than you're used to. A good kind.

You try to dial down the smile as he looks over at you.

"What?" Warren frowns suspiciously.

"Nothing! Nothing. Just happy." You fold your hands together in front of you and hum as you head toward the food.

Warren lets you step in front of him in line and you each load up your trays before heading to a table.

Your table. Both or yours. You sigh happily.

It's technically, perhaps, just Warren's table. But since you sat with him that first time, you've continued every day since, and he hasn't shoo'd you off yet! It feels like a definite win.

"Hey Warren..."

Warren grunts in acknowledgement, shoving a fry in his mouth.

"Would you call us friends?"

He pauses in his fry-eating. Looks at you. Looks back down. Steals your jello.

"I mean. If that's what you wanna be."

You frown. Not as enthusiastic of a reply as would be optimal, but this is Warren you're talking to.

"Do you not want to be friends?" You can't help but ask. The evidence makes it seem ridiculous but you have to know.

He steals your plastic spoon and opens his pilferred jello. Speaks quietly. "If you want to be friends, we're friends, okay?"

It sounds like an admission to you.

"Are you sure you don't just like me for my food?"

Warren cracks a tiny smile, obviously relieved. "Who says I like you?"

"Little birdie" you grin coyly.

"Oh, and which bird would that be?"

You imitate a Blue Jay and Warren laughs.

thank you for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider reblogging/commenting, it means a lot ♡

[rilakeila]

intro: we challenge you!

host club au! jjk x fem!reader x ohshc

gojo satoru is the head of jujutsu academy's elite high school host club with his friends: geto suguru, nanami kento, itadori sukuna, shoko ieiri, haibara yu, and of course, their princess manager. what happens when they go up against another elite host club on an exchange event with different schools? let's find out!

a/n: incredibly self-indulgent. i cant decide to do an entire series or collection of one-shots. however, even if i do a series, i'm always open to do an au within au !! lmk if y'all have any ideas and hope you enjoy this one! also it's def ouran vibes with how the scenes work out like nonsensical manners with the petal entrances and random objects appearing out of nowhere

(y/n) was already tired.

she knew the exchange event would triple her work as manager for her dear beloved buffoons and their work as hosts, but she foolishly accepted their offer to go anyway. between scheduling their events, accepting payments for various fan meetings, and then coordinating with both schools to confirm times and clothing - she was ready to retire. pension required and isolation from known society appreciated. at least distance away from the menaces called gojo satoru and itadori sukuna.

for once, to their credit, they weren't fighting each other. damages would be at minimal cost. good for her and jujutsu academy's reputation. although these two were never very concerned about the school's reputation.

and that's why they were about to duke it out with an intensely frivolous blonde-haired second year and what looked to be a very feral set of twins in their first year.

"they look so hot but so scary," murmurs surrounded the two groups.

(y/n) couldn't help but sigh, attention always seemed to follow them as they go. satoru naturally reeled in the girls, which would lead into the rest of the boys and shoko being noticed, ultimately turning it into a free fan-meeting for new potential customers. she wondered how she came to this predicament anyways.

"well, i'll be back. i just need to confirm some things with the head of the event," (y/n) flipped through her clipboard of papers, signing some things off.

"do you need me to come with you?" kento questioned, adjusting his uniform.

she shook her head, "no, i'll be okay. what i need you to do is watch over these buffoons."

both looked at the buffoons in question. haibara and shoko were already taking pictures in front of the flowers. these two that were least likely needed to be watched.

"this place looks so old," satoru complained a little too loud, earning a head shake of disapproval from nanami and (y/n).

"not too loud, satoru. you really should be more polite and humble, even if it looks garish," geto stretched his arms out before placing it behind his head.

"there's no places for shade," sukuna grumbled.

(y/n) pressed her lips together, pulled a parasol out and covered the pink-haired host, "okay, i'll be back. no funny business, kento is in charge."

"who put you in charge? do you have no respect for your president?" satoru seated his head on the top of (y/n)'s head, arms wrapped around her. she can practically see and feel the pout on his face, rolling her eyes.

she grabbed sukuna's free hand, placing the parasol in his hand to hold ("hmph."). she charged her head up, injuring the prince's chin to free herself from his grasp, "well, mr. president, i suppose you would like to go over some paperwork for the event."

"mommaaa, she hit me," he cried to suguru, who just hit the backside of his head.

"we'll make sure to behave, princess. come back safe," suguru waved her off. (y/n) looked at kento who just nodded, knowing that he was the only one she could fully trust. both throwing a thumbs up to each other.

after (y/n) leaving, the rest of the host club wandered around the grounds of ouran. there were multitude of yellow dresses and blue blazers directing other schools and vendors. kento was leading the group, watching yu and ieiri to ensure that they didn't get lost as they indulged in the small events that the ouran students were hosting. he trusted sukuna would keep suguru and satoru in check, mostly satoru.

kento paused in his tracks, hearing squeals behind him, 'there goes the president again.'

"he's so hot!"

"take your glasses off!"

"alright, alright, ladies. there's enough of me to go around," the dramatic movement just to take his glasses off was enough for kento to sweatdrop. the squealing increased tenfold. typically, suguru would line up the girls at their school for uniformity for their president. however, it looked he was preoccupied with his own set of girls. then, sukuna. and there is yet another group of girls.

"honestly, that took a lot longer than i thought," yu said, standing next to kento.

"that was inevitable, girls always fall for them, somehow, someway," shoko twirled her hair around her finger.

"hmm... as long as they aren't causing too much of a ruckus. we should be fine," kento huffed, shaking his head when yu offered him the snack bag that the ouran students were handing out as "freebies." what a word to have.

though, their heads snapped to a sharp gasp next to them.

a blonde with his jaw snapped wide open fainting backwards, only for a pair of orange-haired twins to catch him as he fell back. "boss!"

other than the blonde and the twins, there seemed to be a middle schooler and a taller man. another had glasses, and well, one looked ambigious, feminine-leaning perhaps.

"doesn't the blonde remind you of someone?" yu whispered to them.

"yeah, someone that we know... can't seem to think of who it is" ieiri questioned with yu, thought bubbles practically seen above their heads as they thought long and hard.

"what happened to him, kyoya-senpai?" the feminine-looking one asked.

"it may be due to the fact that his customers have been stolen," the glasses one answered. kento recognized him, kyoya ootori, as his parents frequently invited the ootori family to the quarterly nanami galas as a thanks to the partnership of two families.

