#its less than a minute of dialogue clicking and somehow

[lumen-tellus]

how did we go from this

to fucking This

[yanderesimps]

Destined torture

Yandere Katsuki Bakugou x Reader

(Warnings: Unrequited love, forced relationships, forced intimacy, angst, obsession, soulmates AU)

❁-----------------------------------------------❁

It wasn't easy to avoid the blonde when you're the childhood friend of one of his main targets for bullying. Izuku Midoriya, the boy from across the street with a somewhat concerning all might addiction.

You two met in the park one day, stumbling over as you loomed over the greed haired boy as he played in the sandpit. The two of you had sat in awkward silence for a few minutes, always keeping about a meters distance between yourselves as you eyed each other quietly as shy children do.

Until you mumbled about how you liked his all might action figures and his eyes lit up like the night sky, filled with unimaginable excitement. It had all gone up from there of course but now instead you'd both graduated from harmless kiddies to slightly less harmless adolescents.

That of course meant that you had the pleasure to often have deal with the rampaging temper and relentless bullying of a certain Katsuki Bakugou. That wasn't to say that he'd always be such a brat, only ever giving you the brunt of his lashings when he would spy you with Izuku in the school halls.

For years he mercilessly hassled Izuku and it had only ever gotten worse when your classmates had begun to develop their quirks. Izuku, much to his dismay, had to face the bitter truth that he was indeed quickless.

You were almost afraid that your quick would've widened the divide between you two but it somehow in a weird way brought you two even closer if they was humanly possible. By all means, your quick wasn't flashy and explosive like Bakugou's but it had been noteworthy, nothing that get you into UA but respective nevertheless.

When Bakugou would begin his precise schedule of tormenting Izuku, you were steadfast in defending your best friend much to Bakugou's annoyance.

But when you spied Bakugou in the halls today, you'd expected the worst. Your lips twisted into a blatent frown which could make even Endeavour's fire run cold.

Bakugou approached, his hands shoved into his baggy trouser as he stood in front of you, his delinquent friend thankfully no where to be seen. You two stood in raging silence that seemed to ring louder in your ears that your thoughts of contempt for the boy in front of you.

Pulling a hand out of his trousers, you almost expected a bloody nose but soon found yourself staring at a crinkled envelope. You stared at the letter for a few moments before darting your unimpressed glare back to meet the red pupils that stated right back at you.

"Is this a new tecnique? Come to defeat me through the power of paper cuts?" You tittered, resisting the growing earge to swat the paper from his hand.

The blonde clicked his tongue at your sarcasm, thrusting the letter closer to you. "It's an invitation, dumbass, my birthday is next week and the hag made me give you this since she thinks we're friends or whatever"

"Oh my goodness! Why didn't you just say so? I'll make sure to put this in my files, right in the "remember to burn" section" You sang in fake glee, your mocking joyful expression soon falling back into its usual scowl when in the company of the blonde.

Bakugou's eye seemed to twitch slightly at your works and you could practically smell the caremel scent in the air heating up. Surprising, he didn't even say anything and simply turned on his heel to leave. "Well that was...boring" you said with almost a huff. In the past, making bakugou angry was something you actively avoided like the plague but now? It was nothing more than a fun family activity.

So when you didn't feel the flesh of your cheeks burning from 3rd degree burns it was nothing less than a shock. You could almost felt the bright heavens radiating down upon you. Had katsuki bakugou finally developed an actual personality that didn't involve being a dick?

Of course not.

But that still didn't explain why he was inviting you to a fucking birthday party.

It practically struck you like a brick when you realised what this meant.

Bakugou was now one year older

It was the day that everyone seemed to yern for. The day of the mark. A mark that would tell you the name of your soulmate. A mark that would appear on your 16th birthday.

It was bakugou's birthday.

He was turning 16 in one week.

And all that was just more gloating material.

There were quickless people which was bad enough. If you were quickless, you were seen as weaker, lesser and not normal but having no soul mark? It was practically a death sentence. You were seen as unlovable, unlikeable and unwanted. You were abnormal and disgusting. And ever since a certain blonde had developed a knat for explosions and Izuku hadn't, never having a soulmark was the first bullet in Katsuki's rifle when it came to his conquest of making Izuku's life a living nightmare.

And now for the next few months until your birthday it was all you two were going to hear about.

Heaven's gates swung closed right then and there and the pits of hell threatened to swallow you right there.

"Y/n"

You suddenly snapped out of your inner dialogue to see Deku approaching you with a slightly worried expression. Perhaps you'd been spending too much time standing silently while imagine your future months of torment from bakugou.

You pulled an eneasy grin and rubbed the back of your neck nervously. "No it's fine! Just fine!"

The boys face lit up with his classic smile that made your own heart warm. "great! Wanna get lunch then?" Clasping his arm you nodded with a stark grin. "Let go. I'm starving"

....

...

..

"What's you favorite type of coffin, Izuku?"

_______

There was no amount of pleading that would have gotten you out of this situation, no matter how hard you pleaded to your mother. She didn't even care that your funeral would be expensive.

So now here you were.

In a dress.

Your hair dolled up.

Make-up.

Planning out your 13th reason why.

Standing outside bakugou's home with a present clasped in your hands, the decently loud chatter within taughting you like the drums of War but then again you were practically about to dive into the trenches.

Your numb finger pressed the doorbell, your heart seemed to stutter at the sound of a nearing voice.

"Katsuki! Open your presents later!!" screeched a voice of whom you could only assume was miss Bakugou. The door opened the woman in front of you visable brightened as she glowed down upon you.

"Y/n, what a pleasant surprise, get in here! Katsuki's in the back garden" The woman's mood had practically done a full 180° at a mere glance of your slightly shaky form. "I'll take that, now go in and have fun with the others" She hummed with a wild smile as she took the neatly wrapped present from your sweaty palms. You merely nodded in response, finding that your throat had closed in on itself making it impossible to even swallow down your initial fear.

You could hear the distant cheering, chatting and occasional parent's voice as you walked further into the house, closer to the clear glass slide door that revealed the decoration littered back garden.

There only kids you could see were the possy that would always surround the blonde haired boy, the occasional guy you'd know from class and almost ever girl that would drop to their knees in the hope of katsuki bakugou noticing them.

Most never glanced at you, some glared at you in disgust but one particular pair of red eyes were fixated on you the moment you stepped in the garden.

You nearly cried tears of joy that the make up had taken so long since it seemed you'd actually missed the majority of the festivities. "In and out. This'll all be over soon" You hummed, trying to pathetically console yourself.

You'd made a beeline for the corner with the least amount of people, seating yourself on a lawn chair before quickly pulling out your phone, ideally hoping that you'd allowed to spend the next hour just lazily scrolling through your phone before grabbing a slice of cake and leaving.

Sadly, that wasn't what fate had instore. You looked up from your phone screen as a shadow suddenly loomed over you. "What? Not even gonna give me a happy birthday" Bakugou sneered, glaring down at you. Your own expression twisted into the perfect rendition of what the word "hatred" meant. Your eyes narrowed, your nose crumpled and lips fell into a neat frown. "I'm sure you'll find a way to survive without my half heart congratulations"

The boy above you nearly smiled at your words as he clicked his tounge and sat on the chair next to you. "Not even curious to find out who my soulmate is?" You raised and eyebrow but your expression remained the same. You took a mere glance at his wrist, only to see it covered before returning your gaze. That seemed to satisfy the boy in front of you as his grin widened visably.

"Don't flatter yourself, I'm just praying for the poor soul that is destined to be with you for the rest of their days"

Bakugou just laughed and then left, leaving you in a puddle of confusion. He should've already gotten his soul mark, so why wasn't he parading it around like he did with everything?

You didn't give it another though, returning to your phone for the next while and brushing off the unsettling feeling the crawled up your spine.

__________

It wasn't surprising that they waited for the big reveal after bakugou had blown out his candles. You were just mildly aggrivated that such torture was continously being forced upon you rather than just letting you go home.

Everyone had crowded around the table where the cake sat. You, for some reason, found yourself stood at the corner of the table nearest to bakugou who stood in the center alone as the other surrounded the other sides.

Ms Bakugou had placed a hand on your shoulder and who you looked up to ask her why she was so clingy, she merely silenced you with a toothy smile.

She seemed to be excited about something.

Everyone had begun a countdown as katsuki raised his hand to everyone, lightly gripping his sleeve that hid the name of his future beloved.

You simply joined in hopes that the scene would go by faster, you didn't even look when he pulled down the arm of his jacket. You only notice the silence that followed after.

Then you noticed the eyes burrowed upon you.

The tightening grip on your shoulder.

Bakugou's glare.

How he was lightly smiling.

Then you noticed your first name neatly written into the flesh of his wrist.

The world seemed to slow then it had all soon went by like a blur just like you. Reality seemed to slip away at the seems and all you could do was slightly nod at the voices of congratulations and bright smiles of bakugou's parents. Disoriented, eyes pickled with tears as your dry throat struggled to find words.

Why was Katsuki still smiling?

__________

You'd been branded that day.

"Katsuki's girl"

Always finding a firery arm latched around your waist or shoulders as you were paraded down that halls like a spectacle for the ages.

You weren't allowed to speak to Izuku anymore or any guy for that matter. It wasn't like any of them risked their necks to talk to you anyway ever since Katsuki claimed you, broadcasting his mark like a trophy, a fitting collar that was locked around your neck.

You found yourself seated with the popular girl at every lunch when Katsuki didn't cling to you, people who you once years to be next to and chat with. Now it just felt empty. Empty conversation. Empty smiles. Empty happiness.

You would sometimes catch Izuku's eye in the hallways as a river of words went unsaid between you two. Then katsuki would tell him to "fuck off" before dragging you to class.

Life wasn't fun anymore. It wasn't even livable.

You barely realised how the month passed and your birthday was right around the corner. In fact, it was tomorrow.

"We'll have matching pairs then-? Hey, idiot, you listening to me?"

"Yes, Katsuki"

"good. I would hate to think you were ignoring me again" His palm gripped your chin like a face, tilting your head before he smashed his wet lips to yours. It was clumsy. It made you feel disgusting.

A hand sorely gripped your thigh, snaking up the helm of your school skirt. You didn't even bother to swat him away there days when he got handsy. It just encouraged him more to discipline you.

"I'll make sure to get you a great present, you'll love it" You knew what he meant by that, it made your heart drop and stomach threaten to heave.

Bakugou soon got up to leave with a group of his friends, leaving you to wallow in you own desperation. You glanced at your wrist. Katsuki had been baring down upon it every day to see if there was even an inclination that his name was appearing.

In reality it didn't really matter, it was just gloating privileges for him now, a way of bragging that you two were destined and you would be hs fine piece of ass for life.

You stroked the reddened skin, it had been sore lately.

"please..."

"Please...anyones name...just as long as its not his"

__________

"Come on, Y/n!"

"Show us!"

"Its obvious what it is gonna say"

You didn't even bother to check what your wrist said when you woke up this morning. Katsuki made you promise that you wouldn't and that you would wait for school.

So here you were, seated in the cafeteria with the majority of the class surrounding you a Katsuki. You could practically feel the pride radiating from him right now.

"go ahead, babe, show em"

And so you did, jutting out your arm and revealing the name to all around.

It was silent again. You expected squeals of jealously, congrats and awe.

Silence. It was louder than any sound imaginable at that moment .

You looked up from where your listless glare had fallen onto your lap to the wide eyes all baring down upon you.

"Oh...hard...luck, Bakugou"

Your eyes fell to your wrist.

"Izuku"

Perhaps fate wasn't so cruel after all.

[sgtjbbhasmyheart]

Drunk Texting Is(n’t) Bad for Your Health- Chapter Two

Series Summary: Talk about your unconventional meet-cute! Bucky receives a text by mistake requesting he prove he's not Reader's sister. The easy dialogue between Reader and Bucky sparks a natural friendship, but could it lead to more? Bucky still deems himself unworthy of any form of affection or love. Reader is hellbent to prove him wrong. With the help of some (meddling) friends along the way, Bucky may get his happily-ever-after after all.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word count: 2921

Warnings: bad language words, blink and you’ll miss the angst, just some fluff

A/N: divider credit- @firefly-graphics

DO NOT copy or replicate without my permission

You awoke with a start, feeling as if you were late for work or something important and forgot to set your alarm. Your heart beat an erratic tattoo against your ribcage. Scrambling for your cell phone, you blindly reached across the side table near your bed in a panic. Unplugging the phone, you brought the device an ungodly closeness to your face. It was only 6:17. On Saturday.

Your pulse throbbed behind your eyeballs, and a strange stickiness coated the inside of your mouth. Did you drink that much last night?

How could you not? Timmons was a fair boss, and you enjoyed your job, but that dude loved the sound of his own voice.

The quarterly business dinners were mandatory for all employees, even for the P.A.s. Typically, they weren’t so bad, but last night, Timmons felt the need to toot his own horn for landing a massive contract with Stark Industries slash The Avengers. He went on and on about how great it was for the firm.

He was like a giant kid in a candy store with his ramblings. ‘We will be promoting the face of The Avengers and everything that goes with it,’ he spouted off like the firm was god’s gift to public relations.

You groaned at the reminder of last night’s presentation. The contract wasn’t even in effect yet, and you were sick of the Earth’s Mightiest Heroes. Timmons could be a real buzz kill.

Rolling to your back, you brought your phone up to tap the screen to read the emails you received overnight. On display was a text from 11:04 by someone named James. It read: “Goodnight, (Y/N).”

Your mind went back to last night again, trying to recall who this James was. He must be significant if you plugged his contact information into your phone already. Had you met someone last night?

Drawing a blank, you clicked on the text bubble to pull up the thread. Briefly scanning through the numerous texts, everything came rushing back. In an attempt to text your sister, Robyn, you mistakenly texted this mysterious, James.

You felt like an utter buffoon when you learned he wasn’t Robyn. You always did have a way with the cute boys. Probably why you were single. You groaned out loud as you read on.

You im safely inside my apartment. Pretty sure no one followed me home

James Did you triple check the lock on the front door?

You yes dad yeesh

James There are a lot of bad people out there. Just want to make sure you’re safe.

You sounds like you watch the news too much but its sweet of u to care

James I know from experience.

You r u the bad guy or have u been the one mugged?

James Let’s just say I have friends that have dealt with the bad things of the world.

You right i almost forgot ur a military-trained assassin athlete mchottie

James Did you ever send your sister a text?

You shit thanks for reminding me i have such a crazy story to tell her

James Only good things, I hope.

You oh yeah all the good things an enigmatic yet handsome stranger cares more about my safety than any of my ex-boyfriends ever did.

James My ma raised me right.

You id say

James_ I hate to cut this short, but I think you need your rest. Especially if you’re meeting your sister tomorrow._

You i dont want to agree but ur probably right

You whats ur name btw?

James My name? Why? Do you plan to continue texting me after tonight?

You duh ur fun to talk to

James Oh.

You or not its cool if u dont want to

James It’s James.

You nice to meet u james im (y/n)

James Nice to meet you as well.

You my sister just texted me back and were still meeting at 9 i should go 

You goodnite james

James Goodnight, (Y/N).

Oh. My. God. Had you seriously drunk-flirted with a stranger and offered to keep texting him? You had no shame with a few drinks in you.

You brought a hand up to pinch the bridge of your nose and sighed loudly.

What did you know of this James? He had a New York area phone number. Check. He could have been a real dick about your mistake but wasn’t. Understanding. Check. He worried about you getting home safely in your inebriated state. Caring. Check. Not too forthcoming with the nine to five. Secretive. Check. His mouth looked so soft and plush, and his eyes were made to drown in. Gorgeous. Check.

A heat simmered beneath your skin as you recounted the shortlist you’d made. Were you lusting over someone you’d exchanged less than forty texts with? Had you somehow woken back up in high school?

Shaking your head to clear your thoughts, you stared at the screen displaying the message thread. Were you really considering this? You nodded your head to answer your own question. Where was the harm in a little shameless flirting? If worse came to worst, you could always block him.

With your mind made up, you began typing into your phone, constructing an apology.

You Good morning! First off, I want to apologize for the way I behaved over text last night.

You Though, I do like to imbibe in the occasional drink or two, I am, by no means, a lush.

You Please take everything I said with a grain of salt. Apparently, I get loose-lipped and cheeky with free wine. 😐

You Again, I’m sorry and understand if you wanted to cease our correspondence for my behavior.

You blew out a breath and tossed your phone aside. It was up to fate now and a stranger named James.

You laid in your bed for several minutes staring at the ceiling, contemplating between whether to send a ‘haha just kidding’ text and what the weather would be like, so you could forego shaving your legs in the shower today.

Your phone chimed during the pondering of hair removal, indicating a new text. You knew it was James proclaiming you a freak and to forget his number, but secretly, you hoped it was Robyn canceling today.

Seizing the phone from your mattress top, your heart’s beat increased with each second you went without looking at the screen. Finding the courage, you flipped the device over to read the message.

James Quite the formal apology, Ms. Professor.

You smiled at the text. It didn’t tell you to pound sand or eat shit. No, it was teasing and in jest. You sighed in relief.

You Cease our correspondence too much?

James No, no it was perfect if this was 1863, and you were breaking up with me via telegraph.

You Stop!

James Exactly! ‘Never speak to me again!’ Stop. ‘It’s not you, it’s me.’ Stop.

A belly laugh disrupted the tranquil air of your bedroom. You quickly thumbed out a reply once you caught your breath.

You You’re incorrigible.

James I’m glad to see you are using proper capitalization and punctuation this morning.

You Ha!

You When you are buzzed and/or tipsy, capitals and periods be damned. Like you’re so perfect when you’re drunk.

James We all have our flaws.

Was he implying he was a sloppy texter when drunk, too? You shrugged it off as him being cryptic again.

You What are you doing up so early on a Saturday? I didn’t wake you, did I?

You were suddenly stricken with guilt. You should have waited for a more reasonable hour to send out rapid-fire apology texts. Not at 6:36 in the morning. You didn’t want last night’s behavior hanging over you, though. Better to clear the air now than later. You could always ask for forgiveness again if you had disturbed his sleep.

James I had just gotten back from my run when I saw your texts. I have training this morning.

You Oh, right. For your hush-hush, super top secret mission/quidditch game.

You You ever gonna tell me what you really do?

James_ Maybe. Someday._

How far away was someday? Was he planning to text you until you both died or until he got bored? How did texting relationships even work?

You Or is it one of those situations where if you told me you’d have to kill me?

James 😈

You There you go again--being all mysterious.

James Keep ‘em guessing and coming back for more.

You Has that strategy worked well for you in the past?

James Got you to text me again this morning, didn’t it?

You scoffed at what he had suggested. He was correct, but your stubborn streak would deny everything.

You The only reason I texted you this morning was to apologize for acting like a drunken fool last night.

And to squash the curiosity burning in your veins. But he didn’t need to know that.

James Oh.

The reply caused you to furrow your brow and your stomach to drop. You regretted not adding more levity to your last text. Of course, it wasn’t the only reason you were drawn to him.

You I appreciate that the selfie you sent wasn’t a dick pic. And you genuinely seemed to care about me getting home safely. Thank you.

You And maybe- a teeny, tiny bit- is honestly interested in getting to know you better.

You waited on pins and needles for his text, watching the pulsing ellipsis on your screen. Was he just humoring you?

James Hook. Line. Sinker.

Reading his response generated a flush from your jaw to your hairline. You growled in embarrassment. You fell for the oldest trick in the book. He baited you for a compassionate answer, and you delivered beautifully. Hook, line, and sinker, indeed.

You You’re an ass. I take everything back.

James Don’t be mad. I wasn’t sure how it was going to go, but you played into my trap wonderfully.

James If it makes you feel any better, all kidding aside, I want to get to know you better too.

James I fell asleep with a smile on my face last night and woke up with one this morning.

James Because of you, (Y/N).

A flutter broke apart in your chest. You hadn’t time-traveled back to high school; no, this was junior high territory.

You You’re lucky you’re so damn charming, James.

James Doll, you have no idea.

The subway ride into Manhattan usually gave you the chance to get a little reading in since it took nearly fifty minutes from Queens. Not today, though. You spent the entirety of the train ride texting back and forth with James. It was mundane stuff, but you were getting a grasp of who James was as a person.

You Favorite color?

James Black. You?

You Blue.

You Favorite ice cream flavor?

James Chocolate. Yours?

You Ben & Jerry’s Cherry Garcia.

James I didn’t realize we were getting specific.

You We weren’t, but that’s my favorite.

You Favorite movie?

James I like the classics- The Wizard of Oz, It’s A Wonderful Life, Frankenstein.

You I have too many to list, so don’t ask.

You Okay. Lightning round because I’m almost to my stop.

James Where are you going again?

You paused your reply for a brief second, wondering if you should divulge your destination. You’d known James less than twenty-four hours; although, it felt like weeks after this morning. Where was the harm in telling him where you were meeting your sister? There were nearly nine million people in this city. There was no way you’d ever bump into each other.

