#it gave you three abilities but actually you could have up to 12!

[lithosaurus]

While we're in BioWare fan crisis 393/??? I want to plant my flag firmly in the 'Mass Effect: Andromeda is actually really good' camp.

There are places the writing doesn't hit. There's spots where mechanics or production aren't 100% but the game as it is now is still a legitimately fun game with compelling characters, slick combat, and an interesting narrative.

It's always going to have the specter of ME3 looming over it. The release will always ruin it for some. I totally understand the arguments that the colonial themes needed to be re-examined but the biggest flaw for me will always be that it didn't get it's sequel.

Some character arcs were underwhelming because they could have been finished in the sequel. Things were left unanswered because there was going to be a sequel. Even the sticky dark heart of the colonial issues could have been further explored in a sequel. Annoying amounts of sequel bait? Coulda been fixed with a sequel.

The launch and subsequent poor sales destroyed what, to my estimation, could have been a serious inheritor to the Mass Effect name and a legitimately amazing game series.

[hazelfoureyes]

A Doe in Fall (Part 13)

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

A burlesquer with a penchant for conning men, you find your latest game interrupted when your next mark saves you from an aggressive fan— by killing him. The chance encounter left you curious, still half convinced you could complete your normal chase. Unbeknownst to you, you were the one being tracked.

Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦 Part 7 - Recognition smut💦 Part 8 - Trust sexual 🥵 Part 9 - Shiny Things Part 10 - Good Deeds Part 11 - Caught Part 12 - Eddie Part 13 - The Release 📍

Late? Yes. Buuuuut

If ya missed it:

Oct 19th Kinktober Day 19 - Proffer smut💦 Oct 13th Kinktober Day 13 - Handled smut💦

Where we left off: Autumn got released from the station to learn Alastor is at an unknown place called the Golden Dish.

Part 13 The Release

Two idiots meet on a sidewalk, one is drunk and one is stressed. Angst ensues. First Half is reader’s POV, second is Alastor’s POV.

「Warnings/Promises: Human Alastor x Fem!Reader, two parts in one, still not smut cuz we’re waiting for the special moment, surprise Latin, Alastor drunkenly remembers his accent, angst, first fights, muffled confessions, bare feet, too much alcohol, Mimzy is her own tag, I promise she’ll be back」

MDNI 🥃 😵‍💫

The Release (Autumn)

Your relief Alastor wasn’t there was clouded by the slight hurt Alastor wasn’t there.

Any ability to mask your true feelings left you with the exhaustion of being arrested at work, in front of customers and companions alike. This was made obvious by Johnny’s slight pat to your shoulder, “Want me to walk you there?”

You shook your head. Everyone already knew too much. 

“It’s not too far, I think… I’ll be fine.” You could imagine Alastor’s panicked face. Had you ever actually seen it though? 

With a wave, you left Johnny and began the walk to, presumably, the Golden Dish. It was cold, already the night bringing a chill. Eyes to your feet, you realized you were still in her shoes. 

Where had she walked in New Orleans? Where did she meet Alastor’s father? You had to wonder what he had looked like. Surely he was handsome. Was he kind to her, like Alastor was to you? Or had it been a one night stand?

A small smile, she didn’t look like the type but looks could be deceiving. Alastor didn’t look like the kind of man who kissed bloodied cheeks and tossed heads into holes.

Flipping the card over again, you lifted it to the light. 

Tentatively you brought it to your nose and gave it a sniff. No perfume. 

The list of possibilities ran wild. 

You knew he wasn’t a virgin, and he’d mentioned before he’d been happily coupled with others before his preferences became their frustrations. But you’d never stopped to really imagine it past a fleeting image. Alastor kissing someone else. Alastor going down on someone else. Did he enjoy it as much as he enjoyed you?

It wasn’t necessarily jealousy, but your stomach did a little flip. Did they properly express their gratitude? Doubtful. How many times did he acquiesce to his partner’s wants and then be treated like it was the expectation and not an exception of his affections?

It wasn’t as late as you had thought and the streets were busy. It made you feel a little safer. Not having a purse helped that.

You weren’t entirely sure where Rosseau was, and after stopping a very lovely looking couple, you got hastily pointed toward the water. Anxiously, you kicked up your pace. The closer you got, the more nervous you were to see him. Not knowing how he felt, be it angry or worried or a mix of the two, was doing you in. Turning left, you practically jogged down the street in search of The Golden Dish.

On the first pass, you didn’t find it. You crossed the street and tried again, getting more of the buildings into sight. Nothing.

Crossing back, you found the door with a shiny golden number three.

The restaurant looked nice, but it wasn’t the Golden Dish. The name above the door was Grano D'oro.

You leaned into the alley, hoping maybe there was a man waiting with a secret door. It was pristine; no men, no trash, no mystery liquids.

Taking a moment to smooth your hair and adjust your dress, you walked in.

The entrance was lavish, the floor a black and white marble and fixtures that shined like gold. A man stood behind a host stand, looking at you expectantly. When you were within a few feet, he asked if you had a reservation.

“Uh, no. I’m looking for Alastor.”

“Does Alastor have a reservation?” He looked down, presumably at a paper of names, and then back up at you.

You looked past the parted red curtains into the dining room. “I don’t think so…ah! I have a card.” You handed it over and he gave it a look, flipping it over before nodding. “Just a moment, miss. Please wait here. You’re welcome to use the ladies room to clean up.”

From insulted to panicked, you realized you’d forgotten about your face. Pushing the heavy wooden door open to the bathroom, your reflection caught you off guard. Your eyes were encircled in black, scleras red, blush smeared into your hairline, and your lips were soft around the edges from misplaced lipstick. You looked like a wreck in human form.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck,” you grabbed a tissue from the nearest stall and wetted it under the faucet, removing every bit of make up you could. The skin under your eyelashes still had a darkness to them and nothing could be done for the bloodshot eyes, but you let that go. You did away with the lipstick entirely, and most of the blush was out of your hair and off your cheeks. Now you just looked tired. 

Mortified, you remembered the couple you’d stopped and asked for directions from. They must have thought you’d had a fight or were some loon. Hell, maybe that was why no one stopped to bother you.

With one more glance at your disheveled appearance you sheepishly returned to the entrance and peeked into the dining room again. Everyone was dressed so nicely. You could imagine Alastor fitting in quite well. The host returned, not saying a word and sans Alastor. Before you could find the courage to ask him anything, a hand smacked your arm from behind.

“I thought you’d be more fatale and less femme. Anyways, your deadweight’s in the alley.” 

A small woman with bleach blonde hair had snuck up behind you, seemingly from the outside, “He’s got his card back. He’s your problem now!”

She brushed past you and disappeared into the restaurant.

“Have a nice evening.” The host dismissed you. A confused pause, the series of events had been so fast you were left quite literally spun around. 

When you tentatively turned back to leave, you saw Alastor stumbling onto the sidewalk. 

“Hey! Alastor.” You half shouted, Alastor seemingly unaware of his surroundings. Apparent in how he nearly collided into a group passing the restaurant.

He turned, smiled, and rushed towards you. Taking your head in his hands he kissed you on the lips, and when you pulled back he leaned in, tongue pressing into your mouth.

You screamed into his mouth, pushing him off. Looking back briefly before dragging him away, you saw the host staring at you through the clear windowed door. He was not impressed. As much as you enjoyed his kisses, it was out of character and out of class to make out on the sidewalk. 

Parks were different. Parks were made for such things. 

“What has gotten into you? You taste like a fucking distillery.” You reached the corner of the street and stopped, “Where’s your car?”

He was drunk. Completely smashed. Normally you wouldn’t care, drunk Alastor could be quite cute. But you’d been prepared for and in need of someone to talk to. Someone to ease the mess of feelings in your gut. Instead you were handed a job as caretaker and impromptu driver. You’d have to wait until the morning for any kind of sympathetic comfort. 

He hadn’t even mentioned the arrest yet or asked you how you were. Yes, he looked elated to see you. Eyes wide and adoring when he took you by the face. But you needed more than adoration now. And instead you had a mess of a man struggling to maintain his balance.

On the safety of his porch, or perhaps together at a bar, it’d be just fine. 

But this was neither safe nor fine. 

Alastor pulled his arm from your hold, “At that little park. Audubon.” He pointed west, saying it with a perfect accent. “Anyway, I’m gonna kill him. Maybe right now! Did I tell ya? I know where he lives.” He crossed the street without looking. 

You had to run to catch up to him, his long legs carrying him further and faster than you. It took a second to understand who he was talking about, clearly he’d been having a silent conversation until now. “Alastor. You’re drunk. No.” You managed to get in front of him, eyes surely begging.

“Alastor, yes. He’s got two kids, a wife. He stays out late, obsessin’ over us no doubt.”

“Alastor!” He stumbled past you and toward the park. “Hey. You can’t-,” 

He wheeled around on his heels, hand pointing a sharp finger at you. 

“Who are you to stop me? To tell me,” a pause as he lost his balance and leaned too far to the right, catching himself with a sneer to his own legs. He turned back and continued on his way, “what I can and cannot do.” You stopped. The sound of his mother’s shoes no longer snapping behind him made Alastor pause his clumsy march and look back at you. “Are ya really not comin’?” His sharp tone had shifted down to a whiny, almost pleading one.

“Who am I, Alastor?” In the past you’d try to hide when you were wounded, as prey animals often do. But you were different from who you were before. Already, you were changed. Hiding yourself from him felt like betrayal, so you’d abandoned it some time ago. Your chin quivered, hands gripping the sides of your dress in stress. Your eyes were pleading with him to not do this. To not throw you away so easily. Diminish you with one slurred sentence. It felt like a dare to your pride. A choice, your self respect or his attention. It was a rhetorical question, as the answer would be a revelation to an entirely different quandary. 

He laughed, “Now who’s drunk?” Your arms crossed your chest and your eyes narrowed further into slits. 

“I thought you’d stop if I asked. I thought I was your equal in this.”

“Well!” He gawked, “This is different. He isn’t like the others. Mister Detective Kenneth Brady is-,” he practically yelled it into the night.

“Shhh!” You hissed, a couple crossing the street to put distance between you both and themselves, “Give me your key. You can’t drive like this.”

Alastor stared you down, his height finally mattering in a way you didn’t like. 

Your eyes narrowed further, Alastor. Unspoken and yet screamed across the sidewalk. You weren’t scared of him, of his height or his sharp eyes or the fact you knew he so often carried a knife beneath his vest. No. Because he was a smart man and a smart man would never be so stupid as to physically harm you. Not unless he planned to kill you. And Alastor wouldn’t do that unless you were honestly bad.

The only way he could ever truly hurt you was with that cutting muscle behind his teeth. 

He tried to straighten his back to gather some kind of dignity and perhaps a show of dominance but stumbled backwards. He caught himself again with the brick wall beside him. 

Mind racing, you had to think of alternatives. Fight him for the keys? Cut into his tires? Just leave him to his own selfish devices? 

He could afford to fix the rubber tires, you thought. You couldn’t afford him running off the road. 

“If you want me to come with you, I am driving. Make your decision now.” You put your hand out, an indication there was only one answer you expected. When his eyes flitted from your palm to your face and stared blankly, you closed it. “I won’t let a man waste my time when I’m just trying to help him. You’ve got me confused with someone else.”

Turning around, you walked the way you’d both just come because truth be told you had no idea how to get home from where you were. You just needed to get away from him before you said something you didn’t mean. Before he said something you couldn’t forget. 

You’d barely gotten five steps when you heard a clank to the ground. Turning just enough to see behind you, you noticed the car door key on the sidewalk. Alastor’s grin wide and childlike.

Never had you felt true anger for him before. The water rising in your chest raged against your ribs and you were sure you’d drown in your own fury before long. Another second of imagined possibilities — kick them into the storm drain, throw them into a bush, take them and leave entirely.

Before you could pick one he stumbled over while bent in half the entire time, scooping the keys and holding them out for you to take.

A list of names flew over your tongue but stayed behind your clenched teeth, snatching the keys from his hand and leaving him to struggle behind you. 

The walk was silent, Alastor several paces behind you with his hands in his pockets.

He slumped against the passenger side window the entire car ride home. You struggled with the shifting stick, and he didn’t offer any help. A petulant brat pouting into the glass.

As soon as you’d gotten into the house Alastor made a sloppy beeline to the sofa and fell face first.

“You’re mad at me.” You said from the doorway, dropping his keys into the bowl beside the door. It felt odd, you were the one who had every right to be pissed. But he was showing it in a much more egregious way. His anger made the least sense to you. 

“No. I’m mad.” He grabbed a pillow and tucked it under his head. “Full stop.”

Obviously, but why? Not an ounce of compassion could be managed for you? When you were the one who’d been humiliated and dragged from your place of work in handcuffs? 

“You’re acting like a child. Go to your bed. I’ll sleep here.” Sleeping alone in his bed didn’t seem right.

“You’re talkin’ to me like a child.” He closed his eyes, apparently in a fake sleep.

“You really don’t see the connection between those two things?? Atleast— go to the guest bed.” His mother’s old room. You absolutely didn’t want to sleep there. 

“No.” He didn’t look at you. 

You stared for a moment, disbelief painted on your face as your own frustration swelled again.

“Suit yourself. I don’t have patience for this, Alastor. You’re acting like a brat when I’m the one who had the hard night.” You turned to go upstairs before coming back, something your mother always did in arguments that you hated, “And I really don’t appreciate the way you’re treating me. We’ll talk in the morning.”

He didn’t even stir.

After placing his mother’s shoes at the end of the bed, you got undressed and properly washed your face. It wasn’t until you were under the covers, alone, did you begin to cry. It was mostly anger, if you were honest. But a good dose of self pity mixed in. Practically running to find him, after thinking about just him for hours before, and to be met with a drunken child was disappointing beyond measure. And the disrespect of tossing his keys…

The bed felt so big and so foreign now. Just sitting in it made you feel like shit. A stranger, unwanted in someone else’s home. You could remember the uneasy feeling you had when your mother would leave you with friends when she had work. How every inch moved felt like you were brushing into poison ivy, it wasn’t your space, you didn’t know the rules or the norms. Now you felt you no longer knew your place in Alastor’s home. 

If you weren’t scared you’d never see him again you’d have just walked the several hours home. Knees to your chin, you didn’t bother with wiping away your tears. It added to the wallowing you were experiencing.

What did he mean? Why would he say it like that? Had it been a lie the whole time, that he’d stop killing if you asked him to? Alastor had never hissed quite like he had then. 

It felt like a lie, and now you questioned everything. Maybe while you worked he was out killing people. You never pushed him much about what he did while you were away.

A secondary thought simultaneously played with that one. No, you’d have noticed him at night taking care of the body. Your face slipped past your knees and pressed into the tops of your thighs, as quickly as the fear receded your melancholy swept back in.

Fine, but if he lied about stopping then you didn’t mean as much as he claimed.

Which was fine, you lied to yourself. You just needed to know the parameters so you could stay within them. Not take things too seriously. Not expect too much from him.

Not give too much of yourself. 

A second wave of tears, chin trembling.

Idiot. 

Maybe Brady had been right. Were you just some dumb dame? You’d done so much for him and now with some liquor you were just another person to him.

Then a sickening feeling made your throat tighten. Had getting arrested made you no longer attractive? Perhaps he blamed you. Being publicly dragged into a police station was the closest he had ever been to being found out and it was your fault. Fuck, even his name. That had been you who said it so casually. 

You didn’t want to be somewhere you weren’t welcomed.

Slipping out of bed, you pulled your bag from the closet and sat it on the dresser.

You couldn’t believe you had wanted to tell him you loved him. How long had you choked back those words for your own personal safety, just to be in a man’s home far from your own with no real way back. You pulled your dresses from the closet, and paused.

Alastor had been lovingly removing your stockings just a week or so ago. 

After tossing innards into the water. He’d showed you where he buried the only evidence of his expansive crimes. He trusted you with things he’d never shown anyone, something you felt sure of given his freedom. 

Glancing up through tear-heavy lashes, you saw your reflection in the mirror and remembered how he kissed your shoulder and undressed you. His promise to keep you warm.

A shiny and sunlit movie played of him slipping off your shoes and putting yours on his feet. 

Your mother had always said you were too quick to give up when things didn’t come easy. You resented that, but now it was ringing painfully true. 

You put the dresses back, tossing your bag to the floor and kicking it halfheartedly under the dresser.

Lying down again, you tried to take deep breaths. He’d said he wasn’t mad at you. Was he not allowed to make mistakes? Could he not be angry around you without you taking it personally even when he said it wasn't for you? That was unfair of you. You were expecting a drunk man to speak clearly and with well thought out perception of how he’d be heard. The reasons for his drunkenness were unknown, and when you stopped to consider things more, you’d never just out right told him how you felt. Until you were upset and going up the stairs. Admittedly, to your defense, he was very drunk. 

He owed you an apology, that was absolutely expected given the way he’d spoken and tossed his keys, but he’d done enough to earn the right to explain himself before you just up and left in the middle of the night.

The idea of him waking up to an empty home and a migraine almost brought you back to tears. Alastor’s distaste for being alone had become clear, in the way he used to go out often just to have dance company, how he so quickly pulled you into his home and lap. You’d feel his heart break from across the river if you up and left while he slept. 

Johnny had said he was a mess before, clearly he did care to some degree. You’d trusted him this long. You’d killed a man for him. You could give him a night to be an ass and hear him out in the morning.

But if he didn’t apologize, if he didn’t seem to understand how selfish and unkind he had been to you… You rolled onto your side and tried to straighten your legs but felt vulnerable like that. Pulling them up again you curled into a ball and focused on deep calming breaths. It would be fine. The best way to find out if someone was worth trusting was to trust them. Alastor had been worth so much more than you’d expected a person could be. This was just a hiccup. 

Thinking back on past relationships, you realized most first fights were also your last fights. If you and someone had friction, it was easiest to walk away and try again. There was no expectation of a picture perfect romance, not at all. But once someone disappointed you, it was hard to see them again in a positive light. Throwing things away had always been simpler than putting in the work to fix them. Once you’ve done that, you’ve shown someone your hand. You’ve shown them they mattered and they could use that against you. 

People who knew they were important to you could hold that over your head and push just how much they could get away with. 

Alastor, what more could he do? What on earth could he possibly get away with? He had no interest in stepping out, and he couldn’t easily date when his hobbies and home were crime scenes.

The person with the most to lose was him, you realized. Maybe not lose you, you didn’t pretend you were that important to him. But his life away from iron bars and cuffs was now dependent on you. If he had always been a few too many drinks away from fucking that all up, he’d have been caught a long time ago. 

He would make it better. He would say whatever really happened in the morning and fix it. You could trust that and let your eyes finally close. Alastor hadn’t failed you yet, and you believed he wouldn’t start now. 

When you woke up, it was early. Unnaturally early for you. But stress did that. Whatever the opposite of Christmas morning, that was the mechanism pulling you out of bed as the sun was just beginning to rise. 

He was still asleep on the couch when you crept down the stairs. He looked like shit. Which made you feel a little good. If he looked perfect it’d be immensely dissatisfying. You tried to open the back door quietly but the old hinges whined and the swollen wooden door snapped against the frame when you let it go. 

Sitting on the top of the porch steps that led to the backyard, if you could call such an expanse that, you tried to take in the wet cool air. It was officially fall. Soon you’d have to pull out your coat. Your toes wiggled against the flaking paint of the steps, you still needed to go home and get your shoes. 

A groan and you doubled over, you were assuming so confidently that you’d still be staying with Alastor. That was a good thing, right? Or…. you weren’t sure. You had no healthy relationships to look to for guidance. Rolling your back up, you looked up at the dark cobalt sky fading into baby blue, a color that matched the ceiling of the porch above you. 

You heard the creak of the screen door and felt the old wood bend behind you as he finally stumbled out. He plopped down beside you, before lowering himself to his right side and resting his head on your lap. He stared out at the greenhouse like you did. Your hands twitched to touch him, but you kept them to your sides. 

“You are my darling.” He said with a raspy voice hoarse from an intoxicated dehydration. You finally looked at him, but he didn’t meet the gaze. “That’s who you are.”

“You sure didn’t make me feel like your anything last night.” Your tone was cold and sharp, spoken like a stranger scolding another. Stay strong, you thought. Make him understand how he made you feel before, even if you were already cooling off. 

You saw the fabric of your white slip turn a storm grey beneath his face, tears tumbling across the bridge of his nose before seeping into the night dress.

“I know. I’m sorry. I was so,” he sighed and you took your opportunity.

“Drunk.”

“Enraged.” He whined, eyelids coming to act as a poor dam, “And drunk.”

“And disrespectful.”

He groaned now, shoulders tightening in shame, “That too.”

You understood he was angry. Did he think you weren’t? You’d been humiliated. You’d been interrogated. 

“I want to split his skull with an ax.” His fingers were playing with something beneath his closed thighs, hands pressed between them.  “I’m sorry. I— you were not wrong.” You caught a glimpse of the bright yellow handkerchief being wrung between sweaty palms with nervous fingers when he finally opened his legs. “I didn’t know what to do with myself when your manager said you’d been arrested. I almost drove my car into the station doors.”

“So getting zozzled and shouting the personal details of a New Orleans detective into the night seemed… the better option? When I had already had a difficult evening?” You felt a flame in your chest again. “When I needed your support? Comfort?”

He nodded, slick and smooth face gliding over the silk. A sob, choked and broken as he buried his head again into your lap. “I’d never felt so helpless, I just…I responded very selfishly. I’m sorry.” 

The heavy and hot indignation finally began to cool in you, and you let yourself run your fingers through his hair. 

“Will you ever let me kill him?” He asked your thighs.

You thought for a moment. The safety in Alastor’s killings were the degrees of separation between him and his targets. The plausible deniability. The lack of obvious motive. If you could find that same safety net when killing Brady, then, sure. “When he’s no longer a threat to us. When no one will be shocked to hear he’s dead.” 

His arms came to hold onto your legs, soft pads of his digits stroking the skin beneath your clothing.

“He went too far.” Alastor muttered, moving his head enough to look at you from the corner of his eyes. 

“And he knows your name.” You added, the arrest being of equal importance if not less. 

“I’m beginning to think it doesn’t matter.” Alastor inched his body closer to you. “I’ve never been a bigger failure in all my life than last night. In every way. To myself and to you.” His head turned, the soft and sharp features alike of his face burying into your lap. A gentle shake of his shoulders as he lost his fight to not weep openly into you broke your heart. He let out a weak and muffled series of sounds, followed by a louder and clearer, “Do you want to leave me?”

Wincing, you remembered how close you’d been to doing just that. It was good though that he asked. Indicating Alastor knew how serious you took the way he had acted the night before. 

You pulled his head up by the back of his collar. With your first good look at him in the crisp orange morning light you could see his lips were red and raw from nervous chewing, his hair lacking its usual shine or form. The right side of his face was wet. Tears new and old began to reroute and slide down his high cheeks and pointed jaw. They met at the very bottom of his chin, for the first time in their short lives, and dropped onto you in little couplings. Falling like they were made to always do just that. Just now. Just for him. A fate you could understand so naturally it was bordering on unnerving. A love story you were sure you were playing out.

How rarely you’d seen a man cry. In the past perhaps you’d have been put off. Cringed. Considered it a pathetic show of weakness and lost respect for them. But all you could feel now was a pain so deep and all encompassing it felt as if your skin was cracking off. A dry river bed in the heat of summer. What had been there before? Disgust? Indifference? Even his tears were of a magnitude more important than anyone else’s. Every piece of him mattered more to you. 

Leave him? Of course not. No matter what he did, dead or alive, monster or man, you would never hate him enough. And that wasn’t necessarily a good thing. No, that absolutely wasn’t a good thing. A dangerous something he could never fully be told. 

Oh.

Ruth’s words on the roof crawled from their grave and tugged at your ankles. 

You were in that worst kind of love; Unconditional. 

Fireworks were out of the question but you could manage something for him. You had to tell him. Things were too far gone now and you couldn’t be sure how much time was left now that Brady had a name.

“Give me a little time. I’ll show you how stupid of a question that is over our first fight,” Your thumbs wiped away his tears. The handkerchief came back to view, so you gingerly took it and dabbed the sacred lacrima from his cheeks. You took his head between both hands and stared unflinching into the sweet, sun kissed brown of his eyes, “I never want to leave you. Even if I do, even if somehow I’m convinced to go, you’ll have to rip your heart out of my cold dead hands or I’ll take it with me.” 

“What have I told you? Don’t mention those things. The spirits are listening.” He attempted a gentle smile through his tear stained cheeks and you couldn’t stop yourself from kissing him. How could someone so good with a knife be so soft?

Another torrent of tears from him and a reply so earnest and so sure your body leaned back with surprise, “But, it’s not mine anymore. Isn’t that obvious?” He half whispered it into the ether.

Please, you begged whoever listened when you prayed, don’t weaken my self respect. Straightening your back to summon some form of resolve, you voiced it.

“If you ever speak to me like you did last night again, with that sharp tone and cruel words, sober or not…” you trailed off, begging him to not make you say it. Don’t force you to make threats you didn’t want to keep. Things you’d be ashamed of not following through with. Little self failures you were genetically predisposed of committing. 

“You can take my heart with you.” 

