#or one prompt for multiple fics

[theangelcatalogue]

❝ Have you ever died in a nightmare? Woke up surprised you hadn’t earned your fate? ❞ ― YANDERE X MEN X DREAM INTERPRETER!DARLING

→ X MEN EVOLUTION

→ PLATONIC/ROMANTIC

→ GENDER NEUTRAL READER

→ TW: IMPLIED NIGHTMARES, IMPLIED MURDER, BULLYING, IMPLIED HALLUCINATIONS, POSSIBLE MENTAL HEALTHY MOCKING, SWEARING, OVERPROTECTIVE BEHAVIOR , BAD GRAMMAR, BAD ENGLISH AND MADE BY A MINOR! IF YOU ARE UNCOMFORTABLE, FEEL FREE TO LEAVE! PLEASE TELL IF I FORGOT SOMETHING! IF YOU FEEL UNCOMFORTABLE, FELL FREE TO LEAVE! I HOPE YOU ENJOY (´• ω •`) ♡

❝ Have you ever felt like Atlas, threw your back out on the axis... ❞

— ⠀Third person

A dream interpreter, that's what you were, basically, your mutation consisted of controlling, entering and experiencing other people dreams, you discovered when you accidentally transformed your neighbor's kid dream in a nightmare while babysitting them, silly you.

And that happened until you realized that you were the problem. You also could do that with your own dreams, well, that was bad because there was one little problem...

You could hurt yourself in your dreams, one day you dreamed you were drowning, just to wake up soaking wet, or like when you dreamed you were bitten by an animal, just to wake up with a bite mark, bleeding, in your arm.

It took a few time to Professor found you, asking you about your experience, it was hell for you, you could control your dreams? Yes. You knew how to do that? No. Did you almost die in these dreams and nightmares? Yes.

He also asked your father about this, talking about how the institute would be an amazing experience, where you would stay with teenagers like you, and help you control your abilities.

Your father was hesitant, his only kid, away from him? After hesitating, he agreed, not before talking about your problems to the Professor, warning him to have patience with you.

" Please just be patience with they... they have these hallucinations, and they can hurt themselves in these dreams, and- "

" There is no need to worry, sir, we will take care of them. They are in good hands. "

Well, technically, you were in good hands, all of them tried to do be your friends and thought your power as rather different (Kurt and Evan asked you to interpret the dumbest dreams ever.)

They were very patience with you, or tried to be, and they were very, very protectives. It could be suffocating, so you tried to not tell them what happened so they wouldn't worry.

Your power had another problems, sometimes, you can hallucinate with things and creatures from your dreams, but the most recent and common ones are from your nightmares. You aren't sure if they are real or your imagination, but how you were the only one that could see them...

And this made you pass for many problems and situations at all, some classmates would have patience with you, some would find you weird, and others would be... downright mean and bullies.

" Come on, freak! Tell me what you're saying! It's another scary clown?, " Ram mocked, arms crossed, looking at you with like a total idiot. He is your main bully, he thought he was so funny, like this 'joke' wasn't made before.

" Yeah, it's a clown, the dumbest one i have ever seen in my entire life. " You responded him bluntly, you already were feed up of him at this point, why couldn't he just leave you alone? He has nothing better than to do? Like, smacking lunch trays? Or be a huge dick— Oh wait, he already is that.

It took him a while to understand you were talking about him, that he was a clown, that guy was really dumb. His face darkened with pure annoyance at you.

" Well, at least i'm not an insane freak! How did your parents didn't leave you when they had a chance? How do your friends even support your presence? " He scoffs.

" You are so right! But you know? I have to go. " You said, closing your locker, preparing to walk away, he really thinks he is offending you, sure it still hurts, but crying or fighting him wouldn't make this better, it would only make his ego get worse. So you just decided to agree and leave, hoping he wouldn't do anything.

However, you felt him grabbing you by your shoulders, making you look at him again, he was pissed off you were walking away, he grabs you by your jacket and press you in the lockers. Preparing to punch you.

" Who said you could just walk away from me? Your little piece of shit- "

" What's happening here? "

You hear a familiar voice, you and Ram turn your head to see a familiar figure, your hero... or your military general:

Scott Summers.

" Let them go. Before i do something you won't like. " Scott said to Ram, while crossing his arms, if looks could kill, Ram would be dead right now. I mean, you couldn't know because of the glasses, but you felt that he was giving him a death glare to Ram, you just knewn that.

Ram lets you go, not before sending you a " This isn't over. " look, he walks away, leaving you and Scott alone in the hallway.

You turn your head to look at Scott, the good thing is that you're safe from Ram... the bad? Having to listen to Scott giving you a whole speech about how you should ask them help in moments like this. This is the safiest option, actually.

" Who was that? "

" Ram Kelly. "

" Ram Kelly..., " He repeated, you could feel something weird in his tone, something that caused shivers in your spine. " And... he picks on you daily? "

You didn't know how to respond to that question, yes, Ram did that daily, it was part of your routine at this point. But if you tell Scott that, he will realize you are hiding things from him and the other X-mens.

" I will consider your silence as a yes., " He sighs, obviously disappointed with you. " Y/N, we already told you... if someone is messing with you, you need to tell us. " He advised you, he and the others have told you that many times.

" I know, i know! Sorry... i don't want you guys to worry, my problems, my deal. " You responded him, and it was truth, you already worry them enough with your nightmares, creams and bruises in the middle of the night, you don't want to bother them with some stupid school problems.

Before he could say anything to you, the bells rang, you rushed to your class, not wanting to be late, but also not wanting to hear Scott's possible scolding.

" We want to worry... " Scott mumbled to himself, observing you rush away, before going to his own class.

" Ugh! This guy is so disgusting! Now i'm feeling weird because of that... " Rogue complained after touching Ram, making him faint.

" Don't worry, i will be worth it! " Kurt responds her, while Scott looks at Ram's body.

" It is. " Scott said, before taking his glasses off, in direction to Ram's head.

★- AND COLLAPSED AND THREW THE PLANET AWAY?

★ FINALLY POSTED A NEW ONE SHOT YAY

★ I love x men evolution so much

★ How are u guys?? Hope you all doing well!

