#needs to be attacked for it to feel anything

[keferon]

Chapter 3 of Blurr’s storyline in Mecha AU!

Previous chapter

“Speaking of Mechs.” continues Blurr, ”That thing's evacuation system sucks. What if you were stunned by the fall? What if something short-circuits and starts a fire???”

Swindle just clenches the glass in his hands. Feels the cold moisture of condensation dripping down onto his fingers.

“Then I'd burn.” he doesn't say

Under the cut⤵️

——————————————————

It's Swindle's birthday.

He thinks it is.

He's pretty sure.

Since he was taken into the program, it's always hard to tell. It's like time flows differently here. He had a calendar, but Brawl put it somewhere a while ago and then forgot where it was. And they're not allowed to have phones yet. Though Swindle assumes Onslaught managed to steal one from someone anyway.

Shit. Where's the calendar?

Swindle remembers the date, but can't remember the month.

There's a strange static tingling sensation in the back of his head. If he turns his head too fast, it'll grow into an unpleasant pricking pain.

The last time in the lab was disgusting.

He can't remember what month it is. He's not even sure why it bothers him so much. Not that birthdays mean anything within the walls of the program.

He stops in the middle of the living room and looks around with a meticulous eye. He's already checked the beds, desk, and nightstands...hah.

“Hey have any of you seen my calendar?”

Vortex, sitting on top of the bunk bed shakes the ash off his cigarette right down into Blast Off's lap.

“Nope.”

“TEX YOU'RE LITTERING ON MY BED.”

“I could have ..torn it up” offers Brawl from across the room.

Swindle turns on his heels and angrily rests his arms at his sides.

“You tore it?”

“I might have,” Brawl scratches the back of his head.

Swindle pinches the bridge of his nose

That's fine. Not that he cares that much. Not that any celebration at all would save the crappy day.

He has some new “experimental” medical procedure scheduled for later, which generally means suffering. Or if he's lucky, some critter will attack the city and instead of squirming on the slab, he'll have to go cuddle with huge nasty beasts. Which is slightly better than the actual procedures. He'd like that to happen. If only his head would also stop buzzing....

“Happy birthday to me” Swindle thinks, sticking his Mech hand under the plates of a particularly ugly monster and pulling something disgustingly oozing green blood out of there. He can see the faces of the random gawkers who didn't have time to evacuate. Ooh, some of them got that nasty stuff on their faces. Swindle has no time to feel sorry for them.

The monster did attack, but it's entirely possible that this monster ended the last meager supply of luck Swindle had. Because somewhere. Something. In his head begins to hurt again and the world in front of his eyes begins to slowly blur and..

ahh FUCK….

The monster grabs him knocks him to the ground and Swindle can literally feel in his bones that something's wrong, but the data from his Mech doesn't give him any useful information. Which isn't that uncommon. These things are glitchy as hell and aren't designed to recognize anything but the most basic popular malfunctions.

The word “error” shines mockingly in his face. Blurring in his eyes and reflecting in red on his uniform.

Error, error, what the hell is this error. He needs to know what's wrong so he doesn't accidentally kill himself, but all this bucket offers him is oops. You're in trouble teeheee~

He can hear the sound of Blast Off's giant cannon in the distance. And the loud rumble where Vortex and Onslaught are trying to get out of the ring of monsters.

His Mech is unresponsive. His damn machine refuses to move and Swindle isn't quite sure if it's the Mech that's the problem, because his head feels like a piece of raw rotten meat and maybe the error meant that what's broken is him.

The monster leans over him, trying to rip off whatever it can rip off and thank god this thing apparently isn't smart enough to realize that the Mech is controlled from the head because it's aiming straight for his chest.

He needs to get out. If he can't get this thing to move, he needs to get the fuck out of it before the alien gets him.

He manages to open the emergency hatch and quietly slip out and ohhhh the world is spinning, this is not bloody good.

He manages to take a few steps before a loud B A N G comes from somewhere above and IS THAT A TRAIN???? Who in their right mind would think of using a fucking train as a throwing weapon???? Is that Brawl? It's got to be Brawl. Oh, Swindle is so gonna kill him.

Because (sadly) in addition to the monster, the train and Swindle, there's also physics involved in this circus.

So while the monster is effectively brought to rest and knocked sideways with a hole in it’s head, the train stops its forward motion and starts its downward motion.

Right onto Swindle's head.

He just has time to think that dying from a train falling out of the sky is a pretty creative death. His legs are shaking, his head is buzzing and he only manages to take half a sluggish step in an attempt to avoid the inevitable when a loud “MOVE” comes to his ears and something yanks him to the side.

The tug sends fire down his spine and head. The ensuing landing reverberates with pain in his shoulder and sides. He barely has time to process the first two sensations until a moment later he hears a rumble so deafening that he thinks his eardrums are about to burst.

Swindle props himself up on his elbows and hisses in pain as the movement causes the back of his head to sting.

“Ah I'll fuckin' kill him...”

A voice comes above him

“Ouw dude. You okay?”

There's.. Some teenager hovering over him. And behind him is lying...the wrecked train...right where Swindle himself was standing a second ago.

The strange teen frowns worriedly and pulls Swindle upright and drags him somewhere else

“Come on, it's best not to be in the open during monster attacks”

“Ah” thinks Swindle ”right. Without Mech you're a pathetic tiny piece of chop begging to be stomped on by Brawl.”

He tries to focus on balance so he doesn't hang too much on this kid.

They find the nearest unlocked door, which turns out to be the entrance to an underground bar.

“So” says the stranger, letting go of Swindle and shaking the dust off his hair ” You're a pilot! That's so cool, but you're kinda small for a pilot.”

Swindle sighs sullenly.

“I'll let you have that one comment about my height because you helped me, but next time you're dead.”

“Helped? I saved your ass.”

“Helped a lot” says Swindle grudgingly. “Thanks.”

The teen laughs and climbs into the bar. It's a mess everywhere, people clearly evacuated in a hurry and threw everything in haste.

“What's your name? Oh, or, wait. Do you guys use code names? I've heard pilots call each other by call signs, but half the time those call signs sound so dumb, I don't see how they can respond to that.”

He waits for the kid to cut off his flow of words to take a breath. Man, what a chatty boy.

“You can call me Swindle.”

“Kay” the kid pulls out a couple glasses ”I'm Blurr. Would you like something Swindle? I don't mean to brag, but I'm pretty good at mixing cocktails.”

Swindle looks around the room suspiciously. The bar, even though it's underground, looks pretty good. Too good, in fact. The place is clearly not for the poor.

He walks over to the bar and climbs onto a bar stool. There's no one else in here but them, but the electricity is on so he doesn't doubt for a second that they're being filmed by a security camera right now. Maybe a few even.

Blurr throws him an expectant look.

Swindle pretends to go through his pockets. As if there could be money in them out of nowhere. Then he makes a comically confused face and spreads his hands.

“Oh, no, I think I left my millions at home. What's the cheapest thing you have?”

Blurr snorts.

“Ice is free.”

“I'll take the ice then” nods Swindle.

There is a loud rumbling sound above them. It must be Vortex having fun again bouncing on the aliens that have fallen to the ground, crushing their heads.

Swindle is just. He takes off his helmet, takes a glass of ice and presses it to his head enjoying the way the nasty buzzing recedes.

Blurr waits for the rumbling to recede before speaking again.

“But really. You're a pilot but...uh. Are you even old enough to drink?”

Swindle sends him his best grumpy look. It's not exactly a joke about his height, but it's damn close.

“Are you old enough to pour?”

“Sure,” says Blurr too fast for it to be true. If Swindle had to guess, he'd say the guy in front of him is no older than seventeen. The tattered jeans and the T-shirt with the F1 logo printed on it definitely don't help. And, hey, those headphones look very expensive. So do the sneakers. Kid's clearly from a wealthy family.

Blurr pulls out a bottle of syrup from somewhere and pours it straight into his mouth. Doesn't miss, which is amusing. Doesn't wince, which is frankly impressive. Swindle feels the unbearable sweetness just looking at him.

It suddenly hits him

“Hey, do you have a phone?”

“Sure,” Blurr pours himself more syrup. Swindle twitches.

“What's the day today?”

Blurr's mouth is full of an unimaginable amount of sugar, so he just pulls out his phone and turns its screen toward Swindle and oh...oh. He was wrong about the date. And the month, too. It's not his birthday. His birthday was a week ago...

Does that mean he must be nineteen now? Yeah, that makes him nineteen.

Blurr takes the phone back and slips it into his pocket.

“Your face looks funny.”

“I just realized it's my birthday today,” smiles Swindle.

“Oooooooohh~~~” rejoices Blurr ”Congratulations! It's kind of poetic that you almost died just today. Can you imagine how funny the numbers on your tombstone would have looked.”

Swindle chokes on air.

“That's certainly a very appropriate comment, thank you...”

“Sorry haha said without thinking.” Blurr reaches under the counter again and pulls out a bottle from there “Hey, they have more syrups!”

There's another loud rumble from upstairs.

Blurr presses his head into his shoulders and stares up at the ceiling as if hoping to see something through it.

Swindle puts his elbows and head on the tabletop

“Don't worry, it's just Brawl.”

Blurr doesn't take his eyes off the ceiling

“ You can tell that by the sound of falling concrete?”

Swindle lazily dangles his feet. The chair is high and even the toes of his shoes don't reach the floor.

“Brawl is the loudest. And the heaviest, too. He's always crashing into everything, throwing things and breaking things too. You can hear him a mile away.”

He pauses to listen

“And that kch-ooooooooomm is Blast Off's cannon. It's some super rare experimentally advanced one, so it sounds like something out of a space movie. He couldn't stop bragging about it for half a year when he got it.”

Blurr chuckles and leans his elbows on the counter, relaxing.

“ And this...uh...what's this?”

“That's Vortex, he's our local lunatic. Best not to listen too much to what he does, it's almost always disgusting in ways you would never even consider.”

Blurr makes a disgruntled face and is silent for a couple minutes.

“It's weird hearing you call them by their names. I mean, I kind of always knew Mechs were run by people but you guys are never seen, so most of the time it's just.. Huge robots and huge monsters. You know what I mean. I was actually surprised when I saw you get out of that Mech.”

Swindle just nods. Because, what else is there to add.

“Speaking of Mechs.” continues Blurr, ”That thing's evacuation system sucks. What if you were stunned by the fall? What if something short-circuits and starts a fire???”.

Swindle just clenches the glass in his hands. Feels the cold moisture of condensation dripping down onto his fingers

“Then I'd burn.” he doesn't say

Blurr doesn't seem to notice his glum mood

“Oh, hey. If it's no secret, why did you go into piloting in the first place?”

Because he had no choice? He can't answer that, that information isn't for civilians.

Because he didn't know what he was getting into until it was too late? That's not vague enough either.

Because he was up to his neck in debt and barely into college before a smiling man showed up on his doorstep and offered him good money if he agreed to a couple tests...?

“I had to do it for the people.” Swindle decides to repeat a line of propaganda.

“Ohhhh.... That's...a good reason. The monsters are disgusting, of course. But the reason is cool.”

Swindle just. Holds his glass of melting ice, listens to Blurr's mutterings, and enjoys the peace. This random teenager is not his superior or colleague and has nothing to do with the organization at all. Swindle doesn't have to remember to salute or follow orders or fear being reported to his superiors.

He can just. Be.

Just him and his free ice and his saved for free life.

That's. Sweet.

Blurr's drinking syrup again.

...and a little disgusting.

—————————-

Brawl jumps out of bed, hits his head on a shelf hanging on the wall and drops everything on it onto Blast Off's head

“Swindle!!!” yells Brawl.

“Why are these books sticky???” shrieks Blast Off.

“You don't wanna know~” giggles Vortex.

Swindle sighs.

“You're alive!!!” ignores Blast Off Brawl's complaints. And a second later runs up and pulls Swindle off the floor in a crushing bear hug.

Behind them, Blast Off, with his face wrinkled in disgust, gathers all the dropped books back onto the shelf.

Swindle wheezes pathetically and slaps Brawl's arm with his palm, either to reciprocate the gesture or to beg for mercy

“Br...khaaaaah...Brawl I can't breathh.”

“OH. I'm uh. Here. Wait.”

Brawl puts him back on the floor and runs back to the shelf.

Onslaught, who has peeked into the room, puts a hand on Swindle's shoulder

“You've been gone a long time. Boss said you tried to escape.”

His tone isn't judgmental. And not pressuring. Not even questioning, but Swindle knows Onslaught wants more information. Swindle clutches a piece of napkin with a phone number in his pocket and smiles weakly.

“I've found a...friend? I think?”

Onslaught nods. In a manner that only he knows how to do. Not giving an opinion, not encouraging or condemning. Just taking in the information. Swindle admires him for that.

Behind them, Brawl pulls some piece of paper out from under the books that have just been put away and drops them again

“FUCK!” yells Blast Off. Vortex just starts hooting like a hyena.

“Hey Swindle I found the calendar!” yells Brawl waving the paper.

Swindle frowns in surprise.

“It's a different calendar...”

“I found you a new one.” nods Brawl.

“...Why...is it...it's torn in half?”

“It had stupid flowers drawn on it, so I ripped them off. And I accidentally ripped off more than I needed.”

“Ah,” says Swindle, clutching the calendar, ”That's...Thanks. I forgive you for losing the previous one.”

Behind them, Blast Off is trying to strangle Vortex with a jacket.

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

Blurr waves his arms happily like a hyperactive windmill.

“Swindle!!!”

Swindle smiles and adjusts his glasses

“Your party can be seen from across city.”

“I know~~” primps Blurr “Are you hungry? There was a snack table around here somewhere.”

“I didn't bring any money.” lies Swindle.

“Hey man, it's a party. Help yourself, it's free.”

“Оh.” Swindle's mood instantly brightens. “All right, then.”

“You look terrible” Blurr decides to share.

Swindle, busy shoveling food into his pockets, nods.

“I've had a rough week. Actually, it'd be cool if you didn't tell anyone you saw me here. I'm kind of not supposed to be here.”

He doesn't elaborate.

Blurr is a civilian. In his mind, a rough week is rude people or an exam or bad weather. Swindle's bad week is strap marks on his wrists and double vision. It's nausea from injections and sleepless nights because Vortex won't stop screaming in his sleep.

Blurr doesn't know that. With him, Swindle can pretend to be somewhat normal.

-----------

“Heeeeey“ says Blurr ‘I haven't seen you in a long time~"

“That” thinks Swindle ”is a pretty standard phrase for both of them.

Blurr looks older. Taller too. He was taller than Swindle before, but now that difference is starting to look almost comical. He's also flaunting a cast on his arm.

“Did you get hurt?”

“Didn't make a turn at training” waves Blurr off “It's no big deal. Wanna go find something to eat?”

Blurr is always trying to feed him, Swindle notices over time. Offers him drinks or snacks or whatever.

“ I like your uh..cap?”

“I got a promotion” Swindle smiles proudly “Me and the guys were made a special group...actually you're not allowed to know more than that, so you'll have to take my word for it when I say we are officially cool.”

He purposely adjusts his cap by the brim so Blurr can get a good look at it.

Blurr makes a delighted sound. Something between a “wow” and a giggle. He generally makes a lot of sounds all the time. Tapping his fingers on every hard surface, stomping in place like he's always late for something, laughing, whistling, clicking his tongue. A human orchestra.

__________

Onslaught sits down next to Swindle and clutches his hands in his lap in front of him. This makes the bed legs squeak pitifully. Onslaught has grown surprisingly large. He can almost rival Brawl in height already. Most people find that intimidating, but Swindle just thinks Onslaught is like a wall. A big, solid concrete wall that's so good to hide behind.

“Be careful with what you tell this guy.”

“Don't worry” says Swindle ”He's not the type of friend you tell secrets to. He's just a fun dude who's great to hang out with.”

Onslaught hums.

“And who feeds you for free.”

“If that's how you're trying to ask me to share, you're not doing a very good job.”

Vortex snaps his fingers as he walks past them

“Hey Swindler, the lab is closed for today. It's your day off.”

“Wha...”

Onslaught tilts his head.

“Vortex. What did you do?”

“I spat in their dna sample vault” proudly proclaims Vortex “and didn't tell them exactly where.”

-----———————-

Blurr frowns.

“Hey...are you okay?”

“No” thinks Swindle.

“My friend died” he says instead.

He's not okay. He feels like an animal caught in a beartrap, trying to chew off its own paw to get free.

Except the trap is closed around Swindle's head and it's not a body part he can afford to lose.

There's been a lot of talk. Even more rumors. Swindle listened but tried not to believe.

And then one of pilots, Shockwave… was taken to the lab and brought back a different damn man and it felt like Swindle had the rug pulled out from under his feet with hot coals underneath.

Because Swindle's boss, with his stupid, rehearsed smile, started writing reports about how “human personality flaws are something that can be fixed. That challenging behavior is something that can be repaired with tools.

Blurr freezes.

“Who?”

“Vortex.”

Because of course it's Vortex. Talented but difficult to handle. Powerful but uncontrollable.

