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overtake · 3 months ago

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Non-driver Maxiel AU where Max lives in London and is forced into a run club by George.

Warning: mention of vomiting

The sun is obscenely low in sky when George raps at Max’s bedroom door. It’s soft at first, then graduates into louder and louder pounding that Max can’t ignore, even in this hungover haze. He drags his heavy limbs to the shaking bedroom door and flings it open, hoping his visible rage and pillow-creased face make George fuck right off.

“What do you want?”

George is perky, that irritating fucking smile accompanying clear skin and bright under-eyes. There’s no signs of last night’s adventures left on his face. He’s also wearing the ugliest, most neon green workout set Max has ever laid eyes on. The shorts are obscenely short. Max isn’t wholly convinced George isn’t aspiring for the sex offender registry if he wears those in public.

“You promised you’d attend run club with me,” George says. He begins dropping into little side-to-side leg stretches, and Max has to avert his eyes to avoid being flashed.

“Mate, I absolutely did not do that.” If a criminal was holding Max’s family hostage and said the only way to save them was running a 5K, he’d have to beg the guy for a chance to say goodbye.

“Yes, you did,” George protests. “It was after that guy you hit on turned out to be straight.”

As if Max needed to be reminded of that part, which does come back to him quite clearly, along with the many g&ts he downed after.

George, rather unwisely, keeps talking. “I said it was a great way to meet people, then Alex said you wouldn’t last a single kilometre in a run club, and then you bet him 10 quid you could finish the run and agreed to come today.”

Max blinks at him dumbly. To be fair, it does sound like the kind of stupid, competitive bet he’d get into with George’s new boyfriend.

They all technically work for the same company, but Max is in IT and Alex was always tech-literate enough to never need Max's help. Ever since Alex all but moved into this flat — which George's mysteriously wealthy parents pay for, so Max shuts his mouth and deals — they have become well acquainted. George has effectively weaponized their innate need to antagonize each other into fights over who can dry dishes faster, sort out the recycling best, and hang framed photos the straightest.

This, however, is a whole new level.

“Absolutely fucking not,” Max says. He moves to slam the door in George’s face, but George swiftly kicks his foot in the gap.

“Fine, but I’m telling Alex you backed out,” he threatens. He’s serious, too. He’s been begging them to join this run club with him for ages, but it’s been a losing battle against two people who hate both early wakeups and exercise.

Max thinks of Alex’s smug, delighted face when Max is forced to hand over the money — and he’ll make a whole show of it, probably in front of all their co-workers — and grits his teeth. “I’ll fucking go, but I’m moving out.”

“That loses its effectiveness when you threaten it every other day,” George informs him, then drops into a lunge that exposes his matching neon green briefs. This is going to be the worst morning of Max’s life.

They roll up to the meeting spot five minutes late and both extremely grumpy: Max at the whole situation, and George at Max because he apparently dressed too slowly. He’d dragged him by his wrist the whole way there.

George is instantly greeted and swept away into a crowd of runners who could be his fucking clones, short shorts and all. Max briefly wonders if he can escape without George noticing, but as he begins a shuffle toward the edges of the group, someone catches his eye and begins walking over.

“You’re new!” he says, just as eerily enthusiastic as the rest of this group, like it’s not literally six in the morning. Max is beginning to wonder if he’s starring in a horror movie.

The man flashes perfect teeth at Max. At least he’s extremely beautiful. The least this group could do is give Max something worth looking at if they’re planning to ritually sacrifice him at the end.

“I’m Max. George made me come,” he says, sticking his thumb out at his evil, detestable flatmate. Max will be unleashing the cats into George’s locked office, where he keeps his priceless collection of vintage teapots on display.

“Oh, he’s always talked about bringing his boyfriend! I’m Carlos. I founded this group.”

Max tries to resist gagging at more than just leftover gin sloshing around his stomach. Judging by Carlos’ amused expression, he does not succeed. “Flatmate. Definitely not his boyfriend,” he corrects.

Carlos runs a tan hand through his beautiful, flowing hair, and Max doesn’t even bother to pretend he’s not watching the movement. “Welcome, George’s not-boyfriend. Let’s get you sorted into a pace group. What’s your usual time?”

“I haven’t run since I played football in school. I will be walking behind the slowest group.”

Carlos laughs as if Max just made a hilarious quip, which is vaguely concerning seeing as he could not be more serious. “Just run at whatever pace works for you. We believe in pace inclusivity here. You’ll have Daniel over there hanging behind the pack today so nobody gets separated, and we’re just doing 5K today. You’ll be fine.”

“Just 5K,” Max repeats flatly, but Carlos is already gone. Fuck his life. He’s swearing off all bets with Alex for the rest of time.

He tries to get a peek at the mysterious Daniel that he’ll seemingly be spending loads of time with, but all he can see is the back of a worn navy cap, long sleeves, and tight compression leggings under shorts. At least he’s not an exhibitionist like George’s little neon crew.

Carlos stands on a nearby bench, gets everyones attention with a clap, and starts on some monologue about the beauty of morning runs. Max tunes him out and wonders if it might have been a good idea to stretch.

When Carlos gets the run started, Max doesn’t even try to move near George. He lets himself fall back with the only other person who looks vaguely close to struggling. The dude's in an ankle brace, but still, Max is able to keep pace with him for a solid two minutes.

Things start getting a bit shaky 1K in, but Max can still see some of the other runners. He knows the run club pace guy should be somewhere behind him, but he can't turn around to check. If he pauses for even a second, there’s no way he’s making it through.

He’s definitely wheezing quite loudly, and his legs are cramping in ways he never thought possible. Every new step aches. His four-year-old worn down shoes probably couldn’t survive another London rainstorm, let alone an actual run. He knows the wrinkly t-shirt he wore to bed is probably completely drenched in sweat, but he successfully gasps through another kilometre.

Only three to go before Alex has to pay up, and that thought is pushing Max through. He’s almost completely lost track of the group by now, and he can hear the slow tread of the poor guy stuck with him getting closer. The guy — Daniel, he thinks — calls out to him as he approaches.

“Mate, if you don’t mind, I’m just going to run beside you so you don’t veer off-path.”

If Max could hear anything over the sound of his own heavy breathing, he might have clocked the Australian accent and familiar cadence. Instead, he focuses so hard on not tripping over a now-unravelling shoelace that he instead misses a giant fucking stick in his way and eats shit straight onto the pavement.

He sits with his back curled over his scraped-up knees, trying to remember a time when his chest and lungs didn’t physically ache with every short breath. He can feel last night’s drinks and 2 AM kebab churning around his stomach.

“Are you okay?” a kind, concerned voice asks. There’s a hand lightly touching his back, and it’s making Max feel sickly over-warm in his already burning body.

Max turns, looks into Daniel’s eyes, and promptly vomits onto his ex-fiancé's pristine white shoes.

#i’m too scared to join a run club so i’m truly just guessing at the vibes of one #toronto run clubs have a REPUTATION #but carlos has curated impeccable and welcoming vibes for this fantasy london one <3 #maxiel #fics

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rfswitchart · 8 months ago

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Obligatory Huntlow post for ASIAS anniversary

So, I might as well do an anniversary post for Any Sport in a Storm, shouldn't I?

Pop quiz: When did Willow Park fall in love with the Golden Guard? There's a lot of answers you COULD say for this. Maybe she started realizing it when they were in the Human Realm. Maybe she realized when he grabbed her out of the sky or was in the detention pit with him.....

You COULD say that.... but you'd be wrong. She realized it the moment Hunter stood between the Entrails and Darius. "Wait, how do you know that?" you might ask. Simple. Because as a writer of 25 years and someone who has had many crushes and relationships... I know that kind of body language and tone of voice well.

"After all, it will be 52 weeks until 'Caleb's' next day off..." Note the way she SAID that. Sly, coy, definite tongue in cheek. The way she's looking over her shoulder back towards him. I mean COME ON, there's a heart shaped cloud just above her head. Hearts being between the two of them is a big tell for that. It's called THEMING. "Ok, but that's just one moment..." Au contraire, did you think I'd come into this with one example? Remember, I WROTE THIS ALREADY. Now, pop quiz #2: Why did Hunter, who had only ever met Willow ONCE know the difference between the real and fake one?

After all, there is no way he could have known that after just one encounter. You can not determine a person's entire personality based on a sole encounter, no matter how much of an impression it left on you. The answer, again, is simple...

Because they had been talking over Penstagram since ASIAS. Probably took a while due to Hunter not being used to typing and stuff, but I cannot imagine they weren't talking since that night. It also explains why Willow trusted him so easily during the scout invasion of Hexside. Because it couldn't JUST be the breathing technique that swayed her. After all, Hunter had lied and betrayed her and her friends before.

...Again with the hearts. THEMING! Anyway, even if we discredit ASIAS and Labyrinth Runners, or how she totally went to kill Kikimora for trying to hurt 'him' (and stopped when she could have hurt him) and ran after 'him' specifically when 'he' was captured (remember, it was Luz, she just THOUGHT it was Hunter) Fine, let's forget all that then...

Because even if you discount those things, she definitely had a thing for him while they were trapped in the human realm. How do I know? Ok, time to teach you kids about flirting 101.

"I'm gonna borrow that book when you're done with it! ;)" She's not saying "I want to read that" because she's curious about Cosmic Frontier. She is saying "I want to know more about your interests," and saying it with a tone that says "I want to turn this into a date if I can." Even before when she's taking a picture and shutting down Amity's snarking on Hunter's costume, her body language, her words, her tone. They are all suggesting there's more than just 'friendship' there. When it comes to flirting, it is not WHAT you say, it is HOW you say it.

Also, while I'm on the subject. Willow is canonically Pansexual, she is not Ace. Also, she is not Demi/aromantic, she is heavily guarded and has trust issues from years of bullying and nearly everyone looking down on her or using her as emotional support. I have the same problem for the same reasons, and I know for a fact I am not aro. I am guarded because I've been hurt before, same as Willow. Hunter is the only one who ISN'T like that.

