#maybe like 65% fair.

[neednothavehappenedtobetrue]

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah

[snoopychris]

TA!matt discovering camgirl!reader online

warnings: masturbation, kinda sub!matt, matt's kind of an ass, cammy used in place of y/n

11:03am

“ok… professor thomas isn’t here today. you guys are stuck with me. i’m not legally… allowed to teach so just. do whatever. you can leave if you want.” matt speaks, his voice booming clearly throughout the room. the tests you had taken the week before were sitting face down in front of each seat. you’re almost scared to look at your grade. your friend, melissa, takes her seat next to you, flipping her page over instantly.

“78. how’d you do cammy?” she asks, glancing at the marks on her paper before you flip yours over. 65. “what the hell?” you whisper, looking around the room. nobody else seems to be freaking out over their scores. you make your way to matt’s temporary desk, setting your paper down. “a 65?” you mumble, glancing between matt and the paper. he sets his phone down on the desk, looking up at you. “well, yeah. your determinants were wrong and you did the wrong method. i was being generous with the grade.” 

you shake your head in disbelief, glancing over matt’s features. “i didn’t… i was so confident in… is there anything you can do for me?” you whisper, biting your lip so hard that it begins to bleed. matt shakes his head, flipping through his textbook. “do the problems on page 117. give them to me on friday and ill use some of those as proof that you know what you’re doing. daddy’s money can’t pay its way through college” you scoffed at his words. sure, you had a lot of materialistic things, always having the best backpack, the best notebook, dressed in the best clothes, but was always from your own pocket. “that’s not fair.” “oh no... you actually have to work for something for once. crazy isn’t it?” matt replies, looking back down at the papers he was grading. 

it feels like the walk of shame on your way back to your seat. when you sit down, melissa elbows your ribs, making you chuckle. “i mean shit, cammy, i’d give anything for him to talk to me like that. at least he’s hot though, right cammy?” “i’d never ever think that man was attractive. i would never. ever. do anything with him. matter of fact. hit me if i ever do.” 

11:03 pm.

matt had been going through the worst dry spell of his life. chris and nick had been making fun of him for it nonstop. he just felt desperate. in the back of his mind, he knew what he was doing was pathetic and probably frowned upon by some people. a wednesday night isn’t typically spent looking through a camgirl website hoping that one of them is cheap enough for him to afford them walking him through an orgasm. he was twenty two years old for gods sake. he shouldn’t be doing… whatever this was. the girls on his screen were all beautiful. they all had a confidence he wishes he could have. he didn’t judge the girls on the other side. he’s been desperate for money too. it’d be a lie to say that he hadn’t considered pornography. the scrolling continued for a while, only coming to a halt when he saw a free livestream.

on the other side of the city, you were growing bored. there can’t have possibly been that many other cam girls available at this time on a wednesday night. you had been live for about an hour, talking to nobody other than yourself. your face was hidden from the camera, only your lips and lower body visible. still, with no audience, you tried your best to make it seem like you were doing anything. a bullet vibrator sat near your clit, attached to your fingers by a holster. it was off, and you weren’t doing anything other than moving it in circles. maybe this whole free thing hadn’t been the best ideas. your face brightens slightly when a user finally joins. mateo81. “hello mateo… y’got yourself a private show tonight. everybody’s too busy for me.” you pout, your voice covered by a voice changer. they were common on this app. 

matt thinks it’s almost too corny. then again… you look good. just his type. and free. he would’ve paid if he had too. was it too good to be true? he should find out right? matt puts the website on full screen, typing a message out in the chat. completely free? NSA?

“completely free mateo… no strings attached.” you smile, tapping your bullet vibrator on the camera. “unless you wanna tip. i do a free stream every once in a while… you got lucky today and got it allllll for yourself. you’re gonna be such a good boy for me aren’t you?” you whisper, your voice like silk. usually matt’s not into this stuff. he’s not submissive. there’s something about you that’s making him do it all. he types another message, swallowing roughly. he doesn’t even remember getting as hard as he is right now. please. so hard rn. he pushes his boxers down, staring intently at the screen. every word you say is like a potion, drawing him further under your spell. he hopes there’s no antidote. 

you chuckle as you turn your vibrator on, holding it on your clothed clit. you bite your lip, holding back a small moan as you await another message. how much for you to take it off? you giggle once more, shrugging your shoulders as you press your tits together with one hand. “just gotta ask nicely baby…” you smile, slipping the small panties—if you could even call them that— off of your figure. 

matt watches with full attention as you do so, fisting his cock faster and faster. he wasn’t trying to cum so fast, but he had gone so long without any form of release that he felt like he had to. besides, it’s not like you’d see him. the precum that was coating his tip is rubbed away gently when matt rubs a thumb over his slit, biting the hem of his t-shirt as he reaches his first orgasm of the night. he doesn’t send a message regarding his cum coated hand, but opts to send one anyway. tits look nice. he hopes he doesn’t sound too pathetic or weird. 

your top is quickly discarded, gently jiggling your breasts on the camera for the person watching over the screen. matt groans at the sight, his sticky hand beginning to move up and down again. you continue to rub the vibrating toy on your clit, letting out small whines and whimpers. you always made it a point to not fake moan like other cam girls. you’d rather be authentic than seem fake and money hungry like some girls on the app were. 

“you’re doing such a good job… wish i could touch you right now. bet you’re dripping aren’t you? you dripping out of your dick over the fact that i’m fuckin myself with this toy for you?” matt could hardly type at this point with how covered in cum his hands were. he didn’t even remember having a second orgasm. or a third. but he knows that he did.  your words were making him feel something so different than anything he’s ever felt before.

with shaky hands, he types a yes, sending it to your screen—wherever you are. you chuckle at the message , pouting your lips for your sole viewer. “such a good boy mateo. so so good… fuck i’m gonna cum… gonna cum for you okay? do it with me yeah? unless you’ve already done it… won’t judge you…” he nods even though you can’t see him, meeting his climax once more. you whine loudly as you release, your body squirming as the feeling takes over. “f-fuck.” you whisper, pressing a small lip gloss kiss to the camera. matt chuckles at the sight, using his discarded shorts to clean himself off. 

his computers pointer moves to the follow button, clicking it as he begins typing a message in the chat. this was fun. do it again sometime? i’ll actually pay haha. he sighs of relief when you nod on camera, giggling quietly. “i can’t wait. i gotta go now. have to pee and all. i’ll see you next time okay, mateo?” you smile, turning your live stream off. matt feels a pang of sadness when he audibly says goodbye and gets no reply.

he glances at his clock, noticing that the minutes are just ticking by. there’s still a pile of math tests on his desk waiting to be graded. he throws his head back and groans, standing up to wash his hands before sitting back down at his work area. the first test he grades is almost a perfect score. 98%. he always tries to avoid names when grading test to avoid any unintentional bias. he chuckles to himself when he reads the name after he’s done grading it. cammy.

you whine as you shut your laptop, walking into the kitchen. you’re still in minimal clothes after putting your top back, but it’s decent enough to be seen by your roommate. he walks into the room, clapping slowly at your performance on the other side of the wall. “you did great, cammy. truly. always put on a show! you get this months rent yet?” he asks, handing you a cloth towel for you to wipe off any sweat with. you chuckle at his words, downing the water bottle in your hand. “free show tonight tucker. y’shoulda seen em! all… one of them! the art of camming is dying and i am going to bring it back. mark my words.” tucker chuckles at your words, grabbing his own water from the fridge. he pops it open, taking a long swig before ruffling your hair. “no judgement here. i support your whore career so long as you support my music career.” you can’t help but smile at his words, knowing he’s being genuine. he supports you in everything that you do. he always has. “yeah whatever. you’re such a good role model.” tucker rolls his eyes as he opens the fridge once more, grabbing some precooked pasta to heat up. 

“did you ever get that math test back? i got an 85. i think that matt guy really likes me or something cause i did so much shit wrong and yet here i am” you shake your head at his question, putting on a tshirt that was thrown over the couch. “no he doesn’t like me much. in fact im probably the last person on his mind 24/7 and when i am on his mind its probably all about how he dislikes me and how bad of a linear algebra student i am.” you shrug, taking a bite of your roommates pasta. “im sure that’s not true.” “oh no. it’s definitely true. there is absolutely no way that I am on his mind right now.” matt got through the stack of papers faster than he had expected. he used your nearly perfect example as an answer key of sorts. he began getting ready for bed, properly this time, knowing that he had an early start to his day with a few morning classes, followed by his nightly internship. he needed to find more time for himself. as he nestles into bed, jellycats at his side, he stares up at the ceiling for a few minutes. his mind keeps drifting back to the camgirl from earlier. cherry. he hopes she’s okay right now. that she’s had a good meal and that she was safe, wherever she was. it was all that was on his mind. the only person on matt’s mind was you. and it had absolutely nothing to do with your mathematical abilities. in fact— he wasn’t even thinking about your test grades anymore. you were absolutely on matt's mind right now, even if neither of you knew it.

tags(reply/message to be added!): @mattsstarlet @oopsiedaisydeer @marrykisskilled @ifwdominicfike @frankoceanfanpage @mattssslutbby @sophand4n4 @matthewsturnsgf @izzylovesmatt @m11rx @chris-hallelujah @sturniolotoast @mattsbrat @wastelandzella @le4hsblog @mattsd0llfac3 @st7rnioioss @isabellewhatt @sturnslutz @freshhhloveee @courta13 @sturns-mermaid @ivysturnss @slutformatt17 @emely9274 @princessesgarden @cykss @throatgoat4u @blahbel668 @ivyyyyyysposts @h0e4fictionalme-n @sofieeeeex @littlebookworm803 @allylovescody @ribread03 @cheesecakedolll @chrislova @ikyoudreamofme @jetaimevous @muwapsturniolo @sturnsrecord @13hoax @whore4mattsturniolo @sophsturns @chrissweetheart @cl1tlover3000 @applecidersturniolo @babytrapsosa @backwardshatnick

dividers by rose @bernardsbendystraws !

[thebestofoneshots]

Gilded Constellations | (wolfstar x reader)

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 6 K Warnings: none. Prompt: Classes have started, how will the new relationship fare with the upcoming normalcy? This IS a Wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it. Not proofread

Chapter 65: Spell Binder

Thursday 13th, 1977

“Please take your seats,” Flitwick said as more and more students started to fill in the room. This time around you sat in your usual place next to Remus. Once most students had taken their spots, he climbed up his small podium and smiled. “Now, we had quite an issue last class, and I completely forgot about your essays. Please leave them on my desk by the end of the class…” 

There was a choir of groans, you turned to Lily with a smile, as you showed her that this time around you had finished the essay and she rolled her eyes as she shook her head and smiled, mouthing something like “cheat” as she looked at you. 

You gave her a pout and mouthed “I saved you ass, you should be thanking me,” back at her. She raised her eyebrows in amusment and you just smiled, covering your face and coughing to mask your barely contained laughter.

“What’s that about?” Remus asked as he leaned closer to you and offered you some water from a metal bottle. 

“Lily hadn’t done her homework, last class,” you explained. “We saved her.” Remus smiled at your words, leaning a little closer to you as he pulled your inkpot to the centre of the table since he’d forgotten his own.

“Professor, I’m afraid I cannot hand in my essay,” said Tom, who was sitting just behind you and Remus. 

“Did you forget it?” 

“No sir, I made it. But the toads ate it as we were leaving the classroom.” 

“The… Toads ate it?”  the professor asked unsure. 

You bit the side of your cheek to avoid laughing and felt Remus nudge you with his elbow and give you a warning look. If you giggled, Flitwick wouldn’t buy it. 

“Mine too,” said Sirius as he sent a quick wink at Tom and pulled out a completely torn piece of paper from under the table. “Couldn’t salvage it at all.” 

“How the fuck…” you mouthed as you looked at his piece of paper. 

“The Toads?” asked Flitwick again. 

“Perhaps it’s the type of Toads?” said Marlene. “They did look quite hungry…” 

That was perhaps the one thing that made actual sense, you thought. If the water spirit had been hungry, and although you’d taken precautions to trap the toads with some food, it made sense that they’d be hungry after being there for so long. 

“Yeah, mine too!” Added someone else from the back. 

“And mine.” 

Flitwick shook his head “All right, all right. Whoever lost their homework due to the toad incident, may bring it to my office tomorrow, you will be graded as if you had handed it in on time. Those who hand it in today will get a bonus point on your overall grade. Sounds fair?” 

“Yes, thank you, professor!” Said Tom with a smile. 

“Thank you,” added Sirius, placing the torn piece of paper back in his bag. 

“Now that that’s out of the picture, let’s talk a little bit of charms. Is there a charm or potion that could have caused the toad incident?” 

“Well, there’s the summoning charm?” Said Michael, the same Hufflepuff whose Fireworm had exploded the day before. 

“Could a summoning charm summon that many toads?” Asked Flitwick.

“Perhaps if they had been clustered together before? With a binding spell of some sort?” proposed Imogen. 

“That could have been it, if the toads had appeared only in one castle and not all over the castle. Unless there was a student summoning toads in each room,” James reasoned.

“Duplication charm?” 

“Or maybe a time-turner?” Said Imogen. 

“Those are way too hard to get,” said Sirius as he shook his head. You threw him a look and he shrugged. Something told you he’d tried. 

“What about a modified Slug-vomiting charm?” Asked Terix –short for Asterix– another Hufflepuff. 

“Did you see anyone vomiting the toads?” asked Michael who was sitting beside him. 

“Well no– but…” 

“I know! Frog-spawn soap!” said Mary.  “Has to be that, right?” 

“But that only works with water,” argued Michael. 

“Well, there was a lot of water,” you said, almost as a throwaway comment. 

“Flooding spell plus frogspawn soap?” Said Remus. “Makes sense.” 

“What about a gemino curse?” asked a Hufflepuff boy whom you’d never heard talk from the back. He was shy and often had either a book or a notebook in his hand. 

“The toads were different,” said Dora (also a Hufflepuff) kindly. “Had it been gemino they would have all been the same.” 

“How do you know they were different?” asked Michael, “They all looked the same to me.” 

“They were definitely different,” insisted the girl. She had bright green hair, which is why some people accused her of being part mermaid. “Some had spots and others didn’t. And they had different hues of green too.” 

“Different hues of green?” Terix inquiered. 

“Plenty of them,” she answered with a nod. 

“Mr. Lupin, what do you think could have happened?” Flitwick asked, cutting the previous line of reasoning. 

“The soap and flooding spell sounds possible,” he said with a shrug. 

“Whatever it might have been,” said James a little loud. “Thank Merlin it happened, we had a fantastic day!” 

“Except for the Fireworms,” said Imogen. 

“Except for the tragic loss of the fireworms,” agreed Prongs solemnly. 

“So that means all we need to do to find the culprit is figure out who bought ridiculous amounts of Frog Spawn Soap at Zonko’s?” you asked with a shrug. It was delightful to have the chance to drive the investigation away from you and the boys and towards a dead end. 

“They could have bought only one and used gemino on it?” said Michael. 

“Would that make everyone who’s bought Frog Spawn Soap a suspect?” Asked Sirius with a devious smile. 

“Not everyone can use gemino, it’s a 7th-year spell!” said Terix. 