You A bakery in the Upper East Side called Two Little Red Hens. Ever been?

James Don’t think I have.

You Well, since you like chocolate, they have a fantastic cake called Brooklyn Blackout. Super rich but delicious.

James Sounds right up my alley.

You Cats or dogs?

James I’m gone too much, so cats.

The answer piqued your interest. Maybe he was an athlete. Wouldn’t it be practice and not training, though? Or he’s FBI or CIA.

You Socks on or off for sleeping?

James Off.

You Silver or gold?

James Silver.

You Morning, noon, or night?

James Night.

You How do you take your coffee?

James Room for sugar and creamer.

You Boxers or briefs?

James Boxer briefs.

You laughed out loud, looking around the subway car to see if anyone was paying attention to you. Per usual, they weren’t.

You Touché.

As soon as the train stopped, you gathered your purse close to your body and made for the exit. You followed the crowd of fellow passengers through the turnstile and ascended the stairs onto street level.

The morning sunlight caressed your skin like a warm blanket. The humidity wasn’t too bad, yet, but the threat of afternoon thunderstorms still hung in the air.

Even with the reasonably early hour, the sidewalk was stuffed with people, carrying to-go coffee cups or shopping bags. You fought for your little spot of real estate on the grimy concrete.

Stopping at a red traffic light, waiting to cross, you typed out another question for James.

You Pineapple on pizza--yay or nay?

The light changed as you finished, and the throng of pedestrians around you guided you across the street. You spotted Robyn outside the bakery as your phone dinged with a new text alert.

“Wow, I’m surprised you made it on time,” Robyn said as you hugged hello.

You looked at the clock on your phone. 8:58. “You and me both, sister.” Glancing back at your phone’s screen, you giggled.

James What kind of monster puts pineapple on their pizza??

“What’s so funny?” Robyn asked as you accompanied her through the bakery’s door.

With a grin on your face, you punched out a quick reply:

You Well, it was nice knowing you, James. It was a swell friendship while it lasted--a whole 11 ½ hours.

Robyn elbowed you softly in the ribs with a look on her face, seeking an explanation.

“Ow,” you grunted. “What?”

“You tell me. I half expected a zombie to walk through the doors today after your text last night. Not Suzie Sunshine.”

You both edged closer to the counter as the line in front of you dwindled.

James Say it ain’t so, doll! Pineapple on pizza? Really??

You let out a low chortle as you skimmed the text. You glimpsed up at Robyn as you shuffled forward in line again. “Believe me, I’m pretty hungover,” you replied, shoving your phone in your back pocket. “It’s a funny story. I’ll tell you everything when we sit.”

Robyn stared at you warily, still trying to figure out what had come over you. “Okay,” she conceded, stepping to the register to order.

With each of you supplied with an iced coffee and a peach ginger scone, you found an empty table by a window along 2nd Avenue and proceeded to tell Robyn about James.

When you stopped to catch your breath, remembering the whirlwind the last twelve hours had been, you peered at your sister for her reaction.

She stared at you like you’d grown a second head. She shook her head in disbelief. “(Y/N), what where you thinking?”

Your brow pinched in confusion. Was she actually scolding you? You crossed your arms over your chest. “I was thinking about how my big sister is always telling me to meet new people and how it’s time I thought about settling down.”

“Not like this it’s not,” she hissed. “This is how your body parts end up in someone’s freezer!”

You choked on the piece of scone you shoved in your mouth before she started ridiculing you. After coughing to clear your airway and taking a sip of your iced coffee, you leered at Robyn. “Oh, my god! Dramatic much? Have you been binge-watching Dateline again? Jesus Christ, Robyn, he’s harmless,” you countered.

“You think you’ll be so careful, but you’ll let one little detail slip, and he’ll find you,” Robyn said before taking a pull from her coffee.

“You mean, like, how I was meeting you at Two Little Red Hens at nine o’clock?”

Robyn’s mouth popped open in an O. “What the hell, (Y/N)?” she stage-whispered. “Are you trying to get yourself kidnapped and sold into sex trafficking?”

“Please,” you drew out in one long syllable. “He doesn’t know what I look like. How would he snatch me?”

“He could look you up on Facebook.”

“Without a last name?” You shook your head, no.

“What about a reverse search on your number?” Robyn asked, pushing the plate holding her scone away. “That’s a thing.”

“Perhaps, but it seems like a lot of effort for a mistake I made. It wasn’t like he was seeking me or anyone else out.”

Robyn huffed out a breath and folded her arms in exasperation. Always the protective big sister. You could tell you were breaking her down, though.

“C’ mon, Robbie. It’s all in innocent fun. I’m not saying I’m hoping he’ll turn out to be Mr. Right, but the banter is fun,” you remarked. “James is charming and witty and nice to talk to.”

Robyn shook her head once more, frowning. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

You reached across the table for her hand and squeezed gently. “Me too.” You smiled slyly, remembering last night’s dinner and Timmons gushing about The Avengers. “If not, I know how to get ahold of a couple of centenarians who know chivalry isn’t dead.”

Chapter One | Chapter Three

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Send an ask to be added to the list!

[unbridgeabledistances]

prompt - casual touches/pda bc we don’t see much in the show!

<3 <3 ty so much for the prompt anon! this ask was sent in before the most recent ep (where we were fed ALL of the casual intimacy!) but i wanted to write a little something to maybe hopefully comfort some lingering discontent about the whole non-monogamy thing– so here is a communicative one-shot of ian and mickey discussing their boundaries and processing s5 traumas before 11x07! (w lots of soft touches😌)

--

It was one of those casual, routine evenings at the Gallagher house when Ian brought it up again, a couple of long weeks after that first conversation on the front porch under the streetlights. They were all lounging in the living room during the slow, undefined hours after dinner, when Carl and usually Ian and Mickey would sit hunched around the TV, passively watching some movie or cartoon while they scrolled through their phones.

That night, Debbie and Sandy were having some sort of erratic spat in the kitchen, and the shrieks back and forth were making it hard to hear the crashing and blaring of the action movie that Mickey had picked out coming from the TV’s speakers— after a couple minutes of trying to make out the movie’s dialogue, Carl stood up with a huff and flicked off the TV with the remote that had been shoved between the cushions of the chair in the corner, stretching and standing up to head down to the basement.

“Night, guys.”

“Night Carl,” Ian replied, and then kept looking down at the Instagram feed he’d been circling through for a good hour while trying to tune out Debbie once again shouting at Sandy for “traumatizing” her by keeping secrets. They’d had the same fight almost every night for the past few weeks since Debbie had discovered that Sandy was living in her car, and had been married to some random guy when she was a teenager or some shit like that— Ian honestly wasn’t even going to ask, but he’d heard the conversation enough times to be uninterested enough to drown it out.

Franny was sitting with splayed knees on the living room carpet, playing some elaborate game with Liam’s truck toys and little Lego construction workers, that had been stowed in the cabinet but Franny had somehow dug out a few weeks ago, causing yet another one of Debbie’s conniptions— and finally the voices in the kitchen trailed off, like they always did once Debbie ran out of steam and got tired of victimizing herself.

“Time for bed, Fran.”

Debbie came into the room and scooped Franny up from where she was sitting, trudging up the stairs with Franny in tow and Sandy trailing close behind—

And then suddenly it was just he and Mickey in the living room, pressed thigh-to-thigh and knee-to-knee beside each other on the couch, resting in the rare but comforting weight of the silence.

Mickey was slouched back on the couch, his chin practically touching his chest, playing some game that involved him turning his phone sideways and lazily shooting pixelated zombies. Ian looked over at him for a moment, taking in Mickey’s relaxed face and the solid press of Mickey’s body against his side…

And he had to fucking do it.

It wasn’t like Ian wanted to bring up the conversation again, about monogamy and boundaries and fuck-knows-what-else; but these past few weeks had been hard, like something cavernous was cracking and splintering between them. Their banter had slowly turned less and less humorous, and more pointed and jagged, about who was the breadwinner and who was the “man”; and even though they’d patched it up and built small bridges between them, and had hung off of each other’s bodies at Lip’s apartment the night Ian had brought up the monogamy conversation for the first time, Ian couldn’t help but feel the weight of the things unsaid wriggling and rustling inside him, like a germinating seed about to bloom.

Ian totally understood why, the moment he had mentioned “fucking other people” during that conversation on the porch, he had immediately felt Mickey’s knee stiffen where his palm had been resting on it. There was so much shit they hadn’t talked about—so it made sense that Mickey had immediately bristled when Ian had brought this all up the way that he did, and had put himself on high-alert and fled the scene the moment Carl came through the gate.

It would be so easy to just… not bring it up again. But Ian knew they needed to talk it out, and needed to let out all of the questions that were hanging on the edge of his lips like a ticking time bomb. If there was one thing that Ian knew, it was that Mickey was sensitive about this shit; the last thing that Ian wanted to do was crack and fall through the thin ice he was walking on and accidentally push Mickey away if he made some comment about another guy being hot, or if he reciprocated some dude checking him out at Kev’s gym— if Mickey had gotten upset at the fact that he only had 87% of Ian’s heart, some stupid comment that came out of Ian’s mouth before his brain could really process how he knew Mickey would feel about it, then how was Ian supposed to know what was and what wasn’t okay?

The problem was, talking about all of this shit so explicitly with Mickey felt like trying to walk upstream; things with he and Mickey had always just kind of… flowed, and had never been spelled out or agreed upon or set in stone, at least until he was leaving Mickey in prison and they kind of had to strongarm themselves into talking about what they wanted to future to hold. Even with the proposal and the marriage shit, they had just sort of stumbled their way into it, without explicitly needing to sit down and spell it all out. If he was being honest, Ian fucking loved that; he loved that he and Mickey’s relationship was a roller coaster, a high-speed train ride that they didn’t know the stops of. Things with Mickey just happened the way they were supposed to, in a way they never had with anyone else that Ian had ever been with. He remembered Trevor’s goading about boundaries and sex positivity and communication, and how at first it felt like Ian had marbles rolling around in his mouth as he tried to stumble over words like “ethical non-monogamy” and “compersion” and “polyamory”; it felt like he was speaking a foreign fucking language, like he was talking about things he couldn’t quite grasp— and he didn’t want to push Mickey into feeling that way. But as much as he hated it, he knew they had to at least talk about it; there were too many things left unsaid, too many holes they needed to patch up before slipping through one them.

So that’s why, with a gentle creeping of his fingertips from his own lap to rest on Mickey’s upper thigh, Ian said the words into the soft silence of the living room:

“Mick, we’ve gotta talk about the whole monogamy thing again.”

Instantly, in a sensation that was fully reminiscent of that night a few weeks ago, Ian felt Mickey’s torso stiffen beneath him.

Mickey sniffed, then hesitantly pressed his thumb up to his phone screen to pause the game he was playing mid-level. Mickey’s body was still slumped and leaning on the couch, but now there was a new rigidity to the way he was sitting, like he was bracing himself for something. He clicked off his phone and shoved it into his pocket, then looked down at his hands.

“Don’t know why you think we gotta talk about all this shit, man. We already did your thing with the paper and you said you didn’t wanna fuck other people.”

Ian let out a breath, then snaked an arm across the back of the couch so it was just barely touching where Mickey’s shoulders were leaning, just to where he could feel the heat radiating up from Mickey’s body. If he was going to fucking do this, he needed Mickey to be close to him—he needed their bodies to be pressed together a little more than they already were.

“Yeah, but I guess… I never really got a chance to hear how you feel.”

Mickey’s body tensed up again; Ian could feel his shoulders clenching beneath his where his arm was limply strewn across the back of the couch.

“I don’t know, man.”

Ian swallowed down the sudden wave of resentment he started to feel that Mickey wouldn’t just say what he was feeling, and took a deep breath. Sometimes Mickey just didn’t know how, and he needed to sit there and acclimate to the airwaves that were bouncing between them before Ian could pull something out of him, or before Mickey could pull something out of himself. Ian let them just sit there, and let himself fixate his eyes on the rise and fall of Mickey’s chest under his tattered t-shirt; and after a moment, he decided to give a gentle nudge, to at least get the ball rolling towards the depths of wherever Mickey’s head was at.

“So do you… wanna fuck other people?”

Mickey made an airy popping sound by smacking his lips together— like he was trying to do anything with his mouth except let words rest inside it, like he was trying to puncture the blanket of silence with a sharp sound. Ian waited.

“Or is it— that you think I want to fuck other people?” He could hear how cautious his own voice sounded, like he was tiptoeing onto uncertain territory, gently coursing into rough and uncharted waters.

Ian felt an almost imperceptible slump work its way back into Mickey’s rigid shoulders. Oh.

He leaned himself closer towards Mickey’s warm body, wrapping his arm down off the back of the couch and directly onto Mickey’s shoulders, feeling the soft bristles of Mickey’s hair pressing up against the crook of his elbow.

“Hey.” Ian tried to keep his voice soft, soft. “I know it fucking sucks, but we’ve gotta talk about this. I don’t ever wanna do shit you aren't okay with.”

Mickey raised his chin, leaning back onto Ian’s arm, and flickered his eyes to meet his gaze.

“You really don’t wanna fuck other people?”

It was the same question Mickey had asked the other night on the porch, the first time they'd had this conversation— but this time there was no bravado to it, no directness or volume like the way Mickey had asked that night with his eyebrows raised. This time he asked in a low voice, a voice that was husky and soft around the edges. Ian squeezed Mickey’s shoulder.

“Mickey, I got married to you. I don’t really know what you thought that meant— but for me, it pretty much means fucking you til the day I die.”

Mickey hesitantly rolled his eyes, blowing a puff of air out of his mouth. “But, like— fucking only me?”

Ian took a deep breath and steeled himself for the messier part of conversations like this, the part where he tried to get Mickey to split himself open. “You’ve gotta give me more than that, Mick. What’re you asking?”

Mickey looked down at his hands again, running his fingertips over a loose thread at the bottom of his shirt. “I don’t know, man. Guys are always droolin’ over you. Just don’t want to hold you back.” Ian felt the rise of Mickey’s shoulders, the breath of air being let into his lungs. “I just don’t wanna not be enough for you, or whatever. Don’t want you to regret shit a couple of years down the line.”

Not be enough for me? If this didn’t feel like a serious and slightly terrifying, fragile conversation to have, Ian could have laughed in Mickey’s face— how could Mickey think that he wasn’t enough for him, when he was the fucking focal point, at the center of everything? Ian didn’t know what words could radiate that out of him, could make Mickey get it— he opted for another squeeze of Mickey’s shoulders, and then migrated his hand under Mickey’s chin and forced their eyes to meet.

“Mick.” He tried to ooze every ounce of certainty, every ounce of resolve that he was feeling, into his voice. “You’re more than enough for me, are you fucking kidding? You’re all I ever think about— if you weren’t enough for me, I wouldn’t have married you. I know what that means, I always have.”

Even saying the words aloud, Ian quickly flashed back to it’s just a piece of paper, to back when Mickey smelled of cheap cologne and bitter smoke in an oversized tux— even then, Ian knew what marriage meant, knew the weight of it, and that’s why Mickey getting married that day tore him apart. Ian wouldn’t have done this, wouldn’t have said “I do” if he wasn’t ready for all of that— so why did Mickey think that he wasn’t?

The tension was creeping back in between Mickey’s shoulder blades. “Took you a while to decide to do that, though.”

Ian paused. They’d rehashed this shit enough times, but it still always stung to think back to when he was too wrapped up in his own shit to think outside of his own spirals of self-doubt, and left Mickey bleeding at the altar in the process. He didn’t know how to put it into words; Mickey had just always been everything, had always been a solid presence inside him, tugging at his heartstrings so tangibly that it made him ache; Ian had a bullshit complex about marriage, but not one about his iron-heavy commitment. Mickey had to understand that by now— but it seemed like there were scars there that still hadn’t been healed.

Which made Ian wonder— where else was this coming from?

Ian cupped his hand below Mickey’s chin again, raising his other hand from his lap and reaching up to push Mickey’s hair out of his face—a gentle touch, a touch to root him and give him something to hold on to more than anything else.

“Hey. Look at me.” Mickey’s eyes met his. “S’there anything else you’ve been holding in about this monogamy stuff?”

Mickey’s eyes flickered downward— and there it was, Mickey’s defenses were being raised, just like they always were at first. But Ian knew how to breach them, knew how to wait it out. He reached his hand downward, intertwining it with Mickey’s limp fingers and giving his hand a squeeze. Mickey dryly cleared his throat.

“You remember that night, before you, uh. You left with Yev or whatever. And you did the porno with that guy.”

Ian felt an ache of awareness rip through his solar plexus, as the words continued to tumble out of Mickey’s mouth.

“It fucking gutted me, man. That and… all the shit with you running off. Not coming to visit me in prison. And I know we’ve talked about it, and I know we’re over it, and I know wasn’t your fault; but I can’t stop feeling like this”—he paused, eyes flickering down at their clasped hands, their pair of silver rings— “that this might be too good to be true.”

Ian felt something hollow ache in his chest. He couldn’t believe they’d never really talked about all of this, never dug this deep, even in the endless blank calendar squares of their days and months in prison together— sure, Mickey had called out Ian’s shit about leaving him over and over again, but he’d never really said the words out loud, never pinpricked Ian’s actions so specifically.

He’d left Mickey, hadn’t he? Even when he didn't mean to, even when it wasn't his fault— that wasn't just going to go away.

A nauseating awareness started to drip through Ian’s veins. He sat frozen on the couch, planted there— not really sure what to say, not sure what words could patch the holes in something solid that he didn’t even realize were there all these years later. While his mind was whirring, Mickey spoke again— he met Ian’s eyes, and this time the iron shutters in his eyes betrayed a trace of pain, just sharp enough for Ian to barely see it.

“Can we go to bed? And talk about all this shit in the morning?”

Ian felt an indecipherable lump in his throat— and he nodded.

**

Mickey had climbed the stairs slowly, and Ian had trailed behind— and now Ian was laying flat in the bed, all changed into a worn tank top and boxers while Mickey brushed his teeth down the hall. Ian propped his upper back on a pillow he had shoved next to the wall, trying to sift through all the emotions that were swirling and buzzing in his head, threatening to pull him under. How was he supposed to fix this?

Mickey turned the corner into the room, lingered in the doorway. He looked deflated, and tired— and instantly, Ian needed to bridge the gap between them, need to feel Mickey warming the empty sheets beside him.

“C’mere.”

Mickey almost comically collapsed onto the bed like a ragdoll— between the conversation downstairs and the few moments they took apart in separate spaces, something small had dissipated, something had turned less brittle and was starting to bend. Ian instantly shifted to his side and wrapped his arms around Mickey, locking his fingers behind Mickey’s head, overtaking his sight line and holding him close in the bed. Mickey gave a half smile— an acknowledgement.

“Hey.” He heard the note of thickness in his own voice. “I’m so fucking sorry. For… everything. Fuck.”

Mickey coiled an arm around Ian’s waist, laying a palm on the small of his back, soaking him in.

“I know. Just gotta give me some time. And we've got all the time in the world, Gallagher.”

Ian breathed out. “Fuck. Yeah.”

He pulled Mickey closer, until Mickey was almost on top of his chest, his face pressed into the crook of Ian’s neck. He listened to Mickey’s steady breath, feeling the curls of it tickle his chin. Ian reached over to switch off the lamp on the bedside table, then pulled Mickey in closer, slotting a leg between his.

After a moment, he broke the silence.

“So. Monogamy?”

He felt Mickey’s chest vibrate with a breathy laugh. “I don’t know, man. What do you think?”

Ian grinned, feeling something fizzle out of him. He prodded Mickey in the side. “Come on, Mick. What do you want? Actually?”                                                     

Ian felt Mickey’s ribcage expand and retract from where he was pressed against him. “I don’t wanna fuck anyone else, man.” Ian breathed out; and he was about to let out a gust of see, that wasn’t that hard, was it— when Mickey spoke up again.

“But I guess… we could talk about doing stuff. Together?”

Holy shit.

Mickey’s words kept flowing, his breath running hot against Ian’s neck as his words floated through the dark room. “I don’t wanna be with any guy that isn’t you. But it might be kinda fun to like— I don’t know, try that shit some day? Like those hot fuckin’ pornos or whatever.” He breathed out a laugh. “Never thought I’d get to try that shit, and probably never will— but it’d be fun... to try? If you ever wanna.” Mickey paused. “But that’s where I draw the fucking line, man.”

Ian barked out a laugh—and instantly felt a weird, warm sense of pride welling up in his chest. This was Mickey asking for what he wanted—this was Mickey letting Ian in, letting him have all of it, and showing that he trusted him despite all the high and lows they’d both muddled through. This was miles beyond what he would have guessed Mickey would’ve been comfortable with, with all of his Terry-inflicted internalized homophobia still thawing somewhere deep inside him— but he was in. It honestly sounded... fucking hot, all the more because Mickey was so into the idea. 