A wonderful reply.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The Release (Alastor)

When Alastor didn’t see you at the side door or back street, he dared to walk around the block to the front of the theater. He was surprised, like many others, to find the doors locked.

A trickle of fear dropped down his spine. Worst case scenario didn’t quite exist as some ladder of concerns, he just felt tremendous fear you were dead. That was the only rung. Had someone been watching you, that he didn’t notice as he was too preoccupied with watching Brady? 

“Alastor?” 

His eyes snapped from the marquee to the young man poking his head out of the doors. 

He nodded, “Johnathon, right?” Alastor moved on autopilot, hand coming to shake your manager’s.

“Johnny. Come inside.”

Alastor didn’t move. Hand still in the air between them. Johnny registered the distinct lack of light in Alastor’s eyes. He took a deep breath in, Alastor looked like a photograph of a man before him. There but, just a facsimile of human.

“She’s okay. Come on.” He gestured firmly, Alastor blinking back to life and slipping in.

Ruth hopped from her seat at the sight of the tall paramour. 

“The bastard arrested her! Prostitution.” 

Alastor’s mouth opened and then closed. He swallowed, then smiled, and his head did a little tilt. Ruth looked from him to Johnny. Alastor’s rolodex of canned responses spun infinitely around in his mind. Nothing was catching. There wasn’t a facial expression or comment or body posture in existence he had prepared for this conversation. Because he hadn’t ever predicted such a situation.

“He did it in front of everyone. He made a real scene of it.” Johnny leaned against the bar and tapped a cigarette, “I told her I’d fill you in.”

Brady had arrested you. You’d been arrested. 

“Prostitution?” Alastor finally spoke.

Ruth shook her head, “Yeah but absolute bullshit. She doesn’t have any want or need for extra money.”

Alastor nodded. It wasn’t his worry. His eyes quickly flitted around the air to the concern of the other two, searching his memory for any sense.

The man he punched? What was his name again? No. He didn’t know where you worked. He didn’t know your name. 

But, perhaps— no. He blinked away his runaway errands list.

“Any idea of the bond? How much should I bring?” He patted his pockets, fingers fumbling when he fished out his wallet. “I could get more, but I’ll need to go—,”

He was in disarray, a tremble in his hands making him pause and stare at his own body with a loss of recognition.

“I’m not sure…” Johnny said it slowly, “Ruth could you grab her bag from the back for me.”

When she was out of ear shot Johnny set his hand on Alastor’s, who was still staring in confusion at his own limbs, and made him lower the wallet.  

“Hey, I was there that night you cornered Tommy into the booth. I saw you two. The night he hit her. Tommy was a real piece of shit. And I’m glad he’s gone.”

Alastor’s eyes met Johnny’s and he wondered what he looked like to the other man. He felt the corner of his frozen smile twitch but he managed to keep from reacting otherwise. How many missteps had he taken?

For a moment, time stood still and he imagined dragging Johnny into the alley by his neck. Then Ruth. Who else needed to go? He’d carry them all away into the dark. 

“I'm no rat! I didn’t tell anyone anything.” A beat as he tried to read the face Alastor was making. A small tight smile and wide eyes that made Johnny’s skin crawl. Was he angry? No, his brows weren’t scrunched up. Was he suspicious? Maybe. Whatever feeling a trapped fox feels when the hound is close. But Johnny didn’t register that. “Just, ya know, I’m glad someone told him off. He was shaking like a leaf after. Anyway,” a nervous clearing of his throat, “I don’t think you should go to the precinct. I’ll go, I’ll pay the bail with some cash from the safe. You two can pay it back.”

No response. Alastor’s thoughts a tangled ball of red wool yarn, every time he tried to pull out a coherent reply the knot seemed to tighten and stiffen. He leaned back a little, trying to fit more of Johnny into his view. Wanting all of the smaller man to be seen.

“I feel kinda responsible. I should have spoken up when I learned what he was doing.” Johnny offered a smile of his own, something about it made him look younger than he was. “Just tell me where you’ll be, I’ll send her that way when she’s released. Maybe in the morning.”

“Responsible for what?” Ruth smacked Alastor’s arm with your small black handbag.

“For her arrest. I should have done more.” Johnny thanked her for the bag. “Where should I say you’ll be?”

“I’ll wait in my car.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’ll go crazy like that, just find somewhere quiet and have a drink.” Ruth turned Alastor around and pushed him towards the doors. 

“The Golden Dish. I’ll be there. Just,” Alastor stopped to pull a card from his wallet and hand it to Johnny, “Tell her to give the host this card and ask for me.”

“Well, go have a drink, try to just… try to stay calm.” Ruth’s words barely entered his mind as he stumbled out into the night. Thoughts came so quickly and in such a multitude that Alastor found his head entirely empty, unable to latch onto any single one.

He was unlocking his car door and then he looked up — he was across the street from the station. How he got from the theater to here was unknown to him. Clearly he had driven, but with what mind he had no idea. 

Long fingers gripped the steering wheel, knuckles an uncomfortable white with the force. How much would it take to snap the wheel? Had anyone ever tried before?

A deep breath, he didn’t remember holding it until his head began spinning. In the mess of thoughts, he saw flashes of what he could do. Questions to narrow down his options. Did the rooms have windows? Could he climb in one and drag Brady out?

But he didn’t know how many people there were. How many rooms. Where Brady was. Where you were.

Deep breath, he was holding it again and the thought of you being grilled by a cop made him involuntarily gasp for air.

There was no fear you’d say anything. It simply didn’t exist. Even trying to conjure the idea of you telling anyone who he was and what he did was ridiculous to him. A dark part of him knew that notion was born out of a blinding fear and not out of true trust. Because if you did such a thing, it’d mean he’d been wrong about everything. That he couldn’t trust his own decisions anymore. What would he do if you did confess?

Well, he was quite sure he’d die. Perhaps not literally. But Alastor as he was would wither and disappear. He’d be someone —- something entirely different.

But he didn’t stop to think about that. Because it wasn’t a possibility. 

With a full body tremble, Alastor leaned back into the seat and ran his fingers through his hair. He felt torn down the center. Half of him was marching into the station and doing…. He wasn’t sure. The rest was just black.

Half of him was driving away to go hide in a glass of whisky until you were released.

What would you want him to do?

He started the car and headed toward the river’s edge, hoping to find a parking spot not too far from the illicit bar.

Alastor made a beeline for the bathrooms just past the entrance of the Grano D'oro. His hair was mussed, his pupils constricted. He drew his bottom lip in and began chewing it nervously, hands pushing his hair back into some form of style. A cough to clear out his tightening throat, he straightened his bow tie and suit jacket. Staring at his reflection, he flinched. An unsettling feeling in his bones that if he stared long enough, it would take on a life of its own.

Something wasn’t right. His nightmares were back and following him around in his waking hours. Terrors of losing his control over himself. Deep seated insecurities about his work.

Alastor approached the host and explained his card was on loan to someone who would be by later. Normally it didn’t work like that, no card meant no entry. But Alastor was a regular. The man nodded and led Alastor into the main dining hall.

Alastor offered passing pleasantries to a few people and smiled as he was escorted past them to the private dining section of Grano D'oro. Separated by another large but closed curtain, the host moved it aside and let Alastor enter. The hall had a few doors but two large doors swung out from the kitchen.

Through the kitchen, with a smile and another nod to the staff who all sang his name as he walked by, Alastor made it to the barely visible door to the side.

Finally, he descended the stairs to the very lively and very lovely bar of his dear friend, Mimzy.

She clapped her hands enthusiastically at the sight of him, taking him by the arm and dragging him to the counter.

“Little late for you isn’t it? Shouldn’t you be at home with your heart.” She dragged out the word, eyes rolling not at the idea of you but at the idea of someone being more important than a night out.

Alastor plopped onto the stool and came to rest both elbows on the bar, “Should be.”

“Fight?” She was already wiping down a glass for him, his head was in his hands which was… a new sight. Sloppily, with some splashing out and onto the bar top, she poured two fingers and slid it to him.

“Worse. Arrest.” His hands curled around the cup and he considered not drinking it at all. His mother warned him to never drink alone and never drink when upset. He fudged the first rule often. But he really did follow the second. 

“Oh fuck.” Mimzy added two more fingers to the glass. “What for?”

He stared into the whisky before taking a large mouthful and forcing it down with a burning gulp, “Prostitution.” He croaked.

“That’s not illegal.” 

Alastor’s stress was momentarily broken and he looked incredulously at who could be called his closest friend, “Yes, it is, Mimz.”

With a hand on her hip she looked up in thought, “Huh…. Well, ya learn something new every day!”

Alastor held the glass with both hands now, “You do know alcohol is illegal, right? Production and consumption?” He watched her face sour, hand moving to gesture at the windowless room they were in.

“Duh. Why else would I be in this makeshift box?” It was rhetorical, Alastor rolling his eyes and lowering his face to his glass. 

Nervously he chewed on his bottom lip, biting red lines into the soft pink flesh. Mimzy stared, unnoticed. She couldn’t remember the last time he looked sad. He did sometimes open up when drunk, perhaps smiling through a pitiful story. Or dancing when she knew he was bruised in either his ego or his heart. But, normally, for Alastor, he kept the obvious and plain emotions kept tightly buttoned up. 

“So, why are you here all long faced? Did you arrest her or something?”

Alastor’s fingers found their way into his hair again, “I might as well have. It’s my fault.”

It was, without a doubt in his mind, his fault. He pulled you in. He killed your boss without any care for what you thought. He made you a shield and a target, stupid. Alastor couldn’t argue against it. 

You’d been forced to lie for him. To sneak and hide from police for him. He was no better than the spineless men he often chased. How could he be so selfish? It stung his chest and his eyes, the thought of you so sweetly sitting beside him just to be dragged into a police station. It was his fault. 

Mimzy hummed, pretending to wipe down the counter, “Then fix it. If you fucking did it, then make it better.”

Yes, obviously, but, “I don’t know how. I-,” Another forced mouthful of whisky, “I roughed up her former guy. For mistreating her. He’s been going around causing trouble now, lying about her. He doesn’t know it was me.” A lie that roughly summed up the trouble. Enough that he could vent, perhaps get third party insight. Though, admittedly, Mimzy wasn’t his first person to turn to for advice. 

“And you can’t just,” she made a fist with her thumb stuck out and dragged it across her neck in a cutting motion, “get rid of the issue?”

Killing Brady would solve everything. And it’d feel good. It’d feel….ah, he leaned back, letting his chest open and fill with the shadow of satisfaction, it’d be the best kill yet. How would he do it, he wondered. It’d have to be special. Slow. Perhaps even over the course of days. Oh, or better yet, perhaps he could show Brady exactly how he disposed of his targets. Piece by piece, taking from him and letting him watch as he buried his parts in deep holes. Giving him all the answers to his questions before snuffing out his nagging life. 

Lost in thought, he didn’t see Mimzy walk away and come back with a different bottle. The big guns, she thought. 

“That a no? Weeell,” She poured herself a glass, “Maybe go talk to the guy. Put the fear of God in ‘em! Let him know if he tries anymore shit,” she waved her finger around, “he’s gonna eat dirt.”

A threat….scare him? 

No one would believe Brady, he considered. If someone pulled him back into the shadows of his tree lined street with a blade to his throat and gave him the warning of what was to come if he kept this up….Did he have any allies in this at work?

“But you can’t do nothing. She’s your gal, right? Arresting her is like….it’s like throwing a drink in your face. He’s embarrassing you.”

A lump rose in this throat, the two large gulps of drink metabolizing and carrying away his ability to remember not to take advice from Mimzy. 

In fact, as he took a slower sip of his somehow still full glass, he thought she was quite right. Brady was testing his pride. Hurting the closest person he had to get at him. This was villain activity. 

If he didn’t reply, he’d be saying he didn’t care at all about you. He’d be the man Brady told you he was. A coward using you until you weren’t convenient anymore. Alastor’s leg began to bounce against the stool’s foothold. Yes, yeah, he had to act. Someone was challenging him. Someone was swinging you around in front of him, taunting how weak he was that he couldn’t even protect you. 

Either Brady thought Alastor was all bark and no bite, only attacking men alone at night, or, worse, he thought Alastor was using you.

Alastor stood quickly, but paused as his head sloshed to the left and he leaned with it. Steadying himself on the bar he looked down at Mimzy.

“Ah, he’s at work.” He stated it plainly, as if Mimzy already knew this. 

“Oh, then just enjoy some drinks and jazz while you wait! When is he off?”

“I don’t know…but, she’ll come get me when she’s released. So….after that?” Alastor was already losing sight of the lie he had told her earlier. He didn’t notice her top up his glass for a third time. 

“Perfect! Now, gossip. You gotta fill me in with the trashy news. You haven’t come by in so long.” She leaned across the bar, swirling her glass clumsily, big eyes blinking.

“Don’t try to distract me. I’m in no mood for such trivial things, Mimz. My love was arrested. At work no less. I’m useless.”

The very notion of thinking about anything but you made his stomach turn. 

As the time ticked on though, that turning was quickly becoming more of a reaction to the liquor and less to do with his stress. 

The only person who knew how much he’d downed was Mimzy, who kept track on his tab with an out-of-character diligence. When the host knocked on the door, she opened it to receive Alastor’s card and knew you must have come for him. 

Getting him up the stairs was difficult, but he was too drunk to let him go through the restaurant. The fine people upstairs had no idea liquor was being served in their fancy dining hall. So Mimzy let Alastor lean on her as she pushed them through the back doors and to the storage room. Opening the trash shoot, she pushed the man out and let him trip through the small opening. 

“This way, big guy,” She tugged him by the lapel through the alley and toward the street. 

She saw you standing there, looking into the restaurant expectedly, and told him to stay put. Mimzy slipped his card into his suit pocket and bee lined to you. You looked different than she’d expected. She wasn’t really sure what she was expecting…actually, on second thought, she had just imagined a female Alastor. Alastor with a perm and an empire waist dress. A little out of fashion but classy. 

She smacked your arm with the back of her hand and left you to him. 

Alastor stumbled onto the sidewalk, the lights blinding compared to the dark and smokey illicit club down he’d just fallen out of. He’d never used the back door, and he decided, somewhere in the mess of his thoughts, he didn’t particularly care for it. 

“Hey! Alastor!”

His head swung around at the sound of your voice, it was you. You were free. Shrugging off his panic like a heavy fur coat he rushed to you, taking your face in his big hands to kiss you. Grateful. He was so grateful you were back. He couldn’t let Brady take you again. How could he show you how seriously he felt?

What did people like? Kisses. People liked kisses. And passion. And touch. 

He’d translate his determination into lavishing you. When you made a yelp and pushed him away, he was confused. Why weren’t you happy to see him? 

Icy cold fear dripped and trickled down his ribs that Brady had said something to make you believe you were just collateral. You pulled him by the wrist, not looking at him, and he felt sure he had made a mistake in not going to the station. 

In the mud that was his thinking, he was sure this was the issue. What an idiot. He never let others tell him how to act or live, and yet he let some manager keep him from seeing you? He let a pissant like Brady take you and whisper poison into your ear. 

He had to fix it. He had to make it better. 

“Where’s your car?”

Ah, his car! Yes! Alastor had the power to make this all better immediately. Why didn’t he do this an hour ago? He couldn’t remember…. Alastor took his arm back, pointing you toward the park, “At that little park. Audubon.” It was a lovely little park, he thought. 

Your breath against his body when you and him first entertained affection came to his mind so intensely he thought maybe he had been pulled back in time. He paused, remembering the last park you both sat in, covered in blood and trembling. 

He needed to make it up to you.

“Anyway, I’m gonna kill him. Maybe right now! Did I tell ya? I know where he lives.” The stalking and studying was part of the fun, it made the meal tastier. And he had been sure to study Brady. When his work ended and you were busy still, he learned everything he could about the nosy cop. 

Unfortunately, most of what he learned was that Brady rarely went home at a normal time and he was relentless in his pursuit of information about you both. Many nights he shadowed the detective and heard Brady pestering and questioning locals about missing people and illegal going-ons at your theater. It wasn’t because he wanted to clean up the streets, that was obvious. Those nightly walks were a pig sniffing around in the mud for a kernel. All he needed was a good enough accusation to rush in and shut shit down. 

“Alastor.” Your voice saying his name pulled him back to the present, he paused for a beat to figure out where he was, he had thought you’d both been in front of the restaurant just a second ago. 

“You’re drunk. No.”

You slipped in front of him, making him nearly collide into you. No? Yes! What did drunkenness have to do with anything? Perhaps you didn’t understand. He did the work! He knew exactly what to do and where to go. Ah, of course. You didn’t know. How could you? He never told you what he did while waiting for you to finish up at work.

“Alastor, yes. He’s got two kids, a wife. He stays out late, obsessin’ over us no doubt.” Raising his head, he felt a swell of pride. Don’t worry, dear. I’ve not made mistakes this time.

You hissed his name as he moved past you, if he was quick he could catch the bastard before he got into his house. His road was lined with trees, shady and quiet. It’d be so easy. Fuck, it was even better suited for his hobbies than alleys and parks. How odd. 

“Hey. You can’t-,”

The word set something off in him. Can’t? Why do people keep telling him what to do or not to do?! Why were people always fucking giving him limitations? 

Brady had done this. You’d never– He was just trying to clean up his mess. Why did people think they could dictate his life so freely? Why did what he wanted to do not matter, even though he was just trying to be a good man?

“Who are you to stop me? To tell me,” He whipped around, losing his balance as he tried to recorrect. Alastor paused to stare down at his legs. Et tu, crura? Even his own body was betraying him. Saying his desires were moot points. Fine, fuck it. He barely needed legs to drive anyway. If he could just do things the way he always did, you’d see how capable he was. Brady would see how fucking stupid he was. Tommy could rot in hell harder if that was an option. 

Ah, it was quiet. How long had he been in his head? Had you said something and he didn’t hear? Oh you had stopped walking. “Are ya really not comin’?”

You had told him to not go alone, to always have you nearby when he killed. You not coming made no sense at all. 

“Who am I, Alastor?” Your voice was high pitched, he could hear your throat constricting. The reason wasn’t known to him though. People often did that before he killed him. 

What an odd question. Had you used your stage name so long you’d forgotten your true one. He laughed, what a silly thing to ask! “Now who is drunk?”

When your arms crossed and you glared back at him, his head cocked to the side. He wondered if you were playing around. You often pretended to be cross with him to make him pull you close and make you smile. 

“I thought you’d stop if I asked. I thought I was your equal in this.”

Not a joke. Well yes, of course you were. But this wasn’t that. 

“Well!” Alastor searched the sidewalk for the words, “This is different! He isn’t like the others. Mister Detective Kenneth Brady is-.” He was getting mad. Not at you, persay, but at the entire mess before him. 

“Shhh!” You seethed, “Give me your key. You can’t drive like this.”

What? 

Oh, so now he can’t drive? Your trust in him had been so eroded with just one private meeting with Brady. And did you shush him? 

Alastor, don’t go to the station. 

Alastor, don’t clean up the mess you made for me. 

Alastor, don’t drive. 

He didn’t want to fight with you. To argue or assert dominance, but…he stood up straighter to simulate sobriety. It failed, his hand jutting out to brace against the wall for stability. A failure that added to a growing pile of failures.

He caught himself and stared back at you. No. It was his car. Alastor was putting his drunken, clumsy foot down.

“If you want me to come with you, I am driving. Make your decision now.” 

When your hand came out for the keys he looked down to it and then back to you. What was that? What were you doing? 

You closed it,  “I won’t let a man waste my time when I’m just trying to help him. You’ve got me confused with someone else.”

Your turning and walking back forward the restaurant made his eyes roll. Oh, the keys still. He pulled them from his pocket, fine, have them. I give up. Failure pile growin’ every minute.

He tossed them into the space between you both, smiling to himself. You wanted the keys, he thought, there you go.

But when you turned around, he could feel the rage rolling off of your body. Alastor couldn’t pinpoint what it was about your face that was different than usual, but just beneath your skin he could see a you he’d never met before. One he didn’t care to meet. 

Fuck. 

He’d fucked up.

A flash of embarrassment sizzled in his stomach before he lurched forward and grabbed the keys, offering them to you properly.

He followed behind, too stubborn to show you the way but unwilling to be without you. 

Leaning into the window, he stared at the city as it rolled by, until it turned to water and then to woods. The air was stiff and suffocating. He hated it. Why were you so mad at him?

Alastor couldn’t understand what had happened. He was so happy to see you but immediately you pushed him away and dragged him off like a child being taken to the headmaster. What had happened at the station, he wondered. There was no way to ask now. The mood was too heavy, and he was too insolent to be the first one to speak. You were mad at him. You didn’t trust him. You, probably, we’re fed up with the complications of his company.

The pain behind his sternum was akin to a splintering rod; stiff, solid, and biting every time he moved. No one had ever made him feel this way before. He couldn’t put his finger on the feeling though, it was sadness, and it hurt, but there was something deeper. Something underneath these shallow reactions that dredged up a vague sense of mourning.

Regret?

He slammed the car door behind him and fell into the sofa as soon as he could. Nothing went right. The day had started so wonderfully… you’d felt like a part of himself he’d finally found. And now….

“You’re mad at me.” He heard the keys hit the bowl. Thank you, he thought. 

Yes. No. Not at you. Not with you. Just, mad. Mad at Brady. Mad at Tommy. Mad at liquor as a general concept. And, the most upsetting, mad at himself. Had he ever been mad at himself before? 

“No.” He sucked in a breath, “I’m mad. Full stop.” He hugged a pillow, he just wanted to be left alone now to wallow in the expanse of these new and awful sensations bleeding into his guts.

He thought it and immediately winced. Not alone alone. Please, if anyone had been listening, please disregard it. That wasn’t what he wanted. He didn’t mean that at all.

“You’re acting like a child. Go to your bed. I’ll sleep here.” Your voice was stern, talking down to him. 

“You’re talkin’ to me like a child.” He felt small and stupid. Closing his eyes, he sighed and tried to settle mind. Everything was swimming. Literally. His thoughts and the room were liquid and floating up into the atmosphere. Alastor was confident he would follow them up. 

“You really don’t see the connection between those two things?? Atleast— go to the guest bed.” 

Connection? Yes! You were treating him like a naive child, talking to him like a confused child, pulling him like a disobedient child, holding out your hand to him like he was a selfish child.

“No.” If he opened his eyes he was 90% sure he’d vomit. If he could just bear through the spinning he’d be okay.

“Suit yourself. I don’t have patience for this, Alastor. You’re acting like a brat when I’m the one who had the hard night.” 

He turned his head into the pillow to conceal the frown. 

Patience… there it was. You’d lost patience with him. And you’d been so patient for months now. Waiting in bars and cars while he killed. Waiting for him while he threw body parts into holes and snapping jaws. Waiting for weeks beside him for inspiration to strike and for him to seek your intimacy in more serious touch.

He heard you make it three steps before returning, “And I really don’t appreciate the way you’re treating me. We’ll talk in the morning.”

Alastor’s eyes welled with tears that soaked into the soft yellow pillow. He held his breath until he heard the floor creaking upstairs to let his body shiver with the sob. He’d had you all morning. And he’d kissed you goodbye at work… and then he came to get you. But you were gone. 

He was scared, and angry.

And he got angrier and angrier and now— he couldn’t piece anything together.

Rolling onto his back he held the pillow to his chest. 

Eyes fixed on the ceiling he listened to you prepare for bed. The water ran. The bed groaned. As the liquor took him away the floors creaked again and he hoped maybe you’d come join him on the sofa. Even in silence. Even angry. Just be there so he knew you weren’t done with him entirely. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

When Alastor woke he was alone, the sound of the back door shutting startling him into consciousness. The only evidence he had slept and not just shut his eyes for a couple minutes was the light through the curtains. 

For the briefest, sweetest second he felt excited to see you. It was eclipsed near immediately with the nauseating reality that you’d had a fight the night before and you’d told him…. It was hazy. Clenching his eyes shut he searched through the drunken darkness of the night before.

He had to work backwards. You said you’d lost patience. He was treating you poorly. You’d driven him home. He’d thrown his keys at you.

Alastor groaned, feet kicking the end to the sofa in anger. He had tried to make you pick up the keys off the ground, when all you had done was try to take care of him. 

He remembered you tugging him along the sidewalk, before that… you kissed. No, he kissed. He could distinctly remember trying to lick his way into your mouth. On the sidewalk. In front of a very nice restaurant. The yellow pillow was pulled to his face to muffle his scream.

Drinking was the first mistake, continuing to drink was the second. And now you were upset with him.

He was to blame. It was so obvious now. Not just for the arrest and the negative attention but for the entire evening going tits up. 

Throat tightening, a tingle began in his fingertips and worked its way up his wrists. 

Stupid.

Selfish.

Useless.

Throwing the pillow into the chair opposite the sofa he tossed his legs over and sat up. He couldn’t breath, chest heavy. As his lips began to feel like they were stung with tiny needles, he spread his knees and lowered his head between them.

Not now, he yelled at himself, you’re making this about yourself again. Just like last night.

He’d wanted to fix the problems he’d made so badly but stupidly he’d just burdened you further.