He doesn't see her as weak and frail, he doesn't rely on her for stuff, and he wouldn't be caught dead hurting her or looking down on her. That is HIS captain, and he'll be damned if he won't see her as anything short of incredible. And boy did he let her know that, more than once.

Anyways, sorry for rambling. Let's all appreciate these two amazing, powerful witches who really do compliment each other's lives.

#huntlow #the owl house #any sport in a storm #willow toh #willow park #hunter toh #hunter deamonne #hunter noceda #willow x hunter #Never underestimate a flirter

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m3tr0n0m333 · 2 months ago

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»A SPARK OF HOPE«

A fankid AU: Introduction

Circa 200 years into the future…

Past the death of the renowned, world famous hero: Sonic the Hedgehog, his immortal rival resides in a secluded location not many know about, or dare to stumble upon. He’s made himself a peaceful abode, isolated from the rest of the world— prying eyes or hands seeking his power or presence.

Shadow merely wishes to live without the stress of catastrophe weighing on his shoulders. And with the death of the biggest villain of the era- Doctor Robotnik, he succeeds for the most part- until a mysterious illness overcomes him, and he’s forced to reach out for help.

Upon wandering to the familiar-yet-changed Emerald Town, Shadow spots a recognizable logo on a building.

With curiosity and intrigue, the ebony hedgehog makes his next exploration the inside of this tall establishment.

[REFS AND MORE UNDER CUT]

No, it will not stay this well formatted most of the time. Guess I just felt like putting effort into it.

This au focuses around Tails, Shadow, and my fankid, Sparks! (No ships between these three, although they do end up as a family of sorts.) (+ Silver, who exists around this time, gets to be the cool cousin of sorts)

Shadow, as described, had isolated himself for quite a few years. And got an illness. But it’s far from mysterious.

His inhibitor rings have rusted and aren’t as effective as they were, well, 200 years ago, causing his chaos energy to run irregularly and make him fatigued/sick. Of course, it was a gradual process, so it was a little difficult to have spotted it right away. And when you’re sick, the obvious becomes… less obvious?

During this lengthy intermission between supposed canon and au, (I may go off canon quite a bit. I’m not professionally well versed in all the Sonic lore…) Miles Prower (formedly gone as “Tails” for his iconic two tailed ‘mutation’) had grown rather successful. A well-off entrepreneur of his own brand. He lives comfortably, although he does lack the bonds he once had.

As a kitsune, Miles’ life expectancy is lengthened, and gaining another tail every 100 years. He had existed much past his more mortal friends and allies, but pushed forwards to a brighter future, sort of. In this time, he has developed more of his kitsune oriented abilities, taking a favor to illusions.

Shadow wanders upon the main building, the HQ erected at Emerald Town, where his house once was. As Shadow wanders, Miles is aware of the old friend bumbling through the building and decides to play a little prank with some illusions and the high tech security measures he has installed in the building. (Nothing harmful, promise)

Once Shadow reaches the top, Miles reveals himself with a bold act of bravado. As of which they have some reunion and reaccqeuaintence time. Shadow explains his problem to Miles, Miles points out the problem and offers to make Shadow new inhibitor rings (and fix his air shoes in the process). Afterwards, he offers a residence for Shadow with him, but the hedgehog refuses, intending to return to his reclusive life.

On his path of return, he comes across a kid, sitting alone in the rain.

He resembles someone.

Spiky blue quills colored like the wind and the sky, peachy fur on his chest and muzzle. Pointed ears, although a bit droopier.

He sat with his legs pressed against his chest, on the edge of the sidewalk. Alone, yet he wears an expression closer to irritation rather than fear or melancholy.

After some questioning, he discovers that the kid ran from an orphanage, one he describes as nasty and disrespectful to him, like gum sticking his shoe to the floor. He describes that he had ran, to find some freedom. He’s a fast runner, you know? Maybe if he can get faster and faster, he may actually break the barrier keeping him chained to the orphanage.

When the sky darkens, illuminating the moon and the stars, Shadow stands. To lead the kid back to where he should be encourages him to have hope, but without acting to give him it. Words are empty when actions don’t reflect it.

The kid begs to let him free. Lead him somewhere else, not back to his prison. No one will take him back in the orphanage. He deserves to be free. He can take care of himself out here- a string of reasons to grasp why he shouldn’t go back.

Shadow continues to walk in silence.

…

Perhaps it was pity. Shadow would like to believe it is, but it’s hard to describe the pull of his actions towards another decision. He felt this was right, despite denial weighing on this choice.

Shadow returned to the tall building, where Miles— although surprised to see his return— welcomed him back warmly. When asked for the reason of his return, Shadow provides a rather bashful explanation.

He doesn’t know how to take care of a child.

—

References + Character Design and Personality Rambles

Eyyyy it’s the old man (quite literally at this point. He’s like 200+ years??). How did he survive all those years in isolation without going insane?? I have no idea. He probably talks to the animal inhabitants of the place he lived in I think. I like to think maybe he found himself an ancient library to make himself at home and spent most of his time reading books and doing house chores.

To be honest I tried to reference other Shadow redesigns because I also wanted to put some more Black Arms traits on him, but I honestly don’t know know much about the Black Arms so all he got was a longer tail <3

He’s a tiiiny bit pinker in this design. Like the red highlights on his quills are more pivoted towards the pink on the color wheel, and the white fur also has a tint of pink. No reason. He just gets to be slightly pinker. As a treat.

^^ (Miles noticed. Shadow did not.)

Anyways, you may be wondering, why didn’t Shadow take the offer of staying with Miles the first time? After being alone without friends were so long, you would think he is drawn to the idea of having company again. Well, the thing is, I think that Shadow hates change, in a way. He’s drawn himself away from society, lived self sustained, without the pressures and all that. Suddenly, he gets the offer to reintegrate into a society he is not well versed in? Seems incredibly overwhelming. And Shadow believes he was perfectly content in his serene lifestyle.

He only reconsidered the second time because he doesn’t know how to take care of the kid he freshly adopted (and probably not correctly adopted either) and only thought of Tails for help. As far as he knows, Tails is the only other old friend that exists alongside him right now so…

This sets up the story of Shadow and Tails tries to take care of this kid and slowly forms into a type of found family that doesn’t quite fit into the boundaries of what a family would be like. They are not even close to traditional family roles, I think, other than a child-parent relationship between Shadow and Sparks (who I have yet to introduce)

During this story, Shadow gets back into the action of adventure again. He’s reminded of the exhilaration he felt in the past. Even little things such as banter and skating down hill. He missed it all, although he doesn’t admit it.

Here is Miles!! He dropped the name “Tails” after a while, deeming it something he doesn’t identify as deeply with anymore. (Maybe because no one was around to call him that old nickname anymore)

So you know how I mentioned he’s become an entrepreneur of sorts? It was bound to happen, I think. Imagine living 200+ years and still not figuring out how to earn the most money and live comfortably.

Anyways, while coloring his design, I did realize that he vaguely reminds me of Eggman… it’s probably the red, gold and white colors. Fits him well though, yeah? He always did share some traits with Eggman, I think. He just turned out more benevolent, he still has the high tech tendencies that Eggman held, as well as other habits.

I think Miles had earned some of an ego over time. When most acquaintances leave(died), and you rise to the top, everyone feels so far. And Miles stop bothering to seek out meaningful relationships to save him some suffering. He can still have fun, he can still have friends- just not with the strong intimate bond he had with his initial family.

When Shadow returned, he felt a spark- the hope- the opportunity to have a semblance of the old life again. Nostalgia is a strong feeling. That is why he offered for Shadow to stay. He didn’t expect him to, but that didn’t stop his heart from swelling with joy when Shadow did return.

Here is Sparks! The kid Shadow picked off the street yaknow yaknow… He is meant to resemble Sonic. Not uncannily resemble him though. Just enough that both Shadow and Tails can look at him and think… he kind of reminds me of his other blue hedgehog I had a deep connection with….

Part of why Shadow adopted Sparks is honestly because of his resemblance to Sonic. He would not like to acknowledge it, as it seems like such a cruel thing to give the hope of a new connection to someone that doesn’t know that that new connection did not start off new at all in the other side.

Of course, Sparks acts nothing like Sonic, despite similar appearances. Even though Sparks also shares the same sentiments— wanting freedom— as well as abilities— such as superspeed— Sparks acts more towards the pessimistic side. He’s not as charming as Sonic had been. (And although he does have superspeed, I believe it’s not to the extent that Sonic had.)

Additionally, when Shadow had been taking him back to the orphanage, he really wasn’t forced. Sparks intended to follow him back. Perhaps out of habit. And inevitable loop of escaping but returning once again. But also because if cowardice, knowing he wouldn’t be able to make it by himself. He’s immature, he’s inexperienced, Sparks is aware of that, yet still tries- only to the extent of what he knows he can succeed: aka running away, but never staying away. His cowardice is one of the traits he does not share with Sonic.

During his description of the orphanage to Shadow, he’s a bit of an unreliable narrator. The orphanage isn’t as miserable as Sparks describes it as. It’s a pretty normal orphanage, Sparks is just a troublemaker- and he hates the idea of being trapped in one place.

Anyways, Sparks resembles a star of sorts. He’s a little star themed. <3

#a spark of hope #sonic au #sonic fanchild #sonic fancharacter #sonic fankid #sonic fan character #sonic oc #shadow the hedgehog #tails the fox #miles tails prower #sonic #sonic the hedgehog #UHH READ THIS ALL IF YOU CAN OREETTY PLEAAAASE I WORJED SO HARD ON IT :3 #its even got little visuals….#Sparks #Sparks the hedgehog #my art :3 #text post

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irondad-creator-awards · 2 months ago

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All Winners and Runners-Up have now been added to the collections, though some will be awaiting permission.

The Bookmarks are all processed though for Winners and Runners-Up so you can find them all there.

Here is a list for simplicity's sake of our 2024 WInners and Runners-Up.