Ian was so fucking glad that they were talking about this— if this was what Mickey wanted, at some point down the line, he would give it to him. He would give him everything.

Ian pressed a kiss to the curve of Mickey’s jaw, just below his earlobe. “God, Mick.”

Mickey just wriggled closer to Ian, almost like he was nervous. “Yeah?”

“If it makes you excited to do shit with other guys together—only together—than we can totally fucking do that. But only if you want to. I don’t need anything else, Mick— you’re all I need. You’ve gotta know that.”

For the first time in what felt like hours, the ice had thawed from behind Mickey’s eyes when he pulled back to meet Ian’s gaze— Ian could make out the glint of light in the darkness. “I know.”

And as he pulled Mickey’s close and pressed the pulse of their lips together, he was sure of one thing: that Mickey belonged to him, and he belonged to Mickey.

Whatever they tried (or didn’t try)—they would do it together.

[quazartranslates]

Welcome to the Nightmare Game II - CH8

**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**

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Chapter 8: Resurrection Overture (VIII)

When Qi Leren arrived at Chen Baiqi's store, it was 20 minutes earlier than the appointed time. Chen Baiqi was chatting with a woman with her back to him. They both looked at Qi Leren in the doorway, and Qi Leren also looked at the woman.　

That person was a very gorgeous and charming beauty, wearing a gorgeous and complicated low-cut witch's dress and a European top hat. Although her whole person was dressed in dark colours, it made her skin more white, and her bright red lipstick and smokey eye makeup were particularly attractive. When he noticed this, Qi Leren first reviewed why he noticed his sister's makeup at first sight... Was it really a matter of sexual orientation?

"Since you have a guest, I'll take a walk first. I'm tired from the task I just finished. Let's talk about it another day." The beautiful woman smiled at Qi Leren, picked up the women's walking stick at the table, and walked out of Chen Baiqi's shop gracefully.

"Who was that?" Qi Leren asked.

"The Illusionist," Chen Baiqi said.

Qi Leren suddenly remembered that the Court’s Miao Li had mentioned during his dream lessons that the Illusionist had helped cover up his tombstones on the Undead Island in order to hide them from the Slaughter Secret Society. Was it that beautiful woman just now?

"Have you had breakfast?" Chen Baiqi asked him.

Qi Leren nodded: "I’m full."

Chen Baiqi smiled meaningfully: "Don't eat too much next time, lest you throw up."

"..." Qi Leren felt that his future was grim.

"Although we’ve known each other for some time, I’ve never introduced myself properly. Since you will train with me from today, I will introduce myself again. Come with me. " Chen Baiqi led Qi Leren inside. Qi Leren had never been to the back part of the store. When he found that there was a basement with several floors, he couldn't help crying deeply for his future self.

"I used to be the executive officer of the Trial’s Heresy Court. I was mainly responsible for executing the Devil worshippers. Later, because of an injury, I could no longer continue such a high-intensity and dangerous job, so I retired early. Now I’m half an insider who does intelligence." The elevator stopped on the third basement floor and Chen Baiqi led Qi Leren out. The third basement floor was as big as a basketball court. The ground was made of concrete, without any obstacles, and it was scary.

Qi Leren wasn’t very surprised. He had always felt that Chen Baiqi was familiar with the Trials Court. It was to be expected that all of the information she had was somehow related to them.

"In the Nightmare World, so many players have explored 'playing methods' about this 'game' for more than 20 years. Today, I will briefly talk about the 'professions'," Chen Baiqi said.

Qi Leren pricked up his ears and listened attentively.

"Players will receive a skill card when they are in the Novice Village. This skill card is not given randomly, and most players will eventually build their own fighting style around this skill card. That is to say, the original skill card has actually selected the appropriate profession for the player. Take your Novice Village as an example: Dr. Lu, who is with you, is obviously a healer, while Xue Yingying is obviously a berserker. As for you, because your basic skill card is very delicate, it's the first time I’ve heard of such a skill card, so it's hard to judge your basic profession. But it doesn't matter. Most of the skill cards that players get in tasks will follow a certain rule. For example, a healer rarely draws a berserker-type skill card when drawing their card. That is to say, the skill cards obtained in the future are actually based on what you receive as your first skill card. They build around this 'profession'."

Qi Leren suddenly realized: so the skill cards he got later, such as "Rain-Day Laundry", "Primary Fighting Skills", and "Devil Etiquette", including the latest one, "Secretly Observing", all emphasized his profession.

—Assassin.

"I only know some of your skill cards, but I can make a rough judgment about you. You’re an assassin." Chen Baiqi folded her arms and looked at him laughingly. "So congratulations, I’m in the same profession. However, even amongst assassins, they will be subdivided into different categories because of their different personality traits and abilities. After all, everyone's skill cards are different. If you trust me, you can tell me your existing skill cards, and I will not disclose it to others."

Qi Leren vaguely felt that Chen Baiqi would sincerely teach him, and that his answer was the key. Of course, he couldn’t say it. Chen Baiqi would still train him, but she would not give everything to him. Chen Baiqi was... Qi Leren's brain flashed. She was looking for a successor!

Yes, Chen Baiqi entered the game very early and she said it had been eight years, which meant that she was an old player with high strength and rich experience, but it also meant that her time wouldn't be much longer.

Chen Baiqi was optimistic about him and willing to teach him, which was only too important for a newcomer who was still groping for his footing shortly after entering the game, and Qi Leren was very grateful. He didn't think Chen Baiqi had any malice towards him. After all, the gap in strength between the two people was right in front of him. If Chen Baiqi wanted to, she could kill him.

After figuring this out, Qi Leren relayed his skill cards and even told her of his items.

Chen Baiqi said, "You are an assassin. You already have basic premonition skills, detection and latent skills, and even half a camouflage skill. Right now, you still lack a skill to escape and strengthen combat effectiveness—Primary Fighting Skills is too low, it takes too long to upgrade past the basic stage. You can sell it after you’ve been trained."

Qi Leren nodded, "I’ve felt an obvious lack in combat effectiveness. I have no effective means of attack, and often I can only take the same route."

This also led to his excessive dependence on S/L Data as his solution.

"Although skill cards are very good and greatly improve newcomers’ survival rate in this world, I don’t advocate relying too much on them. The Nightmare World is a surreal world. There are many things that we can't do in the real world that can be done here. It also has its own power system. If you want to integrate into this power system, relying too much on skill cards will only hinder you. To put it simply, if you want to become a field-level master, you must quit your skill cards," Chen Baiqi said seriously.

"When you say the power system, you mean the Devils and the Holy See?" Qi Leren asked.

"Yes. With our status as players, if you want to reach the field level, you’re bound to become close to one of them. Because you’ve been parasitized by Slaughter before, I originally thought that your attributes were more inclined to the Devils, but now it seems that maybe you’re more inclined to the side of divine power," Chen Baiqi said.

"How do you see it?" Qi Leren was puzzled.

Chen Baiqi's mouth crooked and she closed her eyes. When she opened them again, they were already a pair of red eyes: "The holiness of your body has exceeded the standard. Maria gave you an important gift before she sent you back."

Qi Leren recalled the warm and comfortable feeling when the dotted light of endless faith had poured into his body, and nodded silently.

"In fact, in addition to these two power systems, there are many magical powers in the Nightmare World. For example, I seldom use investigation skill cards because I once learned the language of birds from an elder. Although I’m not very proficient, I have no problem with basic dialogue. You can imagine how desperate it is to meet me in a wild jungle. This is better than the ability of any reconnaissance skill card. After all, there is no cooldown."

Qi Leren imagined that if he had met such an opponent in the forest during the Witchcraft Sacrifice mission... The birds in the whole forest were her eyes. She could observe every enemy 24/7 without cooldown, avoid any danger she wanted to bypass, and set traps to deal with anyone she wanted to deal with. This was simply terrible.

"Well, with this said, I’ll now begin to test your abilities, including your physical quality, judgment, intuition, and so on. I’ll test your intuition first. If you want to be a good assassin, you can't do without phenomenal intuition. You stand there blindfolded, this won’t take more than a minute," Chen Baiqi commanded.

Qi Leren obediently went to the place she indicated and took the red cloth she handed him, tying it over his eyes. Suddenly, there was only a suppressed scarlet: "How do we test it?"

Chen Baiqi's voice floated from in front of him: "It's very simple. I'll throw some knives at you. You can dodge them with your intuition. I won't tell you when I throw them."

???

! ! !

This wasn’t a test, it was a threat on his life!

"Put away Rain-Day Laundry and only use S/L Data, or else you’ll really die," Chen Baiqi said with ease and pleasure.

"The Prophet told me to use it less," Qi Leren protested weakly.

"Oh, then you don't have to. I’ll try not to aim at anything vital," Chen Baiqi said.

"...Forget it, I'll use it." Qi Leren surrendered and thought he would use it just this once.

S/L Data was activated and the current position was set as the save point. Qi Leren looked at the red before his eyes and his heart beat fast with nervousness. He counted the seconds for S/L Data in his mind.

30, 29, 28...

Chen Baiqi didn't throw, she was walking—Qi Leren couldn't see her or hear her footsteps, but he had a strong feeling that Chen Baiqi was walking around him... She was on his left... Behind him...

Danger, danger, danger!

Clearly there was no warning, no noise, but Qi Leren's mind had already sounded the alarm. He quickly squatted without thinking and a slight wind flew over his head, cutting off two floating hairs.

"Eh? The response was good." Chen Baiqi's voice came from behind him. It was behind him!

Qi Leren stood up and continued to count the seconds: seventeen, sixteen, fifteen...

Under your feet!

Qi Leren suddenly jumped up, and the throwing knife shot obliquely downward and struck the ground with a tang.

Even though he wasn’t hit, Qi Leren still felt a dull pain in his feet, probably from jumping too fast and cramping.

"You’re really good." This time the voice came from above his head!

Qi Leren flung himself forward and rolled on the ground for three or four meters. There was a continuous sound of breathing behind him. Obviously, several throwing knives stabbed one after another—into the concrete ground, and he stopped breathing from nerves. In such a dark place, he directly evaded the ubiquitous fatal danger that made him feel on the verge of a breakdown.

When he stood up again, Qi Leren had forgotten to count the seconds and Chen Baiqi's voice came from ahead of himt: "Well, let's stop here for now."

Qi Leren breathed a sigh of relief and his whole person relaxed from his panicked state, stretching out his hand to untie the cloth over his eyes. When the cloth strip was torn off, there was no figure of Chen Baiqi in front of him—only a parrot standing on the ground and talking with Chen Baiqi's voice, which laughed at him: "Fool."

Qi Leren stood stiffly and a cold wind struck into his torso from behind, the knife piercing his heart. After 30 seconds, S/L Data successfully read the file.

The real Chen Baiqi came from behind Qi Leren with a cheerful demeanor: "This is the first lesson for you: never let off your guard down too early in the face of danger."

-----

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[blogging-time]

When I Kissed The Teacher

Dialogue Prompt List – Long List My Fic Masterlist

Prompt: “Let’s drink wine and trash talk our co-workers.” - Logan and Roman. (Friendship) - Submitted by @louisthewarlock

Summary: Roman Crowne has just been dumped by yet another co-worker. Logan Sanders makes it his personal mission to console the heartbroken Spanish teacher while also convincing him to turn off that godforsaken ABBA soundtrack.

Warnings: Post Break-Up (Not Logince), Alcohol Mention.

Pairings: Platonic Logince/Foreshadowing Romantic Logince, Past Royality, Past Prinxiety, Past Roceit, Background Intruality.

Word Count: 1,688

~ ~ ~

“Well this seems like a perfectly healthy and not at all counter-intuitive way to conduct oneself post break-up,” Logan remarked as he slowly entered the almost vacant looking Spanish classroom.

The sight awaiting him was that of his co-worker – Roman Crowne – sitting slumped over a rather busy looking table, his unusually messy head of hair tucked uncomfortably between his hastily folded arms. Surrounding him were various pages that Logan couldn’t quite decipher, as well as some familiar looking textbooks that Roman would use to teach his sophomore classes when the school board once again forbid him from making “Pan’s Labyrinth” an official part of the school’s curriculum. The most notable item at Roman’s disposal however had to be his mobile phone, as it was currently playing “When I Kissed The Teacher,” repeatedly on Spotify.

“You know most people actually knock before inviting themselves into a colleague’s classroom, right?” Roman half-heartedly muttered against the cheap plywood.

“Well you should know that most teachers actually prefer to work at their own desks instead of downgrading to a small student’s table. I guess we’re both just feeling a little unconventional today.”

With a heavy sigh and even heavier limbs, the Spanish teacher finally mustered up the energy required to pry his face off the aforementioned table. As soon as the pair made eye-contact, Logan couldn’t help but smile sympathetically at Roman. No matter how many times he found the man in this heartbroken state his tearstained face simply never failed to upset him.

“There’s a window,” Roman responded vaguely before Logan could even make an awkward attempt to console him. Then, upon recognizing the science teacher’s confusion, he unenthusiastically waved his hand and explained, “There’s a window embedded in the door to this classroom – I’m sure you’re well aware of it. Had I chosen to lay about and wail over my lost love at my own desk then surely any old passer-by could have caught me in my moment of lament.”

As sympathetic as Logan was towards his friend’s situation, he still couldn’t help but roll his eyes at how dramatic the man was being.

“Janus Marshall merely terminated his relationship with you, Roman. He himself is not deceased.”

“Hark! For his love for me is dead at least – dead and buried beneath the heels of some younger, prettier thing! Its ghost takes the form of the man I once danced with, and it taunts me as I pass him by in the corridor on my way to lunch.”

“Would you kindly stop and think rationally for five minutes instead of writing another soliloquy?” Logan may sound exasperated, but in reality, he simply hates seeing his friend’s thoughts spiral out of control like this. “Janus made it abundantly clear to you months ago that he would be migrating to England at the end of the year in order to teach Psychology at Oxford. Since neither of you were ever interested in long-distance relationships, I thought this break-up would seem inevitable to you.”

Roman visibly deflated upon hearing such a logical argument, yet somehow Logan didn’t feel victorious.

“I know… I suppose I just got a little carried away again. Deep down I’d honestly hoped we’d be able to make it work.”

“But why?” Logan asked, “Why would you allow yourself to get your hopes up time and time again? Every time you’ve dated a colleague your relationship has ended within six months or less.”

“Now hold on just a moment, Charles Rush-In! Just because I happened to date – and consequently was dumped by – a few of my colleagues doesn’t mean having a relationship with one is inherently flawed and destined to fail.”

“While your current statistics would highly suggest otherwise, that isn’t the part that concerns me the most. What concerns me the most is that you’re clearly upset or made to feel uncomfortable every time you’re forced to work with an ex-partner.”

“Name one example.”

“Patton Hart.”

“You mean the Home Economics teacher? I love Patton! Well… not in that way… not anymore at least… Yeah things were a little awkward at first… and then things got awkward again eight months later when he asked if I would be okay with him dating my brother… but both of us are on very good terms now!”

Logan quirked an eyebrow at that, but ultimately decided it was Remus’ responsibility to tell Roman about his current engagement plans.

“Okay then, what about Virgil Rae?”

“Ah yes, the English teacher who never stopped reading too much into things.”

“You and him seem to argue a lot.”

“To be fair we also argued before and during our relationship too.”

Logan clicked his tongue in perfect time with ABBA before naming, “Janus Marshall.”

“That’s a fresh wound! It’s hardly fair for you to twist the knife in that!”

“I can’t help but disagree considering you’re currently spending your lunch break marking papers and crying in your classroom just to avoid encountering Janus – something you wouldn’t have to do if he wasn’t your colleague.”

Roman couldn’t deflate anymore, so instead he was forced to sink further down in his admittedly rather uncomfortable plastic chair. Mentally he made a note to stop by the thrift store and his aunt Dot’s place after work to see if he could somehow acquire twenty-six cheap cushions that would make hour long lessons in these chairs more comfortable for his students.

“Why are you so determined to prove the successful office romance trope is unattainable?” he asked in a voice that already sounded so defeated.

“Why are you so determined to prove me wrong?” Logan countered.

Roman met Logan’s eyes for just a moment before completely averting his gaze. Logan coughed into his elbow for just a second in a manner that conveniently covered both of his cheeks. A minute passed, and neither man acknowledged either his or his co-worker’s sudden actions.

Eventually Logan decided to break that uncomfortable minute of silence with a sigh of his own.

“Do you have another class immediately after lunch?”

“Not today. I was supposed to be teaching Freshman Spanish for the next hour, but apparently Principal Sanders has called in a public speaker. I won’t have a class again until last period. How about you?”

“It appears I’m in a similar situation. I typically have the hour free after lunch on a Thursday until my Juniors come in for their Chemistry class at 2PM. If the circumstances today were any different then I would undoubtedly use this time to either grade my students most recent homework or to formulate a lesson plan for next week.”

“If the circumstances were any different?” Roman asked with a raised eyebrow and an only slightly watery eye.

“I have a bottle of Chardonnay in my car,” Logan answered. Then, upon recognizing the Spanish teacher’s concern, he quickly waved his hands and explained, “Your brother gifted it to me a few weeks ago, stating that it may help me to ‘loosen up around handsome men,’ - only he used far more vulgar phrasing than I. I can assure you that I would never drink and drive. I’ve simply never felt the need to consume alcohol since receiving the gift, and so I let the bottle sit forgotten in my car until now.”

“What? I haven’t driven you to drink already have I?” Roman joked, but Logan didn’t miss the way another silent tear disobediently slid down his still reddened cheeks.

Again, neither man acknowledged the sudden presence of emotion.

“Believe me, Roman, if any Crowne were ever going to drive me to drink then it would most certainly be that unfathomable brother of yours. My idea was more along the lines of… well…” The science teacher paused for a moment as he remembered how much more important Roman was to him than his reputation. “Let’s drink wine and trash talk our co-workers.”

Upon proposing the idea, Logan let out a nervous breath he hadn’t even realised he’d been holding. Despite the simplicity of their plan, inviting Roman to share a glass of wine with him during work hours just so that they could say negative things about their generally very respectable colleagues to him felt so deeply personal and borderline exhilarating.

Roman must have recognised how much the offer meant to Logan, as he too seemed shocked that the usually oh-so calm and collected science teacher would propose something so unorthodox.

“You want to share a drink with me now?”

“Well encountering your colleagues won’t be an issue after work hours – Perhaps if we start highlighting all of their potential flaws now, you’ll be less inclined to test fate and pursue another doomed relationship with one of them later.”

“Hey!” Roman shouted incredulously, but he was genuinely laughing now.

The sound was so infectious that his co-worker soon found himself chuckling quietly to himself.

“I’ll ask the canteen staff if they can spare two small cups so we don’t drink too much,” Logan offered, “Plus I keep more than enough spare change in my wallet at all times to ensure we can afford a cab ride home. We won’t be stranded here at school if you accept. All I ask in return is that you turn off that infuriating song – I’ve heard it more than enough times now, thank you very much.”

“You drive a hard bargain, Mr Berry,” Roman responded, his lips forming a playful smirk as he pretended to mull the proposition over. “What album would you suggest we listen to in its place?”

“How about ‘The Wall’ by Pink Floyd? I believe I still have that cassette sitting in my car right now, along with ‘The Dark Side of the Moon.’”

“Oh, wow…” Roman drawled as he blinked his eyes rapidly in only semi-feigned surprise. “I think you just aged ten years for every word you just said, Lograndad.”

“Of course, you can always just sit here and listen to the sound of Janus’ voice instead.”

“On second thought-” Roman announced, standing up rather quickly as he grabbed his nearby coat and bag, “-Pink Floyd sounds like an excellent choice. Why don’t you lead the way?”

~ ~ ~

General Tag-List:

@sholaghhh (Formerly @lunamay2006) @not-so-innocent-bi-sander @saphael-malec102 @anastasialestina @seraphlies 

Additional Tags:

@sympathetic-deceit-trash

Note: It’s been a long time since I’ve posted a fic, so this tag-list may be a little outdated. If at any point you want to be added/removed from my tag-list then feel free to let me know!

As always, feedback is much appreciated! I was pretty out of practice here, so I’m sure I’d benefit a lot from constructive criticism!

For spelling, punctuation and grammar I followed Microsoft Word's English (UK) rules. Feel free to correct any errors you may find in the comments, but please keep in mind that some words are spelt differently here in the UK! 

I hope you’re all have a fan-der-tastic day!

~ ~ ~

[captaincravatthecapricious]

Collapse- Prompt Fill

Jon is a Dune fan. How can picking up one book change things? Idea from a tumblr prompt and a post by @roseunspindle (permission was granted for writing this)

cw all the typical episode 160 stuff and references to nausea and of course manipulation and fainting. Some dialogue from 160, and a quote from Dune, of course!