“But I’ve seen 4th years do it,” said Remus casually. “Vix knows too,” he added as he pointed at you. 

“Kind of,” you lied. “Still trying to get the hand of it,” you corrected. 

Flitwick smiled at the fact that you’d attempted to learn such a complicated spell. The kind of smile that was both proud but also not too surprised about it, as that was something normal to expect from you –which perhaps it was, at least a little bit. 

“So it narrows it down to everyone who’s able to use gemino and bought Frog Spawn Soap,” said Imgoen, trying to both recap and divert the attention away from you. She had no evidence that you’d been involved in the prank, but she didn’t have any doubts either, it was also the kind of thing you would have done –provided that the boys got you wrapped up in it, and you had been with them most of the Christmas Break. 

“What if they bought the Frog Spawn Soap elsewhere? We were all on the break, could have bought it at any prank shop of the country –heck– they could have even bought it abroad.” 

 “Yeah, there is no way we track down the culprit if they got it abroad, right professor?” asked Mary.

“Unfortunately, if it was frog spawn soap there is no way for us to discover who caused the infestation –If it really was a student that made it happen…” 

“What do you mean by that? You think it might have been Peeves?” asked Dora Johnson. 

“Although that was a theory initially, we’ve talked to Peeves, he maintains it wasn’t him.” 

“And you believe a poltergeist?” asked Tim sceptically. 

“Peeves often takes pride of his pranks, he wouldn’t hide it was him with this one, since it was quite successful,” replied James politely, but also matter-of-factly. Peeves had never taken the credit for any of the marauder’s pranks. 

“Indeed he is, thank you Mr. Potter,” nodded Flitwick. “But that wasn’t exactly what I meant with it having been caused by a student. 

“Then what did you?” 

“I guess this would be more of a History of Magic class, or History of Hogwarts…” He looked up and then around. “Does anybody have that book around at the moment?” 

“Hogwarts: A History?” asked Beth. 

“Precisely.” 

“I think I’ve got it,” Lily said as she dug her hand into her bag and pulled out a considerably thick book. “I’m working on an essay for my optative,” she explained when the entire class looked at her like she was a unicorn. Well, everyone except for James, who was looking at her in his usual manner –heart eyes, almost a little dumbed out, totally oxytocin-filled. 

“No need to explain yourself, Miss Evans,” said Flitwik with a simple nod. She gave him a lopsided smile in return. “Please open page 157.” 

Lily frowned as she looked at him but did as told. Marlene sitting beside her, leaned over Lily’s shoulder too. “Hogwart’s self Mantainance?” 

“Indeed, indeed,” the teacher replied with a nod. “Please the first paragraph Miss. Mackinnon.” 

“Hogwarts is a complex magical structure, and even if Salazar, Godric, Helga and Rowena planned for the house elves to do most of the cleaning, there were still other things that had to be taken care of. After a lot of talking, the four founders ended up designing an incredibly complex system for the self-maintenance for the school. About 4,000 spells were cast all over, some of them imbued with ancient spells we don’t use anymore…” 

“Yes! Yes! That’s right,” Flitwick said as Marlene’s reading slowly died down. “And you see, many of said spells are a complete mystery. Some have recorded them, some are recurring, but others are a total enigma, and happen every hundreds of years. When I was a student, for an entire week the school smelled funny. Some of the portraits explained every two or three hundred years the students complained about that funny smell, like rotten eggs. Upon some research, we discovered it was a rather specific charm to keep undesirable magical creatures at bay. 

“And while the toads have never been recorded, who’s to say it wasn’t some kind of charm? Perhaps a pest control of some kind…” 

“So you think It’s some kind of ancient continence charm?” Asked Tom with a sly smile. 

“Well, it’s a theory, indeed.” 

“If you think about it, it makes sense,” said Dora. “Toads are always eating insects and stuff… which makes them great for controlling small pests. And the toads did look quite hungry.” 

“Precisely Miss. Johnson,” nodded Fltwick as he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. 

“Even when there’s been no record of it happening before?” asked Terix. 

“Well…” said Marlene as she flipped through the pages. “There weren’t any records of the total blackout of the 50s, they only figured out it had been part of the maintenance because somebody found the spell in a book years later.” 

“Does that mean many other weird things like the toads could happen?” Asked Michael. 

“They are quite rare…” you said, as you peeked over to Lily’s table. Remus gave you a look and pulled you back towards your spot when he thought you were going to fall. “Thanks,” you muttered as you turned to him and softly pinched the side of his arm. It was a way to say ‘love you’ when you couldn’t quite squeeze his hand or press a kiss to his cheek. 

“Indeed, you should consider yourselves lucky that you witnessed such a historic event,” the professor said solemnly. 

“Right we are!” said James. “History! We witnessed History!” 

It’s not that James was saying it in an ironic manner or anything similar, if anything he seemed just as excited as Flitwick. But it was because you knew his roll in the prank that his words seemed so hilarious. Rather than laughing, though, you coughed a couple of times and then drank a little bit of water to calm your nerves. 

“Way to be discrete about it Vixen,” said Prongs as the three of you walked towards your next class. 

“You weren’t much better,” you said with a laugh. “We should be thankful, we’ve witnessed history,” you added in a high-pitched tone while waving your hands in the air dramatically. 

“I don’t sound like that at all!” he complained. 

“You kind of do!” you teased, and he threw a few peanuts he was munching on towards you.

“James, don’t be so wasteful, please,” Lily chided, she had just caught up with all of you. 

“Right, sorry, Luv,” he said as he turned to look at her, and took from her shoulders to carry it himself. 

You and Remus exchanged a diverted glance, and then Lily turned to you with a small smirk and a wink. You raised your eyebrows as you looked at her –she had a very smug expression going on at this point and you lagged behind just enough to blow her a kiss without James noticing (then he would have known she didn’t really mean it about being wasteful, but rather was defending you). 

“Oi! Hands off my peanuts, Padfoot!” he said as he snapped the other boy’s hand. 

“Our Peanuts, Prongs,” said Sirius with a casual shrug as he plopped one of them into his mouth. “This is a communist society.” 

“Communist my ass, I had to bribe the house elves for this ones!” 

“You what?” Lily asked as he turned to him in shock. 

“By ‘bribe’, he just means he goes down to the kitchen and asks them nicely,” Peter explained. 

“Well yeah, but they didn’t want to give them up because they needed them for some the Chicken Stay.” 

“Satay,” corrected Sirius. 

“What?” 

“It’s Chicken Satay, not Chicken Stay.” 

“Wait, really?” James asked as he turned to him, clearly confused. Sirius took that as an opportunity to take a few more peanuts. He moved the handful behind your back, which Remus took after a graceful movement that you hadn’t had the luck to witness. 

“Yeah,” you said, to keep his eyes away from the bag. Lily rolled her eyes at the entire interaction, but she had a happy smile on her face as she watched how well the three of you worked together, like the finest wristwatch, each gear working in tandem to tell the right time. “You didn’t know?” 

“I thought it was stay!” 

“Either way, how are they gonna make the food withotut the peanuts?” 

“They were just for the sauce, I told them they could try and make a different sauce, to get creative.” 

“Merlin, we’ll have mystery sauce,” said Lily. 

“Just avoid the sauce,” James said with a shrug. “Besides, the peanuts are a great surce of protein, perfect for all of us Quidditch players prepparing for the last match.” 

“And yet you’re gatekeeping them,” you said. 

“Ugh, just have some,” he siad as he handed the bag over to you and you placed a couple in your hand, Remus was already munching on some of the ones Sirius had sneaked for him and you took one and plopped it in your mouth before feeding Sirius a couple of them. 

“Did you guys finish your homework?” asked Mary, she had ran inbetween James and Lily and stood right infront of everyone with a preoccupied face. 

“What homework?” asked Sirius with a frown. 

“Potions? Essay about common household ones? it was for the break.” 

You turned to Remus with a worried expression, but he gave you a calm nod in return. “We’ve got it, don’t worry, Luv.” 

You were tempted to lean in and press a kiss on his beautiful lips, but there were too many people in the corridors not to mention the fact that neither Mary nor Peter knew about the new relationship status, and although the three of you agreed you’d slowly tell your friends –and you were meant to tell the girls while they the boys, neither of you had set a due date, rather you decided to do it when you thought was best.

“Shit,” Sirius said as he remembered both that he hadn’t done it, and that Severus was now his partner in potions. “You think he did it?” 

“Severus?” you asked. “There is no way in hell he puts your name on it. Especially not after the new nickname you gave him.” 

“He does not know I was the one that started it…” 

“He blames us for everything bad that happens to him anyway,” James said as Sirius turned to him.

“Well, at least I won’t be the only one that didn’t do it.” 

“Who are you looking at, I did it!” 

“You what?” Sirius asked, dumbfounded. 

“Actually, the only reason I remembered to do it is thanks to Vix” 

“Whatever do I have to do with your essay? Didn’t even remember to do mine.” 

“You recall that day you were playing Romeo and Juliet on the balcony and then fell?” 

“You fell off James’ balcony?!” intervened Lily, pitch slightly higher, concerned evident in her tone.

“James made it sound a lot worse than it actually was,” you reassured. “2 and a half metres at most… Maybe three.” 

Lily looked at you just as horrified as she had been looking at you before. “Some bushed caught her, she was totally fine,” James added. “Either way, a fall is a fall, so we went digging in my father’s cabinet for some anti-swelling potion.” 

“By Merlin, what we found there.” 

“What you found there? What did you find there?” asked Sirius, turning towards you.

You and James exchanged a look and then laughed. “Bit of everything.” 

“Anyway, we left the one we used outside and when Dad asked me to put it back, I remembered and wrote a quick one.” 

“And what potion did you talk about?” 

“Sleekeazy, I asked Dad if he still had his notes from when he created it, we’re definitely going to get an ‘O’.” 

Lily gave him a thumbs-up and a small smile. James had been working a lot harder on potions since he was with her and they’d turned into an incredibly good team. The fact that they’d started dating just made it better, since Lily was less impassive and a lot more tolerant towards him now.

“So I’m the only one without an essay?” 

“Nah, Mars and I did nothing either,” Mary said with a pout. “Is anyone willing to lend me their essay?” 

“I have some notes on Draught of Living Death,” you said as you pulled out your notebook, but Sirius was quicker to snatch it away from your hands than Mary.

“Sorry, darling,” he told her with a smile. “I’ve got boyfriend privileges.” 

Her pout just grew and Lily took out her notebook, “You can take my notes on Veritasserum,” she said with a small shrug, Mary’ pout instantly turned into a smile. “I’ve got the best friends in the entire world,” she said as she pulled both you and Lily towards her and placed her arms arounf your shoulders. “And not just because you help me when I forget my homework, you know that, right?” 

Lily laughed and you smiled, leaning your head against her shoulder and feeling some of her thick curls brush against your cheek, content to have such delightful friends, and thinking how exactly you would tell them about you and the boys and the relationship you’d ended up in. 

Slughorn was already inside the classroom by the time you reached the door, he was leaning in his desk with a small smile and and that air of grandiosity he always carried himself with. New year, new potion, and by the looks of it, it wasn’t going to be an easy one at all. He looked all too thrilled about giving the class for it to be an easy one, but you didn’t hate the idea of a complicated potion. In fact, you yearned for the normalcy of your problems being related to school and not the end of the world and a fascist takeover of power.

A few ingredients were already settled on the tables as everyone walked over to their place.  Some looked at the assortment with curiosity, while others just pushed them towards the end of the table almost carelessly, to make some space for their parchments and notebooks. Remus eyed you once he spotted the large jar filled with rose petals, wondering if you liked recieving flowers, he’d never asked. 

He didn’t much like giving flowers, there was something inherently sad about giving someone something on the verge of dying that displeased him. Even when charmed, and frozen in time, cut flowers were still cut, and once cut, they couldn’t survive, not in a way that mattered at least. Magic could make them last forever, but they still would be forever at the edge of dying. He much preferred giving living flowers. Hope always had flower pots and her orchard had always been filled with flowers –taken care of by spells from Lyall since she wasn’t all that great at keeping them alive either. But he had always seen them in bloom, from rose bushes to hydrangeas and even lily bells. 

He used to love, before going to Hogwarts and while he was educated by his parents, to see them sprout as the snow started to dissolve into water poodles, the almost magic-like qualities of the change of seasons and the resilient little buds that refused to give up on life even in such withering conditions. He used to think he was like those little plants, no matter how cold winter got, he kept fighting his way up the thick snow, perhaps eventually it would melt. 

And when he turned back to look at you, writing something in your notebook and then turning to him after noticing he was staring, smiling and sending him a small wink, he realised that the snow had indeed melted. You and Sirius were bright enough to melt it, and he would push through, and give his best, as long as he could bathe on your shine once he beat whatever layer of snow the world might bring him. 

“What’s got you so lost in thought?” you asked as you leaned closer to him. 

“Just thinking of my partners,” he said as he turned to you with a sneaky smile. 

“So you are?” you smiled just as teasingly, perhaps a good smile wouldn’t let him see how embarrassed you actually were. “Care to share with the class?” 

“It wouldn’t be proper,” he lied. 

“All the more fun then, isn’t it?” 

“How can such a dirty mind fit in such a small head?” he teased as he placed his hand on your head and shook you lightly, you laughed merrily at his action, and leaned back towards him. Sirius was way too focused on creating an essay to notice how adorable his lovers looked, which perhaps wasn’t all that bad, since he would have wanted to abandon what he was doing entirely just to join you.

More and more students walked inside the classroom when the bell rang and Slughorn stood from his seat, waving his hand at the door and having it close just seconds later, which had some students jump startled in their seats. 

“From the ingredients in the table, can anybody guess what potion we’re making today?” 

“Calming draught?” asked a student.

“That does not have Niffler’s Fancy,” said Severus with an eye roll. “Is it a beautification potion?” he asked. 

“Why, need one of those?” Sirius mumbled and got a death stare from the greasy-haired boy. 

Remus sighed, he knew teasing Severus was a bad idea, especially after what he’d seen in the bathroom. The small snicker you were trying to hold almost instantly made him forget. It had been quite a hilarious tease anyway. 

You looked at the assortment of ingredients: rose petals, niffler’s fancy, moonstone, pearl dust, mint, aswinder eggs (perhaps the most telling of them all), vanilla pod, and a few other things where the label was too small or non-existent.

“Is it Healing Tonic?” asked James, who remembered seeing some of those ingredients in his father’s medical journal. 

The ingredients themselves could have prepared anything, even the ashwinder eggs, but there had been something unusual at the beginning of the class that gave you an idea of what the potion could have been “It’s amortentia, isn’t it, Professor? That’s why you shut the door,” you said.

Slughorn’s smile widened as he looked at you. “Brilliantly said, darling,” he said.  You’d only ever heard him call Lily with that nickname, until then you had only been “Miss” and your last name. You almost appreciated not being reminded of Silas in that sense. “Indeed, indeed, we’ll be brewing amorentia.” 

“Aren’t we supposed to be able to do those only after the N.E.W.T.S?” Said Mulciber from the back. 