Best Multi -Chapter

Winner: Get Off My Lawn by Or I'll Turn The Hose On You by Bergen

Runner-Up: Broken Mirrors And Fragile Things by Evienyx

Best Drabble

Winner: Peter Parker Needs A Hug by Happyaspie

Runner-Up: They Happen Because Of You by Diamondshard143

Best One -Shot

Winner: How To Get Banned From Monaco (Again) by Niniblack

Runner-Up: King Of The Interns by Isadancurtisproduction

Best Plot Twist

Winner: Dark Matter by Mysterycyclone

Runner-Up: Occupational Hazard by Bergen

Best Biodad

Winner: The Moon And Stars (And Gummy Worms Where They Shouldn’t Be) by Jaworley

Runner-Up: I Believe I'm Lacking Some Context by Bergen

Best World's Colliding

Winner: Heir Of Stark Industries by Inkinmyheartandonthepage

Runner-Up: 4.2 And Running In Circles (Don’t Give Up Kid by I’m Here) by Jaworley

Best Hurt/Comfort

Winner: To Be Built Back Up Again by Fotibrit

Runner-Up: If You Find That You Feel Lost by I'll Be Your Ticket Back by Kingdomfaraway

Best Homeless

Winner: Leap Of Faith (Catch Me If You Can) by Erinwantstowrite

Runner-Up: Broken Mirrors And Fragile Things by Evienyx

Best Adoption

Winner: 7 Times Peter Starts To Realize He Has A Family + The One Time He Knows He Does by Jaworley

Runner-Up: 100 Hours (Community Service Is For The Turtles) by Orphanaccount

Best Fix -It Fic

Winner: Tis The Damn Season (For A Christmas Miracle) by Peacockgirl

Runner-Up: The Fifth Stage Of Grief by Bergen

Best 5+1

Winner: The Iron Dad Protocol by Peacockgirl

Runner-Up: 5 Times Peter’s Metabolism Screwed Him Over by For_The_Night

Best Identity Reveal

Winner: Coincidentally— by Bergen

Runner-Up: All I've Waited For (Where You Belonged) by Jaworley

Best Kidnapping

Winner: I Know My Name (It's All I Know For Sure) by Jaworley

Runner-Up: How To Catch A Spider -Man by Ctrsara

Best Bonus Bond

Winner: Take Me By The Hand (I Miss You) by Jaworley

Runner-Up: Unofficial SI Lemonade Business by Happyaspie

Best Humor

Winner: Hierarchy Of Needs by Bergen

Runner-Up: Ned Leeds' Beginner's Guide To Faking Sick by Happyaspie

Best Wild Card Story

Winner: Lies Of Omission by Bergen

Runner-Up: An Unexpected Reunion by Sara (Ctrsara)

Best AU

Winner: A Sky Full Of Stars by Olliecollie

Runner-Up: The Spiderman And The Frog by Bergen

Best Series

Winner: Finding The Way Home by Peacockgirl

Runner-Up: More Than An Intern by Jaworley

The All -Time Favorite

Winner: Leap Of Faith (Catch Me by If You Can) by Erinwantstowrite

Runner-Up: Identity Saga by Kitcat992

The 2023/2024 Favorite

Winner: Deadpool's Guide To Accidental Kidnapping by Inkinmyheartandonthepage

Runner-Up: Broken Mirrors And Fragile Things by Evienyx

THE PROLIFIC WRITER AWARD

Winner: Bergen

Runner-Up: Inkinmyheartandonthepage

THE NEWBIE

Winner: Mswinifredquale

Runner-Up: Badass_Bookworm

THE OG

Winner: Jaworley

Runner-Up: Peacockgirl

BEST IRON FAMILY FANART

Winner: Spideyart

Runner-Up: Reeneeart

MOST HEARTBREAKING FANART

Winner: Spideyart

Runner-Up: Stxrddst

Best Sketch

Winner: Moritashi

Runner-Up: Monireh

Best Wild Card

Winner: Spidey -Art

Winner: Reeneeart

Best Fic Art

Winner: Monireh

Runner-Up: Happyaspie

Best Cartoon

Winner: Happyaspie

Best Canon -Redraw

Winner: Melty -Artz

#irondad creator awards #spider-man #iron man #irondad and spiderson #irondad #art #fandom awards #spider son #fanfic #irondad creator awards 2024

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dianesdiaries · 5 months ago

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scorched earth| Homelander x Y/N

Synopsis/AU;Homelander becomes a madman after Vought decides they have the better facilities of taking care of Ryan, realizing the pain and abandonment he went through Ryan would believe his dad left him to face. In a fitted rage, he destroys the Vought building one by one, taking a life every minute it takes to return his boy. Y/N is assigned to the special forces team responsible for 'cleaning up his mess', and ensuring that nobody gets hurt. By the time special units have reached the building, Homeland's already taken a liking to toppling down dominoes.

TW: lots of violence in this one! I didn't really know what to write but I thought it would be a cool idea to see homelander go cray cray again lol

NOTE: this is short but I feel like would make a rlly good part 2 lmk!

I searched the premises top to bottom, looking for any signs of imperfections left behind in his massacre. God knows what he had in store for the rest of the world, and not one person has a single clue what could've led to this trajectory. I watched as bright stars peaked in the sky, cameras and vans swarming the building like bees to a nest. My gun slinged along my arm as I slowly watched the stars get closer, and closer..

It was bodies.

The sound of bones mushing into pavement made my stomach hurl. But when it rains, it pours. Dozens of civilians began falling from the sky, bouncing off the concrete in sync to the sounds of blood curling screams arising amongst viewers. I know, I was assigned to special forces for a reason. But he's lost his damn mind.

"All units, Move in! NOW! RIGHT FUCKING NOW! I SEE ONE MORE BODY DROPS ITS GONNA BE YOU!" The chief demanded, his coffee splattered across his long tattered coat in a fuel of rage. Hoisting into gear, I took one last look at the pain behind me. News vans scampered back and forth across the roads looking for a way out, avoiding the bloody trouble Homelander had flung into their direction. But something was wrong. I began to sweat, and it didn't stop. Drops of water began covering into my helmet vision, tactical gear cooking my body as the temperature increased. Metal scraping against brick made my ears squeal, quickly retreating into the building for safety. Red lasers danced across the city scape, quickly sawing whatever came into its way.

The building couldn't be any more worst than outside. Scarlet red painted the walls like an artists' touch, the main floor wiped of human life. I was assigned no other job but to simply talk to him, my guys in route watching closely as we made our way to the elevator. Quickly, I swiped my feet at the feeling of someone's touch, backing away in terror. There lay A-Train, who once was the world's fastest man quickly turned to nothing but broken bones. He crawled gently towards my ankle, pleading with his eyes as he winced in pain. "Send a paramedic team in, now. He's still got time" I demanded, the group of SWAT enforced men looked at me puzzled. "You're going up there, alone?..." one brave suit asked, I couldn't see his face but his tone ensured everyone was equally as terrified. I could see right through the supes facade, Homelander didn't scare me not one bit. I nodded my head in approval, the boys quickly sweeping to A-Train's rescue as they steadily carried the poor runner out of the building. I stared at the hopeless elevator entrance ding open, inhaling deeply as the doors closed behind me. Soft elevator music hummed in my ear, steadying my heart beat to a soft thump. I had to be prepared for the worst of it all, he could cut me into two pieces by the time the door opened and nobody would know until it was too late.

39,40...41.....42..........42.....

The elevator came to a holt, its bright led numbers flickering as the music came to a stop. My feet jolted below me, holding steadily to the railing as I waited in silence. He knew I was here. He knew someone was coming. My heart roared through my chest as I struggled to catch my breath, what the fuck was I thinking taking this job?

distress fled into my body, watching the doors pry open to the grip of ruby-red gloves. I fled to the ground, covering my head with my heads, watching the door opening wider. And wider. His cold distilled blue eyes emerged from the peak, analyzing me through the small crack. Homelander demanded, "Take off the helmet and let me see your face", watching my hands unravel from fetal position as my breath quivered. Slowly emerging from my helmet, I took the might of speaking up. "Homelander, I know your stressed... I'm not sure what happened, but.. we can work through this-". In the blink of an eye, the metal doors tore as gracefully as paper, falling into the ever abyss of the metropolitan below. My pupils constricted at the sight of him, his face was dim in expression and yet said so many things. His once "all American dream" blue suit covered in the blood of his coworker's, his hair a frilled mess, mania scampered in his eyes to the sound of his laughs. The dazed man grabbed my neck in a grip, and pulled me towards the gravel of the roof. I could feel my heart drop into my stomach, watching him edge closer and closer to the end of the building. "Homelander, wait.. Homelander please d-don't do this! Listen, okay? I'm Y/N, now you know me. Just tell me what happened, I'll listen!", pleading for my life as my gear scraped across the floor. The crazed supe held my head against the edge, a thousand feet of death kissing my eyes in return.

"They took my son. Away from me. My son is gone. you're going to tell me where he is. Or you can go say hi to your friends for me" he said, my hands pushed in denial as I screamed at the force of his body swinging me back and forth. "Where is Ryan! Goddamnit-where is he!" Homelander roared, his eyes holding threat in a bright neon red, I could feel my life draining from me in the moment. I had to think quick. I could keep my job, and do as I'm told. Or, I could save my life. I could do what I was good at. What Butcher taught me best. Rationalizing.

"Listen- look, okay? I can help you find Ryan, but you got to let me go! Without me, not a single fucking person at Vought would tell you his whereabouts. Besides, what they did to you.. Could be happening to him as we speak. Y-You want that?", my words could be playing with fire. But I had to give it a shot. Homelander laughed in mockery of my bravery, hastily letting go of me as he clapped and laughed in rejoice. The man's madness made me sick to my core. I could feel fresh acid forming like a lump in my throat, but I had to keep composure. I couldn't show I was scared. He would kill me without hesitation. He paced back and forth in thought of my offer, hands on his hips as I tried to catch my breath and pushed up against a corner of the roof. The screams from below echoed like the gates of hell, I could tell it was riling him up. "I have an idea, but.. We need to do it my way. You understand? No diverting, no nothing" I exclaimed, he looked across at me as blood dripped off his icy blonde tips stained a muck brown. "We leave. Now. Before they find out you were responsible for this, we can pinpoint it on another supe and you get Ryan back. Homelander- if this gets on the news...", I carefully stared back into his cold gaze, gulping at the words stuck in my throat. "You might not ever see Ryan again if Vought finds out you did this" I said.