I am still accepting bingo prompts (card by @celosiaa​) Pick a prompt from the card and a character and let me know if you want art of fic! (I am much faster at art). I have several outlined that I need to write, and I will get to those... Soonish?  Have an excellent day and I hope 2021 treats you well!

Jon isn’t sure why he grabbed the book.  He’s read it before so it doesn’t hold the same interest it once did.   He had to work on that reading habit of his in school, and now he’s managed a few rereads, but he still prefers the unknown and interesting.

But he did love this book when he read it.  He was too young for it, of course.  But that hadn’t mattered.  He sucked the whole world into his young and greedy mind.  

And now that glossy, second hand cover.... makes him pause over it.  He doesn’t know how it survived evictions and his absences.  He must have subconsciously stored it out of the way.  But he grabs it, with a few statements, and his small collection of clothes into a very battered backpack that he’s sure once belonged to Melanie.  

He wishes he had more books.  Maybe once he and Martin reach the train station, he can pick up something else to read.  Or maybe he can borrow some books from Martin….

He stuffs Dune into his backpack.  It’s on the top, distending the fabric slightly, straining the zipper as his grandmother had always reprimanded him for when he shoved too many pleasure books into his school bag, (always to read under the desk and he was always inevitably caught and reprimanded again, but what could you do with an inattentive student who still pulled good marks?).  

He boards the train with Martin.  Battered and aging backpacks filled with worn clothes and statements and books and granola bars.  The station had been loud and busy enough to send Jon reeling with the information spilling off a crowd of people as well as the less eldritch sensory overload.  His head aching dully as they settle into their seats.  

Medicine for motion sickness sends him drowsy as soon as it is effective.  He spends the time before it works staring queasily out the window, clammy hands holding tightly to Martin as much to sooth his uneasy stomach as to hold Martin in this plain of reality.  He nods off, hands still clasped with Martin’s.  Wrapped up in the elation of having Martin with him, around him, talking to him…. almost safe.  

He wakes up in a storm of hurried breaths and crashing thoughts…. precarious as the crashing waves that haunted the lonely, but far closer and more oppressive.  Statements tumbling with his own crashing thoughts.  Fear on his breath.  His fear making him Hungry in the nauseous way of autocannibleism.  

He presses his face into Martin, only just then realizing that he’s been using Martin as a pillow.   Martin, who is dozing.  Martin, who is still a little foggy.  The last of the haze burning off with the contact.  Jon can see the steam rising between them, mainly and gentle.  The sun burning the fog off a meadow in the early morning.  

Jon sits himself up, but stays pressed against Martin.  The imprint of Jon slowly thawing Martin as the train gently sways them both.  

Jon doesn’t want to sleep more.  He would much prefer to read, but it is still more than a bit of a gamble for him to even medicated.  But…. he’s bored.  

Dune.  

Right on the top of his bag.  Leaning over starting to make him queasy (which doesn’t bode well for reading attempts), he pulls it out and straightens up.  

He turns it over in his hands a few times, until his stomach settles.  He’s fine.  Just a few more minutes before the medicine works… probably anyhow.  

He flips through the pages, still waiting for his breathing to calm as well.  

Oh.  

He remembers this words… in a half remembered haze of childhood and tracing those words on his limbs and his walls.  With his eyes, and markers, and pencils.  On the inside of his eyelids.  Carved into the air about his bed as he repeated them to himself.  

‘I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past, I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.’

Reading those words again makes his hands shake like they had when he first read them… with Mr. Spider fresh in his nightmares.  Still missing the life he could never have with his parents.  

Jon fumbles for a pen.  

He traces them again on his forearm.  

Poorly written, of course.  Hands far from steady with the rocking of the train and the rocking of his stomach and the rolling of his world after the day he’s had.  But he is once more too tired to focus on anything much, so he tucks his book away again, and shoves the pen in his pocket.  

He tucks himself up against Martin again, using an old jumper as a blanket.  He knows he is taking a bit of a liberty, but he buries his face in Martin’s neck and breathes deeply.  He’s asleep again in moments.  

The trip isn’t eventful.  Lots of track clicking past.  Lots of drowsy hours.  A disappointing sandwich and a tasteless cup of tea.  Jostled shoulders.  Cramped restrooms.  Cramped necks.  Jon’s bad leg protesting the seating arrangements.  Then the slightly uncomfortable walk to the safe house.  Weighed down with hasty shopping and their lumpy bags.  Jon limping more heavily by the time they drag themselves over the threshold.  

In the domestic bliss, time stretches.  Lazy afternoons on the couch Jon and Martin entwined stretch into years in the golden light of afternoon.  Two weeks of cups of tea.  Of trips to the store.  Of statements that Jon goes through way too fast, try as he does to ration them.  Frantic phone calls to Basira as Jon can’t make the trip to town anymore.  More cuddling on the couch.  Bickering over who does the dishes, over who makes the best eggs.  Over what to have for dinner.  Discussions of what counts as a sandwich and whether cereal is a soup.  Jon being appalled that Martin eats cereal from the box directly with a spoon.  Martin being horrified that Jon eats dry cereal from a bowl with a glass of milk.  Playing footsie through dinner.  “Yes Martin, another soup.  Means less cooking.”  Sloppy kisses over glasses of wine.  Jon being too dizzy to go on walks.  Jon retracing Frank Herbert’s words on to his arm.  Over.  And over.  And over again.  

“I must not fear…”

“I must not fear…”

“I must not fear…”

“I must not fear…”

Until a package arrives.  

It’s unassuming and labeled in Basira’s careful penmanship.  If Jon expects to see tear-staines over a lost partner, he doesn’t see them.  

Martin kisses him soundly, and leaves to take pictures of good cows.  

Jon has been tucked up on the couch.  Under a thick blanket.  Finally in better spirits now that he has statements again, ready …so ready for his limbs to feel like his again.  

He tastes copper as he started to read.  The words don’t sit right in his mouth.  Before he can even properly start… before his mind is lost to him, he can feel the wrongness building.  And when the betrayal occurs, he can’t find it in him to be surprised or hurt.  All he can feel is a hollow fear…. a hungry fear.  Gaping and endless.  Tearing into his skin as he tears at his clothes, his skin, the statement that does not belong to Hazel Rutter and has nothing to do with a fire.  Aside from the fire in his throat and in his hand, and leaping from mark to mark as Jon learns what they actually are.  A map of manipulation.  A tool to make the actual tool.  The wood and hammer and nails that make him the door.  The door that he… that he.  “ Come to us in your perfection.                         

                                                                                               Bring all that is fear and all that                    

                    is terror and all that is the awful                    

                    dread that crawls and chokes and                       

                    blinds and falls and twists and                        

                    leaves and hides and weaves and                        

                    burns and hunts and rips and bleeds                    

                    and dies!                                              

                                                                                               Come to us.                                            

                                                                                               I-“

“I…”  Jon chokes.  His eyes sliding helplessly over the room.  Over many tokens of a happy life that he is never going to have.  Because of this…. this… he can’t even call it a betrayal.  His entire life has lead to this.  Every unhappy moment.  Every instinct he has ever had.  Every poor choice.  Every step another step towards the inevitable.  His eye catches on a familiar cover.  Somehow still glossy.  Despite Jon having carried it around like a safety blanket for the last few weeks.  And he catches those smudged and traced over words on his arm and he tears at himself, trying to stop.  

“I…”

He chokes again.  Around those last few words.  The words that will wrench the thunder from the sky and rend it asunder.  

“I…”

He breathes.  Possibly for the first time since his hands ghosted over the unassuming manilla folder.  

“‘I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past, I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.’”

His vision cuts out.  He must have stood at some point, because he is falling.  Stings cut.  Nothing to manipulate.  The puppet is broken.  

He wakes with a head full of cotton, but a heart devoid of fear.  There is a clarity in his limbs.  But exhaustion sits heavily on his chest.  He feels… clear.  And real.  And… like utter shit.  

But the arms around him are solid and warm and smell like tea and toast and all the good things Jon can think of in the world.  And even if Jon could bring himself to move… he wouldn’t have dreamt of doing so.  

There is burnt ink in the air.  

“Wha’?”  Marble-mouthed.  Heavy with the exhaustion of years of poor sleep, of running and fearing and the adrenaline crash of something horrifying being…over.  

“It’s alright, Jon.  Everything’s fine.  I…. I don’t know how you did it, but you stopped reading… and I burned it.  It’s gone.  We’re okay.”  

And Jon isn’t sure he understands…. but he doesn’t care.  Because he is not afraid, and Martin told him that everything is okay.  And he thinks… just Maybe.  Just… maybe… that it might be.  

He lets himself be tucked in.  He lets himself sleep.  

Jon takes up calligraphy.  He hates it.  Utterly despises it… but he becomes decent enough to write one thing for their mantel.  In the safe house.  Miles away from fear and Jonah Magnus… if the bastard is even still alive…  

Framed in gold, traced out in neat and flowing calligraphy:

‘I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past, I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.’ - Frank Herbert, Dune.  

[mlpdestinyverse]

Chapter extension to: “Always There” Related: Loneliness, Early Days,  Breaking Point

In the aftermath of her family’s conflict, Daring Do breaks out of her reminiscing to the reality of seeing her child off. 

Feat. Monochrome

Story and Description Under The Cut

Two figures sat together, underneath the overcast dawn sky. The Ponyville train station was vacant in the early weekday hours. Daring Do and Monochrome had arrived nearly an hour earlier, to ensure that they would catch the first train available. However, only one of them would be leaving that day. A chill hung in the spring air, accompanying the grey clouds that desaturated the world around them. Daring had eased herself out of the far recesses of her mind, where she too often found herself time after time. Old memories were lingering clear as if they had only transpired within the past year. Happy memories. Bittersweet memories. Though now they were clouded by a layer of heartache. Ever so slightly she tilted her head towards her eldest child beside her, chancing a glance. But she only found a tight, unreadable expression as Monochrome focused on the wooden boards beneath them. Her violet eyes then apprehensively drifted towards the horizon. There, the train tracks faded into a thin point in the distance. At any moment she knew a city train would be rolling into the station. And even now, despite the acceptance, a heavy pit sat uncomfortably in her stomach. "You didn't bring a book..." The question broke the long, dense silence, almost startling Daring. Monochrome's gaze remained fixated away from their mother. After seemingly feeling her eyes on them, Daring watched them angle their head to finally make eye contact. It was a casual remark. But the mare could sense a second layer beneath it; an open question. Monochrome's gaze fell away. "You...always bring a book when you have to wait." Daring managed a small smile and shrugged. "It's a little hard to read when you're lost in thought." She admitted. There was a hint of a laugh in her voice as she spoke. She wasn't sure if it was for them, or for herself. Monochrome's brow creased, shifting their body to face her better. With the melting tension, it was as if they were jumping on the chance to give her their undivided attention. "What were you thinking about...?" Daring could tell from the hesitation in their voice that Monochrome was bracing themself for something. And with how quietly the weeks had passed since their last real conversation, even with Daring's assistance with moving preparations, she knew why. The elephant was right there. She wanted to promise them things were fine. But they both knew well that was far from reality. "I'm just reminiscing a bit...it's silly, but I guess this just feels a lot different from when you first moved out," Daring explained. Her smile saddened. "You won't be on the other side of town anymore...it'll be something to get used to." Monochrome nodded lightly to themself. "Yeah...we'll be miles apart." Their soft words hung in the air, bringing about another length of silence. "...I'll visit..." They assured quietly. But there was unmistakable uncertainty and guilt in their face. "I just..." Daring smiled. Weakly. Knowingly. "When she's not here?" Monochrome winced, immediate discomfort visibly taking hold. Daring couldn't help her shoulders from slumping at the confirmation. But of course she knew. It was near unspoken the moment Monochrome had chosen to plan and carry out their move while their mother and brother were away. Daring sighed, her eyes falling close as she leaned her head back against the station wall behind her. "....you can't be around her right now. And it feels suffocating to stay here after everything. I know...I get it." In the blackness of her mind, she could see bleary images. Old faces that had earned her own bitterness and ire once upon a time. She slowly reopened her eyes, staring up at the wooden boards of the station above her. "It's not like I never left home for similar reasons, you know...?" Distantly, even with open eyes, she could rewatch her household's conflict play out again from that doorframe. Fury and grief, regret and confusion, all contained in one room. Her wife had a good heart. She could never be compared to the discriminative, controlling caretakers Daring's own grandparents had been to her in her youth. But Rainbow Dash was flawed like anybody else. Including herself. Daring Do had solved plenty of puzzles during her treasure-hunting days, but one that concerned her family left her at a complete loss. It had taken her days to rack her brain, desperately grasping at some understanding over the drastic decision her eldest had brought before her. While Rainbow Dash's mistake had been immense, and Monochrome had every right to be as furious as they were, a single grievance couldn't possibly be enough of a catalyst to force them away from their own hometown. Daring originally had tried to convince them to wait a while longer, to break their winter-long isolation and at least attempt an open dialogue with their mother. But once she thought back deeper, analyzing every interaction and past event, a series of unfortunate memories began resurfacing. And then it clicked. They connected to one another, escalating unnoticed by her to the fractured relationship that now existed before her eyes. Sitting back up, Daring noticed Monochrome's eye silently - even uneasily - follow her. She offered a warm albeit tired smile. "Time to yourself away from your roots will be good for you. I know you'll do great out there." Daring averted her gaze, then, out towards the grassy field beyond the station, and then towards the mountains beyond that. She felt a sad laugh bubble out of her, and an ache accompanied it in her chest. "But I suppose now I'm just... wondering if I've really done all I could for you." Daring lowered her head and slouched, feeling a weight to her muscles. There was newfound uncertainty and shame in light of her realization; in only now seeing the long-term consequences of Rainbow's absence and the accumulated disappointments made in their foal's life. Why did she think a child could move pass each one? Why did she always assume Rainbow's heroism made up for any of it? To think she had convinced herself that she knew her foal better than anyone. And now she sat here, feeling like an oblivious fool. Daring squeezed her eyes shut. "I'm sorry if I didn't do enough...I've been so short-sighted. There were things I should've seen sooner. And if I'd done more, maybe you wouldn't be hurting now-" “It was more than enough.” Daring's head shot up just as she heard Monochrome's hooves clack from rising up to their hooves. Their green eyes were wide with disbelief and bewilderment. In seconds their expression grew intense, with Monochrome taking a heavy step forward towards their mother. "Nothing was your fault," they spoke slowly and firmly, staring intently into her eyes. They held her gaze, and Daring felt too astonished to look away. But it didn't take long for Monochrome's expression to soften, their eyebrows narrowing back. "You...were everything I ever needed." Daring involuntarily sucked in a breath. It took a moment, and a fluttering of her eyelids, to realize that tears were beginning to prick the edges of her vision. She quickly moved to swipe them away, and this time, a genuine laugh escaped her. "Shut up and come here..." The golden Pegasus didn't wait to wrap her forelegs around her foal's neck and tug them down into a snug hug. The way she felt them tense gave her the impression that she had caught them off guard. But within a few beats, Monochrome slowly and wordlessly hugged her back. A bump against her hoof had Daring pull away to look down at their momentarily forgotten third party. Tank's beady tortoise eyes greeted her, an affectionate beam spread across his wrinkly green face. It wouldn't have surprised her if it had taken him all this time to walk around Monochrome just to reach her. Resting his leathery head against her foreleg, he released a grunt up at her. Daring smiled warmly, kneeling down on her forelegs to meet his level. "Say, I can trust you to keep looking after our kiddo, right?" she playfully asked. As she expected, Tank nodded back earnestly, and that gesture somehow helped alleviate some of the worry that she couldn't bring herself to shake. Upon looking up to meet Monochrome's eye, she noticed the pale Pegasus quietly studying Tank. There was a subtle crease to their brow, one that had Daring frowning and opening her mouth to speak- -chik chik CHIK CHIK Returning to her hooves, Daring followed her perked ear to catch a new sight in the distance. As if on cue, the multicolored train released a sharp whistle into the air, piercing the morning atmosphere to signal all in its vicinity. Almost immediately, Monochrome had straightened their posture, and that serious demeanor Daring had grown accustomed to washed over them. It was vastly different from her memories of a far more timid foal, clinging anxiously to her leg. But if that wasn't an indication of how much they had grown into adulthood and changed, she didn't know what was. Strangely enough, time seemed to quicken. As the train grew closer, a few other ponies arrived at the platform, seemingly living closer or perhaps having less to pack. Within minutes the train was pulling into the station, and a conductor and porter were stepping out of its opened doors. "ALL ABOOOARD!" the older stallion bellowed. Daring went on to assist in handing over Monochrome's baggage to the young porter, who gave a friendly salute as she piled the luggage in the caboose. And as they stepped back from the train, creating a space for themselves away from the small few preparing for boarding, Daring willed time to slow down. Because now came the moment she had been dreading. How funny it was, to realize how much she herself had changed. A long time ago, Daring Do lived a life of few attachments, leaving her a hardened, fearless adventurer with very little that daunted her. Yet here she was, restless over watching her child head off on their own personal journey. "Write me when you're all settled, alright?" "Yeah." "And don't worry about your brother. I'll handle everything here." "Thank you." The two stiffly stood before one another. Daring searched her mind for anything else she could say during this last brief moment. There had to be more she could say. Surely there was some sort of advice or assurance to part with as their mother, to make up for where she had lacked. "See ya..." She jumped as Monochrome's hooves slid away, their body turning to move towards the sizable structure of the train. Her hoof shifted, wanting to reach out. Despite parting her mouth, no words formed. And so she forced her lips to press into a firm line. Soon, they would be out of her immediate reach, hours of travel away. But at least they would be happier. At the very least, a new life away from their family was what they wanted. Monochrome's hoofsteps stopped. Turning her ears forward, Daring stared quizzically at the motionless Pegasus. She would have thought that they'd forgotten something- In a flurry of motion and feathers, Monochrome galloped back and threw their arms around their mother, clutching her in an all-encompassing embrace. Their outstretched wings followed after, with black and white plumage enclosing the two of them, creating a warm barrier that blocked out any prying eyes or noise. Daring could only sit there, stunned and confused, before Monochrome gave her one last squeeze. Pulling back, they pressed their forehead against hers with eyes shut tight. "I love you, mom..." They gently murmured. Slowly, their eyelids rose. And there, Daring saw something somber, and anxious, and familiar in those soft, misting green irises. Emotions flooded Daring Do at that moment, realizing just how silly she felt. Taking in her foal in front of her, she let out a watery laugh while tears gathered in the creases of her own eyes. 'You dummy...putting on a tough face for me. You haven't changed after all...' Somehow she felt better, knowing Monochrome looked just as nervous about the move as she felt. It made her realize just how long they'd cherished each other's company, and how much they had relied on one another during times of unspoken loneliness. And even after all of her lamenting over her failures as a parent, maybe there was some merit, knowing her kid would miss her as much as she'd miss them. Daring cupped Monochrome's face in her hooves. The pale Pegasus leaned into her hold. She smiled fondly at them, pecking a kiss onto their nose. "I love you too, Momo." With that, she pulled the younger Pegasus into one final hug, one relaxed and comforting. It was strange how she was only realizing new details now. Such as how their height dwarfed her own, leading to a face full of chest feathers. With a teary sniffle, a laugh shook her shoulders. "Where in the world did you get your height from? Honestly...you used to be so tiny." A rumble of a chuckle sounded from Monochrome's throat. Pulling away, playfulness danced within their own eyes. "Who knows...unless there's something you're not telling me." Daring lightly rolled her violet irises, smiling. "That is not unveiled until book thirteen, honey." Monochrome smiled back and shook their head, just as the loud whistle sounded off once more. "LAST CALL! ALL ABOARD!" the conductor shouted. Monochrome planted a quick kiss on their mother's head, lightly nudging her temple with their muzzle. "I'll see you." "See you soon," she answered, giving a lop-sided smile as she motioned her head towards their carry-on bag. "And don't forget those dried peppered pears I packed you! Canterlot is a ways away." Smiling back gently, Monochrome reached down to rev Tank's enchanted 'copter, wrapping the leash attached to the contraption's strap around their hoof. And just like that, Daring was quietly watching Tank and her Pegasus board the train. They spared her one last glance, holding it for a second longer, before walking further into the car and out of sight. Once the doors closed behind the conductor, the steaming train picked up speed. Daring was left waving them farewell until the vehicle was but a speck on the horizon. Her heart felt worn. But now there was also warmth and, more importantly, hope. If she had learned anything from her own experiences, this was Monochrome's time to heal and learn far more about themself than their small world of Ponyville could ever offer. The well-traveled voyager in her wished them nothing but the best in traversing that unknown. And the mother in her was ready to support them however way she could. Daring Do wanted to believe with every fraction of herself that Monochrome would find what they needed to return and face this. She herself did in time, after all.

[rigelmejo]

Ok so I’m still reading this fanfic, still on chapter 3. In my defense I am reading DAILY and this fic is well written and also complex ah.