★ Silly Oona gif

[oflights]

Happy pride! For the drarry slice-of-life prompts, might I suggest: Harry in [whatever the first job you ever wanted to have when you grew up was] and a meetcute-at-work?

hi!! thank you!

so my mind immediately went to "marine biologist harry" because like, i was a 90s kid! of course i wanted to be a marine biologist! which then got me thinking of interesting ways to make draco meet marine biologist harry, which got me thinking of beluga whale animagus draco???? (because i was all about whales as a kid, that was the whole point of it for me.)

anyway. that's what this is? why is it 1.1k words again? who can say, i sure can't. happy pride 🌈🐳

Draco doesn’t expect to see Harry Potter while swimming in the chilly, salty depths of the St. Lawrence River.

Work had taken Draco to Montreal, and he’d booked the extra Portkeys to Quebec City and then Tadoussac without a second thought. Draco so rarely gets a chance to change into his Animagus form in an actually suitable environment, and he’s changed here before; this particular pod of beluga whales is incredibly friendly and welcoming even for his short visits, and so he’s been looking forward to this for months.

Until now, it had been all about getting into the water: making sure local friends have his coordinates in case something goes wrong; casting the proper Disillusionment Charms so no one notices a random blond nutter jumping into the river alone; letting the cold wash over his magic-warmed body for a few suspended moments, until he relaxes into the transformation and lets that magic overtake everything else.

That first moment of transformation—so freeing, so unique, nothing like Draco ever feels on land—always goes a long way to soothing the disappointment he’d felt when he’d first managed to become an Animagus.

He’d known it would be something aquatic; he’d felt drawn to the sea throughout the whole process. Even so, transforming into a beluga whale had not been expected, and after the initial sense of accomplishment, basking a little in all his friends’ delight and amusement, it had struck how difficult it would be to find opportunities to transform.

Draco had adjusted his travel plans and work trips to become colder and more Arctic, but he’d quickly learned how social whales are, and how intolerable they find it to be alone. So it became more about finding other belugas to swim with, to communicate with. Chancing upon this pod had been a stroke of luck, and Draco has missed them.

He could hear them as a human on the shore, high-pitched and soft and wailing, but it’s different as a whale. Hefeelstheir call within him like this, loses himself in it, revels in the sensation of immersive belonging he’s rarely felt before.

In moments like these, Draco loves being a beluga Animagus. It’s all worth it.

And then he sees Harry Potter.

It’s not so strange to see a team of marine biologists on the St. Lawrence. There’s a good amount of marine life here, not to mention the colony of merpeople that lives around the Saguenay Fjord that could explain the presence of magic folk. What’s really strange is that this team includes Harry Potter, not someone Draco would ever have expected to find halfway around the world from home.

Potter is dressed like he might be a marine biologist, which is ridiculous—Draco is certain he’d read that Potter had gone to work with dragons. He’s leaning over the railing of the small observation deck of his boat, dark hair blown wild and glittering with salt spray, radiating Warming Charms, grinning broadly at the friendly belugas streaming through the waters around them.

As Draco watches, still dumbfounded, Potter raises his wand and Conjures large, shiny bubbles, setting them to float over the water and delighting the belugas, who pop them with excited squeals, splashing happily as he Conjures more.

A few of the other members of the pod seem to sense Draco’s frozen disbelief and translate it as distress, swimming over to nudge him gently with their rounded heads, bonking him carefully on his flank. The movement draws the attention of Potter, who smiles at him in a way that Harry Potter has certainly never, not once, smiled at him before.

Draco has a rush of feelings that don’t entirely fit in the water. There’s old resentment, annoyance, a break of his peace—in his whale form, in the perfect, embracing cold, that all seems silly, wasteful. It’s easy to translate to a playful sort of mischief instead.

He starts swimming again, giving grateful return bumps to his concerned pod members on the way right up to the boat, Potter’s eyes trained on him the whole time.

“Hi,” Potter says brightly, giving him a wave as Draco pops out of the water. In answer, Draco gives an enormous spray of water, glittering bright in the sunlight and dripping all over Potter and a few other crew members, making them laugh. “Nice to meet you too,” Potter says. He laughs again as a few belugas follow Draco’s lead, a shower of water dropping down all around them.

Potter Conjures bubbles directly over Draco, smile widening as he pops them before they’re even fully formed. Draco leaps up higher and spots the strap of a messenger bag by Potter’s feet, and on the next bubble, he misses on purpose and takes a swipe at the strap.

The bag splashes into the water in an instant, the sound loud over Potter’s startled, “Hey, that’s mine!” as the rest of the team laughs again. It’s quick, easy swim work to duck down in the water and hook the floating strap around one fin, making sure to spin onto his side to show Potter he’s got it.

Draco takes off, squeaking happily when he hears a flat splat sound behind him, a bodyboard hitting the water. It’s followed by another splash, Potter calling out, “Give that back!” as he starts to swim after Draco.

Even with magic—infused in his wetsuit, driving the bodyboard, clear and unmistakable and disconcertingly familiar—Potter can’t exactly keep pace with a grown beluga whale. Draco revels in that for a few viciously satisfying moments before he slows only long enough for Potter to catch up, to reach out between Draco and the bodyboard, and to catch hold of Draco’s fin—before speeding up again and taking Potter with him.

He tows Potter back to shore, spurred by his laughter and exhilaration, the way he’s ignoring the alarmed shouts of his colleagues from behind them, delighting in the clicks and squeaks and lovely, encouraging calls of Draco’s pod.

Draco bumps up against the rocks where he’d jumped in, knocking Potter against them until he takes the hint and climbs up, eyes wide and amazed. There’s another moment where Draco hesitates—it’s always hard to change back after feeling like this, to want human feeling again, worse still to take away some of the magic of what Potter has just experienced.

But he wants to change back, wants to see the look on Potter’s face. He recasts the requisite Warming Charms and pulls himself back into his human form, landing on the rocks next to Potter, gasping unfamiliar human breaths for a few seconds before he gets his bearings and braves a look at Potter.

Potter, who still looks just as amazed, still exhilarated, and somehow not at all disappointed. His eyes sparkle familiarly, and Draco blinks and feels nothing of the old resentment, like he’d left it all in the water in that first, tall spray.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Draco says, holding up Potter’s stolen bag.     