They wanted a pilot who would be a beast on the battlefield and a loyal dog on base. And who else would be a more ideal test subject than him?

Vortex was being very rude that day, even by Vortex standards. Yelling and swearing and throwing things around. Kept saying that no shitty lab could make him “a fucking puppet.”

Scratching the stitches on his head until he started leaving a trail of blood behind him.

He went on a mission.

And never came back.

The reports said it was all the monsters' fault. That Vortex was unstable. That the accident had nothing to do with the new technology. But it was nevertheless suspended.

Swindle is both bitter and amused by this. Vortex would eat the same monsters for breakfast any other day. The bastard was unkillable.

“Oh my god” says Blurr “I'm so sorry to hear that.”

He says something else. Probably comforting. About how Vortex died protecting people, maybe. About Vortex being a hero.

“Vortex,” thinks Swindle, ”loved life. He loved adrenaline and danger and pain and thrill and fear, but he never wanted to die. They did something to him. Something that made him go over the edge.”

Vortex got his head in the trap and ripped it off to escape it.

Swindle knows him and the others are next. And knows that no one but themselves can help them.

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

Blast Off seems...very quiet. He could never stop complaining about Vortex before. Yelling about the garbage. Resenting the unmade bed and the cigarette ashes.

Vortex's bed remains unmade.

Blast Off regularly cleans everything up, but never wipes away the little circles of ash from the places where Vortex used to put out cigarettes on the furniture.

Onslaught puts his hand on Swindle's shoulder and squeezes. Not hard. Just enough for Swindle to register the gesture as important.

Standing nearby, Blast Off lights a cigarette and leans on Onslaught.

“Ons told me about your plan. I want to join in.”

“What kind of plan? Can I get involved?” inquires Brawl.

Onslaught sighs.

“Repeat after me - I don't know, they don't tell me anything.”

“I don't know, they don't tell me anything.”

“Good job” nods Onslaught “From now on, every time they ask you any - listen. Any! Question about us, you will answer them with this phrase.”

“Got it,” grins Brawl.

Swindle smiles.

“Gentlemen, it's time to violate all that is written, and rewrite all that is violated.”

__________________

Blurr lazily takes his eyes off the phone. He's wearing a racing suit and tons of hairspray. He's shiny and gleaming like a fine collectible figurine that should be on the shelf of an expensive exhibit. He's also bored.

“Sorry buddy, the interview is long over, if you have any questions you'll have to pay for the session.”

Swindle smiles.

“How about one tiny little question?”

Blurr makes funny big eyes.

“SWINDLE!!! I haven't seen you in a thousand years! You...oh I didn't recognize you haha sorry. Nice coat. You quit being a pilot?”

Swindle proudly adjusts his glasses. He's wearing a brand-new, ironed shirt that's exactly his size. Nice neat tie, expensive coat. Swindle isn't surprised Blurr didn't recognize him immediately. Sometimes he looks in the mirror and doesn't recognize himself. After all those years of wearing the pilot's uniform, he felt almost attached to it. And yet here he is.

“You could say I moved.” he winks snarkily, “Up. All the Mechs you see on the streets now are my Mechs~”

Blurr completely forgets about his phone.

“REALLY?? Oh man congrats to you!”

“Thanks” nods Swindle ”You want something to drink? I'm buying.”

———————-

Onslaught adjusts his tie. It's still, years later, a little strange to see him in a uniform instead of a pilot's suit.

“You do realize it's going to be hard to find a person like that, right? We need someone famous enough to be effective and dumb enough to want to save mankind instead of sunbathing on a yacht.”

Swindle adjusts his glasses and leans back in his chair.

Someone outgoing so they can quickly befriend all the right people. Handsome enough to have their face printed on a poster. Smart just enough not to say too much. And not associated with Mecha program so they can't be accused of trying to get promoted through their acquaintances.

Someone who already has everything but still willing to put themselves at risk for the cause.

“You know, I think I have a possible candidate.”

[iwillhissatyou]

For fucking real, I HAD PANIC ATTACKS BECAUSE OF THIS. Though to be fair I was also in a place where everyone expected you to be immediately better at everything than the average kid at that age, no thank you I already had ✨T R A U M A✨ from feeling responsible for the actions of my younger sibling. All caused by the fact that my dad near constantly guilt-tripped me making me feel useless if I didn't want to help(I still have an issue with needing to not be a burden every time I visit a friend or participate in anything).

...

I apologize for ranting at the internet.

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

Unsteady

You get hit on patrol. You go down hard. What happens after is a blur, but what you do know, is that you were never scared for a moment. ~ 2k words

A/N: I wanted to try a new format for my fics, so pictures! I'm not sure how I feel about it yet, tho, so I might change it again

Being a vigilante in Gotham has never been easy. Between the bullet wounds, secret societies, and their attempted brainwashing tactics, and the more than a little tricky partnerships you have to navigate, sometimes you wonder how you've managed to make it for so long.

Don't get it wrong, saving people, taking out criminals, making the streets a little bit safer, you thrive on it. You live for the moments where you feel invincible, shouting awful quips back and forth with whoever you're patrolling with. The seconds where a civilian grabs your hand, smiling and alive and relieved by how easily you've taken down their attackers.

You do good in Gotham, a city that always seems to lack it. And, even if there are dangers that come with it, you've never really minded the risk. At least, not since you've started patrolling with Red Hood.

You're not exactly sure how it started. One day, you spent your nights alone more often than not, and then one day, you didn't. You think it might have been the Falcone bust you worked on together, or maybe it was the trauma bonding over getting trapped and tangled in Ivy's latest strain of living, grabby plant traps together.

Whatever it was, more nights than not, Red Hood lingers at your side while you traverse rooftops, and you've found a routine in following him on his own patrols through Crime Alley and The Hill. What started as a tentative trust quickly built to a steady partnership.

You know which ankle he tends to roll if he lands on the pavement wrong. He knows which shoulder you tend to favor when Gotham gets cold. You know his favorite street food vendor and order by heart. He knows what safehouses you stash your preferred drinks and snacks in– and how often they need to be resupplied.

You both keep each other from being too reckless, and honestly, you don't think either of you have ever really had that. It's not either of you have stopped throwing yourself into fights where you're outnumbered (but never out matched), it's just that you're not alone doing it.

Red Hood– Jason– has your back the same way you have his. And it makes Gotham a little less terrifying. It makes patrol– the idea that one day a simple mistake could mean you don't come home– a little less burdensome.

You knew you relied on him, maybe a little too much if you thought too hard about it. You just didn't realize how much space you made for him until it was pointed out to you. Nightwing makes note of it first, teasing you for having an entire pouch on your utility belt dedicated to extra ammo magazines for Red Hood's gun. Robin notices it next, admonishing you for not checking your six during a fight, even if Jason was covering you.

You'd be embarrassed if Red Hood didn't have the same amount of faith in you as you did in him. He trusts you to take point on missions, believes you when you offer him tips and whispers of cases he's working on.

You try not to read too far into it, but how could you feel anything but special when he so willingly lets you wander Crime Alley at his side, and rarely anyone else? When he calls you his partner? Calls dibs on patrolling with you? How could you not revel in the fact that someone so big and capable and sure in himself relies on you?

But for all the trust and skill that exists between you and Red Hood, sometimes you get unlucky. Sometimes, all it takes is one misstep, one slow reaction, for it all to go wrong.

It was supposed to be easy, routine. Just a small group of thugs trying to break their way into the back alley entrance of a jewelry store. It was supposed to be simple– you were even having fun, holding back laughter at how quickly they seemed to fall to the ground with each well aimed kick and jab.

With Red Hood taking one end of the alley and you the other, you thought you had them surrounded, you didn't even consider that there were more people around the corner.

You didn't hear them come up behind you– more preoccupied with dodging a punch to your throat– when a loud crack sounds through the alley. You drop to your knees– ears ringing, bile rising in your throat, vision swimming.

The back of your head aches, and you know you're in danger, likely concussed. But you don't know what happened– was it a pipe? A bat? You know you need to move, but you can't get your body to listen, can't get yourself off of the ground as the world seems to tip and fade in and out as you heave.

You wait for the next hit, another burst of pain, but it never comes. There's shouting– gunshots maybe, you can't focus on it. You force your gaze up, and the colors and figures seem to blur into one nauseating sight.

You think you make out Red Hood, slamming one of the men into the ground. It's hard to process anything– to understand what you're seeing. Red Hood lurches towards you, or maybe he's just moving onto the next goon. Maybe he doesn't even know you're down.

You can't tell and maybe you should be scared. All it would take is one well aimed bullet to change everything. But you're not afraid. Even as black dots dance in your vision, even as your stomach churns and the noises that fill the alley seem pitched and garbled in your ears, you know that Red Hood will not let you die.

You think you see someone raising a bat to strike at you. You want to block, defend yourself, but your body feels too heavy to move. You squeeze your eyes shut instead, trying to quell the bile in your throat as you curl your fingers into fists, desperately trying to stop shaking, to ward off the cold sweats and pain that seem to be radiating on every inch of your skin.

You wait for the inevitable strike that will knock you clean into unconsciousness, but it still doesn't come. You lean forward, gasping for air as another wave of dizziness hits you, when gentle hands grab your shoulders, guiding you to straighten out again.

"Hey, hey," the familiar robotic voice washes over you, steady, if not a little anxious to the trained ear, "I've got you, open your eyes for me, sweet thing. Lemme see you."

You do, unable to do anything but listen. Bodies lay crumpled around you in the alley. You don't quite understand how he got to you so fast. He was on the other side of the alley, nearly a dozen men between the two of you, and it feels like he fought his way to your side within seconds. Maybe you had gone down longer– and harder– then you realized.

"There you are," He murmurs, carefully tilting your chin up to examine your face, he watches you for a moment, the way your breath doesn't quite seem to find a regular rhythm. He brushes his fingers over the back of your head next, feeling for any fractures in your skull.

He lets out a sigh of relief when he finds none, "Looks like it's just a concussion, some bruising. We'll get you back to the cave, make sure you're not bleeding, alright?"

You want to nod, but you think if you moved right now you think you'd throw up into his lap. Which would be mortifying. You also might be incredibly distracted by how close he is. It's not every day you get to admire the way his hair peeks out from under his hood, the set of his broad shoulders, the way the whites of his mask seem to glow in the shadows of the alley.

He's incredibly handsome in the Gotham moonlight.

And then he laughs, lowering his hand from the back of your head, "Thanks, doll. Think you can stand up on your own?"

Oh. Did you say that out loud? You didn't mean to. You furrow your eyebrows, trying to get the words you actually want to say off of your tongue, "M'fine," you mumble, narrowing your eyes in an attempt to get your world to stop spinning for a moment, to try and find your balance.

"You're slurring your words," he points out, hands finding your shoulders again as you pitch slightly to the side, "How's your head?"

"Hurts," You admit, giving up on your attempt to stand. You choose to admire him instead, the curve of his throat, the tilt of his jaw towards you.

"I bet," He mumbles, before falling silent, letting the moment linger just long enough for you to start to relax, lulled into a daze by your dizziness. "I'm going to carry you," he decides.

You don't get to protest, as if you're in the state to. He just maneuvers himself to your side, gently hooking one arm around your back, and the other under your knees to lift you to his chest.

A new wave of nausea runs down your spine, and you tuck your head into his shoulder, fingers curling against the red bat engraved into his armor, "Sorry" Jason mumbles, going still as he waits for your dizzy spell to pass, "Guess he got you good, huh?"

"Was my fault," you sigh out, closing your eyes as you nuzzle closer into the comfort of the crook of his neck, "Got complacent." It takes you longer than it should have to sound your syllables out, even longer to unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth, but you think you manage to sound at least slightly coherent.

"Nah, sweetheart, it was mine," He lowers his voice even more as he talks, careful not to make your head ring anymore than it already is, to not jostle your injuries (and brain) and more than they already have, "I should have seen him. Should have warned you," he tells you, slowly and methodically carrying you out of the alley, away from the carnage he created.

If your eyes were open, you'd see exactly how driven he was to get to you– how he left bodies broken and mangled in his one purpose of protecting you. Instead, all you notice is the familiar smell of leather and gunpowder radiating from him.

You shake your head, "Red–" You cut off your own words with a wince, hiding your face deeper into his neck as your whole body seems to pound with pain. You really just want to tug his mask off, to listen to the way his voice dips to a soothing tenor without the modulator, to watch the way his eyes linger on your face, but you're quick to push the notion away, to blame it on your jumbled thoughts.

You suck in a breath as the nausea passes, "You're not responsible for my mistakes." You sound weaker than you mean to, words more slurred than you'd like, but you hope you get your point across.

His breathing seems to stutter in his chest for a moment, and his fingers dip a little tighter into divots of your amour, "Feels like it, though. I hate seeing you get hurt like this."

The confession should be heavy, but it just makes heat bloom straight from your heart, makes you lightheaded in all the best ways. You don't hide the smile that threatens to take over your face, "Yeah. Me too. About you, I mean." You hope that he understands, even if your words aren't as poetic or eloquent as you want them to be, you hope he knows what you're trying to say.

The tension seems to drain from his body at your words, and he lowers his head to press his mask to the top of your head, the mirror of a kiss. Both of you go quiet, basking in each other's touch– the rise and fall of your chest– alive– as your pain finally fades into a dull ache.

Later, you'll protest being taken off of patrol for two weeks. Later, you'll complain that Jason gets to take out the Two-Face shipment you've been planning for weeks. But for now, he's warm. He's holding you close. And there's nowhere safer for you than his arms.

[zaine-m]

Thinking about Silco in the au having flashbacks to Vander drowning him and Vander trying to comfort him just like he used to comfort Silco when they were young but now Vander is the thing Silco is scared of and the more Vander tries to hold him, to reassure him that everything is okay the more Silco feels him overpowering him, suffocating him until Benzo has to peel Vander off of Silco and bring him into a different room to let the panic attack run it's course.

Vander would feel so bad after for making things worse and for being stupid enough to think that he would be anything but intimidating to Silco after every that happened. Silco would reassure him that he has forgiven him even if he hasn't fully healed and Vander would say that he doesn't need Silco to be healed now and that he can take as much time and space as he needs.

[captain-huggy-bear]

Squish Time

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Anxiety, panic attacks, mental health

Summary: Sometimes there is only one way to regulate your nervous system and that is squish time.

Notes: In honour of my anxiety disorder and the fact that sometimes I just want a hockey player to squish me into a mattress to help my brain regulate itself. 👍

2 fics in one day? More likely than you think.

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

You've had anxiety for as long as you can remember, more of your life had been spent worrying about seemingly silly little things, adrenaline buzzing through your system, than not. It's something you've learnt to deal with and over the years, the work you've put in has made it less of an issue. You have your mechanisms to minimise it, to cope, to enjoy your life and keep panic attacks to a minimum but that doesn't mean that they don't ever happen. Sometimes they happen without any explanation, like your body has been storing up anxiety for a random moment.

It hits you slowly, a winding sort of buzzing through your veins like a thousand bees have decided to make their way into your body and start an orchestra or brass band. It's a familiar but unpleasant sensation that has you wandering around the apartment hands tapping any surface you find in an attempt to expell the sudden burst of adrenaline.

Your heart races, palpitations that feel so strong in your chest that you're certain your heart wants to leap out of your chest and run halfway across the world. Sounds feel dull, deadened like you're underwater, a muffled sense of everything being distant, not there, not with you, taking over. Then the sick feeling hits, like you might be sick at any moment, queasiness hitting you just to add to the other issues. Despite it all, you try to manage it on your own, even knowing Quinn is a room over, you don't want to bother him. Instead you pace and pace and pace even as you struggle to breathe.

It's your pacing, the sound of your feet urgently moving back and forth, around in circles that has Quinn popping his head out of the bedroom where he'd been sorting laundry.

Green eyes assess you, trailing from head to toe. You're biting your lip so hard he's certain you're going to break skin, while your entire body is shaking as you pace, like you've drunk 4 redbulls in quick success or just run a marathon. But it's the way you cycle through various stimms, fingers tapping together in rhythm to try and ground yourself, as your chest heaves in an attempt to get more air in your lungs that really tips him off.

"You okay, baby?"

Your reaction is instant, a sharp turn towards him, eyes wide, head shaking back and forth as tears well in your eyes like you might just cry the Niagra Falls. You look so fucking fragile and he hates it more than anything.

"Okay, okay, c'mere..." He's over to you in three long strides, pulling you tight against his chest, pressing your face into him. You're shaking so hard that it feels like you're a phone on vibrate, like you might blow away in the wind.

It's not everyday you get like this, a rare occurance more so lately, but Quinn's seen it enough to know his options, the sorts of things that do and don't help. Sometimes it just takes his arms around you, a tight grip, as his hands rub paths up and down your back. Sometimes merely the sense of being held for a few moments, the smell of his cologne and the beat of his heart under your ear is enough to ground you.

He can sense that today that's not enough. The way you shake doesn't let up, not even after two minutes of him holding you, there's this calm collectedness to him that hits. A sense that there's a problem, he needs to find a solution and he needs to do so without panicking. Call it his background as a big brother or maybe just being captain of the Canucks, but he sets his own worry aside, his own panic bricked up into a little room.