I do think me pushing through the first few chapters helped immensely though. Authors do have a “style/particular word choice preference” and I think I’m through the bulk of it. Now I can pick up a lot more of this author’s usual adjective choices and ways of describing. Like which words are used to express things like sigh, look, gently, weakly, expressionlessly, warm, cold etc. As for the nouns - I think that is a hurdle whenever there’s new exposition, but once that introduction is over the same nouns are repeated again and again because they’re plot relevant. (In this case, the home Zhang Qiling owns and it’s furniture and layout objects, the silk clothing shop and embroidery/tailoring items he interacts with regularly, photography related words, ghost/blood related words). Now that those parts of the world have been established, the narration just keeps repeating those same words in new contexts as the plot progresses. So it’s gotten easier - I’m now recognizing a lot of those words without looking them up. I imagine I’ll keep getting repetition on these words as I read, which is helping me learn them. And there shouldn’t be another huge hurdle until the plot switches to a new ‘arc’ with new main nouns (idk maybe a bank? An isolated river bank? Who knows what will be next).

I do think I’m learning some words, I do think the repetition is helping me learn some words. Thankfully, I am also picking up a bit of new Hanzi recognition too - this part is slower going, but for the very frequent words (and words with very intuitive radicals like 飘 and 瞟) I am starting to easily recognize them.

I do think this read through is benefiting me. This novel is so “hard” to me, so it takes like 40 minutes a chapter. But I have no doubt my reading speed will be way up once I go back to easier material, and my dictionary lookups will be less frequent. Easier stuff being: less intense plot fanfics, stories I’m familiar with (Silent Reading and Guardian might well be easier after this), dmbj might well become easier (dmbj is WAY LESS descriptive than this fic), slice of life novels will Definitely be easier.

So, like usual: I do something too hard for me, and it makes the things actually-my-level suddenly much easier. My current reading method for this novel: reading through and thinking the pronunciation, clicking any new words I need to understand (I’ve just been looking up all new words cause I’m not I’m a rush), and clicking any new words I don’t know the pronunciation of to listen to it. So basically, intensive reading. I normally prefer to do extensive reading and only look up as necessary to follow the main gist, but I am using this fic to drag my vocabulary up more - so more lookups. Also, this fic is really good, I don’t want to skip any details. I noticed with this fic: I’m very good in general with reading dialogue without dictionary help, compared to other parts of a novel.

—-

Other activity I’m doing for study/etc: Listening-Reading Method with Silent Reading by Priest.

Goal is to drag up my listening comprehension, and hopefully learn some new words/phrases by listening. Ideally this method eventually gives you some “natural learning” base ability so that you can hear simpler audio and fully comprehend it afterward (or mostly, to the point you can then pick up new words from context when listening to easier content). And so that you can have better ability to comprehend listening when watching shows/talking etc. I very much want to drag my listening comprehension at least up to my reading level. And I’d LOVE if I picked up new words too - since i am fairly good at recognizing Hanzi in reading, if I had more audio base of words I think I could pick up overall words in reading a bit easier (as in remember their pronunciation faster).

For this, I have been doing Step 1 - reading a chapter in English for context. Then step 3 - listening to chinese audiobook and skimming the English to attach meaning to what I hear and follow along. It’s been working very well.

I skipped step 2 since I already have listened to the audiobook with the chinese text for some chapters before, and I listen pretty decently already. I might do step 2 AFTER I’m done with the book in step 3, in order to attach Hanzi spelling to the audio words I’m picking up in this Step 3 read through. In that way, I can use Step 2 to improve my reading comprehension a little (to try and match both reading and listening levels a bit more).

Step 3 has been very easy. But it is critical that: I read each chapter in English first (otherwise, I try to read the English instead of skimming for meaning when I do step 3). And also that the audio matches the translation content wise! As in the paragraphs roughly are the same! This makes all the difference in if step 3 can even benefit you!!! On if step 3 is even possible as a study method!!! For Silent Reading, a few lines of dialogue are switched or ordered differently, but all of the paragraphs are still there in some form, and all the descriptive paragraphs mostly have the same exact sentence order. (And dialogue being varied is less of an issue for me - unknown words still seem to match the English so I can attach some meaning to them, and I can already understand dialogue pretty well when listening without any text so these changes don’t make me lost). Also, the person reading aloud tends to pause a little after each paragraph, giving me time to realize we’ve moved on (if I somehow did get lost mid paragraph), and giving me a chance to figure out if a paragraph was skipped in the audio (it almost never is, but if so, this pause gives me time to skim and figure out where I am in the text again). The audio being so compatible with the text means step 3 is very easy. I do NOT have to waste some of my concentration to struggle to match audio to text, I can use all of my focus on listening to the audio and glancing for the definition of unknown words. Which is the main goal of Step 3. (I tried L-R Method with a novel with highly mismatched audio, and it was so bad I couldn’t even do a chapter all the way through, and most of my focus was just keeping my place in the text - not even focusing on the audio’s meaning). For Silent Reading I have been able to easily breeze through Step 3, simply following along. The readers voice is also very clear, so I can easily locate the sentence I’m hearing based on the words I know WELL.

I imagine doing this for Guardian, with Avenuex’s audiobook, would be equally “smooth” as an experience. Her audiobook matches the text almost perfectly, her reading voice is clear and a good normal pace (I can follow the gist just listening to the audio on its own twice or so), and she naturally pauses with the flow of the story shifts.

[darkmindsthinktwistedthoughts]

Time to move on

Warning: Angst. One hurting prickly porcupine warlord in modern au. 

Masterlist

---

Time to move on

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Every fibre in his being was screaming at him, telling him that and yet he still couldn’t move. The pale lilacs and delicate daisies adorned the seating for the simple ceremony. The soft waves lapping at the shore were drowned out by his hammering heart. He watched expressionlessly as she walked slowly towards the arch of white roses.

Her hair was flowing free, her usual style had been altered for today and he couldn’t prevent himself from looking at her. A couple of thin braids had been twisted together to create a crown on her head, small pearl accessories settled in them like sea foam. The pastel shade of her gown complimented her blushing face. She was a vision in all her blissful happiness and with each step she took, it felt like another dagger plunged into his chest.

*

The previous night…

Everyone had finally arrived at the small hotel and in typical Nobunaga style, a celebration party was being thrown. He called it “one last night of freedom” but it boiled down to any excuse to drink when he could finally gather everyone in the same place.

Mc had been in her room but appeared after a few hours encouraged by a slightly drunk Hideyoshi and a grinning Mitsuhide. She looked just the same as the day he’d met her. 6 years… had it really been that long? She looked a little uncomfortable glancing around the room at the men, something he couldn’t help but empathise with.

“Don’t just stand there blocking the door.” He called out to her his tone a little harsher than he had meant it to be. When she turned her big eyes in his direction, he felt instantly guilty for it. “There’s some room over here if you are looking for a seat. Or not, it’s up to you.”

“Thank you, Yasu.” She gingerly took a seat next to him at the bar and received a brightly coloured cocktail from the bartender. She looked tense. He was never very good at getting people to relax, but then again, he was never bothered by such a thing until now. She had always had this way of throwing him off his game to the point where he was at a loss at to what to do with himself.

*

The new semester had started and he had managed to rush out of the house forgetting to pick up his thermos. The coffee he had brewed was nowhere at hand so he had gone to the student café and that was when he met her. She was laughing and joking with ease behind the counter with the other students and when she looked at him he thought his heart had stopped.

That was the first time he saw her but It wasn’t the last. He kept going back for coffee but only on days, she was working. Never before had he been so interested in someone. They had slowly opened up some dialogue with each other that he didn’t find as frustratingly exhausting as he had thought it would be. She somehow wasn’t like other people and he was silently drawn to her.

His reluctance to admit how he felt directly ended up costing him dearly. Mitsunari had followed him one day to return some textbooks he had borrowed and in a clumsy display of short-sightedness, he had bumped into Mc as she was wiping down a table. He watched as she exchanged words in complete freefall with the smiling annoyance.

The conversations he had had with her seemed to pale by comparison as he watched the effortless grace with which Mitsunari gained knowledge from Mc and even managed to shamelessly offer to attend an exhibit at a museum with her. The coffee in his mug had lost its flavour that day and he was convinced the strawberry tart was made from ash.

*

Several drinks later he became more aware of the woman next to him. She had spoken to the others on and off but remained seated at the bar almost as if she was hiding. Not surprising given the fact it was the night before her wedding and she probably didn’t want to be here. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye noticing how flushed her face looked. Counting the glasses lined up next to her he made the connection quickly.

“Come on.” He got to his feet and grabbed her hand, giving it a small tug.

“Huh? Where are we going?” despite her confusion she was already moving to join him.

“To get some air, you’re drunk.” He pointed out what should have been obvious rolling his eyes attempting not to notice how warm her hand was in his.

“I am not.” Mc grumbled cutely with a pout causing him to sigh in exasperation. Everything was complicated enough in his head without this on top. He stopped dead in his tracks and turned to her, his emerald eyes communicating the unspoken concern for her.

“Look either you walk out there or I carry you out. Either way, you are getting air. It is going to be a pain in the ass if you collapse in here. You will worry everyone and I will have to treat you for being a drunken fool.” He still hadn’t let go of her hand and just stood there watching as she swayed slightly on the spot letting his words sink in as the gears in her mind slowly clicked round.

“Ok, I’ll walk.”

“Good” He turned away from her again and began waking not noticing the soft smile playing on his face.

“You know for a Doctor you have a terrible bedside manner.” Her complaint from behind him almost made him laugh.

“I might be a doctor but I’m mostly dealing with research. You don’t get many Petri dishes complaining about your choice of words and attitude.”

Outside the building, the moon was high in the sky sending rays of white light down onto the surface of the water. It was a beautifully serene place which made how he was feeling all the more frustrating. He didn’t want to admit the place was great, that she looked fantastic even in just her normal clothes. He certainly didn’t want to remember that tomorrow she would be marrying one of the clumsiest and oblivious geniuses that he knew. Hell, he didn’t even want to admit he thought that Nari was smart. He dropped her hand and let her lean on the balustrade her eyes travelling out to the ocean and gleaming as they reflected the dancing light on the water.

“You know I can never get a read on you?”

“What?” Her small voice was like a whisper but he caught every word none the less.

“I could never figure you out. One minute you seemed like the most disinterested guy I’d ever met but then you could do something so thoughtful just a few moments later making my heart race that I was always thrown off by you.” Fuelled by her drunkenness her uncandid honesty made his jaw drop. How long had she felt like that? His mind reeled as it tried to grasp on to something stable. He had never said anything to her, he always wanted too but it had just never happened.

“You weren’t the only one thrown off.”

“What?” She turned to him and he could see himself reflected perfectly in her eyes. He wanted to remain there but there was something else bubbling away inside his chest now. Guilt. Along with the regret and unconfessed affection he had developed a sensation of guilt for everything.

“Well you weren’t difficult to talk to but you were always making an effort and it was a little distracting. It used to throw me off sometimes.” He tried to play off his previous comment like it was nothing. Her face contorted into an uneasy smile and he felt his heart twist as he saw it. Why couldn’t he just be honest even now?

“I see. Well, I’m not sorry for doing that. You are a good guy Ieyasu… A good friend.” Her last word hit him like a truck. Friend. Yes, that was all he was now. All he could ever be to her and the reality of that suddenly took all the colour out of the world. All of the sound and light vanished until he was alone in the dark with his ‘what ifs?’.

The wind picked up, pulling her hair loose from its tie and without hesitation, he took his hand and tucked it back behind her ear. Her eyes were again fixed on him. He was close enough now, closer than before to catch the scent of her shampoo on the wind. He heard her breath catch in her throat just as his had. It felt like they were in their own pocket of time.

*

A hand patting him on the shoulder broke him from his memory.

“She looks happy doesn’t she?”

“Does she?” Ieyasu glanced to the man next to him and felt the desire to suddenly pull away but held still. Carnelian eyes and a knowing smirk told him that once more Nobu had seen easily through him and he hated it when he did that.

“Sometimes it's better to let things go and accept it than to hold on to things and watch it destroy everything.” Nobu returned his gaze to the happy couple at the altar. That pale cream tux and lilac blazer complimented the dress, making them look picture perfect. As much as it made him feel sick to his stomach he also couldn’t deny that what he was being told was true.

“You think you are always so smart…” Ieyasu gripped quietly and the hand on his shoulder tightened its grip for a fraction of a second before pulling away.

“You don’t need me to tell you the rest. But she is happy Ieyasu. There is some solace to be found in that for you even if right now it is the furthest thing from your mind.”

*

The ceremony was over and the happy couple could be seen laughing with a carefree attitude to the rest of the world as they spun around on the sand to some music. The sunlight caught sections of her hair and glittering lace embellishments making her shine like a star.

He hated this. He hated that he had let the chance slip past him. He hated ho he couldn’t say what he wanted too. He hated even more that she was in the arms of another man smiling like that for them and not him. But most of all he hated himself. He turned away from the dancing and made to slip away unnoticed back to the hotel, hoping to find some release from his on condemnation at the bottom of a bottle somewhere.

“Ieyasu!”

His feet stopped as he heard his name. He snorted at his own inability to even do something as simple as leaving unhindered.

“Shouldn’t you be dancing? What are you doing chasing after me Nari?” Ieyasu turned to notice that the silver-haired groom was not alone and bit back every other harsh comment he had.

“We just wondered where you were going. We saw you leaving and…” Mc did indeed look genuinely concerned and he couldn’t help but think she was unintentionally cruel. Bitterness flowed through him leaving a nasty taste in his mouth but he forced himself to act normally.

“Can a guy not go to the bathroom in peace anymore?”

“Oh! Of course… sorry, we were a little worried that maybe you weren’t feeling well.”

Ieyasu maintained his gruff appearance as he watched them return without him. Never before had he been so thankful that Nari was so oblivious to things. Deep down he knew Nobu had said what he did because it was true and he cared. That knowledge didn’t help him right now though.

“Time to move on…” He muttered to himself before continuing to head back to his room. He didn’t know how long it was going to take but he was certain of one thing. He wanted her to be happy. He closed his eyes and held a deep breath for just long enough his body almost forgot how to breathe.

---

[nvcl347]

Writing Reality

Based off of @neoalix's gorgeous Anti illustration here

~

12:13

The clock ticked once... twice... on and on again.

You could smash the thing to bits at any moment by each second that passed. Chances are even if you shattered the thing to its smallest fragment you could you'd still hear the chimes of its mechanisms echo through your head endlessly.

The humming of your computer engine was the worst of it. Touching its side felt like a steaming heated plate of fries. It had been on all day long without even a simple restart. First, it was your mother for work, then your brother for his classes, and finally you. You didn't care either-or. The only thing that was getting on your nerves was the fan inside it attempting to cool it down, which didn't do much but heat it more to even run the fan itself and cause a bunch of nagging noise. Everything else was silent.

Without a doubt, out of all the family, you were the one who stayed up arguably the latest of everyone. It scared them at times, but your work schedule made up for it as your hours tended to be positioned in the afternoon more than in the morning.

In the midst of writing a draft for what was a script for your job, the words began to scramble as you typed rather unnaturally.

"They had no idea what to do at first, staring at the phenomenon with a cold, pale expression."

Suddenly, the screen jittered out for a moment, a blink-and-you'll-miss-it if you will, and the text shifted into completely different dialogue.

"There was nothing they could do, even if they tried... the pair of eyes stared at the creature with a dead look in their rotting soul. They were left for dead."

You blinked a few times, staring blankly at the text in denial. You were just seeing things, right? You must've just accidentally sleep-typed mindlessly for a moment. But why would you write something so dark? Your mindset didn't feel all that negative lately.

You sighed with a tiresome rub of your hand across your head. You really needed to get some rest already. You're seeing things now.

You hastily retyped the text back to how you remember it originally being written, a little dumbfounded as to how it could've possibly occurred. Shaking it off, you continued to type. Your head throbbed, and your eyes didn't feel like they had blinked in hours.

12:35

Enough was enough for you. Every paragraph you wrote was somehow twisted into a vile manuscript that seemed to be written out by a psycho in less than a second after you would press the return bar on your keyboard. It was disturbing some of how the text would transition over, and the process of going over it nearly made you sick at times for what you read. It was about time you went to bed.

You went to close out of your document, clicking the X to shut the window. Strangely, it was grey. You couldn't click out of it.

You cocked your head to the side, trying to minimize the window instead and right-click it to exit the tab. Once again, the option wasn't available.

"Jesus, what the hell is up with this thing?" You slammed the desktop lightly at it's side, causing the screen to flicker momentarily.

Your heart jolted for a moment, regretting your decision to hit the computer shortly after, thinking you nearly could've broken it. What you didn't know, however, was that the flicker of the screen wasn't from you.

You pressed ctrl+S on your keyboard to save the document for later instead, but the saving menu didn't appear. You pressed the combination of keys again, and again. Nothing appeared.

You grit your teeth together in irritation and distress, nearly just wanting to punch a hole through the screen. Why was it that the computer only had problems like this when you were on?

Then, one final click blew the computer screen to a clean sheet of white, the only thing left which the pixels presented to you were the words typed to your document. In shock and dismay, you observed as the cursor actively hovered over your numerous lines of text and deleted it all. Without laying a finger on it, you watched as an invisible force pressed the key combination of ctrl+S on your keyboard. That's when you heard the small ring of your computer emit from it's speaker. It was successfully saved.

Hours of work erased... just like that.

"What the... Wh-what is this!" You stumbled on your words, pushing back in your chair unsteadily.

The keys began typing on their own once again, the text appearing over the screen in pure silence. That's when you noticed the clock wasn't ticking, and the computer was no longer humming; it was off... but the screen wasn't.

12:35

That same line you typed out just a few minutes ago was typed out once again, right before your very eyes.

"They had no idea what to do at first, staring at the phenomenon with a cold, pale expression."

It was talking about you.

The text was deleted, and you were left with a blank, beaming screen of white blinding your eyes. Just as the description noted, you were frozen stiff in fear. You had no clue as to how you should react to this.

Abruptly, a large green hand latched onto the edge of your computer monitor, pulling its entire form out of the white light which illuminated the whole room. You gasped in terror, nearly falling off your chair as the figure's sickening bloodied face appeared before you.

You knew exactly who it was.

"You think you can just get away with leaving me behind by writing out your sorrows on flimsy paper don'cha?" He taunted you in a distorted tone, tilting his head to the side sarcastically.

The red drooping from his eyes made you clinch yourself together. His smile was wide and vicious, flashing with only malicious intent for you.

"Truth be told (Y/N)..." You watched in horror as his other arm reached out from the screen with a bloody blade in-hand.

"... I never left, because your sorrows are just me!" He held his knife to his throat, gently sliding it across the already open wound which was present there.

"What do you want from me!" You shouted at him with a crack in your voice, your hands clammy and throat strained tighter than ever before.

"Oh you idiot, it's not what I want," He raised his red-stained hand towards you with those soulless black eyes piercing through yours.

"It's what you've earned, " He cackled loudly in amusement, echoing across the room endlessly.

His eyes flickered back to their green and blue irises, staring at you with amusement visible in his glare as opposing to your horrified expression in return. Your mouth could barely manage to twitch out a whisper anymore.

"Good luck with that sweet little paper of yours~," He cooed satirically.

"Both you and I know that we best hope it doesn't give me any new ideas; I'm not done with you, " His voice suddenly went into a deep, monotone reverberance.

A white static noise began to fill the air, filling your eardrums painfully as you covered them with your hands as hard as you could. Nothing stopped it from being any quieter.

Your computer screen glitched in and out violently as he laughed his way back into the flashing-white screen. A single tear slid down your face as you shouted aloud for everything to stop.

Then, everything went quiet again, leaving behind only a subtle ringing in your ears.

Your computer screen was back to your document with all of its writing restored. You could now save and close out of the document without a struggle. The computer was also back to cooling itself away again with its boisterous humming as did before. Last, but not least, was the clock. Ticking away once again as time began to stride away through the unsettling night.

12:36

[socoolraywoodbloghere]

Full of Yourself

Y’all ever get consumed by the ghost-of-writing’s-past and impulsively stay up way too late writing a fanfic all because you wanted to use one set of dialogue you thought would be funny? So anyway, here’s wonderwall

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20024296

Ray hesitated in front of the door. This was dumb. It was arguably a breaking of their unspoken rules of privacy. He and Ryan didn’t ask stuff directly, certainly not in actual words. They just, you know, took what they were given when they were given it, let the other know they were there and would listen and would care. It was a good system. One that resulted in Ryan knowing things about Ray no one else ever has and maybe ever will. Ray likes to think it also goes vice-versa. But this was bugging him. Bugging wasn’t even the right word for it, this was eating at him, slowly and surely, every second of every day, and making him hollower and hollower by the minute. He needed to get this addressed.