[radioactivepeasant]

Snippet Monday Week 2: Blackmail au

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(Last time, Sig was preparing to go back to Haven with Jak to retrieve Mar and deal with Krew)

It wasn't hard to give Kleiver the slip once they were out of the air train. Sure, they'd probably be paying for it later, judging by the irate yell behind them, but Damas would understand. And if he didn't, Sig would. Jak needed to be seen running -- apparently for his life -- from Wastelanders. Nobody could know that what was about to happen was premeditated. 

"Down!" Daxter hollered from Jak's back, and he dropped into a slide under two bewildered men carrying a crate.

"You little devil-!" Kleiver bellowed, puffing for air, "ohhh you're gonna regret it when I catch up to you!"

"You mean if you catch up to us," Daxter taunted.

"Giddyup, Jak! We're free!"

He cackled like a madman, shaking Jak's scarf like reins.

"Don't overdo it, Dax."

Jak caught a passing driver by the ankle and yanked them down.

"Sorry, man. Need to borrow this."

It was second nature to zip between traffic lanes, under bridges and scant inches above pedestrians' heads. For having had to learn to drive by trial and error, Jak was pretty good at not hurting anyone but himself in his more reckless moments. There was a reason KG Patrol Cars 9, 13, and 4 would actively refuse to initiate high speed chases if they spotted him. Unlike most of their fellow attack dogs, some of Praxis's men actually had senses of self-preservation. 

"Slow down, Jak, we're losing him!" Daxter urged.

They couldn't "accidentally" lead Spargus to the Underground's door if they actually outran their pursuers.

Daxter shaded his eyes and squinted, looking for Kleiver.  He squeaked and turned to thump Jak’s shoulders.

"Speed up, Jak!"

"Speed up, slow down- pick one!" Jak grumbled. 

"Speed up! He brought friends!" Daxter pointed behind him as if Jak could actually look. "It's the grabby lady in yellow!"

Jak ditched the zoomer at the mouth of the alley and ran, silently praying that Mar would actually be in the hideout and not one of the safehouses Kor preferred. If Mar wasn't there, this whole impulsive plan was for nothing, and the Wastelanders would probably lock him in the hold to keep him from making a second attempt.

Please, please, please-

Jak burst through the door, disheveled and out of breath. Come on, come on-

A small, innocent face peeked out from underneath one of the bunks, and Jak almost collapsed in relief.

"Jak! About time you showed up!" 

The bizarrely young Samos barely looked up from the map he was studying.

"Tess said something about you running off with Wastelanders! Dragged Torn out to go look for you and everything. You better have a heck of a good reason for that, or else we're never going to hear the end of it once he gets back."

"No time," Jak said brusquely. "I gotta get the kid out of here. It's not safe."

Samos stopped and actually looked up this time. "Not safe? Is it KG? Have they found us?!"

Daxter dropped from Jak's back and rolled his eyes. "The resistance symbol is on the door, genius! How long do you think you people have before someone actually looks at the door? We're not taking any chances!"

Samos relaxed. "Oh, that. Yeah that's why I'm only here when I have to be. But eh-" he shrugged. "If you want to get the kid and that blasted crocadog out of my hair for the day, you won't hear me complain!"

Jak stared at him for a moment, then curled his lip. "Boy," he said in a low voice, "You're really something."

Then he turned his back and knelt to hold his arms out to Mar.

"Mar, c'mere. It's okay, s'okay, we're gonna be okay, but you have to come with me. Alright? I promise, it's okay."

The little boy frowned. Then he patted the puppy's side and crawled out to meet Jak. Immediately the teenager scooped him into his arms and held him tight against his chest.

"I got you, I got you." 

He was okay.

"Did you see him?"

"He went this way!"

"Check every door. The ankle-biter can't have got far!"

Jak froze. "Rot. They found me. Samos, are there any other exits?"

Now noticeably nervous, the resistance leader looked around. "Er...no, no I don't think- who's out there?!"

"Wastelanders," Jak answered shortly. "I gave em the slip on the waterfront and I don't think they're real happy about that."

Samos scowled. "What'd you go and piss off a bunch of Wastelanders for?! We can't risk that much attention when we're this close to finding the Tomb!"

He started to reach for Mar.

"Gimme the kid. We'll hide in here while you deal with your mess!"

"Back off!" Jak snarled, pulling away. "I'm sick of you people acting like I'm expendable as long as you have my baby brother as a backup. What's wrong with you?! He's a kid! We're kids!"

"Brother?!" Samos sputtered, "Now look, kid, I know you're fond of him and all, but he's got a destiny you can't even begin to understa-"

The door slammed open behind them, and Samos turned and looked up to find himself eye to navel with a huge one-eyed man covered in the skulls of dead metalheads.

"Boy," Sig growled, "You are in a heap of trouble."

He reached down to pull Jak to his feet, then froze when a pair of frightened indigo eyes peeped up at him from over Jak’s shoulder.

Jak curled tighter around the toddler, glaring at everyone. "So? I made you work for it," he hissed.

Sig took a step back. "Yeah," he murmured, "...yeah, you did. I'll give you that."

Mar's eyes suddenly widened and he gasped. He pointed at Sig and made a small trilling sound. In response, the crocadog's ears perked up and it barked in curiosity. Sig handed his gun to the woman next to him and crouched.

"Hey, lil man," he whispered to Mar. He inhaled sharply and let the air out slow.

"Do…do you remember me?"

Mar pointed at him again with a worried expression. "Eye?" He signed, "Ba's eye is weird now?"

Faced with the toddler he'd helped raise since his cousin's death during a hunt, Sig choked on conflicted emotions. He wanted to sob over how big Mar had gotten, but all he could do was laugh.

"Yeah, yeah Ba's eye is weird now," he signed back. 

"Ba is mad at big brother?"

"No baby, it's just pretend. He ran off without telling his grownups. Ba was worried," Sig assured him.

"Ohhh. I did that too." 

Mar pulled away from Jak's chest and patted his face. 

"Don't be scared Jakky, Ba's not really mad."

"Omigods." Daxter covered a smirk. If they all made it through this in one piece, he was never going to let Jak live down being reassured by a toddler.