"You need squish time?" Quinn's voice would be loud to anyone else, heck its loud to his own ears, but muffled to you. He knows how the panic muffles everything for you, the way sounds are quieter, duller, you've told him time and time again that you feel deaf when you're in a panic, so he forces his voice louder to accommodate.

The instant you nod your head, he's moving you to the bedroom, shoving laundry on the floor, not worrying about the mess and helping you to lie on the bed on your back. He's careful to pop pillows under your head and neck for support. There's very little preamble, no real hesitation before he's crawling all 180 pounds of himself up and over you, flopping down ontop of you like a living weighted blanket.

The first time you'd asked for squish time he'd been terrified that he'd hurt you. That you're shallow breathing would be made worse by him compressing you into the mattress, but over time he'd learnt that it was needed sometimes. There was some sort of natural reset that happened to your body when he laid on top of you, a sort of nervous system do over that helped you to ground yourself when all else failed. Squish time was like the fail safe.

For you it was grounding, all encompassing, to feel the weight of Quinn ontop of you in that moment, the way the mattress rose to meet you, the sensation of the blankets under you, his clothes atop you. The weight of him pressing down until you felt surrounded by Quinn. It helped you to calm yourself, so you were thankful in that moment for the 180 pounds of hockey player squishing you, the way your arms wrapped around his waist, the sensation of his hoodie under your fingertips. You were thankful for the way the smell of his cologne and your laundry detergent surrounded you, how you could feel your breaths pushing up against his chest, the resistance calming, the way his face pressed into the crook of your neck like he could use his entire body to shield you from the outside world.

Each breath you took underneath him helped, each moment of being squashed was grounding. You found it easier to focus on the fact you were there, you were safe, you were okay. Each moment drained the adrenaline from your system like Quinn had opened the bee hive to let the swarm of bees escape your bloodstream. Like he'd physically removed the adrenaline himself.

Quinn doesn't even consider moving until he can feel your entire body go boneless, relaxed, till your breaths are even and slow. Even then he just lifts his head to look at you, arms bracketing either side of your head.

"Better?" You look exhausted, in the way you usually do after a panic attack, the influx of adrenaline having worn off and leaving you completely drained.

"Mmm, much better, thank you." You blink at him almost sleepily, but your smile is thankful, Quinn can't help but push forward and press a lazy kiss to your cheek, still keeping most of his weight on you.

"Don't need to thank me, baby, it's what i'm here for. 'm always going to look after you." He means it. He's pretty sure he has 2 goals in life: play good hockey and look after you. The latter he hopes he does for his entire life, it never feels like a chore to help you, he enjoys doing it. He likes that he can calm you down from a panic and that he knows how to make you smile after a long day. You make him feel needed, wanted.

"Can we just lie like this for a little longer?"

"Course. No rush, baby." Quinn settles himself back down on you, face pressed into your neck as your own does the same to him. The two of you lie like that for a while, until the weight of him stops being comforting and becomes a little too claustraphobic and constricting.

[mckinlily]

So I’m a woman in STEM, and in physics specifically that has some of the worse gender ratios out of all the sciences and right there with most engineering fields that I also worked closely with. All through my undergrad, I was told I was so lucky there were “maybe up to 10?” girls in my classes, instead of being the ONLY girl in the classroom like it was for my professors.

But you see, this wasn’t because men didn’t want women in physics. They did!! It was just women were socialized differently so they didn’t end succeeding as much (if they even tried at all—a pipeline problem that was not under the physicists’ control).

There were plenty of ways this showed up, but a big one was “Oh men don’t listen to women just because they don’t talk right.” See, women phrase their thoughts and contributions with “I think” or “I feel” or “Maybe it’s…” while men will just blast you with their opinions like it’s the word of god or some shit “ACTUALLY ITS THIS WAY”. See, it’s women’s soft way of speaking that actually disempowers themselves. Men would listen to them right away if they were just assertive. Just writing this out makes me want to puke, and very early on I was calling bullshit on it. Primarily on two accounts: 1) Why is it the woman’s communication style automatically Wrong and the man’s way is Right? Why don’t we accuse men of being failed communicators because they don’t communicate like women? Especially when both styles have advantages? Why do the men get to be assumed superior? And 2) we all know the term for an assertive woman: it’s BITCH.

But even while I could see all that bullshit, I was still pulled in by the underlying premise: if you’re just good enough—if you’re smart enough, experienced enough, competent enough, and confident enough—you will be let in and treated with respect.

So I tried to be as smart and competent and infallible as possible believing that if I did that, I would earn that respect.

Until one day, I actually managed it. I became a subject matter expert at my company. I had enough knowledge and experience to stand out among everyone else. And I did it fast. I learned more and faster than my other colleagues until I was the go-to person for multiple huge projects, even being relatively young. I was more competent, more efficient, more confident—finally able to go toe-to-toe with my male colleagues, even ones with more years of experience, on their level because I got that good.

And they treated me like SHIT.

It sucked being treated like an inferior, but it was 1000 times worse when they couldn’t believe I was inferior anymore and therefore treated me like a threat. Even the other women were less eager to back me up. The antagonism, the put downs, the way they kept me out of key conversations relevant to my job, the constant lying and gaslighting, the retaliation—

Turns out, they never meant to treat women like equals. But they held that promise out like a dangling carrot, convinced no woman could *actually* match that standard. And when one did, when I beat them at it, ALLLLL the nastiness came spewing out.

And this from guys who I had previously thought if it were decently ok!

Women act the way they do because that “female socialization” isn’t anything cute or passive or harmless. It is vicious backlash whenever they don’t—often violent backlash. Women are intelligent humans with brains very competent in opportunity v risk analysis. And if you’re a woman looking to survive or just minimize self harm—you learn very quickly which behaviors will protect you and which will get you attacked.

Don’t you dare criticize women for choosing the behaviors that are least likely to make them the targets of your cruelty and violence And girls, don’t internalize this idea that women’s ways are inferior or weak. Do what you need to do, whether that’s saving your energy for what you really care about, or throwing out patriarchy’s rules and taking the lumps that come with that. There’s no right answer when the system is built so that you’re always wrong.

Women do things that make sense. Women have always been just as logical as any human when presented with the facts of their lives which they know intimately.

Was it worth it to work hard, fight hard, and stand up for myself at my job? I don’t know. It wasn’t the “feminine” thing. It didn’t succeed in granting me the respect I wanted. It made life a lot harder for me, really. But I also found out that I’m a lot stronger and more skilled than I thought I was. I learned a lot of cool science.

And I left that job. Because I could see there was no path left for me to be respected that.

TLDR: Women aren’t “assertive” because men turn into raging lunatic de-aged monsters when they are. That’s some pretty strong negative reinforcement

a lot of behaviors that get attributed to "female socialization" can be so much more easily and accurately understood as a person recognizing the power differential surrounding them and behaving sensibly in response to that.

like. does a woman politely listen to a man monologue at her because of some experience she had when she was twelve that magically cursed her to behave that way forever, or does she do it because the man has the power to hurt her and she knows it?

does a woman do all the dishes in her household because she is less capable of breaking out of a long-ago conditioned response than, like, your average trained dog, or is she doing that because she knows that all the men in the house will blame her if she doesnt and will make life worse for her if she speaks up?

maybe a lot of sexist patterns of behavior that are widely observed in society arent caused by women like, lacking willpower or backbone? maybe it is super fucking weird for supposedly feminist movements to imply this is the case when they talk about female socialization as the end all, be all of predicting human behavior?

isnt it both more useful and more respectful toward women to consider that they are perceiving their present circumstances accurately, and recognize when power is already being wielded against them, and take logical measures to deescalate and protect themselves because it works? is it not fucking clear to everybody that trans women in particular have to do this all the fucking time?

[hyunsuloves]

omg girl I'd just seen your "squid game women with a timid s/o" , could you do the same but for men? thanksss 💖

super shy.

synopsis … squid game men with a timid s/o ꨄ︎. (or a part two to this.)

pairings … myung-gi, dae-ho, jun-ho, thanos, nam-gyu, min-su x fem!reader (separately)

warnings … fem reader, non game au, some may be ooc but what else is new, i apologize for any typos !!

lovely notes … the post i did with the female characters did surprisingly well omg..

꩜ [ 857 words ]

myung-gi / player 333 is so similar yet so different from you. he’s not a candid person, but he doesn’t always keep to himself.

he tends to keep under wraps but isn’t opposed to speaking out around others.

he encourages you to speak up for yourself, though he’s joking the majority of the time. he likes to tease you way too often for comfort.

“you know you can speak up for yourself, right?” “myung-gi, leave me the hell alone.” “this is what happens when i try to help you. so ungrateful.”

he orders for the both of you, so even if you weren’t so shy, he’d take upon the task himself either way.

he makes fun of people in awkward social settings to ease your worries. he’ll whisper the dumbest jokes ever to make you feel less awkward around the large crowd of bodies.

the both of you just stay near one another while in public. there’s nothing better than the proximity of a loved one when in the worst possible social setting.

dae-ho / player 388 is your polar opposite. he’s very social, energetic, and forthright.

he’s a social butterfly wherever he goes, and you have the misfortune of constantly being dragged along.

he’s always ready to go when you are. even if he isn’t finished socializing, he’s saying his farewells as soon as you tell him that you’re ready to leave.

“hey, you ready to go?” “we’ve only been here a few hours. go have fun, baby.” “no, let’s go. i wanna go home with you.”

despite dragging you to every social event ever, he’ll speak for you without even thinking about it. even if you can speak for yourself, he talks for you. he always feels slightly guilty for dragging you out of your humble abode to accompany him to his affairs.

he speaks up for you every time, without fail. he defends you, orders your food for you, the whole deal.

jun-ho is your contrast, as he’s far from shy. he isn’t always outspoken.

while he has a more free-spoken personality than yours, he has moments when he’s just as reserved as you are.

he’s the first to your defense when he sees someone troubling you. even if you weren’t his partner, he’d rush to your defense nonetheless.

“hey, tell me if they say anything else to you.” “of course. thank you, jun-ho.”

the way this man is so protective over you is so nonsensical. he’d be defensive nonetheless, but especially with your timid nature.

thanos / player 230 couldn’t be more different from you. he’s the most eccentric and outgoing person you have ever met.

from social gatherings to parties, to any get-together he can find, you’ll find him there. of course, he drags you along to wherever he’s going.

he urges you to speak for yourself more often than not. although he doesn’t mind speaking for you, a lot of the time he’ll put you in situations in which you have no choice but to verbalize.

“señorita, learn how to speak for yourself.” “stop talking to me, su-bong.”

to no one’s surprise, he’d fight over you if needed. if you’re being targeted, he’d attack the individual without a second thought.

his favorite thing to do is fluster you. compliments upon compliments is all you hear from this man, and it’s all to see you act all diffident.

nam-gyu / player 124 is, like thanos, your polar. he’s a very extroverted person, opposite your timid demeanor.

he’s a very lax, social type of person. he likes to relax when he’s at get-togethers, similar to you.

he loves to flatter you. it’s not even to fluster you, he just wants you to be so conscious of how much he loves you all the time.

“you look so pretty, baby.” “leave me alone, nam-gyu.” “what? i mean it.”

he’s the first person to come to your defense, as expected. even though he’s the type to let himself be belittled, he’d never let it happen to you.

he’s the kind of person you can sit in silence with and not have it be awkward. silence with him is quite comforting.

min-su / player 126 is literally your twin. the both of you are the most reserved people known to man.

the amount of times you’ve just sat in silence, enjoying the other's presences is too much to count. the two of you simply sit in quietness.

if it comes to something like ordering food, you often take the initiative because min-su is way too shy for his own good.

“can you order for me?” “of course, love. i got it.” “thank you so much. where would i be without you?”

the only person either of you is comfortable around is the other. you’re a wreck around others, but it’s absolute tranquility when you’re with one another.

if it came to defending one another, you’d come to his defense without hesitance. he’s more tentative to defend either one of you, so it usually comes down to you doing it.

the both of you are a shy pairing and a very likely couple that surprised no one.

[meetmypointlessaddiction]

let me chase your demons away | l.howlett

First post of the New Year, hoping to write bigger and better things this year :)

Summary: Logan struggles to sleep... but not when you're around

Warnings: nightmares and panic attacks

Pairings: leaning more towards a fem!reader

Enjoy and please like and comment if you do. Something as simple as an emoji literally makes my day better so please don't hesitate to comment and obviously reblog to share my work.

Requests are also open if there is anything that people want me to write 💛

Logan had struggled with nightmares for as long as he could remember. Up until now, there had never been anything that could prevent the neverending terror loop his brain played on a night. Up until you.

You hadn’t been at the school long, Charles had invited you to come and teach English to some of the younger students, but Logan could tell there was something about you, something about your scent that made him relax. Your sleeping habits were just as messed up as his meaning that, whenever you both found yourself unable to sleep, you would both end up on the couch in the mansion’s living room, watching shitty movies to try and tempt you both to sleep. More often than not, it worked for Logan but little did you know that it wasn’t the mind numbing films or the peaceful silence, it was your company. 

For weeks, Logan would simply allow himself to fall asleep on the sofa beside you and it was the best night’s sleep he would have all week. He would ensure there was a good amount of distance between the two of you, not confident enough that he wouldn’t have a nightmare and go all Wolverine on you. You would wait until he fell asleep and then arrange his legs and neck comfortably on the couch, laying the thick blanket over him and then heading off to bed. 

When you were out on a mission or away from the mansion on a long period of time, Logan would have many nightmares. Nightmares meant a sleep deprived Logan and a sleep deprived Logan meant suffering for everyone else in the mansion. One night in particular, snow was falling heavily when Logan went to sleep and you were out of town, visiting some friends in a nearby village meaning a nightmare was 100% guaranteed. Snow was hard enough for Logan to manage, reminding him of Stryker and the physical and mental toll he went through. 

He woke with a start, his chest heaving and feeling tight, dripping sweat and struggling to concentrate on taking deep breaths. He didn’t know why it occurred to him but for some reason his first instinct was to call you so that’s what he did, not even considering the late hour, knowing that you were more than likely awake. 

In the next village over, your phone buzzing interrupted the conversation you and your friends were having over a bottle of wine. “Who’s calling you at this time?” Your friend, Georgia, asked with a smirk. 

“You got a secret boyfriend, you’re hiding from us?” Faith nudged you with a cheeky grin but you just gave them a half smile, standing and excusing yourself to take the call. 

“Logan? Has something happened?” You asked down the phone, alarmed by the heavy breathing and almost whimpers you could hear. 

“I-I think I’m havin’ a heart attack bub.” He said and you knew from then what was wrong. Since when does the Wolverine have heart attacks?

“Logan, you’re having a panic attack honey. You need to take deep breaths, sit yourself down and stop pacing, okay? Are you sat?” You asked and heard the creak of a bedframe as the man grumbled an affirmative. “Alright, in through your nose and out through your mouth. It’ll pass, Logan, I promise.” 

After a couple of minutes, his breathing began to even out the amount of noise he was making reduced. “I… sorry for interrupting your evenin’.” He ended the call quickly and you were left standing in the hall of your friends house, confused. Why did he call you out of everyone?

~~~~~~~~~~

A few days later, upon your return from your friend's house, Logan pulled you aside with a stern look on his face. “What happened the other night, didn't. Understand? Forget it.” 

You look at him, confused and slightly insulted. “What? You think I’m going to tell someone or something? You think I think of you any less because of it?” Your protest seemed to throw Logan off guard and he looked at you with wide eyes and his mouth slightly agape. “I don’t know who you think I am, Logan but that’s not the type of person I am.” 

~~~~~~~~~~

For the next few nights, Logan didn’t go downstairs to sit with you on the couch and watch shitty films, didn’t allow himself to bask in the comfort your company gave him. Instead, he suffered on minimal sleep and caffeine, causing headaches for everyone around him and snapping at every minor inconvenience in his life. 

Eventually, you grew tired of it and grabbed him by his forearm just as he was about to head to bed, dragging him towards the couch. “Everyone’s tired of your shit, Logan. Sit on the damn couch, watch a movie with me and sleep.” You demanded, pushing him to his side of the couch and putting the blanket over him before plopping yourself down at your side, closer than the pair of you would normally sit. Logan resisted for as long as he could but pure exhaustion gave him no other choice than to relax and sleep. His eyes fell shut and within minutes he was asleep, snoring and drool coming from his mouth. However, instead of going off to bed like you normally would, you rested your head against his shoulder and let yourself doze off. 

When the students and teachers of the school began waking up and racing downstairs to fight for the tv, they all fell silent at the sight of the notoriously grumpy Wolverine cuddled up with the cute English teacher, his face pressed into your hair as he spooned you, deep snores emanating for the man. Storm and Jean ushered the children out of the living room, telling them to leave the pair of you to rest for a little while longer while Scott immediately found a camera to take a photo to tease Logan with as soon as he woke up.

