#like what do you mean you want to kill him with hammers this guy bangs his head on trees when he has a crush 😭

[grntaire]

i gotta say being a les mis url iwtv icon tumblr user leads to some very confusing interpretations of posts about a guy named marius

[winters8child]

It´s been a long, long time

Chapter 33

We were all back in the jet, including a shackled Loki and the red shiny guy, who turned out to be Tony Stark, Howard's son. He was standing at the helm with Steve, discussing how surprisingly smooth the whole mission had gone. Loki, supposedly a god, had been captured so easily, and for some reason, he kept staring at me.

"There is darkness in you, I can feel it," Loki leaned over to me, grinning. "You are not like your lover. You would like to be, but you are not."

"Excuse me?" I recoiled. "You don't know me."

Thunder rumbled outside, and Loki flinched. "What's the matter? Are you scared of a little lightning?" Steve mocked him.

But Loki seemed genuinely afraid. "I'm not overly fond of what follows," he muttered. The thunder and lightning intensified, and a loud bang erupted overhead, making the jet shake. Steve and Tony donned their helmets as Natasha opened the ramp.

I was about to protest that I wanted to join, but a massive guy landed before us, wielding a hammer. This world was getting crazier by the minute. He had long blond hair, a red cape, and muscles like Hercules. He looked seriously angry. Everything happened so quickly that I didn't have time to react.

He struck Tony with the hammer, throwing him back, grabbed Loki by the neck, and jumped out as if it were nothing. I stared after them, mouth agape. How were we supposed to fight people like these? At least the Nazis were normal humans; this was a whole other ballpark.

"That guy is a friendly?" Steve asked, panting, as Tony prepared to jump after them.

"Doesn't matter. If he frees Loki or kills him, the Tesseract is lost."

"Stark, we need a plan of attack!" Steve called after him.

"I have a plan. Attack," Tony responded confidently, disappearing into the darkness of the night.

"Maybe it's better if we stay here, Steve. This is way above our pay grade... I mean, these are gods we're talking about," I reasoned, glancing nervously at the clouds outside.,". Steve didn't pause, strapping on his shield.

"There is only one God, and I'm pretty sure He doesn't dress like that," he replied firmly.

"You know I have to come with you if you go. I won't stay behind," I yelled over the loud jet engines, grabbing the last parachute. Steve sighed, his frustration evident, but there was no time to argue.

"Fine, but stay with me," he demanded, jumping out of the jet.

We landed amidst the chaos. Tony and the god guy were locked in battle, the forest around them a wreck of fallen trees and scorch marks. The god guy still looked like a supermodel.

Steve threw his shield between them to break them apart. "That's enough," he yelled, jumping down from the tree stump he had landed on. "Now I don't know what you plan on doing here," he added.

"I've come to put an end to Loki's schemes," the god guy said, his voice edged with anger. I hesitated, gripping my pistol. Aiming at a god felt pointless.

"Then prove it. Put that hammer down," Steve demanded, standing tall.

Tension crackled in the air. My fingers twitched toward my knife, and my blood started to boil. I had never carved up a god; I wondered if their blood was any different. "I will gut you like a pig," I yelled, getting ready to jump at his throat.

God Guy did not look happy. Tony was rolling his eyes, and Steve held me back by my arm. "There is no need for bloodshed. Just put that hammer down," he asked again.

Tony was shaking his head. "Yeah... no. Bad call, he loves his hammer," only to be hit with it the next second.

He landed in a pile of wood, groaning in pain as the god guy advanced on us. "You want me to put the hammer down?" he taunted, leaping into the air and aiming his hammer at Steve. Steve quickly pulled up his shield, hiding me behind him, but the impact was so loud and powerful that the three of us were thrown in all directions.

I flew through the air, flailing, and landed in a pile of branches. Not even the suit could stop the pain that followed. "Ugh, I hate nature," I stammered as Steve picked me up by my hand. He looked at all of us with a defeated expression.

"Are we done here?"

Reluctantly we all decided that there would be no winners today and returned to the helicarrier, with a shackled Loki in tow. Twenty armed soldiers escorted him to his cell although it was more like a glass cage, that could be dropped only with the push of a button, just in case Loki tried something.

We all could see him over the screens, sitting in the conference room of the aircraft. He was taunting Dr. Banner, "A mindless beast. Makes play he's still a man. How desperate are you, that you call on such lost creatures to defend you? A green monster and a bloodthirsty demon, masquerading as the good guys."

I swallowed hard, telling myself he wasn't talking about me. I glanced at Steve for reassurance, but he was focused on the screen."How desperate am I?", Fury's voice came out of the speakers, "You threaten my world with war. You steal a force you can't hope to control. You talk about peace, and you kill because it's fun. You have made me very desperate. You might not be glad that you did.", he threatened.

Loki remained unfazed, his confidence unsettling. "It burns you to have come so close. To have the Tesseract, to have power, unlimited power. And for what? A warm light for all mankind to share. And then to be reminded what real power is", he continued, his voice dripping with condescension.

The video cut off, leaving us all uncertain about what to do next. Dr. Banner had his arms crossed, fidgeting uncomfortably. Loki had just called him a monster.

"He really grows on you, doesn't he?" Banner said sarcastically.

I was still reeling from the way Loki had openly called me a demon and hinted at the darkness within me. I glanced around, trying to gauge if any of the others looked at me differently, but they seemed focused on Loki's plans for Earth. Maybe Loki knew something about me, or maybe he was just trying to unnerve me.

Thor, the god guy’s real name, spoke up. "He has an army called the Chitauri. They're not of Asgard, nor any world known. He means to lead them against your people. They will win him the Earth in return, I suspect, for the Tesseract."

He had also kidnapped an astrophysicist named Erik Selvig and put him under a spell. According to Natasha, someone else on their side was also under Loki's control. Her body language conveyed that it was someone she greatly cared about.

All this talk about science—half of it I didn’t even understand, especially after Tony joined the conversation. He was much like his father: confident in his abilities, but maybe slightly more sarcastic. I wasn’t getting any answers here. The only person who could give them to me was in a glass cage, two stories down.

I excused myself, touching Steve's shoulder on the way out. "I'll be right back," I told him and walked out. I had thought getting to him would be harder, but wearing this uniform afforded me some authority, I supposed.

When I arrived, Loki was pacing in his cage. He turned around with a vicious smile. "I knew you would come. I did get into that little head of yours, didn't I?" he drawled. He was toying with me, and I felt stupid for even being here. I turned to leave when he stepped closer to the glass separating us.

"I see a lot of blood in your future. More than already, anyway," he taunted.

I balled my fists and faced him again. "What do you know about me?" I asked sternly.

He gloated like a cat that had caught a mouse. "You crave the blood you shed. You welcome it, you bathe in it. You could be so much more if you didn't hide behind all that shame," he said, looking at me with pity. "And that man you claim to love, he will never understand you. You are the very thing he is fighting against."

My lip quivered, and I was at a loss for words. It felt like he had brought forth every feeling I had desperately tried to suppress. "I am not a monster," I whimpered, turning to leave.

"You are just like me, only you're not in a cage... yet," he called after me.

I walked out, shut the door behind me, and knew deep down that he was right.

Next Chapter

[j2zara]

HI! here to play with dolls! (also good luck and safe travels on your road trip tomorrow! I'll be on the road too, so I'm with you in spirit.)

honestly, going off those vibes: we've been talking some about the clone basement situation, but to go the opposite direction briefly....what's the world like where all three of the clones (+ jaceporter or without jaceporter, in either iteration) do have to go on, like, an extended trip together for The Plan? I'm thinking something like going to deal with matters in the Mountains of Chaos or the former Forest of the Nightmare King. just in general being removed from the basement-and-Elmville-specific flavor of the torment nexus and now in a new environment with different things (such as all the minor trials and tribulations that pop up when traveling for a job, or roadtripping together. traveling by car, potentially. staying in hotels!!) would this fix any of the dynamics. would it make any of them worse. who's mad at whom. who's hooking up with whom. does it depend on where they're going and what they're doing. does it depend on if jaceporter are present or absent off doing something. gimme all the thoughts!

The fact that the preface for this is “good luck on your road trip” sorry I should be killed with hammers for letting this sit so long but it was too juicy. ANYWAY. I’m tired of banging my head against the wall trying to make my latest wip work. LET'S GET THESE CLONES OUT OF THE BASEMENT. ALso sorry this is definitely unfinished but my brain is broken. if i think if anything else i’ll definitely add to it

 Some cursory thoughts:

I think if they were to do a road trip, J4 would really really really try to convince jace to let her drive. She doesn’t like that the world has built itself to be so car-centric but also on a personal level. she got behind the wheel of a car for the first time and can’t be responsible for how she behaves. (She’s me coded) She likes the freedom of it (they have teleportation but like. still). She’s also Porter-coded b/c she secretly kinda likes big cars so she can be a menace on the road the intimidates other people. They are NOT letting porter drive tho (if porter comes. Which he really should. I think everyone should join. It would be so much fun)

The problem is that nobody else wants to drive but J4 insists on only listening to her music and her weird podcasts while she drives (I don’t wanna believe its true crime but it’s probably true crime). Which. Is fair that’s usually how it works but also J4 only listens to bands that play every tuesday in the parking lot of the black pit so her taste is borderline unlistenable to everyone else, especially Jace. Blue can tolerate it bc he’s blue he can endure anything and also thinks its fair and J3 whines a bit but also will be ok with it b/c its Ellie. After people keep complaining is FINE i’ll change the music but J3 gets to choose. And his club music is worse

Her other strategy is that she will turn the music off but i need someone to keep me awake so she’s employed j3 to talk to her the entire time which is almost as annoying as if it were her music. It’s good for a little while bc they do get along but also this does sometimes devolve into petty arguments

Jace is like FINE i will take a shift if it means we can change the station and what was supposed to be a three hour break ends up being like an entire day of jace driving so that he can catch a break. Ellie is fine with this b/c this means J2 or Porter is now in the passenger seat. She gets to be in the back w J3 (depending on the seating she might even be able to nap on his shoulder)

J3: “I want to listen to music” J4: “well i want to listen to a podcast” J2: “Why don’t we compromise! We’ll listen to a podcast that Ellie doesn’t like :)” [puts on the Dry Guys] (I stole that bit from the simpsons)

I am. Compelled at the thought of getting little J2 out of elmville b/c i think getting to meet people who are not Jaceporter would be very good for him. By this point his brain is already cooked so who is to say that it’s not too late and he isn’t weird and offputting to most people but i don’t think he’s a lost cause. It must be remembered. He is also very very very very very very cute. There must be people willing to humor him or shoot their shot!!!! And i am a proponent of this. LJ3’s responsibility is to make sure blue doesn’t piss too many people off by talking the way he does like he’s about to recruit them for an mlm but also make sure he doesn’t get roped into an entirely new cult for himself. I do think it would be good exposure for him as long as jaceporter don’t find a way to twist it and be like “look this is how dangerous and scary the world is which is why we are the only ones looking out for your interests” which. Is probably what would happen. But i don’t want to believe it

I do think. Being out on the road would maybe ease some of the like. Tension of being stuck in the gothic romance haunted townhouse basement, overall. But make some problems worse. Jace is obviously trying to herd the clones like cats (aka unsuccessfully) and this is very exciting for me just b/c i do think getting them out of their element is very fun and they’re all very ravenous but compelled by different things. J2 is probably the one that is easiest to wrangle tho just b/c he’s such a goodboy. J3 is excited to meet new people but J4 i think is machinating how she can get her hands on as many magical items as weapons as possible.

Something something motels and there was only one bed oooooooooohhhhh. If we’re talking about who is sleeping with who, this is an LJ3 test and. Like. I do think there is some There Was Only One Best LJ3 like they start off closer than ever but also at each others throats. Obviously j3 meeting new people is a bit of a. Stressor for Ellie, but i genuinely think none of that is as bad as either the J3porter or j2j3 blip. Poor blue probably has to share a room w/ them but like. To be fair sometimes he’s with Porter and Jace (again it depends on if Porter is with them. If its not then like. Lets be real j2jace are also gonna have to And There Was Only One Bed about it and im not complaining)

Leviathan Specific Thoughts

Speaking of meeting people. We need to get the clones to nasty dirty pirate island. I think. J4 is in a constant tug of war between reveling in nasty dirty pirate island and being like. Oh you guys really are lawless freaks. I do think she could thrive but also get into some real trouble. But she’s making plans to come back later maybe so she can take it over from the inside. And J3 would clean tf up. He deserves a vacation to the gold gardens, i’ve been saying this for forever. (He’s gonna climb james whitclaw like a tree if it kills him, and it nearly does get him killed) It would maybe piss off Ellie but also if there’s one place where she’d be like alright whatever have your fun see if i care its nasty dirty pirate island (sorry i keep calling it that, i just think its funny when Ayda says it). (J4 is gonna hit it off with cathilda while he’s busy anyway. Who said that)

I could be a bit of a Garthy x J2 truther tho. I just think. Garthy has this like. Commanding presence but they’re  also fairly easygoing and calming and not exactly gentle but you know what i mean? Like i think they’re close enough to the jaceporter wheelhouse of their Vibe that J2 could maybe see the appeal. I need Garthy to spoil J2 a bit and have a good time. J2 deserves the strap. Who said that.

J4 and J2 i think would be very very into the Compass Points library. J2 b/c he genuinely enjoys research, J4 because its additional resources to add to her pepe silvia How to Get A God To Grant Us True Life stringboard. J3 would not give a shit. I’ve joked about this before but i think Ayda would. NOT like Jace b/c i think she would find him stressful to talk to and insincere. I think she would feel kinda similarly about J3, but could get along better with J4 and J2 who are the more up-front ones of the clones. Even tho she’s not the nicest, I think Ayda would appreciate J4’s directness. 

If Aelwyn is at the Compass Points, this is the perfect time to mention my “Aelwyn has an adolescent crush on J4” agenda. I’ve talked a little bit abt what i think Aelwyn’s vibe is with the clones but. Aelwyn as a former fellow teacher knows Jace and has neutral to negative leaning feelings on jace but J4 is like hey weird girl. I like your hair and Aelwyn is like. Jace is. Hot now? This is it. This is the person that is beautiful and mean and nasty that Aelwyn always dreamed of.

Meanwhile to J2 she’s like. Bullying kristen about her wranglers coded. Look. I know i’m a librarian but. Why are you dressed for the job that I have, what is your excuse? You’re twenty seven and dress like you’re seventy (He was actually born sexy yesterday but also fifty but also in half elf aging that’s like maybe 30-ish?. It's complicated but still no excuse)

[carpenoctemnyx]

Every single little moment in NPMD in order that just scratches my brain in the best way. I mean tbh the whole show does, but these moments are what the tism is grasping onto.

(WARNING: Its a LOT of moments, so theyre all under the cut since the post is so fuckin long)

"And I can survive it for only so long"(all of them)

The "im so fucking dead" from the ensemble during steph and pete's convo

"'CHEATER!!' 'OH GOD BUTT OUT CHASITY!!'"

"My melody! My melody! My melody"

"AWOOO! AWOOO! RAWR!"

"Grace just be cool! NEVER!"

"Im so fucking dead! YEAH!!"

"No! I wanna be invisible! Then why do you come to a public school dressed in suspenders and a fuckin bow tie?"

"Sycamore? I'd rather starve to death."

"Oh my god!! YOU'RE Micro-Peter! Oh, god."

"This outfit it the tapestry of my trauma!"

"Anyone every do this? *snap* Every damn day. My titties are tenderized!"

"It's polish."

"Spankoffski! Who are you running from? Ehh."

"He's straight ahead!"

"You wont defeat his kind. Never look in the eye. He's a literal monster!"

"Everyone knows how he BANGS!"

"He roars, and we cry, hes the reason with no why. He's a literal monster! A damn literal monster!"

"It's 3rd period, Shit-lips. I gotta get to remedial algebra."

"I never intended to walk through your hallway. Ohhh well theres a difference between intent and impact."

"FUCKNUGGET!!"

"Haha YEAH! NO dumbass!"

"Ohhh sorry! Fresh out of your favorite food! I guess im just gonna have to flick it!"

"Ohhhh a two bagger? Hahahaha! Whats a two bagger?"

"Oh!! That's so sick bro! Thats so fuckin funny! PYAHHH *punch sound*"

"Get him up!! Get this fucker up!!"

"Now deposit this trash in the nearest receptacle."

"Haha haha hahaha! Spunk! You're funny."

"*appalled* carry my books!?"

"Chasity, come on! You're breakin my balls."

"You dont know me very well, do you??"

"Watch some p0rn! You'll see! Tell me im wrong dirty girl. Dont call me that!"

"My little dirty girl *that one audience member OHHH*"

"And his name is Jesus Christ!"

"Forbidden fruit, dick hole!"

"You can leave, but you wont, stay in your seat!"

max's lil dance when hes singing "better leave your hopes behind no ones gonna stop me" that leads into that lil airplane arms move

also including the dance move with kyle "you wont defeat his kind, never look in the eye"

"You can watch as i rise! I will claim what is mine!"

"Learn to multi-task!"

"Well, well. If its not my october surprise."

"Stephanie, please, I'd like to have an intelligent conversation with you. In other words, shut up."

"Hooow ominous"

"Hey that looks like my... phone. It is."

"Please daddy?"

"NOO!! *dives forward and shoves hand in the way* Did you just put your hand BETWEEN the hammer and the phone??? ...yeah..."

How... am i supposed to study withOUT LISTENING TO SPOTIFY!?!? DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT YOU'RE DOING?? YOU'RE KILLING ME WITH WHAT YOU'RE DOING!!! If only, Stephanie. If only."

"This project's on thermo-dynamics. What the fuck are you talking about?"