There was no future in that moment. All the little daydreams of you and him were suspended and in jeopardy. Until he spoke to you, had the talk you told him was required, he had nothing. 

For all he knew, you’d made up your mind already. How odd. He himself was the cat in the box. He could already be dead and not even know it.

Alastor couldn’t stand another second of not knowing his fate. Lost in the panic he hadn’t considered at all what Brady had said to you. Taking the steps two by two he found the bed empty. Before turning, vaguely remembering hearing the screen door earlier, something caught his eye and made the world spin again with renewed terror.

The handle of your bag peeking out from under the dresser. It had been in the closet, he had emptied it and put it there for you so he knew that to be a fact.

He closed his eyes, bile rising in his throat. Was it full of your things? Were you just waiting to tell him to take you home?

He couldn’t find the courage to check. Rushing past it like it could come to life and grab him by the ankles, he went to the nightstand beside his side of the bed and opened the drawer, the bright yellow of your handkerchief calming him just a sliver. If he kept it, you’d have to come back. He could call you and remind you to come back for it. And then he could convince you to stay. His mother always said he was good with words. If you forgot it at his house when you left he’d have a way to bring you home again. Fresh tears welled, the backs of his hands smearing them into his hairline.

The handkerchief smelled faintly of you still. His bottom lip was sucked between his teeth and the skin picked and pulled. Still carrying the piece of fabric, he leaned over the stairs railing to see you as you sat on the back porch. 

Sitting on the second to last step of the house, he took a moment to collect himself. Being so frazzled, so undone, wasn’t like him. That foreignness just added to the panic. Bringing a hand to his chest, he opened his shirt to run his fingers down his sternum and to the left. A beating heart, evidence he was the survivor in every encounter he’d been in. But now, half a house between your and his back, why did he feel the most in danger? Rarely did fight or flight kick in, the last time he felt it was rolling around with that man who’d tried to choke the life out of you. 

No strange man here now. Just strange feelings. 

The pounding under his fingerprints became sonorous. It was becoming harder to ignore the obvious. 

Deep breaths, he had to prepare his responses. The only way to begin was with an apology, but after that he wasn’t sure where things would go. So he had to make a plan. 

Alastor hoped you’d forgive him, and accept the apology. At which point he would love to imagine himself doing something respectful like kissing your cheeks and thanking you for your mercy. 

If you didn’t accept it….Alastor had never begged a day in his life, but he could see himself begging you to stay. Perhaps hugging your ankles and promising things he didn’t have. There was no longer an impossibility in what he would do, which was alarming. The idea of him being so pathetic and pitiful was nauseating, however there was no one and nothing that could stop that if you got up and left. 

There was no way to run his lines for this. Like many other interactions with you he couldn’t bring the usual tools with him to battle. Either with your wit or point of view, or perhaps today your wrath, you always disarmed him. 

But that was what made you worth the risk. It began as entertainment, but soon enough the dome of your stage extended out and around him, sheltering Alastor in the warm light of your presence. And now as he looked around the railing of his stairs, he was scared to see the exit lights flicker on. 

Walking out the backdoor, he wondered if he would be allowed back in or if the door would lock behind him. 

He knew the exact moment he fucked up, and knew he had to begin there. Barefoot, still in yesterday’s clothes while you were in your night dress, he let himself drop to the space beside you before tentatively bringing his head down to your lap. He avoided eye contact, not yet ready to confront his adjudicator.

The pain in your words from last night were just now beginning to sting his eyes. 

‘Who am I?’

“You are my darling,” It wasn’t until he said it that he realized he hadn’t opened his mouth and spoken yet, his voice was harsh and throat dry. Who were you? It would be easier to list who you weren’t to him now. “That’s who you are.”

No unit of time existed small enough to measure the pause between what he said and your reply, but it felt like a gorge separating his breaths. 

“You sure didn’t make me feel like your anything last tonight.”  He couldn’t remember ever hearing you take such a tone; cutting and cold. Was there no longer warmth in your heart for him? He had been so drunkenly blinded by his own feelings he hadn’t stopped to think about how you were viewing his little tantrum. Maybe he hadn’t ever really had anyone around whose opinion mattered very much.

And he’d made you feel like nothing to him. The mountain of derelictions crumbled under the weight of perhaps his biggest failure of the evening, an avalanche of embarrassment and shame washed over him and he didn’t try to impede his tears. Men were only supposed to cry on their wedding day and at funerals, but he supposed this day could still go either way. Could still be as pivotal to his happiness.

“I know. I’m sorry. I was so,” what word could sum it up?

“Drunk.”

“Enraged.” a high whine caught in his throat, clenching his eyes now as the embarrassment took over stronger than he had thought possible. He felt stupid now saying he was just angry, “And drunk.”

He couldn’t entirely blame the alcohol, but he wouldn’t disagree with you now. 

“And disrespectful.”

Alastor folded in on himself, shoulders drawing in to try and curl up small enough that he ceased to exist in any meaningful way. Disrespectful. He had, he’d disrespected you in public and in private. The stunt with the keys came back and he thought he may just die from the mortification of what he’d done. 

“That too.” His hands nervously wrung the handkerchief beneath his closed thighs. What a terrible morning juxtaposed with the prior day’s bliss. A sigh, soft and weak. He remembered who was the catalyst for his buffoonery. “I want to split his skull with an ax.” 

Argh, it wasn’t about him. “I’m sorry. I— you were not wrong. I didn’t know what to do with myself when your manager said you’d been arrested. I almost drove my car into the station doors.” He was beginning to wish he had.

“So getting zozzled and shouting the personal details of a New Orleans detective into the night seemed… the better option? When I had already had a difficult night?” He flinched at the rising anger in your voice, the rhetoricals were scolding and biting his pride like a nun’s ruler to his knuckles. “When I needed your support? Comfort?”

Perhaps the death blow. All he could do was nod and accept his mistakes. But, it hurt. Not to admit them, but to confront them. Another tidal wave of emotion hit and he had to bury his face back into the cool silk of your nightwear. He couldn’t understand how he had fucked it up so badly. 

No, he had to find words. “I’d never felt so helpless, I just…I responded very selfishly. I’m sorry.” Two words did nothing, they tumbled from his mouth like feathers. Weightless. When the heavy guilt in his chest was threatening to drag him to hell with one misstep, ‘I’m sorry’ was just crystals of salt dropped in the gulf. Actions were all he had left and he wasn’t sure yet you’d give him the time to show you. 

When your fingers grazed his scalp and combed his hair from his ears he shook with relief. A tender touch that promised you didn’t hate him, and his cortisol levels immediately plummeted. He felt safe again, enough to ask what was pestering him still. 

“Will you ever let me kill him?” his lips ghosted over the mercy of your thighs.

As you thought, his fingers ran along the edges of your handkerchief. Feeling the stitched edges with precision as a distraction from the stress of waiting. 

 “When he’s no longer a threat to us. When no one will be shocked to hear he’s dead.” 

No longer a threat… what did that mean? When Brady moved on from you both, or was simply made incapable of doing you harm. He could expedite that, somehow. He was sure of it. 

His arms wrapped around your legs and caressed your thighs through the silk, “He went too far. Turning his head up, he got you into his peripheral. 

“And he knows your name.”

Oh. That … was expediting, wasn’t it? It was bound to happen. 

“I’m beginning to think it doesn’t matter.” He pulled himself closer again. Brady was nothing compared to the threat of losing you. “I’ve never been a bigger failure in all my life than last night. In every way. To myself and to you.” What a joke he was. How high and mighty and curated he tried to be that he forgot the point of it. A shield he turned to you was just a barrier between what he desperately wanted by his side. His tears returned with renewed vigor, the complete breakdown of his manicured image was a tell tale heart he couldn’t smile away anymore, the greatest weakness he was never so happy to call his own. Muffled by your clothing and inviting lap, “I just love you so much…” he choked and then sucked in a deep breath to try and get control of himself, shifting his face to the side again to watch your face for an immediate reaction to his question, “Do you want to leave me?”

He didn’t want the answer. He knew better than to ask. But – if you did, he didn’t want to keep you there. He couldn’t let the moment pass without finding out if you were just putting up with him. If you felt trapped, like Brady promised you that you would. When you told him those things, the silly things the detective had said before, you always laughed. You said it was so ridiculous. But, now, there was nothing funny about the idea. He couldn’t promise himself he wouldn’t keep that little yellow fabric in his hands even after you parted, but he could swear to not try and guilt you back into his arms. 

When you lifted him off of your body by the collar he couldn’t understand the emotion behind it. You were inspecting his face so carefully, but there was no sign of disgust or anger or even adoration to signal how he should feel. The teardrops tickled his cheeks and chin and fell unimpeded to your legs. 

Your eyes kept moving over his features, until a small tug of your lips to the side crept into a smile. Soft and obviously natural.

“Give me a little time. I’ll show you how stupid of a question that is over our first fight,” The pads of your thumbs were soft as they slid down his cheeks and gathered the moisture there. When he pulled the handkerchief to his lap, you took it and used it to further dry his face. He exhaled a broken breath when you took his face in your hands and stared into his eyes. “I never want to leave you.” His body again trembled with relief, blinking away the nth torrent of tears, “Even if I do, even if somehow I’m convinced to go, you’ll have to rip your heart out of my cold dead hands or I’ll take it with me.”

Stop. Don’t say that. “What have I told you? Don’t mention those things.” Death. Leaving. Goodbyes. “The spirits are listening.” They were always listening, watching, hoping to grab a hold of anything you said without precision and deliver you the reality you mused. He didn’t want to lecture, but he couldn’t let it go. Shh, don’t say such things. He could feel the dried tears crack as his eyes crinkled with his smile, a smile that he nearly failed to switch up to return the kiss when you pressed your lips into his. A first fight? He’d never had one of those. Typically he never got that far. Things fell apart the second someone was unhappy or unsatisfied. 

Take his heart back? His mind finally processed the words. It was yours. The morning had proved to him he couldn’t claw it back if he truly wanted, and if he was further honest with himself, he didn’t want it. It was better off with you. He felt the air cooling the once body-warm tears, he whispered what he felt was too vulnerable to say at full volume, “But, it’s not mine anymore. Isn’t that obvious?” His eyes looked down at your feet pointed in towards his own. Was this pathetic display not making it glaringly evident he was a man turned inside out? Guts in his hands and heart in yours?

You sniffled and sat up straight, bringing his attention back to you. 

“If you ever speak to me like you did last night again, with that sharp tone and cruel words, sober or not…” Your words got slower until you stopped, an almost wild look in your eyes he could read as pleading. He shook his own head subtly, unconsciously swearing he wouldn’t. 

If he ever forgot himself and you again, like he had let his rage and weakness do the night before, he didn’t deserve your forgiveness or grace anymore. A woman too good for him.  

Because he couldn’t ever get it back now, “You can take my heart with you.” 

A sickening fact. 

His body was a tool, and he’d use every tool he had available to make you understand what you meant to him. Would you feel different now, now that he knew you loved him? Would he find your body warmer, more inviting… Could he make you scream your love for him?

Later, he would have to bookmark that idea. The confession was too fragile still, a crystal figurine to precious to even take out of the box. 

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ⋆Masterlist.ೃ࿔*:･

˖ ݁𖥔.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.𖥔 ݁ ˖

@eris-norwega @reath-solia @catticora , @angelicribbons , @xalygatorx

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @moonmark98

, @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog ,

@thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies

@howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @fizzled-phoenix , @star-kujo-platinum

, @a-case-of-attachment, @multifandomfanatic02 @watereddownmilk , @bontensbabygirl @smoky000

@hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain

@harley2223-blog , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima ,

@ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby

@dontfuckbutimfab @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12

[jishyucks]

True Love Gave to Me Masterlist

—  A Holiday Series of Short Oneshots

Ah~ the holiday season—a season of giving, of joy and laughter, of overflowing love… Why not spread this festive warmth with 12 short stories set during this time of year?

‣ featuring: hyung line of nct dream x reader, 00line of stray kids x reader, & 02z of enhypen x reader

‣  genre: all very fluffy! and holiday-themed (some are cliche but who hates cliches), specifics and warnings will be listed under each fic!

one.

‣ pairing: mark lee x reader ‣ genre: fluff, implied friends-to-lovers, classmates au

Sure, it was disheartening seeing everyone receive a holiday candy gram but you, especially when you’re the one in charge of selling them at lunch. But don't worry, yours is on the way. He’s just… running a bit late.

Received!

two.

‣ pairing: hwang hyunjin x reader ‣ genre: fluff, implied friends-to-lovers, rich-kid!au

You’ve quickly established that no one at this damn charity gala cares about the event’s purpose. They were just there to party. And you wanted nothing else but to leave; alternatively, in which Hyunjin saves you from your misery to see the city’s Christmas lights.

Received!

three.

‣ pairing: park jay x reader ‣ genre: fluff, coworkers-to-something more?, subtly hurt/comfort

Your ability to empathize was a blessing and curse. When you see your boss sitting alone in his office on Christmas Day, you can’t help but invite him to your family party. And when he actually says yes, you’re kind of stuck regretting the offer simply because you’re not sure how this is going to turn out.

Received!

four.

‣ pairing: huang renjun x reader ‣ genre: fluff, academic rivals to (implied) lovers, forced proximity

You don’t hate many things, but you could proudly say that you hate snow and Huang Renjun. And now that the universe has decided that it was a great idea to have you snowed in with the smartass himself, you’ll gladly add the universe to that list.

Received!

five.

‣ pairing: han jisung x reader ‣ genre: fluff, implied f2l/coworkers-to-lovers

In all honesty, you had no idea why you decided to take up the job of gift wrapping at your local mall. There are moms constantly yelling at you, your fingers are covered in papercuts, and the hours are long. Luckily, your coworker, Jisung, is there to make it more bearable.

Received!

six.

‣ pairing: jake sim x reader ‣ genre: fluff, meet-cute, implied strangers to something more

After months of being apart from your family, you finally get to fly back home for the holidays. On the flight there, you’re placed next to a cute stranger who has taken it upon himself to talk to you. What happens when the roads from the airport are closed overnight and you’re stuck with said stranger? You’re just hoping he doesn’t have any plans of kidnapping you.

Received!

seven.

‣ pairing: lee jeno x reader ‣ genre: fluff, implied f2l/coworkers-to-lovers, secret admirer au, office!au

When gifts start appearing on your work desk on December 1st, you have no choice but to hunt down the man who’s been planting them. And with only 7 men on the floor, this shouldn’t be difficult… Right?

Received!

eight.

‣ pairing: felix lee x reader ‣ genre: fluff, implied f2l, hurt/comfort

Spending Christmas sick and in bed wasn’t Felix’s ideal way of spending the holiday. Being the best friend that you are, you decide to take care of him. Who would have thought that Felix was clingy when he had the flu?

Received!

nine.

‣ pairing: park sunghoon x reader ‣ genre: fluff, friends-to-lovers

After weeks of stalling, you finally let Sunghoon take you skating—and with how close you two are, you hope he mistakes the beating of your heart for the beat of the music.

Received!

ten.

‣ pairing: lee donghyuck x reader ‣ genre: fluff, established relationship

They weren’t lying when they said that the holiday season was the busiest time of year. With finals rolling around, gift shopping for your family, and keeping yourself in check, you barely have time to give your boyfriend the attention he wants. Donghyuck, however, has a way to work around this; alternatively, in which Donghyuck just wants one kiss and you think it’ll be funny not to give it to him

Received!

eleven.

‣ pairing: kim seungmin x reader ‣ genre: fluff, frenemies to lovers

After cursing the city and their poor excuse of cleaning the streets, you eventually swallow your pride and call your friends to help you free your car from the snow. And out of all the people that could have come, it really had to be Seungmin…

Received!

twelve.

‣ pairing: na jaemin x reader ‣ genre: fluff, f2l/co'workers'-to-lovers

You have two weaknesses—Gojo and men with kids… and you guess, Jaemin. That would make it three, but he falls under that second category; alternatively, in which you weren’t really planning on developing feelings for Na Jaemin but seeing him work with kids all the time at the local community centre is making it damn hard not to.

Received!

‣ an: another episode of me being ambitious cause I have so many other WIPS, so we'll see if I'll manage to do these on time (if not, Christmas lasts until Jan 6,,, soo) but don't worry I am motivated to actually complete this!—anyways, I love Christmas and the holiday season so much that I had to do this,,, and I didn’t rly do anything for when I reached 1k so why not? I'm aware it's 'true love sent to me' but this fits the theme more,,, PLEASE ENJOY AND HAPPY HOLIDAYS!!—things might change as I go!

!! if anyone is interested in joining a tag list, please let me know! just indicate if you'd like to be tagged on all of them or certain groups/members!

[scourgeofmyownbrain]

This took way too fucking long- Everyone, gaze upon the Megatron/Galvatron height chart I made. If someone could get me a cold drink, I would love one, I have been working on this for the better part of a month. 26 separate designs, for one character, across 40 years of history. And I had to exclude a couple, the grand total is like 30 different ones. I left those four out because they were just pallet swaps of a design I already had; It felt redundant to include them.

This guy just can not decide if he's named Megatron or Galvatron sometimes, he just switches between the two names at random. I think in Unicron Trilogy, he switches to Galvatron multiple times, and yes, he does switch back to Megatron before every one.

My brain is kinda broken after finishing this. I worked on this one and the Optimus one at the same time (the optimus one is so much bigger holy shit-) and I've lost the ability to feel pain at this point.

Quick Disclaimer, if any of the images look weird, it's because I had to stitch a few separate images together to create a full body shot of the character.

Links to my Bumblebee Chart and my Optimus Chart. !!NEW!! -> Shockwave & Soundwave. For future reference, all these charts will be filed under my "Transformers Height Charts" tag and my "aka the adventures of a..." tag. Hopefully, my bumblebee post is acting up and idk if the same issue will happen here.

Explanations below the cut, I have to justify myself for a few of these.

G1 Beast Wars V1 - ~9 Feet (PMeg. TFWiki, he's so small. Dinosaur Man is so small)

G1 Beast Wars V2 - ~10 Feet (PMeg. TFWiki, This fucker has roller blades. I'm not fucking with you, they gave the T-Rex Roller Blades and he uses them)

G1 Beast Machines V1 - ~12 Feet (PMEG. The Wiki doesn't have any numbers for Beast machines, sadly, but I found an old forum post comparing the heights to the Beast Wars designs, so I win)

G1 Beast Wars V3/Machines V2 - ~13 Feet (PMEG. The TFWiki says this bitch is like 11.5 meters tall, but no, I've done the math, he is not. If he was, Rattrap, a character who is consistently stated to be 1.8 meters tall across multiple sources in multiple languages is actually not that tall. So no, he's about 2 and a bit Rattraps tall, and that translates to about 13 feet. And I'm pretty sure he reverts into this at some point in Beast machines, though correct me if I'm wrong)

G1 Beast Machines V3 - ~16 Feet (PMeg. This design is identical to the Optimal Optimus design so I'm gonna be lazy and use that number. Not like I have many other options.)

Beast Wars 2 - ~16 Feet (Galv. Idk, the wiki had the number and his name is Galvatron, was I supposed to ignore this? Never gonna watch it, but here it is)

Earth Spark - ~16 Feet 2 Inches (Mega. There are no actual numbers for Earth Spark (yet), but I was able to find Bumblebee's height, which I then compared to Optimus's height, and now I can compare Optimus and Megatron.

Yay!- he's so short it's so fucking funny tiny short man universe)

One V1 - ~17 Feet (Mega. I am aware, of the supposed "Canon Heights" listed on the wiki. 32.462 feet, allegedly. But, have you considered A: These numbers are sourced from the Walmart Promotional AR Experience that came out before the movie. B: There are three decimal points, and that number does not convert into a whole number in meters (which is originally what I thought was weird about it). C: The director has said that this movie is both canon to the LA movies and its own separate canon. AND ALSO Meg is taller than Optimus the entire movie but his height is listed as shorter than him on the wiki. They are the same height by the end of the movie, I call BULLSHIT Walmart; these are not actual numbers I will ignore them POST HASTE! Sadly, Megatron has yet to appear in the KCV live-action movies as I make this, but we know Meg and OP are the same height by the end of TFOne, so knock a couple of feet off this one, and we get pre-cog height)

Netflix Cybertron Trilogy - ~18 Feet (PMeg. Slightly confusing, but there are two Megatrons in this universe, but they are two completely separate characters. This is Predacon Megatron, design-wise identical to his V1 Beast Wars counterpart, but he is much taller in this universe. So I did some admittedly deranged comparisons to other characters and I got this height. It's a similar ratio to Prime & Primal's height difference so I'm running with it)

Gen 1 V2 - ~ 18 Feet 6 inches (Galv. So the Wiki failed me on this one, but- and maybe this is backwards thinking, the WFCT Galvatron is this height, at least comparing him to WFCT Megatron, who I've decided is the same height as Gen 1 Megatron, who we actually have a number for- I am aware it's convoluted but it's all I got)

Netflix Cybertron Trilogy - ~18 Feet 6 inches (Galv. Okay so, Galvatron and Megatron are entirely separate beings in this universe, which is a large departure from Gen 1 where they're effectively the same guy, which means I could compare their heights, and this is about the height Galvatron is. And I have decided that the WFCT Megatron is the same height as Gen 1 Megatron because they're nearly identical otherwise, making the assumption that the Galvatrons are the same easy. The amount of hoops I have to jump through sometimes...)

Gen 1 V1 - ~19 Feet (Mega. TFWiki. Hey look, it's the guy that's the foundation of like 5 other character's calculations)

Prime Wars - ~19 Feet (Mega. As I've said before, I have decided that this design is the same height as the Gen 1 design, because they're identical, yes one is 2d, and the other is 3d but I don't care)

Netflix Cybertron Trilogy - ~19 Feet (Mega. You already know what I'm going to say; it's identical to Gen 1. Just try and stop me)

Unicron Trilogy V2&3/ENG&CYB - ~19 Feet (Mega/Galv. He flip-flops so much in this universe, I think Megatron becomes Galvatron 3 separate times. For the uneducated, the Unicron Trilogy has given each of its 3 seasons separate names and 3 separate art styles. These are the designs used in Energon (S2) and Cybertron (S3). The Wiki had Cybertron's numbers but not Energon's, so for my own sanity, I decided the two were the same height. I could have done something in between Cybertron's and Armada's (S1) numbers, but there was a lot of float between the two)

One V2 - 19 Feet 10 Inches (Mega. As I have stated in the previous One entry: I don't trust Walmart, Meg and OP are the same height by the end of the movie, and the KCV LA and One are kinda one universe. Optimus is this height by the end of the movie, therefore so is Megatron. How many times do I have to explain this)

Cyberverse - 21 Feet (Oh sweet, sweet "I don't have to justify or explain my numbers, I have a source". This comes from a screen-shot of this video which has the Cyberverse height chart everyone uses, though the quality of the screen shot is iffy. If anyone has a better one, I would love to see it)

RID 2001 - ~22 Feet (Mega/Galv. TFWiki. Why are there so many Megatrons who become Galvtron at random and look functionally identical to each other why does this keep happening. Also this guy transforms into a hand)

Unicron Trilogy V1 - ~23 Feet (Mega/Galv. TFWiki. I am very tired, we have another functionally identical Megatron Galvatron conversion and I am in pain)

Bayverse V2 - 30 Feet (Mega/Galv. TFWiki, Movies 4 & 5. This time, they're actually identical, and Mr. Bay has once again blessed me with numbers from all of his movies)

Aligned Cont. WF/FOC - ~30 Feet (Mega. TFWiki. Look man, I don't know how he grows nearly five feet between the games and the shows, it's just what the video game info screen said)

Animated - ~31 Feet (Mega. Animated has no actual numbers, but the lovely @phoenix-inanis has provided a frankly astounding resource with their own calculations for the heights of all the TFA characters. Go look at it, it's wonderful -> https://phoenix-inanis.notion.site/TFA-Height-Chart-f6ad2960ca8c4c5b859ee4958723aaa4?pvs=4)

Aligned Cont. TFP V1 - 34 Feet 5 Inches (Mega. Yes, this is from Fandom. But, and I will continue to say this until my lungs give out, this entire universe is just fucking enormous. Look, I believe Bayverse is the most consistent tf universe when it comes to the transformers' models and designs, and if we do some comparisons between characters with similar listed heights (I did it at the end of this post), it's way too close for me not to believe it)

Bayverse V1 - 35 Feet (Mega. TFWiki, Movies 1-3. Look at this bitch, getting his secrets exposed by Mr. Bay. Look at him, he's going to shrink down in the forth movie, gonna get dumped down to 6th place on the podium. Get Shrunk, Idiot)

Aligned Cont. TFP PR V2 - 42 Feet 7 Inches (Mega. Look at this enormous bitch, look at the freak standing there, fuckin enormous n' shit. Wack ass Unicron- Did you know that this is probably the TALLEST base form transformer ever? Excluding any super modes or upgrades or a transforming Cybertronian Base/Spaceship, just default general body size, I'm pretty sure this Megatron is the tallest Regular transformer ever)

Not Pictured: RID 2001 Galvatron Pallet - ~22 Feet (the only thing that was different between the two designs was the colours, if felt redundant to include it), Unicron Trilogy Galvatron Pallet(s) - Armada: ~23 Feet, Energon/Cybertron: ~19 Feet (Again, just the colours changed, otherwise everything else was the same)

I have done it. I have conquered my Everest. I have finished the big two charts. If anyone has any suggestions for which transformer I should aggressively analyze next please tell me I don't know which ones to do next

Here are the different layers separated out into their own pictures, I know it's kinda hard to tell everyone apart when they're all on top of each other.