Dividers: @coolcatsgraphics

I'm also on A03 :)

[mmso-notlikethat]

I don't know why but well, here another take on this prompt, that just attacked me

It had been three weeks since their reunion. Buck had been patient—so, so patient—taking things slow just like Tommy had asked. Their kisses had been chaste, their hugs warm and reassuring. Tommy had been the one to set the pace this time, insisting they rebuild things carefully, brick by brick.

At first, it was easy. The simplicity of just being together again, of rediscovering each other’s rhythms, had been enough. But as the days passed, Tommy began to feel it—the slow burn building inside him.

It wasn’t Buck’s fault. Buck wasn’t even trying to push boundaries. If anything, Tommy might say he was almost too good at respecting them. He wasn’t asking for more, wasn’t pressing Tommy for anything. And yet… everything he did seemed to light a fire under Tommy’s skin.

Every little thing Buck did felt electric—his hand brushing Tommy’s arm, his thigh pressing against Tommy’s under the dinner table, even the way his voice dipped when he got serious. None of it was intentional, none of it meant to provoke, but Tommy’s body didn’t seem to care.

And the worst part? Buck wasn’t even trying. There were no smirks, no teasing touches, no knowing glances. He wasn’t playing a game or testing Tommy’s limits. He was just being himself—kind, attentive, and endlessly considerate. It was Tommy’s own damn fault for being so affected by it, for letting the tension build until every small interaction felt like a spark against dry kindling.

Tommy had asked for slow. He’d insisted on it. But now, weeks in, he could feel the weight of his own restraint pressing down on him. The heat coiling low in his belly grew stronger with each passing day, each lingering touch, each stolen glance.

And then there was today.

They were on the couch, Buck lying back with Tommy resting against him, his head on Buck’s shoulder. Buck had one arm wrapped loosely around Tommy’s chest while his other hand held his phone, scrolling through something. He was rambling about whatever he was watching—some video, or maybe a random fact he’d stumbled across—his voice warm and animated.

Tommy wasn’t paying attention.

All he could focus on was the way Buck’s breath brushed against his neck every time he spoke, soft and warm, sending shivers down his spine. His scent—warm skin, faint salt, familiar, intoxicating—filled Tommy’s lungs, making it impossible to think straight.

“Can you believe that?” Buck said, laughing softly as he tilted the phone slightly, like Tommy could see it from where he was lying.

“Hmm,” Tommy managed, his voice barely audible.

Buck didn’t seem to notice. He kept talking, his hand resting lightly on Tommy’s shoulder, his thumb brushing absentminded circles against his skin.

Tommy tried to focus, to say something coherent, but his body was betraying him. His chest felt tight, his skin tingling with need. His pulse pounded in his ears, and every brush of Buck’s breath against his neck sent another jolt straight to his core.

“Sure,” he murmured, though he had no idea what he was agreeing to.

And then Buck did something so simple, so casual, it was almost infuriating... he pressed a soft kiss to the side of Tommy’s neck.

That was it.

The fire that had been smoldering for weeks finally erupted. Tommy’s entire body tensed as a wave of pleasure crashed over him, sudden and overwhelming. His fingers clutched at Buck’s arm, his breath hitching as his thighs pressed together, trying to contain the impossible heat coursing through him.

The orgasm hit him like a tidal wave, sharp and blinding. Heat flooded through him, sticky and damp against his skin, as his mind went blank. His nails dug into Buck’s arm, his body shaking as he clung to him.

For a moment, everything went dark.

When he came back to himself, he was curled against Buck, who had both arms wrapped tightly around him, holding him close.

Buck’s presence was soft. He pressed another kiss to Tommy’s hair, his hands rubbing soothing circles over Tommy’s back.

Tommy’s breath hitched again, his cheeks burning as he pieced together what had just happened. “Shit,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “Evan—oh, shit—I’m so sorry…”

“Shhh,” Buck murmured, pulling Tommy even closer. “Tommy, that was so hot.”

Tommy froze, his embarrassment giving way to confusion as he felt it, pressed against his thigh—the unmistakable hardness, the heat, the sudden tension in Buck’s body. And then it happened.

Buck’s grip on him tightened further as a soft, shuddering gasp left his lips, his body trembling. Tommy didn’t need to ask to know what had just happened.

“Evan…” Tommy’s voice was barely audible, his cheeks flushing even darker as he realized what had just happened. his earlier embarrassment now mingling with something else—surprise, curiosity, maybe even pride.

Buck pulled back just enough to meet Tommy’s gaze, his face flushed but his eyes warm and filled with affection. “Guess we’re even now,” he said with a soft laugh, brushing a strand of hair out of Tommy’s face, and leaning to kiss him—deep and feverish, as though he couldn’t hold himself back any longer.

Tommy groaned, burying his face in Buck’s chest, when the kiss finally broke. “This is not how I thought today was gonna go.”

Buck kissed the top of his head, his smile audible in his voice. “Me neither. But I’m not complaining.”

[deatheaterv]

lol imagine Snape doesn’t die after nagini attacks him and he wakes up in the hospital and sees you, asks why you are there and you tell him “you dunderhead, I’m in love with you.”

DUNDERHEAD

pairing : severus snape x fem!reader

genre : fluff

summary : as in the request

severus snape blinked slowly, his mind clouded, the effects of nagini’s venom still lingering in his body. the world felt heavy, and everything seemed muffled. the gentle hum of the hospital wing, the soft rustle of papers, and the steady ticking of the clock on the wall. but then he saw you.

you were sitting beside him, looking as if you’d been there for hours, though you made no move to leave. your hair, a bit wild as always, framed your face, and there was a softness in your gaze that he rarely saw from anyone, let alone someone as powerful and independent as you.

he tried to sit up, but his body protested, and he winced slightly. you noticed immediately, your hand gently resting on his arm to keep him down. “easy there, severus,” you said with a soft smile, though there was a teasing edge to your voice. "you’ve had a bit of a rough time."

snape’s brow furrowed in confusion. his voice was raspy when he spoke. “why are you here?” his usual biting tone was replaced with something quieter, almost vulnerable. “you should be somewhere else.”

you raised an eyebrow, your lips curling into a playful grin. “somewhere else? you mean somewhere where i can’t tell you just how much of an idiot you are?” you teased gently. "not happening, professor."

severus blinked, surprised by your lighthearted tone. “don’t call me that,” he muttered, though there was no real heat behind the words. he didn’t know how to respond to you. how to respond to the fact that you weren’t running from him, but sitting there, staying. not out of duty, but because you wanted to.

you leaned forward, brushing some of your hair behind your ear, your gaze never leaving him. “i’m here because,” you paused, your smile softening, “i care about you, severus.”

he stared at you for a long moment, his heart pounding in his chest as he processed your words. you didn’t ask for anything in return. you didn’t need him to say anything. you simply stayed. and that was enough.

“you’re a dunderhead,” you added with a sigh, clearly exasperated, though there was a warmth in your eyes that made his chest tighten. "how could you think i wouldn’t be here?"

snape’s lips twitched into something like a smile, though he quickly suppressed it. “i didn’t ask for you to stay,” he muttered, but there was no bite to it now. instead, there was a quiet longing he didn’t understand.

you rolled your eyes playfully, your hand brushing his as you adjusted your position. “you don’t need to ask. i’m not leaving you to brood in here alone.” you paused, then added softly, “you’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

he wasn’t sure what to say, how to respond to you. he had spent so many years building walls, keeping everyone at a distance. but here you were, breaking them down one quiet moment at a time. and for once, he didn’t want to fight it.

“i don’t deserve you,” he murmured, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

you shook your head, smiling as if the idea was absurd. “that’s your biggest mistake, severus,” you said gently. “you do.”

he watched you for a long moment, the room feeling quieter, softer. maybe there was still too much between you two, too much unspoken. but for now, just this. just you.. was enough.

“well,” you said after a moment, breaking the silence with a smile, “since you’re awake, maybe we can stop calling you an idiot and actually talk about something fun.”

snape raised an eyebrow. “fun?”

“you know,” you teased, “like how i’m still planning to beat you at chess next time.”

a small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “we’ll see about that,” he said, the flicker of amusement in his voice betraying the walls he’d so carefully built around himself.

and for the first time in what felt like forever, severus snape allowed himself to simply enjoy the quiet warmth of your presence.

[wandixx]

GIW made a lot of mistakes and the biggest one was going against Young Justice part 2

part one is here

@whimsicalchaosgarden you asked to be tagged, sorry it took so long

Trigger warnings: mentions of experimentation and dehumanization (tell me if there is more appropriate way of phrasing it)

“So,” Robin started, taking the voice recorder out of his utility belt. “It'll probably be best if we get an explanation while making an accident report. This way we get it all over sooner”

Everyone agreed with this idea, standing in the loose circle in the debriefing area to make it all feel more serious. They had limited time before the next batch of cookies needed to be taken out of the oven and there was no way they all wouldn't devolve into chaos when it happened. M’gann knew from experience. 

To make sure they wouldn't take too long and cookies wouldn't turn on the fire alarm (again) both she and Danny set a timer.

In the meantime they had to learn who actually attacked them earlier.

“Phantom do the honors”

Danny froze for a moment, looking like deer caught in the headlight before he asked in a bit squeaky voice:

“How do I make an accident report?”

“Just say what happened but make it sound fancy,” Artemis explained. 

“Make a mission report and we'll fix it along the way,” Kaldur proposed.

“Answer ‘When? Where? Who was involved? What happened? What have you done about it?’ without excessive use of puns to avoid Bat-lecture” Robin helped, already in handstand.

“Bat-lecture? Really Rob?”

“So it's like lab report lite” Danny said before Robin did anything more than squawk indignantly “Alright, I can do it. Do you have any set phrase to start? And which accident report is it, in the database?"

“44th… How about ‘[Hero name], report’? Sounds serious enough.”

Everyone agreed, so after a moment of silence Kaldur did the honors.

“Phantom, report”

Danny straightened, rolling his shoulders back and locked his eyes in the middle distance. It was a bit eerie how fast he went from relaxed and goofy to almost emotionless statue. M’gann wished to never encounter it again, thank you very much.

“Incident report no. 45 made by Young Justice member Phantom, regarding an attack from earlier today, 26th April 20XX. The Young Justice Team, later referred to as the Team, went on a trip to an amusement park staying currently in the city of Happy Harbour. It was an activity meant to strengthen interpersonal relationships within the Team, previously green-lit by Red Tornado. Every member was in civilian attire as per protocol. Around 3:15 PM, after two and a half hours, the Team were disturbed by a group of ten armed people, recognized by member Phantom as belonging to Ghost Investigation Ward, colloquially known as GIW or Guys In White because of their uniforms. Later in the report the organization will be referred to as the GIW. Two shots were fired by the assailants, targeting but not reaching member Phantom. Members of the GIW were hostile but with use of humor and threat of legal actions, the Team managed to diffuse the situation before it endangered passerbys. Despite direct attack, none of the Team members’ identities were compromised. Assailants left the confrontation with belief that Phantom left his ectoplasmic signature on an unrelated civilian. Agents refused to admit they were working for the GIW since its operations break a couple of laws of the state Rhode Island. Because of that, their appearance was reported to local law enforcement and taken care of. No injuries or damage to the city infrastructure were sustained other than two burns in the asphalt in the place of confrontation. Required follow-up with local law enforcement in civilian attire as victims of assault. End of report” Danny sighed, easing back into a more natural position. “This good?” he asked, with a sheepish smile.

“Perfect”

“How are you so good at reporting? You didn’t even know what to do a second ago? That’s just unfair”

“I used to write my parent’s lab reports. It’s pretty similar in form”

“Lab-”

“Follow-up to the report only, Kid-Flash,” Robin interrupted “Phantom. elaborate on who were the assailants”

Danny stepped back from himself again.

“GIW is a ghost hunting organization supported and accredited by the state government in Illinois, legally operating also in states Wisconsin and Ohio. Their goal is to catch and examine ecto-entities to learn more about their biology and ways to obliterate them. Obviously their plans for experimentation don’t include consideration of ghosts’ well-being”

“Damn, that’s messed up”

“They wouldn't catch a blob ghost if they tried,” Danny shrugged, though something was wrong with the gesture. She wasn't sure though, so she moved on.

“Then why were you scared?” M’gann pressed on instead.

“My parents… are, you know, prominent ghost hunters so when GIW opened we all got a tour around the whole building. The lab was… it made me imagine things I wished I had never thought about”

“They have labs? Like evil labs?” Robin perked up like a kid who just heard that Christmas came early. “How could you hide it from us?!” he added, falling to hang on Danny's shoulder. He twirled a bit to catch the left one even though before he stood on halfa’s right side. Dramatic as always “Conner, we have a birthday gift for you!”

“What does GIW’s lab have to do with my birthday?”

“The potential!” Robin yelled, straightening for a better effect.

Everyone started laughing. Well, everyone other than Conner who just looked at them confused.

“He probably wants to storm another lab, bring up nostalgia of our first meeting,” Kaldur calmed down just enough to explain.

“Tell me you wouldn't like to punch an evil scientist,” Wally added, almost dropping to the floor. 

“This does sound nice”

“And THIS is exactly the reason why I haven't told you all. Thanks for spoiling my surprise Rob,” Danny lied, though he did his best to sound truthful. He even projected some false mirth.

It would take much more to trick M’gann though. She abruptly stopped laughing.

“You're lying. Why actually haven't you told us?” she demanded maybe a little too harshly, but she was worried. Everyone froze for a moment, before turning to look at Danny.

“They're all bark no bite, and aim worse than Stormtroopers’, so I haven't considered them important enough to report”

Other's didn’t know, of course, but M’gann knew just how terrified Danny was during the confrontation and how echoes of that fear soured air around him even hours later.

Everyone did realize this explanation was a tone of bullshit though. 

Apparently incredulous stares were enough of the response.

“You and the Justice League have more important things to deal with than some shitty local laws”

“Bullshit again,” Artemis burst her lips “This is exactly what Justice League is for”

“I already found people to help me lobby against them”

“And why aren't we on the list?” 

Danny fell silent, not looking anyone in the eyes, which was quite a feat considering they had him in a half circle. M’gann considered moving to his side to show her support. Stare down like that had to be quite stressful.

Why not actually. She stepped closer, and drew him in the loose side hug. Danny tensed, which wasn't abnormal for him. He usually relaxed in about thirty seconds, if he didn't, she'd let go.

“I didn't expect them to breach the containment…”

“Each of these lies is worse, you know? Like, insulting our intelligence level of worse,” Artemis interrupted once more, pinning him with her eyes alone “Give us truth or stop talking”

Danny raised his head to look back at Artemis and mimed zipping his mouth shut and throwing the key away. 

“Really?”

Boy just shrugged, not breaking eye contact.

“Alright, let's move on to the next question, how did it get approved in the first place?” Wally interrupted, waving his hand between them. They both shook off like dogs fresh out of water.

“Couldn't you wait five more seconds until I won?” 

“Ha! You wish Artemis. Though you could give us a moment”

“I gave you literal ages”

Danny snorted “Sorry, I keep forgetting how impatient you are”

“Oh shut up, my brain is just faster than yours, you slowpokes”

“Sure, sure”

“He made a good point,” Kaldur said “This shouldn’t even pass. And even if, you’re legally a Meta”

“Normal ghosts aren’t and halfas being a thing is not exactly common knowledge among the living”

“I’ll never get used to this distinction”

“I believe in you, Rob”

“What about ‘Extraterrestrial, extradimensional and otherwise previously unincluded’ Optional Protocol to the ‘International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights’?”

“Oh my god Conner, you’re the only person to say the whole name ever”

“Hey!”

“It all comes down to the definition of the ghost and the fact that Alien addition uses sentience and sapience as a ground to give anyone said rights. And also, US signed it but didn’t ratify it so…”

“Isn’t it same thing?”

“Nope. I thought so too, but apparently signing anything means nothing unless it’s also ratified, so I’m kinda fucked. Can’t even get the UN to frown at them disapprovingly, because officially, nothing was agreed to. And you know, even if they ratified it, ecto-scientists conducted enough research to prove we aren’t sapient enough to have these rights anyway. Just most of the states didn’t need to make a law out of it”

“That’s rough buddy”

“Are you really quoting Avatar at me right now? Really Artemis?”

“Yes”

“Wasn’t Avatar this movie with blue people? I don’t think they said that there”

M’gann wasn’t quite sure why human members seemed to be appalled by the question.

“We’re going to fix that later-”

“What exactly is there to be fixed, because I feel like we’re talking about to different things”

“- but for now can we go back to the whole ‘ghosts have no rights in Illinois’ thing” Robin continued, completely ignoring Conner’s questions.

“Illinois, Wisconsin and Ohio. There are portals to the Zone in two of these states. GIW already tried to send nuke through one of them”

“How Americana of them,” Kaldur muttered.