"God! I just want someone to touch me! Anyone, PLEASE! Jesus! Calm down Ruth."

"Somebody walks to the office with Stephanie LauTer and suddenly he's Stefan Urquelle."

The way Richie Says peTe and uuusing you

"What was it like when she touched your arm? DID YOU CUM??? Ruth! Quit it!"

The way Richie says peTeR

"I'll never hold the real Rei and Asuka in my arms"

The way Pete says "Sorry!" To Ruth when his phone is ringing

The way Richie says TelemArkeTer

"NANI!?!?" *Ruth and Richie creeping towards Pete*

"What is she saying? What the FUCK is she saying!?"

"Oh my god!! Oh my god!! What's the matter with you guys!?"

"WEEOO WEEOO!!"

"I'm actually the smart one in the group, if you can believe that."

"Really Ruth? A star wars analogy? Need i go into why Attack On Titan is superior in EVERY possible way!?"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!! Excuse me? Uh, not you. Just these two FUCKING nerds that wont leave me alone."

"They dont call it a cram session for nothing! Watch some p0rn! You'll see!"

"You're telling me I gotta be funny, AGAIN? I didnt do it on purpose the FIRST time!"

The way Richie says opportunity. It sounds like opportudidy

"Thats your perspective"

"Oh whoa whoa oh"

Then again im deranged"

"What if people see me as someone other than who I am"

"If i can finally be cool i will know that im not a loser!"

"I'm the ruler!"

"OHHHH! *crowd cheers* SHUT UP!"

"EUGH!! So you're a POOR piece of shit then?"

"Well im sick of your sh-sh-shit"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP JASON!!"

"I dont give a fuck what she said! I did not consent to this rendez-voos!"

"I decide if Kyle can date Brenda. *turns to Jason* The answer's still no... by the way!"

"I willed it into existence"

"Im your God. Now on your knees, bitch. It's time to say your fuckin prayers! *cuts to the Chasitys* Amen!"

"Mmm, that house. What's wrong with it? Its haunted. Everyone says so."

"DAD GROSS!!"

"Mom will you pass the butt stuff? The butter. Butter. Will you pass the butter? Eheh I just want some head and butter. BREAD! BREAD! Bread and butt sex to go with this big shaft of meat im gonna choke down. Ohhhh boy. Oh criminy!"

"And theyre flyin reaaal low today"

"Some big, dumb, sexy, sweaty, hooot, football star"

The way Grace says "Hello??" When fantasy Max is calling her name

"Im hungry, and here you are brewing up a big ol' pot of dirty girl soup *siffs aggressively* ahhhh! My favorite!"

"You call my bath water dirty girl soup? This is wrong! This is sooo wrong"

"I know!" *max rips off his jacket and the crowd screams*

"I love... to FUCK!"

The entirety of Dirty Girl Soup song but extra extra emphasis on certain parts

"Hey boo, daddy needs a little of that dirty soup"

"You're lookin all filthy like, you know its wrong i know its right"

"I'll never ever tell ya to behave i am expecting you to be-betray me"

"Ima love you all night long" including Max's lil hip thing

"Oh! Dirty dirty girl wont you sing for me wont you love me like you dont care. (all of these esp the ones with Grace)

"Hey brute"

"Its clear you never stepped in a classroom" including Grace's lil dance move here

The way Grace says School

"For shame. I am expecting you to be-behave" including Grace's lil dance move here too

"On your knees pray along, if you wanna last until dawn"

And then the dirty dirty girl section including the dance

"RAH-AHH" *hand wave thing* and the second one of this too

"Got me hungry for more. Hungry for more."

"Im a im a im a good girl x4 WHO ON OCCASSION GETS DIRTY!!"

Again cue the dirty dirty girl bit + dance

Grace's lil shaky moan thing after "poisons the air"

"Damn these wandering hands! Damn these sinful loins!"

"This is a no-moan household!"

".....I'll get the plunger...."

"Girl! That must be so embarrassing for you."

"Standing up the mayor's daughter like he's got no fucks to give? Not gonna lie. Thats really sexy."

"Oh my god! The fucking bowtie kid??"

"Hey uh... dweeb! *both Richie and Ruth respond* yeah?"

"Oh shes touching meee! Luckyyyy!"

"Its better than i even imagined" *cute lil twirl*

"And what, pray tell, may that be, Stephanie?"

"God, you suck, Grace."

"Isn't this like breaking and entering? Im not breaking anything. My dad's the realtor!" *jingles keys*

"Hacked em to bloody bits!"

"PottyPants? How about PissyPants? Im not comfortable with the plan if it involves that kind of language."

"Im not comfortable with this place. Its not structurally sound."

"Don't bully me!"

The whole Bully the Bully song but extra extra emphasis on specific parts

Grace's lil snap and spin moment

"Petey gonna jump on out" *Pete's lil move here*

Ruth saying "we're gonna cut off his nips!" And then Richie's lil shimmy move

"Ahhhhahhhh"

"Richie the whole point is that its in the dark! Well then im gonna have to shoot the whole thing in a wide, and its gonna look like shit!"

"No! We're gonna be cool beans. We're gonna keep the beans cool. We're gonna gonna keep the beans, beans the cool, keep the beans, the cool, keep the beans, bean school. Beans school? Excellent!"

"I still wanna talk.... Hello...? Hello....? Hello? Who was that? My boyfriend! Sounded like a telemarketer. Okay, my EX boyfriend."

"You're the best friend ive ever had. Oh thats sad. I think im in love with you. Okay..." *walks away*

"Am i reading as ghost, or Lin Manuel Miranda?"

"You kinda look like that homeless guy from downtown. Ohhh. But that could still work, he gets pretty scary sometimes."

Ruth's lil butt wiggle

"I mean you could just hit it and quit it, bro! Yeah... I dont want to though... You're fuckin useless pete!"

When Max walks up and burps and says "i gott piss" and this does a cute lil bouncy move

"Oh shiiiit. Wheres that creepy music comin from?"

"do it alfuckinready"

"Who's there? Maaaaax Jagermannn. WHAT!?"

"Oh shit! Oh fuck! Its a fuckin ghost!"

"Its time to stop running!" *chugs bear and smashes the can on his head and yeets it, then puts up his fists* "float over here ghost,* starts punching the air* im gonna kick your fucking ass!"

"Uhhh you cant fight me im an etheral being soooo... we'll see about that. Ima make you say boo-hoo, bitch! *charges at pete and pete runs away screaming* YESSSS I MAKE THE DEAD RUN IN FEAR!!! I AM JAGERMAAAAAN!!! I AM GOOOOD!!!! GOOO NIGHTHAWKS!!!"

*skele-ruth runs ins and does her lil scream thingy* "oh shit! Oh fuck! I didnt think there'd be a skele'en here! Im so fucking scared of skele'ens! Maybe i should just run! Where, Max?? Back home so Dad can call you a little cuck?? Can't even fight off one lousy skele'en?? No! I got not choice! Hey, Skele'en! I got a bone to pick with you, bitch!"

"It's working for me! He's sooo violent!"

Ruth's lil yelp after steph tells max to stop

"Steph we cant have a party here! This place is hella haunted!"

"It's all a prank. A trick to scare the shit out of you cuz you deserve it. What??? You're telling me you nerds put this whole thing together just for me? Wow. I though you guys hated me. But thanks. This was really great. You're not pissed? Oh! Are you kidding?? Nonono this is like THE nicest thing anyone's ever done for me."

"Ohhhh! And the skele'en. Oh. That was really special" *Max bows to Ruth*

"Look what you fuckin nerds made me do! I pissed my fucking pants! ....mission accomplished???" *Pete signaling to cut it out and Ruth and Grace behind him like wtf Richie*

"This wasnt murder! And it wasnt an accident! It was an act of God!"

"Oh yeah! Like thats gonna hold up in court! He was smote!"

Grace's snap and spin again and Richie groaning "oh nooo shes snapping again!!"

"We're gonna hack all his limbs off! Did you say hack all his limbs off?? Yeah! We're gonna hack all his limbs off!"

"You want me to films this!?!?!?!"

"Aaahhhahhhh"

"Thank god Max is gone. Wasnt he your friends?? YEAAAAHHHH but he forbade me from dating, AND he wrecked my dad's Ski-Doo. FUCK that guy."

"Good news! You passed the test?? With flying colors! Oh-ho! Aaaaaa C+"

"Ya know, this is really your C+. Oh... Steph... you can keep it. It'd really bring down my GPA."

"No, Jagerman doesnt let nerds go to footba-... huh... you know maybe i will."

"Go, go Nighthawks! We'll take the fight unto the victors go the spoils! Go, go Nighthawks! We're taking flight we are the leaders and the royals! AHH-AHH!" Including the lil bird wing flappy thing

"N! I-G! H-T! AHH-AHH! KS!"

And the dudes in the background goin "Night! Hawks! Night! Hawks! Fly!"

"Fuuuck you Clivesdale go get fucked! You're fuckin losers, and we'll kill you! Kill your ass!"

They're my bros for life!"

Richie struggling to take off the mascot costume

"Ohhh. I remember what /I/ said. Do you? You FUCKIN NERD?"

"That aint good news for you, ya bitch"

"You shouldve joined the smoke club, you nerdy prude! NERDY PRUDES MUST DIE! *cue Jon bein fuckin goated at imitating a levitation* Nerdy prudes must diiiie!"

"I want you to repeat after me. Okay... Who will pray for me? Who will pray for me? When im gone? When im gone? Until another Richie, comes along. Can you repeat that one? WHO WILL PRAY FOR MEEE WHEN IM GONNNE OR IS THIIIIS THE ETERNAL DARK WITHOUT A DAWN! Who will pray for you? Who will pray for me? When your body's gone? When my body's gone? This is the consequence for what you've done! I'M NOT A LOSER! WHAT DID YOU SAY!?! ᵈᵒⁿᵗ ᵏᶦˡˡ ᵐᵉ. Im not a nerdy prude. Im not a loser! Of course nooot, Richiiie."

“He wasn’t sexy at all… MAMA IM CURED!!!”

“Shoot n shinola!”

“Mornin Daaaaadddy!”

“You don’t say? You don’t say! Welllll I’ll be down there in a jiffy! What did they find dad? They didn’t say!”

“Gosh! I hope it’s not termites! Haha”

“Ohhhh heck. I’m so heckin fudged!”

When the gang is getting called to the principals office and Pete just says “oh no” in like a monotone-y way

“Dont look at me! Get your hands out of your pockets! ….sorry sir….”

The reluctant “go nighthawks”

“Shut the fuck up Ruth!”

“We lost to CLIVESDALE!! FUCKIN *kicks chair* CLIVESDALE!!!”

“Yeahhh… thanks for NOTHIN!!!”

“Yes Ruth! We are fucked!”

“People tell me to die everyday!”

“Someone spilled the beans! All our cool beans!”

Again Ruth’s “Don’t bully me!!”

Pete’s lil “no” when Grace accuses him

“I’m gonna get those pigs off our backs!”

“Shock! Despair! Tragedy!"

“I’ve never known darker times, and I covered the protest live at the Hatchetfield Kennel! I am Dan Reynolds! With action news, week days at 10pm.”

And down down down down, who’s swinging the hatchet now in hatchet town! Someone’s got their hands on the hatchet handle. Swingin on the youth it’s a hatchet scandal. Careful or your folks will end up a cannibals plate. It ain’t great! You’re better on the run than you are hiding, suddenly this quiet town’s exciting.”

“I heard that their brains were soup, their intestines cut in two. So it’s gotta be Donna! What??? Yeah it’s gotta be Donna! DAAAAN!?!?!”

“I certainly don’t LOVE killing”

“Barry’s on the loose and he’s got a gun, and he’s got a motive to kill. IM IN A HURRY!!!”

“Get your hands off me!!!”

“Careful or your kids will end up on Charlie’s plate. Excuse me?? He just ate! How dare you!”

“Singing all these songs gives him greater windows to kill, but we’re singing still!!”

And now THIS PART. The ENTIRETY OF BRYCE CHARLES’ SOLO. It’s fucking transcendent!!!

“Until GERALD! went on his murder spreeeee! I KNEW IT WAS GERALD!! Linda, call my lawyer. Let’s kill him!!”

“Can I shit or will I drown??”

“Ohhhh barbecue monologues, eh? I saw that in New York. Really? How was it? Fuckin ✨transcendent✨”

Joey's whole monologue thing here but extra emphasis on “Every Kah-bob”

“I wanna remember who I am….”

Trevor’s “My barbecue!”

*ruth throws hands up* “I guess!”

“Betcha I could do it! Betcha I could!”

“in my dream, it’s MY barbecue!” *ruth’s little arm wave thing*

“How can something be medium AND well?”

“All of the trappings of the well to-do!”

“And life is fine, if only it were mine.”

“Judge me!”

“And the world’s a stage, when you’re middle of age.”

“It’s well done on the outside, not within! OOOH!”

“Oh ohhh just for once! Just for once! Just for oooooonce!”

Ruth’s cute lil tap dance move

“I used to dance. I used to dance”

“Oh nooo my anxiety *gags* I’m gonna hurl!”

“I believe your next line is AAAAHHHH”

“Project Ruth! They can’t hear you in the back row! Ow, my butt! You’re splitting me in two!”

Max slowly putting the “underwear” over Ruth’s head and then petting her

“Take a bow, bitch!”

The theater director’s dramatic screaming

“No nonono! You can’t do this to me okay?? This isn’t my fault! This isn’t my plan! Woah woah woah who’s place was it Grace? IT WAS GODS PLAN!! And now he’s leaving me out to dry! DO SOMETHING YOU SON OF A BITCH!!”

“Don’t! FOLLOW ME!”

“And he gives me his numberrrr! Very smooth!”

“EXCUSE ME! *audience screaming* I have been waiting for what feels like five fucking years and I STILL have not received my goddamn hot chocolate! Sorryy sir *deadpans fake spitting* here you go. …thank you….”

“MY dad sells women’s shoes!”

“Don’t spin this back on meee”

“Because you’re crazy about me. …..WHAT!?”

“On the first date, Steph? Have some respect for yourself!”

“If I loved you, you would know it. If I loved you, I would show it. If I love you like you should be loved. If I loved you like I’m capable of. If you were the one I’m thinking of, woah ohhh, oh babe I’d let you know”

“Wake me up when you turn eighteeeeen”

“LEAVE ROOM FOR JESUS!” *shove*

“Did they buy it? Ha!”

“Gimme a cup of hot water, and make it strong!”

“Does your phone plan cover calls to hell?”

“She’s bisexual and dead! Where else would she be??”

*whips out gun* “JUST COOL YOUR BEANS, STEPH! Just cool em right the heck down!”

“Shut the front door, spankoffski!”

“SIR! DOOOO NOT APPROACH ME! GET YOU HANDS OUTTA YOUR POCKETS! PUT YOUR HANDS DOWN! HE’S GOING FOR A GUN!! *runs at paul*”

Pete’s “HOLY SHIT!!” When officer bailey rushes at Paul

“STOP RESISTING! STOP RESISTING!” *cue Emma screaming*

“You ruined our lives Grace!! I knowwww *sobbing* I just haven’t been thinking clearly lately. All I wanted was to be a regular girl, with no sexual desire, until she was safely married. I never asked for this tickle in my mommy spot. I’ve done so many terrible things, like touching myself and lying to the police. …..and dismembering a body….. well… we all did that, so…. But I called god a son of a b-word. Who am I!?!? *more sobbing* ohh.. it’s alright Grace. Don’t comfort her. She’s fuckin weird.”

“Stephanie, please. I’ve been bugging your phone since you were 12.”

“I don’t give a shit who you kill, but you just HAD to go and do it in that house, didn’t you?”

“A book??”

“You mean… satan? Oh no… they’re much worse.”

“K-yuck, k-yuck, k-fuck!”

*head gets thrown on stage* *collective screams* “Damn you miss tessburger! You were worthless!”

“Nerdy Prudes must die. That’s not me! I’m an elected official!”

“I can buy you beer!”

“I hate politics! It’s for NERDS!”

“Pete get behind me! I’ve got a gun! Steph, it’s a ghost… I don’t think that’s gonna do any good…. On the ground, bitch! I’m a cop!”

“Heck! Heck no!”

“Are you a woman of faith? Catholic. I’ll take that as a no.”

“He’s right there! WHAT THE FUCK!?”

“Pete, is she okay? Can you feel a pulse? I have no idea what I’m doing.”

The entirety of the summoning scene. It’s my favoritest part of the whole show.

Extra extra emphasis on “we don’t give a shit about your phone!”

Max’s slow mo run beat boxing to stop the bullet

“So you do know the Bible”

Grace taking her hair down and shaking it out

“Grace what are you doing?? SHUT YOUR FUCKING FART HOLE SPANKOFFSKI!! I wanna hear this! As you were saying Grace….”

“Brewin a pot of dirty girl soup, just for you! What?? Uhh, It’s what you call my bath water in my sexual fantasies. *GASP* that’s nastyyy….. I like it.”

“What… the fuck… is happening right now!?!?”

“GRRRR! I’ll be right back!”

The background dialogue of Grace and Max and then Peter saying “holy cow they’re doin it! Grace is having sex with a fucking ghost!”

Grace sauntering out and smoking a cigarette and saying “wooow I needed that” and then max being baby girl and swinging his legs in the air and saying “where you goin? Don’t you wanna cuddle a little bit?”

“I paid the price, now fuck off” *Grace twirl*

“Nonooooooowwwhatever! It was fuckin worth it!”

“What the fuck you just say to me!?!?”

“Mom said it would help me make friends. Boy was she wrong.”

“Liek eye dew”

“That was… absolutely disgusting!!”