The worst part was he seemed to be the only one who didn’t know who it was – who on earth did Ryan like? He knew the guy too much and knew the tells too well to not know his attitude was definitely the result of some kind of crush. Ray’s been through it too himself, he knows exactly what stage Ryan’s in: smack dab in the thick of the finally-having-accepted-he-likes-them-but-not-yet-met-with-the-crushing-reality-that-to-have-anything-happen-would-require-the-mortifying-ordeal-of-being-known zone. Ray zoomed past that post like a couple months ago and has landed in the knows-Ryan-will-never-return-his-feelings-but-will-enjoy-his-time-with-him-nonetheless-if-bittersweetly position on the rode o’ heartbreak. Recently it’s felt less like a road and more like an ouroboros, but the metaphor still stands.

Every time he tried to get info out of the others, they gave him this frustrating look of, “I know, but I won’t tell you, and it’s withering that you don’t already know,” as they swore they knew nothing of the sort. Which, honestly? They can go fuck themselves about that. Why are they all such assholes about this? There’s literally no reason to be, especially since Ray’s been so careful to hide his feelings so there’s no way they can know he has, like, a personal investment here.

So now he’s here, last resort. Actual, verbal communication. He’s already tried to talk himself out of it, told himself Ryan would tell him if and when he wanted to. He wasn’t owed this information. It was probably someone he didn’t even know (didn’t want to think about if that would hurt more than knowing them). It didn’t matter who it was, he was going to be happy for the guy anyway. Be there for talking about it no matter how much it hurt. Keep his heart hidden and let Ryan be happy – Ryan deserved to be happy.

And yet, Ray still wants to know. He just- he just wants to know, is all. So… you know. He guesses he’ll just… ask. Politely.

Ray took a deep breath and knocked on the door, some part of him wishing Ryan wasn’t actually home even though he knew for a fact he was.

There was a grunt from the other side of the door and Ray finally properly steeled himself. “Yo,” Ray called. There was a moment of shuffling sounds and then the door was unlocked and there was Ryan. His hair was a little mussed in its bun, the permanent bags under his eyes were no worse than usual, his t-shirt looked soft and his jeans were the dad-est thing Ray’s ever seen a serial killer wear in his life. Like usual, Ryan stepped aside and just let Ray into his room, not a word needing to be said.

When had this become their usual, Ray wondered. It’s not like they did anything when they hung out. Mostly Ray slouched improperly on some piece of furniture and/or floor. Sometimes tapping at his phone or DS, sometimes staring off into space while he fidgeted with something. Ryan’s room was quiet. In Ryan’s room Ray felt like he could relax. Ryan’s room had plants and blank walls that he wasn’t responsible for thinking about customizing. It was definitely weird that Ray found the idea of decorating or even properly living in his room stressful, but he did. Those pressures weren’t in Ryan’s room.

Plus, Ryan’s room had Ryan – doing something on his laptop, tapping away on a phone, tinkering away at something on his desk, reading a book like some kind of literate person. Sometimes Ryan would put on a movie and Ray would wander his way over and find himself leaning on him to watch it. Sometimes Ray would bring his switch and demand Ryan try to beat him in Mario Kart.

Sometimes Ray would knock and Ryan wouldn’t be doing so good, but for some reason he still let Ray in, as if having Ray there was better than not. Ray still hasn’t figured out why, but he does his best during those times to just quietly be there. He’d leave if Ryan asked him to, go if Ryan didn’t open the door. But Ryan never shooed him out. It’s just their usual.

Or, at least, it’s their current usual. If Ryan’s interested in someone, well, he really wouldn’t need Ray moping around to cramp his style. Probably wouldn’t be at the penthouse that much either anyway, and Ray’s not so desperate as to break into a guy’s room (not yet at least…). Ray takes a moment as he enters the room to mourn their usual, something he didn’t even realize he’d had to do till just now.

Yeah, Ray’s going to end up taking all of this super well. This is such a super good idea. He’s so fucking smart and good at things, Jesus Christ.

Ryan closed and re-locked the door – a motion one should typically fear when done by the Vagabond, but somehow being locked in a room with Ryan was probably Ray’s #1 pick for top-ten-places-that-give-him-emotional-and-physical-security. Ryan returned to where he must have been before Ray knocked, on the bed doing something with his computer. Ray always found it kind of funny (kind of cute) that no matter where Ryan was sitting, he always had perfect posture. Ray was positive that if he managed to make it to old age he’d pay for his slouching in back pain, but Ryan would be good to go for years. If they make it to then.

Ray considered, just for a moment, chickening out and just living with not knowing. Just enjoy this day and the next until it was over. But the gnawing in his stomach hadn’t let up for a single second and he knew he couldn’t do that.

Ray leaned against the desk and crossed his arms lightly, a flimsy physical barrier to the hurt to come. The distance between the two of them was a few feet, but somehow it felt like a chasm. Ryan looked up from his laptop for just a moment and then again, taking in Ray’s posture. That was another thing – Ryan could read him like a book. Ray could hide anything from anyone, but for some reason Ryan could always see right through. There wasn’t a point to putting up a façade for him, so Ray found himself not doing it. Now Ryan watched him, waiting for Ray to be ready to say what was on his mind. Ray studied the carpet.

Well, have to start this thing off one way or another.

“So, I, uh, heard you started to get interested in someone…” It was blunt, for sure. Not Ray’s usual beating around the bush, saying everything but what he wants. He doesn’t have to be direct, Ryan somehow catches his drift no matter what, but in this matter, he doesn’t know how else to say it.

Ray finally tore his eyes from the carpet to look at Ryan. Ryan’s face was in a red-hot blush and he stared owlishly at Ray. Well, there’s his answer, there’s his confirmation. As much as Ray knew that Ryan must surely like someone, some part of his heart was holding out for him to be wrong, for Ryan to have absolutely no interest in anyone. But the look on Ryan’s face makes it clear that he’s got a crush, and honestly probably a real doozy of one too.

Ray’s heart crumbles into dust in his chest. He wants to leave right then, go back to his stupid room and just not come back out. But still his morbid curiosity needs to know: Who? Who gets to have Ryan when Ray can’t?

“Must, uh, be a pretty good looker, to get your attention and all…” Ray mumbled to the floor.

And then, Ryan scoffed. Scoffed! And suddenly Ray looked up at him, now red in the face (from embarrassment or indignity, Ray wasn’t entirely sure).

“Well aren’t we full of ourselves?” Ryan said, still red in the face and now looking at the carpet himself. What?

“What?” Ray said, confused.

“What?” Ryan said, now looking up again in confusion, but it was a confusion as to why Ray was confused, which just confused Ray more.

“What do you mean?”

“Well you just called yourself good looking, so…” Ryan trailed off, now looking anywhere else once more. Huh?

“… No, I meant the person you like?”

“Right,” Ryan said, brow furrowed and looking up again, “You.”

“What?” Ray said.

“What?” Ryan said.

“What?” Ray said again, and for half a second, he thought it was clicking. Then his brain decided to immediately short circuit, however, so he lost it.

“You didn’t know already??” Ryan asked, confused. Know what? What would he know already? Know that Ryan liked him?

What? What!? What?

Ray didn’t really process it, he didn’t have time, he felt defensive. His one working brain cell decided that responding was more important than processing.

“No!! How was I supposed to know if you didn’t tell me!!” Ray shot back, because that was a fair point, actually.

“I-I thought that was why you were here!”

“No! I just wanted to know who it was I needed to be jealous of!” Ray’s last braincell needs to shut the FUCK up and stop being honest. But it’s pointless because his stupid self decided Ryan is safe enough for no façade. Idiot.

“Jealous? Why would you need to be jealous?”

Now it was Ray’s turn to scoff, “I! Because! The guy I like liking someone else is something to be jealous about!” Can he make it any more obvious?

Ryan was about to say something back but then he seemed to stop, the wheels in his head screeching to halt. They rewound until he came back with an unexpected sentence, looking at Ray with an unplaceable emotion that looked a lot like hope mixed with whiplash, “Wait, you like me?”

“Wha- I- Well,” Ray sputtered, somehow growing redder in the face by the second. This was all going downhill so fast and the breaks were yet to be found, “Y-yeah, of course I do!”

“What do you mean ‘of course’, I didn’t know!” Ryan said – not angry, just, Ray doesn’t know, he supposes flustered? That’s definitely how Ray felt.

“W-well- Now you do! And I didn’t know you liked me, so there!” Great come back, Ray. You showed him.

“Yeah, well, now you do!” Ryan said, equally as eloquent and now crossing his own arms. He looked damn near a pout too.

Ray buried his head in his hands. How had this gone so bad so quickly. There it is, suddenly out in the open. He told Ryan he liked him. Now everything was definitely ruined. Their usual was definitely done forever effective immediately and he still didn’t even know the answer to the question he came in here for.

Somewhere deep in the recesses of Ray’s brain a miracle occurred. What was thought to be the last-remaining brain cell stumbled upon one of its own kind. Shocked by the discovery of one-another, they wasted no time in producing what was long regarded as an extinct species within the confines of Ray’s mind – a single coherent thought.

Ray looked up from his hands at Ryan, wracked by his revelation. “Wait…” Ray said, finally catching on, “Y-you like me?”

Ryan looked like he was about to start the cycle over again when he caught the look on Ray’s face and suddenly softened. Softened the way Ray couldn’t help but notice only ever happened around him. Could he actually…?

“Well, yeah,” Ryan said, and Ray had never seen a more earnest man in his entire life. “Of course I do.”

The chasm between them somehow crew deeper, yet Ray suddenly wanted nothing more than to cross it. There’s no way, though, no way he could have this.

His arms uncrossed themselves. He squeezed the edge of the desk.

“W-well, th-that’s good.” Ray fought to keep himself looking at Ryan as he spoke. Fear and trepidation and hope and yearning built his heart back up. “B-because I like you too.”

“Y-you do?” Ryan asked, and now ray couldn’t help but smile, because here they go again. Ryan being nervous made Ray calmer. You don’t get nervous over things you don’t mean.

“Yeah,” Ray said, his voice now soft. “Of course I do.”

There was a quite moment of silence, more in awe of the moment than anything else. They just watched each other, not knowing what to do.

Ryan rose from where he’d been sitting on the bed and suddenly the chasm collapsed into absolutely nothing and Ray was walking the three steps to him without even thinking about it. Ray’s arms found Ryan’s shoulders and Ryan’s hands found Ray’s face and they stood there a moment, looking at each other – so close, the way Ray’s wanted to be a billion times before. Could they really? Were they really allowed? No way, Ray was tempted to think, they don’t get fairy tales. Do they? Ryan’s blue eyes washed out those thoughts and left nothing behind but unmistakable want.

“Can I kiss you?” Ryan asked, the ghost of his whisper rolling over Ray’s lips and raising goosebumps.

It was so fast for them, neither liked to plunge headlong into things. Both needed things to be taken slowly.

And yet Ray felt like they’d already done that part. They already have gone slow. They already know each other. They already trust each other. Ray’s waited so long for this. Ray wondered if Ryan has waited for this. The look in his eyes says it all – yes.

Ray smiles. “Of course you can.” And then there isn’t a single inch between them.

 --

 Bonus content:

After making out for a bit the raspberries suddenly start and then someone starts tickling and they just end up collapsing in bed play-fighting and laughing and the L-O-V-E word is still very scary, but the looks in their eyes say what they mean.

[silyabeeodess]

FusionFall Writing Prompts: Oct. 2019, Prompt #2: Part 4

Part 3: https://silyabeeodess.tumblr.com/post/188285373604/fusionfall-writing-prompts-oct-2019-prompt-2

The cold pricked Silya’s bare arms as she stepped out of the research participants’ quarters, followed by the fellow victim.  Much to her ever-growing horror, they weren’t alone: A group of Fusion Fighters were gathered together outside—among them, her missing roommate.  She couldn’t tell whether there was more than one Ectonurite involved or if just one or a handful had split their DNA across the whole of group, but she could still tell each human present was possessed because of the cold, cruel smile shared between them.  

As they waited for more of their numbers to gather, some exiting the barracks and a few others coming from the outskirts of Tech Square—most likely the ones involved with the cut power—they remained clustered in the shadows.  She could see flashlights in the distance, hopefully from the still-free soldiers looking to restore order.  No one could call out to them though.  People twitched and spasmed, fighting for control over the ghosts only to soon lose it again.  

Held prisoner in her own subconscious, Silya raced through anything she knew about the alien species. Unfortunately, outside of a small collective of stories and basic facts, her knowledge was limited.  She wasn’t a Plumber, so that information had been glossed over during training.  In order to keep up an act of normalcy, however, it didn’t seem like the Ectonurites were exuding full control over anyone.  She could still think clearly and read her surroundings, so that in itself was a good sign.  From what she could tell, he would have to shut her mind down completely anyway for total control, so that could rule out the possibility of him reading her thoughts.

It meant she could try to come up with some kind of plan.  What were an Ectonurites weaknesses again?  Direct light? Well, they’d already taken care of the electricity and they were pretty much invincible anyway so long as they remained in their hosts.  If there was any chance at beating the ghosts, they would need to be cast out of their bodies first.  Just how though?

The whole of their forces soon gathered.  There was only around two or three dozen people around her, but almost every research participant who’d stayed for the experiments had tested the Ghostfreak transformation.  That meant any remainders were either out on-duty, guarding Tech-Square’s borders, or were off on some other errand for their puppetmasters.  A new worry bubbled up inside her: She imagined the controlled soldiers taking out their companions and letting a hoard of fusion monsters through the blockades.  

They split off into two smaller groups: One headed to Mandark Industries and the other—hers—to Dexlabs.  All at once, the humans around her started talking; light-hearted chatter Silya knew was fake because a lot of it was the same kind of dialogue she had heard and said herself over the course of the week.  Only, just as before, it wasn’t them: The Ectonurites were just feeding them used lines.

It fooled the four watchmen at the front doors though.  They only stopped the large group with a curious brow, asking to see one of their ID cards. Looking it over with a tactical flashlight, the guard grunted, “Looks like the power’s out all over.  Dex and the other nerds are already on the case though, if that’s what you’re here for.”

A girl’s eye twitched, the Ectonurite controlling her forcing out a sigh of relief, “It is.  We were worried if it was some kind of emergency. The lights just shot on their own while we were all hanging out in our rooms.  Anything we can do to help?”

“Not unless any of you are technicians.”

“Ah… Well, in any case, can you send someone over there?  The emergency lock went off in one of the buildings.  No one can get in or out.”

Here, the watchmen shared a glance, and for a second Silya thought they might pick up that something was wrong.  Although the front doors of each of the barracks were electric, everyone who stationed at Tech Square regularly knew how to access the manual controls—not to mention most of them weren’t averse to just making their own exits if they had to. She thought she could signal them, fighting to regain control of her arm only for her other hand to swiftly grab it and pull it behind her back in a false, nervous stretch.

They didn’t notice anything. After a minute’s debate, two of the guards jogged away to the barracks, leaving the group standing with the final pair. The girl turned to them once again, “We were also thinking we could take advantage of the darkness.  We’ve all got our Spinal-ARCHs and there’s not much else to do, so we thought some extra training might be good.”

The same guard as before shook his head.  “Sorry, can’t even let you in to grab your gear.  Orders from up-top: Dex doesn’t want anyone wandering through the building without his authorization until the power’s back.”

“I think you’ll find that we answer to a higher authority.”

The young woman saw it coming, but her mouth was bound shut.  From around the edge of the facility, two large figures—sure enough, another two possessed research participants—darted from the shadows and struck the guards from behind.  Before either could cry out in shock, they were gagged and beaten: One struck in the neck and the other thrown against the wall until he was rendered senseless. Both collapsed, unconscious, and were dragged away in the same minute after one of their attackers tossed another Ectonurite a pair of keys.  Said alien quickly began to fiddle with a manual control hatch alongside the doors, the others keeping watch.

Eventually, someone managed to fight for control enough to collapse to the ground with a pained grunt, hands knotting through their hair as they stammered out a question bitterly, “W-what’sss… even about?!  Sabotage? You c-can’t!  Labs’ locked down.”

They had a point. Getting into the building itself was one thing, but any of the actual labs would be shut down by double or triple encoded locks that only Dexter or his team of scientists would know how to access. The research participants were only allowed so far in, and if they were caught anywhere else—whether or not anyone inside knew the full situation—they would be taken into custody.  The same standard applied over at Mandark’s—if they weren’t even more severe.  The Ectonurites’ puppeteering was pretty much useless from this point forward.

One of ghosts gave a jeering laugh from a young man’s body, “We’re not as contained as you would wish.  We only need you to get inside and use as cover.” As if to illustrate, he partially summoned one of the Ghostfreak tendrils, waved it, then quickly dispersed it. “Your employers may experiment on you all they like, but I doubt they would purposefully harm their prized lab rats.”

“That’s right,” nodded the one at the door, which made a faint click as it unlocked.  The Ectonurite pulled it open, motioning the others in with a mocking gesture.  “And if you’re lucky, maybe a few of them will trade themselves over for your sakes.  It wouldn’t be as fun, but I’m sure Lord Fuse would reward us well if we brought him a few of Earth’s finest minds as souvenirs.”  

The very idea of being used as a hostage made Silya want to curse.  For a second, she was able to push her will enough to curl her hands into fists at her side, even as she marched past the door with the others.  Beyond the faint light shining behind them, they were soon swallowed by darkness; however, the ghosts possessing them didn’t seem to mind—even when they still had to use their human eyes to get by.  Unlike during the day, the halls were bleak and empty, the metal walls somehow less pristine and more cold than usual.

It also seemed that the Ectonurites had memorized the way through the building, at least in the areas that the research participants regulated, hinting that they may have been secretly monitoring everything from the humans’ subconscious ever since their DNA had been accessed through the Spinal-ARCHs.  They passed the main lobby, the waiting areas, and the gyms, heading deeper through the winding halls to the silent areas few of them had ever explored without escort.

Soon enough, the group began to split off on their own investigations.  Two of them stopped in front of one door that Silya had never gone through.  She was forced to watch, disgusted, as one of the Ectonurites ripped out a girl’s body, her struggled cry muffed by a clawed hand before one of the other research participants—still possessed—gripped her from behind.  Not that she could wrestle away easily, given the way she leaned forward in exhaustion when the ghost finally broke free.  Fading it, slipped through the door, its host still bound and waiting for its return.

A light, a light… Silya panicked.  If she could just find something, anything to use against the spirit possessing her, she could try to attack him as soon as he snapped out of her body.  For a second, her mind angrily went to Dexter and his denial of all magical elements in favor of ‘real’ science.  Maybe if he wasn’t so quick to dismiss them, he’d have something useful on hand that didn’t have to be plugged into an outlet!  Maybe—!

She froze.  Magic… She had a magical being strapped right at her hip, Aoi!  He was a Demongo nano: His demon fire could burn anything right down to the soul!  

The idea came upon her so suddenly and terror reared its ugly head so much that the Ectonurite controlling her wasn’t prepared when she shot her hand out a second time with a loud, vicious scream.  He muffled her fast, her side thrown against the wall hard enough for her to see stars, but she had already ripped Aoi’s nanochip off of her built.  It went flying from her grasp, scuttling across the floor, and with a burst of blue light her familiar companion appeared in front of her eyes—confusion in his own gaze when he looked around to see just where they were and why she had jarred him awake.  Seeing her dazed on the floor, he tried to approach, but soon halted when Ghostfreak tendrils shot out from her back.

Bracing herself against the ground, shaking as she fought to rear the ghost inside her in, she fumbled for words.  They came out as a broken, sibilant whisper before she could manage to get out a soft, “Fire…”  Again, she cried out, louder even as it felt like the Ectonurite was seeking his claws into her throat and the tendrils twisted menacingly around her, “M-me…. Use you’re f-fire on me!”

It wasn’t an expression she was used to seeing, but a child’s fear lit in his stare at her order, “Silya—?!”

“Now, Aoi!” she gagged.  She was losing it!  Her vision was already beginning to cloud over and she could feel the Ectonurite regaining power over her limbs, limply pulling her off the floor.  He was taking full control!

But not long after darkness shrouded her completely, everything seemed to erupt in a cerulean light. Flames danced before her mind’s eye, tracing every inch of her body.  It hurt a lot—like nothing she’d ever experienced, even compared to the intense burns she’d get from overexposure to fusion matter.  However, when she heard a scream, it wasn’t her own.  For everything she felt, the Ectonurite was bound to feel it tenfold.  

She collapsed again. She couldn’t see.  She couldn’t move.  All she felt was the cold floor under her and all she heard was a loud ringing in her ears.  For a moment, she wondered if she died for real, Aoi’s powers somehow distorting whatever hold Grim’s magic had over her to connect her lifeforce to his Resurrect ‘Ems.  

Slowly though, the world began to piece itself back into existence.  She was in the same hall.  It was still dark.  And there was Aoi, hovering over her with a terrified expression on his face and his hands still held out in front of him from his attack.  She wanted to smile at him—the blasted demon-child that spent most of his time trying to get on her nerves.  She couldn’t though: She was too weak and beyond him she could see blurred figures racing onto the scene.  She had to warn him.