“That’s right, Mr. Dolohov, in fact only some students in 7th actually get to brew the potion effectively. Regardless, the potion contains a lot of complicated techniques that you’ll find useful on other brews, and since this class already has a handful of talented potioneers–” he looked around, his eyes stopping in your table, Lily, Severus and Evan’s– “I decided we would make the first attempt on this class. If a team does succeed, you’ll be getting a price in return.” 

“A price?” Asked Sirius curiously. 

“A potion from my personal stash, whichever you want, no questions asked,” Slughorn added as he pulled a small wooden box and opened it, inside of it there were about 50 different vials, small and with various shapes and sizes, from round and transparent, swirled and completely black. All of them had a small label hanging from them with neatly written cursive, Slughorn’s handwriting. 

“Any of them? Whichever we choose?” Asked Evan apprehensively. 

“Yes, indeed,” Slughorn nodded, and with a wave of his hand, the box closed itself shut. He pulled out his wand and a set of books rose from the back bookshelf and slowly flew towards everyone’s desk. “Page 567, Mr. Black, please.” 

Sirius cleared his throat and pulled the book towards him as he quickly flipped through the pages, “Amortentia, also known as The Most Powerful Love Potion in existence, is also an extremely dangerous brew that can have catastrophic results if handled incorrectly,” he started. Slughorn seemed quite pleased, and after Sirius turned his eyes up to make sure he was expected to continue, he did. “Do not be fooled by its name, although the effects of Amortentia are extremely powerful, it is impossible for it, or any other potion to manufacture true love. Its true effect is akin to obsessive infatuation.” 

“Indeed, but as you know, even if it is not true love, excessive infatuation can be extremely dangerous. Any real-life examples?” Lily raised her hand. “Miss Evans, please.” 

“When Henry VIII of England was king, he fell madly in love with Anne Boleyn. Plenty of scholars said they often saw her pouring drinks for him at parties and gatherings, and that little after he was head over hills for her. She managed to secure her marriage with Henry and England went through the break with the church. Anne never quite managed to give him a male heir and she fell out of favour.

“I read somewhere that before that happened, some of his advisors realised she was pouring stuff in his drinks and she was forbidden from serving the king, And only after that she fell out of his favour, then the Witchcraft rumours started. I checked on some old Hogwarts records because I was curious. Anne studied here before joining the king’s court, back in the fifteen hundreds, she was a Slytherin and a promising potioneer, although she was never quite good at charms. This was back when Hogwarts didn’t have such a complete curriculum, and students were only expected to master one or two crafts instead of all of them.”  You’d swear there was a shine in Slughorn’s eyes as he heard Lily speak. “The records of her being a witch were erased from most of their history, but the rumours persisted, and perhaps they would have stayed as that if Hogwarts didn’t have such a complete library.” 

“An excellent example, Miss Evans. It illustrates the dangers of obsessive infatuation.”

“What? Destroying a marriage?” Someone joked from behind. 

“Being murdered for it,” retorted Mulciber. 

“She was only murdered because she got discovered.” 

“That’s such a Slytherin comment,” Mary said to Marlene under her breath, unfortunately, the Slytherin who spoke first heard it.

“What did you say?” he asked as he stood up, his chair grinding against the stone loudly. 

“Enough!” Slughorn said. “20 points from Slytherin thanks to Mr. Parkinson,” he added sternly. “10 for Gryffindor, thanks to Miss Evans’s brilliant remark.” 

There was a choir of cheers and moans, and Mulciber kicked Preston Parkinson under the table, who complained about it with a moan and a look of hate. Lily stood straighter, proud of having gotten some more points for her house, and James was staring at her as if she were the brightest star in the galaxy. 

“Now, allow us to continue. Can somebody tell me what the most important ingredient in amorentia is?” 

“Pearl dust?” someone asked, Slughorn shook his head. 

“Ashwinder eggs?” Marlene asked, generally the most important ingredient of the potion was the first listed, so she went for it. 

“It’s extremely important, but no.” He looked at you. “Any ideas?” 

You looked at him, going through the list of instructions one by one, and then you remembered. “The item belonging to whom which the drinker will fall in love with,” you said. “Without it, it’s a completely useless brew that smells nice, with it, it becomes a weapon. Like Polyjuice.” 

“Yes! And…?” He pressed.

You bit your lip, you weren’t sure what else there was, you turned to Remus for help, and nodded calmly before looking at Slughorn, “It’s the intention, isn’t it, Professor?” 

Slughorn seemed quite pleased with the answer. “Indeed, the intention and the item are the most important. You may brew a perfect potion, but without the intention, even the best brew will be nothing more than an ingredient soup.” 

“What does that mean?” Asked Archie McMillan, a Slytherin that wasn’t all that disagreeable.

“Some potions require you to have clear intentions as you brew them. Much like the unforgivable curses, if you do not mean to use them accordingly, then they won’t work.” 

“But…” started Beth. “Wouldn’t us wanting to make such a potion put us in a bad position?” 

“Brilliant question, Miss Harmon. But want and intent are not the same. You may not want to harm someone and still intend to do it. For example, when you’re in an argument, you may purposefully say things to hurt the other person. Intentions are short-lived, temporary, wants, on the contrary, may last much longer.” 

“But does that mean we must have the intention to use it while we brew it?” Asked Mary. 

“Indeed,” he said as he nodded. “You must have the intention to use it, even if you do not want to do it.” 

“That sounds complicated,” Marlene said as she shook her head.

“And that’s why it is one of the trickiest potions to brew,” Slughorn confirmed. “Advance potions tend to have this quality, intentions matter, and that is also why they are so complicated to craft. A good flask of amorentia, one that will last for years, can cost up to a thousand galleons, and can only be found on the black market. The longer it lasts, the more expensive it will be. Does anyone know how to guess the potency of amorentia?” 

“The stronger it’s smell, the more potent,” retorted Severus. 

“Indeed, Mr. Snape, indeed.” 

“So the potion that’ll get the price will be the one that smells the strongest?” Asked Alison Prewett.

“Precisely,” he said solemnly. 

“But how do we intend without wanting?” Asked Tom. 

“Quite simple,” said Slughorn. “Think of the person you’d like to use the potion on, while you brew, cut and stir.” 

“But what if I don’t want to use it on anyone?” Asked Peter. 

“Think about it,” Slughorn said. “Is there really no person you’d like to use a potion like that on? Nobody you fancy but know is completely out of your reach? Perhaps a celebrity? A book character? A Quidditch player?” 

Peter adverted his gaze and looked at the table, taking a deep breath which made you look at him with some concern. “You think he’s all right?” you asked as you leaned towards Remus. 

“Wormmy?” He asked. “Why wouldn’t he be?” 

You shrugged, “Something in his gaze, I guess… Might be overthinking it.” 

Remus leaned his head and turned to Peter, but by then he had already gathered himself up again and was clumsily writing what Slughorn was saying on his parchment. Very characteristic of him, “He looks all right to me.” 

“Yeah, I suppose he does,” you said as you looked at him again, Remus words reassuring enough for the thought to slip your mind as Slughorn kept going on about all the ingredients you would need.

“All the ingredients are on the table, you may start. Remeber, maintain your intention, the stronger it is, the better the potion will come out.” 

“This would have been a lot easier last semester,” Remus said as you weighed some of the ingredients.

“You think?” you asked as you moved the weights on the scale, making sure it was the right amount.

“I would have had just the right intentions.” 

You turned to him with a smile, “Yeah?” you teased. “Would have thought of using it on us?” 

He shrugged, “I was always thinking of you, it would have been easy enough to keep the intention.” 

“You could still think of us, it’s what I’m planning to do,” you said with a shrug. 

“Yeah? You’ll think of me? But you already know you have me.” 

You hummed in response. “Still, imagine what a little bit of amortentia could do to calm old Remus,” you added with a smirk.

He gasped, “Calm, old?”

“Well, if the shoe fits–”

“You haven’t seen a thing. We’ve been dating for like, what? A day and a half?” he whispered. 

“See? You’re exactly the type that would keep count,” you said, just to tease him, and the brush on his tongue on the inside of his cheek made a small bump as he shook his head.

“You think it’s funny.” 

“I think it’s adorable,” you retorted, equally teasing smile. “I think you are adorable.” 

“Now you’re just trying to make me blush.” 

“Perhaps If I keep that as my intention then we’ll get the potion to be fantastic,” you retorted.

“You think I’d blush more under amortentia.” 

“You don’t? Picture this. Your room, me and Sirius. The boys aren’t around, and there definitely won’t be any James barging in at the wrong time. We’re listening to some nice, soft jazz in the record player, maybe some of the ones I got you on Christmas, maybe some from your collection and–” 

“Is everything all right with you two?” Asked Slughorn as he approached.

“Delightful,” you said, turning to him with a smile. Remus could tell you were blushing by the way your smile tightened as you looked up, he leaned his head on his hand looked at you with a very self-assured look, and raised an eyebrow, which you saw out of the corner of your eye. He was teasing you now, in retaliation for your earlier insinuations. “We were just discussing our intentions.” 

Slughorn gave you a pleased look, “Such a brilliant team the two of you make,” he said with a nod. “Nothing better than two friends being potion partners,” he added. “Well, perhaps two lovers…” 

“Like Effie and Monty, right?” 

“Yes, the Potters were some of the few students I’ve had that completed this potion perfectly. They weren’t dating then, I believe they thought of each other. It made it all the more powerful in the end.” 

“Well, I certainly know who my partner will be thinking of,” Sirius said maliciously towards Severus, once he overheard the conversation you were having with Slughorn. 

“Yeah, well I know exactly who you’ll be thinking of as well,” the other boy retorted viciously. “And it won’t be your stupid little girlfriend, will it?”

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

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A/N: Since we're getting close to the end, I'm planning to do a reread (10-15 chaps left) + heavy revision once we're done (still a few months from there but it's probably going to be done sometime this year) because I want to make my own printed version of it (probably on Lulu), and perhaps a cute epub file? It will probably contain pictures, fan art, and other bonus material. Either way, if you want to collaborate, either in the revision or in bonus content, please don't hesitate to hit me up.

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[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 65

part 1 | part 64 | ao3

cw: angst, weed

Eddie reaches out then stops, hand hovering just above Steve’s knee, something like panic in the tremor of his wrist. “Steve, for real, man, please let me—”

“No, you for real, man.” Seriously? Man? As if there aren't so many more important things to discuss right now. Steve squeezes his eyes shut and pinches his nose, the voice of an old swim coach ringing in his ear. Game time, Harrington, c’mon, where’s your head?

“Look,” Steve sighs, fingers clenching around his shin. “We can talk about... this," he gestures between the two of them, "later. Let’s just— Important stuff only for right now, okay?” 

Eddie’s breath shakes when he answers. “Yeah.”

“Okay.”

“Cool.”

“Good.” 

This is somehow worse than silence.

Steve shakes his head, tries to focus through the fog of awkward energy. Important things. Important.

Like, how about ‘what were you doing with a pretty girl in my fucking trailer?’ for starters, or maybe—

Oh, fuck. 

Steve looks sharply at Eddie. “Why were you asking if I was real?”

Eddie stares back in silence, eyes huge, bottom lip trembling as Steve presses into his space; drops his voice, brings a hand up to wrap around Eddie’s arm — just above his elbow, soft leather and warm muscle shivering under the touch. God. Please. Not him, too. “Eddie. Did you— did you see something? Are you…?”

“No,” Eddie shudders. “No, sorry, just, uh—” He shakes his head with a grimace, a shrill sound spilling out, some frantic braying thing that might have counted as a laugh if his face wasn’t doing that. “Pretty goddamn sure I’m just losing my mind after seeing the— the fucking—”

His palm floats up to the ceiling in a wobbly zig-zag, looseleaf drifting to the classroom carpet in reverse, then he clenches his fist and lets it explode open with a ‘boom,’ the sound effect ruined by another strangled laugh. “Oh, my god,” he giggles. Humorless, horrified, nervous system overwhelm. His entire arm is shaking. “Oh, shit, oh, Jesus Christ, Steve, Chrissy’s—”

“Hey.” Steve tightens his grip on Eddie’s arm; waits for Eddie to take a breath, gasping and wet. “We can’t think about it, alright?”

Eddie’s voice cracks miserably. “That’s not fucking fair to her.”

“I know.” Steve loosens his hold; smooths his palm over the leather sleeve; wonders who he’s really trying to soothe. “I know. But we can’t— if what you and Dustin said is true, if it’s really some— some monster that hurt Chrissy, that’s trying to hurt us? We can’t grieve yet, okay? We can’t give him an opening to attack. We need a game plan.”      

Eddie exhales like he’s trying to mimic an owl. “Okay,” he nods eventually, slapping his thighs as he stands up. “Okay. Game plan. Yeah. Shit. Games and sports and plans and…” 

He trails off, mouth moving around mumbled gibberish as he wiggles his fingers and drums on himself, hands slipping up his torso, tongue over his top lip. He pats his front pocket. “Oh, hell yeah, baby.” Whirling to face Steve, he slips his forefinger and thumb into the narrow pouch and pulls out the Altoids tin where he keeps his pre-roll stash. “How’s this for a game plan?”

—

part 66

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[revelboo]

Everything is alright- expanded cut

Starscream x reader

One more mile to get it together. Except, you’ve been telling yourself that for how many miles now? It’s been halfheartedly misting rain for the last several minutes, but you don’t bother to roll the windows up on your old sedan. Not when you desperately need the chilly feel of the wind sinking icy fingers into your hair and tearing at your ponytail to help numb the anger and stress just there under the surface.

But even with the speedometer pushing 65 on the wooded country road, there’s no outrunning yourself. Or stopping your mind from sifting through the fallout from your latest boyfriend. Letting the intrusive thoughts in. Like maybe he’d been right, and you hadn’t really made enough time for him. Even if you both worked crappy, full-time jobs that consumed more than their fair share of your time and energy.

If anything, it was as much his fault as yours, right? Hands going white knuckled on the wheel, you crank the rock and roll even higher to let the thump of the bass roll through your bones and send your thoughts flying. You’re out past the county line now, the road just an inky ribbon of asphalt snaking through the woods. Occasionally, the setting sun dazzles you through the gaps in the trees in piercing, painful flares of red and gold.

From the depths of your mind comes the thought that you could just keep driving. See where the road went until it ended somewhere on the coast. It was a lovely dream, but just that. You weren’t brave enough to just go. That’s why you still lived in the nowhere town you’d grown up in. Your foot settles a little more firmly on the gas pedal, slaloming around lazy curves as you try to shake off the mellow ache, because now you’re angry with him and yourself.

You could do it. Flip the proverbial bird to everything you know, especially your awful boss, and just nope off into the sunset without a plan. Probably end up living in the car if it didn’t break down before you even managed to cross the state line. It was funny in a decidedly unfunny way, because your own worst enemy? You. It’s always you.

Snorting at yourself, it takes a minute to register the new sound over the wail of an electric guitar pouring tinnily through your speakers. What is that? The fine hair at your nape prickles as it rolls over you, a thunderous scream that locks the breath in your lungs. Eyes darting up to your mirror there’s a moment of blank disbelief, because no. That’s not a jet right behind you, flying lower than a jet has any reason to as its huge wingspan sheers off branches in its wake.

