#lulas's writings;;

[lian-fang-zun]

Nasuverse Kinkmeme Fill: Mash + Jiang Ziya (Taigong Wang)

For @nasuversekinkmeme prompt linked here: x

~

“‘Is it true that I failed at every Earthly venture outside of fishing and administration?’”

Contrary to Mash’s worries, Jiang Ziya didn’t seem particularly offended. If anything, he seemed amused. “Is that really what the Fengshen Yanyi said about me? Haha, Lord Xu Zhonglin truly has quite the sense of humor, doesn’t he…”

Mash fidgeted a little, feeling somewhat awkward in hindsight. “I don’t know if it’s really a sense of humor,” she murmured.

“No, of course not. From what I understand, that novel wasn’t even meant to be a historical record on the level that I understand the Shiji was meant to be, and was written thousands of years after my time besides.” Tapping the Dashenbian idly against his knee, Jiang Ziya went on with more seriousness, “Hmm…well, I suppose I can at least say it wasn’t far from the truth. I was always destined to play a political and military role in the transition of dynasties, so most other vocations I took up were not anything of note – odd skills picked up here and there aside. Does that answer your question, Lady Mash?”

Mash nodded. “Yes, it does. Thank you. And, um…I didn’t offend you, did I?”

“I can’t be offended by earnest questions coming from people like you, Lady Mash! In fact, it almost reminds me of – ” Jiang Ziya suddenly cut off, a faraway look in his eyes crossing over for a moment. It soon dissipated, however, as he pointed at the pile of fish they had caught earlier. “In any case, let’s prepare those fish for later, shall we? I can teach you some techniques to de-scale them for our Master’s sake.”

[merthurians-prat-and-idiot]

9-1-1 Buddie 8x06 coda (major spoilers!)

The spirit of Eddie Diaz possessed me and here this is! V unedited as its almost 4am for me but enjoy!

Also on Ao3

🚒💫

"Did you shave your moustache?"

Its not the first thing Eddie had been expecting Buck to mention, when he'd waited him out to hear what was going on.

But, another part of Eddie sparks just a little. Something saying 'he noticed'.

Eddie shaved his trauma based facial hair, put on a song and danced around like he was a kid again. Like he was stealing the mixtape Adriana's boyfriend made her, blasting it full volume while everyone was at church and he blagged a pulled muscle from baseball practice (he only got away with that because the only thing worse to Ramon Diaz than a son, 'a man of the house' being taken down by a sore leg, was his son ditching the match and embarassing them). He would jump the stairs in twos or sometimes threes in time with the music, slide down the bannister, knee slide across the kitchen floor- playing every song on a loop (ignoring the way his heart flopped in his chest when Adri's boyfriend whispered his dedications between songs).

He'd let loose in his own house this time, joy bursting within him and then his door had been knocked on, his best friend came in, sat beside him and noticed it all.

Or, at least the moustache.

And probably the shirt, underpants and socks look.

Plus he was pretty sure Buck was sitting on the fly swatter air guitar right now.

Eddie grins unabashedly, feeling his smooth upper lip tug.

"Yeah I did, what'd you think?"

He gives his best pout just for-

Buck exhales a laugh, his head ducking with a just there smile.

There it is.

"Suits you- not that uh- not that the whole, what did Chim call it?"

"Magnum"

"Right! Magnum look didn't- but it was kinda getting a bit too similar to Gerrard and that is not a mix up I want to be part of"

Eddie snorts.

"Were you actually worried about accidentally greeting him as me? He'd sure learn a hell of a lot about racoons if you did"

"Hey- racoons are adorable and they're super intelligent!"

Eddie raised his hands in acquiesce.

"I'm not saying anything against racoons Buck, you've pleaded their case already and besides, Christopher-"

He cuts himself off and watches Buck suck in a small breath.

"Christopher loves them too"

It doesn't hurt quite so much. He finds himself smiling again.

"So, the moustache the only thing you noticed?" he sinks further into the couch, shoulder brushing Buck's.

"I figured you'd just put all your other clothes in the wash" Buck gestures up and down at him with a smirk.

He gets an eyeroll in return.

"What about you?" Eddie asks.

The question is light, but Eddie would be lying if he said he wasn't getting curious, watching the way Buck seems to curl back into himself, a halligan settling back across his shoulders.

He lets the silence linger for a moment the way he knows Buck needs.

Finally there's a sigh.

"Tommy broke up with me".

[hermionegalathynius]

Found Family (4/?)

So I was pleasantly surprised by the amount of positive reactions this story is getting. I just want to say thank you to everyone who takes the time to like or reblog or comment my work because it means the world to me.

Fandom: Now You See Me

Pairing: Danny Atlas x Reader

Warnings: Some swearing — read at your own discretion.

Part 3

  “Hello New York!” Danny exclaimed, stepping forward and greeting the crowd. They screamed. 

  “Thank you so much! Hey, it’s great to be back! And have you met our newest Horsemen, the May sisters! Y/n and Lula!”

  The audience cheered louder and you and Lula waved, bright smiles on both your faces. Danny grinned back at you with a wink. 

  “Feels good right?”

  You nodded, “Yep.”

  “Pretty good,” Lula said, walking across the stage, “Pretty good.”

  Danny turned back to the audience and started to calm them, “Thank you, thank you.”

  The cheering quietened.

  “Um, okay. We want to talk to you about your privacy. What does your privacy mean to you?”

  “Because apparently to Owen Case, it means absolutely nothing,” Merritt continued.

  The audience looked around nervously. Your smile widened as you moved to stand next to Danny.

  “No actually, Merritt, it means less than absolutely nothing,” you said before addressing the audience, “You see, Owen’s mocked your privacy. He’s scorned it.”

  Danny nodded, running a discreet hand down your back and loosening the tension in your shoulders. You tried not to blush in front of an audience of people. 

  “Right,” he continued, “and we’re not just talking about the things that you already agreed to when you signed probably without reading the terms and conditions of Octas 1 through 7.”

  “So,” Lula began, “Before we start the show, we had Owen agree to a few terms of our own.”

  You grinned at her, proud of her for reaching this dream. She looked so comfortable up there, talking to the audience. You were glad to be able to do it with her, too.

  “So everything that he had once considered private…” Lula trailed off.

  Your heart dropped to your stomach as her mic cut out. One glance at Danny told you he understood and he quickly walked over to Lula.

  “Yeah, everything that he once considered private is now…” his mic cut off too.

  “Shit,” you whispered, not bothering to mind your language as you assumed yours had cut off too. 

  The screen behind you flashed and white noise filled the theatre. People screamed. 

  “Oh my,” a computer-generated voice echoed through the room, “As the Horsemen like to say, magic is about controlling perception.”