[fatkish]

I found this post you made and idk how old it is but it was about writing stories to heal inner child to give readers someone who stepped up for them as a kid since they didn’t have someone… idk if ur still taking requests for that, but if you are, any chance you could write smthing related to saving a kid from sex trafficking? Specifically where it was perpetuated by the parents if that makes sense?? Idk. I want Aizawa to come get me outta there lol(I’m okay now). Maybe he was undercover or smthing for a bigger operation and came in contact with.. that. Thanks for reading my whole request ^^;;

Aizawa x SA Victim Child Reader

TRIGGER WARNING: please be aware that the following content contains allusions to rape, the sexual exploitation and abuse of minors as well as unwanted sexual advances. Please be warned

Aizawa goes undercover disguised as a potential buyer for an illegal quirk boosting drug that the reader’s parents are selling and finds readers parents offering reader to buyers as well.

Reader is 12 and still hasn’t developed a quirk yet. They are a late bloomer and their parents decided that their kid needed to ‘help out the family’ since they haven’t developed a quirk

Reader is forced to take lessons on ‘dancing’ in order to entertain the clients. The reader’s parents have made them believe that they are not worth saving and that heroes will treat them like a villain because what they’re doing is wrong and because their parents are ‘evil’

Aizawa was back in his underground days and came upon the house acting as a corrupt hero. He had found an actual corrupt hero who used the drugs and knew about the kid. Aizawa followed the hero and was talking to the parents when they offered the reader to him.

Aizawa, not believing this, actually went to the room and paid the parents before going in alone.

The reader’s parents don’t really care how long people are along with the reader, as long as they pay them good money. The father’s quirk allows him to distort electrical circuits and signals rendering any device that investigators might use to capture evidence of their deeds, to be useless.

Once alone with the reader, Aizawa was revolted by the way the reader was sexualized by their own parents. He talked to the reader and it took some convincing but he eventually gave the reader a phone that they could use to gather evidence from the inside.

After Aizawa left, because there wasn’t anything he could do at that exact moment that wouldn’t make things worse for the reader, he informed the police as well as the other heroes he was working with about the situation and within the next three days, they had all the information they needed in order to get a search warrant and arrest the parents

Aizawa was the one who was in charge of the kid. It was during the raid that the reader’s quirk finally manifested.

Their quirk allows them to build up and store massive amounts of electrical energy and basically turn their body into electrical energy as well as manipulate it. The reader can travel through electrical circuits like landline phones and computers. They can create a force field of electrical energy that fries anything within it as well as control electricity and shape it.

The reader was being ‘used’ by a rather violent man who was being far rougher than anyone had ever been before. It was during all the stress and anxiety that the reader finally had enough. When Aizawa busted the door down he saw the man had been electrocuted to death and had electrical burns all over him.

Aizawa realizes the severity of the situation and instead of using his quirk he decided to have the reader try to control their ability themselves. Aizawa gently removed his goggles and slowly approached the hyperventilating child. He gently talked to them, speaking in a soft voice, he told them that it was over. That their parents have been arrested and that they will never have to deal with this kind of treatment ever again.

The reader obviously wasn’t comfortable with touching others and Aizawa understood that. Aizawa had given the reader the space they needed and made sure to always be within the reader’s sight and also made sure that anyone who had to be near the reader, followed the reader’s directions.

If they didn’t want to be touched, Aizawa made sure they wouldn’t be. If the reader was uncomfortable, Aizawa made sure that whatever was causing it was dealt with. For the first time ever, the reader actually saw and believed that someone was willing to protect them and after a few months the reader was finally comfortable with sleeping in the same room as Aizawa.

The doctors and nurses were worried about the reader since they refused to be touched and would use their quirk to defend themselves. It was only after Aizawa was able to gain the reader’s trust that the doctors had Aizawa be their proxy and do the tests needed. With every test that Aizawa had to do, he would explain in detail what he would be doing, why he was doing it and made sure that the reader felt comfortable and safe, making sure that they understood that they had to give consent before anything would be done.

Eventually a therapist and counselor where provided to the reader to help them deal with the trauma from their experiences. The reader wouldn’t really talk to anyone besides Aizawa

Seeing this the courts as well as the reader’s doctors suggested that Aizawa become the reader’s legal guardian

Aizawa adopted the reader and had Hizashi introduce himself to the reader. After that, the two of them decided to take the reader shopping since this was more of Hizashi’s area of expertise rather than Aizawa’s. They bought clothes for the reader, toys, books, electronics, snacks, toiletries, bedding, furniture, etc.

Once they got to Aizawa’s house, they helped the reader get everything inside and showed the reader their own rood with an attached bathroom. The reader even had a lock on their door that they could control from their side. Aizawa even helped the reader instal one of those chain locks on their door

It took a lot of time but eventually the reader began to trust Hizashi too. Eventually one day the reader had fallen asleep on the couch next to Aizawa. Aizawa was so touched and smiled softly. He made himself, as well as the reader, a promise, he would do whatever it took to keep them safe and make sure that they were happy and felt loved and cared for

(I hope this helps you and that you enjoyed this. I hope that your inner child finds some peace with this and that this helps them heal.)

[mepuppy]

Let It Ride - Supernatural rewrite

So, apparently I have nothing to do (ignore all my responsabilities) and I decided to write a Dean X Reader rewrite of supernatural to go with my rewatching of supernatural. 😊

I do not own the characters, nor the storylines. I'm simply adding a twist to the episodes. Please feel free to help me out with constructive criticism on the story or the writing. Sorry for the mistakes, not proofread and english is not my first language.

Hope y'all enjoy it.

Word Count: 7k

1x01 - Pilot

KINDE, MICHIGAN - April 10, 1988

John Winchester and Martin Creaser were finishing setting up to go into a vampire’s nest. Martin received a tip on the nest around the area and called John for backup, so the man left the two boys in the motel a city over and met with his friend there. 

After Martin spread the ashes of the scent-blocking mixture on himself, he handed John for him to do the same. 

“How many did you say?” He asked in a whisper to his friend, even though he knew whispering wouldn’t do shit if a vampire was close enough to hear them.

“If I’m not mistaken, 10 or 12.” He said, grabbing his knife, “Ready?” he asked as he closed the trunk of the car.

As they entered the warehouse where the nest was located, as quiet as they could be, they started to hear some voices. The vampires were all anxious, the newest ones had brought a family for dinner, including a child, which was already unusual, but the child had gotten away.

“Kevin will actually kill us when we don’t find the human child.” one of them said.

“So get off up and go find her. He and the others gave us 30 minutes” the other replied.

As the 2 hunters got to a corner, where they could see the glow of a fire already, they looked at each other, asking, silently, if the other was ready. John made a mental note to see if the girl had actually survived when they were done. They nodded to each other and started with the two that were already there arguing.

Twenty minutes later, 11 vampires dead, 7 nasty scratches on the hunters and one broken rib for Martin, they had cleared the nest. John was looking for the human child for less than 10 minutes, and after a promise to not hurt her and explaining what he did for a job and what had happened she came out of a pile of something very stinky, the reason they weren’t caughting her scent easily.

John, very impressed by the 7 year old ability of running and hiding from a nest of vampires, without even knowing such things existed before this experience, took her to the motel with him, to decide later, what to do with her.

17 Years Later

Y/N was at Bobby’s house, the hunter who was as much of a father figure to her as John was, since she spent many days at his house growing up with Dean and Sam, when she received the text from Dean saying he was going after Sam. She knew John hadn’t checked in with Dean in a few days now, and the son was getting more anxious by the hour. She asked him to let her know when he decided to go after the older man.

She was going with him to find his father. She owned John as much. After her parents were killed by a nest of vampires, by the age of seven, and she ‘escaped from something some trained hunters wouldn’t’, as John liked to put it, he cared for her, along with his boys. The three of them grew up together after that. She became a daughter for him, and he, a father to her. So she was very worried for him.

As she finished loading her saddlebags on her Harley, the one Dean had fixed for her one summer, Bobby came out of the house and handed her the last of her pocket knives. 

“Do I have to tell you to be careful out there?” the older hunter asked.

“Always am.” She smiled warmly and closed the bags. Circling the bike and hugging him. “I’ll check in as soon as I meet the boys.”

“Don’t know if Sam will join you. He has always been a hardhead, and you know it.” he kissed the top of her head before letting her go.

“It’s his dad, I’d like to think he will take this into consideration.” she answered, throwing one leg over her bike, but her voice lacked conviction.

“Say hi to them for me.” Bobby said as she started the engine on and began driving.

“I will! Bye”

Meanwhile Dean was trying to convince Sam to go find their dad, on the outside of his apartment.

“Come on. It wasn't easy, but it wasn't that bad.” Dean says as he started going downstairs again while Sam follows him.

“Yeah? When I told Dad I was scared of the thing in my closet, he gave me a .45.” Dean stops at the door.

“Well, what was he supposed to do?

“I was nine years old! He was supposed to say, don't be afraid of the dark.” Sam says exasperated, not believing he is having this conversation.

“Don't be afraid of the dark? Are you kidding me? Of course you should be afraid of the dark. You know what's out there.” Dean answers scolding his little brother.

“Yeah, I know, but still. The way we grew up, after Mom was killed, and Dad's obsession to find the thing that killed her.” the youngest says and Dean glances outside. “But we still haven't found the damn thing. So we kill everything we can find.”

“We save a lot of people doing it, too.” he looks at his little brother.

“You think Mom would have wanted this for us?” Dean rolls his eyes and slams the door open heading outside. There's a short flight of stairs from the door to the parking lot. Dean and Sam start climbing it. “The weapon training, and melting the silver into bullets? Man, Dean, we were raised like warriors.”

“So what are you gonna do? You're just gonna live some normal, apple pie life? Is that it?” Dean says as they cross the parking lot and head to Baby, Dean’s Impala.

“No. Not normal. Safe.”

“And that's why you ran away.” Dean looks away after finishing.

“I was just going to college. It was Dad who said if I was gonna go I should stay gone. And that's what I'm doing.” 

“Yeah, well, Dad's in real trouble right now. If he's not dead already. I can feel it.” after a pause, Dean says “I can't do this alone.”

“Yes you can.” Sam says as Dean looks down.

“Yeah, well, I don't want to.” Sam sighs and looks down, thinking. He meets his brother’s eyes again.

“What was he hunting?” Dean opens the trunk of the Impala, feeling a bit more hopeful, then the spare-tire compartment. 

“All right, let's see, where the hell did I put that thing?” Dean says as he props the compartment open with a shotgun and digs through the clutter.

“So when Dad left, why didn't you go with him?”

“I was working my own gig. This, uh, voodoo thing, down in New Orleans.” Sam looks incredulous to his brother.

“Dad let you go on a hunting trip by yourself?” Dean looks over at Sam.

“I'm twenty-six, dude.” it’s his time to look incredulous to his brother as he pulls some papers out of a folder.”All right, here we go. So Dad was checking out this two-lane blacktop just outside of Jericho, California. About a month ago, this guy.” he hands one of the papers to Sam. “They found his car, but he vanished. Completely MIA.”

The paper is a printout of an article from the Jericho Herald, headlined ‘Centennial Highway Disappearance’ and dated Sept. 19th 2005; it has a man's picture, captioned ‘Andrew Carey MISSING’. Sam reads it and glances up.

“So maybe he was kidnapped.”

“Yeah. Well, here's another one in April.” Dean tosses down another Jericho Herald article. “Another one in December 'oh-four,” another article “'Oh-three,” another one “'Ninety-eight,” another “'Ninety-two,” one more “ten of them over the past twenty years.” he throws a pile of the lats articles. Dean takes the article back from Sam and picks up the rest of the stack, putting them back in the folder. “All men, all the same five-mile stretch of road.”

Dean pulls a bag out of another part of the arsenal.”It started happening more and more, so Dad went to go dig around. That was about three weeks ago. I hadn't heard from him since, which is bad enough.” Dean grabs a handheld tape recorder. “Then I get this voicemail yesterday.”

He presses play. The recording is staticky and the signal was clearly breaking up.

“Dean...something big is starting to happen...I need to try and figure out what's going on. It may... Be very careful, Dean. We're all in danger.” John's voice comes and goes and then Dean presses stop.

“You know there's EVP on that?” Sam asked.

“Not bad, Sammy. Kinda like riding a bike, isn't it?” Dean grins at his brother and Sam shakes his head. “All right. I slowed the message down, I ran it through a gold wave, took out the hiss, and this is what I got.” He presses play again.

“I can never go home…” a woman’s voice comes up this time and Dean presses stop.

“Never go home.” Sam repeats more to himself than his brother.

Dean drops the recorder, puts down the shotgun, stands straight, and shuts the trunk, then leans on it. “You know, in almost two years I've never bothered you, never asked you for a thing.” he tilts his head “Besides, even Y/n/n is coming to help. This is serious, I can feel it.”

Sam looks away and sighs, then looks back. “All right. I'll go. I'll help you find him.” Dean nods. “But I have to get back first thing Monday. Just wait here.” Sam turns to go back to the apartment. He turns back when Dean speaks.

“What's first thing Monday?”

“I have this...I have an interview.” he answers.

“What, a job interview? Skip it.” the older brother says.

“It's a law school interview, and it's my whole future on a plate.” Sam tells him.

“Law school?” Dean smirks.

“So we got a deal or not?” Dean says nothing.

Jericho, California

After driving the whole night and stopping to grab some breakfast, Y/N passes by a bridge full of police officers and spots Baby by the road. She gets off the bike and leaves her helmet on the seat.

“You did have another one just like this, correct?” Dean’s voice is the first one she hears.

“Yeah, that's right. About a mile up the road. There've been others before that.” the officer closer to them says.

“So, this victim, you knew him?” Sam asks and the officer nods.

.

“Town like this, everybody knows everybody.” he says as Dean circles the car, looking around.

“Any connection between the victims, besides that they're all men?” Dean asks.

“No. Not so far as we can tell.”

“So what's the theory?” She asks when she reaches the three man.

“And you are?” the deputy turns around and asks when they all spot her.

“Oh, she’s with us.” Sam covers for her going over to Dean.

“I see. Honestly, we don't know. Serial murder? Kidnapping ring?”

“Well, that is exactly the kind of crack police work I'd expect out of you guys.” Dean says, receiving a stomp on foot from Sam.

“Thank you for your time.” Y/N says and starts walking away, being followed by Sam and Dean, shaking her head.

“Gentlemen.” Sam dips his head passing by the police officers. The deputy Jaffe watches them go. Dean smacks Sam on the head.

“Ow! What was that for?” Sam gets startled and cradles his head.

“Why'd you have to step on my foot?” The older asks.

“Why do you have to talk to the police like that?” y/n asks over her shoulder once they are out of earshot from all the officers.

“Come on. They don't really know what's going on. We're all alone on this. I mean, if we're going to find Dad we've got to get to the bottom of this thing ourselves.” Dean says before Sam clears his throat and looks over at y/n.

“Hey, y/n/n. I missed you” he smiles.

“Well, you wouldn’t have had to if you kept in touch.” She turns crossing her arms “Or at least if you answered your messages.” she scolds him.

“I know, I’m sorry. But I thought you’d be mad at me for leaving.” he looks down. 

But before y/n could answer she looks to her side and sees the Sheriff FBI agents.

“Can I help you kids?” the sheriff asks.

“No, sir, we were just leaving.” Dean answers and as the FBI agents walk past him, he nods at each of them. “Agent Mulder. Agent Scully.”

The three of them head back to Baby and the Harley and head out.

“Hey Chip, how’ve you been?” Dean asks you and pulls you into a hug when you get close enough

“I missed you too, Cherry Pie” you hug him back, retorting the stupid nicknames you have called each other since childhood. “You too.” she says to Sam after her and Dean let go, opening her arms to him.

“It’s been a while.” he says, hugging her.

“Ugh, I hate how tall you’ve gotten…” she says rolling her eyes when they let go. The boys chuckle “So, what are you guys thinkins?”

“The deputy’s daughter was dating the victim, so we thought about starting to asking her some questions” Dean says “And I'll bet you that's her.” he says pointing to the girl hanging posters.

“Yeah.” Sam agrees when they start walking up to the young girl.

“You must be Amy.” Dean says as they reach her.

“Yeah.” She answers

“Yeah, Troy told us about you. We're his uncles. Ans aunt. I'm Dean, this is Sammy and that’s y/n.” he points to the two of you as he speaks and the two smile at her.

“He never mentioned you to me.” Amy starts to walk away. The three of them start walking with her.

“Well, that's Troy, I guess. We're not around much, we're up in Modesto.” Dean chuckles. ‘Nice save’ y/n thinks.

“So, we're looking for him too, and we're kinda asking around.” As Sam tells her another young woman comes up to Amy and puts a hand on her arm.

“Hey, are you okay?” she asks Amy and the girl nods.

“You mind if we ask you a couple questions?” y/n asks the girl who looks at her and nods again.

They all head to a dinner and seat in a booth, Amy and her friend seat on one side, and Dean, y/n and Sam seat opposite to them.

“I was on the phone with Troy. He was driving home. He said he would call me right back, and...he never did.” Amy is telling them after y/n asked about the last time she spoke to him.

“He didn't say anything strange, or out of the ordinary?” Dean asks and Amy shakes her head before saying.

“No. Nothing I can remember.”

“I like your necklace.” Sam says pointing to her neck.

Amy holds the pendant she's wearing, a pentagram in a circle, and looks down at it. “Troy gave it to me. Mostly to scare my parents—” the girl laughs “—with all that devil stuff.”

Sam laughs a little and looks down, then up. Dean looks over while y/n assess the girls.

“Actually, it means just the opposite. A pentagram is protection against evil. Really powerful. I mean, if you believe in that kind of thing.” Sam says.

“Okay. Thank you, Unsolved Mysteries.” Deansays taking his arm off the back of y/n seat and leans forward. “Here's the deal, ladies. The way Troy disappeared, something's not right. So if you've heard anything…”

The two girls look at each other. They were hiding something and the trio could see it.

“What is it?” Dean asks frowning.

“Well, it's just... I mean, with all these guys going missing, people talk.” Amy’s friend speaks for the first time since they got into the dinner.

“What do they talk about?” Dean and Sam speak in unison.

“It's kind of this local legend. This one girl? She got murdered out on Centennial, like decades ago.” Dean and y/n look at each other while Sam looks at the girl attentively, nodding. ”Well, supposedly she's still out there. She hitchhikes, and whoever picks her up? Well, they disappear forever.”

The trio thanked the girls and leave the dinner, deciding to go to the library.

A web browser is open to the archive search page for the Jericho Herald. The words "Female Murder Hitchhiking" are typed into the search box. Dean clicks GO; the screen tells him there are "(0) Result". Dean replaces "Hitchhiking" with "Centennial Highway" with the same response. Samis sitting next to him, watching. 

“Let me try.” Sam says and tries to type but Dean smacks his hand.

“I got it.” he says and y/n rolls her eyes, standing behind their chairs. Sam shoves Dean's chair out of the way and takes over. “Dude!” hitting Sam in the shoulder. “You're such a control freak.”

“So angry spirits are born out of violent death, right?” Sam asks looking at the screen.

“Yeah.” y/n answers looking down at the boy.

“Well, maybe it's not murder.” Sam replaces "Murder" with "Suicide" and finds an article entitled "Suicide on Centennial". Dean glances at Sam and y/n glances at Dean grinning. Sam opens the article, dated April 25, 1981.

“This was 1981. Constance Welch, twenty-four years old, jumps off Sylvania Bridge, drowns in the river.” Sam says while skimming through the article and y/n leans over his shoulder to read it as well.

“Does it say why she did it?” Dean asks trying to see it too.

“Yeah.” Sam answers.

“What?” he asks looking at his brother.

“An hour before they found her, she calls 911. Apparently her two little kids are in the bathtub. She leaves them alone for a minute, and when she comes back, they aren't breathing. Both die.” y/n reads through the article ans Dean raises his eyebrows.

Dean murmurs. "'Our babies were gone, and Constance just couldn't bear it,' said husband Joseph Welch." Sam read a passage while Dean pointed at a picture of the bridge they were earlier talking with the police officers on the corner.

“The bridge look familiar to you?” he looks over at the two.

They all headed to the bridge and are walking along it, they stop to lean on the railing and look down at the river. The smell of the river gets to them and they lean back.

“So this is where Constance took the swan dive.” Dean says raising his eyebrows.

“So you think Dad would have been here?” Sam looks over at Dean and y/n.

“Well, he's chasing the same story and we're chasing him.” y/n answers and continue walkin, with the boys following her.

“Okay, so now what?” he aks.

“Now we keep digging until we find him. Might take a while.” Dean says.

Sam stops. “Dean, I told you, I've gotta get back by Monday—”

Dean turns around.”Monday. Right. The interview.” he finishes in unison with the youngest. Y/n stops and look at both of them.

“Yeah.” Sam nods.

“Yeah, I forgot. You're really serious about this, aren't you? You think you're just going to become some lawyer? Marry your girl?” Dean asks sarcastically.

“Maybe. Why not?” he asks.

“Does Jessica know the truth about you? I mean, does she know about the things you've done?” y/n knows Sam’s girlfriend is called Jessica and that he has an interview on monday because Dean told her on the phone when Sam agreed to come.

Sam steps closer and so does y/n, knowing they can start fighting at any time. “No, and she's not ever going to know.” Sam says frowning.

“Well, that's healthy.” Dean retorts “You can pretend all you want, Sammy. But sooner or later you're going to have to face up to who you really are.”

“And who's that?” Sam asks growing annoyed.

“You're one of us.” Dean poits at him and y/n.

Sam steps closer to Dean again “No. I'm not like you. This is not going to be my life.”

“You have a responsibility to—” Dean starts, but Sam interrupts.

“To Dad? And his crusade? If it weren't for pictures I wouldn't even know what Mom looks like.” he says throwing his arms up. “And what difference would it make? Even if we do find the thing that killed her, Mom's gone.” Ouch, even y/n felt that blow. “And she isn't coming back.” Dean sidesteps y/n who was between them to try and stop their fight and grabs Sam by the collar and shoves him up against the railing of the bridge looking in his eyes. 

“Don't talk about her like that.” Dean releases Sam and walks away. Y/n turns to go after him and sees Constance standing at the edge of the bridge at the same time he does.

“Guys.” he says. They go to stand him. Constance looks over at them, then steps forward off the edge.They all run to the railing and look over.

“Where'd she go?” y/n asks.

“I don't know.” Sam says. Behind them, the Impala's engine starts and its headlights come on. Dean and Sam turn to look.

“What the—” Dean starts and cuts himself off.

“Who's driving your car?” y/n asks looking over at Dean who pulls the keys out of his pocket and jingles them. Sam glances at them. The car jerks into motion, heading straight for them. They turn and start to run.

The car is moving faster than they are; when it gets too close, they dive over the railing. The car comes to a halt.

Sam has caught himself on the edge of the bridge and is hanging on. He pulls himself up onto the bridge and looks around.

“Dean? Y/n?” Sam yells after halting himself up the bridge. Below, a filthy and annoyed Dean crawls out of the water, panting, falling beside y/n, who’s already trying to catch her breath on the mud. “Hey! Are you all right?”

Dean holds up one hand in an A-OK sign. “We’re super.” he answers as y/n hold a thumbs up. Sam laughs, relieved, and scoots away from the edge.

Dean shuts the hood of his car and leans on it.

“Your car all right?” y/n asks

“Yeah, whatever she did to it, seems all right now.” he says and looks over to the bridge “That Constance chick, what a bitch!” He yells into the night.

“Well, she doesn't want us digging around, that's for sure.” Y/n sighs.

“So where's the job go from here, geniuses?” Sam ask looking at both of them settling on the hood next to y/n. Dean throws up his arms in frustration, then flicks mud off his hands facing the other two. Sam sniffs, then looks at y/n. “You two smell like a toilet.”

They look down.

They got to a motel and Dean hands the front desk A VersaBank MasterCard in the name of Hector Aframian. “One room, please.” he says smiling, still filthy, with Sam and y/n right behind him. The clerk picks up the card and looks at it.

“You guys having a reunion or something?” he asks looking up. Y/n frowns and Sam asks.

“What do you mean?”

“I had another guy, Burt Aframian. He came and bought out a room for the whole month.” Dean looks back at Sam.

Sam is trying to pick the lock in the motel room that belonged to John while Dean and y/n keep watch. The motel door swings open, but neither notice. Sam hides the picks and stands up. Sam reaches out of the room to grab Dean’s shoulder and y/n’s wrist yank them inside. Sam closes the door behind them. The trio look around—every vertical surface has papers pinned to it: maps, newspaper clippings, pictures, notes. There are books on the desk and assorted junk on the floor and bed, including something with a hazardous-materials symbol.

“Whoa.” y/n says walking to the closest wall.

Dean turns on a light by the bed and picks up a half-eaten hamburger sitting there sniffing  it and recoils. Sam steps over a line of salt on the floor and crunches to check it out. 