Graces evil laugh “the souls of the pervs make me strong” more evil laughter

“DIRTY DUDES MUST DIE! DIRTY DUDES MUST DIIIIEEE!!”

“RUN YOU LITTLE BITCH”

“Darkness will spare my soul”

“Run dudes. RUN”

[sourwulf]

so remember when the guy at the school was holding a gun to stiles' head and scott's dad saved him? can u do something similar but this time he saves u in the same way during the whole deadpool thing? thnx

༄  word count  —  1.5k

፨  characters  —  stiles stilinski

☓  tw  —  guns, blood, death

⊹  cw  —  violence

✎  masterlist

─

you were currently in the girl’s locker room putting your stuff in your locker after track practice. you’d stayed a little longer to get an extra couple of miles in, and now the sun was setting, making the school dark inside.

you were standing in the shower under the hot water, letting it run over your tight and sore muscles when it suddenly went cold, making you quickly rinse your hair before tying a towel around your body, drying yourself off, and getting dressed. you pulled your hair out of the towel that was covering you a moment ago and brushed it out.

you knew scott wouldn’t be happy with you being alone — what, with all the dead pool stuff going on. you were the only human on the list, and you were worth significantly less than everyone else — seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars. everyone else was over a million, but not you.

none of you knew why you were even on the list in the first place. everyone else was a werewolf, banshee, or some other kind of creature. maybe it was simply because you were friends with them, or maybe because you had information that no one wanted to get out.

either way, your friends didn’t want you getting hurt. and since you didn’t have the same abilities and powers everyone else did, you were told to always be with someone who could protect you.

and the person you were paired up with was stiles. you two weren’t super close when everything started, as you’d only been friends for a couple of weeks. but sleeping over at each others’ houses every night and spending your free time together caused you two to bond, and now you were like two peas in a pod.

but you’d finally managed to get some alone time, and you’d never been so thankful to be alone. you enjoyed spending time with stiles, but you also really liked having some time to yourself outside of class.

but when you started hearing footsteps outside the locker room, you looked over to the door. you took a few steps toward it and they stopped before retreating and going the other way. you figured it was probably just a janitor, so you turned back to go to your locker.

you stopped in your tracks, though, when you almost walked into a taller man who wasn’t there before.

you jumped backward and he just smirked at you.

“this is the girls’ locker room,” you said nervously.

“oh, i know.” you looked down to see a gun in his hand and gulped, realizing that being alone in the school probably wasn’t the best idea. it was an old revolver, one with a hammer you have to pull back to shoot. “i just figured almost eight hundred thousand dollars was worth a trip into the wrong locker room.”

he raised his weapon to point at your stomach and your eyes went wide.

“wait, you don’t have to do this. i-i’m not supernatural, i’m just a regular person. you’d just be killing a random girl.”

“the list is supernatural creatures. and you’re on it. why else would you be on it if you’re not?”

“i don’t know! i’m trying to figure it out. i swear, i’m not a werewolf, i’m not a banshee, kitsune, anything.”

you could tell he thought about it for a second. “i don’t believe you.”

“why would i lie?” he looked down at his gun then back at you. “okay good point.”

“fine. i won’t shoot you. if you tell me where your friends are.”

you sighed. “they’re in the cafeteria.” he perked up a bit. “or the library. or, actually, they may be in the gym. or they may not be here at all.”

his expression changed to that of anger, and he pointed his gun directly at your forehead, only a couple of inches from your skin.

“i’m gonna count to three, and then i’m gonna shoot you.”

you scoffed nervously. “you don’t scare me.”

he pulled back the hammer, the barrel rotating. his index finger landed on the trigger and you could feel your heart pounding.

“one.”

so many thoughts raced through your mind. you recognized that you were about to die, the thought making you want to vomit. you had so many things you wanted to say to so many people that you’d never get the chance to say. you wanted to help your friends find out who the benefactor was.

“two.”

and you realized you couldn’t. time seemed to slow down and you took a deep, shaky breath, closed your eyes, and let a tear fall.

then, suddenly, a loud bang. but you didn’t go down. instead, you felt liquid splatter on your face, and you flinched so hard your legs almost gave out. you opened your eyes to see the man in front of you with a hole in his forehead, and he collapsed.

you sputtered, blood droplets shooting through the air. you finally let yourself breathe, looking up to see stiles, an expression coated with just as much shock as yours.

“what are you doing here?” you asked, your voice cracking.

“lydia. she-she told me to come here.” he walked over to you and gripped your shoulders. “are you okay?”

you quickly nodded. “i’m not dead, so yeah. i’m good.”

he walked you over to the sink and pulled his jacket off, wetting the fabric and wiping your face. he didn’t speak, and you just stared at him until he was almost done.

“stiles.” he finally made eye contact with you, the look of anxiety still lace on his face. “are you okay?”

“yeah, of course,” he said unconvincingly.

“you just shot someone.” you looked over at the body and the pool of blood next to it. “you can’t possibly be okay.”

“i’d have rather shot someone than lost you.” you wanted to smirk at how cheesy that sounded, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

“where’d you get the gun?”

“it’s my dad’s. he keeps it in his nightstand.”

“we should call him so he doesn’t get framed for murder.” he nodded, scrambling to pull his phone out. “wait, stiles.” you reached up and gripped his hands. he looked at you. “you can talk to me. i can imagine shooting someone in the head doesn’t just roll off the shoulders very easy.”

“we can talk about it later,” he responded softly. “i have to call my dad.”

you nodded, letting him dial his number.

—

someone shook you awake, your eyes shooting open. you looked around, still in the familiar sheriff’s office. you were laying on the couch by the windows, and you must’ve fallen asleep.

you’d spent a good hour answering questions with stiles, and it was well after midnight now. you looked to your side to see stiles, who was squatting next to you.

“you ready to go?” he whispered.

“what time is it?”

“almost three.”

you nodded, swinging your feet onto the floor and stretching. you followed stiles out to his jeep after saying goodnight to his dad.

sitting in the front seats, he didn’t turn on the ignition. you turned your body to face him and just waited for him to say what he was thinking about.

“no.”

you raised your eyebrows. “no? no what?”

he shook his head. “you asked me if i’m okay. i’m not. i’m not okay. when you were asleep and i was waiting for my dad to tell us we could go, i just... i let myself think about it. i... i took someone’s life tonight. i shot someone in the head. i have someone’s blood on my hands. and, i would do the same thing over if i had to because i had to save you, but...” you reached over and rubbed his upper back with his hand. “i just can’t stop replaying me pulling the trigger in my head.”

“i know. i can imagine. but you didn’t really have a choice.”

he nodded. “i know.”

“he could’ve killed all of us if he was still alive. he wanted to know where you guys were. he could’ve killed scott, lydia, malia, any of you. what you did... it saved a lot of lives. maybe... if you try to think about it like that, it won’t be as hard to live with it.” he nodded again. “i mean this life... it’s not easy. we’re always under attack, trying not to die. it takes a toll. i mean, shit, i had a gun to my head tonight. because i’m worth almost a million dollars to someone that we don’t even know. i almost died because someone values money more than life. you defended me, stiles. you saved my life. you should at least be proud of that.”

“i am. i’m glad i was there. i just wish i could’ve done that without killing someone.”

“unfortunately that’s not always an option. tonight it wasn’t. he was gonna kill even more if he wasn’t killed.”

“i know.”

you weren’t sure what to say. you’d never dealt with this kind of situation before. so you leaned over and pressed a kiss to his temple, seemingly comforting him.

“wanna go back to my place?” you asked, yawning. “my mom is home.”

he nodded, and without another word, turned the key in the ignition, heading towards your house.

[rivers-rambles21]

The one with the flipping

Part 10 of The one where Bucky has a cute neigbour series!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader (f)

Summary | Reader and Bucky become friends after he saves her from  a creep in their apartment building. Each chapter explores a different point in their friendship - very slow burn!

Warnings | 18+ only, Smut in later chapters (this is a slow burn), swearing, unprotected sex, oral sex, (later chapters)

We’re starting to see more from The Falcon and The Winter Soldier - there are some bits taken from the show to help shape the story.

We’ll also be seeing Y/N & Bucky texting whilst he’s away

Chapter 10 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 1 | Masterlist

It didn’t feel right with Bucky away. Although he’d only been gone for just over a day you felt the void he left. Over the past few months you’d become inseparable, seeing each other every day - whether it be hitting the gym together, cooking or just hanging out.

After coming home from yet another terrible day at work, you wanted nothing more than to open a bottle of wine and binge watch TV with Bucky who was undoubtedly now your best friend. 

You were two glasses in when you heard a banging outside your apartment door. 

Stepping out into the hallway you were greeted with two cops hammering away on Bucky’s door, nearly breaking it clean off. “Excuse me, can I help you?” 

Both officers quickly spun on the spot and reached for their guns, stopping when they saw you were on your own. “Do you know the man who lives here?” 

“Yes, do you?”

“Ma’am do you know where he is?” 

“No I don’t” You lied, not trusting the two men infront of you. 

One of their radios suddenly turned on “-he’s is now in custody in Baltimore” 

Both cops nodded to one another before turning back to you. “Nevermind ma’am” 

You watched as they left as quickly as they arrived before running back into your apartment, grabbing your phone and frantically calling Bucky. You tried a few more times before stuffing your wallet into your purse and heading for the door. 

Fortunately you managed to catch a last minute flight to Baltimore after confirming with the police precinct they were holding him in . You hadn’t thought twice about going to him, your heart ached at the thought of him being confined to a cell, trapping him like an animal. 

After paying the cab driver your fare, you sprinted into the precinct heading straight for the desk. 

“Hi, you’re holding my friend Bucky -  I mean James Barnes.” You panted, tired from the sprint to the officer behind the desk.

“Who the hell are you?” 

Turning around, you came face to face with someone you instantly recognised. “Falcon” You grinned, a little bit star struck at meeting an actual Avenger. 

Sure Bucky was one too but to you he wasn’t some superhero on the evening news who fought aliens and terrorists, he was just Bucky - your friend who stole your food and listened to your never ending rants. 

Realising you hadn’t answered his question, you continued. “I’m Y/N, a friend of Bucky’s.” You extended your hand out to him which he shook. 

“Sam” He replied, releasing your hand from his. 

“The one who believes wizards are real” You joked, trying to remove the tension. 

“I’ll tell you the same thing I told the cyborg, a wizard is a sorcerer without a hat!”

“Uhuh” You laughed, rolling your eyes. “Have they said when they’ll let him out yet?” 

Sam gestured you to the seating area and sat down. “Once his therapist arrives they’ll let him out.” You sat in comfortable silence for a few moments as the busy precinct bustled around you, cops and civilians passing through constantly. 

Sam was the first to break the silence. 

“Do you want to watch a funny video?”

The first time you watched the video of Bucky jumping out of the plane you were worried sick he’d hurt himself with his terrible landing. But by the fifth time watching it you’d found it hysterical as you laughed along with Sam as you watched the video over and over again from different angles to kill the time. 

Reluctantly, you left the waiting area and headed to the restroom to relieve yourself. When you came back you were stumped to find Sam wasn’t where you’d left him. 

“Excuse me, do you know where the man that was sat there went?” You asked the officer behind the desk. 

“Therapy session” She replied, pointing towards the double doors before returning back to furiously typing on her computer. 

“Thanks” You muttered before returning back to your seat, patiently waiting. 

You didn’t have to wait for long before Sam came back with an annoyed look etched across his face. “He’ll be out in a minute” he said as he passed by you, heading for the exit. 

With a sigh of relief you stood from your seat and adjusted your clothing as you watched the door with eager eyes. 

The moment you saw him through the small windows you felt all the stress and anxiety of the day seep out of you as you saw he was relatively okay. 

Bucky must have been distracted as he didn’t notice you standing in front of him until his eyes landed on you, his mouth hanging open in shock. 

“Hey Buck” 

“Doll what are you doing here?” He asked as he strode over to you, pulling you into him in a tight hug, your face pressed against his warm chest. Your arms wound around his back, pulling him in closer, his scent overwhelming your senses. He left a kiss upon your head before pulling back slightly to look down at you, searching for answers. 

“Cops came to your apartment looking for you, and then I heard they’d got you and I just panicked. Are you okay?” Reaching up, you cupped his face in your hand, your thumb stroking his soft cheek. 

His eyes fluttered closed for a moment before he opened them again, suddenly aware of where you were. 

“C’mon lets get out of here.” Taking your hand in his, he led you out of the station and into the fresh evening air. 

A shiver ran down your spine as the cold air hit your bare arms. In your rush to go after Bucky you’d foolishly foregone a jacket. 

Instantly noticing your discomfort, Bucky dropped your hand and shrugged his jacket off and wrapped it around your shoulders, the leather swamping your form. 

“Thanks” You said shyly, Bucky merely smiled back at you in response. 

“Well I feel better” Sam’s voice broke you out of the moment as he walked up to you both. Bucky opened his mouth to respond before being interrupted by the sound of a siren and flashing lights.

“Gentlemen!” You recognised the voice from the news - the Captain America knock off. “Good to see you again.” 

You felt Bucky's hand slide down your arm to grasp your hand once again as he walked towards the imposter, angling you behind him. 

“Look, if we divide ourselves, we don’t stand a chance, you guys know that.” 

“So what do you got?” Sam asked, rolling his eyes. 

“Well the leaders name’s Karli Morgenthau. We’ve been targeting civilians who’ve been helping Karli move from place to place.”

“They geotagged a location then scrambled the signal. But our satellites have found their symbol popping up in various displaced communities all across Central and Eastern Europe.”

“We think she’s taking the medicine she just stole to one of these camps.” 

“Well, there are hundreds of those all over the planet since The Blip so I guess you’ll have to look real hard.” If it wasn’t for present company you’d have rolled your eyes at Bucky’s sarcasm.

“Good thing I have 20/20 vision, huh?”

“Where is she now, Walker? Do you know?” 

“No we don’t know Bucky. It’s only a matter of time before we find out”  

“Things are really intense for you, aren’t they Walker” Your lips twitched as you fought off a smirk.

“Take it easy. Look Walker’s right. It is imperative that we find them and stop them. But you guys have rules of engagement and all kinds of authorisations you have to get. We’re free agents. We’re more flexible. So it wouldn’t make sense for us to work with you.” 

You all turned to walk away, Bucky squeezing your hand as you did before fake Captain America stopped you in your tracks. “A word of advice then… stay the hell out of my way.” The two men turned and began to walk before Walker stopped again. “Nice to finally meet you Y/N” 

You felt Bucky tense as he turned back to the two men, his eyes glaring at them. Gently, you squeezed his hand and tugged his arm, pulling him back towards Sam, not bothering to respond to dumb and dumber. Looking down at you, he sighed before complying. 

With one last glance behind, you raised your hand as though to wave before smirking and flipping them both off instead - earning a chuckle from Sam.

A few blocks later, Sam hung back to give you and Bucky a moment alone. 

“I can’t believe you came for me doll” Bucky couldn’t keep his hands off you, he kept switching from rubbing your arms to keep you warm and tucking pieces of hair behind your ears. After the day he’d had you was a welcome sight, reminding him that not everything in his life was terrible. 

“Of course I did” You replied, confused as to why he would even doubt it. “I’d do anything for you.” Your confession came as a shock to both of you. You weren’t quite sure as to why you voiced your feelings, maybe it was the day of stress finally getting to you, or the realisation what Bucky and Sam was up to was dangerous and you feared losing him. But regardless of your reasoning, you didn’t regret saying it. 

Bucky's breath hitched as his blue eyes searched yours, looking for the moment where you’d crack a smile and make a joke out of it. But that didn’t happen. 

Gently, Bucky leant forward and pressed his lips against your forehead, lingering for a moment before pulling back. “I don’t want you getting caught up in this doll.” His right hand cradled the back of your head as his eyes sought yours, trying to memorise every part of your face, committing it to memory. 

“I’ll stay out of it, I promise. I just couldn’t bear the thought of you caged up again-” Your voice had become erratic as you processed the days events. Bucky pulled you into another hug, silencing you as he did, his metal hand rubbing up and down your back. 

“I’ll be fine y’know that right? But I have to stop these people Y/N, the serum can’t end up in the wrong hands. I need you to trust me, to trust I know what I’m doing.” 

You merely nodded in response, too caught up in the feeling of being in his arms. 

Bucky pulled away from the hug and stroked your cheek, wiping away the tears you hadn’t realised had fallen. “Cmon, where’s that smile?” 

You couldn’t resist his boyish charm and smiled back at him, although weakly. 

“Attagirl”

__________________

If you’d like to be added to the tag list let me know!

 @xpurpleglitter​

[dontcallmecarrie]

Want to let the Avengers in Downward Descending play "Fuck, Marry, Kill" (or the ace-version "Friend, Cuddle, Kill" ^^) about Justin's oh so evil Circle? Feel free not to - or to let them rant - as your mood allows

If the Avengers were to play... hmm. I'm not sure how that'd look like, actually, because Cabal's meant to be this super-secret thing they don't even know exists for the longest time. At a guess, it'd be a "Tony's rival's friend group" as a rough approximation, which ignores the fact that Justin's sky-high charisma stat means he has a lot of people he's on good terms with. Having said that...

oh, and throwing in the Winter Soldier as an option here too, even if they don't know who he is [yet].

.

Bruce:

F—"Why- what even- what kind of team-building activity is this?! Ugh, fine, okay, you do realize anything that gets my pulse past a certain point means whoever I'm with meets the Other Guy, right? Yeah. So... Tony's ex- er, I mean his rival, doesn't seem like he'd be a bad friend. So I'm picking him."

M—"Victor von Doom has diplomatic immunity, do you think he'd punch Ross if I asked him nicely?"