"my princesses! how dare they look at another man," the blonde immediately rose from the ground in a familiar way to kento, yu, and ieiri. a dramatic point was directed to satoru, "you, white haired student! have you come to steal my customers?"

"that should be our cue to go to them," kento lightly tapped ieiri and yu's shoulders, signalling them to head towards their members.

the chattering from the female ouran students silenced. it was also as if the red sea parted, a direct showdown line between the two groups.

this is how (y/n) ended up, almost crossing down the half. luckily, she looked up in time to stand with her club, sweatdropping in between. she eyed kento with a 'i thought you had it controlled,' which was responded with a head shake and shrug.

"customers? you called these beautiful ladies customers? what a shame. would never think that you were their prince. who might you be?" satoru pushed his sunglasses back onto his face, causing "aww's" of disappointment from the crowd.

"excuse you, i'm tamaki, the prince of the finest club of this school. the ouran host club, of course," he offered his princely smile and a rose to one of the female student bystander, who squealed and seemed to almost pass out.

"i got it, they're one of the same," (y/n) perked her ears up to ieiri and haibara whispering to each other, raising an eyebrow.

"host club? must have fooled me, there's an entire child in your group," suguru laughed as he directed the attention to the small child with the bunny in his arms, only to raise an eyebrow once he saw the taller one behind him straighten up.

"i assumed these ladies wanted someone mature, refined," sukuna showed his signature smirk to the ladies to his left, some fainting and some reaching for him.

"we are refined, right? men?" tamaki questioned with certainty in his voice.

"well, we offer brotherly love and boy lolita, i'm not too sure if that exactly counts as refined and mature, senpai," the feminine-looking one said.

"additionally, we have female hosts to those who are interested," it felt like lights highlighted (y/n) and ieiri when suguru mentioned their female host services.

"well, we technically also-" the twins' mouth seemed to be tied up by tamaki with a sheepish smile.

"so, really, what is the point of this? we have a whiny prince on our hands that can't accept the fact his ladies are talking to actual elite people, well in terms of taste," sukuna scoffed.

"you're right, kuna, why waste time with this nonsense of a host club when we can entertain the ladies here on the way to our next activity. manager princess, lead the way to where we have to go," satoru winked at the ouran host club before allowing (y/n) to take the reigns as she normally does.

she was too far lost other than knowing if ouran's host club is anything like the one she is in, their pride was certainly on the line. the last thing she saw before she turned around was a defeated tamaki with the twins fanning him, where had she seen that scene before?

"wait, we'll challenge you during this exchange event with whatever there is to offer to see who's the better host club," tamaki called out to them, still kneeling on the ground

gasps were heard from their audience. the jujutsu academy host club (more so the guys, ieiri and (y/n) could care less about a hurt pride) turned and eyed each other, reaching a consensus.

"hmm.. we never back down from a challenge. when and where can we discuss the terms?"

"music room #3, 3 p.m. sharp."

"we'll see you there."

(y/n) surely didn't know what she was getting herself into during this exchange event. everyday was already interesting enough with her own club. though, let's see what happens.

till next time !

intro completed.

[mitigatedchaos]

Kontextmaschine is Dead

(~1,000 words, 5m)

Noted blogger @kontextmaschine is presumed dead, following the discovery that the sole resident at his most likely residence was found deceased during a wellness check initiated by concerned Redditors.

Prior to his last post on Aug 22, which indicated a serious health problem, he reported taking over twice the dose of creatine he had been taking at the beginning of his lengthy post-COVID health saga, in which he also reported becoming bisexual, having "zero" anxiety, gaining 3D vision after years of not having it, becoming incredibly convincing, and having to learn to walk and use his muscles properly again. At the time, he felt he was becoming trimmer and physically stronger, and reported engaging in a long project of yard work, although photos from the inside of his house generally looked somewhat messy.

A Tumblr user who met him briefly in person after the beginning of the health saga but before these most recent events reported that he was friendly, charismatic, hospitable, and clean, but "physically, a mess," with motor control issues on one side of his body.

Topics of discussion were similar to the content of kontextmaschine's blog, such as differences in east and west coast government in America, said to be "totally on brand," but it was said that the prolific poster seemed "less self-grandiose" in person.

Redditors theorize that the decline of kontextmaschine's health following his first self-report of COVID-19 infection may have been due to undiagnosed brain cancer, which could be more consistent with observed changes in behavior than the after-effects of a viral infection, given that most reports of "long covid" are about effects like fatigue, and not total loss of anxiety or alteration of sexual orientation.

Despite multiple suggestions, from both anonymous and pseudonymous users, kontextmaschine refused to seek professional medical care for his condition.

Regarding the mourning of public figures, in 2018, a period of increased Progressive sensitivity during the Trump Administration, kontextmaschine wrote,

through the years realized that through whatever blind groping the ‘90s-ass “edgelords” were desperately trying to save us from this, through proper gatekeeping and filtering at first I’d thought it was gratuitous and supported it being relaxed, maybe not shaming everyone who publicly mourned a suicide, mea culpa, mea culpa, I have debts to pay

In 2019, he added:

That was how we kept the internet culture from growing mawkish and cry-bullyish: basically, if you were so weak as to get weepy over corpsemeat you got cancelled, the shame would follow you forever and you’d never be allowed to forget it.

Given his writing, it is likely that kontextmaschine would not have supported excessive public mourning over his death, though in 2017, following the theft of his motorcycle, when the popular blogger @argumate jokingly criticized him by writing, "no references to pinball, no insight into historical Americana, this isn’t the kontext I signed up for," kontextmaschine wrote,

“when bad shit happens people mock me accurately” is the community I’ve been looking for my whole life so

Like argumate, perhaps the most famous of the rationalist-adjacent bloggers on Tumblr, screenshots of kontextmaschine's Tumblr posts would end up on outside websites.

Kontextmaschine was generally considered an interesting, if controversial writer. One Tumblr user characterized him as a member of the "obnoxious Tumblr right," though another user asked, "wait, how is kontextmaschine is right wing?" After another user claimed that the nuclear bombing of Oregon would be a net improvement in the world due to kontextmaschine's residence in Portland, tumblr user @random-thought-depository wrote a 2,400 word theory post arguing that kontextmaschine's philosophy was a means to coordinate to join a future political coalition favoring the formation of a more brutal and oppressive hierarchy in pursuit of his own advantage.

Though kontextmaschine's ideology advocates that humanity should adopt "r-selection," meaning more offspring with less investment in each (or youth, sex, and death), this blog dissented against the coalition theory, arguing that motorcycles, kung fu, women, Hollywood, and not having to report to HR are all traditionally cool, and the causality of the kontextmaschine ideology could easily run the other way.