"Up you get." Kleiver stumped past Sig and hauled Jak roughly to his feet by the back of his tunic. "What'd I tell 'im, I said I ain't no babysitter! You're goin' back to the Wastes, little man, and good luck gettin' another chance to run for it. Heh. You'll be lucky if they don't put a baby leash on you for this."

"Hey rot you," Jak snapped. Still, he let himself be manhandled out the door while Samos panicked. Probably cruel, but if Damas was right about there being a leak in their intel, then appearances needed to be kept up. 

Once outside, he jerked his chin to the left. "There's a hatch down there that goes out to Dead Town. See if the air train will make a pickup out there."

The Wastelanders turned to stare at him. He'd stopped fighting. Stopped hissing and snarling like a stray cat. It was like a switch had flipped. Daxter rode the crocadog up beside him like a Flut Flut and smirked. 

"Told ya we knew what we were doing."

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[theflyingfeeling]

💖 it's here, it's pink, it's sparkly, and full of fluff 💖

Hiiiiii and welcome to witness my attempt at an Olli/Allu Advent Calendar, in which I'll give you ~a cute little something~ about these two idiots in love almost every day until December 24! My plan is to use prompts from this list to either write a fic based on the prompt or just some good ol' delulu thoughts if all else fails. I cannot guarantee there'll be a post literally every day, but I'm really excited to try this out and I thank you for your support along the way in advance 💝

The biggest thanks and a million hugs go to one of my favourite human beings @kraeuterhexchen for making the adorable banner!! I mean helloooooo?? 😭 Go show them some love ❣️

For December 1, the prompt list is titled One True Pairing Moments, and the prompt I chose was 'calling just to hear their voice' 🥺 You can read the fic below, I hope you like it <3

.

PS. Even though this is an advent calendar of sorts, I'm not planning on making this particularly Christmassy. I hope no one minds terribly!

~

Falling for Aleksi had, in a way, sneaked up on Olli, at least if he fooled himself a little. He could pretend he didn’t feel any different about the man than he did about, say, Joonas or Tommi, but that strategy only worked for so long – that is to say, approximately until Aleksi as much as smiled softly at him from across a room or bumped his shoulder into his jovially when walking down the street and Olli would feel his breath getting caught in his throat or stumble in his words, his tongue tangled like shoelaces, which was so unlike him as well and frustrated him to no end. It really took a special kind of fool to not only develop some level of feelings for a friend, a colleague, a bandmate for Christ’s sake, but also become so hopelessly enamored with him that you rolled awake in bed in the dead of night, grabbing your phone and tossing it back on the nightstand again and again because you couldn’t decide whether or not you should, on some erratic 2 o’clock impulse, call him to let him know he was the very reason for your insomnia. 

Turning on his back, Olli groaned (only a little desperately) as he remembered losing himself in the lingering hug they had shared just before the arrivals lobby at the airport, inhaling Aleksi’s scent and wishing they wouldn’t have to go home just yet, even if Olli was more than ready to finally sleep in his own bed again. Ironically, ever since they had returned home from tour, Olli had spent night after sleepless night missing Aleksi terribly: his stupid jokes and playful banter that bordered on being flirtatious if Olli allowed himself the benefit of delusion; his quick, subtle smiles that probably meant nothing; his little touches Olli hoped meant something; his smell and his touch and the softness of his hair at the back of his neck, compared to which the blanket Olli was grasping in his fist was like sandpaper. (How he had come to know of the qualities of Aleksi’s hair in such detail, he preferred not to dwell on too much to save himself from the heartache, so let’s just leave it at ‘stressful, emotional week far away from home’ and ‘a little too much to drink’).

Above all, Olli missed Aleksi’s voice. He hadn’t even thought that was possible, until the other morning when Olli had woken up to a voice message Aleksi had left just hours earlier, rambling about a song idea he had gotten in the middle of the night – something he did from time to time – and Olli had spent the next several minutes replaying it over and over again as he had lied in bed procrastinating getting up and and instead closing his eyes to better imagine Aleksi lying there beside him, turned on his side to face Olli, talking to him sleepily like they often did when they shared a room on tour and were just too lazy to join others at breakfast. Much like the hug at the airport, Olli wished those moments would have lasted way longer than they did, often ending abruptly when either of their phones would go off with Santeri’s name on the screen, a passive-aggressive interruption to the soft, low tone of Aleksi’s early-morning thoughts. (Sometimes, when Olli was lucky enough, he had been blessed with the bliss of feeling the light touch of a fingertip tracing along his collarbone, cut short just as frustratingly by their well-meaning tour manager politely enquiring whether the two of them had plans of dragging themselves downstairs for some toast and coffee, or if they’d rather starve until lunchtime, for which he wasn’t at all sure they’d even have time that day.)

The lovesick idiot that he was, his thumb hovered over the ‘play’ button of Aleksi’s voice message, probably for the millionth time that week. The chest-carving hesitation turned into a heart flip when he noticed Aleksi was online.

Then Aleksi began to type, and Olli held his breath the entire time until a new message appeared in the thread, anticipation holding him by his throat.

You awake?

Olli exhaled and typed his affirmative reply, leaving out the reason why.

He blinked at the screen, waiting for Aleksi to ask him a random question that clearly couldn’t wait until morning, or perhaps talk about something related to another late-night Twitch stream (from what Olli had gathered, Aleksi had been doing a lot of those recently, and with his last remaining braincell Olli had managed to resist the temptation to watch every single one of them, because he knew that if he did, it would only dig his grave of pining and longing deeper, seeing Aleksi smile and giggle about but not being able to do that with him or snuggle up next to him when he was wearing that flannel Olli often used as a blanket in the tour bus). But instead of another text appearing on the screen, Olli’s phone began to vibrate in his hand, and it took him an embarrassingly long while to understand it was because Aleksi was calling him. 

“Hi,” he sighed when he finally collected himself enough to speak. He prayed he’d be able to hear what Aleksi was going to say from the thumping heartbeat echoing in his ears.

“Hi,” a soft voice said. “Sorry, I know it’s late…”

“No, not at all,” Olli hurried to say, “I mean, I wasn’t sleeping. Not even close, actually.” Part of him hoped Aleksi wouldn’t ask about it, but in some foolhardy way the possibility intrigued him. 