The supe almost took that as a challenge, raising his eyebrow at my comment. "Really? And what makes you think I'll listen to you?" he chuckled, approaching slowly as I backed my heels into the ground. He towered carelessly over me, crouching low to meet my gaze. The smell of death reeked off his clothes, his teeth blinked brighter than the sky filled with mourning souls. Without thinking, the man lifted me carefully and began to back away from the building, I could feel our bodies lift off the ground and up towards the clouds. It calmed me, to know that I was able to do something perfectly for once. The one moment that could've possibly ruined my entire life, I saved myself. But I couldn't save the others

"Before we go.. You want to see something cool? I've been meaning to do this for a while" he chuckled, stopping in position as we levitated above the downtown metropolitan. The feeling of course hot beams almost burned through my suit, as I watched the Vought building explode into an array of flames. The building's base was untouched, Homelander squealed in laughter watching people rush onto the streets like ants. "They had what was fucking coming for them. And they knew it. Nobody to blame but themselves, right Y/N? I mean, you have to agree. We're friends now. And you!-You Are going to get me my boy back", his head shook vigorously as if he agreed with his own sentence, looking at me for the approval of his message. I understood that he was setting me up, but two can play that game. "We need to see Butcher. Now. He'll know what to do" I explained, my eyes refused to watch the city below. I had nowhere to look but right into his eyes. And I prayed that he could feel the hatred feeling through my body. Effortlessly, the dazed supe began to track throughout the clouds, elevating so the bare naked eye could barely see us through the cotton-field of clouds.

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bendycxmet · 1 year ago

Text

Meet Cute—Vash the Stampede

Summary: A new town can be quite lonely by yourself. That is, until you meet someone new.

Word Count: ~1.3k

Content: fluff, modern AU because why not?, whole gang makes an appearance, slight angst (on the reader's part) just for a bit

As you walk along the populated beach, your sandals roll and scratch against the sand-covered pavement, scraping sounds echoing in your ears. The sun is slowly descending on the horizon, fluffy clouds strewn across the sky and painted in lovely shades of pink. Laughter and loud music boom from speakers around you, skaters and runners dodging your slow-moving figure as you look for a quiet spot to enjoy your sandwich and lemonade, water droplets sliding along your hand from your drink on this warm day.

The joyous environment doesn't entirely match how you are feeling on the inside. A new and prosperous job was offered to you sometime after graduation, but this required you to move away from your family, friends, and everything you knew and were familiar with. It was a new chapter in your life, and you knew it had to be done. Although, this big change proved to be not as great as you had hoped it to be.

Sure it might be hundreds of miles away from home, but I’ll finally be working a job I always wanted! I can always go to the beach after work! Always nice to meet new people.

You thought all this before you left, optimistic views of a new start to your life swirling in your head as you moved into your new apartment. But… things were not going quite so smoothly. Everyone at work was either older or too uptight for you to be able to call them a friend. Your neighbors hardly showed their faces. Homesickness was settling in and you were beginning to doubt your decision.

With a heavy sigh, you plop yourself down on the barrier separating the sandy beach from the walking locals enjoying the weather on the sidewalk. Crossing your legs, you bite into your homemade sandwich, spacing out as you peoplewatch. Nearby, you see a volleyball net, a team of four players playing a two vs two match.

Must be nice. You thought, laughter erupting from the pair of girls on one side of the net, the taller one picking up the shorter one and swirling her around in victory. On the other side of the net, you saw a head of black hair buried in the sand, presumably from a missed dig. You watched as his blonde teammate laughed, hands on his knees. You couldn’t get a good look at what he looked like, as his muscular back was to you.

They seem like a close group of friends. Wonder how they got to know each other.

Turning away from the scene as the heaviness in your chest deepened, you gazed out at the deep blue waters, letting your mind flow with the crashing waves that came onto the shore.

“Wolfwood, no! Don’t hit it so hard, there are people around! Oh no… Watch out!”

The loud, chastising voice barely reached your ears before a black and red volleyball entered your sight, hitting the sandwich right out of your hands. You gaped at your now empty hands.

Frantic running could be heard as someone came near.

“I’m so sorry for that! Are you okay?!”

You finally looked up, stunned immediately.

Pretty… is all you could think as your eyes wandered around the stranger's face. It was the blonde guy laughing from earlier, only this time you could finally see what he looked like. Swimmingly beautiful azure eyes rivaling the beauty of the ocean past him stared apologetically at you, a small mole sitting right near the corner of one of his eyes. A metal hairband pulled back his blond hair, and freckles dotted his entire face and body, perhaps from hours spent on this very beach. From up close, you could see he was definitely…muscular.

I need to come to this beach more often.

“-and he just spiked it hard, I’m really so sorry. He can really be a sore loser sometimes.” His apologies finally reached you, pulling you from your ogling.

“It’s just a sandwich, it’s no big deal. I can help feed the local wildlife,” you giggled as a seagull squawked above you, signaling it had noticed the lost sandwich lying in the sand. “You guys seemed to be playing quite the match over there. Who’s winning?” you teased.

The blonde blushed, adding to the pinkness already on his cheeks from the exertion of the game. “I’d rather not say…”

You closed your eyes as you cackled at his embarrassed display, missing the way his blush deepened. He didn’t even say anything that funny…have I really had not that much human interaction lately? You swiped at your eyes, peeking at him with one eye.

Cute… he thought.

“Where are my manners? My name is Vash!” he extends his hand for you to shake. You grab onto his hand, noting the rough callouses on his fingertips and palm. Somehow, his touch managed to be soft and warm other than that.

“And the idiot that hit the ball over there is Nicholas, the tall girl is Milly, and the shorter one is Meryl.”

You introduce yourself as well, giving his hand a light squeeze back as he holds onto your hand a beat longer than normal. His mouth tasted the syllables of your name as he echoed it back to you, grinning as he liked the taste of it on his tongue. He could get used to saying that. He pulled away after, huffing a laugh as he looked away.

You quickly glanced around his shoulder, giving a quick wave to his friends, the girls enthusiastically returning the greeting while the tanned male gave a quick nod.

“I haven’t seen you around here before. We usually come every other day when we can so I’m pretty familiar with the folks here. I think I would notice someone as lovely as you.” Vash noted.

“I’m new in town, actually. I just came out today to enjoy the weather and have a little picnic with myself…” you reply, choosing to ignore his final remark to save your wildly beating heart. You don’t usually like someone this quickly, but Vash seemed to have an energy that drew you to him the instant you met.

I want to get to know him. A small desire in your heart made itself known.

“Is that so? Why alone? An evening like this is wonderful when you have friends to enjoy it with… or a partner…” he pried.

“Haven’t gotten that far here yet,” you smiled wistfully, twiddling with the lemonade cup in your hand.

“Tell you what, let me take you to one of my favorite sandwich shops on the pier one of these evenings. It’s the least I could do after we ruined your picnic,” he offered, a nervous smile etched on his face, scared of your rejection.

“I’d like that.” You smiled, staring back at his fidgety gaze, noting how he carved a path all around your features, taking them in. If you had looked up a second later, you would have missed the way his eyes held a subtle admiration. He finally met your stare when you caught him looking.

“Yay! Ok, I’m so excited, here let me give you my phone number-”

“Oi! Blondie, quit flirting!”

Vash visibly flinched, thumbs freezing over your phone screen. Both of your faces felt hot.

“Sorry about him. Yeah, gimme one sec!” He yelled back.

He paused as he handed your phone back. “Come join us.”

“Oh, are you sure? Your friends wouldn’t mind?”

He shakes his head, offering his hand again to pull you from the barrier. You take his hand and hop down, yet he doesn't take his hand away. “It’s only right. I ain’t leaving you alone after we ruined your evening.”

“Vash, you really didn’t-” your sentence is cut short as Vash begins to run, pulling you with him.

“Hey guys, let me introduce you to my new friend!”

Your heart tightens, only this time it feels lighter and warmer. The sun begins to dip below the horizon, lights turning on along the pier.

Friend, huh?

A/N: I think meeting him for the first time would be so neat :)) anyway reblogs/comments appreciated!!

masterlist

divider by saradika

#vash x reader #trigun x reader #vash the stampede x reader #trigun #trigun stampede #tristamp #vash the stampede #vash fluff #vash x reader fluff #bendycxmet writes

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elisaintime · 7 months ago

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Woah, I must have missed something, why are people jumping down your throat?

From what I can gather at this point, it seems like they feel like anyone who likes Anne Rice herself and the books better than the show=automatically racist. Even if they ALSO enjoy the show and support the race change of the characters and all the racial conversation the show incorporated into its adaptation.

Personally, I think it does a disservice to the fandom to assume that the only reason one could like the books over the show is because of racist reasons. Anne's books speak to so many people in so many ways, especially those who have ever felt like outcasts or apart from mainstream society, and many fans have extremely personal connections to the books for a huge variety of reasons.

Like I said in my videos, I was excited and intrigued to see this AU version of the story (I love AUs!) but my complaints with the writing of the episodes mostly came back to when the show was trying to stick TOO MUCH to the books.... Because the show was really making its own thing with its own versions of the characters and all these new ideas, but then suddenly it would shove in a scene/dialogue straight out of the books which would contradict or make no sense with everything else the show had already worked to set up with the new direction it was taking itself.

Critiquing sloppy/weak writing does not mean I or any other fan who feels the same is doing it for racist reasons. Much of my criticism was about how the scripts changed Lestat's character to make him so much worse than he was in the books (which would be fine, it's their story, whatever--except the show runners told us over and over again that the whole reason Louis was doing a second interview was so that this time we could see the real version of Lestat and how Louis felt about him instead of the mean, insulting version he gave in the first interview). There was a lot promised by the showrunners about what their adaptation would be like that was not delivered ("closer to the books than the 1994 movie," "true to the spirit of Anne Rice" etc). The entire reason I made my videos was to evaluate how well the show measured up to those promises.