  You gazed up at the shifting face that appeared on the screen. Someone grabbed your arm gently and you turned to see Danny. 

 “Y/n!” He exclaimed, “Are you alright?”

  You swallowed, fear piercing through you, “I… yeah. Yeah I’m okay. What’s going on, Danny?”

  He shook his head, “I don’t know.”

  “You see them as the champions of the truth,” the voice continued, “but are they? Or is that just another one of their illusions?”

  “Shit shit shit,” Merritt was saying as he and Lula joined you and Danny in the middle of the stage, “Where’s Dylan?”

  “And Jack?” Lula added. 

  “So since they clearly love secrets, let’s reveal some of theirs.”

  “Danny, everyone, get off the stage,” Dylan’s voice crackled through the coms, “Jack, go with them. I’ll see you at the meet up point.”

  Danny’s hand moved down your arm and gripped yours. You squeezed his fingers in response.

  “Let’s go,” he said, pulling you off the stage behind him. 

  The four of you began running, the voice echoing behind you clear as day. 

  “Do you recall the death of Jack Wilder? What if I told you he’s not just alive, but he’s actually right here.”

  Jack’s alarmed face under his security cap was displayed on a screen you passed as you ran out of the backstage area.

  “Dammit,” you heard Danny mutter. His hand was still firmly clasped around yours. Normally you would be bothered by the tightness, but adrenalin was coursing through your veins and you were just that desperate not to lose track of him in this chaos. 

  “And do you know who else is here? The FBI. Let’s let them in, shall we? And now for the big reveal…”

  “Where’s the door to the roof?” Danny called to Jack as the younger man joined the group running to the meeting point. 

  “Take the next left then up the stairs,” Jack said. 

  “There’s a fifth Horseman, and he’s the biggest criminal of them all. FBI agent Dylan Rhodes.”

  The five of you punched through the door to the roof. 

  “How the hell could this happen? I thought Dylan had everything under control!” Merritt yelled.

  “Yeah. Apparently he didn’t,” Danny said, quietly frustrated in the way you knew he could get.

  Merritt whirled on the illusionist, and something in his expression told you Danny wouldn’t like what he was about to say. 

  “Maybe you’re the leak, Dan. Where’ve you been sneaking off to?” Merritt demanded. 

  Danny let go of your hand and advanced on the mentalist, “Don’t you dare for a second insinuate that I had anything to do with this!”

  “I’m not insinuating, that’s your-“ Merritt began to retort, but Jack cut in. 

  “Let’s get to the truck, come on!”

  You all ran to the black tube. Danny nudged you in front of him, and you jumped in. 

  Gritting your teeth against the roller-coster sensation in your gut, you crossed your arms over your chest and noted with some curiosity the pulsing sound coming from the gaps in the tube. 

  You could also hear Jack sliding ahead of you and Danny behind you. After a moment you also heard Merritt screaming further back. 

  Then, with a thud you tumbled into a laundry basket. 

  “Wha…” you breathed, getting a split second to gaze around at your surroundings before Danny slammed into you. 

  “Oof,” he said, “Sorry. You okay?”

  You winced, “Yeah. A little bruised, but I’ve had worse. You?”

  He nodded as Lula and Merritt tumbled into the basket next to you, “Yeah. What the hell is going on?”

  “Wasn’t there supposed to be a truck?” Merritt asked, clambering out of the basket. The rest of you followed his lead. Asian people in white aprons started yelling at you, shoving you through a crowded, steamy kitchen.

  “Wait,” Danny said in between being shoved by Chinese chefs, “did you mis-run the tube?”

  “No, I put it in the truck, I know I did!” Jack exclaimed, bumping into you while trying to dodge an oncoming tray. 

  “We’re really not in the truck right now,” you said, stumbling into Danny who reached back and grabbed your hand, the sensation becoming familiar to you.

  “Somebody must have moved the tube,” Merritt said, as you all moved through a set of doors into what looked like a restaurant, “Were we above a Chinese restaurant?”

  “I’m moving, relax!” Lula yelled at the man who was shoving her out of the kitchen. 

  “Okay, why are we here?” you demanded.

  “Why am I frickin’ starving?” Lula asked, staring at the Chinese food everywhere.

  “Yeah, I’m weirdly starving too,” Jack mused.

  At their words your own stomach growled, responding to the smell of noodles and stir fry surrounding you.

  Merritt moved towards the door, popping his head outside. 

  “Something’s very wrong,” you told Danny softly.

  He nodded, brows furrowed, “Yeah, I agree.”

  “At least,” Lula began as Merritt returned, “And I know this isn’t much consolation, but apparently we’re now surrounded by Chinese food. Right?”

  “Guys…” Merritt said and you all turned to look at him, “I think where we are right now, they don’t refer to it as ‘Chinese food’. It’s just called… food.”

  “Shit,” you muttered.

  “Wait, what are you saying?” Danny asked, “How is this possible?”

  A high pitched giggle directed all of your attention to the man with a perm sitting at the table nearest you, facing away with a menu held up in front of his face. 

  “I believe in your particular parlance, the word is ‘magic’.”

Taglist:

@pulling-out-my-eyes

[lucifer-is-a-bag-of-dicks]

current state

my ADHD is a dog and my fanfic is something it's not supposed to have in its mouth I'm chasing it around the house like NO! YOU'RE BURNT OUT! DROP IT! YOU NEED SLEEP!

[lifblogs]

Lula/A Good Name

Week 8 Alt. Prompt: Lula @summer-of-bad-batch Rating: General Audiences Word Count: 2586 Summary: Crosshair watched the bomb go off by Wrecker's head on their last mission, and now he sits by his bedside, riddled with guilt. He's dying to do something good for his brother, so Crosshair goes on a little shopping trip, Hunter and Tech following along. A/N: I have been in a weeks-long mental health episode, but I am glad I wrote this. Maybe I'm back to writing. Guess we'll see! READ ON AO3

Wrecker writhed in his bed, moaning, and Crosshair squeezed his hands more tightly together, mouth drawing into a firmer line. If anyone looked in they would think by the tensing of Crosshair’s muscles, the hard set to his face, his eyes, that he was in physical pain as well.

He supposed watching Wrecker felt like that. There was an ache in his chest, and already he could feel the sore, brooding tension in his shoulders and neck from endlessly watching over him.

Crosshair knew Wrecker’s injuries were due to some mistake, some statistic that could happen to anyone in Wrecker’s position on the battlefield, that mistakes did happen.

Still, the sinking pit in his stomach, the monster gnawing at his chest, shredding him, its venom infecting his veins, told him that this was his fault. His.

After all, wasn’t Crosshair supposed to watch every single member of his team, battlefield terrain permitting?