“I don't think he's been here for a couple days at least.” Dean says dropping the burger back in the bedside table and heading to look over the wall y/n is looking.

Sam fingers the salt on the floor and looks up. “Salt, cats-eye shells...he was worried. Trying to keep something from coming in.” He gets up and walks to the wall opposite to his brother and sister-like. Dean looks at the papers covering one wall. 

“Centennial Highway victims.” y/n says to Dean and head to the wall Sam is looking. Dean nods. The victims seen on the wall include Mark somebody, William Durrell, Scott Nifong who disappeared in 1987 at age 25, and somebody Parks. Mark, Durrell, and Nifong are all white males, judging by the photos.

“I don't get it. I mean, different men, different jobs—” Dean says trying to make sense of it “—ages, ethnicities. There's always a connection, right? What do these guys have in common?” While Dean talks, Sam looks at the papers taped to the other wall. He finds something about the Bell Witch, two people being burned alive, a skeletal person blowing a horn at several scared people with the note "MORTIS DANSE", a column about "Devils + Demons", another about "Sirens, Witches, the possessed", a wooden pentacle, and a note that says "Woman in White" above a printout of the Jericho Herald article on Constance’s suicide.

Y/n turns on another lamp. “Dad figured it out.” Sam says looking at the girl that is at his side. Dean turns to look.

“He found the same article we did. Constance Welch. She's a woman in white.” y/n says looking back at him. Dean looks at the photos of Constance's victims.

“You sly dogs.” He turns back to the other two. “All right, so if we're dealing with a woman in white, Dad would have found the corpse and destroyed it.”

“She might have another weakness.” Sam replies looking back at the wall.

“Well, Dad would want to make sure.” Dean crosses to them. “He'd dig her up. Does it say where she's buried?”

“No, not that I can tell. If I were John, though, I'd go ask her husband.” y/n says tapping the picture of Joseph Welch. “If he's still alive.” Sam goes to look at something else.

“All right. Why don't you, uh, see if you can find an address, while we go and get cleaned up.” Dean starts to walk away and y/n follows, grabbing her bag from the floor. Sam turns.

“Hey, Dean?” Dean stops and turns back while y/n passes him. “What I said earlier, about Mom and Dad, I'm sorry.”

Dean holds up a hand. “No chick-flick moments.” Sam laughs and nods.

“All right. Jerk.” he looks down.

“Bitch.” dean retorts smiling.

“I call dibs on the shower!” y/n yells and run to the bathroom, closing the door before Dean can catch up.

“Now she’s the jerk.” He says and you and Sam laugh.

You take a quick shower and leave the bathroom so Dean can get cleaned too. You grab your phone and sit on the chair texting Bobby, saying you’re okay, with the boys and already knees deep in the case John was working on. Sam notices something, and crosses over for a closer look. A rosary hangs in front of a large mirror, and stuck into the mirror frame is a photo of John sitting on the hood of the Impala, next to a young Dean in a baseball cap, a young y/n on his back and with an even younger Sam, on John’s lap. Sam takes the photo off the mirror and holds it, smiling sadly.

A while later, Sam paces, holding his phone, and sits down on the bed, he’s listening to a voicemail Jess left for him. Dean, clean again, comes out of the bathroom and grabs his jacket. He shrugs it on one shoulder as he crosses the room.

“Hey, guys. I'm starving, I'm gonna grab a little something to eat in that diner down the street. You want anything?” he asks looking back at the two.

“No.” sam says listening to the message.

“Aframian's buying.” Dean smiles and waves the credit card to them both.

“I accept some fries, please.” y/n says smiling widely looking up from the article about Constance she was rereading. Sam shakes his head again.

A couple of minutes pass by and y/n’s phone rings, when she picks up is Dean.

“Man, five-oh, take off.” y/n stands up.

“What about you?” she asks worried.

“Uh, they kinda spotted me. Go find Dad.” Dean hangs up the phone. She looks through the corner of the window.

“They got Dean, we have to leave” she says to Sam that goes to the window to.

“What?” Sam asks. They see the deputy approaching and dart away from the window.

Sam and y/n, knock on the door at Joseph Welch house. An old man opens it: Joseph Welch.

“Hi. Are you Joseph Welch?” Sam asks when the man looks them over.

“Yeah.” he answers.

The three of them are walking down the junk-filled driveway, Joseph is holding the photo Sam found on John's motel room mirror. “Yeah, he was older, but that's him.” the older man hands the photo back to Sam “He came by three or four days ago. Said he was a reporter.”

“That's right. We're working on a story together.” y/n says smiling warmly and Joseph looks her up and down again.

“Well, I don't know what the hell kinda story you're working on. The questions he asked me?” the man frowns.

“About your wife Constance?” the girl asks.

“He asked me where she was buried.” He says never taking his eyes from her.

“And where is that again?” Sam jumps in the conversation.

“What, I gotta go through this twice?” He looks over at Sam.

“It's fact-checking. If you don't mind.” he explains trying to keep their cover.

“In a plot. Behind my old place over on Breckenridge.” Joseph looks down.

“And why did you move?” y/n asks.

“I'm not gonna live in the house where my children died.” He answers not looking up. Sam stops walking, y/n and Joseph do too.

“Mr. Welch, did you ever marry again?” Sam asks.

“No way.” He darts up to Sam, “Constance, she was the love of my life. Prettiest woman I ever known.”

“So you had a happy marriage?” y/n continues. But Joseph doesn’t answer right away.

“Definitely.” He says after a while.

“Well, that should do it. Thanks for your time.” Sam turns toward the Impala. But y/n hesitates. Joseph walks away, she waits a moment, then speaks again to Joseph.

“Mr. Welch, did you ever hear of a woman in white?

Joseph turns around. “A what?”

“A woman in white. Or sometimes weeping woman?” she explains further and Sam goes back to her side.

Joseph just stares at them. “It's a ghost story. Well, it's more of a phenomenon, really.” Sam starts back “Um, they're spirits. They've been sighted for hundreds of years, dozens of places, in Hawaii, Mexico, lately in Arizona, Indiana” 

“All these are different women.You understand. But all share the same story.” y/n continues.

“Kids, I don't care much for nonsense.” Joseph walks away. Sam looks back at y/n and follows the old man.

“See, when they were alive, their husbands were unfaithful to them.” Joseph stops.

“And these women, basically suffering from temporary insanity, murdered their children.” y/n follows Sam and Joseph turns around. “Then once they realized what they had done, they took their own lives. So now their spirits are cursed, walking back roads, waterways. And if they find an unfaithful man, they kill him. And that man is never seen again.”

“You think...you think that has something to do with...Constance? You smartasses!” Joseph looks incredulously between them.

“You tell us.” Sam tells him.

“I mean, maybe...maybe I made some mistakes. But no matter what I did, Constance, she never would have killed her own children. Now, you get the hell out of here! And you don't come back!” The man says, telling everything the duo needed to hear. Joseph's face shakes, whether from anger or grief it's impossible to tell. After a long moment, he turns away. Sam sighs.

When Dean leaves the station, after escaping because the cops had to investigate some gunshots from a 911 call, he spots y/n leaning against her bike at the corner of the street. He heads towards her.

“Fake 911 phone call? Chip, I don't know, that's pretty illegal.” He says smirking when he gets close enough.

“You're welcome.” She grins back and uncrosses her arms.

“Listen, we gotta talk.” Dean’s expression changes.

“Tell me about it. So the husband was unfaithful. We are dealing with a woman in white. And she's buried behind her old house, so Sam is already heading there and it should have been John’s next stop.

“Chip, would you shut up for a second?” Dean tries to talk but the girl doesn’t stop.

“We just can't figure out why John hasn't destroyed the corpse yet.” she keeps going, looking over Dean’s shoulder.

“Well, that's what I'm trying to tell you. He's gone. Dad left Jericho.”

“What? How do you know?” she asks, confused. Dean simply holds John’s journal up in his hands.

“ What? He doesn't go anywhere without that thing.” the girl looks at the old journal.

“Yeah, well, he did this time.” The man says and flips through, stopping at one page that says ‘DEAN 35-111’ “And he left a message, the same old ex-Marine crap, when he wants to let us know where he's going.”

“Coordinates. Where to?” she asks, reaching and grabbing the journal.

“I'm not sure yet.” he says handing her it.

“I don't understand. I mean, what could be so important that John would just skip out in the middle of a job?” She looks up to the man in front of her “Dean, what the hell is going on?”

He shrugs and grabs her cellphone, that was sitting in the bike’s display, calling Sam.

“Hey y/n. I’m almost at the house, is Dean out yet?” Sam says after picking up, but then gasps and a tire squeal is heard before the line going dead.

“Sammy? Sam!” Dean asks before looking at y/n wide eyed.

“Let’s go!” She says hopping on the bike.

The car pulls up in front of Constance’s house and stops. The engine shuts off and so do the lights.

“Don't do this.” Sam says looking through the rearview mirror to Constance, who’s on the backseat. She flickers. 

“I can never go home.” Her voice is sad.

“You're scared to go home.” Sam realizes, looking back but Constance isn't there. He glances around and back and sees her in the shotgun seat. She climbs into his lap, shoving him back against the seat hard enough to recline the seat. Sam struggles.

“Hold me. I'm so cold.” She says with her hands roaming through his torso.

“You can't kill me. I'm not unfaithful. I've never been!” Sam says determined.

“You will be. Just hold me.” Constance kisses Sam as he continues to struggle, reaching for the keys. She pulls back and disappears, a flash of something horrible behind her face as she vanishes. Sam looks around for a moment, then yells in pain feeling his chest on fire. There are five new holes burned through the fabric of his shirt, matching to Constance's fingers: she flickers in front of him, her hand reaching into his chest. A gunshot goes off, shattering the window and startling the ghost. Dean approaches, still firing at her while y/n went to the backseat, trying to open the door. Constance glares at Dean and vanishes, then reappears, and he keeps firing until she disappears again. Sam manages to sit up and start the car.

“I'm taking you home.” Sam says and drives forward. Dean and y/n stare after the car as it smashes through the side of the house. They hurry through the wreckage to the passenger side of the car.

“Sam! Sam! You okay?” Dean yells after his brother.

“I think…” Sam starts from inside the car.

“Can you move?” y/n asks opening the passenger side door.

“Yeah. Help me?” he answers, reaching his hand Dean leans through to give Sam a hand.

Constance picks up a large framed photograph: the woman is Constance and the children are presumably hers. Dean helps Sam out of the car.

“There you go.” he says onde his little brother is on his foot. Y/n closes the car door. They look around and see Constance; she looks up. She glares at them and throws the picture down. A bureau scoots towards them, pinning them against the car. The lights flicker; Constance looks around, scared. Water begins to pour down the staircase. She goes over. At the top are the children from the photograph. They hold hands and speak in chorus.

“You've come home to us, Mommy.” two ethereal voices sound in unison. Constance looks at them, distraught. Suddenly they are behind her; they embrace her tightly and she screams, her image flickering. In a surge of energy, still screaming, Constance and the two children disappear. Sam and Dean shove the bureau over and the trio go look at the spot where ghosts vanished.

“So this is where she drowned her kids.” Dean says looking up. Sam nods.

“That's why she could never go home. She was too scared to face them.” He looks at the photograph

“You found her weak spot. Nice work, Sammy.” Y/n smiles at him and Dean slaps Sam on the chest where he's been injured and walks away. Sam laughs through the pain.

“Yeah, I wish I could say the same for Dean. What were you thinking shooting Casper in the face, you freak?” He ask laughing incredulously.

“Hey. Saved your ass.” Dean says, leaning over to look at his car “I'll tell you another thing. If you screwed up my car?” he twists around to look at Sam “I'll kill you.” Sam and y/n laugh.

The Impala tears down the road; the right headlight is out; with the Harley following.

Sam has the journal open to "DEAN 35-111" and a map open on his lap and is finding coordinates with a ruler, a flashlight tucked between chin and shoulder. His phone on speaker to y/n. She has the phone inside her helmet.

“Okay, here's where Dad went.” Sam says to both dean and the phone “It's called Blackwater Ridge, Colorado.”

“Sounds charming. How far?” y/n asks through the call.

“About six hundred miles.” he answers her.

“Hey, if we shag ass we could make it by morning.” Dean says, then looking at the phone “Can you make it, Chip?”

“Yeah.” she says at the same time Sam starts.

“Dean, I, um…” he hesitates

“You're not going.” y/n says.

“The interview's in like, ten hours. I gotta be there.” he looks at the phone then at the bike that lined to his window. Dean nods, disappointed, and returns his attention to the road.

“Yeah. Yeah, whatever.” Dean says glancing at Sam.

“We'll take you home.” Sam turns the flashlight off.

“You can hang up now. We’ll talk at Stanford.” Sam does as he’s told and they drive on.

They pull up in front of the apartment, Dean still frowning. Sam gets out and y/n takes her helmet off. “Call me if you find him?” Sam asks Dean who nods.”And maybe I can meet up with you later, huh?” he tells y/n, that smiles at him, but before she can say anything Dean says:

“Yeah, all right.” Sam pats the car door twice, side hugs y/n and turns away. Dean gets out of the car and heads to y/n side.

“Sam?” Sam turns back. “You know, we made a hell of a team back there. The three of us”

“Yeah.” he smiles. Dean turns to y/n and they start talking between them. Deciding their plan. Sam watches them talk for a couple of seconds and sighs, turning and heading inside.

After Sam gets inside the building y/n comments. “You know, he might be making the right choice. If he can have a normal life, who are we to deprive him of that?” she says getting off the bike to look into Dean’s eyes.

“I know. And I really hope he can do it, but I don’t think it is possible.” he sighs and rests his forehead on her chest “Besides, I’m really gonna miss him.”

“Yeah, so am I.” She puts her hands on the back of Dean’s head. She knows the moment is not about that, but she can’t help feeling some butterflies on her stomach by his action. Doesn’t matter how many times they share those moments she always feels them, even though she knows he only sees her as an annoying little girl who was raised like his sister. Sighting, she looks to Sam’s building to try and clear her head. When she sees the explosion of flames on one of the windows.

They both gasp and run inside. Getting to the floor of the flames, which happens to also be Sam’s apartment. Dean kicks the front door open.

“Sam!” Dean yells entering the apartment. They follow the flames and find Sam on the bed with one arm shielding his face.

“Jess!” He says looking at the ceiling, where the girl is on flames.

“Sam! Sam!” They both scream at him, grabbing him by the arm.

“No! No!” Sam keeps shouting as the two shove him out the door, he struggles all the way down. “Jess! Jess! No!” Flames engulf the apartment.

A fire truck is parked outside the building, firemen and police keeping back gawkers. Y/n looks on, then turns and walks back to Dean’s car. Sam is standing behind the open trunk, by Dean’s side loading a shotgun. Dean looks at the trunk, then at Sam, whose face pure rage. Sam looks up, then sighs, nods, and tosses the shotgun into the trunk.

“We got work to do.” He shuts the trunk and heads to the shotgun, leaving the other two staring at each other, not knowing how to comfort the youngest.

Author's Note: I know I'm not a good writer, but since most things are already written and I'm just addapting I think I won't hate as much as I normally do. Anyways sorry again for any mistakes.

[especiallythewomenandthechildren]

As If Destiny (part four) 🌹

Part Three🌹🌹🌹

Summary: You've always been kind hearted yet admirably defiant. Or that is at least one of the ways Coriolanus Snow would describe you. Ever since grade school, you have always been on the same level as him in academics and one of his few competitors for the Plinth Prize. But as tragedy struck your family, Coriolanus thought you would fall away from his life, but instead, you got even more intertwined (not to mention the complicated past knots tying your families together).

Warnings: Terminal illness, parent death, death and brutality (it is the hunger games after all) characters may be ooc. I read the book a while ago but don't really remember much of Snows way of thinking (I mean I know its toxic and insane but yk the other things) so I will mostly be basing off the film and my own thoughts. Also I can't spell for the life of me so be prepared for bad spelling and grammar. Also, this is going to be a LONG series with a lot of parts, so strap in! Enjoy loves!

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Coriolanus led the way, past the broken elevator, and up the ancient stairs. He let you go ahead of him in the stairwell, letting you know which ones to skip as they are quite shaky and might cave in. He felt embarrassed that even the stairs informing of his financial state but you didn't mind. In fact, while you both were going up the 12 flights of stairs, you were giggling and enjoying the jumps up the stairs.

The boy was so lost in the sight of your toothy smile and little looks back in his direction that he almost missed his floor. Opening the door leading into the hallway brought forward the smell of dust and mold, something his nose has gotten far too acustomed to. You looked around in fascination, touching the decaying blue and silver wall paper. It was beautiful, even after all the destruction it witnessed. If this was simply the hallway, you were sure his actual aprtment was stunning, no matter how sparse and empty it may be.

After a few steps, he reached a chipped white door and pulled out his keys. The heir to the house felt his hands shake as he pushed the key through the hole. With a deep breath, he opened up the door.

The first thing that was noticeable, much to Coriolanus's dismay, was the smell of cabbage. The fervent smell and the noise of movement alerted him that Tigris was still up. His assumption was confirmed a few seconds later with the appearance of his cousin. "Coryo! You've been gone for so long, I was getting so worried where have you-" the rest of her words died on her tounge as she noticed your head pop out behind her cousins shoulders.

You gave her a kind and slightly embarrassed smile, reaching out your hand in greeting. She returned the gesture, albeit hesitantly as she was still in shock and in the depths of confusion. "Hello, you must be Tigris! All my friends rave about your fashion ability and they certainly aren't wrong. Your nightgown is stunning did you make it?" Tigris couldn't help but laugh and blush at your genuine compliments and curiosity. She nodded and held it our for you to inspect. The champagne color was embroidered with what seemed like endless silver flowers and the cut and flow fit her perfectly.

Coriolanus stood back, leaning against a wall watching you both in deep conversation about style and it's meaning and topics he could never, as much as he tried, be as versed as his cousin and seemingly, you. A smile appeared on his face seeing you get along with his cousin so well. He wondered how his grandma'am would think of you; the thought making him blush. Then it hit him that she is going to meet you in the morning, making the blush on his pale skin turn a deep crimson.

Tigris stole a quick glance towards her younger cousin and even in the dim lighting, she could see his flush all too well. She then remembered that she never asked why in the world her teenage cousin brought a pretty girl in the late hours of the night. She didn't even get your name. "I'm sorry, it seemed we got too caught up in conversation that I didn't even get your name!" You had a blush yourself in embarrassment.

Here you are, certainly in the a.m hours, invading her home and you didn't even let her know who you were. "Y/N Vaun. I am so sorry for interrupting your peace. Coryo was kind enough to offer me a place to rest tonight due to uhm personal issues at home." You say the last part quickly and in a hushed tone. The older girl gives you a warm and bright smile and welcomes you into her home. "Well let me get you something more comfortable." she gestures to your uniform that you have been wearing for nearly 24 hours.

It may not have been the most comfortable clothing, but you didn't wish to cause even more commotion for the Snow household. You stand up to kindly refuse Tigris's action but Coryo quickly interjects and stands in front of you, blocking your path. "You are our guest y/n, please stop arguing" He pleads with you. "I didn't even open my mouth!" He gives you a look, you both fully knowing you were going to.

"Where am I going to sleep?" You ask looking around and spot the small worn sofa in the small living space. Your thoughts were all over your face and caused a groan, paired with a dramatic eye roll from Coriolanus. "You are a guest, I'm not making you sleep on the couch!" You knew what he meant but it was always fun to tease the boy. "You aren't making me, don't worry!" With a rough sigh, he put his head in his hands, seemingly exhausted.

"Are you like this when you go to the Plinths?" He asks teasingly. The question made you go stiff a little, something he noticed because, of course he did. "Well, I've actually never slept over there. It's bad enough they have to constantly feed me, I am not their responsibility." Coriolanus thought over your words before responding with a question he had been carrying the entirety of your walk here.

"Do you always see every gesture of kindness as a debt to be paid? If so, you must be owed dozens of debts." You blushed at his targeted question at your philosophy and the compliment tagged on at the end. You felt flattered before you realized the hypocrisy of his words.

"Oh you're one to talk Coryo! Remember when I shared with you my chocolate truffles ONCE at lunch and you seemed to be trying to paying me back with gestures and favors for weeks!" He stared at you like a deer in headlights. oh how he wished you had forgotten. He remembered that day crystal clear. Not because the truffles (which apparently 11 year old you was a master baker even then) were the best he has ever had, but because of you took over his thoughts for weeks after.

He remembered taking notes of all the little things you liked and habits, trying to find the perfect opportunities to get closer and somehow, even if not materially, pay you back for your kindness. "Ah, so it was you! I knew I heard your name somewhere before!" Tigris (of all the times she could have appeared) emerged from her room holding up a deep green night gown with black detailing.

You looked from her to Coriolanus in confusion and were met with him staring way too intensely at the dusty floor. Tigris observed both of your actions and emotions, noting your confusion and her cousins embarrassment. Oh she was going to have so much fun teasing him as soon as you were out of earshot. She gestured the sleepwear and beckoned for you to get changed in the small bathroom.

You took the fabric out of her hands and was simply amazed. You had many friends and close ones at that, but all the emotions and kindness you were treated with tonight crashed at once. You looked up at the taller woman with glossy eyes. "Thank you." You turned your head to say the same to the boy who brought you here, but he simply put a hand up, putting an end to yet another parade of thanks.

As soon as Tigris heard the sound of you locking the cold bathroom door, she turned to the boy she considered a brother with a smirk. But he wasn't in the main foyer anymore but rather, rushed to the kitchen and was opening up the window. Enough to get the smell of cabbage and dust out and the smell of blossoming flowers of the Capital in. She couldn't help but laugh. "So am I going to get an explanation or do I have to assume what a teenager is doing bringing a girl that beautiful at this hour?"

"Her mother is suffering with illness Tigris. Its been taking a toll on y/n too. She doesn't sleep at night and I thought she might have a better chance getting a good rest if she was away from all the chaos. So I brought her here if you and grandma'am don't mind." Tigris looked at her cousin, a proud smile on her face. She wiped her hands on a worn towel and moved in to give him a loving hug.

Coryo got the message of his cousin quite clearly and suddenly as he looked as if he were going to faint from embarrassment. He looked around as if you were in the walls listening in. "Shhh! Tigris! Ugh- what no- Tigris!" Oh he was so flustered. She went back to cleaning the few dishes in the sink, the activity she must have been doing before your entrance. Coriolanus knew she was waiting for an explanation but he didn't want to expose your situation and lose any trust, especially with the amount of trust he put in you.

"I'm so proud of you Coryo. I know your mother would be too. Her son being a pillar of good, no matter the situation." He smiled shyly and bittersweetly at the thought of his late mother. Would she think of him like that? What would she think of you?

Tigris snuck a glance at the boy and noticed his small grin and blush and nudged him with his shoulder. "No funny buisness, I want to sleep without being traumatized." The look of horror once again crossed his face and was ready to stammer out opposition to Tigris's thoughts when he heard the bathroom door creak open.

You stepped out, wrapped in the nightgown, the long and flowy cut making you look like true royalty. You also took your hair our of your updo and let it flow down. How is it possible something so beautiful could be standing in his rundown apartment. The thought seemed to have Coriolanus paralyzed until you seemed to shrink under his gaze.

Tigris giggled at just how easily you made her ever pristine and charming cousin flustered. She threw some water off her fingers into his face to snap him out of his daze, which worked much to his dismay and your entertainment. Tigris walked out of the kitchen and into the direction of her room. As she passed you, she whispered "you look beautiful y/n" with a sweet and supporting smile that you returned.

She bid you both good night as she walked out of sight behind the corner of the hallway, leaving you both behind looking anywhere but eachother. Coriolanus realized he should probably be the one to do something considering this was his home and such. He cleared his throat and motioned for you to follow him. You followed him with your uniform neatly folded as he reached his room.

Your breath was shaky as you exhaled realizing you were in his room. You were going to sleep in his room. To say you were red would be an understatement. You were too busy scanning around his room to notice him quickly trying to clean up the little messes littered over his room in his ever constant rush. You noticed his corner window and walked over, having to kneel on his bed to get the full view.

Even though it was pitch black nightime outside, the street lights were enough to lumminate the small white flowers blooming on the trees. Rows and rows of the trees seemed to be lined up straight outside his window. It must be absolutely radiant in the morning.

You turned back to him, watching him move around the small room. "Tigris is so beautiful and kind. You must be very proud of her." Your words made him feel somehow even happier. He nodded in agreement. He did everything for her and Grandma'am, but especially for Tigris. She sacrificed her entire life for him and raised him really on her own. If he ever for a second doubted his abilites or how much longer he can keep up his façade, he remebers his cousins sweet smile.

Coriolanus was still trying to clean up his room and you offered to help, but he quickly declined your offer, saying you should rest.

"You still never told me where you are going to sleep" He turns around and sees your eyes, deep in concern and wonder. how do your eyes look like in the morning? "I think the sofa will be fine, you can take the bed. Please" He tried to plead with you as he grabbed his night clothes, fine but worn set of silky pajamas. "You can't expect to say I am not allowed to sleep there while I am here taking over your room!"