Worse than making Lestat so irredeemable, the way the first season ended in a way that made so many fans believe that Louis might have been lying about everything didn't sit well with me at all--it's a harmful stereotype to make the black man a liar, especially when it comes to abuse. I know the "the DV didn't actually happen and black Louis was lying or mind controlled by his evil non-white boyfriend" became a running fan theory, but I personally don't believe it one bit. But I can see why so many fans do--again, sloppy/weak writing on the show's part.

Like I said in my video, the only thing Louis actually lied about in ep7 (and he was lying to himself, not deliberately lying to Daniel) was the depth of his love for Lestat at the end. And that's entirely canon for Louis to deceive himself about--admitting how much he truly loves Lestat always came hard for him. I personally don't think it's going to turn out that anything Louis told us in season 1 was a lie. I think the show would have revealed that at the end of the season, not waited another season (or two or three) to reveal that. And the theme of season 2's promotional material has all been about memory, not honesty. I don't think Louis could mistakenly remember getting dropped from a mile in the sky and the months/years of recovery afterward, so I personally think all those memories were real.

The first three episodes of season 1 made Louis's struggle with race its primary focus, and the series description began with how Louis was chafing at society as a black man. But then from episode 4 on, the focus of the show shifted entirely. Obviously racism still existed in Louis's world, but the show pushed it all entirely to the background with little things, like segregation on the bus, and we saw the characters quietly taking in stride, not making any plot out of it. Suddenly all of Louis's character-driving moments weren't about that anymore and we were in a whole new story, when his battle against racism had been the entire theme of the first three episodes. This was something I noticed and pointed out in my videos--I didn't say it was a bad thing (after all, seeing people be racist to Louis on screen, while "realistic," isn't exactly fun for anyone, and we'd already seen plenty), but I did think the sudden dramatic shift in story focus weakened the show's themes and throughline.

Again this comes down to writing, and the premise/script was written by white people. I think they could have done much better with much more non-white involvement on the writing level. I think the show could have been stronger with some more care taken to create consistency and smoother transitions between episodes (like when they take Claudia out to feed in episode 4, suddenly all the race riots are gone, when everything was on fire 2 hours ago). It's common for shows to have each episode written by a different person, even though they all collaborate in a writer's room, but to me it felt like the show lacked efficient script supervision to make sure all the scripts flowed into each other without any contradictions or inconsistency.

When I talked about these things in my videos, when I said I would have liked the show to do better with the way it missed the mark sometimes in handling racial aspects (even though other parts I commended as being great), and the way I critiqued the inconsistencies and contradictions, some people took that to mean I hated the show entirely. The point of my videos was to see how well the show measured up to Rolin Jones's promises that it was so faithful and respectful to the spirit of the books and that all he wanted to do was honor Anne's work. I know the books back and forth, enjoy having a ND hyperfixation that gives me near-encyclopedic knowledge of the texts and Anne as an author. So people ask me questions about them all the time, especially in comparison to the adaptations. Who better to make videos evaluating how well the show measured up to RJ's promises and claims of faithfulness? But some people took me comparing the show to the books to mean I thought it was a bad thing that they weren't the same, and I hated the show entirely for not being the same as Anne wrote it, and therefore that meant I (and anyone else who loves the books) was racist 🤷

#amc interview with the vampire #vampire chronicles #maven of the eventide

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daedelweiss · 2 years ago

Photo

DTIYS IS HEEEEREEE!!!✨️ wanted to thank you all for your overwhelming support on life mission, the comic, and even my own iteration!! y'all are the sweetest beans and i'm so so happy to share my little blorbos to all of you 💖

this is my first DTIYS so please bear with me 😄 here are some of the rules of my DTIYS:

1. you can change the setting, poses, etc. just keep the 4 brothers together, their outfits, and the starry sky because i associate LM!Leo with stars 🌟 2. tag me and tag the post with #daeslifemissionDTIYS and life mission's official hashtag ➡ #rottmnt Life Mission AU 3. deadline is March 10th!!

i will choose one main winner will win a free colored art of any character and 2 runner ups who will win a cleaned sketch of one character 👀

in case you need help figuring out the bois' full outfit, i have the temporary character sheet of them on "keep reading” section! will be making a full character sheet soon and updated profiles for them though 😄

hope y'all have fun!!! and thank you again 🥰💖 • ( 🌿 please do NOT repost, edit, trace, use, and/or sell 🌿 )

temporary character sheet:

better view of the full piece:

#rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt #tmnt 2018 #unpause rottmnt #unpause rise of the tmnt #save rottmnt #rottmnt fanart #rottmnt leo #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt mikey #rottmnt raph #my ert #rottmnt life mission AU #life mission AU #separated AU #daeslifemissionDTIYS

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espinosaurusrexex · 1 year ago

Text

The Trap - Introduction

Worlds Collide Collection

BuckyBarnes x Female!Reader apocalypse au

summary: Welcome to the apocalypse. This is the introduction to the new world you're about to enter. Let's see what your life is like. Do me a favor and be open, and maybe there'll even be a handsome stranger to meet...

a/n: so this is heavily influenced by The 100 and Love and Monsters and I guess also Maze Runner, if it seems chaotic at times, that’s because it is. With that being said: have fun reading i’d love to hear what you think

word count: 2.2k

warnings: grumpy/sunshine, mentions of death and misery, loneliness, dystopia, nuclear weapon and monster stuff, obnoxiously optimistic reader (give her a chance okay)

collection playlist | main masterlist | collection masterlist

May 10th 2039

Hey Book,

Here are the things that happened today:

found a new pen (that’s great because this one is running out)

watched the acid fog from the building with the tall glass roof (pretty dope if you ask me!)

went to the west border and saw new tracks

finally got the nose right on that Gordon Ramsey sketch (it’s finished, yay!)

gave Berty a makeover

The day has been pretty sweet. I’m thinking of going out tonight to watch the meteor shower. Hope I don’t die.

Anyway, see ya tomorrow!

~You know who :)

The notebook closed with a loud thud that made even you twitch. Your eyes went to the basketball on the shelf above the makeshift bed.

“Sorry, Berty.” The ball didn’t respond, obviously. Its plastic wig shifted slightly further over the marker eyes, making it seem all crooked and funny looking. You weren’t crazy. You just preferred not to talk to yourself.

A look at the window told you that it had gone dark by now. The weather conditions weren’t too great for another acid fog so your plan was good to go. You grabbed your backpack and headed out to the cliffs where you had the best view. Ever since the apocalypse started, there were a lot more stars visible at night. Half the population had been wiped out with the Hydra nukes and the rest played survivor with the mutated animals roaming the earth due to the atomic bombs that had been fired on that day.

You remembered it vividly actually: Bright beams shooting through the sky and then it rained down like hellfire. Green glowing stripes covered the horizon from where you looked down onto the city.

The world hadn’t been that great to begin with to be honest. People were suffering, water and food supplies had shifted into the negative, and don’t even get started on climate. Humans had collectively decided that their planet was going to waste anyway. So, where was the harm in a little more destruction, right?

It’s not like you or any other normal citizen had had a chance to decide on another outcome anyway. The united governments of the world had been infiltrated by an organization with fucked up values and no sense for common human decency. They didn't care that their bombs would wipe out half of the world’s population. Hell, you’d be surprised if they even considered this an argument for their ‘cons’ column. But, hey, it had one benefit after all: if this was the worst it could get, there was nothing left to lose.

You kicked open the door of the buried school bus that had become your temporary home for a while now. Temporary in the sense that there was no way of knowing what would happen or when something would attack. You tried to make them all as cozy as possible though. Berty was a big part of that attempt. The painted basketball had become a loyal companion in your ever-shifting habitats. And even though it was a pain to transport a so unfortunately shaped object, you would never dare leave it behind.

The humid evening air hit you like a broken fan. It was springtime, but that had stopped to matter many years ago. The weather merely shifted between scorching hot days and bearable nights. Though the wintertime was making being outside a little more doable. The trees hung low over your head when you stepped past the traps you had laid out around your home. You lived at the edge of the forest, which wasn’t the most secure place of all the ones you’ve had so far, but it was a little cooler. Most of the dangerous things out there hid several miles from the tree lines anyway.

A dark sky stretched over your head as your feet dangled off the cliff by the forest. You were munching off an old can of beans that you had found on your stroll through the cities as the bright streams of light shot through the sky. It was beautiful and thrilling. Teetering you on the edge of remembering the very day that made this whole shit show go down. The sky was lit up back then too, but it wasn’t half as beautiful as this.

You could have sat like this for hours. The meteors wouldn’t stop passing until the sun rose, but there was a danger of being tired in broad daylight in this world. You couldn’t risk strolling through the morning with half a working brain. Especially because the morning brought a routine acid fog with its sunlight. You took a look at the tactical watch on your wrist. It was 3:30 am - Probably best to head back to safety.

As you stepped through the dried ground, you hummed a song from the old record in your bus. It didn’t work great and it was broken in several places which had you always listening to a slightly messed-up remix of the actual song, but you liked it anyway. Close to the bus, however, there was rustling from the side. Your body went into surviving mode immediately. There was a routine: hide, listen, escape. Only idiots fought whatever was out there.

So that’s what you did.

The tree you hid behind was wide enough to cover you whole, which gave you easy access to sneak your head past the trunk and see what was making the noise. It came from about 20 feet before the buried bus, but there was nothing to be seen. The rustling continued though and as you stepped forwards from your cover, you noticed that it came from underneath. Something had fallen into your trap! It was foolproof of course, but you still approached it with care, fearfully and intrigued all together as to what you had caught this time... well, it was the first time here to be perfectly honest. Even more exciting to say the least.

Your feet crunched the dried leaves beneath you as a mumbled curse reached your ears. That was weird. Last time you checked, monsters didn’t talk. You were even more surprised, however, to find a broad man tangled in the hole you had dug outside your home. Of course, a person had been stupid enough to walk into your trap. You had been so excited about something more dangerous.

The man had not noticed you standing above the hole just yet. He was still working with the net you had splayed out beneath the fallen leaves, too busy cursing his life away in the dirty opening. You cleared your throat after a minute, though. And as amusing as the whole scene had been, the man looking up at you wiped the smirk off your face immediately. He was gorgeous. Bright blue eyes gleamed up in the moonshine, a deep frown on his face as soon as the surprise to see you had faded.