There’s no time to argue with the impossible vision because the belly of the jet slams and scrapes along the roof of your car with an awful shriek, and panic lights you up. You haul at the wheel, foot slamming down on the brake and then you’re sliding on the wet road. Things get a bit funny after that. Trees right there and the noise of the impact. Your forehead bouncing off the wheel and then slamming back as the airbag deploys with enough force you’re stunned again.

Your world blurs into a confusing smear of impossibility when you lift your head and feel your heartbeat throbbing at your temple. For a moment, you can’t figure out the seatbelt, everything hurts, and your mouth tastes like old pennies.

In the distance, a rumble of thunder rolls as the buckle finally unclips. The door is partially dented in by the impact, so you crawl out the window, head pounding to match the thunder. But thunder doesn’t sound like that. This is a staccato thumping that makes no sense. Guns? Probably that jet exploding. Your awkward slide out of the car via the window isn’t dignified or graceful. Twisting to land on your hip instead of your face, you lift your head. Everything’s muddled and you definitely have a concussion. That’s the only way to explain whatever the hell it is you’re looking at. There are giant robots in the road and one of them has wings painted like the stupid, low flying jet that had tried to kill you. And they have guns. You don’t even know what to make of this particular hallucination playing out in front of you. Staggering up out of the ditch and onto the road, it feels like you’re on a ship, the ground pitching and rolling under your feet as your stare up at the nonsense. You definitely brained yourself good. Most likely, you’re still in the car bleeding out and this was your mind’s idea of a consolation prize. Except you’d never actually liked sci-fi or robots.

Turning unsteadily as your whole body screams in pain, you stare from the jet and its fiery red eyes to the other two imaginary head trauma robots. One’s yellow and the other is white with red and blue accents. And they’re not shooting the jet anymore. They’re just staring down at you in the same kind of dumb stupor that's weighing you down. Your legs get a bit cute on you and your knee thumps onto the road. Feeling the grit and loose gravel digging into you cuts through the hazy fog of pain and disbelief.

Because it’s real. And then the panic rears its head, screaming at you to run even as you freeze. You’d always kind of assumed you’d do well under pressure. That you’d at least do something. Kneeling there as the misty rain slowly chills your skin, you don’t move. You can’t. Not even when you see the jet lunge right at you.

****

It's almost serendipity when the human staggers up into the road between him and the two Autobots. Gaping up at them with no sense of self-preservation or fear. Staring at him in the optics like he was no threat to it. Brave, but so stupid.

Because his options are limited even though he’s not exactly outgunned. No doubt the Autobots have called in for backup. Even bleeding energon and one wing hanging on by sheer spite and a prayer, he could handle two of them. Several, though?

And calling in his own backup? Having to beg for help even from his own trine? Weak. He’d never live it down. Or survive it. Weakness didn’t last long among the Decepticon ranks.

Feeling the wound in his side pulling as he lunges, he’s only barely aware of Jazz’s cry. The human is softer than he expects, that soft flesh giving horribly against his servos as he catches it and lifts it out in front of him like the most ineffective shield ever. Aside from a wheezing sound halfway between a gasp and a moan, the human just hangs there in his grip, unresisting. Maybe broken.

All that matters is that Jazz and Bumblebee have frozen. Maybe it isn’t so ineffective. Because the Autobots are forbidden from harming organics. Especially humans. Baring his denta in a feral smile, he backs away from the two.

“Let the human go, Starscream,” Bumblebee says, voice as steady as the weapon still raised toward him in threat.

An empty threat. A laugh escapes him, his smile turning nasty. “No, I don’t think so.”

Whatever is inside humans is hot, sticky, and leaking unpleasantly against his servos. The sensation is almost enough to make him chuck the thing at the two idiots to buy himself some time. Small hands push at his servos as the thing in his grip shudders. It’s silent, though as it looks up at him with big, terrified eyes.

Spark thrumming, he keeps moving back. They were really going to let him go just because he’d nabbed a human with no survival instincts whatsoever. Who still was eerily quiet as they sluggishly leaked red fluid from a gash on their head. Turning on his heel, he pulls it into his chassis as he transforms, pain rippling through him. There’s a terrifying moment of very real fear that his wing won’t hold. That he and his hostage will crash back down, but his turbines roar and he’s gone.

It's no longer silent, he can hear its rasping gasps. Maybe transforming around it had finally broke through its shock. Something definitely had. He could feel its little hands scrabbling at his interior in a panic, the sensation causing his metal flesh to crawl all over. It was inside him. Touching everything. Leaking that sticky red stuff inside him. The only consolation at all was that it wasn’t screaming.

Yet.

“Keep your filthy little hands to yourself,” he snarls as it paws at the seam of his cockpit as if it wants to be jettisoned. Was nearly begging for it. As tempting as that thought was, the docile, little thing had potential. Namely as a way to keep the Autobots from firing at him.

Snatching its hands back, its wide eyes dart around his interior. So, it isn’t quite as addled as he’d thought. Surprising. “It’s talking. The giant, metal death robot is talking,” it mutters, voice soft and raspy with pain as it tucks its hands against its chest.

“Starscream.” The annoyance is immediate and the human flinches at his tone, hunching its shoulders. It doesn’t respond, though. Just makes that weird, gasping sound as it looks around for an escape.

Aside from a low, moaning when he transforms around them a second time, it’s silent as he keeps it trapped inside his canopy. One of its soft hands slaps against the glass to make him shudder, its breathing becoming louder and more frantic. There’s the fear he’d expected. By some miracle, he makes it inside the base and to his quarters without getting stopped. Though, Skywarp gave him a look as he limped past. A low growl and a flash of denta had been enough to discourage his trine brother from needling him for the moment.

Closing the door behind himself, the pain of his ruined wing crests and threatens to wash over him. Servos gingerly touching his side and wincing when they come away wet with energon, he picks up an empty energon cube and pops his canopy. With a startled cry, the human falls out into his palm, and he drops them into the cube. The walls are high enough that he doubts they can manage to get free. Placing it on a shelf, his optics narrow as it scrambles to the far side of its prison, eyes wide.

Huffing out a low vent, he turns and leaves the human to go find the medic.

****

You slide slowly down the smooth glass wall to land on your butt as your legs just give up. The apparently not hallucinatory, brain trauma induced, giant robot stuck you in a big, square aquarium and even though the top is open, you can’t get enough air. Or stop shaking as panic sank its teeth into your throat.

Reaching up, you gingerly touch your temple. There’s blood there, but sticky and not actively bleeding you think. And even if you’re not imagining all this, you probably, definitely, do have a concussion. You can’t motivate your shaking, noodle legs to stand, so you crane your neck to study your prison. The walls are much higher than you are tall and featureless. No way to get a good grip to climb out, even as you very briefly entertain and dismiss the idea of parkouring up the corner of the box to freedom, because that isn’t happening, and you know it.

Which leaves you all alone to wander the shores of melancholy regret in the silence of the empty room. There’ll be no seeing where any other roads go now. No second chances. You tunnel your fingers through your hair, pulling on it as you try to gather yourself. To think it out. Feeling miserable, you look around the big room. It's giant robot sized and surprisingly spartan. There’s a flat metal berth along one wall, a desk and chair, what might be storage drawers, but blessedly little else. No mementos of a life lived. No trinkets. Something about that bothers you, but you don’t dwell on it.

You’re not sure how long your big, evil robot, Starscream, is gone. Hours? You’re almost drowsing in your corner even as you shiver uncontrollably in the icy room. Apparently cold didn’t bother giant robots, but then, it’d been very warm when you’d been trapped inside its interior. Any other time you’d have been ecstatic about riding in a jet. Fear for your life had soured the experience.

You bang your head on the glass wall of your cage when the door opens, and your kidnapper returns. Those glowing red eyes slide your way before dismissing you. Shifting to drag your legs against yourself, you watch it move to an oversized chair and slump. Teeth chattering, a new concern surfaces. This thing knew you needed food and water, right?

“Almost brought down by two weak Autobots,” it mutters, dragging a hand down its face in a disturbingly human gesture. For an alien robot murder machine, its face is uncannily human. It reaches back to prod at one of its wings. It looked better than it had, you realize. “Nearly ripped my wing off.”

Was it talking to you? Unsure, you dart your tongue out to wet your lips. Somehow you hadn’t yet won yourself a Darwin Award even though you’d blundered into the middle of a fire fight between huge, angry robots while gawping like a hick tourist. Did you dare push your luck? “How dare they,” you say, voice a barely-there, raspy whisper.

It hears you, though. That big head turns to stare at you, and you wilt as its wings flit up a little higher and the silence stretches.

“Right?” Starscream demands suddenly, growling voice full of irritation. It sounds like a he, you decide. Though since it was whatever the hell it was, who knew. “I could have destroyed them then and there with one servo.”

It’s almost funny as the alien death machine actually puffs out his chest a bit when you nod in agreement, teeth chattering. And then you run with it, playing devil’s advocate, because staying on his good side? Definitely a good idea. “They wouldn’t stand a chance.”

“Of course not,” he sneers, rising to tip his head at you with almost predatory interest. Drifting away to a wall, he retrieves a huge blanket and drops it unceremoniously on you. The material is soft as silk, but some chemical smell clings faintly to it. You still cocoon yourself in it, face poking out to watch your evil robot return to his chair and his sprawl. And falls silent, staring at you in return.

The shivers slowly ease, but don’t go away altogether. That doesn’t stop you from drifting off, though. Your sleep is thankfully a dreamless void that sinks its claws in and drags you under. It’s almost pleasant up until something bounces off your head and the pain you’d left behind in sleep screams through you. Along with the realization that you’re being buried alive. Clawing your way free, you fall on your face, swearing.

And look up to find Starscream staring down at you, his lips twitching in cruel amusement at your expense. Your heart runs wild, rabbit-fast in fear. His red eyes shift behind you then back. Wary, you turn to look and find he’d buried you in a mountain of beef jerky, chips, soda, and- its food. He’s brought you food. That has to be a good sign, right? Why bother to feed you if he’s just going to squish you.

Sure, he could have not dropped it all on your head, but you aren’t about to tell him that. Just like you aren’t going to think too deeply about where the food came from either. It’s not like he can just waltz into a store and buy stuff. You’re snapped out of thoughts of sirens and explosions when you realize those fearsome eyes are scrutinizing you. Waiting for your reaction?

“Thank you?” Your voice is soft and uncertain, but the big, scary robot freezes all the same. Those wings on his back flip up then back down. Like he’s surprised that you’d thanked him. Just like the complete 360 he’d pulled when you’d agreed with him before. Like your captor isn’t too used to being listened to or appreciated. And he not only loves the attention, he might just crave it. Fawning over him is a small price to pay for your life. And that smug, preening smirk paired with those little wing flutters? For a kidnapping, killer robot, he’s kind of adorable. Not that you’re ever going to admit that out loud. You like living too much for that.

You freeze when he reaches into your cage before scooting back from that massive hand. Unwilling to give up your warm blanket, you drag it with you and suck in a sharp breath when he cages you in his hand and lifts you out. His grip isn’t as rib crushing as the last time he’d snatched you up and you cling to his fingers, heart racing as he places you on the desk.

****

Scrolling through reports, Starscream keeps an optic on his new- what, pet? Yes. A pet. Letting out a long-drawn vent, he works and tracks the human as it stands up still wrapped in the cleaning cloth he’d given it and dragging it along as they cautiously move around his desk. It only takes a low growl under his breath to discourage the human from getting near the edge. Those big eyes dart up to him in surprise before moving away from the drop.

Satisfied that it��s not going to launch itself to a stupid death, he resumes perusing reports. “Can you believe those idiots?” He grumbles to himself out of habit. “I told them that mine was unstable.”

He hears the human’s quiet steps as it moves closer to him, little face tipped up toward him. “They should have listened to you,” it says, the words surprising him.

Because they were true. Were humans usually this astute or had he just picked a particularly smart one? His wings adjust slightly as he turns his attention to the tiny creature. “They never listen to me.” Reaching out he ghosts the tip of a servo over their head, surprised by how soft their hair is. It goes still under his touch, head lowering as he slides that finger down its back.

He'd had a petro rabbit once, the tiny, fragile thing so trusting. It would eat from his hand and come willingly to him. Petro rabbits weren’t exactly clever, though. Couldn’t distinguish him from Skywarp. And even though Skywarp had claimed it had been an accident, Starscream had never really let it go. Or believed him. Suddenly unsettled, he gently strokes over the human’s head again. Soothing himself and his new pet.

Because this time would be different. He freezes as it leans into his palm, slowly relaxing. Its skin is colder than he remembered, and he frowns as he carefully curls his servos around it. And it leans eagerly into his warmth with a little noise of pleasure. His optics flit to the empty energon cube as it relaxes further against him, its own big eyes peering up at him trustingly. He'd never actually been this close to a human, he realizes. Certainly never touched one.

Venting softly, he uses his free hand to pull his datapad closer so he can finish going through the reports. Stiffening when the human lays its head on his servo, little hands clinging as it soaks up his warmth.

[pirihara]

gonna say that I'm not against europeans/4cc/worlds having a minimum score per se, HOWEVER I do think the minimum should be TES+PCS combined so it's more fair to the skaters who maybe don't have huge jumps but who routinely score level 4 in spins and steps and thus gain high PCS

like it could be something like 60-65 for men, 55-60 for women and pairs, and around 60 for ice dance for short program, for example

because as I've said plenty of times, last I checked this sport was still figure skating, not figure jumping

[sugarcoatednightshade]

I haven’t thought of Lily Orchard in years, but she just made a video on dungeon meshi and I wanted to hear what she had to say. I couldn’t even finish it.

It’s clear she hates anime as a genre and is pissed about having to review something she didn’t want to watch, and that anger permeates the whole* review. On top of that, it’s so fucking disingenuous to review a show that’s not even halfway over and then claim it’s thematically disjointed - like 1. Of course it’ll seem that way if you’ve only seen the first quarter of a piece of work, we’re still in the setting up stage, these themes haven’t had time to fully commingle and resolve and 2. Even considering that, dungeon meshi does actually know what it is/where it’s going, and at this point it’s fairly obvious how all the themes/mixed genera’s are gonna fit together.**

*to be fair, I haven’t seen the entire review, so maybe she calms down partway through. I don’t make a habit of watching things I know will upset me, and watching someone make bad faith criticism of something I like would literally ruin my week

Post chapter 65 spoilers below:

**Granted, cookings prominence in the show, while cute*** on its own, didn’t really seem plot relevant to me until around chapter 65 when it was revealed that in order to save falin they would have to eat her dragon half. Y’all, I went fucking feral over that reveal.

***cute meaning: it’s used mostly for worldbuilding at first. That’s really cool if you’re into it, and an integral part of the story ryoko kui is telling, but not technically necessary in every story. There are plenty of storys who spend needless time expositing about the world instead of focusing on the interesting bits, and if you’re only a quarter of the way into DM, I can see how you might think that this is one of those cases.

But obviously, as time passes, the worldbuilding aspects become more important, because the entire show is about worldbuilding. Or more accurately, it’s a deconstruction of the fantasy genera. It spends time setting up familiar tropes and then examines how those tropes would actually play out in a realistic world, setting up and then questioning our expectations for the world in a really nuanced way.