K—"Loki, hands down. Remember that time with the pigeons?"

.

Steve:

F—"Natasha, you know who I'm interested in, I'm not saying...that. Um, what's the other option again? Friend? Okay, sure, let's go with that, I'd...hmm. Tactically, Von Doom would be a good choice, I guess, but Hammer, most likely. Tony likes him, so."

M—"Cuddle for me, oh this is a tough one...not sure just how cuddly the Winter Soldier can be, but he's the only one other than Hammer I can stand, so him."

K—"What kind of game is this? Oh, okay. You know what? I have a bone to pick with Loki, I don't know where that music's coming from but I want it to stop. So him, I guess."

.

Clint:

F—"How'd you guys rope me into this? Oh, why the hell not...kinda curious about the Winter Soldier, not gonna lie."

M—"Hammer. Nice, responsible, reliable, good with kids, not a bad choice, right?"

K—"I will find Loki and shoot him in the ass for what he did to my last quiver, mark my words."

.

Natasha:

F— "not gonna lie, it's a tough choice. Your frien– rival, okay, stop making that face, Tony, you get what I mean— has a lot of eye candy. This is a tough one...Loki. Because shapeshifter, and yes, now stop making that face you asked, I answered."

M—"Hammer. If he were straight, he'd be a DILF by now, isn't that a given?"

K—"toss-up between Whiplash and von Doom. Low-hanging fruit, but let's be honest, those are the best tactical choices, considering."

.

Thor:

F—"Ah, you Midgardians have this game as well! Ah...well, obviously if I were to choose a friend, it would be my brother. We have had many successful adventures together in our youth, it would be truly wondrous if we could do so again."

M—"Lord Anthony's rival is truly respectable, and marriages of alliance are a time-honored tradition, are they not?"

K—"If I were to choose...the ruler of Latveria has never answered for his crimes, I suppose."

.

bonus-

Tony:

F—"Why are you guys dragging me into this? I'm not even on the team! Ugh, fine, but this is a waste of time...no, I'm not banging anyone in his friend group, I have standards. Hmm...this is probably TMI, but you asked for it: I kinda had a crush on Justin when we were kids, was part of how I started clueing into the bi thing— Steve, are you okay? You don't look so good."

M—"...you now what? Justin. We're rivals, but I also know what makes him tick, and vice versa, we've been playing this game since the preschool days. Good times, good times. Oh— seriously, Steve, do you need water or something? Some air, maybe? When's the last time you ate?"

K—"I keep hearing Caramelldansen every time I turn anything on. I don't know who introduced Loki to rickrolls, but I just wanna talk."

[mandelene]

Hi, I’m a big fan of the FACE family, especially the father/son interaction between America and England. I don’t know if you’re taking drabble prompts right now but if you are could you do one with Alfred seriously hurt/sick and Arthur doing the comforting? The setting is not important it can be nation-verse or not, I just really need some Arthur and Alfred hurt/comfort in these trying times. Thanks so much and cheers from Poland!! <3

I hope this suffices, and sorry for taking so long to get to it! 💕

Just a Little Banged Up 

Word Count: 921

He wakes to the feeling of someone petting his head—it’s warm and protective. The rest of his body feels sore and achy, like he’s been repeatedly hit with a hammer, so the soothing fingers against his scalp are a welcome distraction.

When Alfred cautiously opens his eyes, he squints against the bright lights in the ceiling, and it takes him several exhausting seconds to realize where he is. He’s in bed. In a hospital. The comforting hand belongs to Dad, who is sitting at the bedside, looking like someone has just died.

What the hell happened?

“There you are, love,” Dad says as Alfred blinks through the double vision distorting the world. “It’s all right—you’re all right.” 

He tries to speak, but even his throat hurts. He reaches up a hand to massage his neck, but that’s when he realizes he’s in a neck brace. “...What’s going on?”  

“You were in a car accident. You’ve been admitted to the hospital...We’ve all been very worried about you—Matthew and Papa just left to get some food, but they’ll be back soon,” Dad says, keeping his voice low and quiet. His hand continues its gentle strokes against Alfred’s hair.

He remembers now, but it’s a bit of a blur. He was on his way home from the gym, and a black Jeep ran a stop sign. The guy hit the driver’s side of his car, and the last thing he recalls is the sensation of being thrown to the right and feeling a giant, crushing weight on his chest.

“You’re going to recover,” Dad assures as he leans forward and presses a worried kiss against his brow.

Alfred swallows hard and grimaces against the pain. “…How bad?” 

“Two broken ribs, a concussion, whiplash, a compound fracture of your fibula in your left leg, and a myriad of bruises. You were conscious for quite some time before being taken for surgery for your leg. Do you remember any of that?”

“I don’t think so…I had surgery? Oh, man…Ughhh, my head really hurts.” 

Dad pats the knee of his uninjured leg and says, “You’re due for another dose of pain medication. Your nurse should be here any moment…It’s good to see you awake and able to hold a conversation.”

Alfred squeezes his eyes shut and can’t help but let a small groan escape him. “What happened to the car?”

“Don’t worry about that, poppet. What’s most important is that you’re going to be okay with rest and physical therapy.”

“So, I’m guessing that means it was totaled?” 

Dad sighs, and Alfred can see that he’s trying his absolute hardest not to be emotional. “Yes. To be frank, it’s a miracle you weren’t gravely injured, Alfred. You could’ve…You could’ve been killed.”

Please, don’t cry. I hate seeing you cry, especially over me, Alfred thinks. He tries to move his neck so he can look Dad in the eyes and shoot him a dumb smile, but the brace has him completely immobilized.

“I’m okay,” Alfred tells him, fighting against his own tears now. “I’m sorry for scaring everyone like that.”  

“Don’t apologize. I’m just so relieved...”

Oh, no, he can feel it coming. He’s a grown adult! He’s not going to cry. No, sir! Not today!

He bursts into tears against his will a moment later, and poor Dad tries his best to be comforting by offering him the gentlest hug possible, mindful of his ribs, neck, and head.

“It’s okay now, my dear boy,” Dad whispers, carding a hand through his hair again. “Don’t worry about a thing. Matthew, your papa, and I are going to take good care of you once you’re able to be discharged. We’re here for you.” 

“Yikes,” Alfred jokes, swiping at his tears with his right hand and then regretting it upon realizing he’s tugging on his IV. “Then, I’m definitely in big trouble.” 

Dad very lightly slaps his left shoulder to chide him. “Ungrateful brat.” 

Alfred manages a raspy laugh. “You’d know better than anyone else.” 

His nurse then comes in with his pain medication, and within just a few minutes, Alfred begins to feel a difference. The pain slowly ebbs away bit by bit, and suddenly, a feeling of intense lethargy washes over him. His eyelids flutter, and Dad gives his hand a little squeeze.

“Sleepy?” Dad asks.

“Yeah, a bit.” 

“Good—that’s from the medication. Your body needs sleep to heal, so try to rest.”

“No, I’ve gotta stay awake now that I know you let them do surgery on me. Clearly, I can’t trust you,” Alfred teases. 

Dad scoffs. “It’s not like there was a choice in the matter unless you wanted to wake up to a bone protruding from your leg!” 

“Ouch. It was that bad?”

“I’m afraid so.” 

“Gross…But kinda gnarly. Do you have pictures?” 

“Alfred!” 

 “What? I’m curious. It must have looked naaasty.” 

“Go to sleep. I don’t know why I was so concerned about you,” Dad huffs, but Alfred knows he’s not actually irritated. That’s just Dad-talk for “I love you, and I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“Okay, goodnight, Dad.” 

“Goodnight, poppet. I’ll be right here should you need anything...And no more surgeries for now.” 

“Promise?” 

“I promise.”

“Okay...Just one more thing—if I do end up spontaneously dying, tell Mattie he can’t have my PlayStation 5 because I’m taking that thing to the grave with me. Do you know how long it took me to get my hands on one? I basically had to sell my soul.” 

“Alfred!” 

“Fine, fine. I’m going to sleep.”

[ancientwastedlores]

Undone by “Darling”

REQUEST (from @november-solarstorms​): Celebrating another year of this earth being braced by Tom Hiddleston's presence! Lol. Might I make a prompt request? I feel as though it would be interesting to read from Loki's POV to explore the dynamics between him and a human female who is just as intelligent as he. She has a sharp wit and even sharper tongue. Her sarcastic and clever nature enable her to out-banter Tony Stark, the king of snark himself (may he rest in peace). But she is also just as flirtatious and salacious. She never blushes, never falters, and is incredibly clever. You can decide the nature of their encounter. Really im just in it for a good game of cat and mouse.

A/N: Okay, I had SO MUCH FUN writing this!! And yeah, this will run a bit longer than my usual fics lol. Also, there IS a Loki POV, just keep reading thaaanks <3

WARNINGS: none. 

WORD COUNT: 1,932

____________________________________________________________________

Undone by “Darling” 

17 hours and 6 white chocolate mochas later, it was finally ready - an upgraded version of Corvus Glaive’s glaive, this one spec-ed out to your fancies and requirements. It was a beast, and definitely not something Nick Fury would ever let you play around with, even if you made it. 

Satisfied with your work, you remove your safety goggles and grin at Stark, who is working on his own weapon he scavenged from the Black Order. 

‘I’m done!’ you say triumphantly, causing him to look up and groan.  ‘How did you finish before me!?’ he lowers his glasses and looks at your weapon.  ‘I’m smarter’ you say.   ‘I went to MIT’  ‘And I didn’t, yet here we are, both in the same lab’. 

He shakes his head, not unlike a petulant child, causing you to laugh. 

‘How far along are you?’ you ask.  ‘Still running diagnostics’.  ‘Still!?’  ‘Have you seen the size of his hammer?’ he gestures to Cull Obsidian’s chain hammer on his work table, but the innuendo doesn’t escape you and you grin at him. He facepalms. ‘Y/n, for god’s sake...’  ‘You’re just tired, or you’d appreciate the joke too’. 

You stretch your weary body and let out a deep breath. You’d test the weapon out tomorrow, but for now, you need a nap. 

‘Take a load off, Stark. Hammer’ll be there tomorrow’.  ‘Oh, you’d like that wouldn’t you...’ he puts his goggles back on and get to work. 

xx

Loki’s POV: 

Humans are surprising, but I always knew that. I never thought them boring, even if my brother says I do. Humans are of so little power but such incredible resilience that it’s frankly astonishing. I am inclined to believe that sometimes resilience is just stupidity... in most cases, I am right. But that’s not to say I haven’t come across some truly brave people. 

Take the Avengers Tower, for example. 

Just in here, you have Y/n, a brave soldier with the mind of an intergalactic scavenger, and I do mean that as a compliment. She’s awfully clever, she can build better than Stark, and has a track record of finishing every mission to perfection and before time. And then you have the Super Soldier Steve Rogers, a big muscled, big hearted idiot who often mistakes challenging our enemies for bravery and morality. 

The two couldn’t be more different, but they get along like siblings. Not siblings like Thor and I... better adjusted, perhaps. 

They sit in front of me, talking about some mission while they play Chess. Her moves are quick but calculated, his take more time because he’s more interested in telling his story than playing the game. 

‘...so there I am, no weapons, no shield, bang in the middle of the Serpent Citadel...’ 

He’s a good storyteller, I’ll give him that. But not as good as Y/n. She paints quite a picture, full of delicious gory details and horribly dark jokes. 

‘Steve, you have to pay attention, you’re losing’ she says.  ‘Yeah, I don’t actually know how to play chess, I just wanted you to listen to my story’. 

She looks up at him, almost offended. ‘STEVE...’  ‘Cool, I’m gonna go wrap Stark into a game of Battleships and tell him about my fight with Copperhead’. 

She laughs as he leaves the room, and she puts the chess pieces away. 

‘We could play?’ I ask her.  ‘Is the God in a mood to lose?’  ‘Over confidence isn’t attractive in anybody’. ‘Oh darling, neither is telling someone what is and isn’t attractive’. 

She’s never called me that before, and in the context it should seem cutting, but it isn’t. ‘Darling?’  ‘Problem?’  ‘It’s quite a term of endearment to set someone straight’. 

She says nothing. 

‘Cat got your tongue?’ I tease her. She only smiles and continues putting the pieces away neatly. Stark’s chess set is gold and black, all individually carved pieces. The pawns are all Iron Man suits, but that’s to be expected. She handles them with the care Stark would. 

‘I mean...’ I continue, ‘honestly, if someone heard, they’d never let you live it down’. 

And she carries on, unbothered. 

‘Y/n!’  ‘Oh dear, look at you come completely undone with just one term of endearment’ she comments, shutting the chess set. ‘Whatever would happen if I held your hand?’ 

The very thought of it seemed to drain my brain of blood. I unwillingly glanced at her hands, working the lock mechanism of the box, her blue veins prominent. 

‘Cat got your tongue?’ she asked. 

I stood up, the human emotion of embarrassment becoming too familiar for me. ‘I’ll have to see you at lunch’.  ‘Sure, darling’. 

Oh, I hate how she’s enjoying this. 

----------

The next day, Y/n booked a training room to test out the Glaive, and Stark had a rusty but working chain hammer. Steve insists on trying it out anyway, and now our breakfast is being spent on discouraging him from doing that. 

‘Guys... if nothing else, I’ll still have my shield. Let me test it out!’  ‘Y/n’s glaive cuts through Vibranium, you know that, right?’ Stark says.  ‘Y/n wouldn’t do that’. ‘Oh yes she would’ Y/n says nonchalantly as she sinks her teeth into a bacon and egg sandwich. 

As she does, the yolk runs down her fingers. She makes a sound at the inconvenience and sets the sandwich down, then grabs a napkin. I’m hardly ever crude, but the energy it took not to take her hand and lick off the yolk myself could burn every star in the galaxy. 

Captain America scrunches his nose at her remark, severely offended. 

‘In any case, that shield barely covers your giant body. It will force Stark to make you a new one’.  ‘What do you care about his giant body’ Stark says.  ‘It’s America’s ass, Tony’ she takes a sip of her iced coffee. Steve blushes, and Tony rolls his eyes. 

----------

The training facility is magic, of course, somewhere between a mirror dimension and Wanda’s reality powers creating a safe cocoon inside the building so no one can be harmed. Y/n hardly trusted anybody to fight with her except Thor, but given the nature of Corvus’ Glaive, she knew magic would be required. 

And so she called me. 

After getting into my battle armour, I stepped into the facility, equipped with my sceptre and the teachings of the witches of Asgard. 

She whistles as I walk in. ‘Trying to distract me from killing you?’  ‘Are you?’ I ask. She’s dressed in a black bodysuit, details of purple in her belt and weapon harnesses.  ‘Why yes, I am. Glad you noticed’. 

The glaive is on the floor, and she stomps her foot on one part of it so it swivels up and neatly places itself in her hand. She smiles. 

‘Try to keep up. I’m not just looking for eye candy in a training partner, darling’ she says, getting into battle stance. 

With nothing left to say for the second time this week, I aim the sceptre at her and the stone at the end glows. 

She charges and I shoot at her, but she spins the glaive and creates a shield which absorbs the energy. 

She continues to charge at me. I shoot again, and again the glaive takes the hit. Not a scratch on her. 

Once she comes closer, she simply places the flat end of the weapon against my chest, sending me hurtling back into a wall. 

She spins the glaive and laughs. 

‘Compliments of Wakanda. It absorbs any hits and charges up with kinetic energy’. 

I get up on my feet. This is far from over. I create multiple illusions to surround her, all of them brandishing knives, Chitauri tech, and sceptres. 

‘Damn, suddenly my whole evening has opened up’ she says, looking around.

Even my clones look around at each other puzzled. 

‘Come on then, who’s up?’ she spins the glaive around. ‘One at a time or all at once, baby’. 

They charge at her, and I expected her to fight them off at once... instead she plants the staff on the ground and ducks, and a semi-circle shell grows from the top of the staff, down to the floor... like a mini fortress, completely impenetrable. It could, no doubt, continue to take hits and build up kinetic energy, so I call off the clones. 

She gets up and retracts the shell. ‘Nanotech’ she grins at me. ‘The whole shell sits in a disk. It can withstand bombs and even a moon’.  ‘Is there any tech you haven’t adopted?’  ‘I’m an intergalactic scavenger, aren’t I?’ 

I stare at her, horrified. Can she read minds? 

‘Maybe I can. Or maybe I heard you tell Stark when he was complaining about me finishing my weapon first’. 

Silence. 

‘Also, darling, you’re awfully predictable in your fighting’. 

She picks up every trick and tech she sees, so beating her is less about weapons and more about cunning. 

No problem. Cunning is my specialty. 

‘Ready now?’ she asks.  ‘Mhm’. 

She takes a deep breath to ready herself, her eyes shutting slightly. Once they open back up, she stares in shock. 

In my Jotun form, I give her my most menacing smile.

She cocks her head to the side, studying my icy blue skin. 

The illusion I cast of myself approaches behind her, dagger in hand. Once it’s close enough and I can almost taste my victory, she raises the glaive and in one swift motion, sticks it into its abdomen. 

The illusion disappears into green light. 

‘Cute’ she remarks. She points the glaive at me. ‘What else you got for me?’  I shift back to my Asgardian form and sigh. ‘You win’. 

Y/n laughs and lowers her weapon. ‘Oh darling, I won the second you walked in wearing all that leather’. She winks at me, then walks out of the facility. I feel a blush creep to my face, much against my will. 

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

‘Maybe you should stick to your guns, Tony’ Y/n says, ‘Fancy suits is it for you, chain hammers may be overshooting it’.  ‘Is that what they taught you in the back alley you learnt ironmongery from?’  ‘Yes! Do you want their number, I’m sure they’ll have a spot on the waiting list for you’. 