Nothing much, he would have likely said anyway, but what would happen if he told Aleksi how it really was? That he squeezed his pillow imagining it was him instead, or wailed into it because something had reminded him of a moment-that-was-probably-not-a-Moment™ they had shared? What would Aleksi say if he knew Olli sometimes touched himself the way Aleksi had touched him That One Night they never talked about? The only obstacle between Olli and that knowledge was a bottomless ocean of cold sweat and cowardice, and Olli had never been a great swimmer.

“So, ummm…,” Olli said when Aleksi’s end stayed silent. “What’s up?”

A short breath of laughter sounded through the phone line.

“Honestly? I don’t know, I… It’s just been a… weird week, I guess.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, like… my head’s just been so full of… everything and… I’ve been so busy and kinda tense and… fuck, this is going to sound crazy,” Aleksi laughed that brief laugh again, although to Olli it didn’t sound particularly cheerful. Tired, more like. Strained, somehow. Not sad, but definitely a little troubled, and Olli intended to find out why.

“I’m all for crazy, you know.” Olli hoped his sorry attempt to lighten Aleksi’s mood would work, and so he smiled in relief when he heard Aleksi chuckle at his comment.

“I know,” Aleksi said softly, in that tone of voice that had Olli melt against his bedsheets. “So yeah, it’s been a rough week, but… in between all that stupid shit, I’ve been thinking a lot about… umm… well, the tour and– and… about you, for some reason,” (the troubled laugh made its return) “and… yeah. That’s sort of helped me a lot recently.”

Olli listened to the words carefully, not fully believing what he was hearing, yet clinging on to them until they were all but swirling around in his otherwise empty head like dry leaves in October wind.

“And tonight I just couldn’t fucking sleep for some reason and nothing I did seemed to help and so I thought I’d call you. And I’m–” If it hadn’t been dead silent otherwise, Olli wouldn’t have heard the shaky breath Aleksi paused to take, “I’m sorry I’m calling you at this hour and bothering you with this all but I guess I just… wanted to hear your voice. To see if that would help.”

“Does it?” Olli asked. Aleksi’s confession had made him clasp his blanket close to his chest, as if that would do anything about his rapidly beating heart.

“Yeah. It does. So maybe just… keep talking?”

Despite his mind living a life of its own, completely unfit to form a single coherent thought, for Aleksi’s sake Olli tried his best to think of something to say, but everything he came up with was something he was not ready to tell him quite yet. 

“Uuummmm…” he said to buy himself some time, but while he waited for his useless brain and mouth to form any actual words, Aleksi spoke again.

“Fuck, I’m– I’m sorry, this is too weird, I shouldn’t have– I’ll let you go back to–”

“I miss you,” Olli blurted before Aleksi would hang up on him. He squeezed his eyes shut when Aleksi went silent, too silent for too long for it to mean any good.

The line stayed open, however, which Olli took as a positive sign, even if the seconds during which all Olli could hear was Aleksi's quiet breathing seemed endless.

“And I you,” Aleksi finally replied. “A little too much, probably, or at least that’s what it feels like,” he chuckled. Olli almost missed the quiet sniff that followed.

He had to steel himself for his next question.

“What do you mean?”

“Just… forget it.” Aleksi said quietly. Contrary to Aleksi’s request, Olli knew he was going to all but ‘forget it’ for the next 3-5 business days; mentally he booked all his evenings as well as most of his mornings and noons for pondering what exactly had been in Aleksi’s mind in that moment or why he had sounded so sombre, almost disappointed. He’d probably never come to any satisfactory conclusion about it though, at least not without a little help from Aleksi himself. 

A ridiculous idea popped into his head, and before he could stop himself, the words flooded out of his mouth.

“Do you wanna come over some time? To hang out? When your schedule’s a little less tight, I mean.” He sucked on his lips and closed his eyes as he waited for Aleksi’s answer, ready to hang up the moment he’d decline the offer on some obvious and logical reason for why Aleksi couldn’t possibly make nor want to take a trip to the north to see him, such as ‘didn’t we just spend over two months on the road together?’ or ‘damn, buddy, I miss you alright but not quite that much, I’ve done enough sitting in public transportation for one year, thank you very much lol’ or ‘what about Rilla?’

“You could take Rilla with you, you know.” Olli hurried to say, just in case, the deranged part of his brain thinking there might be a chance Aleksi might be at least considering it.

“Oh! Well, umm… I actually might have time next week? If– if you’re actually being serious about this.”

Funny you should ask, Aleksi; I’ve actually never been more serious about anything in my entire life than I am about having you here with me so that I can hold you and be held by you and see your face when I wake up in the morning and say goodnight to your annoyingly cute face instead of via text message and maybe, if the stars are in position and the northern wind won’t discourage me too much, I might actually be brave enough to torment you with the knowledge of just how miserable I’ve been since we last saw each other.

“I think it would be cool,” he said, because he had a feeling what he wanted to say would’ve been a tad too much and sudden. “I mean, if you’re up for it, of course. I understand if you can’t make it though, I know you have all those side projects.”

“No, I think it might actually do me some good to get out of the capital area for change.” Then there was a muffled ‘ouch’, followed by a laugh that sounded much brighter than any of the other ones Olli had heard from Aleksi that night. “Sorry, correction, it might do us some good. Rilla just told me she’s most definitely coming too. Rilla, stop nibbling on my toes!”

Olli smiled tiredly at the mental image that was painted in his mind of Aleksi and Rilla cuddling in bed, both minding their own business from what it seemed while still minding each other as well, very much indeed.

“I’ll be sure to set up a bed for her in the guest room.”

“The guest room? Do you not know her at all? If she’s not getting the master bedroom, she’ll ruin all your rugs and most of your shoes. Probably also gossip about you to all the neighbourhood dogs. And she’s brutal.”

Olli held his stomach as he laughed, tears almost forming in the corners of his eyes. In his defence, it was late and he was finally becoming tired, thus too far gone to help himself, let alone feel embarrassed about being in stitches about something Aleksi had said that was only mildly amusing. (It wasn’t the first time that had happened either, and likely not the last time.)

“So yeah, ummm, I can take a look at some flight options for next week and let you know, alright? I’m gonna let you sleep now and… I should get some myself too.”