My favorite example of this is how dungeon meshi treats dark/ancient magic.

1. The words ‘dark magic’ and ‘dark elf’ have negative but vague connotations in traditional fantasy. “The thing is bad because it is bad.” It’s a fact we’re primed to believe, but shallow and easy to question

2. We learn that marcille uses dark magic, but that she’s using it for good. “Actually dark magic is forbidden because the people in power were afraid of The Plebs and want to restrict the populaces access to knowledge” is also a common fantasy trope.

3. As we learn more about dungeons and how they intertwine with dark magic, we learn that it does truly have the power to end the world. Not by itself, but because the dimension it pulls power from is populated by beings who would use that bridge of power to enter our world and cause havoc. Holy shit, we think, black magic is actually dangerous and was banned for a reason. Naming it ‘black’ was part of a smear campaign intended to save the public by dissuading them from using it

4. And then we learn that the so called catastrophe scenario has never happened, no demon has ever escaped a dungeon and successfully ended the world. Is this because of the work of the Canaries and ppl like them, or are demons perhaps not as much of a threat as they are made out to be?

And it’s great because there is no one correct answer. We learn things through the characters, whose perspectives are limited and realistic and based on their own life experience. Nobody knows the whole story, and neither do we.

[collieii]

one line in trimax that's always stuck with me is from chapter 65, right after wolfwood's death. when vash is sticking the punisher by his grave and he says "it was part of his life". that phrasing is so interesting to me. the neutrality of it is one thing that gets me, i think. it was part of his life. for better or worse, whatever it was, the punisher was wolfwood's.

It's pretty easy to think that the punisher might represent violence, the eye of michael, the role of assassin that was forced onto wolfwood, the loss of childhood. but it's not really presented that way, not overtly anyways. we never see wolfwood shun the punisher, he's not conflicted by his use of it. he never considers abandoning it for some other weapon. it's his weapon. he doesn't discard it when he eventually decides to take a more vash-like approach and actually let people live. he pretty easily accepts it as his own, a tool he can use. (to be fair, at least part of that is probably because the punisher is a very good gun.)

the punisher can still represent the harsher aspects of wolfwood's character, the violence he's committed, that he's capable of. that's an important part of his life! and the idea of it as representative of his violent adolescence, childhood that was stripped away, goes along with this - it's literally a cross to bear. but besides showing his past as a burden, i think of the punisher as being a cross of responsibility. when you have a gun you have power, agency - you have a responsibility to make a choice. that's what wolfwood tells vash in chapter 4.

the ability to take a life, the burden of it, is literally his cross to bear. that ability - and that responsibility - was given to him by the eom, literally in terms of the gun, and in terms of his skills. but the eye doesn't think twice about killing people. for them it's not really a choice, a responsibility, it's just a given. but wolfwood can't accept that. he's constantly considering the choices he makes.

so the punisher isn't only a symbol of the eye of michael, of the path that he was forced onto. it's also a way of expressing autonomy. the eye gave wolfwood the gun, but he decides how to use it and what it means. for much of the story wolfwood struggles to decide what to do, he's a very conflicted character. but eventually he resolves to use it against chapel, against knives, to help vash, and protect the orphanage. the gun gives him agency.

so the punisher was part of his life. it was the tool that he used to commit acts of violence, acts that he was forced into, but also the tool he used to break free.

it's heavy for vash, too. he's not exempt from that idea, the idea of responsibility. as wolfwood said much earlier in the story, vash has always been able to sidestep the question of "what do i choose?", because he's only ever given himself one option - everybody lives. and he's always succeeded. but as wolfwood says, "the day will come when you'll have to choose". one day, it's not going to work.

and of course the story progresses, the stakes ramp up, and vash learns more, goes through more, and is pushed to his limits. i think by this point, by wolfwood's death, and maybe because of it, vash has realized that he might have to make that difficult choice in the near future. that's one reason why he wants to "do him proud". he has a lot of reasons to say this of course - to not let wolfwood's sacrifice go to waste, for example. but if we're thinking of the cross as responsibility, then vash is saying he doesn't want to forget the lessons he learned because of wolfwood. wolfwood has always grappled with responsibility, with what the right thing to do is. and the right thing is often not easy. vash hopes that when the times comes for him to make a choice, he'll make a good one, one that does right by wolfwood's memory.

[ponderingmoonlight]

OH EM GEE YOUR REQUESTS ARE OPEN 🙏🙏🙏🙏 fem!reader x megumi fushiguro with a side of injury x angst and hurt but at the end there's fluff/comfort please !! fem!reader gets injured trying to save megumi, (prompt 17) then megumi is like "girl wtf" and then he scolds fem!reader (prompt 2) for getting injured in the process of trying to save him... then fem!reader was like "i was ready to give my heart to you" (prompt 28) and megumi was like "u dont need to do that" and then megumi suddenly confesses ?? (prompt 65) (HELP LMAOOO) and then fem!reader confesses as well and megumi's like "don't leave me." (prompt 61) and then fem!reader's like "dont be silly why would i leave you xo" (prompt 64) so sorry if this was confusing i got too excited 🙏🙏🙏🙏

First of all, I'm so so so sorry this took so long! While I always wrote on this fic from time to time, it wasn't until tonight when I had an idea how to get all of these prompts togehter. While I think it isn't my best work, I hope you still like it <3

Save you

Pairing: Megumi x reader

Word Count: 1,1k

Synopsis: After you recklessly risk your own life to save his, Megumi can't hold back his feelings any longer

Warnings: It's so fluffy I'm gonna dieee and a little shitty writing I'm so sorry guys, proofread, but I'm sick and not concentrated so show some mercy

Rumbling, teeth, blood. It happens faster than you are able to comprehend your surroundings. All you know is that this fucking curse was only inches away from Megumi’s face. Inches away from ripping his skin apart. Inches away from probably killing the boy you are secretly in love with since joining Jujutsu High. It was a reflex, an intuition. Without hesitation, you throw yourself in front of him, hands stretched out in a desperate attempt to shield the merciless attack.

“I’ll get you out of here.”

You did manage to exorcise the curse. But not without your blood splattering everything in vicinity, sharp teeth slicing your delicate flesh open without mercy.

„(y/n)! Why did you do that!?”, Megumi yells at you, eyes widen in pure shock.

Everything hurts. You don’t dare to look down on your own body, instead you just stand there and stare at Megumi.

“Are you out of your mind? You could have died!”, he hollers at you.

In the matter of seconds he stands by your side, frantically taking off his uniform and pressing the fabric against your multiple scorching wounds. Your heart sinks into your chest at the sound of his anger-filled voice.

“Stop yelling at me, I saved you. And you would have done the same for me”, you hiss through gritted teeth, ignoring the pain that spreads around your whole body.

“This was absolutely reckless, (y/n)! I thought you were smarter than that, such behavior doesn’t suit you at all! Don’t you know that I’m able to take care of myself? I don’t need you to risk your own life for me”, he blurts out, every word stabbing into your heart like a knife.

You hate the way your eyes start to instantly burn with tears, completely taking your sight that is fixed on his brown shoes. This is not fair. You did what your intuition told you. And you just know Megumi would do the same for you – maybe not out of love, but friendship. He’d be the first to take a bullet if it means saving his friends.

“And to top it off, you don’t even care about even injured, it’s like yo-“

That’s enough. You can’t hold back any longer.

“If it means that I’ll save you, I’d be ready to give you my heart without even flinching! Because I care about you, idiot”, you yell so suddenly that Megumi flinches at the unusual harsh tone in your voice.

He can’t help but stare at you in disbelief. Megumi has known you for years, long before joining Jujutsu High. And even though he always knew you care for him, he never thought that it would go this far. After all, you’re so breathtaking gorgeous that he never lost a thought about you actually liking him back.

Because for Megumi, it has always been more than a sweet innocent friendship, more than a little sympathy. When he fell, he fell hard, head over heels to be exact. Your words make his heart beat a little louder, world spin a little faster. But still…Still he can’t accept the fact that you’d die so recklessly because of him.

“(y/n), I would rather die than knowing the love of my love got injured because of me…”

Now or never, the way your eyes pierce right through him and the fact that you nearly died because of him let Megumi gather all his courage.

“I can’t hold it back any longer! (y/n)…I think I might be in love with you. No, I’m sure that I love you. I love the way you walk and talk, how you carry yourself with so much elegance. I love the way you make fighting look so effortlessly and the little smile you wear on your face every time you see me. But even though your affection goes far enough to save me, I know you’ll never like me like this…I just needed to get this off my chest. So I hope you don’t leave me, I would totally understand if you don’t wanna speak to be though…”

Minutes feel like hours when all you can do is stand there and stare into the dark ocean of his eyes. All this time, you thought all these things about Megumi himself. That he only likes you as a friend, that he wouldn’t be able to see more in you than his comrade, a simple girl that’s been through some shit on his side. But those sweet words leaving his mouth, him telling you that he loves you…You can’t believe your ears. This has to be a pretty dream, right? Like the ones you desperately try to get back to when waking up, the ones you don’t even have to write down in order to remember.

This is not a dream, though. Your whole body is on fire, limbs burning like hell while your tear-stained cheeks get brushed by an icy wind. No, this is reality. And by the way his eyes glister in nothing but sadness you can tell that he truly believes in his words.

How ironic.

“Don’t be stupid, I’m not leaving you”, you breathe out.

A warm smile creeps up your face as you close the distance between your bodies, fingers intertwining with his. Oh, if he only knew how often you daydreamed about this, how often you told yourself over and over that he doesn’t like you like this, that Megumi Fushiguro will never love you. Little did you know that he felt the exact same way.

“I loved you since joining Jujutsu High. All this time I thought that a wonderful boy like me could never…well…fall in love with someone like me”, you admit shyly.

“You’ve got to be kidding, right?”

He grabs your face, forcing you to look up into his ocean orbs.

“You are the most precious thing walking on this earth. If someone’s lucky than it’s me. Even though I still don’t like that you threw yourself in front of that curse for me. Please never do something like that again.

His breath brushes against your cheek. Is this really happening? Are his lips really lowering themselves at yours, touching them so innocently while all you can do is close your eyes and let yourself sink against his tender touch? No, this is sweet reality.

And all of that because you decided in a split of a second that Megumi is worth all the pain, that your feelings for him are greater than fear.

“I’d always throw myself in front of a curse again if it means that I can do that”, you mumble against his lips.

[thecatchat]

Wandering Warden AU

So, this is purely a self indugent story idea that I don't have the time or energy to make into a full fic, but I'd be open to receiving asks about it.

So, this is partially inspired by that one post about Ingo having a working arcphone and posting on social media about his adventures in Hisui while Emmet and the rest of the poke-world watches on in major concern. But, instead it's Akari and her arcphone doing that. Ingo does become a repeated feature guest, mostly because the chat loves him. Some information is redacted for magical, timeline stability, plot reasons, so people can't just tell Ingo who he is.

Now here's where the real AU starts, that was just flavoring. Once the post game is finished and arceus is captured, it agrees to send both Akari and Ingo home. Also, Lady Sneasler joins Ingo, because do not separate these two, that's her warden, thank you very much. And to be fair, it does send them farther into the future and out of hisui... but not far enough.

They land in the 1920s era of Kalos. Separated from each other! Like, dude, arceus! How are you this inaccurate! While I don't have many ideas for hijinx regarding Akari, I have plenty for Ingo.

First off, Ingo's memory starts improving with the more familiar technology and attitude towards pokemon, but it's very very spotty. He thinks he was raised by a dragon? Or maybe that was a sibling? He's about 65% confident that the man in whites name is Subway. That's the most confident he is in any name.

Like, he has a pile of names, and a pile of concepts of memories of people, and Reshiram help him, the two won't connect in his brain.

So, he starts researching and trying to find legendary or mythical pokemon to get him home. But uh, 1. Extinct variation of sneasler is very much beside him and very much unwilling to stay in a pokeball. 2. Having the ability to make pokeballs that aren't in any way tracked or registered is not looked kindly upon by any government body that is doing that. 3. Having the ability to make pokeballs that aren't in any way tracked or registered is something every crime syndicate would like to learn how to do.

As the heat intensified on him (metaphorically), he needed to lay low. So, he gets a bunch of fabric and covers Lady Sneasler from head toe, addressing her only as Lady S in public.

As for him, well, he actually didn't have one picked out, but as he stumbled into the next town (escaping another crime syndicate, thank Reshiram that they're all very local), he encounters someone in a white conductor hat. And when they ask his name, he said "Emmet". No idea why, but it feels really right to say? Maybe it's his middle name? But, apparently the person they met is The Social Butterfly and introduced him as Emmet to literally every person in town and by the time they've gone through at least 5, Ingo just accepts the fact that his fake name is Emmet now.

And. He makes some friends in this town, so he hunkers down there for a while longer than normal. Namely, a local celebrity singer with a lot of bird+electric pokemon that Ingo continually keeps accidentally calling Skyla (if he sees the bird pokemon first) or Elsa (if he sees the fashion first). He doesn't consciously realize why he's calling her those two names, BTW.

Anyway, there's no train station here and he does need money so he kind of accidentally(ish) ends up a private investigator for a month? Apparently being able to pick out and follow a person in a crowd combined with hisui survival skills make for an excellent tailing ability. Unfortunately, everything catches up again eventually and he has to keep moving.

Luckily, the next stop is a Circus! The ring master is a bit of a Shady character, but they need a conductor so they can become a traveling Circus. Oh? A person who can instinctively drive a train like he's been doing it every day of his life? Hired! Oh, yah, sure you can bring this Lady S along too.

This is where Arkri and Ingo meet up again. At the Circus, where Ingo is still going by Emmet. Arkri almost has a heart attack (and in the not-so-distant future, so is Emmet, as Arkri streams the reunion), but Ingo thankfully explains.

At this point, Ingo has collected enough evidence and whispers of memories to conclude that he's from Unova. Namely, every. Single. Person. In. The. Circus. Comments on how thick of a Unova accent he has. That and looking through some of the pokemon from there jog small bits of memories. ("Too many" he says when he sees the picture of a Joltic)

Uhh... something something, probably all the crime syndicate people coming together to try and get Ingo, the circus standing by Ingo (also having kicked out the old corrupt ring master by now and kinda following Ingo's lead, he's a very good boss ringleader), and they steal a plane owned by pokemon smugglers to go to Unova.

(Nobody knows that they were planning to steal a plane until a new stream starts. Ingo and Akari are sitting against a metal wall and there's a droning noise in the background. Akari looks over at Ingo and asks "Did we really just steal a plane?"

Ingo: "From smugglers, yes. Yes, we did."

Chat: *loses their minds*

So, uh, not sure what pokemon they encounter in Unova that helps them, but finally. After all the trials they've faced. All the stress and struggle. All the effort put into getting back home. They finally make it to the correct time.

*stream starts and points to a sign that Ingo reads out loud in his Train Conductor Voice* "Today is the xxth of [month], 20xx. Welcome to Alola."

*camera points to the very done expression on Ingo's face* "You'd think legendary pokemon would be a little more accurate."

And that's all I've got. Let me know if you want to learn more about anything specific!