Ah. Y/n’s relationship with Stark seemed more like mine with Thor. While they banter, Steve and Natasha tear up from laughing. I wouldn’t go so far as to call this domestic, but it certainly is comfortable. 

‘Come on, the glaive can’t be that good, right Loki?’ Stark asks. 

The company looks at me expectantly. ‘To say her weapon isn’t good enough means to insult your own tech, Stark. Everything about it is founded on your theories’. 

‘So technically, it’s my brain that made the glaive so cool’ he tells Y/n.  ‘Yeah, you could say that. The glaive comes from the same mind that manufactured Captain America’s dinner plate’. 

Steve doesn’t find that one funny, but Natasha does, sending her into peals of laughter. 

‘Oh whatever’ Tony huffs. ‘I’m going back to the lab’. 

He stands up and Y/n grabs his arm. ‘Aww Tony, I’m just kidding!’ she pats his hand, ‘Look, you’re a brilliant inventor, we all have our slow days’. 

He sighs and nods, and holds her hand. ‘Thanks... I guess I’m just not in my element, you know?’  ‘Yeah...’ she keeps patting his hand. 

And the feeling of domesticity creeps in. We really are all a family. Y/n smiles encouragingly at Tony, and Tony seems more relaxed. 

‘So, you want me to get you the number of that ironmongery, or...?’  ‘OH FOR...’ he snatches his arm away and storms out of the room, with Steve and Nat losing it all over again. 

___________________________________________________________

Ah this was so fun!!!!!!!! I hope you guys liked it <3 

MASTERLIST HERE

ASK BOX OPEN FOR FIC REQUESTS. Find GUIDELINES HERE.

[ao3bronte]

🌈🎸LUKANCIEL HEADCANONS🌈🎸

<< [PART 2]

It’s August now and Paris is sweltering. Marc and Luka lay sprawled on the wood floors of Luka’s bedroom drinking Coca-Cola and working on their respective projects. Marc is responding to comments on his latest Catradora fic and Luka is finagling with the reverb on yesterday’s recording of ‘Truth & Lies’. They’re both so caught up with what they’re working on that Marc doesn’t even realise that Luka’s taken off his shirt until ten minutes later when he gets up to turn the fan on high.

Luka hears the vibe in the room shift and sets his iPad to the side, peering up between his bangs at his dark haired friend. He’s redder than the hoodie hanging from Luka’s porthook and Luka realizes belatedly that it’s probably because of him.

“Sorry,” he says, reaching back over to grab his Jagged Stone tee from where he’d tossed it. “I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomforta—”

“It’s-it’s fine,” Marc squeaks, shoving his stylus in his mouth to keep himself from making any more embarrassing noises. Luka finds it oddly endearing and vaguely realises that he has a type. “It’s y-your room after—after all.”

“It’s just so hot.” Luka grimaces when his skin unsticks from the shellacked floor with an awful squelch. “I’ll grab a tank.”

“Y-you don’t have to.” Marc swallows the lump in his throat and tugs at the choker around his neck. “I don’t...um. I don’t mind.”

Luka might not be great at communicating, but he’s spent long enough watching the way Juleka and Rose act around each other to know what this is. “Are you sure?”

“Very.”

Luka’s lips curl into a mischievous smirk. “Should I take off my jeans too?”

He most definitely deserves the red hoodie being thrown into his face a second later.

They dance around each other after that. Luka’s intrigued at the way his brain is suddenly noticing the slender length of Marc’s fingers and immediately regrets helping him repaint his nails. Having Marc’s hand in his causes Marc all sorts of grief by the looks of him as they sit stiffly on Luka’s bed, and Luka’s starting to wonder if Juleka is right about him having a bisexual crisis.

Luka has to do something. The tension between them is thicker than the cloud of smog hovering over the sweltering city and Marc seems like he can barely breathe, let alone say what’s on his mind.

“Do you want to kiss me?” Luka immediately regrets it the second he says it, hating the way he sounds so ridiculously blunt. Why can’t he use words like he uses his fingers to wring love songs from his fretboard?

“What?” Marc’s entire body jerks away from him, nearly knocking the bottle of polish out of Luka’s fingers. “No? I mean—yes? I mean, of course I do! Look at you!” Marc gestures widely at Luka’s bare chest, wet nails be damned. “You’re like Apollo! You play guitar like you’re trying to make love with the strings and it’s killing me and I don’t know what to do because you’re not gay and you’re not even my type!”

Luka forcibly has to force his jaw closed. “Who says I’m not gay?”

Marc blinks. “You dated Marinette.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m not bi.” Luka screws the lid of the polish back onto the neck of the bottle. “And what do you mean, I’m not your type?”

“You’re—I mean.” Marc reverts back to flailing his arms in his general direction. “You’re tall and handsome and you have really nice arms and your back—oh god, when your guitar strap settles between your shoulder blades—” Marc tries to gain back his composure and fails miserably. “You’re just—you know, you wouldn’t know I’m a writer by listening to me right now.”

Luka laughs. “Hold your nails in front of the fan before you ruin them.”

“Good idea.” Marc exhales, then turns his back to him. Luka slowly gets off the bed and carefully laces his thumbs through Marc’s belt loops, giving him plenty of time to move or say something to stop him. Instead, Marc releases a shaky breath and leans back against his chest. The crown of Marc’s head fits perfectly beneath Luka’s chin and Luka worries that Marc will be able to feel his hammering heartbeat through his tie-dyed shirt.

“I think they’re dry,” Marc whispers after a few minutes, comfortably accustomed to the way Luka has relaxed behind him. Marc feels protected in a strange, exhilarating way. He had no idea he was into broader, taller guys but now that he has one pressed against him, Marc can’t help but thrill at what might happen next.

“Well?” Luka hums and Marc shudders at the way his voice rumbles against his spine. Marc slowly turns around, Luka’s thumbs dislodging from the waist of his jeans at the movement, and tips his chin up to see exactly what he’s up against.

“You asked me if I wanted to kiss you.” Marc draws his lower lip between his teeth for a moment before willing himself to speak. “I want to, but only if you’re okay with it.”

“I am.” Luka wishes he knew what else to say to make this sound more romantic or something, but his words seem to do the trick regardless. Marc rises on his toes and Luka bends down to meet him halfway, their lips brushing with the kind of promise that has Luka reaching out before he can stop himself. Hands now firmly anchored to his friend’s waist, Luka nudges him closer and drinks his fill.

Eyes closed, Luka loses himself in the texture, the taste, the sound of Marc as he sinks into his embrace and kisses him properly, well acquainted with the subtle art of kissing him senseless. Marc has a lot more experience than him but Luka makes up for it in enthusiasm, letting his body react eagerly to every sigh and kiss and caress of his tongue. Luka moans as Marc seems to push his every button like an expert, guiding him towards the wall step by step. Marc clearly wants to be captured and Luka’s desire to claim burns in his veins like an addiction, kissing him senseless.

They kiss and explore their newfound feelings, heedless to the world around them. Luka can feel the songs being written with every caress and burning touch of skin, searing in its intensity. He loves this — knows it down to the marrow of his bones — and can feel something incredible on the cusp of creation.

The minutes pass like seconds and they’re already half gone by the time they both realise that there’s more between them then the music they’re making together. Luka pulls away with a gasp and Marc grins back mischievously. It’s definitely the beginning of a beautiful relationship.

fin.

[pieces-by-me]

Strangers on the Road

Gif by the lovely @honestsycrets​ 

Words: 2605

Summary: Goodness can be found everywhere. Even for a stranger on a strange road.

Warnings: mentions of ablism

Kinda feel like this is not that good and lost inspiration at the end but I didn’t want to just delete the whole thing. Would love to hear what you all think of this✨

The Silk Road was a lot of things but never boring. People would meet from west to east to bargain about jewels, exotic foods, animals, slaves and as the name says silk. Anything you could ever need you could find on the Silk Road.

There was a market place. Close to the border where sand meets snow. It was colder here. The sun not having enough warmth to burn you, but still keep you a bit warmer. The market was not the biggest but the last one you would find for miles before the terrain changes from rocky mountaintops to frost covered grounds. Hundreds of people scuffled about to find the best goods. Different prices were being called around the area by the handlers to make the travelers come to their small stalls and seats. Many big men would shout at the top of their lungs. Some women would walk about and thrust their fabric in peoples faces. Anything to make yourself and your worth known.

One small stand, it was so tiny you might not even call it that, was at the end of the market. At first sight one couldn't even see what was presented for trade or purchase. But the closer you came the more you saw. Small clay pots with lids on them, little bowls with salves and a basket filled with weirdly looking dried leafs. Medicine.

The young women behind her small stall made herself useful by cleaning small crumbs of dirt from her pots. Smiling at buyers that walked by and greeting the once that came to her.

Y/N may not have a lot of supply but the demand was high. So the little she had she could sell for more then some other merchants. With made her life a little easier. But even if she sold everything each day she would still scrape at the ends of her revenues. It's only enough for her to live each day. Which was fine. She didn't have anyone she needed to support. Her parents died when she was young and she never had any siblings. So anything she made was for herself.

It wasn't easy at the beginning. Having to collect plants in a mountains was not an easy task. Walking miles upon miles into the nearest forrest for maybe an hour just to run back as soon as the sun went down. It would be a death sentence to walk on the Silk Road at night as a little girl. And Y/N had to start make a living for herself at a young age. But she managed. The knowledge she inherited from her mother helped her a lot. As soon as she found the little round leafs buried under the snow she knew she could survive.

They weren't just normal weeds. If you cooked them they would make a tea that would help with the biggest pains. If you chewed them raw you could help your teeth stay strong. And when you stomp them together with with goat fat and a specific snake venom it would help heal wounds in half the time. That was her biggest seller. It was hard to come by. Having to milk her snakes herself and trading things for goat fat took time. Every time she made it it would sell out in seconds and it would be worth it.

Today was like every other day. Waking up. Skipping breakfast to open the stall. Standing your feet into the ground for the day. Closing up. Making preparations and tinctures for the next day. Sleep.

Y/N knew nothing else so she was happy with it. Every day she would stand between Bran the forger, the nice guy that couldn't really stand anymore due to an old injury he obtained in a fight, and Lorah the jewel seller, a hardheaded women with to many opinions and a need to gossip. It was noisy between the constant banging on metal and women's chattering about the best new stones or quality of an arm ring. But it was her little place and she couldn't imagine standing somewhere else on the market.

The sun stood high in the sky when, for the first time in years, something changed. A lot of different people would travel the Silk Road to trade and buy. Different people from different places of the world praising different gods and coming around with the weirdest foods. But never in all her years had Y/N seen a cripple being carted through the market.

He was not hard to spot. The wagon he was sitting in was a big telltale. There weren't a lot of people with carts like that. The next thing she spotted were his legs. Two legs in metal braces. They looked old and rusted, as if they were about to fall apart. And then, the last sign of the stranger were his eyes. Y/N only caught them for a second but the shade of blue that pierced though hers was something she had never seen before. They were clearer then Lorah's jewels. Bluer then the sky. She could have looked into them for the whole day and never would tire.

“What in all the lords name is that?”

The disgusted voice of Lorah snapped the young woman out of her staring. She looked at the cripple with so much hate it seems he had killed her first born child.

“What do you mean? He's just traveling through here.”

Bran voiced his thoughts.

“I can see that you old fool. The question is why is it even here in the first place. It should not be here.”

“He's not a thing. He's human just like you.”

Y/N small voice grew colder then what it usually was when she talked to the women. She didn't like the tone and words her stall neighbor used for the stranger.

“Y/N dear you're young and naive. Human puh. No we are humans, you and me. Bran even. But the likes of...him should have died right after the birth. See the legs. They're crippled and wrong. We used to bring them outside to die when children like it were born. It's not natural. It's evil and bad and must be banished from the world.”

Y/N was shocked. She knew that Lorah was opinionated on a lot of things and that she would stand for her word. But this? How could she decide that this men should have died when he was a babe? What kind of monster could decide who lives and dies just by the way they were born?

“How can you truly think that? Your jewels might be beautiful but your heart is ugly Lorah.”

“I'm not the only one with that knowledge little witch. You'll see. That creature will not get anything from the people here on this market.”

Witch. Lorah knew that Y/N was called that behind her back and that she didn't like it. But she was rather a witch then heartless. She turned around to face the evil women once more but was met with nothing. Lorah must have stormed away in believe of having the last sentence and won the argument. Pathetic.

“Let her be Y/N. She sometimes seems as evil but she has truth to her words. The poor man won't find anyone to trade with him. He looks like he will travel farther east and probably die in the cold. Crippled people don't make it far in life. It's a wonder he made it this far. God must've be kind to him.”

“There are a lot of people here who will trade with anyone. They need the money and don't care if he's a cripple or not. And screw your God Bran. Your God would want me to burn alive for simply knowing some herbs.”

The clanging from bended metal was the only answer she'd get from the smith. Maybe she shouldn't have insulted his believe. Whats done is done.

Movement from the stranger caught her eyes again. He was making his way out of the cart with the help from a crutch. Also looking as if it would fall apart. Something was off about him though. His motions looked ragged. Tugging, almost as if his muscles would give out. She looked at him and again her eyes met his. This time she could see that not only the color of his eyes were blue but also the whites around them. Pain.

She knew what blue whites meant. In her live she met some men that came back from battle with light blue colored eyes. And they always proclaimed to be in the worst kind of pain they've ever felt. Him walking around with his crutch you wouldn't see that he felt pain with every step he took. It could simply be hard to walk on this ground. But she knew. And her heartstrings pulled tighter at the picture of this man struggling to only get food or whatever it is he needs.

Y/N hadn't realized how close the stranger has come. He was close enough to see the goods that were sprawled out on her little table and for her to see that there was a silver of a necklace peaking through his tunic. It looked like a hammer and she recognized it immediately. Nothing interested him though for he just walked by her without a glance. But she couldn't let that stand. Back in her head she searched for the old language her father tried to teach her. It was hard but she managed. She turned to him and with little confidence she called.

“Stranger”

That made him halt in his step. Turning around he met her eyes. This time on purpose. His eyes were filled with a sort of anger and he answered to fast with too many words for her to understand.

“Please, talk slower”

“How do you know my language?” It came out more of an demand then a question.

“My father thought me.”

“But why did he teach you Norse. You don't look like a Viking.”

Her answer came after a short minute but with a small smile on her face.

“I'm not Viking. But my father was friends with some. Back when he was alive.”

That made the stranger pause again. He was considered what she told him. You could see it.

“What is your name?” This time it was a question.

“Y/N and yours?”

He hesitated. Should he tell this woman who he was? Could it come back and bite him in the ass if he told the truth?

“You don't have to tell me. It's not of my buisn..”

“Ivar”

His interruption made her to stumble over her words but after she heard that he told her his name her small smile grew larger. Ivar had to say she had a nice smile. And she was the first one to start a conversation with him and not the other way around.

“Well Ivar, is there something you might need that I can help you with?”

“No, I'm looking for food and you only sell weird looking porridge.”

Her smile didn't falter. “Well I don't have food but you can buy something six stalls to your right. Bella sells the best and cheapest dates on the whole road. Also if you say that I send you she will probably give you more for your money. But here please take this”

With the last words she turned around, ducked behind her stall and when she came up again she held a small brown pouch filled with dried leafs inside a yellow cup.

Ivar looked at her with skepticism. Why would this weird, yet beautiful, women talk to him and then also help him?

“I don't have enough gold to pay for...whatever that is. And why would you help me with food when you would gain nothing in return?”

“I don't want your gold. I just want to help. I see the way your eyes are blue and I know that you are in pain. So why wouldn't I help you when I can? Also Bella owns me one for making medicine for her son so it's nothing really”

Y/N held the pouch still in her hands but with the missing answer form Ivar her smile fell just a little. But she wouldn't take no, or the lack of one, as an answer. So with a little smirk that looked more mischievous than the smile she held before she threw the little bag to the side of him that didn't hold him up on his crutch.

With a startled look, as if he was expecting a knife, he caught the bag. The stare he threw back at her made her laugh so hard even on Bran's face grew on. He observed the weird interaction between the two even though he couldn't understand a word they'd said. He hand't seen Y/N laugh and smile for a long time.

“Well now it's yours and I don't take returns” Her voice matched her smile and after a moment to overcome his initial shock Ivar smiled back. And Y/N swore her heart skipped a beat.

“Fine... then as it seems that I am stuck with this..would you explain to me what I have to do with it?” His smile was a little dimmed but still on his face.

“You'd have to boil the leafs for a while and then drink it slowly. Little sips. And no more then one cup.” She gave him the cup too and he hid both of her gift somewhere in his robe.

They held eye contact. Knowing that their interaction would be over soon. Him still plagued with hunger and her with the need to sell more of her goods, now that she gifted some away. But neither wanting to let the other go. Y/N was the first person since he fled Kattegat that was actually nice to him. She treated him like a person and not ogled at him like the freak he was. Well as the freak he saw in himself.

And Ivar was the first men that made her laugh and made her truly feel happy for a little while. She could forget the struggle of having to be alone in this world. She would miss him. Even though they only knew each other for an hour she would truly miss this stranger with the blue eyes.

And what she didn't know was that Ivar would miss and think of her for the rest of his journey. He would see her act of kindness a far greater thing then just a small favor. And her laugh would bring him warmth when he went into the snow filled forests.

“Thank you” His small voice was filled with honesty.

“You are more then welcome. I wish you all the luck and that your gods help you on your journey”

He hadn't expected to hear that but it brought him a little bit of hope. If the gods made him meet her he was on the right path.

He only bowed his head a little, a sheepish smirk on his face, and made his way away from her and to the mentioned stall from Bella. Dates sounded magnificent right now.