Olli wanted to tell Aleksi he’d love to stay up chatting until dawn, but the yawn he let out when he opened his mouth to speak implied Aleksi had a point.

“Yeah, let me know. And… thanks for calling, I… you have no idea how much I needed this tonight.”

That was as close to a confession as Olli was able to get as of now.

“Probably not half as much as I did.”

Olli chuckled at Aleksi’s response, mostly to hide his own agony.

If only you knew. If only I knew how to tell you.

It didn’t take long for Olli to doze off after they hung up, and when he woke up to the kids from next door having a snowball fight under his window in the morning, he noticed new messages from Aleksi, sent half an hour after their phone call had ended, complete with screen captions of airplane schedules.

Would these days work for you? I might be free all week actually 😇

Olli cuddled into his pillow while typing his reply, hoping it wouldn’t wake up Aleksi.

yeah I’m free as well. I’ll pick you two up from the airport 🖤

From then on, Olli started counting the days until he’d see Aleksi again.

[oswednesday]

people on This website bleed and die for ao3 but every time i use the website for anything other than reading a fic done by a friend its a desolated landscape like, theres nothing there

[wilsonsmcgillsweatshirt]

Something has possessed me, and I want to participate in Whumptober. The prompts are SO GOOD, and I'd love to switch between Hannigram and Hilson. But like.. with what motivation 😭

[destinationtoast]

"I got a set"

-- Coach Beard, talking about Ted's keys and launching at least a few dozen fics from those of us who stubbornly ship it

[fateisfiction]

Woot! Finally got words to my dear friend in our collab. Like 3 weeks late, but I've been more into TF141 than MHA recently, so it took a little bit of encouragement.

Meanwhile:

Asks are open! Requests are open!

NGL, I've forgotten what I have going on, so if you want me to continue something else, feel free to ask. If you don't want your username to be shown in an ask, just say so.

At some point I'll get a masterlist up and all the things I will/won't write for.

Current Fandoms:

BNHA, JJK, HxH, TF141(CoD)

Feel free to drag me into others, but you'll have to give me time to catch up enough to write.

[ggomos-maribat]

Cloudburst

Maribat Origins October 2022 Days 2 & 5: Umbrella/Stop/Cry

The loud pitter patter of the rain mimicked the storm in her heart. She had sprinted under the nearest shelter, a bus stop, and immediately sank on a seat, shivering. The downpour raged, and so did her emotions as she felt the pricking sensation at the corner of her eyes.

Usually, she wouldn't bother caring. She'd hold her head up to tell herself that she was above all the lies and deceit. But some days, the cries of her heart became too loud and her glass bottle became too full, and she'd break down out of nowhere. Marinette's shoulders heaved up and down whilst she quietly sobbed. The Gotham rain was mocking and empathizing with her at the same time, much like the conflict persistently stirring inside her.

From the periphery of her vision, she saw a stranger duck under the bus stop. She turned her head but didn't wipe her tears away, hoping that the raindrops would disguise them. The stranger shook and folded his umbrella, sparing her a sideways glance.

"Are you alright?"

His voice was deep. Clear. Tinged with the accent of a local.

Marinette froze, lifting her gaze to meet the stranger's gaze. "I'm sorry . . ." She rubbed the wetness from her reddened cheeks, growing embarrassed of the situation.

"Waiting for the bus?" He asked.

"Maybe?" She grimaced at the thickness of her own French accent. "I got lost."

"Where are you headed to?"

Marinette knew better than to divulge information to any Gothamite. Instead of the address of the hotel her class was staying at, she gave him a landmark one block away from the location.

"The buses here do not go through that avenue," the stranger explained.

She sighed. How could she expect a blessing on an already-disastrous day? "It's okay. I'll just walk when the rain stops."

"Are you sure? Do you have someone who can pick you up?"

She gnawed on her bottom lip. Does a negligent schoolteacher count? "No, I don't," she lied.

And so she was left to wait with him. She was sitting on one end of the row of seats, and him on the other. Buses came and went, but he never got on them. After the fourth bus or so, she figured that he was waiting alongside her. If he was doing it with malicious or pure intent, she didn't know.

The rain showed no signs of stopping, and neither did her nervousness. Marinette dared to take a peek from beneath her lashes. Dark hair. Tanned skin. Tall, bulky figure. He could be around her age. His eyes moved to meet hers and she looked away in a split second, not wanting to be caught staring.

As seconds ticked by, she was slowly consumed by her emotions again. The rain grew stronger like the beating of her heart, coming in with the occasional thunder and lightning that made her jump from her seat. She was tired. She was upset. She was cold. Only two days in Gotham and she was at her breaking point under the torment of her classmates.

Marinette realized that she was crying again. This time, she refused to stop. She wrapped her arms around herself, resting her head against the pole as she allowed her tears to fall.

She didn't notice him sliding towards her until she saw the hand holding out a handkerchief in front of her.

"Thank you," she whispered, taking the handkerchief. It was warm. Soft. Fragrant. She felt a bit of guilt for ruining the cloth.

"Sorry again," she said.

He was sitting closer to her now. "What are you sorry for?"

"For . . . seeing me in this state?" Her fist closed around his handkerchief. "I had a really bad day."

"You shouldn't apologize for expressing your emotions," he told her. His tone was stern, but kind. "If anything, it is unhealthy to bottle them up."

She almost laughed at that statement. For Parisians, releasing emotions was a luxury they couldn't afford. "You're right." The corner of her lips twitched upwards. "But I have to appear strong in front of other people all the time."

"You do not owe people that illusion."

"It's not that easy," she said softly, bowing her head.

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

She stared up at him quizzically.

"That was a useless question, wasn't it?"

"No." Marinette blinked rapidly. Had a stranger just offered her help? In Gotham, the City of Crime, of all places? "I was just surprised, that's all."

She played with a button on her top. "It's complicated. If I could deal with it overnight, I would've done that ages ago."

The stranger nodded solemnly, seemingly understanding the type of circumstance she was in.

"The rain doesn't look like it's stopping soon." He extended his arm to offer his black umbrella. "Are you in a rush? Here. You can use this." 