“You got caught in my trap.” You said blankly, still captured by his face. You had not seen another person in nearly a month. It was strange, to say the least. That’s why you weren’t really expecting your mouth to say anything smart.

“This is supposed to be a trap?” The brown-haired man huffed before cutting through the last rope to free him from his restraints.

“Well you can’t get out, can you?” There was a short silence in which you caught the slightest hint of disbelief in his eyes.

“If you wanted to catch a monster with that, you wouldn’t be making such snarky comments. It’s barely deep enough for them.”

Anger crept up your neck. Who was this stranger to not only fall into your - awesome - intruder trap but also criticize your work even though he was the idiot stuck in it? “Why do you think I wanted to trap monsters? Maybe my trap was for people, which, in that case, it is brilliant.”

“It’s stupid,” he grumbled.

“Oh come on give me a little credit, I only had spare materials.”

There was the confused glare again, and you couldn’t really place it just yet.“Yeah, yeah. Trap’s great now get me out.”

“That wasn’t genuine.” Your arms crossed before your chest, but you couldn’t hide the small smile forming on your lips. This was fun.

“You know what’s gonna be genuine? My foot in your ass once I get out of here.” Oh, not so fun.

“That's not a really good way to make me help you, you know?” You were about to step away when you heard him sigh deeply beneath you. A triumphant smirk appeared on your face before you held your head over the hole again.

“Can you please help me out of this genius trap?” The Brunette was rolling his eyes, but it was good enough for you - after all, you didn’t want to make enemies just yet.

“Why of course! I love people that appreciate good handy work!”

You nodded appreciatively and reached for the net he held your way. It took a little bit to get enough momentum but then he jumped and dug his boots into the soil walls and within seconds, the stranger was pulled up from the ground.

“Drop the bullshit.”

“What bullshit?”

Now that he was standing in front of you like that, you noticed how tall he was, and built, too. It was a wonder you had managed to pull his weight out of there now that you thought about it. He was really handsome, too. His dark hair fell into his face and his eyes were bright blue, staring down at you with a gloomy expression. It didn’t scare you, though. You were more... fascinated by him, really.

He looked at you for a second, and the gears were literally turning behind his eyes. But he caught himself quickly, shaking his head and making his way out of the forest. You weren’t ready to have him leave, though. It was rare to meet people now, and this one seemed entertaining enough.

“Hey, where are you going?”

“Away.” You barely heard him over the heavy footsteps he pressed into the ground.

“You can’t go!”

That made him stop. The stranger turned around with an unfazed expression, his shoulders hanging low with annoyance, but you wouldn’t let up. “And why’s that?”

Shit, you hadn’t thought it would get this far. Your hands wrung the net as you stood there looking for an explanation. But the guy turned around with a condescending clicking of his tongue. “Wait! You haven’t told me your name.” You shuffled over to him in haste, you steps faster than his, but it was difficult to catch up to him, still.

“I don’t have to.”

“You do, actually. It’s a rule.” He stopped again, and you almost fell at the abrupt halt.

“A rule,” he repeated in disbelief, his face still unimpressed, but he was quite pretty this way.

You smiled. “Yup. You fall into my trap, you tell me your name.” To be honest, you were a little proud at how fast you had come up with the idea, but it seemed the stranger was still not impressed. He just crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows at you almost amused.

“That's not a rule.”

“It’s my rule.” Was that a tiny smile creeping onto his features? You liked it - looked way better than those broody anger lines.

Then he huffed and shook his head. “Bucky.”

“Gesundheit,” you answered immediately, but that seemed to stick that annoyed look right back onto his handsome face.

“No. Bucky is my name.” Oops.

“Oh. Sorry.” You tried it out in your head, then. And it suited him quite nicely. It was a little odd but witty - just like him.

“Whatever.” His arms untangled before his broad chest and Bucky looked ready to leave again. You didn’t want that, though.

“Would... uh.. would you like to come in?” Why were you so nervous all of a sudden? Your hands were a little sweaty, but talking to someone that actually responded felt so good...

You earned another look with that question. Really, you’d already gotten used to those in the three minutes you knew him - seemed to be his M.O.

“What?” He wasn’t confused this time, at least you didn’t think so. It sounded more like he hadn’t heard you.

“You know... be my guest.” A bright smile spread on your lips, but Bucky wasn’t buying it, and frankly, you were running out of ideas to keep him here. Normally, people were happy to see others around here, but Bucky? He didn’t seem to like talking very much.

“Sorry, gotta go.”

Your eyes found the ground as you heard his steps distancing from you again. “Oh, ok.” You mumbled to yourself, and with a last wash of hope, you called out again. “Will I see you again?”

“No.” He was already by the tree line, now. And Bucky didn’t seem like the type of person to run back the distance in slow-mo like you had seen in those old films.

It didn’t discourage you, though. “Okay, you know where to find me!”

“Not gonna visit you!”

“See ya soon!” You waved and bit back a triumphant smile when you heard him chuckle before he disappeared out of the woods.

Hey, Book, It’s me again.

And, man, what a great day!

more…

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the-fiction-witch · 2 months ago

Text

The Garden Shed

Media - The Maze Runner Series AU Characters - Newt Couples - Newt X Reader Rating - 18 + kissing / groping / fondling / breast play / nipple play Word Count - 1074

As Newt sat on his break, he found a comfortable spot on the soft, lush grass near the vibrant gardens. With a leisurely gaze, he observed the puffy white clouds drifting gracefully across the expanse of the clear blue sky. Occasionally, these clouds would meander before the sun, casting fleeting moments of tranquillity and shade upon the Glade.

He looked up and noticed Y/n approaching, in her usual denim shorts and light blue hoodie, so he sat up a little “Hey love, you alright?”

Y/n sat down beside Newt and let out a whine, "Newt... Why is it so hot?"

Wiping sweat from his brow, Newt gazed out at the scorching sun beating down on the Glade. “It's been like this for days, at least we have the odd cloud,”

"still too hot... Make it cold" she demanded

Chuckling dryly, Newt raised an eyebrow, “Easy for you to say, love. You're not the one in charge of keeping this place running smoothly.”

"I keep this place running," she protests, "Without me, you boys would have no clean clothes," she reminds,

“Well, I suppose that's worth a few cool breezes, don't you think?” He winked.

she sighed and lay against his chest "you’re mocking me,"

Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, Newt pulled her in close, his expression softening. “Don't be daft, love,” he whispered, his lips brushing against her ear. “I'm just tryin' to lighten the mood.” His fingers danced across her scalp stroking though her hair,

"Newt?"

“Mmm?”

"do you boys ever ... Talk about me when I'm not around?" She asked curiously

A hint of a smile played on Newt's lips as he leaned in, “Oh, you want to know what we really think about you, don't you, love?” His breath caressed her ear, “We talk about how bloody brilliant you are at getting under our skins,” he chuckled softly.

"you know what I mean" she playfully shoved his chest,

Newt's grip on her hair tightened, his fingers digging gently into her skin. “You mean, do we gossip about your... assets?” He raised an eyebrow, his voice dripping with amusement.

“Umm,” she nodded,

“Do I look like an idiot, love? Even if they did do you think I’d tell you?”

she pouted, "But do you think the boys... You know?"

Newt's eyes locked onto hers, a knowing glint flashing in their depths. “I think they're all bloody fascinated by you, love,” his voice low and husky. “But as for...specific details?” his lips curling into a sly smile. His gaze drifted downward, his eyes roving over her curves. “I've seen the way boys look at you,” Newt's voice dropped to a whisper, his tone laced with intrigue. “And I think many boys have been wanting to...get closer for quite some time now.” Newt's fingers trailed down her arm, “Don't tell I said anything, love,” he whispered urgently.

she nodded "What about you?"

Newt's chest rose and fell with a slow, deliberate breath. “Well… I've been wanting to get closer to you for far longer than most boys have, love,” his voice low and husky, his words dripping with intimacy. “Honestly? I think I've been obsessed with you since the moment I met you.” His fingers wrapped around her wrist, holding her captive. “You drive me bloody mad, Y/n,” he growled his face inches from hers.

she softly Giggled "Do you ever... Think about me? When in not around?"

“Oh, love, I think about you constantly,” his voice a low, throaty purr.

"what about... After lights out when you all alone?"

“After lights out, love... I think about you so very much,” his voice barely above a whisper, his words dripping with seduction. “I lie in bed, feeling the weight of my responsibilities as second-in-command...and then I imagine what it would be like to have you under me.” His fingers tightened around her wrist, pulling her closer. “To feel your skin against mine, to taste your lips.”

"do you imagine how nice it would be having the only girl in your arms?"

“Oh, love, I don't just imagine it,” his voice was a low, husky growl. “I crave it.” He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against her ear. “I want to hold you so tightly, to feel your warmth seep into my bones.” His hands squeezed her tight, “To feel like I'm home” he whispered, his breath sending shivers down her spine.

"do you imagine... Touching things that only girls have?"

“Yes, love,” his voice barely above a whisper, his words dripping with longing. “I imagine touching you everywhere.” His fingers trailed down her sides, coming to rest on the curve of her hips.“Your thighs, your belly, your breasts …” He paused, his eyes flashing with desire. “And most especially,” he whispered, his lips grazing her earlobe.“...your lovely little cunt.”

She blushed and softly Giggled,

Newt's grin spread wide across his face, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Oh, love, You're so bloody adorable when you blush.” He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against hers almost kissing her. “Let me show you just how much I adore it,” he whispered, his breath sending shivers down her spine. His hands slipped beneath her hoodie, cupping her breasts in his palms. “Perfect, just like the rest of you,” he murmured, his thumbs tracing circles around her hardening nipples.

she gasped Blushing hard, his hands making her softly moan and rub her thighs together trying to conceal her excitement,

Newt's eyes gleamed, his fingers deftly manipulating her sensitive nipples, “Oh, love, you're so responsive,” he breathed, his voice husky with desire. He pinched her nipples gently, watching as she arched her back in pleasure. “You're the goddess of the Glade.” His hands continued to tease her breasts, his fingers rubbing and tugging at her skin until she was squirming against him, “Shh, love, nice and quiet we don’t want the other boys to hear you do we?” he cooed, mouth closing over hers in a possessive kiss.