“If you have another insane tidbit about them, please share it all now. My mind can’t utilize any more revelations like that”

“I handled it, don’t worry”

“Someone tried to nuke literal Afterlife…”

“Yup, get on the schedule Kid Flash. You’re supposed to be fast”

M’gann knocked her arm into his, kinda as a ‘don’t be mean’ message. Danny kinda tensed, but soon relaxed back and moved his head as if he wanted to lay it on her shoulder. Excitement of the day was clearly catching up to him.

M’gann wouldn’t be mad if he did laid his head there.

“Why do we learn about it just now?”

“I wrote the report, not my fault you haven’t read it”

“Can’t fault us for assuming we’d know every important thing from your endless bitching!”

Danny straightened and laughed, in this horrible humorless way that made M’gann want to claw at her brain until she couldn’t hear or sense any of it.

Instead, she brought her other hand up and just held him tighter.

Thankfully the whole spectacle didn’t last long.

“It’s cute that you think I bitch about anything important”

“Phantom…”

“Don’t Phantom me right now. Even if by some miracle they managed to send the missile to the Zone, it most likely wouldn’t have worked. They’re mostly just a joke.”

“They managed to shot you. Right upper arm or shoulder”

“Don’t deny it, we’ve seen you wince when I leaned on you and when M’gann hugged you”

Martian tried to let go hearing that, but Danny held her in place. She stayed where she was but carefully moved her hand away from the slightly damp area on his shirt. She suddenly caught on everything that was wrong with him, now that she knew to look for it.

“I got worse from the hand of my house’s security system”

“You… understand that it’s… like… way worse, right?”

“You don’t know life until you hear threats of dissection against your alter ego after stopping death ray with bowl of cereal,” he said, relaxing more into her side again. He sounded absolutely exhausted.

“Do you want to move in here? Until we deal with this whole GIW and assorted mess?” she said instead. Conner nodded, surprisingly eager to share the space that he considered somewhat sacred.

“Nope, I’m good, I’m needed there”

“You could Zeta- yeah, no, nevermind, it wasn’t good idea. But we could make it work”

“You still should-”

“It’s fine. I mean, I have it handled and it doesn’t affect that many people. And we’re working on it. It’s fine”

“It really is not,” Conner growled.

“You need your arm patched up” M’gann demanded, ignoring previous conversation, with eyes still fixed on the blood that stained her forearm. She should’ve destroyed at least Operative K.

“I bandaged it up”

“It soaked through then. Let’s go to med–”

Loud shrill interrupted her, because of course it did.

“Oh, look, convenient distraction! Let’s take the cookies out before they get burned!”

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow,” M’gann stated in a way that allowed no argument “You’re getting away for now only because I’m holding most of your weight right now”

“Sure we will. And I can stand on my own, thank you very much”

“I’ve heard many lies today and this might be the worst of them. We’re going to Medbay as soon as the cookies are out”

“You’ve got it boss”

[sulumuns-dootah]

This might not be very good request but it seems adorable in my mind…falling asleep on the kings? Maybe watching a movie or something and we just conk out. This may come from the fact that I’m a hardcore Leviathan hater but I feel he’d push us to the ground 😪

Falling asleep on the WHB kings

⟡ Masterlist ⟡

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The moment Satan notices you're out, he looks down at you and can't help but smile

You look so peaceful which is a welcomed change from the constant stress of angel attacks

He'll try to lay still for you, but can't promise anything

If he needs to move, he'll first try and test to see how deep asleep you are before picking you up and moving you either to bed or back where you fell asleep

       ༺☆༻

This man is as comfortable as a rock

I know we technically slept on him in the main story, but c'mon... just by looking at him you can tell his muscles could cut glass

So if you happen to fall asleep on him, he'll remain unmoving

A part of him is giddy that you feel this comfortable around him and that you see him as your protector

       ༺☆༻

Now, Leviathan pushing you to the ground depends on how close you are

And since he even considered to allow you to watch a movie with him, I'm guessing you're kinda closer

Okay so, if you fall asleep on him, he probably won't mind right away

But he won't try to be still for you either

He'll pretty much ignore you

At least until he has to get up or something

Only then he'll push you off and whether it's gently back onto the surface you're on or the floor depends on how close you are

       ༺☆༻

Another one that I'm not sure how you fell sleep on

Staying still is damn near impossible for Beel

And honestly, 0/10 would recommend falling asleep on him even if you could

Like the jokester he is, the moment he sees you're asleep, he's getting the marker out and doodling on your face

Honestly, I'd say the only time you're safe falling asleep from his shenanigans is after getting your insides rearranged and Beel feels all lovey-dovey

       ༺☆༻

Let's be honest here

Belphegor is the first one to fall asleep

So you can safely fall asleep too

And if do happen to beat Belphie to it, he'll just chuckle

'Who's the slothful one now, huh?'

All in all very wholesome ♥

       ༺☆༻

Watching a movie?

It maybe started that way, but you surely don't end the evening that way

Over the course of the movie transitioned you from sitting next to him to cockwarming him and to making you bounce on his lap

So the only way you could pass out is from all the action

At that point when your body slumps down against his chest, he'll just continue fucking up into you and groping your body

Only after he finishes for the nth time, he'll check if you're okay and slip out of you to set you down to rest next to him

       ༺☆༻

Writing these last four kings is always funny bc of how they usually go back and forth :D

Lucifer is the exact opposite of Asmo

When you fall asleep on him, he'll try to move without waking you up so you don't have to sleep in such an awkward position

In moments like these, he also allows himself to get a bit more clingy and cuddles up with you more

Too bad you're not awake to feel all his affectionate touches and gentle kisses all over you face :(

[admirationandromantics]

Camping Date

So cute, so adorable, it's great! I love date ideas, whether it's a spa night, or going out. Already being an established couple takes out the awkwardness and uncertainty of it all, I think. My writing is not top notch at this time, so I have to apologise for that, but the fact that you still like stuff is absolutely marvellous. Thank you all for requests, and the fact that you read what I write. It's incredible, and I appreciate it so much!! <3

Word count: 1,8k (Unedited)

🍋‍🟩Hello skilful writer, imagine briefly mentioning in a group setting (around Josh) that you haven’t ever been camping before because your family wasn’t that type of family to go and you’d never got the opportunity and you get an invitation to the lodge during the summer just for a casual hangout thinking nothing of it. You are welcomed by Josh at the door and you’re surprised by the fact it’s so quiet and he said he just wanted to hang out with you, he covers your eyes with his hands while he leads you out to the back garden and there’s a lovely tent (not huge but enough space for sleeping bags, a fridge as well as a tv and console and you guys game and stuff, you’ve never felt so seen and he admits he has never felt what he feels with you (delusional, I know) -@b3rryb3t

“Yeah, I love mountain climbing, camping comes natural with that as well” Sam explains, taking a sip of her drink. I’m sitting on the floor, using the edge of the couch as back-support. Josh is sitting on the cushions next to me, occasionally reaching out his leg for me to give him some attention. 

“You know, setting up camp on a wall, looking out into the abyss, it’s gorgeous!” 

“Sounds a little too much like extreme sports to me” Jess chimes in. 

Everyone was sharing some types of camping stories, Josh and his family, Sam when climbing, Jess and Emily who were basically forced out because they needed family time. Mike told us about that one time he and the rest of the boys went, and we all listened with curious ears. 

“Well, Josh was the only one who really knew what to do, so while he fixed everything, we made the fire” 

“Wow, they made the fire like real men” Ashley whispers sarcastically to the other girls, and we all laugh. 

“Tell us, how much time did you use to get it going?” 

“Well…” 

Josh interrupts him with a scoff, leaning back on the couch as everyone’s eyes fall on him. 

“They didn’t manage, when I was done with setting up, they had at least used forty minutes, and weren’t even close blazing it up” 

Everyone starts laughing while Matt, Mike and Chris silently look down on the floor, not daring to say anything else. I shift my gaze upwards, leaning back against Josh’s leg. His hand comes down to stroke my hair, fingers tangling down until he reaches my neck. Thumb rubbing soft, warm circles as I lean my head back. 

“And what about you? Got any good camping stories?” 

I think back, but I can’t remember. My family never went, and usually my friends have gone on family holidays, so they couldn't exactly invite me. 

“Never gone camping before” 

“What?” Josh exclaims, a bit shocked. His fingers stop their attack, and I nudge his leg, urging him to continue. 

“Lucky” Emily says, letting Matt wrap a hand around her. 

“Why have you never gone?” Sam asks. These people really couldn’t imagine it. I keep my explanation short, urging them to keep talking about something else. 

“Never had a family like that, and most of my friends didn’t go either. Those who did went with the rest of their family” 

Everyone hums in reply, understanding the situation, and Josh finally resumes the massage. I turn my head, giving his knuckles a small kiss and smiling before turning to the others again. Sam suddenly gets a glint in her eyes, sitting a bit up and exclaiming. 

“We should go camping with the whole group sometime!” 

“No!” “Yes!” People shout out at the same time. Then everyone starts yelling at each other, explaining why or why not this would be a good idea. My hand finds its way to Josh’s leg, slithering around him and using it as a pillow while I sit beneath him. 

***

We’re walking up to the lodge, the path being much easier when there isn’t a bunch of ice and snow in the way. He invited me over for a “summer getaway”, the complete opposite of what we usually do. It’s still cold here, it’s a mountain after all, but we don’t need gloves nor huge jackets. Instead of dark pine trees and white ground, the surroundings are blooming in greens and flowers. The trees look much more lively when the sun shines down and brings their dark colours forth. 

“Okay, we’re here” Josh exclaims, stopping in front of the lodge. 

“The mountain is easier to climb in the summer” I state, looking around. I can’t get enough, the colours and atmosphere. Occasionally seeing a small animal, which normally would have frightened me, but now, feels completely natural. 

“It is, sorry to say, but you’ll not be able to see for a while” 

“What do you mean?” 

“You need to put this on” he says, holding a black piece of fabric in front of me. Usually, I would oblige at once, but considering we’re on a mountain with a bunch of wild animals. 

“Josh, I know I look good, but do you really think this is the place?” 

He laughs, rolling his eyes as he comes closer. His lips meet mine, caressing them with such tenderness, I can’t help but blush. It’s nice to know that even though we’ve been together for so long, he still makes me all giddy and flustered. As we kiss, I feel something heavy in front of my eyes, his hands making their way to the back of my head, fiddling with a knot. He tightens it, luckily not too tight, before leaning away and taking both my hands in his. 

“Okay, you need to trust me on this”

“Famous last words” I joke, and he snickers, walking backwards in front of me. He leads me away, a couple of turns and swings, occasionally having to tell me if there’s a road block. 

“You know, this is what people do when they’re about to kill someone” 

“Or take them very hard against a tree in the middle of the forest” he adds. 

“Hmm, wouldn’t be opposed to that idea” 

“Then I’ll keep it in mind” 

“Shit” I blurt out, leg walking into something which stumbles me. Josh is quick, letting me fall on him while one hand goes around my waist to hold me up. 

“Sorry, should’ve told you about that branch” 

“I hate being blind” 

“I’m kinda into it” 

“Of course you are” 

We continue a bit more, being even more careful than before. He keeps saying we’re almost there, and I can’t wait to see what he means. He explains each step, making sure that I’m prepared for everything. 

“Okay, this last one is a bit tricky, but you need to sit down” I nod, bending my knees before sitting completely down on the mossy ground. My feet are hanging down, signalling there’s a drop here. I wonder how far. He lets go of my hands, and I call out. 

“Yeah, I’m right down here, I need you to jump” 

“Josh, I can’t jump if I can’t see how far or where I’m going” 

“Yes you can, just trust me, come on” 

“Fuck” I mutter, the idea being terrifying. I take a breath, hands gripping the edge of the rock, scooching from the moss to the hard, stone edge. I jump, hands letting go and body in the air. I’m caught almost immediately, Hands going to my waist, slowly putting me down on the ground. I let out a breath of air, the thought was scarier than the fall. 

“You made me think it was much further down” 

“I didn’t say anything about the height” he laughs with a bit of a cocky attitude. I know he can’t see it but I roll my eyes. Gosh, were we almost there yet?

“Okay, we’re here” 

He moves behind me, hands on my waist, keeping me steady. I take off the fabric, the sunlight immediately blinding. A couple of seconds later, I’ve finally adjusted, and am met with a cozy tent. In the middle is a small fire, not lit yet, with a bunch of pillows and blankets all over. There’s a huge dark one between some trees, set up like a screen, with a projector set up right by it. Consoles are beside it, and a small portable ice-bag is laid next to the tent. 

I can’t even muster up words, everything being completely perfect and fixed. 

“Oh my god” 

“Do you like it?” 

“Josh I love it”

I turn to him, a loving smile on his lips as I capture them in mine. He did all of this for me. 

“Is this why you wanted to come up first?” 

“Well, had to set everything up” 

“I love you so incredibly much” 

He deepens the kiss, hand coming behind my head, pulling me closer. My arms fall around his shoulder, hugging him tightly. What a wonderful guy, I must be the luckiest girl on earth. 

“You said you’ve never been camping before, and I know having all this tech-stuff here is not quite traditional, but-”

“It’s amazing, I can’t believe you did this for me” 

I give him another small kiss, taking his hand and leading him into the area. Everything is planned out, the daylight slowly giving out already, making the projector visible. We sit down, and he opens a drink before handing it to me. The clearing is beautiful, rocky moss ground and trees. A little squirrel climbs up, curiously looking down at us. 

“How did you get the idea?” I ask, curious about his creativity. 

“Well, you told me you never had been camping before” 

My heart melts at the memory. A small thing, really, but he remembered it, and did something about it. He wanted me to have this experience, and he wanted to have it with the both of us. He walks up, turning on the projector and grabbing a couple of consoles before sitting back down beside me. 

“So, have you done this with a lot of people?” I ask teasingly, leaning against him as he takes a sip. 

“Nah, none have been that special. I’ve never quite felt before what I have with you” 

“Neither have I” 

He puts the drink down, hand going to my arm, urging me to do the same. I oblige, letting him lead me down, back pressed against the moss. His lips find mine, capturing them in a passionate manner. I open my mouth, letting my tongue roam over his lip. His hands wander over my body, groping and massaging every tender area. A small moan escapes my lips, and I feel him smile against me, slowly moving down to my exposed neck. 

I open my eyes a bit, seeing the squirrel watching intently. I almost let out a laugh from the sight, and use my fingers to nudge him in the side. 

“Josh…” “Mhmmm” he mumbles, continuously attacking my neck. He’s focused, working his mouth with magic. 

“Someone’s watching us” 

“What?” 

He stops immediately, looking around worriedly. I laugh, pointing up at the animal. He looks in the direction, a foul expression on his face as he notices. 

“Damn that thing” 

“You know, you have made so much ready here, let’s play a couple of games before spending the night in the tent” I tease, sitting up and taking another sip of my drink. 

“I promise you, no one sleeps well when camping” 

“Then it’s good we’re not planning on sleeping”

[atangledfate]

Miles listened to blaze while he let Belle go over the entry to double check and make additions. His hand rubbing his chin in thought as his tail swished in annoyance. Truth was they didn't have enough data to implicate either of them in what was going down. though it was more likely that GUN was using the president in some fashion, they couldn't discount they were all in on it together.

" We just don't know enough to say either way. It's clear someone is working to undermine our work. Someone had amy attacked and someone destroyed our servers. The only real clue we have is to find the attack and question them. We'll have to worry about that after this lock down is lifted..."

Miles put a hand on Belle's shoulder in an attempt to comfort her. He knew it was likely against her program to lie, even a little white lie. Though it spoke to her Self-Awareness that she was able to do it to protect herself.

" I know it sucks that you even have to consider this route. I wish we had a better option... but i don't want to see anything bad happen to you... this feels the safest option... when this is over. We'll make sure you get that citizenship properly... so this never happens again "

The Big Gator chewed on the toothpick and mostly he'd been listening to what was going on. Vector knew he wasn't as smart as blaze or miles and, trying to out smart those two was silly. But he was street smart, and he was still the best detective this side of west city! Even if they mucked up with clutch and got caught--- to be fair that was his fault.

" I Reckon' when things die down ya are gonna want us to find that soldier girl? Dun you worry none, us Chaotix got this in the bag! We'll find who ever attacked Amy. It's what us Chaotix do..."

" It might be more complicated then that Vector. They took Amy out in one blow. That's not the work of a soldier, that's the work of an Assassin, and if what Blaze said is true. An Assassin that can ignore your defenses and strike a vital... as a former assassin myself--- i don't see that going well for us. "

================================================

Her eyes softened seeing Surge so genuine, so full of remorse. It was a side of her she had never seen. She felt for her but, Surge was right she'd made bad choices. She just didn't know what would happen to her once they parted ways. She decided then to honor Surges wishes, and see that Kitsunami was protected in some way. If nothing else she felt like this was the first real step to Surge healing from what she'd been through.

" I'll do everything i can to keep Kit out of harms way Surge. With your direct testimony and what Miles told me. I think its a powerful argument of his innocence's. "

She sighed and looked up at Surge with a frown

" You know they'll cuff you when they take you in Surge. Until then i don't see a need for cuffs... but when we hand you over--- it'll be required. Better we cuff you then those agents... But we'll worry about that for the final exchange, we still have to negotiate. "

" Can... you come to the command center and make a statement about kit for us? Just what you told me here. It'll help us when we negotiate to have everything ready, so we can present it during talks with the Federation and its goons..."