He sighed, shaking his head. Why won't you just let him be chivalrous? He never knew how determined or persistent you were about such simple topics and wished to never be on this side of the battle ever again. "Please y/n, make yourself at home. I'm going to change, you better be asleep when I come back." He left his room too quickly to see your pout and eye roll in disagreement.

You let your hands feel the thin sheets as you try to find some way to still let Coryo get a comfortable sleep. Your eyes land on his desk in your exploration and you take note of the objects on it.

Somehow, in your scan of your room, you missed the pictures and knickknacks. One seemed to show his mother and a baby version of the ever charming teenager. It made you smile, he had such chubby cheeks and an adorable gummy smile. Another seemed to show toddler Coryo being babied by little Tigris, who seemed more than happy to care for him. It made you laugh, you don't remember him ever being like the boy in the pictures, even when you were that age in class with him.

You didn't wish to touch any of his things without his permission so you just scooted closer. You noticed a beautiful silver compact that shimmered under the desk lamp that was lit. It looked like an antique, the type before the war. It must have been his mother's you assumed. In your analyzation of the compact and other items littering his small desk, you didn't realize how close you had gotten and your foot accidentally harshly hit the container underneath the desk.

Small powder came out, causing you to begin coughing. You look downwards to the container and read the alarming words "RAT POISON". Your coughing began to escalate in panic. In your panic and attack of coughs, you didn't realize two strong arms pull you away from the area. You coughed a little bit more before your face was turned upwards to a pair of such beautiful blue eyes.

You turned your face as the last of your shaky coughs came out, leaving you shaken and face hot and crimson.

"I'm so sorry Coryo, I am such an idiot!" He quickly shushed you and assured you that you were nothing of the sort. "It's okay, you were just a bit distracted, I should have moved the container anyways, it's my fault." Wait how did he know that you were too distracted to notice the substance?

Clearly the deadly poison wasn't the only thing you didn't notice. Coriolanus dressed quickly and he noticed the light in his room still on and was ready to chastise you on not taking your ever needed moments of sleep. But then he noticed how memsmorized you were by the photos and objects on his desk. He relished in your subtle smile and little giggle, albeit be at younger him. The moment he saw the pale substance flow through the air however, his breathing became as shallow as if he himself inhaled it.

But as everything calmed down, he noticed how much your lack of sleep has hit you once more. He moved you over to his bed and you comfortably settled under the sheets.

He turned off the light, quietly grabbing an extra pillow and blanket and began walking out towards direction of the stiff sofa. "Wait Coryo!" You said, sleep slurring your syllables. He turned around in concern that something may be wrong. You offered him a shy smile, hesitant to ask. "Could you sleep here, I don't think I am to be trusted alone right now" you laugh the last part. You felt quite foolish. He has done so much and here you are asking him to sleep on his cold floor while you are resting in his bed.

But he seems to pay no mind. He responds with a giddy smile and throws the pillow down and lays softly next to his bed. Next to you. You mumble a thank you, to which he repaonds with a contempt "mhm". With the smell of roses, which seemed to be radiating from his pillow and sheets, you are quickly enveloped by sleep. Hearing your deep and peaceful breathing, Coriolanus doesn't take long to follow suit, with a smile of contemptment on his face. A smile quite rare in the small and shabby apartment. But tonight, it felt like a palace.

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The sunlight lit up the room when Coriolanus woke up. He took a second to question why he was on the floor. He was about to panic when he remembered the events of last night, bringing a certain type of joy to the blonde. He then heard the sounding of pen on paper, furiously writing. He popped his head up from his pillow and sat up, looking towards your very awake and focused figure. You were leaning against the wired headboard of his bed, with that ever growing pile of paper next to you.

"Please tell me you are sleepwriting" His voice, especially his morning voice (something you never imagined for the proper Coriolanus Snow. But you weren't complaining. Oh no. Not in the slightest) broke you out of your daze. You didn't look up as wrote the final letters of your hard researched and written paper. "Well don't you know that you are never supposed to wake someone up when they do that?" You teased, a bright smile on your face as you looked up.

The color was back in your face and your missed bubbly energy was back. With those factors, the sunlight, and your natural radiance, Coriolanus could not belive his eyes. If this was some sick dream, he wished to never wake up.

You turn your eyes from the messy haired boy (something you didn't even know was possible, his ever proper hair messy and how you could stop looking at how good it looked like this) and out the window. When you first woke up, the sun was still rising and you wished to finish your assignment before Coryo woke up and you went to the academy. So you didn't get to bask in the beautiful sight before you untill now. The street lights did not do the delicate white flowers justice. The sun hit them so perfectly they didn't seem real, they were so perfect. The same thought was running through Coriolanus's mind but he was most certainly not thinking about the flowers.

He got up and dusted off himself and offered you a hand. You took it happily and as soon as you stood up, the sound of your stomach grumbling was quite loud in the peaceful silence. You giggled in unease about the sudden noise while Coriolanus felt a little ashamed knowing he didn't have much to settle your hunger. You looked up at him and noticed the look in his eyes. "Hey, don't worry! I was planning on getting us all some breakfast anyways but I just wanted you to wake up first so you don't think I just up and left".

He looked at you with great appreciation because he would have definitely thought you were too embarrassed to stay the night. But looking at your cheerful face, you seemed anything but. "You know you don't have to do that y/n. You don't us anything." You nodded along, grabbing your uniform and heading towards the bathroom. "I'm not doing this as a debt, I'm doing this as a thank you." You tell him as you close the door.

He sighs but was surprised when you opened the door just a second after closing it. "Plus, I still want to talk to Tirgis more!" That made him sincerely laugh. Sometimes he has done a lot these past number of hours with you. More than he has in a long while. The blonde rushes to quickly change into his own uniform to accompany you. He isn't sure if you remember the direction of his apartment and stores, so it would be best if he went along as a guide. Plus it wouldn't hurt to spend as much time with you before your peaceful moments would be shattered with your attendance to the rush of the academy.

He looked in the small and rusting mirror in his room, just now noticing his messy hair. He doesn't get to perfect his curls when he hears the unblocking of the bathroom door, informing him of your readiness. He meets you out by the main entrance as you are putting on your clean and pretty shoes. You look up with a sideways smile and don't question his presence. He was a gentleman after all (you also had no idea your way around these parts).

Once you both were ready, he opened up the door, offering you his arm and you were out to conquer your little adventure.

You both were basking in the sunlight as you reached a quaint little bakery. You can smell the delicious pastries from outside causing you and Coryo to share a look. You drag him inside and take a look around. "What ever you think Grandma'am and Tigris would like, please get it! And don't you dare try to hold back. If you don't get what you want, I will." Your little threat was made loud and clear to Snow as he put his hands up in mock surrender. He did feel guilty because you were paying (his pride hated every second that you were spending on him and not the other way around).

He knows his grandmothers love for chocolate so he picked out multiple pastries of the flavor and some fruit ones for Tigris. The red velvet flavor and white coating of a certain sweet drew Coriolanus in and was something he hasn't tasted in years, the thought of it making his mouth water already. He ordered and looked over to where he last saw you, in which you were observing the vintage photos on the wall.

But you weren't there. The shop wasn't very large and he couldn't see you anywhere. He began to panic to where you could have gone when the small bell above the door rang and you appeared with a small violet box in your hands. "Sorry, saw something across the street and had to get it!" You apologize to your friend and quickly pay for the delicacies he chose. You both walked out and into his apartment with several boxes each, nearly up to your chins. Coriolanus repeated how unnecessary all of it was but you kept on shushing him everytime he brought it up. You with your fill of sleep was so different. He missed it.

When you made it back, Tigris seemed to just have woken up as she was rubbing off her sleep. Although, when the smell of the pastries hit her nose, all thoughts turned into hunger. You bid her a very chipper "Morning!", a tone quite different from the shy girl she met last night. "I'm going to check up on Grandma'am, you guys can set everything up!"

The excitement was clear in her voice and movement, a pep filled walked to her dear grandmothers room. You smile at her emotion, causing a chain reaction that leads to Coriolanus own grin. You both set up the table while speaking cheerfully about small details of your life. Coriolanus was trying to remember the last time in his life he had such a cheery morning with a proper breakfast.

Then the last piece left of his family walks in. He walks over and place a delicate kiss on his grandma'ams cheeks and walks back to introduce you. You dust off your hands nervously and go to shake her hand when she looks as if she is going to break into tears.

"Cloria? Oh, Cloria! You look stunning as ever!" The elderly woman ignores your hand and moves in to hug you. You are shocked by the movement but even more by the name she called you by. You look to her grandson in worry. Should you inform her that you aren't Cloria, but in fact her daughter? How did she know your mother? But he looked as confused as you.

She pulled back from the embrace, yet held onto your arms. She moved then upward to your face, turning it this way and that. "Oh Cloria, how I've missed you!" You smiled in confusion, having absolutely no clue what to respond. Then she seems to notice Coriolanus's presence for the first time. "Crassus! Why didn't you tell me Cloria was back!". The look of baffelment on Coryos face was drained of all emotion as he was paralyzed by his Grandma'ams mistake. Her dementia has been worsening for a while now, but never once has she called him his father's name. You were both unsure what to do but you took action. Softly you stepped back, offering your hand once more. "Thank you for your kind words, but Cloria is actually my mother. I'm her daughter y/n".

Her timeworn eyes rake over you, taking you in for the first time. Questions seemed laced in her voice and face. "Daughter? Who is your father?" Her tone was icy and a bit void.

Uncertainty was present in your own response. "Tyre Vaun, mam" The little gasp and step back to his name made you feel as if you just slapped the elderly woman. You looked up, searching for help in the comforting blue eyes of her grandson. "Grandma'am?" He asked and her astonished stare switched from you to his towering frame. Then she seemed to notice him, for the first time as well. "Coriolanus? Since when have you been here?".

His frustration by her actions and lapse of memories was caught off by the entrance of Tirgis, now changed into a beautiful brown and white set. She took in the air of confusion but knew of her grandmothers odd behavior due to her unfortunate condition, so she decided to ignore it and change the topic to the vast array of breakfast options. "Look grandma'am, chocolate!"

She began filling her grandmothers plate while Coriolanus began filling his own as well. You let everyone dig in before you grabbed a few pieces for yourself. The air went back to happy and giddy feeling. You and Tirgis briefly went back into your discussion of last night as you begged of her to show you her creations some time. She was over the moon at your genuine interest and invited you to come over whenever available.

The time passed in light hearted conversations before Coriolanus realized the time and motioned for you both to clean up and get ready to get going. That's when you realized you had completely forgot the violet box. "Oh, one last thing!" You open up the box revealing chocolate truffles, ones that looked nearly identical to the ones you and Coryo shared when you were 11. His shocked expression caused a smirk to appear on your face. You knew he was going to give you a huge rant about how unnecessary it all was but you didn't mind. No, you didn't mind one bit.

⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆

A/N: Guys I know it seems like I have no life, I swear I do! I just got sick so it has been a blessing (i get to read and write all day) and a curse( I literally sound like ill dill). My eyes hurt from looking at my screen for so long. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated! Also shout-out to @darknight3904 and their fic "It Burns For You"! They inspired multiple parts of this chapter. Go read the fic, guys it's so good! Anyways hope you guys are excited for the next part, much love❤️

@fantasylovestoryme 🌹@nekee-lilac02 🌹 @notyourwildestdream 🌹@darktrashsoulbear🌹@a-avengerparker 🌹

[al-hekima-madara-blog]

Is Madara weaker than Hashirama?

Call me a Madara apologist but the idea that Hashirama always beats Madara is wrong.

It is correct though to say that after Izuna's death, Madara was never able to catch up with his rival. All his will was about protecting his kin and specifically his last brother. When he lost all of that, yes he found an other goal corrupted by Black Zetsu, but because it was so different from his true nature, it wasn't able to push him enough to surpass Hashirama. The infinite Tsukuyomi is a way to cope with the loss of his hopes that died along his brother. You notice how it lacks creativity, all the plan was written down step by step by black Zetsu and it consisted for Madara to just froze the whole world into a dream and stop fighting anymore to make the world a better place. Also I won't be surprised if Madara developed this fangirling for Hashirama's power after his defeat at the Valley of the end. If we're honest, the gap between them isn't that big considering how both of them were exhausted in the Valley of the end 0.0. It was one wooden clone close, if I may say! But this small difference was lethal and changed the whole history of the shinobi world. And maybe Madara crystallised (or froze) that moment as a trauma he can't overcome. It's as if for instance Naruto gives up working harder after losing against Sasuke at the Valley of the End 1.0 and fantasizing how powerful was Sasuke's sharingan and that it is the ultimate dojutsu that he has to steal in order to become stronger. To put in a nutshell I believe that if Izuna was still alive and his clan still supporting him, maybe Madara wouldn't have been so impressed by Hashirama and would have found new way to counter his mokuton ( and there is a lot of way to counter it I should write a post about it🤔). It's always the same pattern with Madara, his actual weakest point is his sensitivity, not his physical abilities or his might. Losses and failures had a huge toll on him and brought him into despair rather than being a fuel to try harder and endure like Hashirama or Naruto.

There is this moment during the war when Madara stole Edo Hashirama's senjustu and he's shocked how easy it is for him to control it. All those years he was scared to master the Senjutsu because he put Hashirama's power on a pedestal only to realise he could have done it earlier if he had believed in himself. We don't know how fast the training was for Hashirama but we know that it took a long time for Naruto to master it at the mount Myoboku even Jiraya was never able to get the perfect form. Madara did it in 3 sec...

In other translation he precises he thought senjutsu was harder to master

"Madara's back touched the ground for the very first time"

Let's go back to the first illustration. between their first encounter by the river and Izuna's death. Hashirama admitted that it's the first time Madara was K-O.

What can we guess about that? From the moment they met when they were 12 years old by the river to approximately 25/26 years old (Izuna died at 24). They might have been moment when they finished ex aequo, or that one side strategically retreated or that Madara had a real advantage over Hashirama and vice versa Hashirama took the lead in a different battle. Why? Because we saw that dynamic played between Sasuke and Naruto. Sasuke was first introduce as the genius while Naruto like the dunce. After Jiraya's training, Naruto lead. Then Sasuke took over after the valley of the end 1.0 and his three years training with Oroshimaru. During the 4th Shinobi war we can say that they were both equal with a small advantage to Naruto having a quick power up when he learnt to work with Kyubi. Then Hagoromo gave them the same power in order to beat Sage Madara and later Kaguya. After the Valley of the end 2.0, Sasuke conceded victory to Naruto's ideology but technically they both ended up equal, losing both an arm. And all of this is happening during a short period of 5 years from their 12 years old in team 7 to 17 years old at the conclusion of the Fourth Shinobi war.

What Naruto and Sasuke developed in 5 years during 700 chapters we have it resumed in this single panel above for Hashirama and Madara that spent about 15 YEARS fighting each other regularly in battlefields. That panel resumes perfectly all those years before Konoha was founded. All this period without seeing details about their personal lives, their clans or their training. ~by the way my fanfic ~Madara golden Age explores this period of Warring state era if you're interested here 👀~ Obviously they went through a lot of challenges and hardships, losses and victories from both side. If Uchiha were hired to fight Senju it's because their strength were heavenly equivalent. Madara had to win from time to time against Hashirama and the Senju clan in order to be credible, to be hired by warlords for years and to feed his clan. Life expectancy being 30 years and both becoming leader of their clan before reaching this age means they respectively lost clansmens, friends and their fathers during the warring state era. They are the powerhouse they are because it was a dire matter of life or death. Yet Naruto the manga is focused on the moment Madara lost everything that matters to him, so naturally he kept losing against Hashirama hence why he's seen as a perpetual loser. Being the main villain, it's normal that his fall into darkness is more interesting to the plot that his glorious days. In the end, the story is always written by the final winner.

[themissingchildfromhistory]

Just a few things on my mind that I haven't seen anyone talking about yet for The Umbrella Academy season 4......

1). I think it would have been drastically cooler if, when Ben spiked the sake with the marigold, everyone's powers got switched around. At least for a bit. Allison gets the knife thing, Viktor getting Ben's tentacles, etc. Mainly Diego getting Five's blink ability. That way the whole Lila-getting-lost-in-a-time-subway-with-a-Hargreevees actually makes sense. Her and Diego could have used that time to actually talk and spell out their grievances with each other, instead of the three sentence bullshit they got. Maybe they didn't speak to each other for a few months. But they slowly realized, hey. I do love you. I love you lots. Our lives aren't perfect, given all the trauma we've been through and how we were shoved into this normal domestic life (which isn't a bad thing, but definitely requires an adjustment time after what they're used to) but I still love you, and our life together. And our three kids, who all actually have names and importance.

1.5). WHAT HAPPENED TO THE RANDOM GUY/WAITER WHO GOT DRENCHED IN MARIGOLD SAKE FROM KLAUS?! DID HE GET POWERS TOO?? OR WOULD THE MARIGOLD HAVE TO BE INGESTED FOR THAT TO HAPPEN??

2). The mothers. They weren't all impregnated and gave birth on the same day, but that doesn't mean they possibly wouldn't go on to have children. And while the kids they had would have human/real fathers, that doesn't mean the Umbrellas couldn't have still been born. I think the ending would have been so much better if it showed all 8 of them in their respective homes living out their lives had their mother's given birth to them normally. Klaus in the Amish community, Ben in Korea, Viktor in Russia teaching violin, hell, maybe a few of them still managed to meet up somehow. Maybe we see the Sparrows too. Who knows. But just because this version of them "had" to die (that's obviously a whole bunch of bullshit on its own) doesn't mean they wouldn't somehow exist later, when and if their mothers decided to have kids.

3). I think Diego should have been there when Lila saw the kids off in the subway. Five being there and being the one to chase after her/comfort her was part of the whole grossness that was their relationship. Diego should have been able to say goodbye to all of this kids/family as well.

Other thoughts that don't particularly pertain to just season 4....

If Reginald was on Earth in the 1800s, why did it take him till 1989 to release the marigold and cause the Umbrellas/Sparrows/Phoenixes to be born??

What is the purpose of marigold??? Why did Abigail invent it??

If Durango is the side effect of creating marigold, are there others out there who have Durango instead of marigold?? Could some of the other 40 something kids born in 1989 have Durango instead of marigold??

If the whole goal was to eventually use marigold to.... reset the timeline? in the end of s3, why use it to impregnate women in the first place???? Why not just use the fucking marigold as is??!

What was the purpose of the league of generic men in season 2?? Why assassinate Kennedy?? I had originally thought the other 12 men were aliens like Reginald and they were in the rockets seen fleeing the other world. But clearly not

There's definitely more, but these are the most pressing ones I can think about right now. In conclusion season 4 was trash with a few good highlights thrown in and would have been better if the cast just put on a stage production in a high school auditorium

[sokkastyles]

There's a Zuko line that always confused me from Book 1 episode 3. "If my father thinks the rest of the world will follow him willingly, then he is a fool." It just seems out of character considering what we learn about Zuko and Ozai in future episodes...like after episode 12 I have a hard time believing that Zuko would or could say something like this about Ozai so openly. What do you think?

I've talked about this before, and I have a few different theories.

One is you can chalk it up to early installment weirdness. Zuko's character maybe had not been quite so cemented yet and in this episode he is largely presented as egotistical. On my first watch of the show, I thought early on that Zuko had been banished for trying to usurp his father, and I think this episode was the one that led me to believe this. That's one of the beauties of the show's writing, we think Zuko is selfish and vain and then we find out that he actually was banished for trying to do the right thing.

Which also could be subtly implied in the dialogue here, because what Zuko says mirrors his standing up for innocent people both in that fateful war meeting that got him banished, and in the war meeting in book three when he says that the people of the Earth Kingdom are strong and enduring.

I don't think he's speaking out of respect for the Earth Kingdom here, exactly, but it's a subtle nod to the fact that Zuko knows right from wrong.

Which leads to another theory. Zuko doesn't like whatever subconscious realization he has that colonization of the Earth Kingdom is wrong, and is taking it out on Zhao. Which he can do because Zhao is not his father, and Zuko does not respect Zhao. What Zuko says is about his father but it's really being directed at Zhao. You can also interpret it as Zuko thinks Zhao is an idiot if Zhao thinks Ozai thinks the Earth Kingdom will fall willingly. He's insulting Zhao while not necessarily disagreeing with Ozai, but Zhao's interpretation of Ozai's plan. Surely his father has a smarter plan than that to crush those insubordinate Earth people!

This shows both Zuko's cognitive dissonance about his father AND his ability to voice what he knows is right because it's Zhao, not Ozai, and he feels more free to speak his mind. It is still interesting because it's a risk. Zhao already thinks he's leaning towards a traitorous mindset. It's an early episode that reveals that Zuko contains multitudes, whatever he is.

It's also a reflection of those words on the dagger Iroh gave him that became a big part of Zuko's personality: never give up without a fight. I think even here, Zuko admires the Earth Kingdom people for their endurance, and is expressing it in his way, like Iroh does when he makes that joke about burning the city down. It's a paternalistic view of this colonized nation which often does coexist with imperialist sentiment, like, oh, these silly foreigners and their resistance to our might! Not respect, exactly, but it paves the way for his later change of heart.

It could also be a reflection of what got Zuko banned in the first place, which was speaking treason to a high ranking officer who he disagreed with which he thought his father would back him up on, because he didn't fully understand just how awful his nation really was. And how awful his father really was, poor kid.

[ourfatherwhoartinhell]

Bonded in Blue

Pairing | Sister Emery (OC) x Alpha

Word count | 2.1k

Warnings | None :)

Tags | Light-hearted, fluff, domestic!Alpha, theres an attempt at humour if you squint

Plot Summary: Emery has never seen Alpha's flame. When he decides to show her, she finds out that it's as beautiful and unique as her mate is. Alpha also explains more about what it means to be mated to a ghoul.

A/N: Ok ok, I saw this fanart done by @xruiiii-blog that inspired this idea of Alpha having a different coloured flame than normal fire ghouls because he's ancient. I had to write something about it so here it is! Enjoy!

(HUGE LOVING S/O TO @ghoulelegy AND @sister-nyx FOR THEIR HELP WITH THIS ONE!! 🖤🖤🖤)

It was well known by all members of the Ministry that the ghouls they worked with were, at their core, tied to elements. Elements that were actually pretty handy to have around. 

You could find Water ghouls spending their time helping the kitchen staff with the dishes. Or alongside the Earth ghouls outside, making sure the flowers and shrubbery their brethren erected in the garden were blooming and quenched. The more experienced Water ghouls would be found guarding the river behind the Ministry, protecting those from the otherworldly creatures and spirits that have been known to lurk in the dark waters.

The more adept Quintessence ghouls were happy to assist the medical teams in the infirmary. Their powers were proven to be far beyond what modern science could produce, helping both the members of the clergy and other ghouls alike who found themselves in need. The more squeamish ghouls sharing this element, or those who needed more time to refine their skills, often found their calling as the MInistry’s therapists. Their unique ability to sense changes in emotions had often been noted to be not unlike mind-reading. 

The increasing number of ghouls that presented an aptitude for multiple elements - multi-ghouls as they were called - were not particularly strong in one specific area, but were a welcome help nonetheless! They would often be called upon as personal amplifiers for other ghouls, increasing the elemental strength of the receiving ghouls substantially. 

Just yesterday, Swiss was called into the infirmary to help Aether fix up a poor Fire ghoul that fell in the pool. Normally it wouldn’t have been an issue, but poor Aether had been working for a continuous 12 hours at that point and was exhausted. Without Swiss, Aether would have had to call on Phantom (who’s abilities were not the most reliable on any given day) and the outcome could have been very, very different. 

These multi-ghouls have turned out to be irreplaceable. Their skills helped to reduce elemental burnout significantly.

The Fire ghouls of the Ministry have often been thought of as rare. Only witnessing three in the time since Papa Emeritus I, and one had to be made. These ghouls are not ones you want to cross. Their temper is like a rolling boil just waiting for someone to turn up the dial. 

They are often called upon in the wintertime to keep the fires around the large building alight, and to help those suffering with hypothermia or frostbite. They’re also the ones to call if you’re in need of someone to fix glassware or windows. It’s not widely known, but most of the glass sculptures you can find sparsely decorating the Ministry were actually made by Ifrit - the ones he didn’t end up breaking in excitement anyway.

Ifrit was mainly found in the kitchen, fixing glasses, plates and various tableware that found itself with cracks or chips. Having more control over his element than Dewdrop, he was also wholly in charge of repairing the Ministry’s many large windows. 

Dewdrop found he actually enjoyed his job helping the Sisters keep the building alight. Since he didn’t sleep much anymore, throughout the night he followed cool patches of the building and gave the nearest fireplace a helping hand. He particularly enjoyed lighting the streetlamps that stood along the driveway. 

The driveway was a long, gravel covered path that connected the Ministry to the main road as it weaved through the dense forest that surrounded the property. Dewdrop would sometimes get sidetracked however, amusing himself by scaring unexpecting hikers who found themselves getting a little too close to home for his liking. Since letting Dew out once a night to monitor the entranceway, Copia has noticed a significant decrease in Christian protestors grumbling and camping out at the entrance of the property.