Though he had a period of identifying as female in his youth, appropriately LGBTQ for a Tumblr user, his 2011 statement of principles, including "the lesser yields to the greater" and "suffering is the mark of a wrong person," and general body of work, could be described as a strain of right-wing thought, though not of the traditionalist Christian or rational technocratic varieties.

Prior to the post-covid health saga, kontextmaschine's health posting was primarily about his bipolar disorder, with both manic and depressive phases.

Kontextmaschine maintained generally friendly relations with other bloggers in his sphere of discourse, sometimes debating but rarely aggressive, except in response to anonymous hatemail. In response to one particular piece of hatemail, kontextmaschine stated that as a writer, of course his primary form of influence would be his posts.

In a post chain reblogged by dozens of Tumblr users, multiple Tumblr users wrote that they enjoyed his writing and are disappointed by his death, describing him as a unique thinker that will not be easily replaced. Several felt that there was not much they could have done, as after returning from his covid infection, he was not taking medical advice.

One Tumblr user wrote, "rip. Inspirational manic poster," while long-time and prolific poster argumate described him as, "one of the bloggers of all time."

Internet users speculate that Kontextmaschine is survived by his outdoor cat, Badger, about whom he posted frequently. He may also be survived by other members of his family, with whom he apparently did not live, and rarely spoke about.

It is recommended that enthusiasts of kontextmaschine's blog make backups of his writing for archival purposes.

[luk3nk13r4n]

L: Awh, how could we say no to you. K: Here, take it. L: Where were we? Oh, right... K: 10, 9, 8...

pssssstttt. trick or treat? :DDDD

L: (๑>؂•̀๑) We have treats, but... K: ( •̀⩊•́ ) 'Trick' sounds nicer. L: You can choose which one you prefer, though. K: You either get popping candy... L: Or you have 10 seconds to start running from us. K: If we catch you, we get a treat. L: So, want the candy, or want to take a chance at being a final girl?

[h0nology]

Web Of Shadows

miles morales x black cat!reader

summary: when peter calls miles in the middle of the night to catch a thief, he wasn’t expecting you, his ex girlfriend.

warnings: use of y/n im sorry, fighting

requested by the lovely @scarlet-lady a while ago! obrigado pelo pedido maravilhoso 🥰🖤

it was late when peter woke miles up out of his sleep, urging him to meet him at the jewelry store where an active robbery was occurring. he hurried and put on his suit, sneaking out his window and quickly swinging to the jewelry store.

"who is this guy?" miles asked as he approached peter.

"girl," peter corrected him, "and i don't know. i just know that she's dangerous."

"nothing that we can't handle, right?"

peter just sighed, cocking his head to the side in doubt. miles waved him off, swinging down to the building and making his way in. the sirens blared and the lights flashed as he scanned the area. a few pieces were already missing, glass shattered on the ground.

miles crept through the store, his senses heightened. he could hear the faint sound of footsteps and the occasional clinking of jewelry being collected. he followed the noise, his eyes scanning for any sign of you.

as he rounded a corner, he caught a glimpse of movement. your figure dressed in a sleek, black suit was moving swiftly through the store, grabbing jewelry with precision and speed. miles swung down from the ceiling, landing lightly on the floor in front of you.

"hey!" he called out, trying to get your attention.

you paused, turning to face him. your mask covered most of your face, but he could see your eyes, sharp and calculating. you tilted your head, studying him for a moment before smirking.

"you must be the new spider-man," you said, your voice smooth and confident. "i've heard a lot about you."

"yeah? well, i haven't heard anything about you," miles replied, trying to sound as confident as you did. "but i know you're not leaving here with that jewelry."

you laughed softly, the sound echoing in the empty store. "we'll see about that."

with that, you lunged at him, moving with a speed that caught miles off guard. he barely had time to react, dodging your first attack by a second. you were fast—faster than anyone he had ever fought before.

miles tried to counter your attacks, but you were always one step ahead, dodging and weaving with an almost dance-like grace. he could see peter joining him, swinging down from the ceiling.

the two spider-men coordinated their attacks, but you were incredibly good, dodging their webs and strikes with ease. you moved like a shadow, slipping through their defenses and countering with precise attacks.

"this girl is good," peter says, dodging a swift kick from you.

taking a deep breath, miles focused on your movements, trying to anticipate your next move. he dodged another attack and managed to land a hit, knocking you back a few steps.

"nice one," you said, your smirk never wavering. "but you're going to have to do better than that."

miles felt a surge of determination. he couldn't let you win. all he had to do was focus, pressing the attack, using his agility and speed to keep up with you. you two traded blows, the sound of your fight echoing through the store.

finally, he saw an opening. with a burst of energy, he unleashed a venom strike, catching you entirely off guard. you stumbled back, electricity coursing through your body. miles quickly tried to web you up, but you recovered faster than he anticipated, dodging the web and flipping away.

"oh, that was good spider boy," you said, a hint of admiration in your voice. "but not good enough.”

before miles could respond, you pulled out a small device and threw it to the ground. a blinding flash of light filled the room, forcing miles and peter to shield their eyes. when the light faded, you were gone.

miles frantically looked around, trying to find any trace of you. he spotted you just outside the store, about to disappear into the night. desperate, he shot a web and managed to snag your ankle, pulling you back.

“you’re not getting away that easily,” he said.

you turned to face him and in a swift movement, you reached up and tore off his mask. miles froze, his heart racing as he stared into your eyes. recognition flickered in her expression.

“miles?” you whispered, disbelief in your voice.

miles stumbled back, shock and confusion warring within him. “y/n? is that you?”

you hesitated for a moment, then reached up and pulled off your own mask. tears glistening in your eyes as you revealed your face to him.

“i’m sorry, miles,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “i never wanted you to find out like this.”

miles shook his head, struggling to comprehend what was happening. “why are you doing this? why are you stealing?”

“it’s complicated,” you replied, pulling your mask over your face again. “but i have to go.”

before miles could say anything else, you cut the web holding you with a hidden blade. you blew him a kiss and disappeared into the night, leaving miles standing there, confused and heartbroken.

peter placed a hand on his shoulder, concern taking over his face. “miles, are you okay? what was that?”

“that was y/n,” miles said quietly, still processing what had just happened. “my ex-girlfriend.”

peter’s eyes widened in surprise. “and she didn’t know you were spider-man?”

miles shook his head. “no, and i didn’t know she was… this.”

“we need to find out why she’s doing this,” peter said.

miles nodded, “yeah. i will.”

˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚

this is just part one, guys! if you wanna be on the tag list comment below & pls leave feedback, i love reading comments 💕💕

[housederiva]

Lucanis lovers I wanna talk about the human brain in regard to sleep for a moment.

Sleep's one of the fundamental aspects about being alive, our bodies shut down without it. The longest recorded time somebody could survive without sleep was 11 days. Once the timer was up, his brain force quit his body and he collapsed. He would stop mid-sentence because he couldn't remember what he was saying

If you’re up for just 24 hours straight, you begin to experience the effects of sleep deprivation which is kind of like being drunk. Your inhibitions get lowered, you lose coordination, speech gets slurred and sentence (spoken and heard) don’t quite make sense. The longer the hours go, the more your mood will swing back and forth. Eventually you'll have auditory and visual hallucinations of varying degrees, your vision'll blur and everything'll feels heavy. Your head gets dizzy when you move it even the slightest bit and memory turns into sludge to the point you can’t recall what you were doing three seconds prior.

While we don’t know the severity of how long Lucanis stays awake or how or short the burst of sleep he gets are, but he’s nothing like what I just described

Lucanis is hyper perceptive, his speech is just like anyone else's and he’s extremely well-coordinated. That’s because he was raised as a Crow from a major house who was sleep deprived constantly from a young age.

But if you go too long at a time your brain gets to a certain threshold, an absolute extreme waaay past where any average person would ever get. Our brains become programmed with this sort of fall-back mechanism. It used to be that when we reached that level of exhaustion all the time because we were being chased by something that would kill us if we slowed or we needed to defend our young from wild animals or other dangerous humans.

A baseline survival instinct kick in. We go on autopilot in the most hyperaware way possible. Our sensory processing goes into overdrive and we start reacting to any and all stimuli as if it is actively trying to kill us. The 4 F’s (fight, fear, freeze, fawn) are all at max capacity at the same time.

Our brain becomes a deer that darts out in front of a car’s headlights, bobbing and weaving wildly before it bolts back into the bushes. In this instance the bobbing and weaving doesn’t stop. Until you get to the crashing point, you’re a vegetable with cognitive functions shutting down one by one to conserve energy. One of these functions is the ability to separate things that have happened from things that haven’t or the system that catalogs short term memory into long term storage, that's not great for someone in Lucanis' situation

Eventually you start going through microbursts of REM sleep, the deepest stage of sleep there is. When someone gets that far into sleep deprivation, these bursts can happen and the person affected will look completely awake. You wouldn’t even realize you were going through one. There might be comments about how you’re spacing out or just kind of staring off in the distance. Your brain is essentially power cycling so you don’t die. This is how people can 'sleep standing up' but in reality, you’re mentally clocking out and leaving your nervous system to hold down the fort. This disassociates you and your body to the point where you could laugh at the face of danger because your brain is over on stage left tap dancing along the line between sleep and consciousness and it can no longer differentiate between the two. You can feel unstoppable, like you could kill a god.

Or even doing this for a short period put you at risk for a lot of long-term health issues. Stroke or heart attacks, your nervous system rewrites itself. Mental disorders like memory loss or depression or anxiety follow... t’s a big old list of symptoms and at the very end is death.

Our brain’s core mechanic is being lazy, which is an incredibly good thing. Evolution's allowed our minds to be able to do incredible things in short bursts of activity before settling back down - we all know what burnout is but think of that times eleven.

I’ve lost where I’m going with this, but I just think the nights after Lucanis and Spite reach a level of understanding would lead to him sleeping for long periods at a time and that aspect of what he’s been through with Zara would never fully leave him regardless of how much time passes.

[owliellder]

The Finer Details

Post DI! Leon Kennedy x f! Painter Reader

MDNI 18+

(Session 1, Session 2, Session 3, Session 4, Session 5, The Reveal)

Description: Leon realizes that retirement is in his best interest now that he's getting older. All of his accomplishments as an agent mean he's truly earned a painting to commemorate..

Warnings: Not Proofread, Age gap! (reader is anywhere between mid-late 20's and Leon is 40), Porn w/ Plot, Use of she/her pronouns, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Alcoholism, mentions of trauma/PTSD/depression, P in V smut (wrap it NEOW), Leon cries during sex 💔

Tags: Older Leon Kennedy, Younger afab!Reader, Leon is SAD but he is your muse, Crying, mentions of Leon masturbating, starts off with Dom! Leon and Sub! Reader, falls into switch territory because that man needs some serious TLC, Praise kink, Hickeys, Handjob, Nipple play, Oral sex (m! and f! receiving), and a heavy dose of Aftercare

Final Word Count: 22.6k

Author's Note: Ta-da! I put a lot of work into this last chapter, like actually becoming the president for a couple hours, but I really wanted to make it worth everyone's time for sticking around and reading all the way through.

Thank you so much for following along! All the sweet comments from you guys never fails to make my day!

^//v//^

Cross posted on AO3

The Reveal

Almost three months.

It took almost three months for Leon's portrait to fully dry after it had been varnished. You'd checked it almost daily after the two month mark due to Leon's constant pestering. He was understandably antsy, and admittedly, you were too.

There was a lot of convincing involved, but you managed to keep the man at home while you transported the painting to the White House. He worried it would be damaged en-route. Such a little worry wart.

Setting up the painting's respective spot a column away from Chris and Claire's seemed very appropriate; tall, fake bushes sitting on either side of where it would be placed, a warm yellow bulb lighting up the inside of the decorative archway, and the patterned golden frame where the canvas would forever be now hung empty in that portrait hallway, waiting to be pieced together and completed.

The shiny gold placard had already been screwed onto the frame, words zapped on it via laser:

Leon S. Kennedy

USSTRATCOM Agent from 1998 - 2011

D.S.O. Agent from 2011 - 2017

You knew how long he'd been working as an agent, but it was still baffling nonetheless. Nearly 20 years of non-stop intense and usually very traumatizing work, what a feat.

Moving on, you'd worked out the plans for Leon's farewell party with the President and a few coordinators over the span of a few days, making sure to store the painting in a secure room for the time being. It was to stay covered with a violet piece of velvet cloth up until the reveal at the party, no one was allowed to see it besides you, the President, and the various security guards working the grounds.

After another two extra months of waiting, the farewell party was drawing near. There had to be enough time given for invitations to be sent out to people, wait for said people to RSVP, and allow travel time. And at this point, Leon was busting at the seams; extremely nervous, excited, and even a little scared at the prospect of it all.