He had had an eye on Wrecker, had watched the bomb go off near his head, had watched his helmet be ripped off from the heat and pressure a mere moment—less than the blink of an eye—before the fire and shrapnel hit. Crosshair hadn’t been able to see then, his view overshadowed by the raging flurry of orange-white flames where he knew his brother’s head was. He knew he had reacted quickly, that he’d called for a medic, that he had shot down any enemies trying to take advantage of the break in their line, had informed the rest of the squad…

Crosshair had been told by Hunter, by everyone that he had done the right thing, that he was a hero.

Crosshair didn’t feel like a hero. He felt utterly helpless.

That’s what he had been up on his perch. Helpless. Was he a hero to not be able to reach Wrecker himself? Did heroes hide and watch while their squad was out facing the real fight?

Over half the time plans did end up calling for him to be down in the dirt with them, for his armor to get as scuffed and marked up as theirs. And he knew his job was important, and he was kriffing good at it. Still…

Why did he feel so terrible about this?

They had often done training for field medicine, Hunter was a little too good with his acting sometimes, making everyone’s pulse kick up for a bit as their bond and instincts kicked in, and other times there was getting injured from training. He knew these kinds of things happened, had seen plenty of regs with scars. But Wrecker? He wasn’t meant for this, was he?

Apparently he was, because he lay there, tossing and turning in his bed in the medbay on Kamino.

Training didn’t prepare you for the gore, the sounds of pain, the screaming. At the time they had all thought their training had been tough, but now he realized it was mere child’s play. This wasn’t Hunter making his eyes go blank and his breaths slow to almost nothing, body going limp, as they pretended to patch him up. This was something real, something they hadn’t been trained for.

Wrecker mumbled something, and turned his head, giving Crosshair an excellent view of all the heavy bandages that covered up a horror story of pain.

Crosshair’s throat ached. The now-unending helplessness that hadn’t ceased since the bomb went off near Wrecker’s head tugged at Crosshair’s tear ducts.

Wrecker winced.

Crosshair wished he could get someone to give him more pain medicine, but he’d already checked so many times he was bound to get himself kicked out of the medbay soon. Besides, Wrecker was pumped full of pain meds. His injuries were just that painful, that ruinous, that not all of it could be mellowed.

The others of the Bad Batch checked on Wrecker, of course, but Crosshair stayed with him the longest, even when Hunter insisted he get rest, or at least have some water, something to eat.

It wasn’t fair. It just wasn’t fair!

The anger sizzling across that anguish in his gut had him growling quietly as he rose to his feet, hands clenched into fists.

What could he possibly do?!

Crosshair paced, thinking about Wrecker, trying to think of the good, what he liked, what he loved. And so often his eyes drew back to his bed, to his suffering.

He remembered what the whole squad had been told by one Kaminoan, that it was possible Wrecker would not be the same, might even be childish after due to the damage to his head. Crosshair wanted to respect that, and—

He paused, an idea flaring bright in him, his fists relaxing slightly all on their own.

Could I…?

No. What if…?

Do it. Just in case, just do it.

Crosshair wasn’t much of a talker, yet he said to Wrecker, “Don’t worry. I’ll be back.” He tried to add you’ll be okay, but even the first word tripped him up.

He sighed, and gave Wrecker one last look for now.

He will be okay. I’ll make sure of it.

Crosshair left, guilt haunting his footsteps.

“Why are we here again?” Hunter asked as the Marauder set down on a landing pad at a busy port next to a flourishing tourist shopping center. The streets were full of color, full of so many lifeforms that Hunter wasn’t even sure he knew the names of all of them. The suns were shining, lighting up a lavender sky.

“I told you,” Crosshair said, “I have an informant here.”

Tech glanced at him, then Hunter. Hunter shrugged.

“And we can’t come along?” Hunter pressed again.

“No.”

Behind Crosshair’s back, Hunter gave a few hand signals to Tech, and Tech nodded. Crosshair almost turned in time to notice, but when he looked back Tech was looking at his datapad again, and Hunter was lounging in his seat, legs out in front of him, arms crossed.

“I’ll be back,” Crosshair said before heading off the ship.

They waited a total of thirty seconds before following after him.

To Hunter’s surprise Crosshair wandered, he talked to intimidated citizens at stalls selling all kinds of colorful toys.

Hunter motioned for Tech to keep following Crosshair. All three of them stood out in their armor, but if they hid in the crowds right, Crosshair would have no idea they were there. Hopefully.

Hunter now looked the way Crosshair had gone before crossing the busy street, towards a stall Crosshair had stopped at. He looked at the plastoid purple toy Crosshair had inspected, but it was taken from his hand by the stall-owner, an almost-pinkish colored Ithorian.

“Can I help you?” she asked via translator collar, not seeming too open to Hunter being at her stall, though she had seemed friendly enough with Crosshair, or perhaps cowed, was a better way to describe it.

“The other man in armor, what did he want?” Hunter asked.

She put a hand on her small hip. “Look, I’m here to sell toys, not talk to weird-looking clones.”

Hunter put his hands on the stall, leaning forward. “Please, what did he say?”

She shrugged, and Hunter was certainly impressed that she wasn’t the least bit intimidated by him.

“I sell toys. What do you think he wanted?”

“All right, my apologies,” Hunter said, stepping back, almost bumping into a family of grans. “So sorry,” he murmured to them, feeling out of his element amongst all these civvies.

He turned on his comm, speaking just with Tech as he looked ahead, “Where is he now?”

“Farther down the street. At another stall.”

“What is he doing?” Hunter asked.

“Clearly he has taken an interest in children’s toys, or his informant sells them. Though if the first were true I’d be rather confused. Perhaps he needs more excitement with his target practice.”

“Let’s let him be,” Hunter said, stepping aside to let a small Selkath girl with a stuffy bigger than herself pass. “We’ll meet up, and head back to the ship.”

“Oh, I think he has found something,” Tech exclaimed, just as Hunter turned to go back.

“What is it?” Hunter asked.

“He is handing over credits now. Wow, that is far too steep a price,” Tech said.

“I don’t need the personal commentary.”

“Right. Crosshair is now being handed a… Oh my. How strange.”

“What is it, Tech?”

“A tooka stuffy.”

Hunter stood with his limbs limp from the utter confusion. This was so out of character for Crosshair, so unthinkable, so strange that Hunter wanted to race down the street and interrogate him.

“We should get back before he knows we were following him.”

“Ah, about that. Too late.”

“Tell Hunter I said hi,” Crosshair said through Tech’s comm.

Now Hunter sent a signal to Crosshair. “How long did you know?”

“The whole time. What, you think I’m a sniper who wouldn’t know when he’s being watched? Your little sneaking around was cute, but you could do better. Armor stands out in a crowd.”

“Look who’s talking.”

“At least I wasn’t stalking—“

“Excuse me?”

“You were stalking me.”