The Ministry’s first Fire ghoul, however, was rarely seen these days; Alpha was seldom seen outside of the den in the summer, or the basement in the winter, where he spent most of his time monitoring the ancient coal powered heating system. It took a very powerful Fire ghoul to keep it up and running due to its size, the kind of strength that Ifrit or Dewdrop may never have. 

He was okay with his role though, someone had to do it. The only one who ever really saw him when he wasn’t tending to the coals, was Sister Emery. In the winter, he would often go to her for a cold bath, covered in black and absolutely exhausted.

“Lets get that soot off your pretty face,” she would say, as she happily helped her mate clean up and recharge.

In all the years they had been together, Sister Emery had never actually seen Alpha’s flames. She had seen Ifrit’s, an energetic and wild bright orange that almost always looked out of control. She was also there when the other Fire ghouls helped Dewdrop find his. After days of attempts, a bright and angry red flame crackled and sparked around his fingers. The smoke, she noted, trailed off in a strange shade of blue and green. A reminder of his birth element, Water.

Yet, she had never seen Alpha’s.

You would think after all the years they’ve been together, it would’ve happened by now. Even if by accident! Emery decided that today she was going to fix that.

After finishing her chores, the Sister headed to the ghoul den. Ignoring the younger ghouls shouting as she entered. They were currently playing an aggressive game of Twister, where Phantom was looking to go undefeated for 6 weeks. Emery said hi to Rain and Earth as she passed by, heading towards the stairs that lead further down into the den before noticing her friend.

“Hi, Omega. Is Alpha in his room?”

The older ghoul smiled as he turned around. “As far as I know, Ember!”

Ember. That nickname came shortly after her and Alpha became official. ‘Get it? Cause your name is Emery, it sounds like ember cause Alpha’s a– nevermind’. She had just chuckled and decided to let him keep it, secretly finding it cute. It was like her way of being a part of the pack, besides being simply mated to one of them.

Emery thanked Omega and continued down the spiral staircase. 

Alpha liked having his living area in the lower area of the den since it was cooler down there. At first, Emery shuddered at the thought of living in an igloo, but it turned out to be a pretty good fit in the end. It came equipped with its own personal heater who always kept her nice and toasty!

She reached the bottom of the staircase and approached the first door on the left, lightly knocking before making her way inside. She found Alpha laying on the bed, reading the book she picked up for him yesterday.

“Hey!” He said, closing the book and patting beside him as he sat up, leaning against the headboard. “What’s up?”

Emery made the 4 steps over to the bed and decided she hadn’t bothered her mate enough today, intentionally climbing over him and making a fuss. Alpha rolled his eyes and held her waist, stopping her from making it completely over to the other side, and held her to him.

“I haven’t seen you all day, where have you been?”

“I had extra chores today cause Sister Niamh isn’t feeling well, but Aether said she’d be right as rain tomorrow.” Emery said with a yawn as she settled into Alpha’s side, resting her head on his chest. “Not Rain like, Rain. Like– ugh, you know what I mean.”

Alpha just chuckled as she played with her fingers, heating his own as he worked to soothe the achiness she must be feeling after her long day.

“That’s not the only thing on your mind,” he pressed.

Now or never, Emery thought. “Why have I never seen what your flame looks like?”

Alpha paused, not at all what he was expecting her to say. 

“I’ve seen Ifrit’s many times when he comes to fix the windows in the library. I was there when you guys helped Dew find his.” She reminisced. “But I’ve never seen yours.”

“You never asked.” In truth, he didn’t really have an answer. “It’s not as much of a big deal as it used to be, but it used to be something sacred.”

Emery kept quiet. If he didn’t want to show her, then she wouldn’t press him to. She didn’t realize that it could be something that personal or intimate, since the other ghouls showcase theirs all the time. But Alpha was a lot older than the other ghouls - maybe things had changed.

“If you wanted to see it my dear, then all you had to do was ask.”

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything. I didn’t realize it was so personal.”

Alpha chuckled and rested his head in the crook of her neck, kissing the mating bite he put there a year ago. “Star, there is nothing you could do, or say, to make me feel uncomfortable. You’re my mate. That means you’re as much a part of me as I am you. I probably should’ve shown you earlier, but I didn’t think you were interested.”

Alpha began to scent her lightly as she relaxed further into his embrace, a wicked smile growing on his face. “Although, maybe I should show it more often. Remind these ghouls who you belong to, cause I can smell Aether all over you.”

It was Emery’s turn to chuckle as she reached up and affectionately bonked him on the nose. “What did you expect! He came to visit me in the library looking for a book to help Phantom. I couldn’t leave a friend in need!”

Alpha’s chest rumbled as he hummed in response, untangling an arm from around Emery’s waist. He held his hand out in-front of her, turning his closed fist over and opening his fingers to reveal a small, calm flame flickering at the center.

“Alpha.” Her eyes widened, utterly enchanted. “Amare, this is…”

“Not what you expected?”

“It’s blue!” She smiled before reaching out to touch it, quickly catching herself.

“You can touch it, go ahead.” Sister Emery turned her neck to glare at the ghoul. “Yeah, and burn myself so you can laugh at my stupidity. I thought you didn’t want me to hang around Aether anymore.”

“Well I’d rather not smell other ghouls' scents on you.” Alpha tenderly kissed her forehead as she looked at him. “Just trust me.”

Emery looked back at the blue flame expertly controlled in his hand. Taking a breath, she reached out. As her index finger cautiously rolled over the tip of the flame, she exhaled.

“It's… not burning me?” She said in awe, her fingers dancing in it.

“No. And it never will.” Alpha remarked, resting his chin on her head as he watched her play with the little fire he easily wiggled out of her reach. “You’re as much a part of me as I am you. Once I marked you, a part of me stayed behind. It’s how we know who’s been claimed. Apart from the scar of course.” 

Alpha laughed as he made the flame disappear and reappear in his palm, Emery trying to poke it like a game of Whac-A-Mole. “Some ghouls like to leave their mark in more… hidden places. It works a foolproof way for us to tell. You kind of… always smell like me. Well, it’s more like your scent and mine combined, so we smell the same.” 

“Ew,” Emery said jokingly as he rolled his eyes and continued. 

“Even if you’re around other ghouls, their scents don’t really stick.”

“So that's why Omega used to just barge in!” She exclaimed in realization. “He only smelled you!”

It was quite embarrassing for Omega at the beginning. After she was marked and started living with Alpha in the den, Omega would often walk into their nest unannounced. The poor Quintessence ghoul often at the receiving end of Alpha’s wrath as her mate’s emotional control and possessiveness went on the fritz after being newly mated. Emery knew the two ghouls were close, and it wasn’t in their nature to be overly private creatures, so it never really crossed her mind as being anything out of the ordinary.

Alpha silently cringed, the flame returning into his palm. Wrapping his arm around Emery’s waist once again as she leaned back against him, nuzzling her nose into his neck. “Unfortunately.”

“But why is it blue?”

“It never used to be." He shrugged. "It came with age I guess.”

“Or maybeee,” she teased. “It’s because blue fire is the hottest, and so are you.”

“You’re incorrigible,” he snickered before she yelped, trying to escape the ambush of tickles peppering her sides.

[rorywritesjunk]

I can’t tell where the journey will end But I know where to start

Prequel to my Kid Buggy fic, set about 11-ish years before that story.

Buggy meets you by chance when he needs his buttons sewn back onto his jacket. He’s young, up and coming, and he thinks everyone should cower before him wherever he goes, but all you do is smile at him.

Rating: PG-13ish just for some swearing. Warning: Buggy’s in his early 20s. I also gave him some anxiety and stuff because while he’s in love he doesn’t believe someone could love him back. He just has a lot of uncertainty with romance. A/N: Meet the Family plus one that isn't really nice. I finally caved and was kind to Buggy when it comes to romancing Sunny. End of the chapter mentions sexy times but nothing graphic at all. I just realized maybe I should take pity on the fool.

Title comes from “Wake Me Up” by Avicii.

TAGLIST: @lostfirefly @ane5e @kingofthemfingpirates @the-angriest-angel @tiredemomama @valen-yamyam16 @i-reblog-fics-i-like @plethora-of-fickleness @uhnanix

Chapter 1 + Chapter 2 + Chapter 3 + Chapter 4 + Chapter 5 + Chapter 6 + Chapter 7 + Chapter 8 + Chapter 9 + Chapter 10 + Chapter 11 + Chapter 12 + Chapter 13 + Chapter 14 + Chapter 15 + Chapter 16 + Chapter 17 + Chapter 18 + Epilogue

Chapter 16

Buggy couldn't fathom the amount of cousins you had.

They were broken into four age groups apparently. The 18 and older, the 12 year olds to 17 year olds, the 6 to 11, and the babies to 5 year olds.

The five and under thought Buggy was so cool and wanted to touch his face, hair, ask if he knew tricks since he looked like a clown, and when he resorted using his Devil Fruit to pick a grabby three year old up and hand the child to you, they thought he was even cooler.

The 6 and 11 age group felt they were too old for clowns and weren't really impressed that he was a pirate captain, but when he used his abilities to get their kites out of the branches of a tree and even some toys that ended up on the roof, they decided he was okay.

The older two groups mostly judged him because he was marrying their favorite cousin (you were somehow everyone's favorite in the family and Buggy fully supported that). Some of the male cousins tried to give Buggy the whole “you hurt her you die” talk but he wasn't actually intimidated by that at all for once. Found it to be more annoying than anything.

He would never hurt you in any way.

The female cousins thought you could do better, honestly, though they did ask what his hair care routine was when they saw how long and wavy it was (Buggy refused to tell).

All in all, meeting the cousins went better than expected.

He still had to meet your aunts and uncles. You told him it should be a little less stressful than the cousins, but when your dad mentioned the hot spring that all the uncles would be going to with some drinks, he insisted Buggy come along. You weren't there to help so he had no choice but to go with Blue.

It… it was weird. Buggy somehow was surrounded by all of them, each staring at him as they enjoyed their drinks. He didn't even try to drink yet, too nervous watching and waiting for one of them to ask something but they just stared at him.

“So, our little Sunny is engaged to a pirate captain.” One of them finally said (Buggy couldn't even begin to remember names right then). Buggy could only nod, unsure if this would lead to additional questions or what.

“How long have you been a captain?”

“How long have you been a pirate?”

“You better take care of our niece or else.”

Almost the entire hour spent in the hot spring went like that. Buggy barely spoke despite being in the spotlight. Blue actually did most of the talking even though he really didn't know Buggy well, but it sounded like he asked Sunny similar questions and got some answers and well, Buggy appreciated it. He had no problem being front and center when he was on his ship but off it, surrounded by this family, he was out of his element and hating every second of it.

A tiny part of him was starting to regret agreeing to coming here with you so early into the engagement since that had become a focus of a lot of conversation, but when he headed back to the main house and saw you with your cousins, holding the ring up that he gave you with a big smile on your face, he realized he could tough it out. It had only been a few days so far.

“Buggy, follow me.” Blue said as he put his hand on the young pirate's shoulder and steered him into the house. “I don't know if my daughter told you, but after Windy and I got married, we became jewelers.”

“Huh…” Buggy only nodded, not sure why that mattered. He was led into a tiny workshop where Blue turned the lights on, giving Buggy a view of everything.

Various tools, materials, stones, everything you would need for that kind of business filled the space of the small room. The worktop has dents, scratches, some scorch marks, showing years of love and hard work. There was a bright red cloth with two rings resting on it. Buggy picked one up to look at it, almost dropping it when he saw a tiny little engraving of his jolly roger on it.

“What is this?!” Buggy demanded, wondering if Blue was copying his jolly roger for some reason.

“Well, after you two showed up and told us the happy news, I started working on wedding rings for you both.” He chuckled, suddenly looking nervous and uncomfortable. “My wife sketched out the designs and I've been working on them the last few days as a surprise, but I realize now that that's silly because you probably have something better for the two of you.”

No, no he didn't. Was Buggy supposed to? He figured the engagement ring would be enough but was having a separate ring for marriage a thing? He was also thrown off by the fact that these rings were made in such a short amount of time. It was thoughtful, touching, but Buggy didn't know what to make of it. He set the ring back down and looked up at the older man.

“We… have to have a ring for marriage?” That was the question on his mind. He didn't have rings yet, he only had the (stolen) engagement ring so hearing that there was also supposed to be a wedding ring on top of it was a little much.

To his relief, Blue just chuckled, clapping him on the shoulder. “Only if you want! You're a pirate, I'm sure you have your own traditions anyway. I just wanted to give you a gift for taking such good care of Sunny this last year. I figure you're someone special by the way her eyes light up when she talks about you.”

Buggy scowled as his cheeks burned. That wasn't the case, you took care of him. He didn't do anything worthwhile to earn the love you have for him. Why would you tell your father something different? He didn't say anything, looking back down at the rings. They were a simple band, practical for working on a ship, but he wanted something a little more to it.

“If you already have something, I understand! I know this is a bit sudden.” Blue assured him. “And if you don't like them, I'm okay with that too!”

Buggy hesitated. It was thoughtful but it was missing something.

“No, they're… fine.” He told him, jaw clenched as he looked down at the rings. “Can you just add one thing?”

~

“Yea! We can have the wedding while the whole family is here!” 

Buggy spat out his drink while you choked on yours. Your mother's sister, the second oldest, heard that you wanted just your parents and someone to officiate and well, she didn't like that idea. She wanted to see her niece get married, why couldn't everyone enjoy it? 

“We'll find an officiant, we have the space to have your fiancee's crew join us so long as they behave and we can make the reception the big family dinner we always have!” Your aunt Stormy continued. Buggy was against the idea, was ready to say so, but you took his hand and gave it a squeeze.

“We just want to keep it small.” You told her, glancing over at Buggy. “The reception can be a party, but… we just want a small wedding.”

“Nonsense. You have a huge family, Sunny, and we want to see you get married.” Stormy said, shaking her head. “We won't take no for an answer.”

“‘We’?” You repeated.

“The rest of us aunts and uncles want to see you get married. It's not fair if we don't.” Stormy chuckled. “You're the first of the kids to get married, it's only right that the rest of us get to see it.” She glanced over at Buggy. “I imagine it will be quite a spectacle going by how your fiancee… is.”

“W-What-”

“I don't know what that's supposed to mean, Aunt Stormy, but the wedding will be small.” You told her, fixing your aunt with a look that told Buggy that the conversation was over. “Me, mom, dad, Buggy, and some of his crew. That's it.” You tightened your hold on Buggy's hand. “Please excuse us.”

You didn't wait and dragged Buggy away. He noticed you were tense after that, but you also jumped to his defense before your aunt could make any other jabs at him. Spectacle? What kind of spectacle was she expecting?

You dragged him into the house, relieved no one else was in there. Everyone was outside socializing. You took his glass and put it in the sink with yours, huffing in frustration. Buggy was both a little nervous but intrigued to see you frustrated, especially since it wasn't directed at him.

“Of course she would go against our wishes.” You muttered as you started washing the glasses. “Makes it all about herself. She just wants a reason to dress up and will end up making it about her. We are not having a big wedding. I don't want it.”

“Babe?” Buggy asked carefully. 

You looked up from what you were doing, frustration in your voice when you asked, “What?!”

“D’you want to… take a break and go to the ship?” He was hesitant to even suggest it, figuring you'd rather spend time with your family than with him, especially since you have spent so much time with him already. You stared at him in surprise and he started back pedaling immediately. “I mean, this is your family, and I know you want to spend time with them, so I shouldn't have even suggested that, babe. Forget it. We can stay. I don't need to go, y’know, I just wanted you to, uh, have…a break?”

“No, no, Buggy. That's a good idea.” You told him as you dried your hands. “We just have to sneak down to the water. Who knows what my aunt is saying about the wedding now.”

Oh, that was a good idea? He was pleased with himself, smirking at you as he leaned on the counter. “Yea? Maybe we come up with other good ideas while we have some alone time.”

You grinned and tossed the dish towel aside. “Oh, and what kind of good ideas do you want to come up with, Captain?”

“We’ll just have to see, won't we?” He looked quite proud of himself for being flirty without something happening to him for once. “I'm sure we'll come up with something, babe.”

~

Something was you and Buggy in bed, naked and tired, both of you not sure how long you were in there for, both too distracted by each other to really care about time anyway. You had initiated it after Buggy made some joke about getting naked and you didn't hesitate in stripping down in front of him, grinning at the blush on his face and how wide his eyes got up on seeing you naked for the first time.

Now he was a little hesitant. You had said you weren't disgusted by his body upon knowing of his Devil Fruit powers, how limbs and parts separated when he needed them to, but he suddenly felt a little self conscious, so you walked over to him and kissed him, pulling at his clothes to encourage him. He never did this before, you had said the same, but like everything with you, he wanted it to be perfect.

He knew what to do from stories he heard growing up from the Roger Pirates and you knew what you wanted from romance novels you used to read to pass the time at the shop. And while Buggy took charge, he listened when you gave him directions on where to touch, kiss, everything. Hearing how you moaned and whined, panting his name between little gasps spurned him to make sure you screamed his name in the end.

And he was impressed he managed to keep it together when he was finally inside you, holding back to keep from finishing too quickly. There would be other times, sure, but this was the first time for both of you, and you were letting him touch you, pleasure you, and he needed it to be perfect for you. He was so in love with you.

And after all that, he was in your arms, head on your chest as your fingertips stroked down his spine while he made himself comfortable. 

“We should probably make an appearance before they come looking for us.” You sighed, making no effort to move. “I just don't want to.”

“We can stay here. The crew won't let anyone onboard.” Buggy mumbled back, eyes closed as he sank into your arms.

“I would like that since the second my aunt sees me she'll want to talk about the wedding, which is the last thing I want to do with her.” You kissed the top of his head and closed your eyes. “It's kind of late, we can make an appearance tomorrow morning. I just want to spend time with you right now.”

“Yea?” He lifted his head up, eyes wide in surprise. “You’d rather spend more time with me?”

You opened your eyes and looked at him with a frown. “Of course I would. I love you, Buggy.” Touching his cheek, you gave him a kiss as he wrapped his arms around you. “I love spending time with you.”

“Your family-”

“Yea, I'll see them tomorrow. I want to spend time with you right now.” You assured him. “Get some rest, honey.”

He nodded, settling back down with his head tucked under your chin, closing his eyes as you pulled the covers up over the two of you. He was more than happy to be in bed with you for the rest of the day, just spending time with you, not having to be surrounded by everyone else and their questions about himself and the wedding. 

Maybe Buggy could convince you to stay on the ship for the rest of the reunion.

[kizukatana]

Su She Eats His Heart Out (thread fic back-up)

Sue She eats his heart out companion fic to: The late but incendiary sexual awakening of Lan Zhan

Summary: Lan Zhan had never even acknowledged Su She’s existence except with the occasional, icy ‘You Are Not Qualified To Talk To Me’ glare. But it was fine. It wasn’t like Lan Zhan ever gave anyone else the time of day, either, other than his teachers.

The (bitter) third party pov of the epic college romance between Wei Ying and Lan Zhan

A new student transferred into the university in their second year, and Su She was gleeful to see how much Lan Zhan was irritated by him from the very first day that the student (Wei something) showed up late for class with a ratty hoodie pulled up over his head and proceeded to sleep through lecture. Finally, someone else would be the butt of everyone’s jokes as they watched Wei Ying constantly try and fail to get Lan Zhan’s attention. When midterm grades came out, Su She was expecting the guy to be humiliated. 

That was… not what happened.

Worse still, Lan Zhan was now actually turning his head to look at the guy when he spoke. And... wait, was Lan Zhan… putting his hand on the guy’s leg?!

No. Su She does not accept this.

Su She hurried to his fluid mechanics class. It was one of three courses he shared with the department’s star student, Lan Zhan.  He liked to be the first one to class, since some teachers recognized this as a sign of respect and a serious student.  Sometimes, if he was effusive enough, his professors would grade him less harshly than his peers. Midterms were coming up in less than two weeks, so he wanted to have all the teachers as favorably disposed towards him as possible.

And if he happened to arrive before Lan Zhan, then that was just an added benefit. Su She liked the slightly put-out look that Lan Zhan had when Su She managed to get the seat that Lan Zhan usually took in all his classes: middle of the front row.  Well, to be accurate, Lan Zhan’s expression never showed anything, but even though the man pretended to ignore him, Su She was sure that Lan Zhan would be rushing to the class to try to beat Su She to the seat. 

Surely after 12 years of going to school together, with Su She constantly trying to one-up Lan Zhan in every class and student club he joined, Lan Zhan would start to see him as his equal. Lan Zhan never spoke with him, never asked about him… never even seemed to look at him, but that was just because he was trying to act superior. There was no way he did not see Su She as his rival! 

And even on the small chance that Lan Zhan was too stuck up to admit their rivalry, then at least the other students would finally recognize Su She’s abilities and superiority instead of always talking about Lan Zhan: how talented he was, how smart he was, how beautiful he was.

It was ridiculous.

Su She always tried to find out which courses the Lan prodigy signed up for in advance, but was always unsuccessful. Lan Zhan ignored him when he’d asked, and no one else seemed to know, either. He knew what Lan Zhan’s majors were, so there were some courses that he would definitely be registered for. Su She always signed up to those right away.

As for any elective courses, students were allowed to switch classes up until the end of the first week.  Su She tried to adjust his schedule if he needed to, but since he and Lan Zhan were both in the acoustical engineering department, at least their core classes like fluid mechanics would overlap.  Lan Zhan was double majoring in music theory, but Su She had dropped the idea of trying to copy him in that path freshman year. You needed to have special permission from the dean of both the engineering school as well as the school of music to double-major, and Su She’s grades were not deemed sufficient.

Just another example of how Lan Zhan got special treatment. Su She might not have as good of grades, but that didn’t mean Lan Zhan was better. He had tried to get Lan Zhan to join a study group with him so he could see Lan Zhan’s answers and improve his scores a bit, but (as always), Lan Zhan had ignored him, thinking himself too good to offer to help a fellow student.

It was fine, though. Engineering had a lot of students, and a lot of them posted homework solutions online, so Su She was able to at least hold his own in those classes, especially where homework counted for a large portion of the grade. He didn’t need to copy from Lan Zhan. He would show the other student that he was just as talented when grades came out this term. He heard rumors that someone had found a way to hack into a few of the professors’ accounts, where the exams for the semester were kept. If other people got to see them, then Su She should, as well. Lan Zhan probably had friends in the department who let him see the tests in advance, since his uncle taught at the university in the school of fine arts.

Su She would be just as admired as Lan Zhan if he had those same advantages. Lan Zhan just didn’t like him because he wasn’t as wealthy as Lan Zhan’s family was. It was all just elitism.

Su She gritted his teeth when he entered the lecture room and saw Lan Zhan already seated, his notebook and pen neatly laid out on his desk. In every class since they had first met in the very exclusive grade school when they were 8 years old, Lan Zhan has sat in the middle seat in the front row of the class. In every class since they met, Lan Zhan was always the teacher’s favorite student, and always got the highest score (usually by quite a large margin) in the class.  

Always.

It had continued in college. Even though the exam scores were always posted by student ID number, not the students’ names, everyone knew which number was Lan Zhan’s, because it was always the top score.

And as if that was not bad enough, Lan Zhan made it look effortless. He was never late, never tired, his clothing was always elegantly perfect, his long hair always without a strand out of place up in an elegant bun or in a smooth braid over his shoulder.  Lan Zhan drew everyone’s gaze, wherever he was. And the guy didn’t even care. He would just walk right by, ignoring everyone.

He especially always ignored Su She.

Su She had watched Lan Zhan for years. When he had managed to (just barely) get into the same Engineering school as Lan Zhan, he had finally thought that he might have earned at least a ‘hello’ from Lan Zhan. But no matter what he did, Lan Zhan never looked twice at him. Never even acknowledged Su She’s existence except with the occasional haughty glare when someone accused Su She of cheating or not doing his portion of a group project.. 

But it was fine. It wasn’t like Lan Zhan ever gave anyone else the time of day, either, other than his teachers. 

The professor had not yet entered the room, and many of the other students in the classroom were clustered in small groups, talking.  While this was not an unusual event, the level of chatter was somewhat more animated than usual. Lan Wangji tried to tune it out, not interested in gossip, but they were speaking loud enough to make it impossible for at least some of their words to reach him.  

“Do you know who he is?”

“I heard he’s a transfer student. I think he’s in the second year class.”

“He couldn’t be. My roommate said the guy is in his Quantum Field Theory class.”

“Your roommate has to be wrong. They don't allow undergraduates in that class. You have to like… get special permission from the Dean to do that, and I think it’s only happened, like, twice in the history of the school. This guy wouldn’t stand a chance.””

“They must really have lowered the standards for transfers if he got in.”

“Look at him! His sweatshirt has a hole in the sleeve!”

“So disrespectful.”

“He slept through the entire class!”

“I bet the teachers all hate him.”

“How did he even get in? Everyone is supposed to pass the admissions test. There’s no way he passed it.”

"I heard he was a simmer. Was it a sports thing?"

“Gusu doesn’t care about things like that! Admission is supposed to be on academic merit only.”

“Maybe his parents know someone on the board of admissions?”

“Are you kidding? Did you see how worn out his clothing was?”

“Then how do you explain it?”

The teacher walked in and conversation cut off.