"Well, I certainly felt that way from when I spoke with Commander Lupe, though the President didn't give off such a vibe. I do wonder, could the commander be acting on his own accord? I don't wish to judge someone I haven't met, though he doesn't seem to have a very good reputation." Blaze wondered how many toes he has stepped on to have such a dislike from so many people. Regardless, there was little she could do about it now.

"I still dislike being dishonest, though I suppose there is little choice if I want to fully protect myself." Belle would simply swallow the pill for now and get to work making any adjustments she needed. "Though we can at least defend ourself from the claim we attempted to wipe our own servers, though I am concerned if there was any data they stole." The tinkerer could recover data with Belle Bot, though with the servers wipes there was no way to check if something was copied or downloaded.

"This is why I avoided G.U.N during the war," Rowan said as he entered the room. "It was a struggle and I had to tick off more than a few people, though I got a place for The Restoration to crash. I guess Clean Sweep cleared out of some building they had. Guess someone put them on blast so they all bailed. Which means it went to the town and not the government. Basically they're letting use crash there for free right now. Also means G.U.N can't come knocking wanting it without a fight from the mayor." Not perfect, though should last long enough for The Restoration to get back on their feet.

===========================================================

"I ain't got no one to blame but myself for the situation I'm in. Even after Starline was gone I still made selfish choices and hurt people, though Drippy never did. He just went along with whatever I wanted, and even then he never hurt a single person." Surge figured she could one good thing before being taken to jail, and that was to make sure Drippy got home.

"Then you better tell whoever I ain't letting the cuffs get slapped on me until I see for myself Drippy walking away. If they want to argue then be sure to remind them I can tear through more than a good chunk of their guys before anyone can actually stop me." Surge then looked at the checkpoint. "HEY, LOSERS! I AIN'T WITH THESE LOSERS EITHER! ANYTHING I DO IS ON ME!" She'd like to see them put any blame on The Restoration now if she did pick a fight.

[heron-knight]

The Wolf at the Door

finally, the moment I assume you've all been waiting for because I know my audience.

Really, that night was supposed to be perfect. All the paperwork sorted, nothing else needing to be done-- you’d been planning it for a few days. Put it off until the moon was full because you’d had work to do every evening before. A lot, actually, now that you think about it. Over the last few months, there had been quite a noticeable increase in the number of people in town with badly injured pets. Never that bad, but enough to make you wonder if nearly half the dogs in a ten-mile radius had been getting into fights suddenly. You’d been suspecting that some animal had probably shown up in the forest. Something big, by the look of the injuries, but probably an obligate carnivore that wouldn’t waste any more energy than necessary fighting a dog. You may still have just been working as a veterinarian in a small town, but that ecology degree sure wasn’t going to waste. It didn’t really matter now, though, you could leave your work out of this. This was your night. Work finished, medications taken, and with no work tomorrow, it was time for a long evening in the woods. Just you, the forest, and the crisp, chill air of a clear night in late fall. Going over your inventory, it seemed like you were fully prepared-- enough layers to keep you warm until you really got moving, a light with plenty of battery that you planned to use as little as physically possible-- and with some deliberation, a small can of bear spray in case your theory of “obligate carnivore that wouldn’t waste energy on fighting a dog and by extension probably wouldn’t attack a human” wasn’t entirely correct. 

Stepping out onto the porch, one breath of the night air was enough to remind you of why you’d gotten interested in your field in the first place. That intoxicating mystery of the dark. What was in it? What was the source of the sound of crunching leaves behind you as you stroll through the moonlit forest? A feeling like another you’d had before, but a bit less personal. Why’d you have to be born a creature that can’t see it? Human night vision is vastly limited even with time to adjust.  You’d always taken every chance to stay out late, to spend long nights standing in a meadow clipping bands onto owls just to know the species composition of the symphony of nocturnal hunters that you’d spent evenings listening to ever since you had been old enough to stay awake that long. Those little discoveries, those moments in class and in your independent studies when you’d see all those points of data and it was almost like what you needed, almost like being able to raise an ear to the woods and have it speak to you in its language of adaptation and trophic webs-- those were almost as wonderful as your evening strolls, lungs filled with moonlight and heart pounding from sheer wonder as your pace quickened almost subconsciously into nearly a sprint, ignoring the trails and leaping over fallen trees, feeling like a part of this trophic pyramid, this hunt, even tinged with frustration at eyes that couldn’t see well enough to find prey in the dark and legs that wouldn’t be able to keep up with it anyway. When the sounds of the night fill your ears and adrenaline surges through your brain, there’s no more worrying. No more thinking about loans or applications or appointment scheduling or how much time they said visible results would take to show up. No more thinking about how best to bring up the subject of the name you had seen your contact saved under on your mother’s phone even though it hadn’t been yours for nearly four years now. A quick run through the night would always tear all your worries from your mind like teeth tearing into a fresh carcass. Besides, that night there had barely been anything to worry about. The weather was perfect, you knew on some level that she’d change it immediately if you asked, and the slight ache in your chest invited the sneaking suspicion that for once, the overall experience varying from person to person might work in your favor, and things might have been moving ahead of the projected schedule. This was going to be a good night. That is, until the next step sent you falling face-first onto the porch as your foot struck something soft but solid that seemed to-- recoil slightly as you tripped over it. 

In the dim light of the porch, you could just barely see the dark shape that had interrupted your planned excursion. Curled in front of your door, breathing heavily through sharp teeth as the small but certainly alarming pool of blood in which it sat slowly increased in size. Your mind raced through all your experience and training as you stood, limped over to where the… creature… lay, and assessed the situation. Okay, we’ve got a… wolf, I think. There are no wolves in this area, haven’t been for centuries. No, I can worry about that later. It’s… hurt. Definitely. Looks like a big laceration along its side, multiple? From antlers, maybe? Okay, don’t panic… you’re trained for this. Okay… you went through your checklist. Okay, veterinary OR… don’t have one in my house. Patient sedated… no, but it probably can’t move anyway. I’d better stay away from those teeth, though. “Screw it!” you said out loud, reaching down and, with not insignificant difficulty, lifting the animal and carrying it into your house. Damn, this thing is huge. Countless papers and dishes hit the floor as you swept everything off the kitchen counter, ignoring the fact that you had definitely heard something shatter as you placed it carefully on top, then rushed into the bathroom and returned with as many towels as you could carry. The next few minutes were frantic-- rushing around the house, turning on as many lights as possible as you grabbed your personal medkit, as well as a few other things. This was far from an ideal setup, but your confidence was undeniable. Veterinary medicine was how you paid the bills. Wildlife rehabilitation was your passion. Besides, the first wolf in the state in around 200 years would be way too interesting to let die. Once everything was assembled, the kitchen was lit, and you’d taken a second to center yourself, you wasted no time in getting to work. Shave the area around the injury, clean the wound, stitch, disinfect, bandage-- all that was practically instinctual. No time to stop and wonder why the wolf was here of all places. It took a while, a not-insignificant number of stitches, and nearly all the bandages you’d had, but after some time your visitor was patched up, moved to the largest dog crate you could find, (though it still barely fit,) and seemed to be asleep but more or less alive. The satisfaction of a job well done, however, quickly faded as a glance around the room revealed the whole first floor of the house to be a mess of bloodsoaked towels, medical supplies, and all the things you’d thrown aside while tearing the place apart looking for said supplies, not to mention the bloodstains all over the carpet, most prominent from the door to the counter but by no means limited to there. Oh, and then there was the hair. As it turned out, when you shave off a large amount of an animal’s hair to have better access to the wounds and prevent infection, that hair has to go somewhere-- which, in this case, was everywhere, including and especially your favorite coat, which you had forgotten to remove once your plans for a moonlit stroll were interrupted, and was now soaked almost entirely through with blood and seemed to be the source of the stains on the carpet from the kitchen to the bathroom and other parts of the house. Exhausted, irritated, and with the adrenaline having mostly worn off, all you could really manage in response to that whole situation was a long sigh. Cleaning up the house could wait. Who cared if the blood started soaking into the carpet? Besides, you really needed a shower then. 

It hadn’t really gotten into your hair at all, so washing off the blood didn’t take much of your attention. The main reason was that a bit of warm water was perfect for calming down and getting a bit more centered. As good a place as any to go over the facts.

There is a very large wolf in my house. I brought it into my house because… scientific interest. Okay, fine. I like wolves and wanted to help it. Sue me. It is in a crate that I really hope it is too tired to try and escape from, because there is no way it would hold.

There is a very large wolf in this state despite them being extinct in this part of the country for quite some time now, and I think if someone had managed to get them reintroduced to this area, I would have heard about it. Besides, that still wouldn’t explain why it’s so huge.

This very large wolf was injured, probably by a deer, and decided to, out of all the places it could have gone, lie down directly in front of my door. If this area actually did have a wolf population that survived the historical extermination attempts, then they would have to be very good at hiding from humans. This one seems to have actively sought human assistance. 

After thinking for a moment, another realization hit. The wolf has seemed… off, somehow. You’re pretty sure it had extra toes, but you’d have to check to make sure. What exactly was up with this thing? This huge, wounded animal that had shown up, completely alone, in front of your door and despite not having lost a ton of blood, had really been a surprisingly cooperative patient. Something was definitely strange, but you did not have the energy to deal with it then, a glance at your phone as you were drying off with one of the last clean towels in the house revealing it to be 12:27. Maybe you had spent just a bit longer than you had realized staring at it as it lay in the crate. The decision to handle that whole situation in the morning was made nearly instantly, congratulating yourself on your decision to handle everything that needed to be done that night before the walk as you pulled on a robe and staggered into your room, collapsing onto the bed and falling asleep much quicker than the average person with a wolf in their house would have. 

Waking up that morning was a slow process as usual, sped up only slightly by the need to go check on the wolf downstairs. Luckily, you still had some spare dog food left over from when you had taken care of the neighbors' dog a few months back, and besides, it probably wouldn’t be particularly feeling like eating in its current state. That gave you a few handy excuses to stay in bed just a bit longer-- that is, until only a few minutes after you went back to sleep, you were woken up by the sound of the coffee maker downstairs. Several possibilities ran through your head, none of them entirely plausible, but when you hear someone or something using one of your kitchen appliances while being the only thing in the house besides a large wounded animal, plausibility tends to be the last thing on your mind. Okay, possibility one: there is someone in my house. I think I would have remembered if somebody had been over while… all that was happening last night, so someone must have broken into my house in the middle of the night, stayed until the sun came up, and… started making coffee. That theory was quickly discarded, as it made even less sense somehow than theory #2. Possibility two: somehow, despite numerous injuries, the wolf that was last night unable to even react when I was putting enough stitches in it to make a scarf has somehow broken out of the crate (without waking me up), and is now wandering around my house and must have bumped into the coffee maker and turned it on by accident. How exactly a wolf, even one nearly four feet tall at the shoulder, could turn on an appliance on the kitchen counter by accident, was not exactly taken into consideration. Even if it had somehow gotten up onto the counter, it required quite a bit of force to press the buttons. Both theories, though unlikely, were better than no theory at all, so both were kept in mind as you rummaged around in the pile of yesterday’s clothes for that can of bear spray you’d been planning to take on the walk. Whether it was the wolf or an intruder, going downstairs unarmed didn’t seem like the best idea. 

The first thing you noticed upon glancing down the stairs was the hair. Yes, there had been quite a lot when you had gone to bed the previous night, but not this much. The kitchen wasn’t visible from the top of the stairs, but the coffee maker was still on. Where did all this hair come from? It practically coated the floor. At this point, you just had to see what was going on, descending the stairs as quietly as possible and pointing the bear spray in the direction of the noise, not sure what to expect… but whatever you might have been expecting, this wasn’t it. The can fell from your hand, landing with a thud on the carpet as she turned to face you. “Oh, hey… thanks.” she said as you stared, her voice sounding tired and weak. The person that stood in your kitchen, wrapped in one of your blankets and, judging from the lack of any footwear, probably nothing underneath it, reached a shaking hand out from under the blanket and picked up a mug of what… wasn’t exactly coffee, but was more just her attempt at it. For a moment, you caught a glimpse of the bandages wrapped around her midsection, seemingly applied quite expertly but tied at one end as if she’d… shrunk after they were applied, leaving them loose-fitting. The crate that you’d put the wolf into was unlatched, the door left open, and every inch of the cushions inside covered with a thick layer of shed fur. “Got any clothes?” your brain had simply ceased to function, all your concepts of causality and rational thought shattered due to the sheer lack of any possible explanation of how she’d ended up in your house… or where the wolf had gone. 

“Who… I mean… why-- how are you here?” was all you could manage as your mind began to short-circuit for a number of reasons.

“You brought me here.” she said, taking a sip of her not-exactly-coffee and immediately regretting it. “Well… not like-- “here” as in the area, but like, into your house. That’s what I was thanking you for. You didn’t like… summon me or anything." She held up the mug. “I… is it supposed to taste like that? I’ve never actually had any before and I think I made it wrong.” slowly, you started to descend the staircase, walking through the piles of shed fur past the empty crate and into the kitchen. “Um… yeah. I-- I think you forgot to put a filter in the machine. That’s why it’s… wait, but you… how did…” she stared at you for a second, waiting for me to figure it out, even through the clear tiredness on her face, it was obviously visible that she was somewhat disappointed you hadn’t already realized. “Wait!” you shouted, all the puzzle pieces snapping together, but without much conscious certainty due to just how outside the box it was. “You… you were the wolf?” she grinned slightly, a sort of “now you’ve got it” expression as she turned back to the coffee machine and tried to get it to work.

“...right. “Werewolf,” “Lycan”, if you want to get scientific.... Whatever you want to call it. Now, I repeat m’ previous question about the clothes. Kind of freezing my knot off--”

“Then why are you walking around right now?” she was completely caught off guard by the fact that out of all the questions you could have asked, that was the one you started with. The worldview-shattering revelations of the nature of biology itself could wait. Your work wasn’t done. She didn’t try to argue as you led her over to the couch, the conversation having paused completely until she was lying down and you had made completely sure that she understood that she wasn’t supposed to get up again, then rushed off momentarily to get what medical supplies you hadn’t used the previous night.

“You’re handling this information surprisingly well.” she mumbled in between sips of the coffee that you had made as you carefully moved aside the blanket, unwrapping the bandages and sighing with relief upon seeing that not only had that bit of movement not damaged the stitches, but also however her transformation worked, it had kept them in the correct places. The medkit was put back on the shelf, and the bandages were cut into a length that fit her current form better. “Most people freak out.”

“Well,” you said, bringing over a second blanket and placing it on top of her, “that’s a disheartening number of people’s reaction to me, so… I kind of get it.” 

“Oh! You’re also…”

“Huh? No, I’m trans. Didn’t know werewolves were real until a few minutes ago.” she chuckled softly for a moment.

“That was what I meant. So am I.” you both laughed for a minute, (her with some difficulty, but with enough volume to reassure you that her lungs weren’t damaged.) “But similarities aside, usually werewolves turning out to be real takes a bit longer than that to process.”

“You’re my patient.” you said firmly. “Top priority was making sure you didn’t get hurt. Second priority, which is what I can focus on now, is figuring out all the werewolf stuff.” she pondered this for a bit, then spoke.

“Okay… so, what’s your first question?”

“How did it happen?” 

“So, Lycanthropy isn’t exactly… well-known. Real lycanthropy, I mean. They don’t teach you about it in school, or anything. However… As it turns out, we’re pretty good for the ecosystem. We fill a niche that’s been empty for a while, keep the deer population under control… so if you know where to look, sometimes you can find an organization that can turn you. I mean, don’t get me wrong, it sucks. The process, I mean, not the lycanthropy. Ten layers of bureaucracy in between you and actually scheduling your appointment, the crazy long wait time once you’ve actually got it scheduled, all the forms of ID you need to bring in case something goes wrong and they need to identify who it was that just ran into the forest never to be seen again… the actual initial turning isn’t as bad as all the warnings they make you read make it look,” she lowered the blanket around her shoulders, revealing a sizable bite scar. “But it’s not exactly a walk in the park, pun intended. It’s definitely worth it though, if turning is what you needed.” she didn’t seem to notice that you had been silent for a while, lost in thought. “Anyway, I’ve been doing pretty well ever since. It feels amazing, going out on a hunt when the weather’s nice. Can’t exactly go into detail on how it feels without getting a little weird, but I think you’d get it.”

“I think I do.” you said, “but… you should probably rest for a bit. We can pick up on this conversation later.” she nodded and shifted her position slightly. “Hey! Don’t scratch that!” 