Ivar vanished in the masses of people but her smile stayed on her face.

“Well someone is a little smitten”

“Ah shut up Bran” 

Her insult was met with laughter from the old forger.

__________

Tags: @youbloodymadgenius​

[tintentrinkerin]

adelphopoiesis

Author: tintentrinkerin

Title: adelphopoiesis

Requested by: @schaefchenherde

Header by: @wincestismyheart​

Divider by: @firefly-graphics​

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Demon!Dean x Sam

Warnings: Blood and Gore, Sam Drinks Dean’s Demon Blood, Anal Sex, Not Canon Compliant

Content: Chasing your baby brother around the bunker with a hammer is fun, right? But what if you tickle his thing for blood?

Read here or on AO3

Dean’s most effective weapon is not the hammer he destroyed the door with. The hammer that’s stuck in the wall now beside Sam’s head. It’s not his physical strength, radiating like utter heat from his body, showing in the tension of his neck, the firm grimace of his mouth, his pretty mouth. It’s not the First Blade. A blade powerful enough to kill anything and anyone, but Dean himself. 

Sam’s only weapon is a lousy knife. A demon knife, that will barely leave a scratch on a Knight of Hell. 

“It’s all you”, Dean says, leaning in the knife, leaning into Sam’s half hearted attack. 

The way Dean looks at his brother, it’s tearing Sam apart in so many ways. Ways he thought he’d buried under guilt and hunts and lore and his shame. Sam gives in and takes the knife away, he will regret it so bitterly, he knows. Of course he knows. He can’t even lay a single finger on Dean. The demon in front of him wears the face of his brother but there is nothing left of his soft side for Sam. His voice, how he calls Sam, how he says Sammy, the hair, the determined look, the tongue against his teeth. Like he’s a predator and Sam’s the prey. 

Dean’s eyes turn black.

It’s a whooshing sound and it darts Sam’s ears the moment he thought he’d surrender and then, the First Blade, fast as an arrow lands in Dean’s hand. There is not a blink for Sam to react before Dean looks at him with a triumphant smirk. The knife glides through Dean’s smooth skin of his throat like it’s warm butter. Blood spills. 

Blood

Spills

Blood is Dean's most effective weapon.

Its smell is so familiar, so luring. So intimate and so…powerful. Sam turns and runs. He needs to go. He needs to get away. 

“Oh Sammy, baby brother, don’t run away!”, Dean mocks. 

Shit, he’s right behind Sam and Sam’s judgement clouds already. He isn’t even fast. It feels like running through molasses. The air feels thick and strong, pressing Sam down, and the smell of iron and lust and Dean, oh my God, it’s Dean’s blood! - He needs to get away! Sam manages to worm through the destroyed door to the electrical room, but he catches several splinters. Some even bite his face and he gets stuck with the cast of his elbow. Spraining the right elbow, why, Sam, why did that happen? Everything’s against him. 

Memories of Ruby appear in his head. Of the smell, the taste, her body, the sex. The grunting and the mind blowing orgasm, the banging against walls everywhere they went. The power, the trip. His increasing power, a stimulant better than any human known drug. It resonates all within him with the odor of Dean’s musk and his blood. He can smell its potential, its strong taste. Sam even imagines how it would make him feel. Running away never felt so hard like right now. He remembers the withdrawal and the pain behind his eyes blinds him as he trips in the hallway and tumbles against a wall. Stinging pain in his arm, in his head and his legs feel heavy. It’s like he has Dean’s breath in his neck all this time. Even though he can’t hear him come close at all. It sounds like Dean is far away, in another world. 

“Come on, Sammy, I know you want a sip of it. Makes you all giddy, doesn't it? I can smell you. All of you.”

Sam yells something, but he can’t even make out what he says. 

“Keep runnin’ if you must, but you know I gotta find you sooner or later. It’s my home, too!”

The alarm is blaring again and Sam has no idea how far he can run. There won’t be any walls that might hold Dean back. He’s regaining strength, the human blood wears off. Even that Sam can smell. How much stronger Dean gets with every minute. 

“I taste delicious, Sammy. Just fuckin’ delicious.”

Oh, yes, Sam bets he does, that’s exactly why he needs to keep running. The smell gets even more intense now and Sam wonders how much Dean can cut himself up with the First Blade. He should’ve given the damn thing to Crowley when he had the chance to do so. 

“Stay away”, he croaks. 

There’s another hallway, one leading deep into the intestines of the Forbidden Bunker, how Dean and him called it jokingly, when they discovered it. An area full of locked doors made of the weirdest materials. Only one chance is left for Sam, when he finds that one door he unlocked in these months without Dean. He had learned a lot about witchcraft since Dean left this note on his bed, when he left Sam for Crowley and a life as a demon. When the only way to save himself from Dean was to hide himself in a panic room again, hallucinate again, he would have to do it. He rather sees Lucifer again, Mary, Bobby, all the victims they couldn’t save than to fall for Dean’s lure. Drink his own brother’s blood. This was perverted, disgusting, twisted. Even for them. The monster hunters, the monster fuckers, the monsters themselves. 

“The longer you run, the harder I bleed, brother!”

Sam tries every door on the way, but none opens. Sam’s eyes sting from the smell. What the hell is Dean doing? Covering the walls in blood? That would be insane. Even Dean would faint at one point. It must be impossible to drain a body so much before it dies. Dean isn’t possessing a body, he still has his own, whatever that means for him and his physis then. Sam trips again, he falls, on his right arm of course. He tears up from the pain that fills his chest, his arm, his shoulder. He can’t survive that long if doesn’t find a hide-out. 

It seems to be near, because Sam still can read the signs on the doors and when he finds room 616, he pushes the door open with a long and agonizing cry and slams it shut. It’s the door he unlocked already, a room, bleak as an empty tomb. Cold and pitchblack, there’s no electrical light, just candles, but Sam won’t be able to find them. He can just hide in here, pressed against a wall, praying to Castiel, to Hannah. He even cries for Crowley inside, someone needs to help him. 

Footsteps.

The smell of blood. The First Blade scraping on the tiles, Sam knows it’s that. 

“Gotcha! I really thought you’d be a bit cleverer than that. Where’s the fun when you cage yourself like a mouse?”

The door bursts open, way too easily. None of the sigils and runes seem to be an obstacle for Dean. And when light shines in the room and Sam can see not only Dean’s silhouette but also his face, he knows. Dean is covered in his own blood. His face, his slit throat, still pumping blood in long and rhythmic spurts from the wound. His arms are drenched in blood and now, with a biting smile, Dean looks at Sam and the Blade carves an S in Dean’s arm. 

“Come here, Sammy. Come to your big bro and lemme get you something real good

The stench is so intense now that Sam first vomits in violent jerks and then faints. The last thing he sees before the world turns completely black is Dean’s triumphant, sweet smile and his eyes. His normal green eyes. 

When Sam awakes again, he is tied up. Bound to a chair. They’re in the dungeon again, how did Sam come here? His head aches like it’s been run over by a stampede of bulls and his mouth tastes like vomit and blood. He tenses immediately as he’s present enough to realize his situation. Dean has tied him up here, and now he’s sitting on the desk in one corner, right beside the blood donor box that Sam got from the hospital. His legs swing and he hums a strange melody. 

“Oh, look who’s up.”

Dean jumps on his feet. Sam can see the First Blade, the damn Blade, resting on the table. Then Dean takes the syringes of human blood and starts spilling them. 

“You won’t need them anymore, Sammy. I think I won our little chase.”

“Dean, don’t do that… please. I can still…”

Dean hisses. His eyes turn black.

“You can still what, brother dearest? I already told you. I am what I am now, I am free. I’m finally free. Of humanity. I’m strong now. Efficient. Deadly.”

Sam winces when he moves in the ties. The ropes cut in his flesh and Dean removed the sling on his arm. His elbow hurts so much, it’s taking his words away. 

“You were deadly before already. The Mark made you powerful.” 

“But guess what, I’m even better now. Dean Winchester 2.0 - I’m all in for my upgrade. You see it as a bad thing, but what I see is … potential. Chances. Oh Sammy, I can conquer the world. Hell. Heaven. You really want the boring Dean back, huh?”

Sam shakes his head but that makes him feel dizzy, he stops.

“I want my brother back. The brother I loved.”

Dean’s black eyes target Sam like he’s prey again and he hates being looked at like this. It makes him feel less human, less Dean’s brother.

“I am your brother. Nothing ever changed that. But I told you to stay away from me, I told you not to look for me. But you did. You plotted against me, with Crowley, with Cas. You tied me up in this chair, you tortured me with human blood. Against my will. For someone who’s all over the place with autonomy and respecting boundaries you violated mine just perfectly.”

Sam squirms. The problem is that Dean is right. But Sam did it for the greater cause, didn’t he? Dean becoming human again was the best for everyone!

“You make me sound like the bad guy here, that’s not fair”, Sam mutters.

Dean laughs and it’s a deep, rough laugh that makes Sam’s skin crawl. This is so much Dean, even darker than usual. And it shakes Sam to the core. 

“Good, bad… Who cares. Human categories, bullshit. Nothing’s fair, Sam.”

“I need something to drink”, Sam says faintly now. 

He won’t make Dean untie him, that’s for sure, but maybe Cas will come to the rescue soon, he can maybe delay things. Also he needs to get rid of the taste of old blood in his mouth. Dean doesn’t reek of his blood that bad anymore, Sam is very much aware of the pink line across Dean’s throat. A scar. The blade will cause scars. Or at least the weapon delays even Dean’s healing. 

Dean smiles. 

“Sure. But why waste water on you when I kill you anyway?”

Sam’s heart sinks.

“Will you?”

Dean shrugs as if he doesn’t give a shit at all.

“Thinking about it. But you’re my brother, as you keep on reminding me. Maybe I should give you a chance to redeem yourself in my eyes and let you live?”

“And how would you do that?”, Sam asks, winding in his ties. 

Dean goes away. Doesn’t say another word. Sam is stunned and damn, holy shit, he’s afraid. Dean will kill him. But what is it with the possibility of letting him live?

The smell of iron. Like a perfume, soft and silky. No. No no no.

“Dean? Dean!”, Sam cries and fights the restraints harder.

He did it again. He slit his fucking throat, Sam knows it. And this time, he won’t be able to run, he won’t be able to fight back. He’s tied up, he’s in pain, he’s weak. It’s not like with the other hunters who wanted to force him to drink demon blood. He could fight them off, but now?

Emaciated. Sick. Depressed. A broken arm. Hungry. Tied up. The addiction is pulsating through his veins, giving him the chills. It’s hot and cold at the same time. Like crackling in the air, the heavy scent of blood and Dean, he can only say no.

Dean won’t take a no, why should he? He’s a Knight of Hell. Sam is human. His brother is back, his throat cut deep enough to see the structures of muscles, veins, nerves, his trachea, the pulsing blood. Sam vomits all over his shirt, but there’s not much left except bitter, yellow gall. 

“You’re sick, huh?”, Dean coos in a voice like he did when Sam was younger. It’s meant for comfort but now it just feels like mockery and Sam wonders how he deserves to see his brother slit his throat, twice, just to seduce Sam to drink it. It's so fucked up. It’s low, even for lean, mean Dean. Human Dean would’ve never provoked Sam’s demon blood addiction. 

Sam nuzzles against the hand that’s stroking his face, his eyes squeezed shut. His lips tremble. 

“Let me make you feel better, don’t pull away, Sammy…”

Sam cries out and some ugly big tears fall down his face. Is it so easy to break? He’s gone through so much pain already, through torture, rape, withdrawal. He was betrayed by everyone he loved, especially Dean. Dean’s hand is warm, but his skin feels like marble when Sam leans in, rubs his face in the palm of Dean’s hand. Is this still his brother? Is there any humanity left? 

But what would that change? They’re here now. In a bunker soaked with demon blood, Sam is tied up, Dean reigns. 

“Hush, hush”, Dean purrs, both of his hands holding Sam’s bobbing head. “It’s gonna be alright… Sammy, just give in. There will be no more pain, just us. You and me, against the world. Like it used to be.”

Sam opens his eyes but all he sees is blurry and red, it stinks of iron and vomit and Dean’s black eyes…

“I wanna see your normal eyes”, is all Sam can say right now.

A smirk.

“Anything for you, Sammy.”

And Dean’s eyes flash back to green and Sam can have the illusion of his brother just for a moment longer. Thick dark blood is pulsing out of Dean’s cut on his throat. 

“It looks disgusting, Dee.”

Dean only laughs.

“It’s not supposed to be beautiful.”

Dean cups his hand before the dripping wound, collects a tiny lake of blood in his hand and then, gently presses his blood covered hand against Sam’s lips. 

The world turns upside down. Sam feels the spinning, the spinning, the spinning!

The taste makes him want to barf, violently, but the old creature, the blood sucking monster was waiting patiently beneath the surface. Patient but greedy. Now it’s unleashed it bursts out and the first drops, he swallows. His lips limp and curled in utter disgust, but now, oh now, there’s a jolt running through his body, he sits straight up, first ties grinding, the ropes won’t last. The shackles won’t last. 

“Come on, sweet baby boy, you want more…” Dean sings, eyes black as the night. 

And slowly, very slowly and enjoying, Sam’s lips brush Dean’s hand, collect the blood, a tongue, pink, hot sneaks out, licks the offered hand. 

The ropes break. The pain in Sam’s arm fades. It’s a movement even Dean didn’t see coming when Sam bursts out of all restraints he put on him and grips Dean’s hand tight, as tight as possible and sucks three of Dean’s fingers dry. 

The Knight of Hell rejoices, pulls Sam close, closer than they’ve been for a very long time.

“That’s it, Sammy, yes, that’s it, let me take care of you… such a greedy boy…” 

Dean’s voice is distant to Sam, distorted and hollow, he remembers their youth, the motel rooms, the flickering lights, the old tv, how Dean smelled of whiskey and beer. John’s passed out in an armchair, stained in blood, piss and vomit. 

He remembers Dean’s care. The kisses at night, the stealthy handjobs in the shower, how Dean ‘taught’ him how people do it. 

Make love. 

Sam was twelve. Dean was sixteen. And he was a grower. 

A slut. 

All of this drenched in velvety red tint.

The ritual.

“Let me take care of you, Sammy…”

“I love you, Dee.”

“Never tell anyone.”

And Sam never had told anyone (but Lucifer knew - he knew everything) and deep down, buried in his mind, these feelings were in peaceful slumber, violently dragged across the floor now, kicking and crying, 

A W A K E

Sam is awake. 

He remembers the awkward, painful, dry fuck in the back of the Impala after they killed the Wendigo, so long ago, and how they never ever said a word. 

Spit is shitty lube.

So is blood.

It roars. The monster roars in Sam’s chest. It’s in agony, it’s in joy, it’s free! 

And Sam is just a puppet, always been nothing more than a puppet. He watches himself suck Dean’s fingers, then sticking his own fingers in the wound, stir it, stir Dean’s insides. The gurgling, the retching. Dean’s satisfied moans, his hands all over Sam’s now healed body. 

“Yes, Sammy, let it all out, come on… Let it all out.”

Sam only hisses. This blood, Dean’s blood, the blood of a demon, of a Knight. It’s so much more potent than Ruby’s or any other demon’s he’s ever drank and tasted. Dean is delicious. Demon tend to taste like rotting meat, titan arum aroma.

But Dean tastes of all the good things. Dahlia, petrichor, amber. His musk makes Sam’s blood boil and his pants bulge. 

“Sammy.”

“Dean”, is the first thing New Sam says. 

What Monster Sam says. His voice sounds low, rough, barely in control. His body is shaking, too much force is withhold now. 

“Brother.”

The wound on Dean’s throat is closing up again already, the healing ability is really incredible. Sam will bite it open very, very soon, but first… 

Dean doesn’t protest, he doesn’t fight back at all when Sam slams him down to the ground like he weighs nothing. There’s the crunchy sound of maybe, bones breaking, or just getting sprained, but even that, Dean will heal in no time. Dean lies on his stomach, attempts to get up. 

“Sammy-”

“Sammy is not here right now.”

There’s no surprise, no scare in Dean’s voice. Sam stomps his bare foot in Dean’s back and Dean stays, doesn’t even breathe. The adrenaline rush in Sam’s ears makes him deaf for most other things and seeing demon Dean down on his stomach, defeated so easily, it’s almost an insult. Sam crouches down, one foot still on Dean’s back, pressing him down. 

“You surrender?”, Sam asks, eyebrows raise.

“I didn’t mean to fight you at all.”

Dean chuckles, his voice raspy

Sam drags Dean on all fours, rips apart his shirt (the pretty red shirt, ruined with blood anyway) and Jeans and when he holds Dean’s hips, bends over and bites Dean’s neck, Dean hisses “Come on, Sammy, that’s it.”

That’s it.

Sam tears apart skin, Dean’s blood gushes in Sam’s mouth, warm and silky, smooth and delicious. 

“Is that what you wanted?”, Sam says in a breathless moment, before he starts sucking the wound dry, the bleeding will stop soon, way too soon for Sam to be satisfied. 

Dean growls deeply, pushes against Sam. Pleading. Sam pushes two fingers inside Dean, but feels very quickly, Dean doesn’t need it. He doesn’t want it. He needs Sam. He rips off his jeans, down to his knees and when that’s not giving him enough space, he just tears it to shreds completely. Dean’s ass is perfect. Round, juicy, firm. When he gives it a slap - a hard one - he enjoys the noise Dean makes. And then he thrusts completely inside, without hesitation. No foreplay. No gentle feeling ahead and preparing Dean’s wonderfully tight and delicious ass. He feels amazing, hot, tight, smooth. Dean hands grip Sam’s wrists tight while he fucks into him, raw, without anything to soothe the pain, make it easier, make Dean nice, slick and wet. But he doesn’t complain at all. 