It was about twenty minutes into the lecture when the door opened and a student wearing a faded red hoodie (with the hood pulled up) and ratty jeans walked in and slid into a desk in the back of the classroom.

The professor paused, but continued on with his lecture.

Su She assumed that this must be the transfer student that everyone had been gossiping about at the start of class. Students kept turning around to look at him, which only annoyed the professor further. Of course, Lan Zhan never turned to look once, facing the instructor and diligently taking notes in his expensive, leather bound notebook with his stupidly perfect penmanship, just to show how much better he was than everyone else.

“Since none of you seem to feel the need to listen to my lecture today, I will be posting an extra homework tonight on the topics focused on in class. It’s due by midnight.”

The class groaned, some of them looking back to glare at the new guy, but he appeared to have fallen asleep in his desk.

Su She smirked. He could already imagine how much the other students were going to hate the new guy. 

When class ended, everyone stood to leave, but the new student was still asleep. Lan Zhan glanced back when he stood, his expression looking even more judgemental than usual. Lan Zhan glared briefly at the sleeping student, then turned and walked from the room. The professor was also glaring at the back row, and was stalking over, likely to wake the sleeping student up.  

Su She looked back at him one more time. Was that duct tape holding his shoe together? Su She snorted out a laugh. He gave the guy two weeks before he flunked out. Whatever fluke had let him transfer mid-term, it was clearly a mistake. Someone should file a complaint with the admissions committee. Maybe he would copy his professor on his complaint, to see if it could earn him some brownie points.

Su She contemplated how best to go about that as he headed off to his next class.

Su She only had one class with the new student, but he heard enough about him from the others to know that the new student’s name is Wei Ying, and everyone is counting the days until he drops out and goes back to wherever he transferred from. Evidently he slept through or missed half of his classes (the ones where participation or attendance did not count as part of the grade).

The next day in class, Wei Ying wasn’t there at the start of class. The instructor began the class by saying that only two people in the entire class got a passing grade on the homework set he’d assigned last time.

“Lan Zhan. Excellent work, as always.” 

The professor didn’t say who the other person was, and Su She wondered who it was. He usually had a pretty good sense of who the best people in the class to study with were. Lan Zhan, of course, thought he was too good to study with him, and said it was against the rules for a student to copy from another’s work. Which was ridiculous, because the professors said that students were allowed to work together. It wasn’t Su She’s fault that Lan Zhan always wanted to do all the work himself, and then not let anyone see what he’d done. 

Su She would ask around and find out who the other person was. The instructor was an unfairly harsh grader on the homeworks, which was usually the part that carried Su She’s grade to make up for whatever he did on the exams.

Wei Ying came in late (though less late than the prior class), wearing another ratty, oversized hoodie (black, this time) and the instructor gave him an annoyed look. 

“Wei Ying. So nice of you to finally join us. Since you were late last time, you might not have heard that midterms are in two weeks. I expect all of the assignments from the semester to date to be completed by then. I understand that this was the agreement you made with the Dean, so I expect you to be on time with your work. You will not be allowed extensions on the current assignments.”

Su She almost felt bad for the guy. Each assignment took at least four hours, some of them had taken Su She and his study group the entire night. They were already six weeks into the semester, and there had been a lot of assignments. 

“Yeah. I submitted the first batch online last night, Professor Xang,” Wei Ying said, as he slouched down in his desk, already looking half asleep.

“Hm,” Professor Xang said skeptically, eying him narrowly. “Then I will look forward to grading your work.”

The sarcastic tone in his voice was unmistakable. Professor Xhang was a total hardass about grading work, always looking to take heavy points off even the tiniest of mistakes. Su She had tried to argue once that he shouldn’t lose nearly half the credit for just a minus sign and decimal point error, and Professor Xhang had said he hoped to never have the misfortune of using anything Su She designed in the future. If he already disliked Wei Ying, Professor Xhang was going to be even more brutal than usual. Su She wondered if someone should tell the newbie that it might not be worth his time to even submit them, with the number of points he was likely to get.

Su She snickered at the thought, and several people (including Lan Zhan), turned to glare at him, which was totally unfair. Su She was not the one being disrespectful wearing ratty clothes and sleeping through class. At the comment, Wei Ying looked up from where he was slouched. Su She realized it was the first time he’d ever gotten a good look at the guy’s face. Wei Ying had a crooked grin and a look that immediately set Su She’s teeth on edge. People who looked like that always thought they were so special. He’d heard one of the female students in the cafeteria talking about how the new guy was ‘so hot’. He’d rolled his eyes and ignored it at the time. Some people just liked to rebel by liking ‘bad boys’, regardless of their actual worth or skill. Well, she wouldn’t be thinking he’s so hot once Wei Ying failed his midterms.

“Then I’ll look forward to your thoughts, Professor Xhang. Thank you for instructing this one.” 

Wei Ying’s tone was not exactly disrespectful, but it was definitely cocky. Professor Xhang narrowed his eyes but made no further comment. He would have the last laugh when he graded the transfer student’s work, and everyone knew it.  Su She couldn’t wait for him to be taken down a peg.

Su She looked around the room, expecting to see Lan Zhan at least looking as annoyed as Su She felt. Wei Ying was everything Lan Zhan always hated: disrespectful, untidy, and lazy in his classes. He was surprised to see Lan Zhan looking at Wei Ying with… absolutely no expression at all. 

Su She huffed. He supposed Lan Zhan thought the new guy wasn’t even worth glaring at. He was right. Su She would ignore Wei Ying as well. There would be no class next week except for study sessions, but the week after that would be the exam. Even though he, himself, was not feeling very confident about the upcoming test, he was looking forward to seeing the new guy bite it.

And hey, maybe it would even bring the curve down. They’d finally have someone to balance out Lan Zhan.

With that pleasing thought in mind, Su She returned to taking notes, in the new notebook he had found that was almost exactly like the one Lan Zhan was using.

[hyvcklvr]

[12:06 p.m.] Force of Attraction

It was recess, and when Renjun walked into the class, it was almost practically empty, with maybe two or three students sitting here and there. His eyes searched the room carefully till they landed on your figure, your head on the desk, facing the window beside you. He walked up to you and gave you a soft nudge. No response. He sat on the seat in front of yours and peered over your head to see your face, only to find out you were asleep. He shook his head. "This girl will fall asleep anywhere at any time." He muttered to himself. Looking around he realised that even the two or three people in the room had left, and both of you were alone in the classroom. The weather was nice, a cool wind accompanied by warm sunlight which fell on your face. Renjun examined how calm and different you looked when you were not always talking and laughing. He found himself putting his head next to yours, facing you. He felt something weird in his chest. He'd always thought about how he befriended you. He was a quiet, serious kid. And then you came in, like a splash of colour in his back and white life. You took him to new places, to new friends, to new thoughts, and new feelings. And he would never admit it, but he'd follow you everywhere. Renjun always found himself wondering, what force attracted him to you? He observed you more, as if he were the critic and you, the artwork. He'd always admired your ability of talking to everybody and making friends everywhere. For the first time maybe, he found himself admiring your beauty. "You're pretty." He found himself whispering, and he immediately sat up. There's no way he just called you pretty, he thought to himself. The sudden movement of the desk caused you to wake up, and you opened your eyes, immediately squinting because of the sunlight. "Ouch, shit." You muttered, sitting up and fixing your already messy hair. You then noticed Renjun, who had successfully collected himself together again. "You were sitting here all the time watching me sleep?" You asked, to which he nodded. "You actually look nice when you're not blabbering all the time." He said, and you found yourself rolling your eyes and looking away. "Gee, thanks." You said, your cheeks giving you away. It was almost embarrassing, you thought. Blushing at the bare minimum? That was so not like you. But then again, this might have just been the first time Renjun had ever given you a compliment. "Wow I think the sunlight blinded me. You could've atleast covered the sun with your hand or something." Renjun gave you a weird look as you scooted closer to him, cupping his cheeks in your hand and letting out a sigh, shaking your head. "Tch Renjun, where are your romantic cells at? How will you ever get yourself a girl?" You said, patting his cheeks before letting go. Renjun gave you his familiar glare which you were used to. "I don't want to." He muttered in a low voice. "unless its you." some subconscious part of his mind said. "Shut up." he said in his mind."Sure you don't." You smiled. You looked at the time and suddenly got up, grabbing Renjun's hand. "Recess is almost over, but we still have some time. Let's go get a drink from the cafeteria. I'm craving some milk." And before Renjun could say something, you were pulling him with you, like you always do. And Renjun was following you, shaking his head as you jumped and skipped across class, pulling at his arm. Like he always did He found himself smiling, maybe, looking at you. He still wondered what kind of force of attraction he was experiencing.

requests open!

[shadow-ren]

Obey Me Nightbringer - Theory

Obey Me Nightbringer! Spoilers and Thoughts undercut

It is kind of long and rambly.

I was in the middle of going through Lesson 11 and 12 thoughts, but nope, our devs decided to drop Lesson 13 instead and leave it on a cliffhanger, like usual.

The first thing is damn you Barbatos. You know what the hell is going on and you refuse to tell us because you need us to do our own thing. I need to say that before I go on. I love him, but I wanna make him eat Solomon's cooking right now.

That screenshot is just one of those several times where he gets very quiet, knowingly quiet. I've said it before and I'm pretty sure that Barbatos is Nightbringer. Everything is just pointing to Barbatos being Nightbringer and if it is not him, then it is a demon we have yet to meet.

I have many thoughts and theories of what is happening and what is going to happen. I'll try to simplify them, but one is that Nightbringer did not bring us down there with malicious intent. They truly wanted us to be happy as they said,

The main thing that I can think of, it is just a theory, but I believe this is the beginning of our story. What we have gathered from hints and tidbits is that Nightbringer can see the future, and past and is very powerful which is why it makes sense to be Barbatos. It gives them the ability to see what will or could happen. I don't believe there was a time when it specifically said that it was a concrete thing. The future will be based on our choices. We are a wildcard that has great power.

Diavolo compared our power to the level of a grimoire, that book that makes a demon obey you without a pact. That high-level magic. We are always told we are powerful, but we truly frightened Lucifer when we got that grimoire. All the more impact it made when we gave him the book instead of using it. A choice that Solomon didn't realize we would do. We are always surprising the others to no end which is amusing, but again, we are a true wildcard. I am getting kind of sidetracked. Back to my point, our power gives us the ability to choose. We were told our choices would make an impact in this game and I believe others have stated it as well- we can choose how the future will change. It is a running theme of just how unhinged we are, of how our choices keep shocking those around us, time and time again.

So why am I bringing all that up? Simple, we are at the center just like Solomon was before. Being forced to pick a side- one of 3: Celestial Realm, Devildom, or the Human World. Solomon picked. We know what he picked, but Solomon also didn't have any real attachments to the up or down. We do.

We've made friends with angels, demons, and even a neutral party. We have a connection with all three worlds, strong connections and we could go anyway which is very dangerous. Our connections made a new thing called 'The Ring' that make chaos in all three worlds. It was so powerful and unstable that it could've killed us and everyone if it wasn't severed or we got to stabilize it with the ring of light. We are powerful and are a threat. That is why Diavolo tried to send us back to the human world(which wouldn't work anyway) and why the mystery voice decided to warn us.

Who do I think this is? Simple, Michael. It makes the most sense. Let's talk about Michael aka the Sugar Jellyfish for a second. He is a very interesting character to me. We have yet to actually physically meet him in-game, but he sure does know a lot about us. It is quite possible he heard everything from Luke and Simeon after all, but Raphael tells us that he learned a lot of MC from Michael.

Michael is such a strange existence for me. He is a powerful being like Diavolo and of course, Lucifer. He is Diavolo's counterpart at this point more than likely since they are the de-facto rules of their respective realms. He shares a similar personality to Lucifer - they were like "twins" as Satan has put it. He was known to talk to out and not use violence as that was Lucifer's goto.

"Michael is calm, yet stern, when he is angry. He prefers to talk rather than use physical discipline, in contrast with Lucifer." - Obey Me Wiki (Michael). That is a great way to put it, but he wasn't above physical discipline.

Now, what about that sentence about the Celestial Realm being less tolerable regarding our behavior? That could be from the original game. We were getting very close to the Devildom. It is shifting the power too much for the CR's liking.

Barbatos said it all in the first game. After all, this is a continuation of the first game. When you finish lesson 80 the door will instruct you to go to Nightbringer to continue the story. When we were in the coma, the voice brought up the fact that they saved us before.

In the first game, there are only 2 separate events that the voice could be referring to. The event when we received the ring of light(38-17) OR when we got sent back in time in a dream from eating Solomon's cooking(44-18). I believe they are referring to when we were sent in the past. The Ring of Light saved us, not the voice in the ring event, but the voice did send us back to our own time from the food event. They also have the same tone.

Plus time wise- it makes sense. We were sent back when the brothers were still angels. So this event of us promising and falling under the curse technically happened after this. It makes more sense for the voice to refer to that than the Ring of Light event. If this is Michael, it makes sense he is still on edge. The war just ended, and the wound is still fresh. Time hasn't passed enough that he has come to regret his actions because he does. He has thoughts of what ifs and could haves. Luke tells us this about Michael looking at where the brothers' pictures used to be, about he's always asking about them, he kept so much stuff of Lucifers. He loved the brothers and misses them.

So if go by that, the event the voice has to be referring to is during Lesson 8 when we helped Adam. We opened the gate. We weren't supposed to open the gate. No one should be able to do that, yet we did. We did the impossible. We did it to help Adam. It wasn't meant to be a threat, but the CR sure saw it like that.

After all, no one knows us. We are in the past before we could make the friends we already have. We only have Solomon. The brothers and others aren't the ones we know. While Barbatos (probably) knows, he can't say anything. He has to let us do our own thing.

Nightbringer = Barbatos

New/ Old voice = Michael

I'm sure they are the same people that were talking to Solomon (10-A).

So again, I don't think Nightbringer brought us there with malicious intent. I think they brought us there for a reason- that reason is for us to be happy. And how are we happy?

We are happy where we were, with our friends that we made from all 3 worlds. The only way to have that is to get the ball rolling to where the story we know of will begin. When we are summoned to a certain council room as the new human exchange student.

So I think this is the beginning of our story and to start that, we have to make the world stable enough for us to be brought down in the first place.

There are still holes in this theory and will change as the lessons are released I'm sure since Candy(Thirteen's sister) might play a part in this since she keeps getting mentioned. There are bits that refer to Nightbringer as a demon and not a demon, but honestly, I think that is just meant to confuse the reader. Plus I like the fact that when Nightbrigher talks, the background is dark like the devildom, but when the other voice talks, we get light like the CR and when we were in the curse, first we spoke to NB then the other voice before we woke up. The reflection of the two is amusing to me.

[thnxforknowingme]

All's Fair (1/?)

Pairing: Kurtbastian

Rating: T

Summary: Sebastian’s pride is on the line when Hunter bets that he can’t seduce Kurt Hummel - and to sweeten the deal, there’s a monetary wager, too. When Kurt finds out, he suggests subterfuge: he and Sebastian will pretend to date, prove Hunter wrong, and split the winnings. It’s the perfect plan, so long as they don’t mess it up.

Notes: Written as part of the @kurtbastianarchive Kurtbastian Prompt Fest 2023, based on prompt #12 by @aurumjank! Timelines and plotlines from canon have been changed, but that should be made clear through the story itself. I have most of the plot planned out already, so I should be posting updates pretty regularly!

Mild warning for teenage boys being crude in this chapter.

It was the first week back after Spring Break, and the Dalton locker room was boisterous and chaotic as both the lacrosse and water polo teams finished afternoon practice. Despite the cacophony of running showers, slamming locker doors, and raucous conversation, one voice rose above the noise as varsity water polo center Lucas Heathmore regaled everyone in earshot about the X-rated exploits of his weekend at his girlfriend’s parentless house.

Lucas sat on a bench, hair and skin still damp, holding court. Boys cheered, laughed, and offered fist bumps as he said, “We’d been going so hard she could barely get out of bed on Sunday!”

Finally, Sebastian couldn’t take it anymore. He finished pulling on his shirt, ran a hand through his hair, and fixed Lucas with his most condescending smile.

“Heathmore,” he interrupted, loud enough to catch the attention of everyone around them. “If I wanted a play-by-play of the most rote heterosexual exchange of bodily fluids in all of history, I would have picked up a pulpy romance novel at the airport on my way back from Aspen.”

Lucas glared up at him. “Shut up, Smythe. You’re just jealous.”

Some of the half-clothed boys around them oohed in response to the insult, but Sebastian gave a genuine laugh. “I hooked up with three ski instructors at one party on Saturday,” he retorted. “There’s nothing about your life that I envy.”

“Whatever, Smythe,” Lucas said, standing up and slinging his bag over his shoulder. “I’m personally not lining up to get fucked in the ass.”

Sebastian grinned as Lucas retreated from the locker room, accompanied by most of the water polo team. “Don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it!” he called out.

The brief verbal spar over, most of the athletes went back to their private conversations, and the locker room emptied out as the boys went their separate ways. There were only a handful of lacrosse players left when another voice addressed Sebastian.

“Your bragging grows tiresome, Smythe.” 

Sebastian grit his teeth and turned to see Hunter Clarington leaning against his locker at the end of the row, a towel slung over his shoulders. Ever since Hunter had shown up at the start of the school year, he’d been a constant thorn in Sebastian’s side. He’d joined the Warblers and the lacrosse team, and seemed to have made it his personal mission to jockey for every position of power Sebastian had built up at Dalton. Moreover, his personality was even more obnoxious than the average prep school boy. Who was he calling tiresome?

“It’s the same story every weekend,” Hunter went on, “and I have to say I’m bored with it. So, the desperate young gay men of Western Ohio and a couple of bicurious snow bums are obsessed with you. Or at least, with what you can offer them in a dark corner for twenty minutes.”

Sebastian heard a laugh from one of his teammates, and bristled. “Are you questioning my seduction abilities?”

Hunter shrugged. “I’m saying that you have game in a very particular context. There’s no way you could woo a man who actually had standards.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes. “Careful with that kind of slander, Clarington. If I was interested in romance, I could have it.”

“Oh yeah?” Hunter asked, his smile making it clear that he had Sebastian exactly where he wanted him. “Then prove it. I bet you couldn’t get…Hummel, the new kid. No way would he ever go out with you, let alone hook up with you.”

Sebastian shut his locker. He thought about pointing out that Hunter was also a new kid - Kurt Hummel had transferred to Dalton only a couple months after Hunter had. He had to admit that there was something perennially new-kid-ish about Hummel, though. Even wearing the uniform, he seemed to stick out as someone who didn’t belong. “He has eyes - I’m sure he’d go out with me if I asked.” Sebastian said. “I just have less than zero interest in that.”

Hunter was being annoyingly persistent. “Okay, then ask him out. No, better - get him to go to Spring Gala with you.”

The Spring Gala was Dalton’s version of prom - the social event of the year, and the kind of buttoned-up, faculty-chaperoned party Sebastian absolutely despised.

“And why would I subject myself to that?” Sebastian asked.

Hunter smiled. “To substantiate your bragging rights. And, I don’t know, let’s make this interesting. For…a thousand dollars?” He glanced around at the few lacrosse players that made up their audience. “Does that seem fair, gentlemen?”

Sebastian nearly retorted about not needing the money, but he recognized the bait. This wasn’t about the actual wager - it was about Hunter trying to put him in his place, just like he had been all year. It was a power play, in front of their peers.

Well, Sebastian wasn’t about to take that lying down.

“Fine,” he agreed. “I’m very much looking forward to taking your allowance away.”

Hunter held out his hand, and Sebastian shook it firmly. “Right,” Hunter said easily. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

.

Kurt was switching out textbooks between classes when Sebastian Smythe appeared at his side, leaning languorously against the neighboring locker.

“Hey there, Kurt,” he said.

Kurt stowed his chemistry binder neatly away. “Sebastian,” he acknowledged. “Can I help you?”

“Sure,” Sebastian said. “You can give me your number, and let me take you out this Saturday.”

Kurt turned to meet Sebastian’s eyes, and found him closer than expected. The guy had no concept of personal space. “Excuse me?”

Sebastian grinned, and Kurt found himself mildly impressed with how nice his teeth were. He had a very close view of them, after all. “You heard me. I’ve been intrigued by you ever since you mysteriously transferred mid-year and started pitching subversive ideas to the Warblers. Let me take you out and find out what makes you tick.” Sebastian winked. “I guarantee you won’t regret it.”

Kurt raised an eyebrow. He’d never been asked out by a boy before, and the simple concept of it did make his heart leap a little. But he had also never exchanged more than a polite word with Sebastian Smythe. He thought Sebastian was cocky and narcissistic, and he was pretty sure Sebastian had hated every one of the so-called subversive changes Kurt had suggested to the Warbler council.

He examined Sebastian’s face, then glanced down the hall, where he could see a group of lacrosse players watching them, and then quickly looking away. Something clicked in his mind.

“This is a prank,” Kurt said matter-of-factly. “Nice try.”

He shut his locker and turned away, heading towards his next class.

“Hey, wait, no -” Sebastian followed him, brushing up against Kurt’s shoulder as he walked alongside him. “This isn’t a prank, Kurt, I’m serious. Come on, don’t leave me hanging.”

“You’re not gonna convince me,” Kurt insisted, refusing to slow down or make eye contact.

“Seriously, I’m not joking, I really -” Sebastian grabbed Kurt’s elbow, and when Kurt jerked away from him they both froze, standing in the middle of the hallway while other students flowed around them.

“Don’t touch me,” Kurt warned, glaring at him.

Sebastian looked at him for a moment, his expression calculating. “Okay, fine,” he relented. He looked around the busy hall. “It’s not a joke, but it is - just let me walk you to class. I’ll explain.”

They held their standoff for another moment. Kurt took a deep breath. “Fine,” he agreed.

When they continued walking, Sebastian spoke in a low voice. He stayed close enough for Kurt to hear, but kept some space between them. “It’s not a prank,” he said. “But it is a bet.”

“Oh my god,” Kurt said. “I think that’s actually more despicable.”

“It’s stupid, but Hunter put me up to it, and I really want to prove him wrong.” They arrived outside Kurt’s English classroom, but Sebastian kept talking when Kurt stilled. “I don’t care about fucking you over,” he said, and then shrugged, “although that might have been kind of fun. I just really don’t want him to hold this over me. He’s going to be a nightmare all year if you don’t go out with me.”

“Is that the upshot of the bet?” Kurt asked. “Just that either one of you gets to be smug?”

“Well,” Sebastian replied, “that and a thousand bucks.”

Kurt nearly dropped the books he was holding. He glanced around at the students that were still passing them. The bell was going to ring soon, but he was suddenly interested in continuing this conversation.

“Come on,” he told Sebastian, walking further down the corridor until he found the student lounge, currently empty. Once they were alone, Kurt turned back to Sebastian. “A thousand dollars?”

Sebastian crossed his arms. “Yeah. That was the bet part of the bet.”

Kurt briefly closed his eyes before speaking. “So you’re telling me that if I agree to go out with you, you’re gonna get paid a thousand dollars?”

“Yeah,” Sebastian said. “Well, actually, if you agree to date me and we go to Spring Gala together.”

Kurt nodded, his mind still spinning. In the span of a few minutes he’d been asked on his first date, found out it was simply part of a cruel wager, and then discovered that there was a ridiculous amount of money on the line. Any derision or hurt he might feel about the situation had been overridden by shock - and then by the spark of an idea that might allow him to make the most of the unenviable position he’d been put in.

He considered the possibilities. Was he really going to do this?

Yes, yes he was.

He straightened his posture and said, “Well, that changes things.”

Sebastian tilted his head, one edge of his lips quirking up. “It does?”

“Yeah,” Kurt confirmed. “Look - a thousand dollars might not be an absurd amount of money to you, or to Hunter, but I want that money. So here’s the deal - I’ll pretend to date you, pretend to fall for you, go as your date to the Spring Gala - if you cut me in on the deal. I get five-hundred.”

Sebastian blinked. “Oh my god, Hummel, I thought you were totally lame, but you’re diabolical.”

The first bell rang through the halls, signaling that they had sixty seconds to get to class on time. “Do we have a deal, or what?” Kurt asked.

Sebastian grinned. “You’re gonna have to talk more nicely to me if people are going to believe you’re in love with me.”

Kurt rolled his eyes. “If we pull this off, I’m putting it on college applications as an acting credit.”

“So we’re on for Saturday night?” Sebastian asked.

Kurt shook his head. “I’m going home this weekend.”

Sebastian scoffed. “Not if it means missing out on a date with me.”

The self-assuredness in Sebastian’s voice was grating, although Kurt knew that if someone he actually liked had really asked him out on a date, he would have stayed at Dalton for the weekend without question. “Let’s just tell people we went on a date,” he suggested. “We don’t actually have to do it.”

“Hunter is going to see through that in a second,” Sebastian argued. “What happened to your commitment? This is method acting, and you have half a grand on the line.”

Kurt scowled, already questioning his decision. “Fine. I’ll leave Saturday morning, we can have a date on Friday, okay? Meet me outside of Geary Hall.”

“It’s a date,” Sebastian said with that self-satisfied smile, and the final bell rang.