“Not my fault you’re being weird.”

“It’s for a good reason.”

“This is quite nonsensical,” Tech chimed in. “We can all talk once we’re back on the ship.”

“I’m not telling you anything,” Crosshair hissed.

Hunter started heading back, telling himself he’d be fine if he didn’t know why Crosshair was acting like this, but the truth was, he was dying to know what would make Crosshair of all people buy a stuffy. Maybe he did need to liven up target practice.

Once they were back in hyperspace, Tech and Hunter turned in their seats to face the stone-faced sniper.

“Well?” Hunter asked.

“Didn’t you hear when I said I wouldn’t tell you anything?”

Tech sighed. “We’re on your side,” he pointed out. “You don’t need to have your shields up.”

Crosshair’s toothpick flicked up, like he had just bit down on it hard.

Hunter’s brows drew low.

The quiet on the ship that followed was uncomfortable, yet Hunter kept it up, knowing Crosshair probably felt uncomfortable too.

“Why a tooka?” Tech asked. “There were so many to choose from.”

Crosshair shrugged, almost angling himself towards them, the tooka stuffy out of sight as it rested in his rack. “I thought it looked nice. Seemed… huggable enough, I guess.”

Hunter gave Tech a grateful look, knowing getting the small details out of someone was often easier when starting questioning, and sometimes those tactics were needed with Crosshair. Hunter tended to forget and just went head to head with him.

“I like the colors,” Tech commented.

“Yeah. The, uh… the red’s nice, I guess,” Crosshair admitted, leaning back in his seat, maybe getting more comfortable. “How much more time till we’re back on Kamino?” he asked. 

His foot started tapping, his face was all hard lines.

Hunter thought just maybe he was starting to put the picture together, but since he wasn’t sure yet, he kept the soft smile off his face. Though the warmth of it bloomed in his chest, nonetheless.

Crosshair fiddled with his firepuncher in his bunk on Kamino, the stuffed tooka resting by his hip. He’d chewed through five toothpicks already, and thrown two of at Hunter.

Wrecker had been put under for yet another surgery, so he couldn’t give him his surprise just yet.

Again the helplessness crawled in, it tugged at him, dragging him down, making it almost difficult to move. His chest ached, digging a deeper and deeper hole in him.

“I’m sure Wrecker will be out of surgery soon,” Hunter said. “He was already under when we got back.”

“What could they be doing this time?” Crosshair hissed.

“According to the medbay records—” Tech began.

“Are you even supposed to have those?” Hunter asked.

“Strictly speaking, no. As I was saying, this is slated to be quite a long procedure as they are trying to save his eye.”

Crosshair hung his head, barrel of his rifle cool against his skin. He squeezed his eyes shut, wondering how Wrecker would even handle all this once he did wake up.

Even in his own pain, Crosshair kept to his silence, and he waited.

Crosshair squeezed his hands tightly together, mouth drawing into a thin line. The white of the medbay surrounded him as he sat by Wrecker’s bed, willing his body to utter stillness, to draw from his great wealth of patience.

Wrecker’s color looked better than last he’d seen him, and he wasn’t writhing in pain, face pulled into a grimace from it. Wrecker hadn’t been allowed visitors after his surgery, but Tech and Hunter had snuck him in with few questions asked, and Crosshair had placed the tooka stuffy under one of his arms. He had given up on stealth then and ushered the others in.

Now the three of them waited for Wrecker to wake up. Crosshair had wanted to do this privately, at first, but he realized having Hunter and Tech silently supporting him meant a lot. It meant a lot to him that they seemed to understand his need to help Wrecker in some way—any way he possibly could. Besides, Wrecker was their brother too.

Hunter almost put a hand on Crosshair’s shoulder, but a quick glance had him pulling it back.

Tech was busy looking at the machines Wrecker was hooked up to. Crosshair occasionally did the same. He understood most of what he saw on them, not through training, but by having grown up an experimental clone, having been hooked up to many machines himself.

Wrecker grumbled, and he turned his head.

His eyes seemed to almost open, but he groaned now.

Kriff, was he in pain? Crosshair stood, ready to get a Kaminoan in here and demand he be given an opioid or local anesthetic, something! Then Wrecker said, voice a bit muddled, “Ow.”

“Hey, Wrecker,” Hunter said, tone gentle.

Wrecker turned to the sound of his voice. “Sarge?”

“Yeah, I’m here. We all are.”

“What’s…” Wrecker shifted his right arm, hand drifting close to the tooka stuffy. “What’s this?”

He opened his eyes, body moving slowly as he grabbed the stuffy. He blinked against all the bright light as he held it up.

“A tooka?” he asked, sounding as high as Crosshair hoped he was (from pain meds, of course).

“Yes,” Tech said. “It’s…” He turned to Crosshair, clearly not sure if he was allowed to say this part. Crosshair gave him a gentle nod. “It’s for you,” he finished.

“For… me?”

“Who else?” Hunter asked.

“Stop, I can’t think. Ow.”

“Are you in pain?” Crosshair asked, feeling like an idiot for even asking.

“Only a little,” Wrecker assuaged.

He squeezed the stuffy, then left it against his chest. “Hmm.”

There were quite a few minutes of Wrecker coming back to himself, and Crosshair didn’t say much, now almost blushing at the silly thing he’d done for his brother.

“Lula,” Wrecker eventually murmured in between drinking water and eating a ration bar (all in slow sips and bites, respectively).

“What?” Crosshair asked.

He lifted up his tooka stuffy, a gentle joy in his eye, a small smile on his face. “I’m gonna name her Lula.”

Crosshair’s guilt faded away, like it was washed clean by the breaking of a storm, a cooling rain, and his muscles relaxed. He almost smiled, but would always deny it thereafter. He placed a toothpick in his mouth, and leaned back, eyeing Wrecker and his stuffy.

“Lula’s a good name.”

[waywardsou2]

Summer of Bad Batch Week 7

Little Lula I drew a while back :)

[sayorseee]

it’s cold outside but my heart is warm (you and me at christmas)

Years after a disastrous falling out, Charlotte is forced by Mother Nature to confront the issues of her past when a scheduling mishap and a snowstorm trap her in a cabin with Henry Hart for three days. Merry freaking Christmas.

Read on ao3: Chapter 1: The Car Breaks Down | Chapter 2: The Fireplace Chat | Chapter 3: Christmas Eve Eve (Everything’s Fucked) | Chapter 4: Genuine Moments

word count: 9,745; rated Mature

[casp1an-sea]

So one day me and my friend were doing a Star Wars role play when I just randomly said

“Imagine bad batch but wrecker ×2”

and he said

“That... would be amazing”

so then we made this

—————————————————————————

Wrecker Squared A bad Batch Crack fic

Wrecker: Wait... Did I hit my head again

Wrecker 2: (says exact same thing at the same time)

(They both realize they're real and get really excited Omega joining in with them. Hunter and Echo are in shock)

Tech: (seemingly unshaped not even looking up from computer) Interesting.