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if I called animal services on my parent's neighbours?

I want to begin this with saying neither me nor my parents get on with my parent's neighbours. My parents live in a rural area with about 6 acres of land. The field next door used to be just a large field however 6 years ago got brought by a middle age couple (50 and 65) and they built a house on it with the majority of the field still being used for their horses.

We never got on but for the most part just ignored each other until covid. During covid my parents started walking in the woods behind our house to get out of the house on a daily bases whereas before they would have gone travelling and walking other places. The new neighbours didn't like this. Both properties open directly onto foresty land however the easiest way to get to the main forest path is to walk along the fence that borders neighbours field. To cut a long story short there was a lot of shouting, signs and sticks blocking our way, harassment, and cameras to try and intimidate my parents not to walk behind their property. We got the police involved in the end and have a restraining order against the neighbours so they're not allowed to approach or talk to us within reason (obviously they can be in the field to tend to the horses etc)

I wanted to tell this to get the point that yeah parents and neighbours do not get on at all. Since the restraining order things have been peaceful however I did install a camera at the front of my parents property as we did have some damage that might have been neighbours but could have been anything else really. This was recommended by the police. My parents aren't good with tech so I take care of their phones/netflix and now having the camera connected to my phone so I get the alerts if someone walks by.

The neighbours recently got two puppies though they are now over a year old. They are GSP x Labs so working dogs that in my opinion would need a lot of exercise and enrichment. As I get the notifications for the camera I know what time the neighbour walks past with the dogs and it's every day down the same country road for 10 to 20 mins in the morning. To me it doesn't seem to be enough. I've also noticed since the dogs are growing up and getting stronger/not trained the neighbour seems to be struggling with them. My neighbour is 65 but not the fittest and this past week he's been taking one dog at a time for a 5 minute walk each.

Now all I have is the knowledge of the camera. They could be getting enrichment at home, let loose in the field with the horses to run but to me it just doesn't seem fair on the dogs. But since it's been peaceful for my parents I don't want to rock the boat and maybe cause the neighbours to retaliate. Even anon they probably would know who it is who called the animal services on them. But I also hate to see dogs not living their best life. I have no doubt they aren't getting mistreated and are well fed. I just don't think they are the right dogs for an middle age couple that do not leave the house except to get shopping and can barely give them a 10 minute walk. I don't even really agree with how they keep their horses either but again they're not mistreating them just keeping young horses in a field all day and not doing any training or anything at all with them. Just seems unfair.

Sorry for the long post, just been weighing on my mind.

What are these acronyms?

[devildomwriter]

Their First and Last Lines of Volume Four

Lucifer

First: “Quiet, all of you.” — (61-4)

Last: *sigh* “I knew it wouldn’t stay quiet around here for long…” — (80-22)

Mammon

First: “Hey, I see what you’re doin’ there, Lord Diavolo! And it isn’t fair!” — (61-1)

Last: “Nuh-uh!!” — (80-22)

Leviathan

First: “If you get to talk to MC, WE get to talk to MC! It’s the LAW! …Okay, no it isn’t, but still.” — (61-1)

Last: “AAAAAAAAH!” *sob* — (80-16 Hard)

Satan

First: “How’s your training coming along?” — (61-1)

Last: “No, MC’s mine.” — (80-22)

Asmodeus

First: “MC, how are you?! Good?!” — (61-1)

Last: “Oh MC! I’ve missed you sooo sooo SOOO much!” — (80-22)

Beelzebub

First: “Have you been eating enough?” — (61-1)

Last: “In that case, we’ll be able to see each other whenever we want from now on, huh?” — (80-22)

Belphegor

First: “Yeah, I want to send a letter to MC, too.” — (61-1)

Last: “Right, exactly. Because MC’s mine.” — (80-22)

Solomon

First: “Okay, ready? This is the incantation for a teleportation spell…” — (61-1)

Last: “All right, all right…fine. We’ll go to the book signing with you. Okay?” — (80-16 Hard)

Thirteen

First: “Ahahahaha!” or “Ugh, what was THAT?! Honestly, I don’t believe it!” — (65-3)

Last: “No. This is my first time studying at RAD, remember? My program runs for a full year.” — (80-17)

Simeon

First: “Ah, Solomon. Welcome. It’s been a while!” — (61-16 Hard)

Last: “Anyway, I feel like maybe I’ve made a bit of progress on my personal journey now?” — (80-16 Hard)

Luke

First: “MC…?” — (64-2)

Last: “Aww… I want to see MC too, but they aren’t leaving me enough space to get through…” — (80-22)

Raphael

First: “…I have to say, I take that as an insult. You think I’m Michael? I do not appreciate being mistaken for that socially inept weirdo. My name is Raphael. Try to remember that in the future.” or “Correct.” or “…Wrong. If you don’t know, say so. Don’t just guess at random. My name is Raphael.” — (65-6)

Last: “…Have you forgotten that I’m standing right here? If you’re about to have a “moment”…don’t.” — (80-19)

Little D. No.2

First: “Here you are. Your assignment!” — (65-17)

Last: “Y-Yes sirrr…” — (68-16)

Mephistopheles

First: “Don’t touch that!” — (63-1)

Last: “It’s the same with Solomon. Your terms should be ending soon, right?” — (80-17)

Barbatos

First: “I took the liberty of preparing some assorted pastries and desserts. I’m afraid it’s not much, but I hope it will suffice.” — (61-19)

Last: “Shall I go make some tea?” — (80-22)

Diavolo

First: “Hey there, MC!” — (61-1)

Last: “Ahaha! Come on, take it easy…all of you. You’re going to suffocate MC.” — (80-22)

[idontknowreallywhy]

Thanks to @ficwip for the questions. Thought I’d have a go to see where I’ve got up to / maybe motivate myself out of a writing slump.

Didn’t quite manage to get it done by end of year but I never do finish anything by NYE and consequently as a mid-January birthday girl I often decide to have my new year start a little later in the month anyway so…

Herewith waffle mostly written while trying not to nod off on a plane…

1. How many fics have you worked on since January?

Complicated question… I THINK - 29 in total?

In terms of what I’ve actually POSTED here…

11 one-shots [ How to Infuriate Your Engineer , The Last of Them , Comb , Pressure , Push , Shine , Expert , Thread , Scott is Not Fine Catharsis , A Refrigeration Situation ] - 11,502 words total.

65 Chapters covering 10 fics [ Estera (3) ; Bearded (3) ; Presence (5) ; Composition (4) ; Resurface (36) ; Father’s Day (4) ; Teeth (2) ; 75 (3) ; Fishtank-ed Up (2) ; An Eyebrow-Razing Incident (3) ] - 72,263 words total.

54 WIP Snippets which haven’t become finished chapters or one-shots yet covering 3 of the above and 8 other fics [ Blue (15) ; Estera (12) ; Burn it All (8) ; Snapshots (2) , Octopus House (4) ; Red (3) ; Fishtank-ed Up (3) ; In a Glass Darkly (1) ; Oort Cloud (3) ; Resurface (1) ; ?? (2) ] - 17,703 words total.

All that totals 101,468 tumblr-posted fic-words so I did hit my target of 100k although I didn’t actually FINISH as many stories as I intended to!

Then there is an additional 46,000 I have in draft for the Estera universe… some of which might make in into publishable form at some stage, some just for my own amusement 🤣 plus another 4,000 or so for other fics including the end of Resurface… and a couple of brand new ones which may or may not see the light of day…

So objectively I really did do a fair bit of writing this year and shall endeavour to allow myself to be proud of this!

2. What’s something new that you tried in a fic this year?

Err… Finishing one? 🤣

Did I though… um…

Ok scratch that.

I wrote a cheesy little song for one of them then threaded references to it through some chapters in a couple of fics. That was new. Whether successful? Well I like it but I can hear it in my head which probably makes it work better for me than anyone else. However I enjoyed myself so…

3. What piece of media inspired you the most? (This can be the fandom you wrote the most for, the one that spawned the most ideas, the one you thought about the most, etc.).

Well, my beloved Thunderbirds are Go, obviously! Hyperfixation much?

4. How many fandoms did you write for this year?

Just the one :)

5. What ships captured your heart?

Newly this year? I guess to interpret the word ‘captured’ literally to mean ‘possessed entirely against my will’ then I guess… Scott/Havoc (even though I still scream NOOOoOoOOoOOOOOO internally when I type that!). It’s not a natural fit for me as I do tend to favour some potential for a happy ending and it’s harder to see how it is possible with this ship but some fabulous fics have emerged on it. I do love a redemption arc though and I like how various people have developed Havoc’s character in their stories. But also still noooooooo my little guy deserves better-happier-uncomplicated. But also also yeeeeeesssssssss.

6. What characters captured your heart?

Weirdly, because I did not intend this at all and most of the time I want to slap him with a really large fish… I’ve written a fair bit of Jeff POV in the latter part of the year! Both pre-Lucy death and post-ZeroX. In between those times I still want to slap him with that fish.

7. Did you write for any new fandoms or ships this year?

A new ship, yes. And one that was completely unexpected and I don’t think anyone else has tried yet but I’m enjoying it. Not made a lot of progress yet so won’t say any more than that!

8. What fic meant the most to you to write?

Resurface I think. It covers a heck of a lot of headcanons and yeah… it turns out walloping Virgil is a fun way to prod at all of the bro relationships. And I have enjoyed the process of iteratively fixing Earth&Sky because (as I seem to have written it at least) their partnership is beautiful but kind of messed up and I have to believe they can get a better balance back. I hope the way I’ve done it works for people.

9. What fic made you feel the happiest to work on?

I think 75. It was really fun to look forward and imagine a good love-and-family-filled future for them all, especially my boy who didn’t think he’d get one.

10. What fic was the most satisfying to finish writing?

Well I was hoping to say Resurface but given I haven’t yet… hmmm. I might also have said Father’s Day until I randomly started to write more of it 😅 err… what have I actually finished? Let’s say 75 cos I actually finished that! (and pretend I don’t have an idea for a follow on)

11. What fic was the most difficult to write?

Estera. Which is a strange answer in some respects as I’ve compulsively written loads of it (as above!) but well… I’ve had a bit of a crisis of confidence and hit a silly, anxious wall about writing the actual chapter that comes next in the story and thus it has hung in limbo for months. My dearest co-writer is despairing of me perhaps only marginally less than I am despairing of myself!

12. What fic was the easiest to write?

The early parts of Resurface just rushed out as fast as I could type them… it got harder as I tried to heal them from the mess I made though 🙃 More recently the Oort Jeff stuff has been the topic for the most readily flowing words.

13. What were your shortest and longest fics posted this year?

Ignoring WIP posts, shortest would be “Scott is Not Fine” which is barely more than a Drabble at 202 words.

Longest? If it needs to be entirely within the year - Resurface (49,720 & counting) but I added a little to Estera which is longest overall (72,319 posted) but that word count is shared with some other wonderful writers and is mostly 2023.

14. What were your go-to writing songs

I have a few playlists for depending on what I’m writing :)

I do listen to the OST a lot when out and about but often not when actually writing as I guess each part of it is so strongly linked to what is happening in the episodes that it is distracting if I’m writing something different. Often I get ideas by listening to something totally random. I listen to a lot of classical and it may only be a few phrases that nudge something -any kind of soprano/tenor instructment interaction (e.g. cello/violin, trumpet/french horn, flute/bassoon) immediately conjures Earth&Sky for me. 99% of my writing is with music of some kind in the background (because I usually have an earbud in) although in retrospect I might not be able to tell what it was.

15. What was the hardest fic to title?

Resurface. Because I had another title in mind but it was already the title of one of my all-time favourite fics. But then this one came to mind and fitted perfectly!

16. What's your favorite title of the year

Haha, well I like what I’ve been doing with the chapter titles of Resurface. But “An Eyebrow-Razing Incident” is probably my favourite for the pun / spoiler combo.

17. Share your favorite opening line

Virgil’s forehead sank onto the bar and squelched slightly.

18. Share your favorite ending line

A brand new score had been opened. But Virgil knew the notes now. They’d compose this next version together.

19. Share your favorite piece of dialogue

This one because I worked on it for so long to get it right. It’s by no means the only important moment between Scott and Virgil… but is the first of a few steps to sorting things out:

“And I’m… grey, then?”

“No! Not usually! You’ve always been blue, like the sky… there are so many shades of it, with hints of yellow or gold…”

“There’s a but coming, I can feel it.”

Virgil grabbed Scott’s hand again as if to reassure himself his brother wouldn’t float away before he managed to express this.

“Sometimes it’s like you fade a little.”

“I fade?”

“You try to be a lot of things, Scotty and it’s admirable, it really is, and you do it so well but sometimes I worry there isn’t enough of you left to be you.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you. You’re blue when you laugh at your own jokes, or smotherhen us and make a leaning tower of pancake… when you beat Gordy at his own prank game or act all melodramatic when you’re smuggling in the sweets Grandma doesn’t approve of. When someone says pie and your eyes gleam and when you randomly recite Shakespeare inaccurately and out of context or run up the stairs for no reason and surprise hug Allie… those times you’re a rainbow of blues. In the field when you’re problem solving at the speed of light and oh! That time you flew Shadow just for fun you came back shining so brightly…”

Yet again at the mention of Shadow, Scott had startled but recovered quickly and deflected:

“My Shakespeare is always in context.”

“Sure it is, Scott. And it’s very YOU.”

A flicker of resolve hardened his brother’s expression and Virgil was suddenly terrified as to how his clumsy explanation could have been interpreted by someone who was already chronically shackled to the ‘brave face’ impulse…

“But Scott, listen to me, this is important.”

He waited until his brother dropped his eyes from the horizon and met his own.

“I’m not saying it’s just when you are happy, you know? When you’re worried or angry or even sick or even… no, especially when you let yourself be vulnerable for one damn second, you’re you then too.”

“Then…” Scott sagged a little and an edge of indigo desperation coloured his voice “I don’t understand what the grey thing is meant to mean!”

“The grey thing… I guess it’s how my brain interprets the way I sometimes miss you when you are right in front of me. When you get hidden by everything else you think you are supposed to be. You lead so naturally, you do it without even trying but sometimes… sometimes you put on that damn grey baldric and it smothers you.”

“But the baldric is silver. My baldric is silver to match One!”

“It used to be blue though. Blue to match you.”

20. Share your funniest line

Ooh. I don’t know if I do “lines” - most of my attempts at humour are situation or context-specific…

But I’ll go with this little section from toddler-Scotty because it still makes me chuckle:

“Dada! ‘Cotty duck in fidge. Oh no!”

The tiny child lifted his apple sauce covered hands and looked at them as if suddenly realising they were attached to his arms. Bright blue eyes gazed down at him with an expression of extreme innocence:

“Oh no! ‘Cotty all messy! Ooopsiiiieee!”

Clearly realising his father had no follow-up questions to his comprehensive situational update, Scott plunged his hand back into the dish and shoved a fistful of pie crust into his mouth.

21. What's something that surprised you while you were working on a fic? Did it change the story?

This is a tricky one because frankly everything I manage to create surprises me.

Resurface surprised me with its length. I am a sucker for detail and dialogue and combining that with the fact I had a lot to get the boys to work through… it shouldn’t have surprised me really. But it did.