“Ghostfreaks, they’ve—” Silya huffled, struggling even with that small effort.  Not only was she still in pain, she couldn’t believe how tired she felt. “No time... Free the others, Aoi.  Burn those freaks to a crisp!”

It was hard to breath and things started to get dark and hazy again.  The little Demongo clone opened his mouth to demand answers, but was interrupted by the sound of feet hurrying toward them.  He jerked his head around as two more lights—red and yellow—spiraled off of her belt in near unison to join him at his side.

And then Silya’s mind slipped away.    

END OF PART FOUR

Part 5 (END): https://silyabeeodess.tumblr.com/post/188674258524/fusionfall-writing-prompts-oct-2019-prompt-2

[percywinchester27]

Unconventional Roommates (Part-9)

Word count: 3.1K

Pairing: Dean X Reader

Warnings: Fluff mostly :)

Series Summary: Now that his brother is at Stanford, for the first time in his life, Dean does something for himself. He takes a step towards chasing his own dreams and moves away from Lawrence to start college, which is both thrilling and scary at the same time. Only catch, in this unknown town, he is stuck with the MOST infuriating female on the planet- the roommate from hell!

A/N: I can’t put into words what all your love for the series means to me. Thank you so much guys <3

Thanks to the loveliest @deanssweetheart23 for being my beta on this one. You are the absolute best and I love you so much <3

Unconventional Roommates masterlist

As he watched her sleeping form, Dean was absolutely certain of two things. One, he had to find out what had happened to her. Not secretly, but rather, he'd wait for as long as it took for her to trust him enough to tell him herself and willingly.

And second, that he wasn't just in danger of falling for her anymore. He knew it with absolute certainty, felt it in his gut, saw it even behind closed lids that he already had and now, there was no going back from it.

It tickled him pleasantly. That's what woke Dean up, and the moment he opened his eyes, a flurry of hair fell into his eyes. He sat up quickly, his head spinning a little because of the suddenness.

At first, he felt disoriented, barely recognizing where he was. This wasn't his room in Lawrence. Then it came back to him- too quickly, but also not quickly enough. All of the past month and then every minute of last night, the closeness, her smile, her scent… all of it. His stomach dropped and he whipped his head towards her.

Y/N was lying on her stomach, her head turned towards him and her hair splayed around her wildly as if she was swathed in it. The blanket was drawn up till her waist and her turtleneck was hitched up by just a couple of inches.

He forgot how to breathe.

Dean knew he was screwed, mostly because he couldn't stop looking at her. Couldn't stop looking at the little pout she probably didn't even know her lips made. Couldn't stop staring at the little frown lines. God knew what dream was making her worry even in her sleep, but he wanted more than anything to kiss those lines on her forehead. But he also wanted to kick himself or maybe laugh at the tragedy of the whole situation. What in the name of hell had made him fall for the one girl who did not want him back? Why had he been so stupid?

But truth be told, even in his heart he knew that he'd never really had any control over it. Looking back, every little thing that had happened between them had just pushed him towards her.

Just as he was pondering over how painful living with this feeling was going to be, with her right next to him under the same roof, the doorbell rang, making him jump.

"What the hell?" he muttered, confused, getting up hurriedly so as to not wake Y/N up.

As he made his way towards the door, the bell rang again.

"Coming!" He called, already pissed at whoever it was.

The bell rang once more just when his fingers found the door knob.

"It's a fucking Sunda-… Sam?"

Sam stood grinning widely at the door, hands deep in his jeans pocket and a bag slung over his shoulders. "Good morning, Sunshine," he smirked.

"What're you doing here?" Dean asked, shocked.

"It's great to see you, too," Sam said, walking past him and into the living room. Dean watched as his brother's eyes roamed around the apartment, taking in every detail and then finally landing on the red door.

"That's the serial killer chick's room, right?" Sam pointed out.

Dean had the weirdest urge to defend Y/N. "She's not a serial killer."

"It's not what you told me the last time."

Dean ignored his question, shut the door and walked up to his brother.

"But what're you doing here?"

Sam had another hyper excited grin for him. "So, I thought since you came to see me last time, I could surprise you this time. It was Jess' idea." His face fell slightly when Dean's eyes still only reflected shock. "I thought it'd make you happy."

Dean was quick to reassure. "Of course I'm happy, Sammy. I just didn't expect you is all."

That was enough to satisfy Sam. He turned to face the other door. "Is that your room?"

Before Sam could ask to check it out, Dean quickly pushed him to the sofa on which he plopped down unassumingly.

"Dean?" Y/N's voice called out to him from inside. "Is everything okay?"

Sam's head whipped around at what would be closed to the speed of light and Dean closed his eyes. He didn't need to see his brother's face to know what Sam's reaction was going to be when Y/N walked out of his room. He'd have that classic Sam Winchester shit eating grin.

She was still groggy, rubbing her eyes, her full lips popping into a small 'O' as she yawned. The beanie was back on her head, even though lopsided. All that vanished the moment she saw Sam. Her stance morphed into one that was defensive- she drew herself straight, chin jutting out and her eyes became as distrusting as ever.

Sam paled.

"Y/N-" Dean reached out, ready to jump in between if she decided to launch a physical attack of any sort, but then something changed, her eyes became round and suddenly she dropped the posture.

"You're Sam," she said blankly.

Sam got up slowly, carefully. His hands itched at his side, like he was controlling the urge to raise them over his head. Dean had to bite back a chuckle.

Y/N smiled, a small but real smile. "I saw your picture by Dean's bed."

Sam gave Dean a knowing side eye and he wanted to groan. What made it worse was that, despite Sam's assumptions about what Y/N was doing anywhere near Dean's bed, it wasn't that way at all. And God, did Dean wanted it to be that way. He wanted all of Sam's assumptions to be true… so much that he didn't know whether to cry or laugh about it.

"Uhhh… you guys want coffee or something?" She asked, awkwardly, completely ignorant to what had passed silently between the brothers.

"Sure, that would be great," Sam said.

Once she had moved to the kitchen and both of them were seated, Sam turned to Dean with a supremely smug expression. "So!"

"So?" Dean had to control the urge to roll his eyes.

"It's not like that, huh?" Sam said, quoting him from the other night.

"Shhhh…" Dean whispered, throwing a look towards Y/N, making sure that she was out of earshot. "It really isn't like that."

"She just walked out of your bedroom, dude," Sam contradicted, also whispering.

Dean drew a deep breath to calm himself some. "We went out to the fair last night."

"Just the two of you?"

"Yeah!" Dean realized that everything he said was just gonna make it worse, but he tried anyway. "I had to click pictures for the paper and I just asked her to tag along, that's all. She was so tired after an evening of me dragging her around, that she passed out on my bed. I slept on the floor."

Sam gave him a penetrating look, one that Dean was too used to. That was the look he'd get every time he had skipped his dinner and worked overtime, when he'd stayed up late when Sam was studying for SATs. Dean would make up some crap reason, and Sam would call him out on his bullshit. Every time.

It was Sam seeing right through him.

"Here!" Y/N placed the two cups on the table, effectively breaking the hushed conversation.

"I don't know what you guys like," she shrugged apologetically, "So I just made it my way."

"That's alright," Dean was quick to reassure her. "You didn't have to do it."

"It's okay."

Not knowing what else to say, he sipped from his mug. The coffee was surprisingly good.

He looked up to tell her that but the words died on his lips, for Y/N was drinking deeply out of her own mug, eyes closed and a soft smile on her lips. So lost was she, that she was barely aware that he was watching her. Sometimes, a drop would remain on the rim of the mug and her bottom lip would drag along the edge, tongue peeking out quickly to catch it before it rolled down the side.

Dean was mesmerized.

Sam cleared his throat loudly, and Dean fumbled a little with his mug.

"Uhh… the coffee is amazing, Y/N," he said, trying to somehow hide the warmth he was feeling in his cheeks now.

"Yeah, it's pretty great," Sam agreed. "I must say, this is the first time I've seen Dean drink something other than black coffee, let alone like it."

Dean stamped on his brother's foot behind the coffee table and Sam had to pass his wince as a cough.  

Having Sam anywhere close to Y/N wasn't going to fare well for him. Dean got up quickly. "How about I show you around the Campus? I know it's an off day, but that's even better, right? Less crowd."

Before Sam could object, Dean rushed back to his room, closing the door behind him.

What an utter mess! The two people that consumed most of his thoughts were now sitting outside while his heart was trying to beat its way out of his chest. Sam was his responsibility, a part of his identity. His life had revolved around that nerd kid for as long as he could remember… but his world was realigning now. Wasn't changing its orbit, no. It was tilting it's axis, so that Y/N was always there, wherever his thoughts might turn.

He dressed hurriedly, throwing on the first thing that he could find in his closet and then rushed out to the living room.

There, Y/N was laughing at something Sam said. Not smiling, not smirking. She was actually laughing. Sam was in the middle of an animated story with his face stuck on an expression that seemed honestly appalled.

"… What did you expect me to do? Of course I told him to go screw himself," Sam concluded, as if what he did was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Damn right," Y/N agreed. "He should have treated you better than that."

"Honestly, anyone who'd call me an orphan is an ignorant douche bag. I never was one, because I always had Dean. Always."

Y/N nodded vehemently. The conversation had gone from funny to intense in a minute flat.

Dean coughed loudly and the dialogue came to a halt, both of them turning to the sound of his footsteps.

"Ready to go?"

"Yeah!" Sam jumped right up, then turned to her. "It was great meeting you, Y/N," he said earnestly.

"I can say the same," she smiled. "Don't forget about Thanksgiving. We have a date."

Date? What?

"Of course. I'll bring Jess around the next time, she'd love to meet you."

They shook hands and then Sam followed Dean out of the apartment.

All the time that it took to get to the University, Dean couldn't help but wonder how the hell had Sam managed to break Y/N in 10 minutes flat? In the time that it took Dean to change out of his clothes they had gone from Jess to Dean to an invitation for Thanksgiving dinner. It had taken Dean more than a month to get Y/N to be civil to him.

He felt both curious and annoyed by it. What had Sam done? Maybe he just gave her his big puppy dog eyes and Y/N melted like putty, because no one in Dean's living memory had managed to beat the puppy dog eyes of doom. Secret agent or not, Y/N was only human. So she lost.

At the University, Dean tried to be as extensive as Sam had been about Stanford, but in reality, he didn't know much about the place. He still took his brother around to the Mech Lab, Workshops, Paper's office and the Quadrangle. Sam seemed lost in the beautiful architecture. According to him, colleges on the west coast were far more beautiful than those on the east coast. The east just seemed far more clinical, while the west had a sort of character, something personal about how the buildings stretched out in endless sandstone.

Dean thought Sam was biased, but all in all, it was great to show Sam around, mostly cause the kid had questions to ask about everything, from how the labs worked to all his lectures. What really got to Dean was the way Sam walked with his chest puffed out, not unlike a proud mom. It was only towards the end that Dean realized that Sam's obvious superior, almost arrogant strut was because of Dean. Sam was proud of him. It made Dean go all quiet for a moment.

He was sure to take Sam around to see Cas, who was delighted to see him, and then to the Autobody shop. Bobby was pretty impressed to see the Pre-law from Stanford and it was Dean's turn to be proud, because, despite what he had achieved, Sam was nothing if not humble. He had a rare sense of empathy that could touch the coldest of hearts. Maybe that's what got to Y/N.

When it was past afternoon, Sam slung his bag back on his shoulders, his face resigned. It was time to go.

"Are we never going to talk about it?" Sam asked.

"Talk about what?" Dean knew what.

Sam sighed. "Y/N, Dean. Are we ignoring the fact that you're hopelessly in love with her?"

His stomach dropped. "Uhhgg… What?"

Sam gave him a very pronounced disbelieving look that seemed to ask, 'Seriously?'

"It's not like that, Sam." It slipped out before he could even think it through. Dean had said it so many times, that it almost sounded true now. Almost.

"If that's how you're going to do it, then let's drive right back to your place," Sam said, "Let's pick your camera and develop that negative roll. I'm willing to bet my ass that more than half the pictures are of that girl."

"Am I wrong?" He asked again, when Dean didn't say anything.

Then his expression softened. "I'm not going to drag it out of you, Dean. You can tell me to butt out cause it's none of my business, but don't you think you've earned the right to be happy?"

Dean didn't reply to that either, instead, he asked Sam the question he'd been dying to know the answer to. "How did you get her open up to you so soon? I mean, I know you do your cute guy thing, but she's so removed from everyone all the time. How did you get her to laugh like that?"

Sam scoffed, but it wasn't mean in any way, more like he thought Dean's question was cute. Like he was merely indulging Dean when he answered the question.

"To get her to open up," Sam said slowly, deliberately, "All I had to do was say your name, Dean. I did nothing, you did. Even when you weren't in the same room."

Whoa!

Maybe his face showed the shock, maybe it didn't, but Sam laughed gently. "She's pretty awesome actually. She has a degree in political science and economics."

"But really," Sam continued, when Dean said nothing. "Her face just lit up when I mentioned your name. She loves you, dumbass! I don't know how you can't see it."

Again, Dean was too stunned to reply. It wasn't possible. Sam was just seeing what he wanted to see. There was no truth there whatsoever.

Sam smiled, a small, knowing smile, as if he could read exactly what was going through Dean's head. "Think what you want, but you'll see it soon enough for yourself."

"Since when did you become such an expert on love?"

Sam shrugged. "Well, I can't help but not see that she cares for you. I suffer from the same affliction."

A deliberate wink.

Dean laughed. "College is turning you into one of those bogus fair philosophers, Sam. C'mere."

Sam went in willingly enough, engulfing Dean in a bear hug. It seemed like he had been a clingy kid just yesterday. When did he grow up enough to preach life lessons?

When his bus rolled in front of the bus stop, Sam climbed in with one last smile. "Just think about what I said okay? You deserve this. All of it."

Dean sat at the bus long after Sam had left, staring at the winding road ahead of him, his head buzzing with all sorts of thoughts. Ones that he wanted to have, others not so much. But the thoughts that tormented him the most were the ones that he barely dared to believe. What if Sam was right? It wasn't like him to give false hope. What if there was even the slightest possibly that Y/N felt the same towards him? Even if just a little bit?

The idea scared him to bits, because liking her was one thing. At worst, it would be painful if she never returned the feelings. He'd yearn for her and living under the same roof, burning in the agony of unrequited love would be a torture of its own. But the alternative where she actually returned his feelings and then he disappointed her like every other godforsaken person in his life, what would be left then? How the hell was he supposed to live with that?

Then there was also her past. Dean had guessed enough to know that it was something fucked up. She didn't seem too willing to elaborate on the other Ex, but something told Dean that it went way back, because if there was one thing he recognized, it was family issues. She'd probably had a hard and messy childhood. Y/N was barely starting to come out of her shell, open up to him… if he did something wrong now, he would end up hurting her in ways that might not even be repairable. God forbid if she never trusted anyone else after that.

Dean put his head in his hands, finally taking his eyes off the setting sun. This was not how he had imagined his life to be when he'd moved into the town. He'd rather do Zach's assignment another 10 times than deal with this overwhelming feeling building in his chest. But try as he might, he couldn't forget the feel of her body pressed against his, the way she had reached out to him and asked him to not go. He couldn't suppress the desperate urge to press his lips to her. Dean wanted to know how she tasted, he wondered if she would lick his lips just like she licked the mug of coffee to catch that stray drop.

It raised goosebumps on his skin just thinking about it.

When the sun had completely disappeared behind the horizon, he got up from the bench, finally making his way back to his car. And despite his own internal conflict, Dean couldn't help hoping against hope that for this once, Sam was right.

*******************************

A/N 2: You think Dean will act on his feelings, now that he’s finally accepted them?

Also, how do you like Sam in this series? Am I writing him in character?

A/N 3: Please do consider reblogging my work and leaving feedback. Reblogging helps spread it, and also helps against the “best posts first” option tumblr has. The more the notes, the less chance of it getting buried beneath others posts. And the comments are what keep me going. I love you guys and I’ll be in forever grateful <3

The taglist for this series is CLOSED!

However, here’s my side blog @percywinchester27-writes. You can give that blog a follow and turn the notifications on to know about updates.

UR taglist:

@deanssweetheart23  @captainradicalpassion  @docharleythegeekqueen  @sleepless-sin    @mrsdeanfuckingwinchester  @ohgodwhybloggg  @roxyspearing  @oneshoeshort  @theofficialduke  @wildlandfox  @mrswhozeewhatsis  @emoryhemsworth  @dslocum89  @justacinnamonroll  @fanfreak07  @dustycelt  @serienjunkiegirl   @thinkwritexpress-official  @babykalika2001  @daskleinevolk  @jayankles  @blacktithe7  @pensysto  @iyannamckague  @shamelesslydean  @crystallstaircase  @melonberri  @commander-meghan-shepard  @trenchcoat-angel  @smiling-meerkat  @sprnaturallover  @violinbetty  @fandom-trash-worth-it  @grace-for-sale  @katsanders  @samwinchesterfanfic  @bluestarshining  @torn-and-frayed  @adaliamalfoy  @anathewierdo  @gabavaldman  @brindz30  @heavymetalhauswife  @sdavid09  @hatemeup  @plaidstiel-wormstache  @deannawinchesterpie  @kit-kat-katie99  @jessieray98  @mlovesstories  @thing-you-do-with-that-thing   @directionernullneun  @yoursmilemakesmeloveyou  @theoriginalvicki  @angelessquirrel  @thereisnolumos  @julie121899  @mikid2000  @freekryptonitecloud  @padasteph-nie  @luna-plena-venandi  @tiffy119  @linki-locks11  @mirandaaustin93  @pjofangirl18  @hunterswearingplaid  @cookiechipdough  @superlock-on-pc   @daughterleftbehind  @abumbling-bee  @savanna1899  @imweirdandobsessed  @emilycollins11  @diariesofthebeautyobsessed  @bakabozza  @imascio08  @luvspnandphan  @stormisamystery  @atc74  @aiaranradnay  @bellastellaluna  @deansgirl215  @xristina-gkika  @almostelegantfire @infinity-dreamchaser  @roonyxx  @ericaprice2008  @akshi8278  @shellydemon @ceisbill  @alwaysdreamingforthebest

[thedreaminus]

Rebels

ff.net | A03

Summary: When the Union gets problems in its own ranks. A Noblesse AU about the Trio.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7

There was a time when he had felt something like sympathy for the nobles. But this was now completely destroyed. Literally. These crazy bastards! One would think that they were reasonable enough to develop a battle plan. After all, they had just received the data yesterday. They only knew about the 9th Elders lab since yesterday. Total less than 24 hours. Why, then, they were just about to take apart the entire lab? Finishing his inner, cursed dialogue, M-21 saved himself with a bold plunge from a particularly large piece of the falling ceiling, which cheerfully crushed two scientists in his place. The gray-haired man casted only a glance behind him.

Without pity.

All around, the chaos prevailed and relatively little attention was paid to it. M-21 was just fine with it. A few minutes ago, he was near a scientist who was about to snap. Or was already crazy. And she was certainly not human. Ignes Kravei a fucking Noble Scientist! This bitch had nothing better to do than shout at the soldiers and throw one of them against the wall with such force, that M-21 did not have to hear the noise to know that this soldier wasn’t good for nothing anymore. After that, she still clamoured a bit, biting her nails nervously, a strange sparkle in her eyes.

M-21 thought it was healthier not to get in her way. Kravei was one of the Union's leading scientists. The person responsible when it came to experiments on Nobles and completely out of her mind. Right now the last person M-21 wanted to have near him.

But she smelled like blood.

In his ear, Tao's voice urged him to pick up his legs and disappear. A really good idea. The attack was only after M-21 had joined the new system with the responsible IT members. These people were long dead and even if they did not, they would not have anything to report. Kravei's data and that of the facility was secure on the secret server, far from the Union's access. The rest was just deleted or encrypted by a virus. Rendered useless. No reason to stay here any longer.

Nevertheless, M-21 ran in the opposite direction, deeper and deeper into the interior of the lab, listening to Tao's panicky voice.

"M! Get your ass out of there! What are you doing?!" The gray-haired man hissed and resisted the urge to slap his hand over his ear. The two DA-5 members were probably following each one of his steps. Again and again M-21 could hear the whirring of cameras focusing on him. M-21 glanced around without slowing down. No one to see. Nobody to notice. Good. "Even louder Tao and I'm going deaf," he whispered into the empty air that popped past him. There was no answer. Just when M-21 wondered if the microphone was perhaps too quiet, the hacker shouted at him through the transmitter. M-21 believed he was going to go deaf for real this time.

"What are you doing?!" Tao's voice was almost over hysteria. M-21 felt a little bit of pride in disconcerting Tao that way. Nearly. "Even longer and you are dead! If you can not find the exit ... It's BEHIND YOU!"

"Tao calm down," Takeo now carefully interjected. Apparently, the hacker was just not good at kidding.