“That’s it”, Dean chants, in his low, low “Let’s finish this game” voice. That’s it, over and over. 

This is no sex Sam would ever have if he was in his right mind. Covered in his own vomit, Dean’s blood, on the cold floor. Not that he has fucked any guy after he fled off to Stanford anyway. Dean is all he knows. He only knows what Dean taught him about fucking ass. 

Dean starts getting slippery with his own blood, Sam’s blood infused spit and finally, cum. Sam loses the feeling of time and space, all he can do is fuck Dean until one of them passes out, and if Dean passed out, Sam would continue anyway. 

The adrenaline rush plummets too early for Sam’s taste, the haze clears up and he’s getting aware of his ripped off clothes, the shreds of Dean’s. The fluids, the smell, the feeling. Crust everywhere. Dean is still on his knees, head sunken on the floor, his arms stretched out, breathing heavily. There’s no sign that he’s in pain. But Dean’s a demon, right? He will be fine. 

Sam drags him up, and the cocky smile, the perfect hair, it’s all gone. Dean looks like he’s had the same otherworldly experience. It’s a sight that makes Sam chuckle. 

“What are you laughing at?”, Dean asks, coming on his feet, gently swaying, but finally his wounds are closing up. 

“You threatened to rip my throat out. With your teeth.”

“Not there yet, Sammy. Not yet.”

The situation is unreal, Sam feels unreal. He knows he will never be the same. Something’s broken inside him, crumbled - yet ready to expand again, into unknown territory. 

He doesn’t remember the coercion, Dean’s betrayal - or was it Dean’s way of deliberating Sam?

Sam, leaning on the table, watches Dean come close and he leans in, a hand in Sam’s hair, gently pulling. Their kiss isn’t gentle, nothing will be gentle for a while. Teeth clash, the table scrapes along the floor and the throbbing of Dean’s pulse makes Sam rise up again. Dean bites Sam’s neck, sharp pain - and Dean drinks. The feeling is satisfying and roughening Sam up at the same time. He pulls his Knight close, closer, grabs him and bends him over the table, both still bleeding, Dean high from Sam’s blood. 

“For a Knight of Hell, you’re very pliant”, Sam growls in Dean’s ear.

Dean chuckles.

“I just bend the knee to my King.”

Sam frowns. 

“What do you mean?”

Dean hikes up and drags Sam to the mirror in the Dungeon.

“Take a look”, Dean hums, rich and satisfied in tone, “acknowledge who you are.”

Breathe in. Breathe out. First, Sam’s mossy eyes just look glassy, clear, beaming with desire for Dean. 

Then he draws in his breath with a sharp hiss. 

“You got your daddy’s eyes, Sammy.”

Sam’s eyes turned yellow.

[grandinventor]

At the risk of sounding like a Jindosh apologist here (I am.) I will preface that Jindosh is a bad guy, he has either killed people personally or got them killed for experiment purposes by his Clockworks and has dissected the dead so he is not good, he is a villain, I acknowledge that.

Now with that out of the way I wanna criticize the narrative surrounding him and his mansion and how it sometimes falls flat on it’s face trying to demonize them thanks to a lot of points my friend @divaythfyr​ brought up. I’ll put all of that below the cut:

Yesterday I was told this line and I won’t lie it is...bad. Line in question: 

Billie: "His home is supposed to be full of marvels. Locals go in as a test of courage, or because they're desperate for a meal. Kids, even. People say you can hear them at night, pounding on the windows, calling for help."

But because I couldn’t live with the idea that he kills children you know the simplest villain demonization tactic in writing history (kick the puppy, kick the child whatever) and I think it’s pretty cheap to try and make him worse than Sokolov, I talked to the Jindosh apologist committee and thot about it so I’ll go over this line by line. 

1. "His home is supposed to be full of marvels.“ - Okay but isn’t his home also supposed to be scary? Isn’t the whole “Why would anyone build a scary mansion like this?” line from Emily/Corvo as they enter supposed to tell us that this is a scary place? Which is funny because in reality the mansion itself isn’t scary at all, in fact it’s extremely logical in the way it unfolds and exposes the rooms. It’s perfectly functional and as someone with a major in architecture, I can say it’s the best designed house in terms of organization in the game. There is no way to die in the mansion unless the Clockwork Soldiers and the guards get you - which goes for literally any important/rich person’s house? You walk in someone’s house uninvited and their guards get you. You can die if you get behind the walls but it’s extremely difficult to do so especially in the places where you can get squished. The house itself is completely harmless. So the whole idea from Jindosh’s end that it’s a maze is stupid on it’s own too, the house is perfectly logical and Stilton’s manor is an actual maze because I got lost 10 times in there. 

2. “Locals go in as a test of courage, or because they're desperate for a meal.“ - okay first part is correct people go in his house to either steal, test their skills or kill him. He says as much himself. He says fabled thieves and assassins died there. Again probably from his guards and Clockworks since you can’t die from the house in any rational way. And then he dragged them half dead or dead in his lab to dissect them. He has a fascination with watching people die because he is like evil and a villain like that. Which brings me to the next point which is:

There are only two ways to get in his mansion without powers. There is the bridge below which is broken and the railway which is guarded and has a Wall of Light on the other end. So how will anyone that is not prepared with a grappling hook or some kind of way to close this gap gonna get in? How is your random average person gonna go in? And most importantly why? Do people just walk in aristocrat’s houses and expect not to get out in a body bag or? 

Besides he has a) a lot of free food and drinks in the lobby which is his threshold as to how far you are allowed to go so if someone wanted food they can just walk in and take it and leave (after you know, scaling a mountain for whatever reason because there aren’t easier houses to steal from) and b) he has an audiograph, because I am sure he assumes people can’t read, which tells you “Do not enter or you will die and I will dissect your remains and this is a promise.” Like why add a warning if you wanna lure people in? Unless those people think they can outsmart him so they come with intent and not just because they need food/shelter. Also he has food right next to that audio. 

3. “Kids, even.“ - okay this one, the scary line. I won’t lie this made me uncomfortable. So like if we assume that normal people can enter by normal means (which in point 2 is clear they can’t unless further elaborated by the game on How? and Why?), a child going in as a dare and dying is possible. Billie after this line goes on to say that she saw a child dare his brother to touch the wall of light which vaporized the child, so the implication is possible. It’s possible a child went in his mansion as a dare and bad things unfolded. It’s also equally possible that it didn’t. We know of adult men dying because we see the bodies. For this one is just a rumor. You can take it either way depending on how you feel about Jindosh. It’s very unlikely a child would get this far though, unless this was some kind of Disney movie. Also Jindosh wouldn’t personally have a reason to kill a child you know, like I know it’s the easiest “this villain is super evil!!!!” writing tactic, but he had a pretty shitty childhood, he felt hated by his mother and probably wasn’t treated so nicely by his (bastard) brother. He likes to exercise his lack of control during his younger years by having control over other people through his house and toying with them. He is very childish in a sense too (with his toy house and toy soldiers), and because of all of this I truly don’t think he would kill a child. He wants a real challenge and to test out his machines and his house against the best and smartest Karnaca can offer, not children. Though my opinion here can be highly biased. 

Also many children can casually pull 6ft tall levers I’m sure--

4.  “People say you can hear them at night, pounding on the windows, calling for help." - we know people have died in the mansion and they have been crying for release, as he says so himself. But again the above points kind of challenge as to who these people that died inside were. However because you know I’ve been playing with his mansion for four years cause I am a dumb hoe, I can say that there are very little windows. In fact the majority of windows that aren’t blocked off by the cliff or the mechanisms are around his laboratory.

 Now yes people could go there and bang on them sure. But they literally...face the lab and chances are no one is gonna hear you bang on that side. The other windows not facing the lab are in the foyer where...you are allowed to be and nothing is gonna happen to you. 

And the windows that actually face a side where let’s say someone could hear if someone was banging are the windows on the front of the house. Only the thing is, there are no windows on the front of the house except in the foyer. 

Here are the buildings from across his mansion which I guess can maybe hear if someone was banging on the windows. But again no windows on the front of the house. 

The fake windows is where the mechanism for the ceiling over the gallery in the upper hall is. The one that kinda extends and unfolds from there. So isn’t entirely possible that the banging and screaming or whatever people heard is just...the mechanisms of his house? The scary evil child killing house? Which is actually moving and making a lot of noise at all times?

So in conclusion? Yes, Jindosh is bad, he has no regard to human life, he divides society as innocent bystanders and criminals. He does dream of an army of Clockwork Soldiers to eradicate all crime. Be, he isn’t a senseless killer, it’s his neutrality and fascination with death as well as his black and white thinking that makes him dangerous. He doesn’t see people as human. In the majority of cases we know of (except one for some reason? That cursed baker who got his brain fried why did you have to do that Jindosh!?) he experiments on people who he deems criminals without sympathy. Also in situations where he thinks it’s justified - breaking in to steal from him or hurt him, the Blade Verbena, prisoners that can actually provide a learning experience for his Clockworks and Sokolov. He doesn’t go kidnapping people off the streets to experiment on them. 

And despite his evilness being completely logical, the whole game tries to paint his mansion as this big puzzle and trap when in reality it’s...really just a house. The level design is beautiful and amazing but I think it doesn’t really carry the point as strongly simply because it’s not any more dangerous than any other mission and it’s just more fun when it comes to gameplay. The design is great but it never gave me the feeling of it being a horror house. So I think that demonizing Jindosh through hearsay instead of through his actual mission is a bit of a weird choice. A lot of things don’t reflect how evil he is, but not in the good way of “The Grand Inventor doesn’t seem evil but he is.” and instead you get it hammered how evil he is from the start without actually ever experiencing a climax of his evilness you wouldn’t expect. It’s not that every story should have a twist, but usually when you say someone is evil, you either make them good at the end or even more evil. Jindosh never has that climax, he is the same start to finish and that is... mildly annoying and slightly threatening. Like his level is pretty but not scary and they keep trying to convince you it’s scary which makes it weird which I guess is because if you listen to a lot of his unused lines and old concept art, he was supposed to be this stereotypical mad scientist but in the end they changed his visual design and lines so much he comes off as lukewarm. I understand what they tried to do with Jindosh but I feel like they failed to do it and had to rely on everyone saying he is super irredeemably evil to justify lobotomizing him.

Anyway this post is too long, sorry if the read more doesn’t go through somewhere and please feel free to counter my points I am open to different and non biased views (or even information I might not know because I haven’t read the books or found everything). 

[gallickingun]

hiya! could i get ummm a drunk!izuku confession type thing please? idk if you write for him but yea!

a/n: all right, i’ll try my hand at midoriya. don’t come for me if it’s trash! i told you guys i love kacchan!! can’t help but make him make an appearance in every fic i write lol  

You try to ignore the cheering and shouting in the background, kicking Bakugou in the knee with the heel of your foot to shut him up. You scowl at the others, tugging Deku away from the table, throwing his arm around your shoulders to steady him. You briefly throw some comments about seeing the others tomorrow towards Kirishima and Denki, but your eyes are tugged back towards the fiery blonde standing in your path.

“I’ll kill you later,” you narrow your eyes, the sound of explosions and the scent of burnt sugar lingering in the air as Bakugou tosses a glare your way.

“D-Don’t kill K-Kacchan!” Deku whines, a little tear escaping the corner of his right eyelid. He drops his head to your shoulder, sniffling, “I know he’s an ass, b-but you shouldn’t kill him!”

“Fine,” you grumble, tucking Izuku’s head further into your chest so he can’t hear the screams from Bakugou just behind you, protesting Midoriya’s words.

You manage to drive Izuku back to his apartment without him passing out or throwing up in the floorboard of your car. Right now you’re thankful that you chose to sober up towards the end of the night, opting for water instead of vodka so you could drive Deku back home if necessary.

After all, anything for your best friend. 

You’ve known Deku and Kacchan since your childhood - park days filled with sand pits and playground fights. You were there for Deku when he found out he was quirkless, that he would never be as powerful as All Might. You were the one to patch him up from Kacchan’s blasts in middle school, covering burn marks with salve and cuts with bandages. 

And slowly, but surely, your heart began to fall.

You fell headfirst the night you took him to the junior high dance. Sure, Kacchan ridiculed the both of you for even going, but you knew the Deku needed something to take his mind off of the awful, terrible things happening in the world. He needed to feel something other than powerlessness. With your hands on his shoulders and his arms around your waist, he was grounded for the first time in a long time. 

The look in his eyes is what cemented you to him, the cage around your heart tightening, a lock that only he held the key to.

“H-Hold on,” Deku coughs as you open the front door, assisting his stumbling feet over the threshold. You prop him up against the bar, kicking the door shut with your foot, “Izu’, honey, you need to rest. Listen, I-”

“Wait, w-wait, wait, it can’t be over!” Deku coughs into his elbow, eyes squinting as he tries to focus on what he wants to say next. You lock the door behind you, turning to press your palms to his cheeks to try and sober him up, “Nothing is over, silly. It’s just time to go to bed.”

“No,” he’s pouting now, “I’ve got something I-I need to do.”

You laugh, brushing his hair behind his ears, pushing his bangs away from his sticky face. He’s got leftover tequila and salt on the corners of his lips; you lick your finger and swipe away to rid his skin of it.

You really wish you had the guts to surge forward and kiss it off of him.

The cage around your heart rattles at your closeness, begging to bruise your skin with the confession of your feelings, begging for him to give you the key and set you free. He’s drunk; he’d never remember if you spilled your guts to him right now. Izuku has the worst memory when he gets plastered. 

Deku’s eyes water again, “Kacchan told me that if I g-got drunk, I-I could finally tell the truth.”

“Drunk words, sober thoughts,” you quote, rubbing at his face with the corner of your sleeve, “Can’t believe Kacchan had such insight. What do you need to tell the truth about?”

Izuku is mumbling now, playing with his hands like he does when he starts murmuring incoherently. It’s even worse now that he’s nursing the alcohol that’s still coursing through his veins. You brush your thumb against his cheekbone to drag his attention back to you, “Izu’, what’s going on?”

His big, doe eyes look across at you, lower lip trembling, “Kacchan said that if I wanted to tell the girl I like h-how I real-really, all I needed ta’ do was get drunk a-and it would be easy to tell her but it’s not easy! If anything it just feels m-more difficult because I can’t th-think straight and my heart is hammering a-”

“Kacchan is a dick,” you sigh, bringing him to you for a hug. Your arms wind around him like they always do, like you’ve been doing for the majority of your natural born life. “He knows that you stumble over your words. Being drunk wouldn’t help that.”

Deku wipes at his eyes as you separate from him, “I-I guess. I think he was trying to help me with my confidence.”

“Literally any girl would be lucky to have you, Deku,” you’re smiling but it feels disingenuous. You know it doesn’t reach your eyes, but you don’t have the capacity to care. “You’re amazing, wonderful - hell, you’re smart and you’re a wonderful fighter. You’ve got a whole PR team taking care of the incessant fangirls running around your coattails.”

“But you don’t like me, do you?”

Your brows furrow and you’re quick to deter his comment, “Of course I like you! How could you say that? We’ve been best friends since diapers!”

“I don’t want to be best friends anymore,” he sniffles, his lips quirking as he tries to make the next words come out of his mouth. “I can’t be best friends a-anymore.”

“Did I do something wrong?” You ask, racking your brain for something you could’ve said or done in the past couple of months to set him off, but you come up blank. You start to sweat, your hands flying around when you speak, “Deku, y-you could’ve told me, we could talk abo-”

“No,” he reaches up to circle his hand around your wrist, tugging you back down to earth. He’s laughing, which is much unlike him, but it makes you pause, “This is why Kacchan told me to get drunk. B-Because I can’t think straight around you and I always screw it up.”

You’re trying to connect the dots, but he’s too close and you’re too flustered. He’s such a big part of your life, to lose him would be like losing a part of yourself.

“I can’t be just your best friend anymore,” he repeats the statement that makes your heart shatter, “it’s too much.”

You go to speak but he places his palm over your mouth, little sparks of electricity from his quirk used to hold you down, “It’s too much because every time I see you, I just want to kiss you. A-And I get angry when I see you talking to Kacchan, which I thought was just normal at first be-because I’m always angry with Kacchan. B-But I realized that it was jealousy.”

Jealousy? Kissing?

“He told me that if I got drunk, I’d be able to tell you how I-I feel,” Izuku licks his lips, his throat bobbing. “But earlier, I-I just froze.”

His irises harden into little gemstones, green flickering towards you with certainty - an emotion Deku doesn’t often feel. He sighs, tensing his shoulders as he says the next thing that pieces your heart back together, “I love you. I have for a long time. And I-I can’t hold it in anymore.”

The sparks around his hands die out, his fingertips falling away from your face as he grazes your jaw. He’s sweating now, toes curling in his socks at your reaction.

“Silly Deku,” you murmur, eyes hot with the threat of tears. You thread your fingers into his hair but this time it means something much more than it’s ever meant before, “I wish you’d told me sooner.”

Somehow the two of you meet in the middle, neither of you needing to communicate what you want next. His lips slot against yours, hands tugging you by the ribs. Your heart bursts from the cage, his words slipping down your throat to set you free.

-

send me a character + trope/au/scenario/prompt and i’ll write a blurb!

taglist below the cut!