Y/n gasped but kissed him back melting into his actions,

Newt's kiss deepened, his tongue probing the depths of her mouth as he continued to caress her breasts.

“Come on, love,” he whispered, breaking away from their kiss to trail hot kisses down her neck. “We need to find a place where we can be alone.” He glanced around the Glade, his eyes scanning the surrounding area before settling on the nearby garden shed, “Shall we?”

she gulped and nodded excitedly,

So Newt got to his feet and pulled Y/n’s hand to bring her to her own, sharing a tender kiss before they both bolted through the grass towards the Garden shed.

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artsycervidae · 3 months ago

Text

Untitled #1

Summary: Gyutaro helps his sister out of a tight situation at school. But their troubles reach beyond the bounds of education.

Word Count: 4.5k

Author's Note: I don't have much explanation for this. I was playing in the hoodie-based daydreams and the 'repurposed' jacket. I've also been listening to a lot of YA lately. So I respun their snow scene for a modern AU angle. This is like a flashback chapter I guess? Have fun.

Warnings ahead: delinquent behavior, parentalization of children, domestic violence, extreme bullying, implied sexual harassment of a child (Ume's tragic backstory being foreshadowed), and Gyutaro's whole everything (self-harm, briefly considers kicking a puppy, patronizing misogyny)

Crack!

A volley of cheers chase the ball as it soars into the outfield. High school players scramble, red high-visibility jerseys flashing in time to sprinting steps. The player in blue lowers his bat, disbelieving and frozen for a moment. "Run Monjiro!" a loud command explodes from the pit. His other teammates clap and holler as he bursts into action. He bolts for first base and, a wild grin on his face, dares to steal second. Even from the middle school building, the athlete's exerberance is palpable. But the middle school sits uphill from both the field and high school-- it's easy to see anything from that vantage point.

Gyutaro watches, his own bat tapping the ground in impatient count. His empty hand idly scratches the spot behind his ear and his uneven nails rake thin lines into his scalp. He should recognize the name but he doesn't. Only the voices, attributed to faces that he passes on a near-daily basis in droning hallways. The cigarette hanging off his lower lip burns down to the filter. The acrid taste used to bother him more than the smoke. Now, what he wouldn't give to have a whole pack for himself-- but then, he couldn't help but imagine the rich tobacco rolled in yen bills. Burning through money when they had so little of it was something his mother did. He would rather smoke every butt off the street for the rest of his life than deprive his sister of a single cent.

The loudmouth is up next. He rolls his shoulders and gestures grandly to his second base comrade, pointing with a blue steel bat and declaring intentions to bring everyone home and end the game early. It's hubris in the disguise of kindness-- the overcast clouds have become fat and white, and the wind nips at everyone's cheeks and noses. Gyutaro prepares himself, spitting the litter back onto the ground and crushing it under his heel.

The blue team ambassador steps up to the plate, and Gyutaro mirrors the behavior. His feet spread to shoulder width, his hips cock, and his arms pull back. Even now his posture is wrong, and he knows it. The acute, tugging pain between his shoulder blades deters correction. His spine won't--can't-- twist that way. No matter. Gyutaro only needs a single, powerful swing. The batter cackles, and the blond pitcher shouts something that sounds admonishing. But then he reels back and throws the ball.

Crack!

A flawless home run, right over head of the second base runner, who predicts victory. He runs for it. The crowd goes crazy. The ball has been launched so high that even Gyutaro loses sight of it in the snowdrift sky. He finishes his silent count anyway. He swings.

SMASH!

His bat crashes into the nearby window. Gyutaro moves with the swing and breaks into a run for the school's front yard. It had been clear only two minutes ago-- he made sure of it-- but suddenly, there's someone there in the form of a smudge, barely there in the corner of his vision. He doesn't know if they spot him as a dark blur before he darts for his escape route. He kicks aside the rock that served as a makeshift doorstop and yanks the service door closed behind him. The card-reader outside won't stall the mystery person if they're a school employee, though. So he doesn't stop.

He runs down the hall to the locker room and begins opening lockers. Upon his first two pilferings, he pushes the bags around in exasperation. He pockets the spare money sitting unguarded before leaving them be. The third is empty. In the fourth locker is a giant, ugly red jacket. It must be sentimental or one of the adult's. It's far too big for a child or teenager. It's old too-- the cotton is rough on his dry skin. Too many hot water wash cycles. The black pattern on it is erratic, rivulets of ink crookedly dripping down between bold gutters.

It's an ugly article. But it's unlike the dark denim he currently dons, and something about it strikes a sympathetic chord with him. He empties his pockets into the red hoodie and takes it, abandoning the denim one in one of the dozens of lockers to be lost then found. He leaves the baseball bat propped against the bench then moves on, leaving through the gymnasium and toward the hallway.

This time, he opens the door carefully and peers through the crack first. His objective is four doors down the hall, but there still stands an obstacle. The teacher lingers outside the door, a flash of bandage obscured as he methodically smooths the fabric over his forearms. He moves so slowly and easily that Gyutaro mentally swears at him. 'Go on. Hurry up, bastard. Move! Check it out, you asshole.'

With pursed lips and a presentable appearance, the teacher finally obliges. He strides for the closest exit, which is a more direct route to the side of the building that overlooks the baseball field. Gyutaro planned it this way. The seal cracks-- a sudden flood of shouting voices, near and far-- and when the door falls heavily back into its frame, silence settles again. Gyutaro slinks from the gym and quietly jogs down to the open classroom.

Ume stands suddenly, her hands pushing off the desk she was pouting at. He can see the flash of fear in her eyes, so he clasps his hands jovially. "... Weather check. Snow's coming, so I'm taking you home." Her jaw unclenches. "Get ready," Gyutaro commands and she nods obediently. As she pulls her outdoor shoes and jacket from her gym bag (she slyly kept her belongings on hand-- smart girl), he stands guard and strains to listen. Nobody comes for them. Neither the gym nor hallway exits are disturbed.

"Ready," Ume announces. Gyutaro leaves his post as sentry, wheeling around desks to meet her at the window. She opens it as he takes her duffel bag, lugging it over his shoulder before he swings himself over, bag and all. She tosses her backpack out and perches on the windowsill. He holds his arms out for her to steady herself, and then she drops to her feet.

"Hurry, hurry," he whispers as she picks up her bag, and they hustle. He tugs on her arm to slow her when he sees the small crowd forming at the southeast corner of her school. Thankfully, nobody is looking their way at all. Everyone seems preoccupied with a sports-related mishap. He's scrawny enough that he could be mistaken for an oversized preadolescent from afar. But one look at his face-- his bruised eyes, broken teeth, and cynical scowl-- betrays his true nature as an abominable creature... the godforsaken teen. He wants to maintain that distance, and the upper hand. "Did they already make you call Mom?"

He can feel her bicep tense as she grimaces. "Yeah. I got her voicemail. We were waiting for her to answer, so they could arrange a meeting."

This wasn't so much a problem. Their mother had a habit of vanishing for periods at a time, leaving her personal phone in a drawer by the front door as a sign for her children to figure shit out on their own. Gyutaro had a system for this by now. "I'll listen to it when we get home and smooth it over," he promises. They pass the fence dictating the school yard property-- they are home free now. He releases his hold on her and they fall into a natural pace. "What the hell did you do to that guy?"

Ume sticks out her lower lip and her eyebrow twitches.

"Better yet," he amends, "what did he do to deserve it?"

Her attitude unexpectedly strikes him. "None of your business," she snaps.

He blinks and curls his upper lip with dismay. "It is my business when you get held after school," he bites in return. "Let me tell you the rumors: he's already saying you stabbed him unprovoked, talking some trash about how you came to ask his kid for lunch money. And when the kid wouldn't give you any, you threatened him with a pencil but stabbed the teacher instead."

"That's not what happened!" She glares at him, as if he had anything to do with this mistake. "He was the one who came to me! He wanted me to eat lunch with him again, so I told him to give me money so I could get it for us. But he said--" She stammers over the words twice, thrice, then abandons them for her previous thought. "I just wanted him to give me the money. Since he paid for yesterday's lunch, too, remember? And he kept saying no, so I... I just wanted to scare him. I didn't know that the teacher was going to grab me. I freaked out."

It makes more sense to him now. "Settle down," Gyutaro soothes. "I don't blame you. I just... hate what's happened." Namely, he hates that she was sent to school without food and that he was being nagged at after class when he should have been the one shaking kids down at lunch. She wasn't supposed to accept unsolicited kindness to begin with. But that was in the past-- he couldn't blame her for being hungry or for trusting someone who offered good intentions, the son of a teacher, no less. She still lacks the valuable insight her brother tried to instill her with: Authority isn't a title so much as it is a threat and a weapon.

"I didn't even stab the teacher," she adds, "... too much. The lead broke off in him but that's it. The nurse said it probably didn't need stitches. It's not like I used a knife or hairpin."

"He didn't involve the police, did he?"

"No." She swallows, but even that doesn't stop her from choking up halfway through her explanation. "But... that stupid kid wouldn't stop smiling when I was getting yelled at. When the teachers looked at him, he would pretend to be all serious and hurt... if it weren't for all those adults, I would have hurt him for real."

Gyutaro swears to remedy this injustice. He doesn't know how yet, but he will. "Let's get home and warmed up first," he schemes, "and then I'll handle everything at school." He takes his sister's hand and squeezes it, receiving a lackluster pulse in response. His thoughts are torn. A part of him has to acknowledge that he's only just begun his high school career. With two more years to go, he's already landed a spot on most teachers' shit lists, without physically fighting them thus far. If he tries to intimidate another educator-- one from a school Gyutaro had already been evicted from--he may get kicked out for good.