(A 3rd Wrecker walks up)

Wrecker 3: Wait… Did I hit my head again?

(Echo faints. Omega goes to see if Echo’s okay) 

Hunter: What the hell… Wrecker!???? (Frantically looking at each one)

(All three look at Hunter at the same time)

3 Wreckers: What?

Tech: (still looking at computer) Hm

Hunter: (to tech) You know there's three of him, right?

Tech: (no emotion) Of course I do, it's quite obvious

(Echo comes to just as a 4th wrecker comes in repeating the "did I hit my head line" and Echo faints again)

All wreckers: Wait does that mean there are 4 lulas!!!!

Omega: (pulls 4 loolas out of thin air) Uh, apparently! (Hands them to the wreckers)

(The wreckers are going crazy. Echo has come to again.)

Hunter: Omega? What did you do!

Echo: Someone better stop this or they're going to destroy the ship!

Hunter and Echo: Tech?

Tech: Yes?

Hunter and Echo: WHAT DO WE DO

Tech: Oh? I'm not sure.

Echo: What do you mean your not sure? You're always sure!

Tech: Well *long scientific explanation that no one understands*

Hunter and Echo: What?

Omega: He mean's he's confused

Tech: Yes, to use layman's terms, I am confused.

(All wreckers start acting like gorillas or some other primitive animal. They begin tearing up the ship)

 Hunter: Well stop being confused!

Tech: Well I guess we could-

Echo: Simple explanation please!

Tech: Well the only plausible thing would be to get all but the original wrecker off the ship, which they are destroying, meaning we need someone or something to lure them off the ship... and well figure out which is the real wrecker of course.

Omega: I can lure him off the ship. I may even be able to tell the difference between him and the fakes.

Hunter: Are you sure you can do this?

Omega: Yes, Hunter. I got this. Hey, Wrecker!

(All wreckers look up) Yes?

Omega: Guess what? The mission's over.

Wrecker 1: Yay, Mentel Mix!

Other Wreckers: Huh?

Omega: (to Hunter) Found him.

Hunter: Omega go get Mentel mix with real wrecker we'll Handel the other 3!

Omega: Sounds good. Come on, Wrecker.

(Omega and the real wrecker leave)

Echo: Wish me luck! (Runs into the crowd of Wreckers who are tossing the Lulas around, grabs one and then bolts out of the ship)

Wrecker 2: Hey! You stole our Lula!

(All three run off the ship. Hunter and tech follow)

Echo: Hunter go long! (Throws the lula Hunter catches it then throws it to tech)

(Things go on like this for a bit till Echo, Tech, and Hunter grab the real Lula bolt onto the ship and close the hatch. The wreckers charg toward the hatch)

Hunter: Tech! Get us out of here! 

Echo: What about Omega and Wrecker?

Hunter: We're picking up somewhere else

(Meanwhile omega and wrecker are just eating Mentel mix somewhere)

—————————————————————————

This was written just after seasons 1 wrapped up I believe, Here you go @here-comes-the-moose

I’ll tag other people later I’m lazy rn

[deejadabbles]

A Tooka for a Puppy (Wrecker Comfort Fluff)

Idk if this has been done before, but I just really love the idea of making plushies for Wrecker, so I wrote a mini fic about the idea. This is a reader insert but the relationship between you and Wrecker isn't explicitly romantic, can be read as platonic. Also the title is based off the fact that Wrecker is a giant puppy <3

Nightmares were not unheard of on the Marauder and unfortunately, you had grown too familiar with what each crew member sounded like when the woke from them.

It was your lookout shift and, though you had been curled up with your favorite blanket in the pilot chair, you knew you needed something to drink if you were going to make it the rest of watch. You were glad you had gotten up when you did.

Just as you were pouring your drink, you heard a clatter, the muffled sounds of ragged breathing following

You were by Wrecker's side in an instant. Even as you stroked his back- his usual calming method, he scrambled around his bunk for something, desperate and still breathing hard. It took the better part of ten minutes to calm him down enough to ask what he was looking for.

"Lula," he had said, voice graveled and shaken, "I keep thinking I lost her in the middle of the night. Forget I gave her to the kid."

Wrecker had one of the kindest hearts in the galaxy, that you were sure. He practically begged you not to mention his nightmares in front of Omega.

"Don't want her to try 'an give Lula back. She needs her more than me."

It made your heart ache. No one ever gave Wrecker enough credit for his deep wealth of empathy.

You had to do something. If he didn't have Lula, maybe a whole new tooka was in order. It took several days, even though you were between missions at the moment- sewing supplies weren't exactly common on the Marauder. Some things from the med-bay's stitching helped and as for material...well, the aforementioned favorite blanket, its fabric was a decent enough mimic of tooka fur.

Now you were standing in the hallway to the bunks, waiting for Wrecker to switch off his watch shift with Hunter. You heard his thudding footfalls first, then a loud yawn as he ducked through the door way.

He blinked a little when he saw you but quickly had that cute smile on.

"I've got a surprise for you."

Wrecker's face was alight in an instant, he loved getting presents, especially since they were so rare. "Oooo! What is it, what is it?!"

Slowly, and maybe a little sheepishly, you pulled your hand from behind your back, "I know she's not Lula, but, I thought maybe a new Tooka could help you sleep better."

He all but froze as he stared down at the stuffed animal. As if he were afraid it was made of glass, he raised his hand, not even daring to grab it as he just brushed his fingers along the fabric.

"You...you made this?"

You nodded.

"For me?"

A little chuckle, "Yes, Wrecker. You were so sweet, giving Lula to Omega even though you still need her, I just wanted you to have-"

Before your sentence was even finished, big arms scooped you up and hoisted you off your feet. Wrecker all but buried his face in your shoulder as he spun you around, that boyish laugh bubbling in his throat.

Though, even when the motion slowed, he stayed like that a moment longer, arms wrapped around you and forehead braced against your neck. When Wrecker finally pulled back you thought you saw a glimmer of tears in the crinkled corner of his eyes.

You smiled back at him, and pressed the doll into his hands. He hugged it to his chest- but his face fell just a bit as his thumb ran over the fuzzy material.

"She looks like that blanket you love!" he gasped, mind putting two and two together.

You shrugged, "Eh, I've been needing to get a new one for awhile, figured it could make a better tooka than a cover."

His expression said he didn't quite believe you, but, because this was Wrecker, he just pulled that determined grin. "First chance I get, I'm gonna get you the BEST blanket in the galaxy!"

That made you laugh, there he went again, thinking of others, "Thanks, Wrecker."