Your words from that second painting session all those months ago never left his mind: "Seeing the portrait once it's finished is going to be an incredibly emotional ordeal. It's a reminder that this is truly the end of an era for you, Mr. Kennedy..."

The man clung to that, doing his best to internalize it and mentally prepare himself for what was to come. He was hoping you were exaggerating, but from what Chris, Claire, and even Jill have told him about their experience after the fact, he knew deep down that you'd seen it all too well before.

What Leon failed to realize was that he wasn't alone anymore. Sure he had his friends to help, but he'd never had someone to come home to everyday.

During the last few sessions, he had asked to stay with you at your apartment, citing the potential aftermath of the party as reasoning. However, you really didn't need him to explain his reasoning, you would've let him. Even if he just felt like it, you would've welcomed him with opened arms.

Besides, he'd already been staying at your place for longer periods of time over the months. You'd visited his house a few times, but he made sure to whine and complain about how bare and boring it was. If you remember correctly, Leon had said, word for word, that your apartment "felt like a warm hug". With that, he shelled up with you in only a couple weeks before the painting had dried. He made special effort to learn your routine, wanting to give you the space that you needed while also maximizing his time spent with you.

Leon was an actual angel, you were wholeheartedly convinced. Some days you would come home after working on another painting to the man cooking dinner, having bought an expensive wine to share with you. When your hands would start to ache and your back and shoulders were sore from the long hours spent holding a paintbrush in an awkward hunched position, he would set aside anything he had going on just to give you all the massages, kisses, and love that you could ever want.

Nothing was ignored when it came to you and your wants and needs. Leon admitted awhile back that he felt guilty for intruding on your space, though you were very quick to shut that down. He was far from a burden, actually lining up more with a dream come true.

And just like he did with you, you spared nothing while getting to know the in's and out's of the man that occupied your mind, heart, and home. You learned his favorite meals, watched his favorite shows and movies with him, returning the massages when he would return from the gym, and paid extra attention to how he liked to be held at night. Who would've guessed that the Leon Kennedy loved to be the little spoon?

What you spent the most time on was making sure to listen when he suddenly went on tangents about his past. They really did haunt him. You would wake up in the middle of the night to him huddled at the top of the bed, arms wrapped around his legs and head between his knees as he did his best to cry quietly. All you could do for him in those moments was pull him against your chest, gently rocking him back and forth while whispering sweet nothings, just until he felt either ready to talk or ready to fall back asleep. If he just wanted more comfort, then that's what he got, obviously.

He was only recently put on a couple medications to help him better manage his PTSD and anxiety since he really had to cut back on the alcohol in order to take them the way he needed. Definitely worth it to both you and him seeing as his nightmares lessened in intensity and frequency.

Now here you were, straightening out Leon's tie for him since his hands were failing him, nerves getting the better of him. He had taken his meds a few minutes ago, wanting to have the full effect during the party to combat any destructive behaviors during it, so it was no wonder his hands were still trembling.

"You're going to do so well, Leon." You smiled, giving him a gentle pat between his pecs after tucking his tie into his suit jacket. He was staring straight ahead, eyebrows furrowed with worry as he stared at himself in the mirror. "You've made so much progress and I couldn't be any prouder."

He licked his dry lips before slowly looking down at you, giving you the best smile he could, which was really just him pulling his lips back tight. If it weren't for you constantly being around to encourage him and push him to get better, he would not be able to attend his own farewell party.

How had he managed to get so far without this level of love and care? Where would he even be without you? Hopefully later when his mind isn't racing a million miles per minute, Leon will be able to tell you just how lucky he is to have you in his life.

Leon watched you in the mirror as you walked around to stand behind him, straightening out his suit jacket in random spots until deciding to just wrap your arms around his midriff, pressing the side of your face against his back with a content sigh. He brought his still-trembling hands up to hold onto your arms, rubbing his thumbs up and down across your soft skin.

His eyes settled back on his own face after staring at your arms linked around him, letting out a shaky sigh of his own as he attempted to just focus on this moment. You were perfect, ethereal, a true work of art. He wouldn't trade any of this for the world.

It took some time, about an hour, before Leon's medication was starting to kick in. You were definitely a big help, he couldn't give all the credit to his meds.

His relaxed demeanor wasn't easy to spot, the man was just naturally rigid, but you waited until he let you know that he was ready; ready to go to his farewell party, ready to see the portrait you painted for him, ready to put in the effort into accepting the next chapter in his life.

The drive to the White House was seamless, having been picked up in a blacked out SUV that held four personal guards, courtesy of the President. Leon wasn't going to complain, he actually kind of liked the pampering effect that came with being driven around by a dedicated entourage.

Almost all good feelings were drained from Leon when the car finally pulled up to the front of the White House where more guards stood waiting to escort the two of you inside. It was still early in the night, but the sun had set long ago, making for quite the beautiful atmosphere.

He could see numerous party attendees walking up the stairs, dressed up in their fanciest outfits for him. He held your hand the entire way up the stairs and into the entrance hall with a grip that was sure to leave your hand hurting. No matter, you could tell he needed you. That vice grip he had was well worth it for his comfort.

There were quite a few more people than either you or Leon expected. It seems as if all available agents, young, old, and retired, had been sent an invitation for tonight, along with quite a few high-ranking government workers. Luckily, this was a private event; no reporters, no news, only those who had been fortunate enough to be invited.

The first to spot you two was Chris who quickly made his way over to pull Leon into a bone-crushing hug, giving him a few solid pats on the back before letting go. Leon only reciprocated the hug with one hand, the other refusing to let go of yours, though his grip had loosened by now.

"Where's Claire?" Leon muttered, leaning to the side to scan over the sizeable crowd. "She's.." Chris turned around to also scan the crowd, squinting a bit as he looked. "She's somewhere. My wife is with her, her family, and Jill."

Leon pursed his lips with a curt nod, humming quietly in acknowledgement before standing straight again. He glanced down at where his hand held yours, squeezing it again for just a second as if to remind himself that you haven't gone anywhere.

Chris had turned back around to see the small gesture Leon gave to you, a coy smirk on his face. "What uhh... what's all this, huh?" He subtly pointed between you and the other man, voice lowered.

Leon cleared his throat and looked around to make sure no one was close enough to hear despite the volume in the hall. "... M'gonna save that for the-.. the speech." Chris just nodded, crossing his arms before slowly turning to look through the crowd again. "Alright, well, let me go find the family and bring them over before you're swarmed." And with that, Chris made his way back into the crowd.