22. What writing programs did you use? Did you write by hand?

By hand? Hahaha, I’d never know what I’d written!

I’m still playing the risky game and throwing things down in apple notes on iphone, although have been trying to tag them a bit now so I can actually find things. I tried google docs - it drove me crackers by messing with my punctuation although I tend to copy paste into that when I’m finished to get a word count. Tried a couple of online drafting tools but they felt over-complicated. So am still in market for a good app I guess.

23. If you had to choose one, what was THE most satisfying writing moment of your year?

In retrospect I think maybe the end of Composition. Which is funny because despite having planned it for AGES as a kind of bridge between Presence and Resurface, I rushed the last chapter out in a hurry as I’d hit the point in Resurface that refers back to it and needed to ensure all the parts of the circle were in place. But exploring how Virgil sees the world is one of my favourite things and setting that short fic in a musical context was very satisfying. And it may be cheesy but this line still makes me smile:

With a satisfied hum, Scott pressed his cheek into his head and the timid, hopeful note in Virgil’s heart swelled into a triumphant chord of determination.

24. Did you do anything special to celebrate finishing a fic?

Yes. I commissioned a piece of fanart and it is beautiful and perfect and I desperately want to share it but I must not until I finish the darn story because the whole point was it was a reward for finishing (I just got it a touch early…)

SOOON THOUGH.

25. How did you recharge between fics?

What is this ‘between’ you speak of? 🧐

26. Did you create fanworks other than fic?

No, unless Tiny Tracys count 🤣

27. How many events did you take part in? (bangs, exchanges, ship weeks, zines, prompt memes, they all count!)

I’m not good at prompts with time limits, it seems. I did write a little for Fishtank Week and there was the Secret Santa of course.

28. If this were an awards show, who would you thank?

So many people, basically all of Thunderfam who have encouraged me to try something I never thought I could do. But if I start a list I know I’ll miss someone then feel bad so I’ll stick to just one shoutout to @sofasurf for constantly encouraging me in both writing and life in general and who is a most excellent co-conspirator.

29. What's left on your to-do list for 2024?

Well I WAS going to say “finish Resurface” but… *eyes calendar and sighs*

30. What would you like to write next year?

Obv finish Resurface, and then I want to find my confidence with Estera again. So many ideas for Scott & Jeff and Allie & Scott and some fish tank too… and I’d like to write more John and more Kayo… not to mention the big mad apocalyptic fic which I really need to plot out properly before doing any more with…

But probably I’ll just end up writing about the boys playing on an airport travelator or stuck at the bottom of a hole or something because sometimes the pieces I’m most proud of are the ones that come out of nowhere 🙄😅🤪

[bloodyshadow1]

somethings that could have made the Apology Tour better in my opinion under the cut. I liked the episode, but I thought some things were clunky or underused. The point was good, but somethings bogged it down to me and some changes might have helped.

get rid of Dennis at the party, I think him being there undermines the whole purpose of the party. The people there are supposed to be Blitz's exes who are hurt by the way he treated them, Dennis was a rando he made out with at a party not someone he hurt. Blitz was an asshole to him sure, but he doesn't qualify as someone Blitz hurt really.

More blood moon than Apology Tour, but instead of having Stolas leave before/in the middle of Blitz' apology, have Blitz start to apologize but quickly turn it around or stop because he couldn't. This episode frames how Blitz never gave a real apology, Stolas even says that, but then he leaves in the middle of Blitz trying to give one, which isn't fair. If that was the point against Stolas than I would understand but it feels weird when the episode doesn't seem to be making that point and agrees with him. Blitz starting to apologize and being unable to being the final straw for Stolas to leave would be a better set up for the episode than him leaving while Blitz is trying to say he's sorry. I don't think the apology would have saved their relationship, but it would have framed Apology Tour better.

Make it more balanced on who is at fault because Blitz and Stolas are both at fault. I think Blitz is more to blame, like 65% to Stolas' 35% but both are to blame for their relationship (or lack thereof) falling apart. I'm mostly fine with it since Blitz is the main character, the show is going to deal wiht his issues first. I think/hope Stolas will have an episode in the future where he is forced to confront the fact that he was also unfair to Blitz. For whatever he says now, he did look down on Blitz and disrespect him, playfully perhaps but he didn't treat him like an equal, but like a plaything. He would have known about the assassin if he paid attention to his wife talking to him at the dinner table, Blitz might have come if Stolas sounded serious on the phone instead of lackadaisical. He is to blame for their relationship being what it is too and the show should acknowledge that.

give the exes names and maybe even explain how blitz hurt them. I can understand the points the episode was trying to make, but by only having the people we already know and Dennis being the ones with names and the ones we know the story of, it kind of hurts the premise. Having one or two of the exes have a song about how shitty Blitz was to them when they thought they were together and Verosika naming them when they did would help to make the exes feel more like characters than concept art. Because I like the imp ex dressed up like Beetlejuice or the two women Exes who are more into each other than hating Blitz, but they're just background characters not actual characters. Adding names to even a few of them would make them feel more than just numbers that Blitz slept with and hurt.

Blitz throughout the series is fine with having sex and flirting with anyone he finds attractive. I could see him hurting a lot of people for a number of reasons, especially the ones he actually liked because he got scared and sabotages the relationship. But I guess what I'm trying to say is that I don't think I believe he was in a relationship with these people enough to hurt all of them. some of them sure, but I don't know I get that Blitz is desperate for love, but I don't know all these people should be considered exes. I think it would have been interesting if there were some who were one night stands or quick fucks who dont' like the guy but come for the party and those who are genuinely hurt from something Blitz did.

I would take out the second blitz/Stolas conversation. I don't think it really added anything except pain to the story, which is understandable, but we already know the characters are hurt. Instead I would have Verosika in Blitz's position, letting Stolas have someone in his corner to talk to. I love Verosika this episode, not just because I'm a dumb lesbian, but because she feels like Fitz in the ep we see him after Ozzie's, more of a character than someone who hates Blitz. I think she was underutilized and would have been sweet for her to be the one to get Stolas to open up, drunk or not. I think she would have better in writing and for Stolas for him to have someone to talk to not at, like he did to Blitz in the episode. I think her shooting down his desire to be loved like in a romcom would be better for him to hear than Blitz. Blitz could even be eavesdropping on them and being hurt by what he hears. I think if Verosika gave Stolas good advice that wasn't just drink or fuck yourself numb, but encourage him to have fun and explore something that he likes, even if it's just dancing with the handsome incubus that he dances and kisses later.

I dont' know, probably just bullshit, but I wanted to get this out because I did enjoy the episode, but the tag is full of people either hating it or loving it and my mind doesn't work like that. I like a lot of things, but I don't think there's anything perfect, I just know how it would have made the episode better for me personally. I'll also admit I'm not super into the Blitzo/Stolas ship, I get it but I think it's better for them to spend some time apart presonally so others might disagree.

[kawarikisaki]

It really shouldn’t be surprising Hakuba is strong he’s a modern Holmes like Shinichi and Holmes casually straitened a fire poker a villain bent to intimidate him. Wouldn’t surprise me if he worked on being surprisingly strong just because he wants to be like Holmes.

Mm yeah.

I always kinda forget that Shinichi’s that strong, too, since most of the times we see Shinichi, he's actively melting from poison... but yeah, he's pretty strong.

And as far as the Gosho boys go I had honestly always thought of Hakuba as being physically stronger than Kaito or Shinichi just by pure merit of being bigger (he's a little taller and wider canonically, but I tend to make him a bit taller than that still). But like while its safe to assume that as a sherlockian detective he'd take up some kind of hobby or sport to train his body I’d really just thought of him as being strong in a casual way.

Strong enough that he doesn't sweat when he's chasing after Kaito. Sure. Strong enough to lift a person? Yeah probably, there are any number of reasons a detective may need to carry someone-

But what really got me was how effortless it looked.

My boi didn't struggle.

He Strong.

Let's break it down (cause I assume no one asks me these things expecting me to be normal about them). Fair warning there’s about to be a lot of estimates here:

We know Hakuba is 180 cm (5'11") and 65 kg (143 lbs). These are numbers Hakuba gave us himself so they could be inflated, but it actually tracks with the height that we have for Kaito so Im just going to assume this is correct.

Now then the numbers we have for Kaito are 174cm (5'7") and 58kg (127lbs).

Making Kaito approximately 89% Hakuba’s weight.

And of course its going to be quite a while before this case gets animated so we can't have a exact measure of how long he was holding him, so im going to lowball it and say it was 3 minutes, maybe I'll revisit this when its animated.

And maybe I’m projecting... but it would mess up my back if I held that much weight for that long.

[gravitywonagain]

Hot Tub Burn Out

(a Fresh Powder in the Pine Trees story)

.

The pavement is cold on Wei Ying’s bare feet as he steps out of the locker room toward the hot tubs. There’s days-old snow along the side of the path. Dirt and pine needles mar the white and it’s melted and iced so many times that it looks crunchy. The rough, white towel the resort provides is draped over his shoulders, but is too thin to provide much warmth against the cold conducting its way up his body from his toes. 

He walks quickly, cursing himself for not bringing flip flops with him, but something stops him. There’s someone swimming in the Olympic lap pool. In winter. At night. He shifts his direction, accepting the toe-numbing cold for a little bit longer in order to satisfy his curiosity. 

When he approaches the pool, Wei Ying finds that he isn’t even surprised. It’s Lan Zhan. He’s doing laps, actual laps -- the butterfly, if Wei Ying remembers his strokes right -- at 8pm on a weeknight in an outdoor pool surrounded by snow. Because of course he is. 

Lan Zhan switches to freestyle, swimming away from Wei Ying, as Wei Ying steps up to the side. He must notice his audience at some point because, after the kickflip, he slows, coming to a stop fifteen feet from where Wei Ying is standing. 

He treads water, looking like some kind of aquatic god, bathed in pale moonlight, water droplets like gems, adorning his skin next to his necklace. He reaches up to clear chlorine from his eyes and pushes his hair out of his face and Wei Ying forgets how to breathe. 

Wei Ying swears he’s seeing in slow motion, and he’s not even stoned yet. It’s not fair! He wants to touch him so badly. Fuck. Why can’t he touch him, again?

He hears laughter from around the corner and remembers why he’s here. He allows the sheer ridiculousness of the situation to distract him from Lan Zhan’s arms (and chest and shoulders and neck and...).

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying starts calmly, “Why are you swimming in a non-heated pool? In the middle of winter?” He does not end calmly. 

“It is heated,” says Lan Zhan, entirely apathetic, maybe a little sarcastic. 

“Oh? How heated?”

“65 degrees Fahrenheit.”

Wei Ying takes a breath, watches it condense. Well, at least he can still pronounce Fahrenheit. “What the fuck, Lan Zhan?”

“It is. Calming.”

“‘It is calming,’” Wei Ying mocks, “It’s freezing!”

“It is not.”

He’s talking about the water temperature, because he’s witty like that. But Wei Ying isn’t about to let a technicality lose him an argument. He narrows his eyes to avoid rolling them. 

“It is. It’s 21 degrees outside. Get your ass in the fucking hot tub, Wim Hof.”

Lan Zhan swims toward the side of the pool where his resort towel is laying (on! the! snow!) and Wei Ying thinks he can hear him mutter to himself, “There’s actually some very compelling medical research into Wim Hof’s methods.”

If Wei Ying wasn’t so distracted by the sight of Lan Zhan lifting himself out of the water, he might take it as a personal achievement that Lan Zhan is just doing what Wei Ying told him to do. Not to mention that he was actually muttering, out loud, to himself and Wei Ying. 

But Wei Ying is very distracted. Lan Zhan is very close to naked, dripping wet, and glistening in the fucking moonlight. Whoever decided not to light the pool tonight made an excellent decision. Top marks for that person. Wei Ying should buy that person a beer. 

Wei Ying can’t stop staring. He’s forgotten that he’s not supposed to. Not here, with the instructors just around the corner, and the whole of Cloud Recesses around them. None of that seems to register with Wei Ying right now. He just watches as Lan Zhan towels himself off, somehow not shivering in the frigid air, muscles flexing and relaxing with the easy motions. Wei Ying half expects to see ice crystals forming in his perfectly sculpted eyebrows. 

And Lan Zhan… Lan Zhan is letting him look. 

It’s so much more than seeing him shirtless in the backcountry. It’s… it’s everything. Arms and shoulders and abs and sexlines and thighs and calves. His shorts are not baggy, either, and his ass looks amaz-- 

It’s too much. 

There are people here. Wei Ying is not allowed to jump Lan Zhan in the Cloud Recesses Village Swim and Fitness Center. 

Wei Ying turns away from-- the everything of him, and starts back down the path to the hot tubs, hoping that Lan Zhan will follow and not use his embarrassment as an excuse to bail. 

He could. Easily. It’s not even unlikely, really. Wei Ying’s efforts to force Lan Zhan to spend more time with the instructors have been going well, but he still has yet to seek them out on his own. Tonight serves as an obvious example. 

“Fucking instructors are like twenty yards away,” Wei Ying mutters to himself, a distraction more than anything, “and here you are doing laps in a pool.”

It’s February. Wei Ying still has time to work on it.

In all fairness, it turns out that the only actual instructors there are him and Mianmian. But she’s Wei Ying’s boss, technically, too! And they’re sharing a joint in a hot tub. This is a ski resort. Who cares about management hierarchies? Lan Zhan, apparently. 

-

When Lan Zhan does actually join them in the hot tub, Mianmian is already in fine form. She’s holding the joint Wei Ying just passed her and is partway into a new tangent, this time about... the Lion King? Wei Ying is pretty sure he’d heard something about Simba.

“Okay but, here’s the thing,” she says, “here’s the thing.”

She pauses to take a hit and pass it on to Wen Qing. When Wen Qing takes it, Mianmian, clearly already well into her happy place, stops and stares at where their fingers are touching. It’s endearing as fuck. 

Nie Huaisang is, perhaps, less endeared and prompts her, “Go on.” 

Mianmian looks up at him, confused, as she releases the smoke in her lungs. She’s completely lost the thread.

“So the Lion King,” says Wei Ying, trying not to laugh.

Lan Zhan steps down onto the cement bench next to him and Wei Ying suddenly has so much sympathy for Mianmian’s struggle. 

“The Lion King,” Wen Qing confirms when Mianmian looks to her. 

“They always want to fucking watch the Lion King,” says Mianmian, working her way back, spacey and slow.

Wei Ying laughs, “They do!”

“It’s never Space Jam,” she says softly, almost disbelieving her own words, “Why is it never Space Jam?”

“Terrible taste, those six year olds,” says Wen Ning, who is usually much too shy to make jokes around people. Wei Ying is so proud. 

Lan Zhan’s fingers brush Wei Ying’s shoulder as he settles and Wei Ying is either not high enough or too high for this. Lan Zhan’s face is carefully blank. 

“So, the Lion King,” Nie Huisang prompts, again, drawing Wei Ying’s attention back to Mianmian. 

“Right,” she says, serious now that she seems to remember her original rant, “the Lion King. The beginning of the movie, right? We see happy little lion family doing happy lion family things like pouncing lessons and riding zebras.”