"No, thank you! " he pulled you into a one armed hugged this time, cheek resting on your head as he said, "You're the best."

A content sigh left you when you returned the gesture, enjoying the soft warmth of the embrace. "Nah, you are big guy."

[theemporium]

if i post a wee blurb for a new boyfriend, will you guys be nice?🥹

[lian-fang-zun]

Having trouble sleeping: ZCG x Reader

Foreword Note:

Does this even,,, count as a fill lmao...I just got inspired by one of @nasuversekinkmeme's older prompts to write a reader insert fic with FSR Zheng Chenggong in FGO's setting and the reader character ended up being a bit thirsty lol... Anyway, uh. Zheng Chenggong is probably also a little OOC even by my usual standards of 'imagining how different he'd be as a Servant compared to his FSR appearance based on historical records' characterization for him, mostly for self-indulgence reasons orz.

-

“[Y/N].”

It was one thing to be awoken by literally anyone else, or any other Servant for that matter – Mash included. But to be woken up by him… It was a surefire way to jolt awake from your state of near-sleep at least, blinking rapidly in an attempt to get the spots out of your line of vision.

Though, being able to focus on Zheng Chenggong’s expression to your side was not…exactly an improvement. Mostly because you immediately felt blood rush to your face upon realizing that he must have seen your hair in disarray, and probably the trail of drool out of the corner of your mouth – something you hastily tried to wipe away when you realized.

“Wh-What…?” you mumbled somewhat defensively, straightening up under the intensity of his stare. “I only fell asleep…”

“And not at your bed, [Y/N],” he replied, arms crossed. “Surely you remember that this is not the first time.”

What else could you do but laugh nervously at this? It wasn’t like he was wrong – you’d developed a bad habit of falling asleep in random places ever since you’d joined Chaldea in the first place, and being at Novum Chaldea has hardly done anything to quell it. Irregular schedules when dealing with Singularities and Lostbelts would do that to a person, even setting aside the AP crashes when the adrenaline brought on by using Golden Apples ran dry.

Not that, of course, that was the only reason for the irregular sleep schedule…

Zheng Chenggong promptly – and undoubtedly inadvertently – made this apparent when he suddenly knelt closer to you and rested a hand on your forehead, a slight crease in his brows as he went on, tone hardening, “And with your state like this – [Y/N], go to bed right now. You’re at your limit.”

“O-Or what?” you stammered back, your retort hindered by how flustered you were by the distance having suddenly closed between you two. It was, in some ways, utterly unfair to have Servants who were exceedingly oblivious to the effects their good looks had on the people around them, and Zheng Chenggong was rather unfortunately one of them. “Wh – What are you gonna do if I don’t?”

It was probably not the smartest question to ask someone who could and has ordered executions – many of them, in fact – without batting an eye for his men’s failures. Or someone who had, once, ordered his firstborn son and his principal wife to be executed – even if it was in a fit of madness, and wasn’t even carried through by his executioners. But you weren’t exactly in a state of mind to be rational about this.

And thankfully, as a Servant, Zheng Chenggong had no intention to repeat that sordid part of his history. Instead, he pulled back, regarding you silently for a moment, before reaching over to hoist you up and over his shoulder.

“Wh – !?”

You yelped, flailing on instinct as he stood up, effortlessly carrying you as he made his way to the library exit. Thankfully, nobody – not even Murasaki – was around on the way there to notice, otherwise this would be even more embarrassing. “What are you doing, Zheng – !?”

“Taking you to bed, of course.”

The way he worded it made it evident he had not the slightest inkling how compromising the current position must have looked, with the way his Master was draped over his shoulder. It was honestly almost infuriating that even after all this time, other Servants – like a certain general of Eastern Wu – had better luck flustering Zheng Chenggong than you did.

But then again…this was probably the closest you’ll ever come to the fantasies that played out in your head the few times you were in bed, often keeping you up all night. Seeing your Servants’ parameters was one thing, but experiencing displays of them was another – and of particular interest most of the time was the Strength parameter.

And B was a particularly high rank for Strength, after all…especially for a Heroic Spirit who was from the 17th century…

In fact, you were so caught up in wondering what else he could do with a high Strength parameter that you didn’t notice when he’d stopped at the side of your bed to deposit you unceremoniously on it. Landing in a heap on your bed was decidedly not a romantic ending to any sort of scenario, imagined or not.

“Ugh…” With a groan, you sat up, trying to glare at approximately where your Servant must be in the darkness of your bedroom. “What was – what was that for?”

A slight clink of the armor he often wore (the only thing between you and tearing off the robes on his body, your traitorous mind reminded you) was all that alerted you before you felt his hands not-so-gently (and yet, with none of the roughness he would have shown most others) push you down into a lying position. There wasn’t any point in resisting the force that it took to do that, so you reluctantly succumbed. At least your pillow and mattress were comfortable as always…

“ – You asked what I would do if you were to refuse to go to bed.” Was that a shift in the darkness? Possibly. You could only guess. “That is my answer.”

One hell of a way to answer that, you thought, even as you snuggled under the covers more to avoid…well, you weren’t sure what you were avoiding. It wasn’t like you could lift yourself out of bed right now to find out.

But your imagination ran a bit wild in the meantime. It was a little easier to do that when you could only barely make out Zheng Chenggong’s outline, and only then through the crack between the door and the doorframe – this made it easier to fill in the details with what you were envisioning. Just because he has armor on doesn’t mean you can ignore how broad his shoulders are…hell, if anything, the shoulder armor really emphasizes it. And that wasn’t even getting into the fact that if one were to somehow manage to pull it all off – the armor, at least – it would be easier to feel at the muscles concealed underneath the robes…

“Master.” The enunciation of your title, crisp and blunt, shattered the trance you were in as you stared ahead at him, not realizing he’d already moved to the door. “Go to sleep.”

“I-I will!” you protested back, even as you made an admirable effort to close your eyes. It wasn’t until the door shut behind him that you finally opened your eyes again, knowing full well you weren’t getting any sleep once again.

Especially since the traitorous thoughts from before only got worse when he wasn’t around.

[merthurians-prat-and-idiot]

Post 8x06 Abby coda

(8x06 spoilers!)