One implied threat involving a cone later, you made your way back up the stairs. Even if there were plenty of parallels, processing all that information did take some time. “There is a werewolf on my couch” was one thing, but there was something about that whole exchange that made your mind race and your heart pound. Some reason beyond the surprise, beyond the shock to what you had previously believed, beyond the whole excitement of the encounter, hell, beyond even the fact that even though you hadn’t been consciously paying attention at the moment, you were pretty sure that your legs had started shaking when she’d said the word knot, an aspect of the whole encounter expanded on by the fact that it seemed werewolves did not carry their clothes with them when shifted. No, it was more than just that. Some part of it, some sneaking suspicion that prowled in the back of your mind, clawing like an animal in a cage at the walls of your subconscious, a desire you’d had. One you’d abandoned long ago because you’d thought that life didn’t work like that. An offhand daydream that now filled your mind with one suspicion, one question, now to nobody but yourself-- is it really that easy? Does it really work that well? That question you hadn’t let yourself ask for so long, ignored every time because it hurt to think about when your answer had been no. but… maybe. For now, it stayed as it had been. A sneaking suspicion, but now stronger. Maybe your previous answer was wrong.

Your patient, for the most part, did quite well over the next few weeks-- stayed on the couch, had plenty of appetite, and only whined a little bit when you changed the bandages-- you’d even managed to find some spare clothes for her, though you had to search a bit for some shirts that wouldn’t get stretched. Either lycanthropy made HRT more effective, or she’d been on it for way longer than you had. Only real challenge was that she tended to get lonely. You tried to keep things professional at first, of course, talking to her in your “speaking-to-clients” voice, and offering to move her to the couch in your office for a little extra privacy, but with just how frequently she’d asked you to watch movies with her or wait to make a request until you were just about to leave the house, you’d quickly realized that being professional was not at all what she needed. Even though she knew that she was going to be stuck on the couch for a while, even though she was supposed to just be your patient, all she really wanted was to just be seen as a roommate. You could tell in the way she tried to make small talk whenever you walked past-- how excited she always got when you found something to talk about. Screw “keeping things professional.” She needs someone to talk to.

“Wait…” she said one day as you prepared to make a trip to the store. “Can you get me--” 

“You can just say that you want me to stay for a bit longer” the statement caught both of you off guard, a small comment half out of frustration and half out of hope that she’d take you up on the offer. The room was silent for a second.

“Please?” she asked. Slowly, you walked over to the couch, sitting down on one end of it as she moved her legs out of the way. “I… so, you’ve…” she stammered, moving slightly until she was up against the back of the couch and clutching her pillow. “I was wondering--” with a sigh, you removed your coat, tossing it onto the coffee table and interrupting her request by fulfilling it. She exclaimed softly as you flopped down onto the couch next to her. Gingerly, she moved one hand up, out from under the blanket and placed it in yours. You could feel yourself start to blush as the two of you laced your fingers together, her hand slightly colder than yours but warming up quickly. It was nice-- a sort of soft, quiet confirmation, slowly expanded as you wrapped your arms around each other and you were pulled into a tight embrace. 

“Yeah, it’s okay.” you murmured as she held you, starting to… tremble slightly as you moved your hand in slow, gentle circles along her back. She was surprisingly strong for someone so injured, holding on so tight that you were pretty sure you couldn’t leave if you’d tried. “You’re… really touch-starved, aren’t you.” she nodded. One thing was certain, she had definitely needed this. 

After a minute her hands started to wander, tracing along your arms to all over your upper body, an exploration driven by the desire to know you, to memorize your shape, your scent, your warmth. Just thinking about it, that way she explored, immersing herself in a thousand sensations-- mapping out every part of you with a full sensory profile-- just that feeling was on a completely different level from and of the other times you’d spent a quiet afternoon with someone in this way. That she could understand. It honestly left you envious. How could someone be able to know anything like this? To learn of it in every aspect, the full complexity of something all laid out before them, that near-omniscience that you had searched for in every ecology class, every late night spent listening to the sounds of the forest, every time you had sprinted through the woods on a moonlit evening-- to just breathe deeply and find the truth of it, the nature of it. Beyond your limited human senses, looking down from the top of the trophic pyramid freely. 

“...thanks.” she said, letting her hands rest gently on the sides of your face. “Can I… tell you something?” of course. Of course she could. “I’m just-- feeling really alone. I’m… the only one in the state. Had to drive really far to be turned, even. that’s-- that’s not how it’s supposed to be. We’re not solitary creatures.” 

“Lycans?”

“People.”  she curled forward slightly, pressing her forehead into your collarbone. “Lycans, yes, but also just people. Running through the forest, being able to taste the entirety of nature in a single breath-- it’s amazing, but I… I don’t want to have to do it alone, it’s--” slowly, she relaxed her grip, looking up to face you. “It’s still kind of scary, going into the forest at night. It’s huge, wonderful, delicious, but… the first step out the door is still hard to make. I get scared, out there in the woods. I get scared and then-- and then I can’t shift right and I get slowed down and I get hurt." In her voice, you could just barely hear that tiredness that had been there when she had first arrived at your house, the exhaustion of being afraid, permeating through every other aspect of the words-- the sadness, the hope, even the fear itself. She was silent for a second, then leaned in, her face inches, then centimeters from your shoulder until finally she was close enough that you could feel the movement of her lips as she spoke. “May I?” yes. Please. Do it. That feeling, that warmth as you felt that gentle pressure moving across the side of your neck was enough to make your face feel hot, gasping softly as the kiss traveled upwards towards your face, tight and precise as you first felt it on your collarbone but gradually relaxing until you could feel her tongue running along your throat. Could she feel with her lips how fast your heart was pounding? Could she taste it? There was no possible chance of keeping hold of conscious thought as the flood of sensation rushed through your brain, just the desire was left, just the need for this to keep going. No way to contain the sounds that escaped as she bit down gently on your ear. You didn’t need to contain them anyway. 

“Am I doing good?” she asked playfully before sliding a hand around to the back of your head, pulling you closer again and putting your lips to hers. You couldn’t respond, of course, even if anything but moans could come out of your mouth at this point, you couldn’t say anything as the kiss deepened until your saliva was dripping down the side of your face onto the couch. You got your answer across just fine with how much your legs shook, though-- how tightly you squeezed her shoulder as you felt her other hand brush against your thigh. 

Eventually she pulled back, a single tendril of saliva between your blushing faces. You let out a quiet whine. She had stopped just when things were about to speed up.

“We should… probably wait a bit.” she said. “Full disclosure, sometimes I transform accidentally if I get too excited, and… well, I don’t want to tear these clothes you let me borrow, and you said no shifting until I’m fully healed.” 

“Yeah…” you replied disappointedly, slowly starting to cool down slightly. “You’re right. Don’t want to mess up the bandages.” you were both silent for a minute. “But… just wondering… would you have to stop if that happened?” she leaned forward again.

“That’s entirely up to you.” she whispered into your ear. Gradually, you sat up, making sure to keep holding onto her hand as you moved until her head was resting on your lap. You could feel your heartbeat and hers slow down, no longer as frantic as they had just been, leaving only a gentle sort of warmth that you could feel spreading from your fingertips throughout your body as you began to pet her head. You had one question, one request, that you needed to make. You decided to wait until she was in a state to fulfill it to ask. 

You’d suspected that your guest-- no, your roommate, healed a bit faster than average from the fact that she had been able to walk around (probably shouldn’t have, though) immediately after waking up on the first morning, but this suspicion was quickly confirmed as one day while changing the bandages you had noticed that one of the wounds had closed completely. Maybe it was the lycanthropy, maybe the injuries were never as bad as you had thought they were, or maybe some combination of the two plus the fact that she had something to look forward to once she was completely healed. Whatever the reason, the stitches were out barely a month after you’d put them in and almost immediately afterwards, it had gone from her not being allowed to walk to you not being able to for half the day. You’d thought about it for quite some time, of course-- long before you’d even known that werewolves were real-- but fantasizing about it was simply not on the same level as actually feeling the muscles and bones inside the hand that was holding onto your shoulder twist and snap, nails growing into claws as she shifted halfway through, each sensation changing slightly-- hearing the hot breath against the back of your neck turn to canine panting, feeling as newly sprouted fur brushed back and forth against your skin with each movement-- and then that moment after as she changes back, looking at you expectantly with that expression on her face that could not possibly better convey the question of “did I do good?”, waiting eagerly for you to regain your senses enough to answer. Every moment was laced with that question, the one that had gnawed at the edges of your mind since the first morning-- that desire to keep up, to be on her level, that envy for lack of a better word. At the moment, you couldn’t help but feel somewhat like a chew toy at best, not that you particularly minded. Those weeks and eventually months after she had healed were by far some of the best in your life, understanding what she had meant as your long walks at night became better with company. It still felt like just a walk. She couldn’t exactly hunt that effectively with your human footsteps making so much noise, but she had said it was fine. It didn't feel fine, though, not for lack of the excursions’ quality, but because watching her run circles around you in the moonlight, ducking under low branches and weaving through the trees as if she was swimming through the forest reminded you of what you weren’t.

Or rather, what you weren’t yet. 

“Can I ask you for something?” you said one day as you returned from a morning walk. “It’s… I’m not entirely sure if you could, and I’m definitely not sure that it’s entirely legal, but…” She leapt onto the couch, landing in human form and looking at you, confused but intrigued. You took a deep breath, then asked, the question tearing through its cage into your conscious mind as the words formed on your tongue after too long spent waiting to be said. It felt good to finally say them. She smiled when she heard it, as if she had been waiting for you to ask-- hoping that you would finally request that she do this for you. Four words-- that’s all it was. Four words were all you needed. Described all you needed. Compressed that desire, that need to know the nature of the forest, to know her-- all into one question.

“Can you turn me?”

She grinned, standing and walking towards you before suddenly pulling you close and kissing you. Over the time you’d known her, you’d learned that kisses could say things-- so much potential for all sorts of emotions to be woven into the passion. You could read this one clearly in the warm, gentle sigh right before contact, the sense of relief felt in every moment of it, that slight hunger to it-- 

“Of course~” she said, her face still inches from yours. “I could do it tonight, if you want… I’ll need to prepare you a bit for it-- your room as well. It’s quite an… Involved process.” you nodded, almost frantically, your heart pounding in anticipation. “Good!” she reached up and patted you on the head. “Can’t wait.” She turned and walked up the stairs to your room, pulling the blankets from your bed and piling them in the corner. 

“You didn’t seem surprised when I asked.” you stated as you followed close behind, helping set up your room as she directed. 

“Oh, please.” she tossed the towels she had just retrieved onto the now-empty bed and slid over to you, placing a hand on your chin and staring directly into your eyes. That look on her face made you wonder if she was about to sink her teeth into you then and there. “In all that time I’ve been a werewolf-- hell, in all the time I’ve known they existed and probably even before then-- I have never seen anyone who needed this more than you. I could tell from the way you asked how I became like this.” your face had immediately turned bright red. At first, you had thought that part of the excitement of this relationship was in some part due to the novelty, but that notion was quickly disproven as the days turned to weeks and her ability to set your heart pounding with just a few words had not diminished at all. The two of you continued to prepare the room, removing any breakable objects from it as well as “anything you don’t want getting stained.” she wasn’t exactly specific, but while she said that your posters probably wouldn’t be at risk, it was probably best to take them down temporarily, as apparently you could never tell for sure what might be in the “splash zone.” an average person likely would have been somewhat put off by the vagueness or lack thereof of what exactly the experience would entail, but an average person probably wouldn’t have invited a werewolf into their house, and definitely wouldn’t have upgraded the nature of that invitation upon deeming said werewolf healed up enough to accept. The average person didn’t need this like you did, though. Like both of you did. They didn’t feel that frustration, stuck between barely seeing anything and seeing nothing beyond the range of some horrible light as the only means of experiencing the dark. They didn’t feel the need to breathe in the cold night air like you did, to tear into the nature of things, cracking open bones to drink the truth of the forest from inside. They did not care about the question of “what am I?” and even if they did, they did not come to the conclusion of “not this. No, I am more. Should be more. I’ve been working on it, but I’m not done yet.” 

You shivered slightly as you felt the cold air on your skin, your cheapest towels feeling itchy against your legs as you knelt in the center of the bed, arms by your sides. All you’d been able to do was wait once you’d finished setting up the room. You couldn’t focus on anything else with what you knew would happen in just a few hours, and once the sun had gone down you’d practically rushed through the final preparations-- open all the doors from the porch to your room, make sure you were only wearing clothes that you were okay with being shredded, which did not describe any clothes you owned. You regretted your decision to not find any sacrificial clothing  slightly, not expecting how chilly you would get, but apparently once it started, you’d be heating up really fast and would probably just be out of them pretty soon anyway. The room was dark, with the only light coming from the moon through the window. you stared at it absentmindedly.

“So… what are the towels for?” you asked as she paced around, performing a few final checks and making sure said towels covered the mattress completely. You had been so caught up in the excitement of anticipation that you hadn’t quite asked that much about what exactly the process would entail, not that anything anyone would have said could possibly have stopped you from wanting to do this. She reached over, gently lifting your arm and running a single finger from your shoulder down to your hand. 

“This process isn’t any more clean than it is painless.” she said, moving her hand back up and lightly squeezing different parts of your arm and shoulder, as if trying to find the softest part. “When I had it done, I ended up bleeding from my pores. All over. Bones might end up breaking the skin too, but it’ll heal in a few minutes, and next time you shift everything will know exactly where to go.” it felt nice, somehow-- hearing that last part.-- “next time you shift.” you weren’t just hearing her talk about it now. Now you were part of it-- this side, this aspect of the world. You hadn’t even noticed how separate you had felt from it before, how separate even from the concept of yourself you had been. This is who I am. It was almost strange to think about how meaningless to you the word “I” had been until now-- like snapping out of a daydream, only this was you reentering the present-- your sense of self coming back into focus with your consciousness-- for the first time. The air seemed much more crisp already as you leaned back and she began to gently probe your chest and stomach, one of which was already feeling slightly sore from your other journey towards gaining a body that is truly your own, (which you were quite proud of your recent progress in, though the clothes you’d just bought to compliment it were currently lying in the hallway) and the other because on her suggestion, you’d skipped dinner. “We’ll be finding ourselves some dinner out tonight.” she had said earlier. 

You sat up, returning to your kneeling position as she stepped back and leaned forward into a deep stretch before pulling off her shirt and tossing it into the hallway. “Ready?” you asked excitedly. She gave a short nod. Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes, letting your arms rest limply at your sides again, relaxing every muscle as much as you could as she gently patted your head. 

“It’s going to hurt.” she said. “But also… so does everything else, really. No avoiding it if you want to live any real life. Believe me, it’s not easy to take the first step off the porch, and that gets more true the darker the forest is. Yeah, parts of it will suck. Parts of it will make you feel like you’re getting torn apart and that you can’t be sure of anything. Hell, parts of it might make you regret it for a second-- make you think that it wasn’t worth it.” she let out a brief sigh before continuing. “But just remember…” you felt her hand slide down from the top of your head to the side of your face and opened your eyes just a bit to see her staring intensely. “That you’re alive, and all that it entails. Things hurt. Things change. You lose people and you find others. Sometimes it's so dark that you wouldn’t be able to see anything without changing, and sometimes you might find one night that you’ve changed and now you can see the whole forest clearer than ever. It’s going to hurt, but… every second is going to feel amazing.” in the dim light, you could see that she was crying slightly. “That’s-- that’s what it is to be alive. That’s what it means to be you. To finally become yourself. The sheer exhilaration of change. It’s the best thing I’ve ever felt, and sometimes there’s been pain along the way, but don’t let anyone tell you it’s not worth it.” she took a deep breath before stepping back once more. “Alright, that’s enough hype. Let’s do this.” You could see a soft smile on her face before you closed your eyes again, focusing on your breathing as you heard the familiar sound of flesh and bones twisting and warping in front of the bed before that heavy thud as paws hit the ground. Then, from where she stood came a long howl. The sound of it carried that same excitement as you had felt on every long night, every moonlit walk, the same anticipation as you’d had that night, just about to leave the house right before the encounter that changed your perception of what you were allowed to be. 

Your heart almost skipped a beat as the large shape before you lept from the floor and landed heavily on the bed in front of you, nearly pitching you forward as her weight pressed into the mattress. You could feel each step she took towards you, one foot, then the other, then the other, then the other until finally you could feel the heat of her breath and the pressure of her front leg on your thigh, claws digging into your skin sightly as she leaned in close enough to taste you. The anticipation was far more excruciating. You flinched as you felt a cold, wet nose against your chest, stationary for a moment before beginning to travel, exploring every inch of you with each inhalation. You knew that she’d already decided on where to bite. Same place she’d had it, same place every voluntary lycan probably had it. Maybe she was just teasing a bit, knowing how it made you blush whenever she explored you like this-- how much it set your heart pounding just thinking about how close her teeth and tongue were to your skin. That, or maybe she was just taking in your pre-turning scent one last time as a sort of “before picture” so that she could see afterwards how much you’d evolved. Finally, you felt as she moved up, standing at her full height over you as you trembled with anticipation, adrenaline, and who knows what else, opening her mouth and running that huge tongue across your collarbone, saliva coating your shoulder and dripping down onto your legs. Focus on your breathing. There wasn’t anything else to do, really, as she leaned forward and gently but hungrily slid her jaws over your shoulder, making sure everything was lined up perfectly, shifting slightly to right between your shoulder and your neck. You could feel the slight pressure of each tooth against your skin, just light enough at first to let you know where they were, where they were going to pierce. She was large enough when shifted that the front teeth on her upper jaw were almost below your shoulder blade.