Unfortunately, Leon had been spotted by the rest of the partygoers before Chris could return with everyone. Many pleasantries were repeated while also returning small talk with the people he recognized, which was a lot. You managed to avoid most of it, only being questioned a few times due to the rather obvious hold the man had on you. Despite having attended the last few parties like this, most people unable to recognize you as the artist. A blessing and a curse.

The next couple hours were spent eating finger foods, conversing with whoever, and enjoying the way Leon started to flow with the event. He soon found his way to Chris, Claire, their partners and kids, and Jill which really helped him loosen up. He needed the more familiar faces, having now let go of your hand fully to talk more animatedly with them. You made sure to stick by his side as long as you could, letting out a soft laugh every time you noticed his quick glances over to you to check if you're still there.

The time eventually did come for you to part with Leon, signaling a couple guards to follow you down a few hallways until reaching the room where the portrait sat, still covered with the violet cloth. The decision to keep it back here for so long was made by the President, wanting less of a sudden reveal and more of a build up.

Normally it would already be hanging in the entrance hall, covered and ready to be revealed, but not wanting to risk any potential damage, you were asked to hold off bringing it in until the President was ready to give the speech leading up to Leon's.

It'd been set in the golden frame rather quickly with the help from one of the guards that walked down with you. You had the guard to hold it up for you so you could give it one final good look before he was instructed to lead you back. After recovering, you took the portrait in both hands, holding it close as you were escorted back through the halls and into the main entrance hall.

By now everyone had directed their focus closer to the center of the back wall. Next to where the President stood, your own art easel was now set up. That was mostly as homage to you and it wasn't like anyone besides you would understand that it's yours, though Leon did pick up on that little feature. He'd been staring at the back of that thing for months, counted the various old streaks of paint on the pale wood over and over.

It made his farewell all the more personal, struggling to mask the feeling of the ever-growing pit in his stomach from the friends he was still standing next to.

The sound of a mic being tapped drew everyone's attention in to the President, the volume in the hall quieting to a whisper, soon completely silent as he began to speak into the mic;

"Ladies and gentlemen, I stand before you to honor and pay tribute to a true hero, a dedicated public servant, and a loyal friend who has served our nation with unwavering dedication for the past 19 years. It is with great respect and admiration that I address you on this occasion, as we bid farewell to a remarkable agent who has exemplified the very best qualities of service and sacrifice." As the President spoke, Leon held his breath, hands gripping onto his suit jacket to keep from trembling again.

At this point, you'd silently walked along the side with the guards from before, bringing the covered portrait up to the front before carefully placing it on your easel. "Throughout this nation's history, these agents have played an essential role in ensuring the safety and security of our nation's people and have consistently placed their lives on the line to protect the sanctity of our democracy. And today, we acknowledge one agent who has done so with unparalleled devotion."

"This retiring agent has been a silent sentinel, ensuring the continuity of our democratic ideals. Through countless hours of training, vigilance, and selflessness, they have demonstrated a level of commitment that is nothing short of extraordinary. But beyond their exceptional professional duties, this agent has been a friend and a confidant to those of us privileged to work alongside them. They have been a source of strength, a steady hand in turbulent times, and a symbol of the unbreakable bond that can form within the ranks of those who dedicate their lives to service."

You positioned yourself opposite of the President, placing your hands behind your back to keep your posture tall as you now smiled at the crowd, subtly scanning for Leon. His eyes were already on you when you found him, and your smile only widened further.

It prompted his own nervous smile, toying with the buttons on his jacket while turning his attention back to the President, wanting to remain respectful to his, honestly, very flattering speech so far. You followed Leon's eyes, seemingly having the same idea to just watch and listen.

"The sacrifices made by our agents often go unnoticed by the public, and that is by design. Their commitment to duty is matched only by their humility. But today, we pause to recognize and celebrate this retiring agent's dedication, valor, and sacrifice." The President continued to address the attendees in the room, giving you a quick nod before returning his focus to everyone in the entrance hall.

The President outstretched his hand towards Leon standing in the crowd, now staring at him with a prideful yet relaxed look. "To Mr. Leon S. Kennedy, our retiring agent and loyal friend, thank you for your 19 years of dedicated service to our nation. May your retirement be filled with the peace and contentment that you so richly deserve. You leave behind a legacy of honor and courage that will never be forgotten." The crowd of attendees clapped and cheered briefly, causing Leon to reach his hand up to wipe across his face. A poor way to hide his red face. He's done that before, hasn't he?

Once the crowd quieted back down, the President finished his speech with a classic, "May God bless you, your family, and may God continue to bless the United States of America. Thank you" before the crowd picked back up cheering and clapping. You clapped along with them, laughing at Leon's flustered expression. He could barely hold back his smile, not really have expecting to be so well recognized for his service.

Leon's queue to make his way to the front was when the President walked over to stand next to you, making sure not to block the covered portrait from anyone's view. He'd recited this speech to you countless times, even more to himself when he was alone, but all those eyes staring at him were causing him to fumble. He messed around with the mic once he was standing in front of it, and that was your queue to walk over and stand next to him, placing a loving hand on his forearm.

That's all he needed, just a little extra encouragement from the person he relied on the most. His speech was short and straight to the point, never having been a man of professional word, yet he still managed to slip in some words of praise for you and all the help you provided him during his rough patch earlier in the year.

Neither you or Leon had outright said it to each other, let alone to anyone else, but hearing him announce to the entire hall of people that you were his girlfriend made your heart soar. Speaking about you calmed his nerves, and he wanted everyone to know just how lucky he felt, like he'd hoped for earlier.

He bent over slightly to whisper in your ear, covering the mic with his hand to make sure it didn't pick up his voice. "Now, why don't you go ahead and show us all that masterpiece you spent months working on?" Oh, now you were the flustered one, giggling nervously as you gave his arm a gentle squeeze before walking over to where the painting sat on the easel.

"Ladies and gentleman," Leon's eyes followed you as he straightened his posture out, speaking into the mic once more with a wide smile gracing his features, "I'm honored to have the wonderful artist herself present my very own portrait to you." As he spoke, you carefully lifted the cloth from where it was draped over the painting, finally revealing the ever-awaited portrait to everyone.

Just like with Chris and Claire's, Leon was sat in that soft maroon chair, slightly off center, but his position was different with his right ankle rested atop his left knee, elbows on the arms of the chair while his hands rested in his lap, fingers interlaced. His smile was soft and partially crooked while he looked forward with relaxed eyes, a few strands of hair painted to sit in front of his brow. And to tie it all together, it had a lovely green background, a dark forest green as the base while a sage green was used to add texture. The vintage look had always been your favorite, and Leon fit it so perfectly. He was nearly timeless.