Abby's just scrolling on Instagram one night and she gets a suggested page and huh its Tommy Kinnard- the man she almost married. It doesn't hurt more than a slight throb now- she has Sam & the girls and she wouldn't change that. So she's a little curious and maybe nostalgic and clicks on his profile. Its kind of what she expected, work, cars, some sporting matches & martial arts videos- but he looks- lighter, happier. Good. She's about to click off when she catches a familiar face appearing in the little boxes posted more recently. Is that... It's him alright. Same sunshine smile & truly ridiculous arms. Buck's leaning on a car in the first picture, all long legs casually crossed, squinting slightly in the sun. Huh. Abby guesses it's not that unusual- first responders usually end up casting their nets back into the same lake, making friends in the same profession. Plus, Tommy had worked at the 118 back in the day. She shakes her head slightly and scrolls up, this time catching on another photo of Tommy and Buck. And oh- they're both in a dimly lit restaurant, Tommy squeezed in beside Buck to get in frame and Buck's kissing Tommy's cheek. "Six months! Time flies 🚁" is the caption. Does that mean? She clicks on Buck's username that's tagged and gets to his page, flicking past photos until she sees Tommy. There's a photo posted the same day of Tommy leaning out of the cockpit of a stationary helicopter with a grin. "My boyfriend is cooler than yours 💓" Wow. Not a bad wow- just- the dating pool really is small in the world of first responders. And apparently her, Buck and Tommy have the same taste in men. She exhales a laugh. And then finds herself promptly frowning as Buck's feed changes. There's still posts but, all the photos- Buck with an adorable little girl baking, team photos, a selfie with some vaguely familiar actor decked out in turnouts- in all of them he looks slightly sad, stubble grown out when he can and eyes missing their spark. Abby flits back to Tommy's profile to confirm her suspicions- they disappear from each other's feed right after the six month posts. Well, that's that she supposes. Wherever they are now, she hopes they're doing okay. Both of them deserve the love she now has everyday. And Buck- Abby got the sense he didn't think he would get to keep it (she knows she didn't help with that). She sighs again and casts one last glance at her ex-boyfriend's page. After Tommy disappears theres suddenly an influx of pictures with that firefighter who was there the night of the train derailment- Teddy? Was that his name? The last photo posted is dated 12 hours ago and he's squished into the side of the other man, their arms around each other. Where Buck's grinning at the camera, the mystery firefighter only has eyes for his companion, a soft smile on his face.

Ah. Buck's going to be just fine.

[hermionegalathynius]

Found Family (5/?)

I cannot tell you all how much your support of my writing means to me. I’m so sorry this took so long. If I’m being honest, the next part might take even longer (just because I’m busy with college exams and uni applications… the stress levels are REAL high right now) but I want you to know I love reading your comments and I smile every time someone reacts to my posts. Anyway, here we go!

Fandom: Now You See Me

Pairing: Daniel Atlas x Reader

Warnings: some swearing, read at your own discretion.

  “Can’t we all — just once — stay in the same place for more than a few weeks at a time?” you sighed, climbing in the back of the car with Merritt and Danny. 

  “I agree that that would be nice, but currently we have no control over where we go and when. Literally, considering we entered the tube in New York and were spat out in Macau,” Danny said, letting you rest your head on his shoulder tiredly. 

  “It’s all about blind spots,” Merritt’s brother said once the car began moving through the streets of Macau, “When you’re staring straight at something and not see it. Why? Blind spots! We learnt that together, didn’t we, bro?”

  Merritt grunted, staring blankly at the floor. You nudged his foot with yours gently, trying to comfort him. He flashed a small, grateful smile. 

  “Did he tell you that we were partners, once?” Chase continued, “No? I didn’t think so. The ‘Mini-McKinneys’.”

  “Cool,” Lula said flatly.

  “And then one day, we were 12, and Virginia von Welsheim had a very nice party down the street. I had a little tum-tum, couldn’t go. Mer-Bear did it on his own and got a taste of the solo thing, and uh… and kicked me to the curb.”

  “Oh god,” Danny muttered. You nudged him in the side for insensitivity. 

  Merritt sighed, “Chase, you win! I concede. Just tell me how you did it.”

  Chase grinned, “Delivery came to your door about a month ago… a little za?”

  “Za?” Danny asked.

  “Pizza,” Merritt told him, then addressing his brother, “Huh?”

  “Yeah, so what he did, my little womb-mate, is he downloaded all of your private information and my employer had all he needed.”

  You could feel Danny glaring at Merritt for accusing him of being the leak. You rolled your eyes at his ability to hold a grudge. 

  “Thanks,” Danny said to Merritt sarcastically, then turning to Chase, “How did you know how to find him?”

  “That’s a very good question, Atlas,” Chase said, miming locking his mouth closed and throwing away the key. 

  “Okay,” Danny said, frustration bleeding from his tone. 

  “Danny, I swear to god, don’t make Merritt feel worse about this than he already does,” you whispered so only he could hear. 

  “He’s a hypocrite, Y/n,” Danny hissed.

  You just took your head off his shoulder and shifted away from him, too angry to care about how tired you were in that moment. Why couldn’t he just let it go? 

  The car pulled in to what looked like a casino and stopped at the front door. The Horsemen got out, flanked by more armed guards. 

  “Just follow the guards, they’ll take you to my boss,” Chase said with a grin, “Been fun playing this cat-and-mouse with you, broski. Meow.”

  Merritt rubbed his eyes with his middle fingers. You found a grim sort of satisfaction in that. 

  “Have fun at the Sands,” Chase called as the car pulled away again and you were escorted into the casino. 

  “I am so, so, so sorry,” Merritt said to Danny. You watched wearily from behind them, hoping Danny swallowed his pride for once. 

  “Yeah, you should be.” Of course not. “Don’t ever accuse me of betraying us again, okay?”

  You scoffed, quickening your steps to walk past him and get him out of your eyesight. Unfortunately, the guards led you to an elevator where you were forced to stand in the back and watch as Danny walked in and caught your eye, cocking his head at your glare, and resting his hand against the wall. Your heart thumped loudly at the sight, adding to your frustration. God dammit, he was not allowed to look that good when you were angry with him!

  “Do you guys ever think that the Eye is watching this?” Lula asked next to you, breaking the sullen silence, “You know, that maybe this is even what they want? And at the exact right moment they’re going to swoop in, and we’ll be like, ‘Yes! Thank God you’re here! Thank God! Just in the nick of time, Eye!’ And then we’ll just celebrate, and it was all worth it in the end?”

  Silence. You swallowed, still gazing at Danny. 

  “I don’t even really think that either, so… It’s cool.”

  The elevator door pinged, and opened up behind you. Some sort of rock music blared as the five of you turned around. A man stood in front of huge, floor-length windows looking out on Macau. His leg jerked in time with the music as he flicked a playing card back and forth between his hands. 

  You were shoved out of the elevator by the guards as the man turned around and exclaimed, “Ah! Ta-da! So happy to be working with you! Please, come in, come in!”

  The guards shoved you further, and you winced as one of them elbowed you in the ribs, a soft huff leaving your mouth. 

  “Hey! Hands off her, buddy,” Danny said, stepping between you and the guard. You swallowed down the warmth blooming in your chest at his words, desperately trying to cling to the anger you had held for him just moments earlier. It was a pointless exercise, but damn you if you didn’t try. 