Slowly, the pressure increased, gradually enough to give you time to take a deep breath first, to grip the towels you sat on so tightly that your knuckles turned white as she began to bite down, feeling it start to hurt, barely noticeable at first but but increasing in intensity until you had to grit your teeth. The seconds seemed to last forever as you waited. 

It didn’t hurt as much as you’d expected as you felt each tooth sink into you, waves of pain shooting through your entire body as they pierced through skin and fat until they dug between the fibers of your muscles themselves. They punctured through soft and yielding flesh seemingly one by one, the longer ones first, sinking deeper into you with every other tooth that broke the skin until you felt molars scraping directly against your collarbone, threatening to snap it in two. It was only half a second of that intense pain until you felt it-- that other feeling, seeping into your shoulder gradually at first, almost indistinguishable from the warmth of the blood starting to ooze from around each still-embedded tooth. Not pain, not numbness-- clarity. You could feel the texture of her teeth through the pain, her saliva soaking into your bloodstream, even the wind on your skin you could feel more clearly than ever before. Another half second passed, then it accelerated, that feeling surging through you, setting every nerve on fire with the sheer amount of sensation that ran through them. It felt like you never felt anything before then, like all your senses had been dulled for your entire life up until that moment. Not the first time you’d felt something like this, but definitely the most intense. You threw back your head and let out a sound halfway between a moan and a scream, your brain filling with so much of this feeling that you could barely even think about the pain.

The feeling soon passed, not gone but settled, as if it had simply soaked into you. You could still feel it, but not as intensely as when it had flooded through you just a second earlier. Gently, she relaxed her hold on you, teeth sliding out of your flesh as blood began to flow from the wounds, running down your body in rivulets and onto the towels. She gingerly ran her tongue along the bite mark, licking off the blood as much as she could as she shifted slowly until it was the lips of her human form that you felt.

“You can open your eyes now.” she said. The moonlight seemed so bright even through your eyelids now, you’d almost forgotten they were closed. She smiled warmly at you, mouth still stained red. “You did really good. How did it feel?” you struggled for a second to remember how to speak.

“...amazing.” you stammered. You couldn’t even begin to describe it, that way your mind had filled with so much of your senses that your consciousness had barely been able to keep up. Your hands were shaking slightly as you reached up to wipe the blood from her face, almost recoiling when you felt how intensely you were now able to feel the warmth of her skin. She patted your head.

“I knew you’d enjoy it. Can you still feel it?” you nodded. “Is it starting to heat up yet?” as you concentrated, you could feel the warmth around the bite starting to intensify. It spread through your body more slowly than that feeling had, a simple increase in temperature as your body detected something that it didn’t want there. Each muscle seemed to tighten until you could barely move your shoulder and the knowledge that something was happening began to seep into the back of your mind. You nodded again, and she seemed almost surprised. “It’s starting already?” she said as she reached behind you and straightened the towels on the mattress. “Wow, okay… thought you’d have a bit more time to catch your breath, but… just lie back. The more hands-on part’s done. You can let your body take it from here.”

With her help you managed to lie down, the wounds on your back sticking uncomfortably to the towels as your shoulder started to feel painfully hot. She leaned over you and stared directly into your eyes before she spoke.

“The initial shift’s about to happen.” she whispered, squeezing your hand. “I can’t really say for certain what it’ll be like for you, but… I think you’re going to do great and it’s going to feel great. I’m here if you need me.” you looked up at her and smiled.

“I really wish I’d known you back when I was starting my transition.” you said. “Would have been a lot easier.”

Slowly, a dull ache began to permeate through you, starting in each joint and spreading quickly outward until every part of you felt sore and tender. You wanted to stretch, but somehow you already knew that it wouldn’t help. This part is just going to suck for a bit. The pain didn’t turn sharp immediately-- It didn’t instantly give way to the twisting and snapping you’d seen in each of her transformations-- it just got louder as you curled up as tightly as you could, trying to keep your focus on the sensation of her fingers gently pressing into your back, providing some small relief from the soreness. She knew what this felt like. The pain never seemed to reach your mind, though. It didn’t cloud your thoughts like you’d initially expected it to. When you’d first felt it creeping into your muscles, you’d thought that it would only be a few minutes before you were a quivering mess, unable to concentrate on anything but how much it hurt, but… you didn’t give it the satisfaction. Even as it started to get so bad that you began to toss and turn, whimpering almost involuntarily as your whole body felt like it was filled with needles, it never felt to you like anything more than an annoyance. Yeah, it hurt. Like no cramp or pulled muscle ever had before, but you didn’t care. You didn’t care because this wasn’t just pain. There was a reason for it, one that you agreed with so you didn’t care if there was a bit of soreness in the way. You sat up and hugged her tightly. So what if it hurts. You thought. It’s worth it, because even if I- WAIT, WHAT THE-- you fell backwards as you felt it, that sudden jolt that surged through you, muscles twitching as it hit. You heart was pounding, mind racing, entire body shaking as you felt things begin to move beneath you skin. The warmup was over. It was time for the main event.

As the sounds of the night began to come alive just outside the window, every part of you felt like it was folding in on itself and it felt wonderful, each breath sending a pulse of elation though you as your ribs started to warp. What had you expected? Did it even matter? No. no it did not, because nothing your before-self could have imagined could ever compare. Could not compare to the feeling of muscles severing and reattaching themselves, of the flesh of your fingers fusing together as dead skin fell from your fingertips, new cells coating them with a rough paw pad, of the structure of your jaw snapping under the sheer force of its own growth before being pulled back together as your teeth began to lengthen. Nothing could compare to just how alive it made you feel. Each second felt more right than the last, each bone setting itself into its new position feeling like it was always meant to go there, skin itching right up until the moment that fur began to sprout from it-- and something else. Something that you felt as strongly as any physical change, racing freely through both your body and mind as each second twisted them together until there was barely any distinction between the two. Something that you could hear even as your ears moved from their former positions to the top of your gradually elongating skull. Something you tried to put into words, but all that came out was a howl that expressed it better than any language ever could have.

It’s you. Finally, all of it-- all of yourself. It’s you. 

The moonlight tasted clearer on the tongue of what you were than the human you would have died as otherwise, each breath carrying a symphony of scents. The night itself seemed to be what drifted up from the open door downstairs, everything you’d stayed up late pondering now as tangible to you as the floor beneath your feet as you rose shakily from the bed, fur soaked with your own blood and tail wagging like it was the first time you’d ever actually been able to express happiness. She followed shortly after, leaping from the bed with two legs and landing with four, circling around you excitedly. You laid down for a second, letting her explore you as she’d done dozens of times before, licking the blood off half just to know what you tasted like now. 

You rose to your feet and together, descended the staircase and stepped out onto the porch. You’d never thought of the night as empty. Cold, yes-- painfully out of reach, but not empty. Content with the knowledge that it was alive, even if you couldn’t see it. You had thought you were content with it, at least. Feeling the night like this now, every sense telling you all the information that was now within reach, leaping from the porch and sprinting with her into the forest made you realize retroactively that just knowing what you were missing was not enough.The euphoria that came from that night, running through the dark in which you could now see, being a part of it, was as wonderful as the first time you’d worn clothes that made you realize the meaning of the word. Singing in long, single notes that could be heard for miles, no longer simply pondering the mysteries of the forest at night but being one of them. A sound in the symphony for all to hear. For others to ponder themselves and maybe, just maybe, to follow if they allowed themselves to open the door.

[evangelineenjoysdaisuke]

WHO TFK IS THIS GUY?

Daisuke x F!reader

Warning: language, eventual smut, jimmy and everything that comes with him (lol). y/n smokes weed!!

a/n: y/n is a therapist on the tulpar! (not my original idea, @/-Mairibby on wattpad) the fic series wont be mainly about y/n and daisuke, its more about everyone, but daisuke and y/n get together eventually, yk? things may or may not go on plot due to me not giving a fuck lol. remember that this is from y/n's point of view, so not everything she says or thinks will be correct. but this fic is mostly getting familiar with the dynamics between y/n and the others, enjoy! ALL OF MY CONTENT IS FOR ALL READERS. PERIOD. EVERYONE IS SAFE HERE!

PT 1.

You were afraid of heights and elevators…so what the fuck are you doing in space? You questioned, looking at yourself in the restroom, and looking down at your scratchy material uniform…pony express…yay. Only a year left, bigger yay.

You were the only girl aside from anya on the ship, which didn't bother you much. You were known for keeping things positive and whomever you had a conversation with, it would always end in a laugh. So you went on ship as a newly licensed therapist. After graduating college, you'd come across a flyer stuck on a light post with a cute pony on it. You said hm, then in a week, you started your new job.

You didn't know any of these people, really. Curly, the captain, Jimmy, sketchy dark guy..usually your type, but co-captain. Anya, the nurse, Swansea, the mechanic, and daisuke, the idiot intern. Things are going smoothly, the food wasn't your favorite but there wasn't anything salt and pepper can't fix (god, you wish you had cajun seasoning. You made a mental note to bring some next time) you managed to smuggle your weed pen and a zip, knowing in order to be the best therapist you can be you have to be the least stressed. You hid it under your pillow, they make comments about the smell and know someones carrying it between all of you, but can't find it. They point fingers at daisuke, but don't attack him since they cant confirm it.

If anyone needed to be attacked, it was Jimmy, the nasty cigs that laid between his lips as you all sat around the table playing card games or just simply talking, the smell was louder than Swansea playing a game of poker. You didn't know why you paid so much attention to him, his aura was alluring. You liked how dirty he looked, like he has no shame. But there was just something….off. Like he isn't fit to be co-captain, but he never gave you a reason or showed why he shouldn't be.

Conversations with curly were light, conversations with him were easy. He's a good man, takes responsibility. You make sure to let him know. Only lord knows what would happen if he started doubting himself, and no one wants to even take the risk.

You sigh and collect yourself, take a long hit of your weed pen and walk to the lounge. Picking up the clipboard to do evaluations. You and Anya switched off time and time. She discussed with you that she felt like she was here for no reason with nothing to do, she wanted to feel needed and like she was part of the crew. It didn't matter to you, though. Not like she gets part of your cut.

Looking around and seeing everyone, you'd wonder who would be your first victim. They all equally hated the evals, only being cooperative because Cap says so. You wince your eyes and see who's less busy. The side of your lips turn up and you look at swansea. You walk towards him, and it's almost as if you're his 6th sense, you can see how disinterested he is and it was really obvious when he rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. It made you laugh.

“When are you going to register in your head that I am too old to be going crazy on a ship, y/n. These aren't-” “necessary, i heard you the first time..and all the other times. But protocol is protocol, relax, okay?” you sat in front of him on the couch and he lifted his head to look at you. “Have you been able to complete your mandated tasks as a mechanic efficiently and to your fullest capacity?” your eyes lifted from the clipboard. “The ship hasn't broken down has-” “swansea” you cut him off and sharpen your eyes. “Do you need me to-” “yeah yeah- i got it. Yes i have” you chuckle at his response and drop your clipboard in your lap. “You know that you make this 10 times harder and longer? Or do you just like giving me a hard time?”

“Honestly both, I try to get as many minutes away from daisuke. He makes the vein in my forehead pop out” you laugh at that and point at him with your black pen, “now we're getting somewhere” you cross your legs and continue the eval until it's over. Swansea reminded you of a bitter grandpa but secretly wants to see you succeed. You see how he cares for daisuke, even when he cusses him out. He cares enough to cuss him out. It's something to admire from afar.

Daisuke and swansea were the best duo in here. Curly and jimmy were kinda boring considering it was the grumpy x sunshine trope. You just wondered how jimmy had so much…power. Though he was co-captain, whenever he had a conversation with anyone, it's almost as if they just let him do what he wants to without consequence, like he's a toddler. You see how Anya instantly lowers her head and just submits to him, but you haven't asked or said anything, not only because it's not your place, but also since Anya just doesn't really talk to you.

You took note of how you've caught her watching from afar. You didn't wanna label her as envious, she was just shy, while you laughed and fit right in. you didnt want to feel bad for anya, it's not what she deserves. You'd wish she'd just put herself out there more and know that she's safe with you, and you wanted a bond with her- absolutely, but there was some kind of tension that you just couldn't grasp on.

She also had a conversation with you about how she didn't feel comfortable doing evaluations with jimmy. She told you about the disturbing comments he makes, and asked if he told you them to. He did. But most of the time you're too high to even pay attention to what he's talking about and end up just labeling good on all of them. Anya ended up furrowing her eyebrows and just walking away, you watched as she did so, she covered her face and her posture lowered. She cried.

“Daisuke! Eval. Are you ready?” you smiled and walked into the sleeping quarters. “Ah!” he exclaimed, fixing his pillow before fluffing his hair and standing up with an awkward smile on his face. “Uh..yeah sure” he said. You smiled and lifted your eyebrows “i thought i was the only one hiding things on this ship” “you are” “ha, ha” you tilted your head, “we can sit on my bed and do it, if you wanna” he offers, you let out a hum and say okay before sitting on the bed, your knees touching but you didn't put too much mind into it.

You dropped the clipboard on the side of the bed and he furrowed his eyebrows and gave you a puzzled look. “Aren't you gonna ask me questions?” “I'm starting to feel like it's just not needed. Not saying your not important or anything, but you are an intern. What tasks do you really have?” you let out a laugh, but looking at daisuke, he didn't like your answer. It was actually very clear he took offense to it. You bit your lower lip and crossed your legs, no longer touching knees with him. You clear your throat and widen your eyes for a split second before raising the clipboard. “Have you been able to do your mandated tasks as intern?” an awkward wide smile on your lips. “And what mandated tasks do i have?” he said. Petty. You thought, you let out a breath, “im sorry, daisuke. I apologize, I didn't mean it like that. Please forgive me”

“Show me what you're hiding,” he said, out of the blue. You give him a puzzled look. “How is that an even trade? I made a comment. We get outta here in a year, you'll lose track of time and forget it in 3 days. What I'm hiding can get me in trouble for the rest of my life ""do i look like a snitch to you?” he crossed his arms, you laughed, “Fine”. To that he smiled, you stood and went to your spot, lifting the pillow and revealing the goods.

He bit his lip and looked at you before squinting his eyes. “So you really fucking hate me, huh?” you cock your head back at his comment, confused you look at him, silently signalling for him to elaborate. “First you say I'm useless here, and now I found out that you're the one carrying the weed on the tulpar and they've been saying slick stuff to me. Wow, y/n. You're an asshole” he laughs. “Shit..fuck, youre right. Im sorry” you felt like a complete bully and an idiot, you put your palm on your face to hide your embarrassment. He shook his head, “you at least gonna share? The least you could do” he let out a small laugh, in an instinct you pulled out your pen and gave it to him, avoiding eye contact. “How does this even work?” he asked, holding it up and scanning it.

“You're joking…rich kid, I imagine you have all the friends in the world and have parties, and possibly have done something worse than this” he glared at your sentence, but you scooted closer to him and held the hand that was sticking up the pen. It was pink and bedazzled, “see this button right here? Press it while you suck- or breathe in whatever from here” you said, before looking back at him. He nodded his head and bit his lip, you let go and allowed him to take a hit from the pen. He awkwardly pulls it up to his lips, you watched as he wrapped his lips around it, silently cursing to himself in regret, not because he was taking a hit, but because he wrapped his lips on it not around it. The wetness from his mouth from the lord knows where is now on your pen that you will continue to hit. Not that you minded, his lips were soft and pink, he carried around a coca-cola flavored chapstick and used it, mostly when he was nervous.

You cocked your head to the side and watched him take the hit. “Dont kill yourself” you laugh, pulling it slowly from his lips. He immediately coughs, and you groan to see the wasted hybrid smoke enter the air, you sigh and wave so it disappears. “You gotta work on that” you mutter as he dies, falling over onto your pallet and banging the floor, his mouth open as he coughs. You laugh and pat his back, trying to help him out. He collects himself, “what the hell is going on?” curly asks, stepping in, your eyes widen and you cover the stash with the pillow before turning back to the captain.

“Choking on his spit, ha, you know how daisuke is” you do an innocent smile and he squints his eyes looking at daisuke. He only raises a thumb and scratches the back of his head. “Swansea said he wants to show you how to fix the vent, and if you make him wait any longer he's gonna ignore you for a month straight” “that's my cue, see you y/n. And I forgive you” he smiles and stands, walking past curly.

Curly eyes you, “done jimmy yet?”. “Don't think I want to, maybe you should?” “Of course” you smile at his acceptance, and hand him the clipboard as he walks to you. “Thank you cap, you're the best” you say with a genuine smile, he only smiles back before walking away. Everyone was doing their only thing so you decided to lay off and keep your pen and your copy of “Interview With The Vampire” by Anne Rice from some company.