All of Marinette's thoughts screeched to a halt. Black umbrellas only seared memories of a bitter first love to her. She'd been let down once, and this time it was deja vu. Was she going to let it happen twice? Alarm bells echoed in her mind, a contrast to her steady heart. She told herself that this was different, completely unrelated to the naive encounters of her younger self. He was a generous Gothamite who was giving her his umbrella. Nothing more. 

She pushed her fears aside and accepted the umbrella with a shy smile. The stranger looked at her calculatingly, as if studying an art piece. "Do you want me to accompany you?" 

She was tempted to say 'yes' but she knew she couldn't take the risk. "No thank you. I don't want to bother you," she politely declined. 

He didn't push further. "I suggest passing through the main intersection. There are more people there, and it's less dangerous than other routes." 

"Thanks. I'll keep that in mind." 

"And here." He dug into his pocket and pulled out a small covered pocket knife. "Just in case." 

Marinette wanted to question why he carried a weapon with him, but brushed the thought off. It was Gotham after all; better not to ask. The skin of her fingertips touched his palm briefly when she picked up the knife. It had a foreign feel in her grasp. She tucked it into her pocket before thanking him again. 

"I guess I'll go now." She awkwardly waved goodbye, opened up the umbrella, and turned around to make her way through the street. 

It wasn't until she made a turn in the third street when the rain weakened to a trickle and the skies cleared. 

And it wasn't until she arrived at the hotel when she realized she didn't know the mystery stranger's name.

Taglist: @maribat-calendar-events @the-coffee-fandom @tinybrie

[whumpflash]

Acacia Aneura: 1027

for Angstpril, Day 10: No Good Deed Goes Unpunished (alt)

cw: noncon drugging, slavery, dehumanization, violence, adult language, brief emeto mention

previous ///// masterlist ///// next

×××

1027.

Sonora left him alone to register for the auction, and had come back with a little tin placard strung on a short length of rope. Draped it around his neck, over the collar.

1027. That was him now, a fucking number. He wanted to run, the second she'd left him unattended. He wanted to, he could've, he didn't. His best chance at freedom stolen by the fucking drug.

The auction wasn't set to start for a good while yet, but that didn't mean Judd got a moment's peace. Some bullshit informal part came first; strangers stopping to look him over, Sonora chatting them up, telling them all he could be good for, how versatile he could be for a buyer's needs. A blank slate, moldable with just a little training.

He wanted to throw up. But he remained motionless on his knees, let the conversation buzz and roll past him.

He didn't even lift his head when the pair of boots stopped a foot in front of him.

Not the first time it'd happened. Hands had reached for him a few times, checking his teeth, his eyes; testing the muscle in his arms, legs, torso.

Bite them, his mind screamed each time. Hit, kick, curse, at least try to push them away, for fuck's sake.

All pointless commands, when he was at least a week deep in Compliance.

This particular stranger didn't reach for him though, instead tapping their foot on the ground, as if trying to get Judd's attention.

"Bully."

Recognition pierced through the haze like a needle, tugging a thread of clarity after it. Barely anything, but he held on all he could, head lifting to meet the eyes of the man who'd started this chain reaction of misfortunes.

Skye.

The older man's hat was pulled low, a dust mask pulled up to cover his nose and mouth, but Judd didn't think he'd ever be able to forget his voice. His eyes.

"You—" he began, his voice barely able to hold a whisper.

"Sh." Skye looked over his shoulder. Sonora was engrossed in a conversation with a trio of potential customers, and no one else was even glancing their way.

"Not here to buy you, if that's what you're wondering," Skye said.

He wasn't. Judd was wondering if he was here to profit, if the wine crate had been a trap, a step towards taking him captive. Because if he hadn't fallen for it, someone else would've. If he'd just left the kid alone, he wouldn't have to be here, he could be back at his camp, he could be free.

In that one moment, Judd was grateful for the numbness the Compliance granted. The last thing he wanted was to cry in front of an enemy.

Skye knelt in front of him. "Never meant for this to happen, y'know. I'm gonna help you, but you gotta work with me, okay?"

Help him? Whether intentional or not, he'd caused this mess, and now he wanted to help him? Any other day, Judd would've told him to fuck off. Spit in his face. But right now, he only nodded silently.

"Good. Once someone picks you out, once they start taking you away, that's when I'll act, alright? Wanted you to know ahead. Give you a fighting chance. I can see the drug in you."

And then he was gone.

×××

"You're up, 1027." Sonora unhooked his chain, led him up the narrow steps of the stage.

By some miracle, or maybe due to his own silence, the slaver hadn't seen fit to dose him again before his trip to the stage. The fuzziness that formed a barrier between his consciousness and the world was gradually receding, but Judd was determined not to let it show. He wouldn't throw away what could be his last chance, no matter who it was that had handed it to him.

The auctioneer's voice droned on and on as Sonora pulled him in front of the gathered crowd, pointing out how strong he looked, how pretty he was, rattling off all his potential uses, calling out a starting bid.

From there, it went fast. Buyers clamoring to claim him, to outbid one another as Sonora's grin grew and grew. Judd didn't let any of the words reach him. It didn't have to be his life. He had a chance, he just had to avoid fucking it up.

He barely noticed when the bids were done, when his chain was passed to a man dressed in clothes that were a little too new to be belonging to a local.

City dweller. If he failed to escape now, he'd be taken further than he'd ever been, surrounded by people who thought Wastelanders were no better than animals.

Judd wanted to look for Skye, as the man led him back through the market, but he forced himself to keep his head down. If it came to it, if Skye was nowhere to be found, he'd act alone. 

Not that he'd get very far with the ankle cuffs on…

He scanned the path ahead, angling his course slightly when he saw a jagged stump protruding from the dirt on one side.

Fucking acacia.

Judd stepped so the plant would catch his chains, not even trying to soften his fall when it tripped him. He nearly took the city man down with him as he fell.

As the man cursed, looking back to see what had happened, Judd only knelt with his head bowed, as if demurely waiting for permission to stand back up.

"Dammit… Let me get rid of that. Stay."

Like he's talking to a fucking dog. But Judd stayed, hiding a smile as the man unclasped the shackles.

"Up," he said. "Let's be going."

Judd obeyed, keeping his eyes downcast in case the man glanced back. He couldn't try anything yet. Not until they made it out of the market, away from the crowds.