“Sure.”

“And then. And then.” Mianmian pauses, palms out like she’s about to drop some brand new information in a dramatic reveal, “Mufasa fucking dies.” 

Nobody speaks for a minute, not sure if that was the reveal or not.

“Yes,” says Wen Qing, “we’ve seen it.”

Mianmian doesn’t seem to register that her words didn’t land like she thought they should. She just continues.

“But that’s the thing!” she cries, “He dies. All of these kids watch the father die. On screen. And they watch Simba, and they are Simba, and Mufasa is dead! And each and every one of them has a tiny moment where they are awakened to the idea of their own parents’ mortality.”

This time, when the silence settles over the bubbling of the hot tub jets, it’s tinged with that reality shifting stunned feeling that only happens when you’re stoned. Wen Ning takes a hit and passes the joint to Nie Huaisang who doesn’t even look at him when he takes it. He inhales only to realize that the cherry is out and that’s what finally breaks everyone’s quiet reverie. 

“Holy shit, Mianmian,” says Wei Ying, because he can’t come up with anything better or more coherent.

“This is what I’m saying!”

“Okay, but, serious question: Why don’t they ever want to watch Space Jam?”

-

The night is cold and Wei Ying feels good. He hops up to sit on the edge of the hot tub every now and then both to cool off and to give Lan Zhan a taste of his own medicine. Lan Zhan had said that he likes looking at him, so now he can look. While they’re surrounded by people. While they’re at Cloud Recesses. Look but not touch.

He takes another hit, reaching to take the joint from Nie Huaisang over Lan Zhan’s head. If he stretches a little on purpose, nobody here will call him on it. Or, they might, but he doesn’t give a shit. He likes these people and they like him. 

The smoke settles into his blood with that loose, heavy feeling that makes everything move just a little slower. His lungs burn, a satisfying sting, and he exhales, directing the cloud up and away from the hot tub with an easy jaw flex. He watches it catch the breeze and dissipate under the moon. 

He passes it to Mianmian but she stops him from leaning back. She inhales and hands it back to him before drawing Wen Qing to her. She tilts her head and Wen Qing opens her mouth, a smile in her eyes, and matches their lips. 

Wei Ying reaches across the tub to hand the joint to Wen Ning who looks like he very much wants a distraction from his sister’s… flirting? Sure. Wei Ying laughs and sits back. He will absolutely give Wen Qing shit about “not dating” Mianmian later. 

He very determinedly does not think about shotgunning with Lan Zhan. But telling himself to not think about Lan Zhan works about as well now as it does when he’s sober, which is to say it doesn’t. At all. Now it’s all he can think about. Angling Lan Zhan’s head with his hand, sealing their lips together, sharing smoke and breath, watching Lan Zhan’s eyes glaze with the high, finding out if he smiles while stoned. 

Wei Ying braces his hands on the cement and leans back. The moon has chased away a lot of the stars, but they’re still on a mountain outside of town. It’s more stars than he saw in the city anyway. It’s a beautiful distraction, and a good one. He has no idea what’s going on until he hears Nie Huaisang give voice to exactly the thing he’s trying to distract himself from. 

“You wanna hit, Lan Zhan?” he says, incredibly chill, like he’s not obliterating Wei Ying’s carefully built mental containment wall. The mortar is still drying for fuck’s sake, give it a minute. 

“No thank you,” says Lan Zhan. And then, “My recent experience of waking up in Jin Zixuan’s guest room with no memory of how I got there is enough for the month.”

Wei Ying is so impressed that he just… said that? Lan Zhan actually just offered up an experience that might be embarrassing for him to a group of people that he works with. That didn’t know that. That didn’t need to know that. But also didn’t need to not know that. Holy shit. Wei Ying is so proud. Is Lan Zhan contact high? 

“Oh shit!” says Mianmian, apparently no longer attached to Wen Qing’s lips, “You know Jin Zixuan?”

Lan Zhan nods and leans forward to converse with Mianmian without Wei Ying. What the fuck? This is amazing! How is nobody else freaking out about this? No. It’s good that nobody is drawing any amount of attention to it, but holy fuck!

Nie Huaisang, probably taking advantage of Lan Zhan’s focus being somewhere else, sits up on the edge of the hot tub and leans over to Wei Ying. He’s not whispering, but he’s not exactly projecting so Wei Ying leans in, too.

“Is that why you guys left early?” he asks. 

“Yeah.”

Nie Huaisang nods in something like understanding and disappointment. “Lans all have a notoriously low alcohol tolerance,” he says with a shrug, then adds, “Da-ge says Huan-ge’s a runner.”

Wei Ying tries not to laugh at that image. He really does. But Nie Mingjue chasing after a drunk Lan Huan as he runs away -- probably taunting as he goes, if he’s a secret bitch like his brother -- is just too much. His stifled laughter dissolves into full giggles and he lays back on the cold cement to let them bubble out of him. 

Nie Huaisang disappears back into the water and Wei Ying loses track of time. He watches the stars move. Listens to his heart beat. Counts pine needles. 

At some point Lan Zhan sits up on the edge next to him and leans back on his hands. He looks happy, like he’s actually enjoying this. Being around other people his age and just hanging out and talking. He’s almost smiling. 

Wei Ying swings his feet, dragging his ankles through the hot water, feeling where it catches against his leg hair. He looks over and up at Lan Zhan. From this perspective, Wei Ying sees his brilliant profile, lit from below by the hot tub lights and outlined by the starry sky. He’s so beautiful. It should be illegal to be that beautiful in real life and not, like, a photoshopped celebrity or something. 

Wei Ying watches a drop of -- water? sweat? -- drip from Lan Zhan’s temple down his cheek. It follows his jawline and Wei Ying is just stoned enough to let his eyes focus on it as it moves over perfectly smooth skin. 

If the snow was softer, he might get out of the hot tub and go lay in it. He can feel himself getting out of control. Can feel his arousal lighting up his fucking fingertips. Feel it staticky in his hair. It’s frenetic. 

He’s sure he’s being too obvious, but everyone here is a friend and also similarly stoned and none of them will give a fuck except, maybe, to laugh at him for it later. He can take that. He wishes Lan Zhan would look at him. Wants to do something to draw his attention. Something shameless. Something like biting his ears or maybe straddling his lap. 

Maybe he should go jump in the “heated” pool. Apparently it’s “calming.” 

Lan Zhan looks back at him. Down at him. At him. 

And Wei Ying’s heart stops in his chest. His lungs freeze, his muscles tense. He feels like he’s about to have a panic attack. 

Time stops, except that it doesn’t. Wei Ying can hear conversations continuing beyond his focus, he can feel the earth still rotating beneath him. But also those things don’t exist. The only real thing is the way he and Lan Zhan are looking at each other right now: hungry and trapped. 

The moment stretches on like salt water taffy, pulling taut -- heart-pounding -- until gravity and weed-smoke warp it, make it droop downward, sticky and soft and salty-sweet. 

Wei Ying wants to taste Lan Zhan’s skin. He wants to sit up and lick into his mouth, bite his nipple, leave marks all over his chest. He wants. He wants. And Lan Zhan’s eyes look overflowing with the same desires, the same urgency. A gooey kind of feedback loop that only seems to keep building between them the longer they stare at each other -- the marshmallow squished and kneaded between fingers until it created its own sugary tension. 

It’s Nie Huaisang’s voice that finally breaks through. His voice and his hand as he reaches around Lan Zhan and taps Wei Ying’s knee. 

“Hey, remember when we rented that cabin in South Lake for Spring Break junior year?”

It sounds like the continuation of a conversation that Wei Ying hasn’t even been tuning out so much as he forgot other people existed. But he sits up and joins in anyway. 

“Fuck,” he says, with feeling, “I could kill for a deep powder cabin weekend. Weekday. Whatever.”

Nie Huaisang grins. It’s maybe a little sharp. “Don’t the Lans have a family cabin?” he asks Lan Zhan, and it’s very easy to see where this is going. 

“Huaisang,” says Wei Ying, meaning it to sound like a warning. He’s not sure it does. 

Lan Zhan looks over at Nie Huaisang and then back to Wei Ying, “We do.”

Nie Huaisang’s grin widens, the cutting edges of his teeth peeking over his bottom lip, as he begins to arrange a getaway at the Lan Cabin for the six of them sitting there. 

Trust Nie Huaisang to always have an ulterior motive. 

-

The sauna is empty when the three of them file in. Wen Ning immediately takes the spot in the corner and Nie Huaisang and Wei Ying lay out on the benches. 

The arid heat settles in Wei Ying’s lungs and opens him up. He feels it mix with the smoke in his blood, relaxing him further and he spreads himself out -- arms wide, legs flat -- on the red cedar slats. 

It’s a moment before anyone speaks. Each of them taking time to let the heat soak into their skin. But it’s Nie Huaisang who breaks the silence. 

“Dude.”

“I know,” says Wei Ying, because he does. 

“Dude,” says Nie Huaisang again, because it bears repeating. 

“I knowwww.”

Wen Ning, catching on, says, “So are you and Mr. Lan like…”

“Nooooo.”

“That’s why he’s,” Nie Huaisang gestures vaguely to all of him, “like this, Wen Ning.”

“Rude.”

“Oh,” says Wen Ning. “Why not?”

Wei Ying sits up and shakes his head. “We can’t,” he says. 

“Why?”

“Reasons?” Wei Ying drops his forehead into his hands. “I know there are reasons. Lan Zhan doesn’t want to. That’s a reason.”

That has Nie Huaisang sitting up, too. “What the fuck do you mean he doesn’t want to? I was in that hot tub.”

Wen Ning nods at both of them and Wei Ying sighs. It’s not like they’re wrong. 

He says, a bit petulantly, “No. He wants to. But he has reasons. So he doesn’t want to.”

“So are you, like, waiting?” asks Wen Ning. 

“Yes. And I hate it. But, fuck, Huaisang. Look at him. He’s perfect.”

Nie Huaisang rocks his head back and forth, considering, “For you, sure.”

“Yes for me. Me. Mine. He’s -- fuck!” 

Wei Ying sprawls out on the bench again, tired and frustrated. He knows he can be better about this. About the waiting. It’s just been A Night and all he wants is to tuck his head into Lan Zhan’s neck and be held. 

Well, that’s not all he wants. But it would be enough. It would be so good and so easy and Wei Ying knows that Lan Zhan has reasons and they’re probably even good reasons but he’s finding it so hard to care tonight. 

He climbs up onto the high bench and stares up at the ceiling long after Nie Huaisang and Wen Ning have left. He lays down and lets his leg dangle off the side. The towel around his waist is rough against his skin and he focuses on that feeling. Lets his mind wander a little. Lets his high settle out his mood. 

It’s easy to imagine a different ending to the night. A different night entirely. A night where Wei Ying teaches Lan Zhan about shotgunning. Where Lan Zhan is casual with his touches, like he was when he was drunk. 

But that’s not fair. None of it is fair, but Lan Zhan’s reasons are his own and Wei Ying needs to respect them. Maybe he’ll be better about it tomorrow. Tonight is already lost. 

He finally rolls off the high, red cedar slats, legs surprisingly steady for how much his mind is still spinning. He rewraps his towel tighter around his hips and moves toward the door, only for it to open into him and knock him entirely off balance. Before he can hit the floor, strong arms curl around his waist and haul him upright against a broad chest. 

Lan Zhan’s breath is cold against Wei Ying’s overhot skin. He wonders if Lan Zhan jumped back into the swimming pool. To calm down. Or something. 

Wei Ying steps back, valiantly pulling himself away from Lan Zhan’s arms. Those arms. He fixes his eyes to Lan Zhan’s face, like he’s not the most beautiful man Wei Ying has ever seen, and forces a laugh. 

“We’re just one convenient towel slip away from the start of a bad porno.”

Almost immediately, Lan Zhan’s fingers find the roll holding Wei Ying’s towel on his hips. Wei Ying isn’t sure if they’re there to secure or remove. They don’t seem to have decided either. 

He can feel Lan Zhan’s knuckles brushing against his hip bone and nothing else exists. It’s just the places where they’re touching. He’s not even sure the rest of his body is real. How can it be real if Lan Zhan isn’t touching it?

“You think it would be bad?” Lan Zhan’s voice is steady and calm, that gorgeous baritone that Wei Ying wants to hear broken and moaning. 

“What?” asks Wei Ying. He has completely lost the thread. He has no idea what Lan Zhan is asking him. 

“Our porn,” says Lan Zhan simply, voice low, like he knows what he’s doing. 

“Our…” Wei Ying scoffs to keep from screaming, “Lan Zhan, we’re in a sauna. The lenses would all steam up. It would be terrible.”

“Hm.” Lan Zhan nods, “Production quality would be difficult to maintain.”

“Plus, this plot? Not the best, I gotta say.” Wei Ying tries to keep the frustration from his voice. He’s not sure how successful he is, but Lan Zhan doesn’t choose to acknowledge it. 

“You don’t like delayed gratification?” he asks, keeping the tone heated and flirtatious. 

“I like shorter time scales.”

Lan Zhan hums dismissively then says, “Stamina not up to the task?”

Wei Ying laughs at that. He laughs because he can’t do anything else, like shove Lan Zhan back into the door and stick his tongue down Lan Zhan’s throat. 

“You’re so mean,” he says, and, “Why is that hot?”

“Hm.” Smug. He’s so smug. 

He’s hot and mean and smug and Wei Ying is dying a little bit. He’s too good. He’s too much. He’s… he’s fucking ascetic is what he is. Too serene and disciplined. Wei Ying wants to push him to see what happens when that discipline is tested. Wants to feel it on his skin, under his tongue. He’s sure that Lan Zhan is just as attentive to his partners as he is to his own rigorous strictures. He probably does yoga. 

Fuck!

Wei Ying meets the heat Lan Zhan’s eyes and he can’t fucking stand it. 

“So are you going to rip my towel off and bend me over the benches or are you sticking with ‘delayed gratification?’”

Lan Zhan’s fingers tense, knuckles digging into Wei Ying’s hip as they grip the towel. The tension in the cotton, a circle that tightens like a zip tie, pulls Wei Ying even closer to Lan Zhan. The steam is cool on his skin as the sauna boils the water off Lan Zhan’s body.  

He can feel the decision as it’s made. It solidifies in Lan Zhan’s eyes and Wei Ying wants to scream his frustration like the juniors do. He’s not six, so he doesn’t. He sighs as Lan Zhan releases him. It’s not mean or even angry, just resigned. This whole thing is stupid. But it’s important to Lan Zhan, so Wei Ying will respect it, even if he hates it. 

Wei Ying clears his throat and nods to Lan Zhan, head down, avoiding his eyes, as he moves past him, through the door and into the locker room. 

He bypasses his locker and heads straight to the shower stalls. He drops his towel and steps into the shower and turns it as cold as he can stand it. It doesn’t really help. He can feel the ghost of Lan Zhan’s hands on his hips, Lan Zhan’s breath on his shoulder. He drops his forehead against the tile and wills himself not to get hard in a locker room shower while his friends and coworkers are still getting dressed around him. It works… enough. 

.

Wei Ying as he smacks his head against the shower walls: “Maybe Hell is just a sauna.” [x]