Many "ooo's" and "ahh's" were heard amongst the clapping from the crowd, along with a handshake from the President. Before you could turn to face Leon, you felt his arms slowly slink around you from underneath your arms, the weight of his head now pressing down on your shoulder. You could feel his grin when he tilted his head to kiss your jawline, beginning to gently rock you side to side. Getting to show off your work was always so rewarding, but just knowing Leon was handling everything so well was a feeling you'll truly never forget.

He was happy. That's all you ever wanted for him. The man has truly earned his portrait in that agent hall of fame.

The portrait was soon brought down to the aforementioned hall to be hung up and displayed for good, a few small groups trailing down to get a better look at it. Chris was the noisiest about it, telling Leon it looked like it belonged above a grand fireplace, to which said man agreed with.

Chris, Claire, Jill, and their respective families stared at it for quite some time alongside Leon and you. They all chatted while Leon stared quietly, taking in every little fine detail you'd added. You changed his position some, and did he really smile at you like that? He really did look lovestruck. Of course only he could tell that. Hopefully.

He surprised himself with how okay he felt after seeing the painting. You warned him multiple times that it would most likely be overwhelming and emotional, and while it was, it wasn't in a bad way. The most compelling thought he had right now was to just sweep you off your feet and smother you with love.

Leon asked one of the guards to take a picture of him with everyone, including you, in front of his portrait. Then, just a picture of you and him standing in front of it, easily becoming the background on his phone.

The party went on for only an hour or so more before people started to trickle out. You and Leon were some of the first to leave, saying all your thanks and goodbye's with hugs and handshakes.

The moment the two of you walked into your apartment he practically pounced on you before the door had shut, large hands gripping tight on your hips as he sloppily made out with you. He just had to show his gratitude for all your hard work.

Your lips tasted so sweet and your soft little moans were driving him wild, he couldn't help the groan that rumbled from his chest. Full blown sex had been held off by you, not wanting to rush him into anything while you helped him manage his problems. Honestly, he was glad you'd held off on him, because now that he was feeling like his own person again, it made waiting all the more fulfilling.

Leon hoisted you up into his arms after you'd kicked your heels off, holding onto the back of your thighs as he carried you to the bedroom. You wrapped your arms around his neck, giggling against his lips as he carefully navigated around the short hallway and into the bedroom.

You looked so good splayed out on the bed for him, that beautiful dress you chose was insanely flattering on you. It had to go though, so after yanking off his jacket he made quick work of your dress, fumbling with the zipper for a moment before pulling it up and over your head. Your bra and panties didn't last either. He'd only gotten to see you naked a couple times before, but god, he'll never get tired of seeing you this way, acting all shy like you weren't his favorite view.

Leon was so eager to get his hands on you that he neglected to take off his suit, opting instead to hover over you and bury his face into your neck. He wasn't a good artist, but he loved to cover your neck in shades of red and purple like you were his own little painting, akin to leaving his signature all over you.

He only pulled away once you tugged on his hair, listening to your begs and pleas for him to get his clothes off. As much as he wanted to prolong this night and tease you, he couldn't hold himself back. He needed to feel your soft skin against his.

"So perfect." Leon mumbled against your skin, licking and kissing his way up your stomach and to your breasts after practically ripping off his clothes. His hands found their way back to your hips, pressing them firm against the bed to keep you from squirming away as he nipped at one of your nipples, pulling it into his mouth.

He moaned as he sucked and circled his tongue around your nipple, his eyes falling closed. The other couldn't stay neglected, so he brought one hand up to pinch and tug at your other nipple, sighing when he felt your body press against his as you arched at the sensation. He loved when your moans would pitch, so cute.

His cock was pressed against the inside of your thigh, rutting against it when you would tug at his hair. Once he decided your nipples had enough attention, he sat up and grabbed the backs of your knees to place around his waist. The new position offered Leon the perfect opportunity to drag his leaking cock through your folds, pressing it down with his thumb so the tip would nudge your clit with every slow thrust forward.

You were so wet, so delicate. He could've fucked you right then, slid right into that juicy little pussy, but he needed to take care of you first. He would never forgive himself if he hurt you.

Reluctantly, the man pulled his dick away from you, letting out a poorly concealed whine at the loss. He ran his hands up your thighs before moving one hand so he could circle your clit with his thumb, the other hand back on your hip to keep you steady.

"L-eon~!" You brokenly moaned out, pleading to him with your watery eyes. You needed more; his fingers, his cock, anything. He couldn't say no to that, stopping his assault on your clit to drag his middle and ring finger through your drenched folds to wet them properly. He brought your right leg to sit over his shoulder, hand gripping the top of your thigh as he leaned forward, studying your face closely as he gently teased the outside of your slit with his middle finger.

He moaned with you as he slid his finger in, keeping his eyes trained on you as he started to tentatively thrust his finger in and out. "Yeah?" Leon whispered, licking his lips as you barely managed to nod. "Yeeeaah, there's my girl..." The rumble in his voice was music to your ears.

His ring finger was soon slid in next to his middle finger, switching between scissoring you and making a partial 'come here' motion with them. After only a couple minutes you were leaking all over his hand and the bed, the wet sounds of your pussy mixed with your moans making his cock jerk and drip with precum. Leon clenched his teeth as he slowly pulled his fingers from you, immediately bringing them to his mouth to suck off your juices. He let out an audible sigh after swallowing, repositioning his dick to slide through your folds a couple more times before nudging your hole with the tip.

"Look at me, baby..." Leon's hushed demand brought you to open your eyes, if only half way. He made eye contact with you before leaning forward further to kiss you, all the while finally pushing into you. He soaked in your gasp, his eyebrows furrowing as you tensed up. "Relax.. let me in~..."

"It's only me.." He panted, tilting his head to kiss the corner of your mouth as your eyes shut again. "It's only me, baby..." he repeated this a few more times as he eased his cock inside of you, the stretch only stinging for a moment before it turned to pleasure. He filled you perfectly, you could feel every bit of him, especially with his right hand adding a bit of pressure to your stomach.

Leon sat still for a minute to give you time to adjust, taking the way you moved your hips as a sign to move. He pulled out, all the way to the tip, before slowly thrusting back in. He managed to choke out a quiet "Fuck-.." when you clenched around him. "Taking me so well.. such a big girl~.."

He always knew just how to talk to you, making sure to take his time buttering you up. You were putty in his hands, and between his words and the feeling of him reaching so deep inside of you, you could barely think.