Once they reached the edge, Judd found he could pick out the man's transport a mile away. One of the fancy models he'd only ever heard about; a silvery, enclosed pod to keep out the sun and wind. Under different circumstances, he'd be excited to even see one. Right now, he'd do everything in his power to avoid setting foot onboard.

He was watching the city man's movements, trying to gauge when would be the best time to try and run, when a dark mass lunged forward, knocking Judd's buyer to the ground.

Skye.

"Run, bully, run!"

And run Judd did, seizing the chain around his neck and yanking it from the city man's grasp, even as his buyer began to scream for reinforcements.

He was running, but where was he running? Into the wastes? Barefoot, barely clothed, with no water, no way to protect himself?

A sharp whistle drew his attention and he saw Skye to his right, sprinting alongside him.

"Follow me! Got a speeder."

Thank fuck. Judd could hear shouts behind them. They had a head start, but once the slavers and shoppers reached their own transports, they could still be overrun. He had to trust that Skye had accounted for that. He had no other option.

The older man had surged ahead, making a beeline for a landspeeder parked in the distance.

Four hundred meters away. Less.

Judd put on a burst of speed, eager to get ahead of his pursuers, to put the last few weeks behind him—

—and was stopped short, a force on his collar suddenly cutting off his air, yanking him off his feet.

The pressure didn't let up right away, and Judd clawed at his throat, momentarily confused at his change in orientation. Why was he staring up at the sky? Why wasn't he running?

Then all of a sudden he could breathe again, and the city man was standing over him, blood leaking from a cut on his lip.

"Wasteland bastard," he panted. "I'm gonna make you real sorry for that—"

Skye reappeared in a flash, but this time the man was ready, sidestepping his attack. Judd pushed through the pain in his throat, aimed a kick at the man's legs, but even as he went down he knew it was too late.

The rest of the market was coming crashing down on them.

As Judd thrashed on the ground, sending wild kicks and punches in any direction, as hands seized hold of him, pinned him to the ground, secured his wrists— he found Skye's eyes, shooting him a pleading look.

For what, even Judd wasn't sure. To help him? To run away and save himself? Because Skye had at least tried. He'd tried to help, and even if it was his fault, that counted for something. He deserved to get away.

But he didn't. Didn't even fucking try. He stayed, trying to beat the slavers back, trying to get Judd back to his feet. He stayed, and he fought, until he was bleeding and breathless on the ground beside Judd, held in place by three men.

"I apologize sir, I didn't realize it'd be so much trouble." Sonora's voice, somewhere above him.

The city man huffed. "I'm sure I'll come to enjoy the challenge," he said, though he didn't sound happy.

"What should we do with the other one?" another slaver piped up. "The one who attacked you. Should we kill him?"

"No," said the man. "No, don't bother."

Judd could hear the smile in his voice, slick and unpleasant, as he continued.

"I think I'll take him with me."

@kira-the-whump-enthusiast @kixngiggles

×××

[faofinn]

Day 31 - Ambulance Ride

@mediwhumpmay

They'd not long been in the back of the ambulance when Finn started to regain consciousness. He spat the airway from his mouth and knocked the mask off his face, rolling onto his side. He'd not yet worked out where he was, but he was always more comfortable on his side. 

As someone readjusted the mask on his face, he jerked back, eyes wide.

"It's alright, just sorting this. It's Finn, yeah? You're alright. You've had a few seizures." The medic said to him. "Your brother’s here, don't you worry."

Finn narrowed his eyes, trying to make sense of the figure in front of him. At the mention of his brother, he perked up, looking expectantly around. 

Fao reached across for his brother’s hand. “I’m here, Finn.”

"Fuzzy." He managed, fidgeting his feet.

“You had a couple of seizures. Makes you feel a bit odd.” He reassured. “You’re okay.”

"Hurts."

“I know, I know.”

"Finn, where hurts? I know it’s all gonna be a bit difficult right now."

He moved to look at the paramedic, pulling a face. He didn’t see why he he's we being asked, especially when it was so obvious. 

“Finn? Can you tell them what’s hurting? They’re not mind readers.”

"I don't care." He huffed, settling back down.

“They care, though. They want to help. Is it your head?”

"Mm. Maybe."

"Are we playing charades?" He laughed softly. "I'll change the question. Do you want some pain relief?"

Finn thought about it for a second, weighing it up. For him to be in the back of the ambulance, he'd have had more than one seizure, which meant he already had a cannula in. He squinted his eyes to check which arm, and then held it out wordlessly. 

"I'll take that as a yes." He laughed. "I'll grab you something."

Fao couldn’t help but laugh too. “Honestly, Finn. You’re daft sometimes.” 

"'M not."

The paramedic got Finn the medication he needed, squeezing his hand once he was done. “There. That should sort that pain out, wherever it is.”

Finn settled after that, the pain relief adding to the post seizure haze. He was content enough to sleep. 

They were typically a long way from the hospital, and the journey in the ambulance dragged. Finn had dozed off, and Fao watched him closely. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d have a break from seizures and then start again. He watched the rise and fall of his chest, every breath, waiting for something. He knew he was paranoid, and that his brother was older now, but he still saw that broken ten year old, his baby brother. He’d always been protective over Finn, and that hadn’t changed now he was a grumpy teenager. 

Eventually, after what felt like an age, they pulled up at the hospital, and Fao scrambled out of the ambulance to follow his brother into the building. Unfortunately, it was just the start to another long, long day.

[queenangst]

readers, never underestimate the power of a comment. for the low price of a keysmash and a few words you too can decimate authors and revive wips

[sunshinereddie]

trying to plan out all my ideas for reddie week....... i have so many fic ideas.... but will i have enough time to write them all...... that’s the million dollar question....... everyone pray for me lmao

[radioactivepeasant]

This week's prompt poll:

I'll be using a lot of November to work on Faulty Info for NaNo, but I do have an abundance of plot bunnies that attacked me while working on the sick fic, some of which have snippets attached

[ghosts-and-blue-sweaters]

Thank you so so much @biathediamond @icyfox17 @salineroses and Pinestripe for sending in such darn lovely asks for the AU game!! I’m having a lot of fun with them :D

[svtskneecaps]

btw we're dancing ever closer to a large milestone so. congrats. this is terrifying. where did you people come from. how are you still here.