  “Wait, sorry, how are you working with us?” he asked, still standing in front of you which forced you to peer at the stranger over his shoulder. 

  “Oh, well, as much as a magician who pulls a rabbit from a hat is working with that rabbit,” the man explained, pulling on a pair of very expensive looking slippers and walking over his koi-pond floor, “We'll be working together. Yes. Allow me to introduce myself.”

  “Yeah, you’re Walter Mabry,” you stated, stepping out from behind Danny. 

  “You died a year ago,” Jack clarified. 

  “Yes!” Mabry exclaimed, “An idea I got from you, Mr Wilder! Fake your death and the world puts its guard down.”

  You glanced at Lula who stood to your left — she seemed just as overwhelmed as you felt. 

  “I’m able to control quite a few companies, including my old partner Owen’s, as a consortium of so-called anonymous shareholders,” Mabry continued. 

  “And that violates how many SEC laws?” Lula asked. 

  “I believe it breaks all of them,” Mabry answered casually. 

  “All of them,” Lula repeated dryly.

  How could everything have gone so wrong, you thought, dread curling in your gut. This man was obviously unstable, and had no qualms with breaking laws and risking going to jail. Who knew what he was really capable of when pushed?

  “You see, you all want an audience. Need one, desperately. It’s quite sad really,” he directed this at Danny who’s jaw twitched in irritation. You gripped his wrist gently, silently begging him to keep his cool, “I, on the other hand, want the opposite of that. I just want to be, and I am, one hundred percent off the grid. You know why?”

  “Yeah, because the grid is for actual human beings,” Danny quipped, making you grip his wrist tighter. He sent an apologetic glance your way, twisting his hand to grab yours. 

  Mabry was infuriated for a total of zero point five seconds before giving Danny a chillingly calm smile, “No, because in a world of total surveillance, the only true freedom lies in not being seen. You can’t control the grid from within the grid. Follow me.”

  He began walking off. When you didn’t follow him he repeated, “Follow me!”

  “Okay, alright.”

  The guards pushed you forward and the five of you followed Mabry as he spoke. 

  “You pulled a hat out of a rabbit,” he said, turning to Lula, “That was very colourful.”

  She sighed, “Almost eight and a half years ago, so, no need to bring that up.”

  You yourself winced at the memory. Mabry was wrong, there had been an abundance of one colour in particular — red. 

  Mabry grinned and instead turned to Danny, “We can’t all be held accountable for our adolescent personas, can we, Magicolio?”

  Your eyes widened and you whirled on Danny who’s jaw ticked in irritation, “Magicolio… that was fifteen years ago.”

  Oh, you were definitely going to use this. It was gold. 

  “Don’t get me wrong,” Mabry continued, very obviously enjoying his main character moment, “Like you, and many others I suppose, who were not getting any sex in high school, I dabbled with it.” Merritt pointed at Danny who shook his head. “But, uh, unlike you, I was able to transition upward towards actual magic.”

  He gestured to the side where there stood what looked like a giant, shiny server, “Science, you may have heard it called. So would you like to know, my friends, just how I got you here?”

  “We know how you did it,” you stated, having figured that out on the ride here. 

  “No you don’t,” Mabry said sharply. 

  “Yeah, you stole our files from the show,” Merritt drawled, “then obviously hypnotised us.”

  “No, seriously, stop.”

  “The strobe was a combo of binaural beats, as well as…”

  “I said stop!” Mabry yelled, grabbing the sides of Merritt’s neck. The mentalist looked down at the shorter man, a little disturbed. Danny gripped your hand tighter, “You might not be having fun, but I am.”

  “You have an unusual way of showing it,” Merritt mused.

  Mabry ignored his comment and stepped back, clapping his hands together and grinning excitedly,” So... How did I do it? Easy. You see, magicians like to control other people's perceptions. In your heightened state of agitation, you saw the simplest cues — Black tube, roof — and your minds filled in the rest.”

  “Shit,” you muttered, mentally kicking yourself for not keeping your head during the chaos.

  “But the tube you meant to go down was 20 feet to your right,” Mabry finished smugly, “Go on, sit down. There's no one

standing in your way.”

  “Don’t mind if I do,” Merritt quipped, settling onto the couch. 

  With slight caution, you followed his lead, Danny plopping down next to you. To your dismay, Mabry squeezed in between you and Lula.

  “Anyway, once in the tube, yes you’re right. Blah blah blah, the strobe contained UV letters pulsing the word ‘sleep’, and this combined with the sound put you into an instant alpha pattern.”

  The image of the flashing lights in the tube resurfaced in your mind’s eye and you tried not to wince at the reality of it. You had been tricked. All of you. Dylan too, probably. Not to mention you were now at the mercy of this clearly unhinged not-dead billionaire with a god complex. 

  “And from then on,” Mabry continued, “it really was just fun, and I can assure you, you don’t know what happened.”

  With that he clicked the remote and a power point was displayed on the screen in front of you. The opening slide was black with the words ‘Our trip to Macau’ in white typing. The next slide cleared everything up. 

  “That’s really creepy,” You stated, cautiously eyeing the photograph of your unconscious self lying with your head in Danny’s lap as he leaned on Mabry who was giving the camera the finger. 

  “Really, really creepy,” Lula agreed.

  “That’s not cool,” you said, shaking your head. 

  “Yep, easy stuff, magic, if you put your mind to it,” Mabry said cheerfully. You wanted to claw his eyes out. This urge was heightened when the next photo showed draped over Mabry’s lap, your head resting on his shoulder. 

  Danny tensed next to you.

  “Alright, that’s enough,” he interjected, “So why are we here then? You know, besides you getting to show off how adorably clever you are?” 

  “Well to start with, the man you stole from last year. Turns out I had invested a lot of money in some of his companies so a lot of what you stole, was in fact mine.” Mabry said, his cheerful tone completely at odds with the accusation.

  “It’s a small world,” you muttered, rolling your eyes. It figured this lunatic was after money. Or revenge. Either was enough to satisfy people like him.

  “Good news is, it’s very easy for you to pay me back! I just need your… skills.”

Taglist:

@Pulling-out-my-eyes

@Nightmaredressedlikeadaydream57

[lucifer-is-a-bag-of-dicks]

Spotify I didn't need all of my top five Wrapped songs to be Dabi coded okay I didn't need you holding a mirror up to me like that

[totallylulalutiacreations]

"Don't worry, I'll be to bed soon...Just finishing this chapter."

[lanliingwang]

ik this is moreso true for the historical jiang ziya and fgo doesn't emphasize on it likely due to drawing from his iteration in fengshen yanyi, but like...lowkey wish more people in the fgo fandom would acknowledge that jiang ziya was a dad tbh