It didn't take long for him to start to lose his composure, the sound of wet skin slapping together filling the room as his thrusts intensified. "All mine. All for me." The grip he had on your thigh was sure to leave a bruise, but that was the last thing on your mind.

The hand he had pressing on your stomach moved further down so he could circle your clit with his thumb again, jaw tight as he looked from your blissed out expression to where his hand was playing with you. "Oh fuck! That's it!" Leon growled, eyes glued to your cunt as he plunged in and out of it. "Cream this dick, mamas~... Cum on my cock so I can fill this pretty pussy up.."

The way you gasped and moaned when you came was enough to warrant a noise complaint, but screw your neighbors. You needed this just as much Leon did.

"Oohhh fuck yeah.. Milk me, baby~... shit-" Leon's thrusts stuttered to a stop while pressed flush against you, abs flexing as he pumped ropes of cum into you. Once you managed to open your eyes, all you could do was stare at the man, flushed pink and sweaty, sitting between your legs. Both of you moaned in tandem as he pulled out, Leon groaning to himself as he watched his cum drip from your pussy. Truly a work of art meant for his eyes only.

He leaned over you again to plant a quick kiss on your lips, chuckling when he felt you smile. "Let me go grab something to clean you up, okay?" You could only nod in response, reaching your hand up to caress the side of his face before he stood up from the bed. He walked across the hall into the bathroom, wetting a soft rag with warm water before making his way back over to you.

Leon made sure to be gentle when cleaning you, the warmth from the rag soothing your tender skin. You were able to sit up on your elbows and watch him, using his gentle touches as a way to calm your still racing heart.

After wiping himself off with the rag, he tossed it over in the general direction of your laundry basket. It was a problem for later. Right now, he wanted lay back on the bed and pull you up so you could lay on top of him. Along with just how nice it felt to hold you, he loved the weight of you on him. So that's what he did, pulling you onto him after laying on the bed, running his fingers though your hair on the back of your head.

"Leon." You muttered against his collarbone. His eyebrows raised, yet his eyes were closed. "Mm?" His right eye peaked open when he felt you giggle. "What?"

"I love you." His fingers paused their ministrations at your words. You lifted your head up to look at him, growing worried with his shocked expression. "Sorry, is that too-" you choked on your words, stopped mid-sentence by Leon's arms suddenly squeezing the breath out of you with a very tight hug. He pulled you up just a little further so he could smush his lips against yours.

"I love you too!" He breathed out excitedly. "You don't know how long I've been waiting to tell you!" You tapped his arm and he immediately relaxed his grip, mumbling a small, "Sorry, my bad.." when you took in a deep breath.

"You're adorable, Leon." You shook your head with a smile, brushing the hair from his face to give him a much gentler kiss before settling you head back against his chest with a quiet sigh.

Leon was still a tough man, but you made him soft. Only ever soft for you.

Side note: I totally forgot to add in the pussy eating i am so sorry. i thought i did but it was literally just a thought that never manifested 😭

tags!: @greywardensaywhat @xkittiecatx @httpsuguru @httpsuguru @k-fallingstar @lysa1201 @bobastayhigh @pocketstoriesstore @agent-dessis-posts @klee-iii @missjoenowhere @mi-zer-y @bigtiddiesimp @finsternisle @sweets3rial @sodacolablast (there's a few of you that tumblr wouldn't let me tag for some reason)

[valenteal]

So Dabi and Toga joined the League together and Dabi and Compress work together really well, like know one another’s moves and can communicate great in battle. And Dabi is Tomura’s lieutenant and basically the guy actually in charge of planning and coordinating while Tomura’s got the vision and the resources. So I propose that the loyalty of the League is split between them. Cause like, what if Dabi joined and brought other recruits with him. Toga and Compress definitely, maybe Magne and Twice too. And that’s part of why Tomura lets him get away with so much and put him in charge of recruiting. Cause let’s be real, Dabi fries way too many people for him to keep that job if doesn’t already have some successes under his belt.

Anyway this post is a mess and I’m just gonna keep typing my train of thought about this and see where we end up now.

I just really love the partnership between Tomura and Dabi. It’s kinda hidden and definitely never explicitly stated, but Dabi is indisputably Tomura’s right hand man. Kurogiri follows his orders. But Tomura respects Dabi, and Dabi respects Tomura even if they suck at showing it. They listen to each other and are able to work together, sharing responsibility and trusting the other to be able to handle their shit. There’s still some friction of course, Tomura doesn’t trust Dabi’s interests to always align with his own and Dabi is only following Tomura because their interests align at the moment. And with like half the League being more loyal to Dabi than Tomura he’s gotta be a bit worried about a coup. That fear fades with time once he establishes that he actually cares about the league and shows it better than Dabi but it probably really affected their relationship at the beginning. Thus Tomura’s clumsy attempts to assert dominance over him

Also Dabi and Compress are totally tight. Pretty sure they were partners in crime before joining the league. Like imagine the possibilities with their quirks. Evidence disposal, theft, smuggling, intimidation, scams together the two of them could do anything! Compress has his anonymity, Dabi had his incredibly recognizable and scary face… they would be great.

[jdboy2000]

Come hang out at the Week 4 #YouTube #livestream for the Macabre: a horror short by Zack Cherry & Erik Champney #Kickstarter #campaign tonight at 8pm EST!

The livestream will be on co-writer/co-director Zack Cherry's YouTube channel at

https://www.youtube.com/live/sSAgA5FE3QQ?si=nqF70v5M4g8EMVxQ

Actress Chavon Hampton will be joining Zack Cherry, Erik Champney, Randy Borruso, and China Perruccio this week!

They are also dropping and exciting new add-on for their Kickstarter campaign during the livestream!

If you would like to check out more info about the Kickstater, the link is

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/randyborruso/macabre-a-horror-short-by-zack-cherry-and-erik-champney

"Macabre" has officially reached $41,000.00 raised, but they aren't stopping there. They have plenty of stretch goals as well. Currently, they are seeking to raise another $9,000 to pay for a professional stunt coordinator and for fees and travel associated with showing at film festivals.

You, too, could be part of making the future of horror! Horror made for fans by fans.

I hope to see you all come out and support the making of this incredible #horror/#slasher short film project.

Thank you to everyone who has already pledged to the campaign and shared the links!

Feel free to share the links and spread the word about this campaign. All of this is only possible thanks to people like you!

If you would like to follow "Macabre" on other social media or to sign up for email production updates, go to:

www.macabreshortfilm.com