@kamehamethot @simplybakugou @lady-bakuhoe @todorki-shoto @redhawtriot @burnedbyshoto @cookies-n-chaos @katsukisprincess @rat-suki @cutesuki–bakugou @k-atsukidayo @bnhatrashh @succulent-momma @voiceofreader @multifandom-fanfic @that-one-enthusiast  @bitchtrynafck @cutest-celestial-princess @blue-peach14 @pastel-prynce @bokunokangae @shoutodoki @bakuoushoe @tenyaingenium @hoe-biscus @kingtamakimurder @myherofuckademia @myherowritings @lxvely-mha @myherorambles @bratwritings @samanthaa-leanne @orokayagi @queensynderella @tumblingintothefeelstrain @heroes-landing @suckersuki @yuueimagines @bnha-violetnote @your-local-bnha-writer @vnmwrites @plusultrawritings @aizawamirite @lovekatsukibakugo @ua-imagines @bnhasidebin @bnhawritten @ramen-rambles @sunbeamwrites

[georgescatcafe]

the rising chariot — 1

rating: t  warning/s: none pairing/s: platonic dream team, karl jacobs/sapnap genres/tags: percy jackson and the olympian au, friendship, angst summary: Nick Pappas isn’t sure it’s normal for teenagers to be sent across the United States on a quest that could potentially kill them, but Nick has started to realize that everything he thought was normal is entirely false. George Davies doesn’t particularly want to spend three consecutive days with this new camper and that son of Hermes who snagged his win in Capture the Flag two weeks ago, but he knows he has to suck it up and go with them, no matter how irritating they may be. Clay Bryce just wants to prove himself and show that he’s more than that troublesome kid from Cabin Eleven, but even as the leader of this quest, he’s not sure how to when Nick has fire powers and George is practically capable of mind-control.

Yet what they feel and want will mean nothing if they don’t complete their quest. When a petty feud between gods has Apollo threatening to take the Sun from the sky, the three must head out to stop him, but not just that—they’re in a race against an ancient enemy of the god, one who definitely will try and kill him if it gets to Apollo first.

+ao3 +masterpost

Despite what the papers said, Nick didn’t mean to burn down his school. The only reason he wasn’t going to prison was because no one died and the police couldn’t find any solid evidence that it was his fault. That is, other than the fact that when the building stopped burning, there was just him standing in its charred remains, not a single hair on his head harmed. But seriously, he didn’t mean to burn down his school. Yeah, he hated sitting through English as much as the next kid, but he didn’t hate it enough to commit arson.

Not to mention he was turning sixteen in three days. Why would he actively try and get into trouble three days before his birthday?

But that wasn’t really a new problem. The burning, that is. Maybe on a grander scale this time—he’d never burnt down a whole building before—but he’d always had an unlucky relationship with fire. Or, his mom would call it lucky, if you overlooked the whole I burn everything I touch thing. She used to just laugh at the soot sprinkled across the living room carpet and run her fingers through his hair, telling him to only play with fire if he knows he won’t get burned. (And he’s never gotten burned.)

The last time he saw her, she was staring at him through the back window of a police car.

After that, it was like she was never there. Nick still thought about her, though, when his stepdad, a rigid, heavyset man, kissed his new wife on the cheek and patted Nick on the head like he’s still five and not fifteen-and-eleven-months, and he thought about her when it was his turn to stare at his family through the back window of a police car.

It was just a single policeman, polite and unassuming as he explained the full situation to Nick’s parents, and his parents just wanted to get this out of the way, so when the cop told Nick to get in the car, they didn’t protest, and Nick took his seat, the window cool under his palms as he watched his stepdad and stepmom get smaller and smaller.

“I really didn’t mean to do it,” Nick finally said, turning back to the officer.

“I know, son,” the cop in the front seat replied.

“Then why are you taking me?” he asked.

The cop didn’t reply.

Nick turned back to the window, watching building after building pass by. He tried to read some of the signs, but the letters got all jumbled up, and eventually, he just sighed, closing his eyes and resting his forehead on the window, pretending that the vibrations of it didn’t bother him. By the time he bothered sitting up again, the bustling city had disappeared and field after field stretched endlessly around them. Nick curled a hand around the seatbelt pressing into his chest.

“Where are we going?”

Again, the cop didn’t reply.

Nick tugged at the seatbelt. “Can I not ask questions anymore?” He tried to open the door, but it was pointless. The thing was locked, and every time he tried to undo the lock, it would pop right back into place. NIck turned back to the cop. “Look, man, I really didn’t mean to do it, and if you believe me, that’s great, so I don’t know why you still want me here. If you just let me go home—”

“That’s enough, Nick Pappas,” the cop finally snapped, and Nick’s eyes widened at the sound. His voice was raspy, and he pronounced his ‘s’s weird. “Be a good kid and sit quietly.”

“I just want to know where you’re taking me!” Nick banged his fist on the window, only wincing for the shortest second when it sent a tingle back up his arm.

“I said enough!” And then the car was veering off the road, Nick was flung into the window, seatbelt digging painfully into his chest and waist, ears ringing from hitting his head on the glass, and the cop was twisting out of his seat, stretching out over him, hat falling aside to reveal long hair, lips parting to reveal sharp, glistening fangs.

Nick scrambled back as far as he could, seatbelt constricting his movements. “I don’t want trouble! What is wrong with you?” He kicked at the cop, letting out a strangled gasp when his foot met soft flesh and not hard muscle. “You’re not even a guy!”

“And you are no uselesssss mortal either!” the cop hissed, grinning even as its fangs pop, terrifying and fascinating all at—the cop sprung forward, and nope, just terrifying, not even close to fascinating.

Nick was never particularly flexible, but one time he heard about a bus flipping over with a kid inside it and the kid’s mom pushed the bus back over all on her own in some crazy fit of adrenaline. He had the hazy thought that something similar might be happening then as his foot makes contact with the cop’s face and the fangs dig into the sole of his shoe instead of his face. In the seconds he had to spare, Nick quickly undid his seatbelt, flailing as the cop grabbed at his shoe and pulled, throwing off his balance. The satisfaction of smacking it in the head was small in comparison to the fear that welled when he saw rage flicker in its eyes.

“I don’t even know what you are!” he choked out when the cop-not-cop made another pass at him. “Let me go!” With each word he aimed another kick at its head, but most of his kicks missed, and dread continued to fill him up as all his pathetic fighting did was enrage the thing.

“You ssssstupid boy!” the maybe-cop-probably-not seethed. “I am Sssssandra the Sssssupreme! One of the mossst powerful dracaena in the mortal world right now!”

The information meant nothing to Nick. He finally landed a kick on the center of her chest, sending her back into the front seat as he worked furiously at getting the door open. “Okay! And I’m Nick Pappas and you really don’t want to hurt me!”

“Oh, but I do!” Sandra hissed because that’s what she was doing, no way else to describe it. “Your death would be sssssplendid for me!”

“Not for me, though!” Nick argued, screeching when rough hands grabbed at his waist and fangs were once again in his line of sight. “Let me out!”

He banged against the door some more before turning back to the—what’d she say?— dracaena, heart pounding as nails dug into his waist and fangs filled his vision. He swallowed, wondering if it would be better or not to look death in the face before deciding it’d be worse, a lot worse, and squeezed his eyes shut.

Nick was mentally preparing himself for the end, when there was a muffled noise from outside the car, and then the shattering of glass. His eyes flew open even as shards of glass continued to rain down onto him and the snake lady from the window opposite them. And there, between all those sharp edges, stood a short ginger kid that, had Nick been in a better state of mind, he would remember from his classes. As it was, however, all he saw was his savior, holding a hammer tightly in his hands, cinnamon hair glowing in the fading sunlight, and eyes absolutely filled with terror.

“Are you okay?” the kid shouted as the dracaena screamed above Nick, who did his best to push her off of him and open the door from the outside.

“We have to go!” Nick replied, grabbing the boy by the wrist and running, uncaring of where they went, so long as it was away. “That thing back there is not a cop!”

“You’re right!” the kid agreed, looking quickly over his shoulder before letting out a sharp noise and running faster.

With a bit more space to breathe and think, Nick could finally recall who he was: Floris, who, although they weren’t very close, he sat with more often than not, the dude letting Nick copy his notes and never pressuring him about paying attention in class—except for certain times, like in World History, when they were talking about Greece, and Nick had said his family was from there, and Floris turned to him with wide eyes and asked, “You know?” As if everyone didn’t have at least some clue as to where their family was from. After that, Floris would nudge him every time he started to nod off, pointing to the screen and reminding him to listen to the teacher. It was weird, but he just brushed it off as some ginger thing. Gingers are weird , man.

That seemed truer than ever now, watching Floris run with a hammer and his lopsided gait. “Do you know what that thing was?” Nick asked, shouting over the wind that had picked up in the fields.

“Do you?” Floris replied.

Nick checked over his shoulder. He could still see the car, left behind in a ditch, glass twinkling like stars across the asphalt, and—“You’re about to find out!” He took the hammer from Floris and threw it at the dracaena , cursing when all she did was duck out of the way. It doesn’t even hit one of her tails and oh, wow, she has two tails. The day just kept getting weirder.

“I can’t do this,” he whispered to himself, even as Floris yelled at their lack of a weapon.

“You have to do something!” Floris argued, turning to face him, gripping him by the shoulders and shaking him. “Or she’ll kill us both!”

“I know,” Nick swallowed, his own hands coming up to cover Floris’s, “I know.” He turned back to the dracaena, who continued to approach undeterred. “I can—I have to do this.” He stumbled as she hissed at him, fangs on full display once again. “Um,” he held out his hands in a stop motion, “look—we wouldn’t be better off dead! You want us to live! You really want us to—”

“Nick!” Floris snapped. “What are you doing?”

“Something!” Nick replied. “I’m doing something!”

“That’s not something!” Floris shook. “Doing something is burning down the school because you heard a kid talking bad about your mom—do that again!”

“I didn’t mean to burn down the school!” Nick looked at Floris in desperation, only for the dracaena to reach them, hissing and cursing their names. “I just—I wanted—I didn’t—”

“You are the ssssame as her,” the dracaena’s words became clear now that she was closer, “ssstupid, pathetic, unable to ssssave the one who needssss you most. Prepare to die, Nick Pappssss, son of—”

“Shut up!” Nick shoved at the dracaena, but that wasn’t what got her to stop. His hands were engulfed in flames, pressing into the snake lady’s police uniform, setting the cloth ablaze, sending smoke into the air and forcing a scream out of her throat. He pressed harder into her chest. “Shut up about my mom! You don’t know her! She didn’t do anything wrong! Shut up!”

He held his hands to her chest as she burned, his own chest heaving, lungs working in overtime as his brain attempted to understand everything it just witnessed. Everything it just experienced.

The dracaena’s screaming finally stopped, and then, there was just quiet.

Nick watched as her ash blew away into the wind, sunlight catching it and spinning it into gold. Flames flickered between his fingers before he curled his hands into fists. He turned to Floris. “I don’t know what just happened.”

“You,” Floris said timidly, “just slayed a monster.”

Nick grimaced.

Together, they walked in a tense silence, the sun setting to their right, moon rising to their left, up until Floris cleared his throat.

“What she said, about your mother—”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“It’d be good to, though,” Floris tried. “It’s not good to keep all those things to yourself like that. They eat at you.”

“I think I know what’s eating me and what’s not, thanks.” Nick kicked a pebble, sending it clattering down the road ahead of them. “Talking—feelings talking—isn’t really my thing.”

“Still,” Floris said, “it’s worth a shot.”

Nick frowned, staring out at the open road ahead of them, town still a bit away. “What does it even matter to you?” He looked to the other. “You barely know me. We just sit next to each other in class. Who cares about my mom?”

“You do.” Floris stopped to pick a dandelion from the weeds growing along the road. He held it out to Nick. “And I thought we were friends.”

“We’re not in elementary school,” Nick replied, but he accepted the dandelion anyway. He puckered his lips, blowing out a stream of air and sending the seeds flying. 

“Did you wish for anything?” Floris asked, watching the seeds scatter throughout the sky.

Nick dropped the leftover stem to the ground. “No. And if I had, I wouldn’t tell.” He crushed the stem underfoot. 

They kept walking.

The sun set as they went, making the asphalt beneath their shoes glitter and shine. Not a single car passed, and Nick couldn’t stop the unease that crept up on him as they left the cop car behind them.

“Hey,” Floris said. “It’s fine.”

Nick looked over at him, disbelieving. Though no longer racing, his heart still pounded in his chest, and his limbs felt like jello, loose and clumsy. It was hard to imagine going home and sleeping, like he hadn’t just almost been killed.

“I mean it,” Floris continued. “You won. It won’t be coming back any time soon. You survived.”

Nick nodded. He survived. He’s not dead—he’s breathing in fresh air, listening to the night breeze, watching the streetlights reflect on the road. “It’s just,” he made a vague motion with his hand, “scary.”

With the action, he found himself watching his fingers as they curled and splayed. His hand, which had been encased by fire not long ago, skin unblemished and tan. As if there had never been any fire there in the first place. He let it fall back to his side.

He didn’t want to think about it anymore. He didn’t want to think about it at all.

They continued their walk in silence.

By the time they stopped in front of Nick’s doorstep, the moon was halfway through the sky, and Floris yawned every three seconds next to him. Nick straightened, clearing his throat. “Thanks,” he said. “For earlier. I could’ve died without you.”

Floris studied him. Nick stared back. Eventually, Floris reached a conclusion, whatever it may be, and gave a shrug. “You would’ve done what you had to do eventually.” Nick opened his mouth, but he continued: “I’m happy to help, though. That’s what I’m here for. Seriously.”

Nick frowned as the ginger bid him a cheery goodnight before turning on his heel and leaving, Nick standing alone in the doorway.

When Floris was gone from view, Nick faced the door, wiggling the doorknob to find it locked. He sighed, pulling out his house key. His brain was still struggling to process… everything, and his body was trembling minutely from shock and leftover adrenaline. He felt completely drained, exhausted, ready to collapse at the first sight of a cushion. It was brute strength he used in making it to his room and into bed, where he fell onto his Paris-themed comforter (don’t ask) and fell into what seemed to be the hardest sleep of his life. Right before he slipped into dreams, he wondered if perhaps he had died in the cop car that day, and this was all just an extra long hallucination.

[seventhfracture]

i hope im not too late for the otp ask thingy, i wanna suggest 5, 6, 7, 13, 23, 34, 73 for lougosi :^)

For you? Never!

5 What do they like the most about each other? Unsurprisingly their favourite trait is the one they share; the ability to go all out when they want to succeed at something. Louis and Legosi won't hold back, won't feel a single hesitation, when they want to get something important done. That clever recklessness is something they share and its seen them through their big battles. They both see the trait as a fault in themselves but admire it in each other.

6 Who cleans the most? Contrary to that, who is the messiest? Legosi is used to tidying up after himself given his background. He's also just considerate like that. He doesn't want to take up too much real estate in the home. After a lifetime of maids and living with literal gangsters Louis is a mess. He doesn't compute he might have to pick anything up so he throws it everywhere. Even when they do have a maid Legosi refuses to just leave the house a disaster even when Louis insists he pays his staff good money to deal with his shit. Louis got a little better after having to play den mother to the Shishigumi but not much.

7 Who usually cooks? Neither of them can cook. They're both total culinary failures. Louis has just never really bothered to learn. It was always a little "below his station" and he never needed too. Besides, after the livestock ring literally feeding him gruel for the first 5 years of his life he doesn't have very homely memories of food. Actually his whole relationship with food is a disaster but Louis and his disordered eating are a topic for another day!

Legosi went from Grandpa's cooking to cafeteria cooking at Cherryton. He was a little too distracted with grief at the time he might've taken an interest in feeding himself. As a young adult he makes do with take out from his job most of the time. But as he gets older and food becomes more of a family/social even I imagine he'd start to take an interest in learning to nourish his loved ones if not himself. I imagine Riz would give him a few lessons when he's out of Juvie.

13 Who steals the blankets? Legosi has a thick, thick, coat. Both he and Louis are animals better suited to a cooler climate than some but Louis is a blanket bandit. Legosi doesn't mind. Half the time Legosi is the blanket! Louis says he doesn't mind being squished but Legosi suspects a couple of those antler to the face bonks he's received were intentional warnings. 23 What do they do when they're bored and together? With Legosi and Louis there's rarely a dull moment. They're busy people and they rarely take time to have a weekend at home. However idle hands do often lead to the big Horny. So if they've got an hour in between stuff with nothing to do you can bet the first idea will be to bang furiously. 34 What do they do when the other is stressed? Louis is underhanded when Legosi is fretful. Belly pats and fucking are his primary means of distraction but Legosi is also a talker, a monologue heavy wolf, so Louis is always willing to listen.

Louis isn't much of a talker when he's stressed. Louis is the kind of guy who won't rest until he's fixed the problem he sees. If something is broken he's got to hit it with a metaphorical hammer. But sometimes? Sometimes you can't do that. Which Louis hates. Legosi's first recourse is to become an active participant in helping Louis fix whatever's making him stressed but, failing that, the Shishigumi will funnel Louis cigarettes and liquor non stop while Legosi winces. 73 What do they usually text about? Legosi goes a chunk of canon without a phone but you can bet your ass Haru and Louis insist he gets ones eventually. Because its too dangerous to not be able to reach your vigilante wolf! So Louis pays the cell plan and Haru bought the phone so Legosi will feel bad about breaking/losing it.

Their texts start a little awkward. They're both used to having more inputs like body language and tone with each other and they dont want to misunderstand so they hesitate. This turns into Pictionary. They send each other photos of where they are, what they're doing, who they're with, what they're eating, then they send each other reaction gifs, memes, news articles...

Every now and again this stream of almost hieroglyphic texting will be broken with something like: [Where are you? I just saw the news.] Or [We've got a problem. Call me.] Or [My leg is hurting if you're doing something stupid I'll fucking kill you.] Or, most often, [I love you] before the texter does something stupid and reckless.