"Kravei," M-21 used the name like a swearword. "She smelled like blood." At the other end of the line it became quiet. M-21 heard Tao discussing it with Takeo. Both agreed that they had no idea what exactly M-21 meant by that. "That's ... fascinating M, but she's a scientist," it was Takeo who answered him. Perhaps Tao had to cool down. "She's probably been working on an experiment. Why does that stop you from leaving the lab? "

"I ... I thought the smell was familiar." M-21 stopped in front of an exit. The passage was split in two directions. "Somehow I think it comes from the dwarf."

"Holy Shi ... M-21 are you following the scent of blood?"

"Yes," snapped M-21 with a renewed burst of panic. The gray-haired took a deep breath - which, of course, the other two did not miss - and turned right. One more sign that his body was happily mutating and that he damn well did not know why. M-21 resisted the urge to cry out in frustration, forcing himself instead to trust his new ability and follow the invisible trail that opened for him.

"Ok, ok," Tao switched on again. "Easy, I have you on the screen now M-21. It's good that the new chip works fine, eh?" The hacker spoke in a calm, almost easy voice to him, which irritated M-21 in better times let alone now. But he was exactly right. As he continued to roam through the dark corridors, he let the gentle voices of his comrades work on him to become clear again. After all, it was not the first, and probably not the last time, that M-21 or either of the other two noticed something which went far beyond his actual abilities. No reason to get so upset.

That's what M-21 said to himself as he listened to Tao's gentle and sober voice that accompanied him through the dark corridors to a door. The smell became so intense that M-21 had to choke involuntarily. Immediately he heard Tao and Takeo getting restless and he raised his hand to appease them.

"No matter what you find in it now M-21, please try to disappear afterwards. The lab is just being dismantled," as if to confirm a quake went through the corridors.

"Tao, what's that?" Takeo's voice sounded irritated.

"How should I know that," the hacker answers nervously. "M-21 this is a private section of Ignes Kravei. Her own laboratory. I need a moment to unlock the door."

"What's happening?"

"On the surface there was a fight," answered Takeo. "There seem to be some Nobles, but ...," the sniper paused and took a deep breath. "Damn Tao did you see that?" He asked. Tao answers silently, at least M-21 could not understand what he said, but the sound of a heavily used keyboard became even more intense. "I think that includes the strangers who watched the boy and ... some of these Nobles do not look like Nobles. Tao look ... "

"That does not matter now!" The hacker sounded grumpy. "If M-21 meets them, he's as good as dead. Do you understand me M-21?! So look what you have to see and then disappear. The door is open."

Said door gave a click itself. M-21, who inwardly agreed with Tao, opened the door and entered. The little lab was dark and empty. But the smell of blood struck M-21 in the middle of the face, causing the man to stumble for a moment. He had to hold on to the lab bench. The sight of the used utensils on it not imrpve his mood. Also, the sight of him offered, when he raised his eyes, was far from better.

"What is it? I do not have a camera here."

"It's the fucking brat," hissed M-21, resisting the urge to beat said Nobles in his unconscious face. The boy was hanging in the middle. Next to him the girl, whom he had saved only a few months ago at the risk of his own damn ass. To top it off, there was another wretch next door and and bleeding his life out. "Fucking, stupid brat!"

"M-21"

"They're hanging on the wall," spat M-21, too mad to worry about his discomfort any longer. "The runt, his sister and another stupid brat. Looks like Kravei had fun with them."

"Um, look for a way to connect your chip. Then I can hack into the room. If the shackles are for Nobles you will not get them open." Tao tried to keep a clear head and waited patiently until M-21 connected to the only computer in the room. The gray-haired man crossed his arms over his chest and glared at the battered bodies in front of him.

"Why don’t I just leave them here?"

"That's tough M-21," sighed Takeo.

"Oh?" Growled M-21 angrily. "These brat want to die anyway. Besides, their parents are probably already here."

"Yes, and Kravei is on his way to you too."

"..."

M-21 stared at the wall. "Tao, why didn‘t you say that earlier?"

"I did not want to panic you, haha."

With a click, the shackles of the children opened and everyone clapped on the floor in front of him. The boys face-first. Strangely enough, the girl sank elegantly to her knees and then fell to one side.

"I will kill you Tao!"

-.-.-.-.-

To carry three unconscious person out of the lab was not that easy. Two under each arm and the brat on the back, somehow lashed with ropes and straps. At the same time, Takeo had spoken with angelic patience to M-21, to convince him not to drag the boy behind him. Still, M-21 cursed the boy as he ran back through the countless and endless corridors. This time, led by Tao and not by his nose.

"Uh, Ignes Kravei has just discovered that her lab is empty and ...," Tao paused as a huge explosion echoed through the empty corridors. "And Sector 13 and 14 have just collapsed." "Wonderful," gasped M-21 and continued to pant. The weight he carried with him was slowly getting more noticeable. Knowing that an angry scientist might be right behind him did not make it any better. "Where to?"

"To the surface, of course. There is a load shaft leading upwards. Outside the fights. Well, on the edge of it. Hopefully far enough away that you can drop the kids and disappear. On this page, the Nobles have the control. So you should hurry up a bit." "Hey, Tao, look," Takeo said breathlessly. The two fell silent for a moment. M-21 pricked up his ears. He heard Tao curse. "These are soldiers, M-21 faster!"

"Oh please," the gray-haired man snorted. In front of him, the corridor opened and he could see the shaft Tao had described to him. M-21 braked, threw his head up and frantically searched for the exit. Far above he thought he saw something like a light, but that could also be his imagination. He tensed to jump, well aware that this distance was a challenge for his modification. He jumped, heard from the corridors the sound of footsteps approaching far too fast, and knew that these soldiers were many times faster than him.

M-21 barely caught the overhang. The weight of the dwarf almost pulled him down again. Tao and Takeo talking hectically in his ear did not make it any better. Suddenly there was a loud bang. The blast hit M-21 unprepared and shuddered him forward to the ground. The ground shook with the force of the explosion and a cloud of debris darted out of the shaft M-21 had just left. The gray-haired man blinked and gasped for breath as his head turned and he felt he was not getting enough air. With ringing ears, he tried to straighten up, holding onto the wall. The two children were in the corridor, he must have dropped them.

There was a fine layer of dust on their bodies.

The weight on his back, which repeatedly pulled him to the side confirmed at least that he had not lost the dwarf. M-21 stumbled to the children and picked them up again. He threw a dazed gaze behind him. The shaft was badly damaged. Deep cracks spread over the ceiling and floor, part of the right wall seemed to have collapsed. In the rubble, M-21 thought he saw a metallic, twitching arm sticking on whose forearm a blade protruded. The arm was still moving. M-21 moved forward. Not keen to know to whom the arm belonged.

Later, the gray-haired could not say exactly how he managed to find the exit and escape from the laboratory. His head was still turning and his right leg did not quite want to obey. Again and again M-21 broke in and had to recover. Only gradually his head became clearer and the pain obvious. The collapse of the shaft might have saved his life. No, it had certainly saved his life. His right leg was literally slit open by a long, deep cut. Sign that someone had tried to carved it. He had not even seen the blow coming.

M-21 was too well trained not to know that his body was pumped full with hormones that made him keep running. He knew just as well that it would not last long. Modified humans had their adrenaline distributions under control. Waste like him, didn’t. From experience, M-21 knew how long it would be before it would end. He slashed the heavy door that awaited him in the end and dragged himself outside.

"Krrr ... M ... are you listening?" Tao's voice came from the transmitter as soon as he got outside. The gray-haired man sighed with relief.

"Tao," he muttered, noting how his voice shook. Did he also have a shock? This day was getting better by the minute. "I have a problem."

"Alright, I thought so. After the explosion and the signal interference. I had to switch to a different frequency. We really thought Kravei had caught you. She followed the soldiers shortly after we discovered them. She must have been right behind you!"

"Ah," M-21 staggered. He could no longer hold on to the boy, and the child dropped to the floor with a rude sound. Blood dripped to the floor over his right arm. Another wound he had not noticed. "I have to get out of here," M-21 reached for the child but his fingers felt numb and he just managed to grab the boy by the remains of his clothes. He had to go through. They all had to go through there now. M-21 could not tell where he had been hit, or how much blood he had lost.

"M-21? What's happening? What was that?"

"Tell me ... the children. Can I ... leave them here?" He dragged the kids to a rock that hopefully offered some privacy. His thoughts were working alarmingly slowly.

"Uh, sure. Should you even. There are a few people very close to you and even on the way. Say: You should leave. What is the problem? Apart from the obvious ones."

M-21 severed the ropes and dropped the damned dwarf, who had all heaped upon him, to the ground. The boy was still alive, or at least the gray-haired suspected that strongly. Otherwise he could not change anything now. He had tried to save the child's life, he was unable to do more. At the moment, he did not even know if he would manage to get away from here. "I need ... a short way." He straightened, leaving small puddles full of blood. "Something got me ..." M-21 staggered as he turned.

"Stay West," Tao's voice sounded worried. "Can you do it?"

M-21 owed him the answer.

-.-.-.-.-

M-21 woke at the moment when a door opened. The gray-haired needed a few minutes to orient himself. Everywhere stood boxes, scrap metal and the remains of old pieces of furniture. His brain was lazily trying to figure out where he was, how he came here, and the fact that he felt like shit. Darkly he remembered how Takeo had dragged him back to the base. Consequently, this would have to be the storeroom in the lower basement and from this, M-21 quickly concluded that something was wrong. The person who had entered the room did not seem to be aware of his presence. He heard like he, it was definitely a man, moved some boxes. Apparently looking for something. A little later, the steps moved away, a door was closed and the lights turned off.

The gray-haired took a deep breath and tried to sit up after making sure that he was truly alone. His right half of the body was reacting extremely indignant. His arm was almost numb and his throat completely dry. A quick glance was enough to see that he had been makeshift and rushed to treat his wounds. M-21 stifled a groan as he leaned against a box and took a deep breath. This little movement was enough for him. He felt drained and even lousier than when Shark and Hammer had bothered him. The gray-haired man gently fingered the bandages and cursed as the moisture on his fingers remained stuck. Something was wrong and not only about the wounds. Why was he really hiding here? "I'm awake," murmured softly, waiting for an answer. Hopefully the microphone was activated.

The minutes passed until the door to the storeroom opened again. Footsteps came closer and Tao poked his head through the gap between two boxes. The hacker struggled to grin on the strained face as his eyes fell on M-21. A little later Takeo and he had come to him with difficulty and had taken place on the boxes.

"What happened?" M-21 had to clear his throat. His voice sounded like emery paper.

"Good morning to you M-21," Tao greeted him tightly and Takeo threw him a bottle of water. M-21 caught the bottle and opened it. "Nice to see you survived, although we had a little doubt about that." Takeo nodded in agreement. The gray-haired man just snorted derogatorily.

"Scratches," M-21 said sarcastically and put the bottle on to drink.

"Yeah, only the Kravei was right behind you when you got those scratches. Besides, the good woman has survived and is talking to the Elder right now."

M-21 spit out the water again.

[curlswithcreativity]

Attention - Tom Holland x Reader (Part One)

Prompt: Brittney and I like to send pictures back and forth. Sometimes in happens when I’m in class. We came to the realization that Boyfriend!Tom would almost definitely do it just for the joy of making you feel flustered. Some of the dialogue is stripped right from our conversation

A/N: I’m so sorry. It’s literally been so long since I posted that I had to look up how I formatted my fics. I’m back at school full time and it’s kicking my ass!! Also this is my first TH fic soooo... comments would be lovely! Also, this is a two parter because I didn’t like how it was turning out, so I just split off the end. I’ll post the rest tomorrow

Marvel & Marvel Cast Masterlist | Complete Writing Masterpost

Part Two

___

A tired sigh escaped your lips as you scribbled down your notes, your professor’s tangent failing to hold your attention. Your four-hour block of classes was almost done and you couldn’t wait for the short 30-minute break before the final four-hour block began. You needed to grab something to eat and quickly.

 Absent-mindedly, your hand trailed over to your phone to check the time. When the light of your screen came on, the familiar Snapchat banner that accompanied a new message derailed you. The small little red ghost icon followed by the name “Tom 🐸 💖” made you smile instinctively.

 Tom would frequently send you snaps to brighten your day and to help break up the monotony of your long lectures. The thought of a cutely framed photo of Tessa had you clicking on the banner urgently, your desire to see a cute dog in an equally cute or funny scenario incredibly strong.

Upon opening the app and message, you nearly dropped your phone in your haste to discreetly hide your screen. Tom apparently fresh from the shower had sent you a shirtless photo, his damp curls stuck to his forehead as he gave you a mischievous smirk. The towel he was wearing hung low around his hips providing ample view of his wet, well-defined abs. It was nothing you hadn’t seen before, but in the context of your lecture hall, you felt your cheeks quickly gaining a healthy flush.

 The banner that flashed across the top of your screen showed another new snap, and you twisted your hand to cover your face as you clicked on it warily. The photo showed the towel that had previously been wrapped around Tom’s hips now in his outstretched hand. The white towel was a stark contrast against the warm colours you had chosen for your bedroom, and considering Tom’s toned forearm and that damn towel were the only thing in frame, you had little else to focus on.

 This time when the small ghost appeared again at the top of your screen, first red, and then purple to indicate he had sent you a video, you turned your phone’s screen off and placed the device face down against the desk. Your face burned hotly and your heart raced as you squirmed in your seat.  You forced yourself to breathe deeply, reaching for your pen and re-entering the password to your laptop that had fallen dark in your moments of distraction.

 Right, you thought as you shook your head, focus on the Olympian Twelve. Do not think about the fact your incredibly attractive boyfriend almost definitely just sent you nudes.

 The subtle buzz of your phone against the lecture hall desk drew your attention away from the discussion regarding the nuisances of myths and legends. Your brow furrowed; you had your phone set to do not disturb, with the exception of a very select group of individuals. Ever since you had started dating Tom, your previously respectable number of notifications had skyrocketed, and the constant chime of your phone was not welcome in academic settings.

 Once more, curiosity got the better of you and you reluctantly turned over your phone to discover that although the banner was different, the sender was the same.

 TOM HOLLAND (7)

 You pulled down the notification with a swipe of your finger and quickly scanned the messages.

 “Why didn’t you open my picture 😞”

“I made you a special video, darling ;)”

“Y/N!!!”

“Love you, gorgeous xxx”

“Answerrrrr myyyyyy messagesssss”

“Do you not love me? If you did you would open my video ;)”

“Respond plz”

 You turned off your phone completely after that. There were only 20 minutes left in your lecture and he could wait that long. Maybe you would make it longer if he continued in his current vein, you thought as an email from him with the subject “LOVE, COME ON” flashed in the upper-hand corner of your laptop screen.  You didn’t bother to read the preview.

 The next 10 minutes were rather uneventful, and you hoped that Tom had finally gotten the hint. He was well aware of your schedule’s busy nature despite its stark contrast to his own. For the most part, he respected that.

 “Hey guys, it’s me, Tom Holland.”

 Your head whipped around in your seat, the sound of Tom’s voice coming through a tinny phone speaker an unexpected occurrence in your Classic Mythology lecture. The girl who was holding the phone shot you an apologetic look devoid of recognition as she lowered her volume. You sunk into your seat- despite the new sound level you could still hear the clear, familiar chatter of your boyfriend’s voice.

 “Oh, hello marj1091 and… sorry, I can’t see your usernames anymore, they’re going by too quickly.” There was the familiar sound of your creaking bed and a loud huff, which made you think that Tom had thrown himself down in his typical fashion.

 “Right.” Tom stated, a small pause following his voice as the sound of things moving flowed through the speaker. “I’m on live right now because I’m feeling incredibly ignored by a certain someone who is very dear to me.”

 You had been so distracted by his dialogue that you had missed your class dismissal. Suddenly, the seats around you were emptying and Tom’s voice was being covered by the sound of squeaking chairs and hurried steps. As you gathered your things, you stared at your phone hesitantly before turning it back on. You were intrigued now, if not still a little irritated, about what he was saying about you. Walking outside of the lecture hall, you clasped your phone tightly in your hand as you scrolled through your folders to find the multi-coloured camera icon. You cringed when you noticed you had been tagged in a photo and now had almost 1500 new notifications and mentions.

The newest addition to your tagged page had Tom’s face filling your screen, his hair much less damp than in the photos he had sent you and his muscled chest now covered by a heather grey t-shirt. He was pouting as he clutched tightly to Tess, the dog somehow managing to look forlorn as well. The caption read, “When she’s ignoring you because she’s “being responsible”… Quite sure Tess thinks she’s gone forever.”

 It would have been cute if it weren’t so blatantly manipulative.

 Your teeth ground together as you looked for a safe spot to stop that was not in the way of the ongoing foot traffic. Settling on a nearly empty bench, you sighed despite yourself; you had to admit… he did look good. And that was infuriating given your current need to focus on getting through your school day. His stream was still running, and against your better judgement you pulled it up to catch him in the middle of a conversation.

 “Look, I love that she’s going to class and learning. She’s absolutely brilliant and I’m so proud of her. But being home alone all day is rubbish. What am I supposed to do—?” Oh come on, Thomas, you thought, I’m sure you can think of something. “—Just wait? She should just stay home, it’s better for all of us.” He trailed off, his lips quirking up into a faint smile as he read through the comments, shifting in his spot as you let out a small huff. He nodded his head, reaching for something just out of frame as he spoke.

 “Right, if you’re just joining us now,” Tom said as he held up a photo to his phone’s camera. Your face, smiling brightly as he planted a kiss on your cheek, came into focus as he repositioned the photo and let out a dramatic sigh. “The live stream is dedicated to remembering my girlfriend, Y/N. She’s not dead, she’s just ignoring me because she’s in lectures all day.”

 You rolled your eyes and resisted the urge to comment, allowing others to do it for you.

 “I’M fUCKING DEAD HAHAHAHAHAHA”

“tom ur such a little baby”

“omg Y/N sucks. Who cares about school when you’re dating Tom Holland????”

“take off your shirt!!!”

“tom, you’re literally the loving boyfriend meme and its gross”

“uh, I’m pretty sure I just saw her join the stream?”

 The last comment made you pause, and you watched as Tom processed the slow feed.  He had apparently missed the notification that you had joined in his dramatic presentation, his face breaking into a beaming smile. You felt your lips lifting upwards instinctively despite your mild irritation.

 “Did she actually? That’s brilliant, I thought she would have turned off her phone. Y/N/N, are you paying attention to me now, love?”  He was smiling broadly as he clicked through the viewers before finally finding your username. “You are.”

 “I’m not.” You typed angrily while pursing your lips, chiding yourself. You had no doubt in your mind that this would only encourage him. When the comment finally made its way into his view, he let out a booming laugh.

 “You’re so stubborn.” He shifted in your bed, adjusting himself so that he could sit up more comfortably. “But since you’re here, you really should open the snap video I sent you. Maybe not in class though.” His voice had the same mischievous air to it that his texts had conveyed.

 “what snap video??”

“what’s the video?”

“video? Why are you making it seem like a sexy video? Did you send a sexy video?”

“tom why are you like this?”

“are you sexting her in class, what is this”

“puppy tom no!”

“fuckboy tom at it again”

 The request to join the Instagram live stream flashed across your phone, and you glared at it for a moment before declining. It took a second or two for your action to catch up to Tom’s device, and his face twisted into a comical pout at the rejection.

 “Aww, come on now, Y/N/N. You’re not in class now, yeah? Just-” The comments that were coming now were fast and overwhelming.

 “omg tom let the poor girl learn”

“let Y/N get a degree 2k18”

“take your shirt off!!!”

“girl drop out & be a housewife. id live off that spider man $$$”

“TOM I LOVE YOU. DATE ME INSTEAD”

 “-join for a moment so that I can see your lovely face.” He was relentless, you thought with a small shake of your head.

 You settled on a suitable response and taped it out hurriedly; you had less than 10 minutes now to get over to your new building and you would have to skip lunch, which was truly tragic. “Pictures exist for a reason, Thomas. Stop being a baby. This is a home discussion! And! I’m! Busy!” You weren’t surprised when he chose to ignore the second half of your message.

 “Well, yeah but it’s not the same, is it, love? And I’m not being a baby. Forgive me for wanting to spend time with my girlfriend.” Tom replied with a hint of a pout that was nowhere near as convincing as it could have been had it not been replaced almost immediately by a childish grin. God, he was infuriating.

 You sent “✌️👶”, a sentiment that you thought succinctly conveyed the message you wanted to get across, and rolled your eyes as you left the stream despite your boyfriend’s whines. His incessant contact had thrown you off your groove, and now it was a struggle to get where you needed to be. You grumbled to yourself as you bolted across campus. “Do I call him repeatedly when he’s on set? Does he get roped into live streams because I haven’t seen him in 5 hours?”

 The answer was a resounding no.

 Boy, was he going to have hell to pay when you got home.

___

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