His mom always insisted that her eldest son would one day throw his future down the drain. During the worst of their arguments, this terrible truth cut him down to the bone. Now, it twinges at his heart like an old injury foretelling a storm. If he proves their mom right, then what will that mean for Ume? He needs all his focus and willpower to plot his sister's vengeance and get clean away with it.

Something is wrong, though. Ume stares into the distance with an uncharacteristically pensiveness... like all in her mind is muted. She shivers and it's only then he realizes how cold the temperature has gotten. They're nearly home, but he doubts Ume can manage the rest of the trek without a break. Her shoulders are drawn in tightly, hugging herself and trying to turtle into her own denim jacket. It was a bleach-splattered hand-me-down she had patched up, bedazzled, and marked excessively with a rainbow of permanent markers, making it entirely her own. She clearly picked it this morning in hopes of looking good, not for its insulation.

"Come here," he sighs, jerking his head to a nearby bus stop. Its cover from the wind alone will make all the difference. Soft, white flurries drift into view by the time Gyutaro's skinny ass falls on the bench. He heaves air in and out of his lungs, feeling the ebb and pull of his diaphragm, watching vapor appear and vanish before his eyes. He unconsciously moves to straighten his posture fraction by fraction; the familiar pinch of pain escalates until it's a hand grasping him by the spinal column.

Ume disrupts his ritual. She slouches and leans into his clavicle as her arms snake around his waist. He scoffs out a laugh-- he doesn't know what body heat she's searching for, but the gesture is one so familiar that it takes him a moment to push her away. "You're too old to be cuddling me, Ume."

"Please."

The cold finally settles into his body, and somehow he hears the fear and hurt in her voice at the same time. All resistance leaves him and he instead unzips his jacket, ceding one of the sleeves to her. She tucks into his chest and zips the hoodie up as high as she can without misaligning its teeth. He feels silly for not expecting her clinging after the bad day she's had. Another thing she never outgrew: the animal need to be held and comforted when uneasy. In that way, she will always be his baby sister.

The proximity rings reminiscent to other pin points of their shared lifeline: a toddler and infant laid down for the same naptime in the same laundry basket under the same blanket; two elementary kids sharing a futon because Ume still believed in nocturnal cannibals and wanted to be protected; two students lounging on the couch, a blanket thrown over their legs as she reads a beauty magazine and he plays a game, killing time while the heater was broken.

His sister sniffs and picks at the hoodie. "Where did you get this? It smells like cigarettes."

He doesn't have a magazine to distract her with. But he reaches into the jacket's large pocket and withdraws the very same portable game system he had stolen from a schoolmate years ago. "Here," he tells her, then as she boots it up he says, "Beat this guy for me."

As the brass horns of the soundtrack play through tinny, aged speakers, Ume hums at his in-game decisions. "Can't you just brute force your way through?"

"I could. I don't want to though. I want to beat him using this team."

She goes to the in-game shop--

"Don't spend all my money."

"I won't!"

-- and splurges on items she doesn't need. Gyutaro withholds from sighing in exasperation. He watches her assess her starting point and begin the trial. Her first opponent is easy, but she struggles because she didn't check her team and their moves and abilities. The second opponent wipes her team out, erasing her progress and sending her to the last respawn. She pauses at the beginning of the trial again.

"... Am I a bad kid?"

The question takes the breath out of Gyutaro. "What? No. Of course not. Who said that?"

She didn't need to give him a direct answer: instead she released a shaking sigh. Pearl-like tears bead at her eyelashes before falling down her cheeks. "I don't know why everyone was so angry at me." Her voice creaks, and a whine starts in the back of her throat. "We were both a part of that fight, but he got to go home on time. I missed lunch and dinner, and nobody would listen to me.

"They kept saying I should have been polite because he was doing me a favor. But nobody asked why he wasn't being kinder. Like, why did he start a fight if he was going to have to call for his dad?" her voice warbles. She swallows hard and tries to clarify: "I was so alone. It was unfair. Nobody was on my side. And I wished so badly that you were there... They kept saying that bad kids like me could lose their families... and that if I didn't act better, then I'd be taken away from you and Mom."

Gyutaro studies her. She's supposedly unhurt, and yet he recognizes the way her brows knit together and her lips peel away from her teeth. It's an expression he only ever saw on himself, in brief moments when his bullies would snap embarrassing photos of him beaten down and crying: evidence of him at his lowest. In text chains and email posts, he bore witness to a simulacrum of his cornered self through the lens of how everyone else viewed him. A figment that held no autonomy or freedom to fight back, and who should have done things differently--or simply not been his own self-- if he didn't want to be so pathetic. A sad sack. Wretch. Coward.

He seizes Ume around her middle, squeezing all that fear and worry out of her. She squeaks the air out of her lungs, but before she can complain he overwhelms her. "You're not alone, Ume. I'll never leave your side. Even hungry and cold, you're not scared at all, right? Look at you, standing up to a room full of idiot adults, and then breaking out! You're the bravest person I know."

She's startled, but allows herself to be squeezed and rocked by him. With each little sway, fear is filtered out of her, leaving only the surreal relief that comes from a good hug. Fluttering agony in her ribcage becomes a warm, singing fondness. "Says you. I can't believe you snuck into school for me. I was so scared I was going to have to tell them Mom was gone. I knew they wouldn't let you come to get me."

At the same time, she knew all along her brother would come for her. With their mother off on another one of her long absences, he is the one responsible for her. When Ume is hurt or scared and the whole world is collapsing around her, it is her big brother who puts the pieces back together, reminding her that nothing is ever a big deal as long as they have each other.

Her defenses melt away, until he pushes her out of his jacket, determining that they had warmed up enough to make the walk back home. Even then, she clings to his back by balling her cold fingers into the excess red and black fabric, ignoring her brother's complaints of her dragging him down. Everything she's been holding back threatens to burst out of her. "Will you come back to middle school with me?" she asks.

Gyutaro guffaws out loud.

"I mean it!" she wails, even though she can hear how stupid she sounds. He already walks her right up to the middle school yard before making his long, lonely route to the neighboring high school. (He'd been caught trespassing through enough times that there now stands a proctor in the yard at most times of day.) He sneaks out at lunch time to make sure she eats, then passes on after-school activities to walk her home. He's done everything short of turn back time so that their ages could match as lifelong companions.

"How about you hurry and grow up?" he suggests before he's yanked to a stop altogether. He frowns and pulls his limbs to no avail-- she's captured him in a sudden hold. "Ume?" She's hurting him, seizing onto his arms with a vice grip that makes him worry initially that somehow he is the one hurting her.

"I don't want to go back without you," she confesses. "Can I call out sick tomorrow? Please?"

He hesitates and looks down at her big, watery eyes before saying, "Sure... we'll say you got sick from the weather."

She doesn't need to explain it to him--the hum of a live wire hangs in the air between them. But her brother thinks of her as brave, so she swallows down her uncertainty and tells him: "He was my boyfriend."

That stops Gyutaro's brain in its tracks. "... You have a boyfriend?" He can't help sounding hurt that she didn't trust him with this knowledge before its ugly fallout. She was getting older. There were steadily less milestones to celebrate, and her first crush had come and gone without a single ounce of fanfare. No sooner than he says this, Ume's displeasure twists her face. "You have a boyfriend," he repeats, letting that argument go.

"Had," she corrects. "I broke up with him because..." She teeters on the edge of another secret, but shakes her head dismissively. "I don't want to see him. I don't want to go to school anymore."

"Don't say that," says Gyutaro before she can consider running away. "I'll get you a sick day tomorrow, but you're going back after that. He's not going to retaliate, and you're not going to get in trouble. Don't let him win by scaring you off."

Ume jerks Gyutaro around by the back of his jacket again, clinging to him like a little spider monkey. "But his dad is a teacher!"

"I'm aware." He raises his arm and loops it around her shoulders. She stumbles, but he doesn't let her fall. Instead, he pulls her along in his stride. "And you're a student. You should get to go to school without worrying about how boys will treat you, Ume. I told you. I'll handle it. Now, do you wanna take the bath first while I make us some ramen?"

Of course she does. She loves to take her time and all the hot water, experimenting with exfoliants and perfumes and lotions like a little mad scientist. Gyutaro jolts as if to race her, and she abandons him, zipping up the stairwell in a flurry of shouts and fast-flying feet. Sometimes, he would overtake her and push her out of the way in a last-second display of brotherly cruelty. Not today. A glance over her shoulder confirms he's still making his way up the flight behind her, weighed down by her duffel bag; she twists to swing her backpack off her shoulder before she screams to a halt in front of the only door with a huge dent in the bottom corner. She finds her key among the mess of her supplies and hurriedly shoves her key into the lock. Ume has to yank it with all her body weight to dislodge the crooked hinge. It groans but relents.

She bursts in, tearing through the apartment and into her room like a hurricane. Then she's blockading herself in the bathroom while clutching her basket of shower goodies like a prize.

Gyutaro enters shortly after she's sequestered herself away, his chest heaving. This is not a symptom of his exertion as his sister would believe. He stumbles into the kitchen and grips the counter, baring his teeth and trying to tamper down the rising tide of bile. His hands shake, incapable of holding in so much hate.

He barely keeps his shit together until Ume's pop music thumps from the other side of the door. Then he drags his uneven nails up and down his throat, wishing he could peel the skin away and wash it down the drain. The trickle of a snarl cracks his throat, and the loathsome noise brings him to the full peak of his anger. Keratin rips his skin and he feels his neck flush hot. Swearing, he twists the tap to full blast and cups his hand under it, splashing himself. He soaks his new jacket in water and blood. Ume yelps from the other room, and he shuts the kitchen faucet off quick. He tenderly taps at the self-inflicted cut, hissing through his teeth and seething.

He refuses to accept any of this: Some brat thinks he can sully Ume's childhood with his own selfish agenda, as though his delights and joys were more valuable than hers. And there was the father's audacity to use his beneficial position... Fuck broken windows. Fuck the disembodied threats of an invisible parental figure... it was due time for them to pay for taking advantage of Shabana Ume.

But he had to deliver a real message. He wouldn't settle for something basic like kicking the boy's dog while out on a walk, or holding the teacher up with a knife in some dark corner at night... why hope for a fated meeting when he could strike them at the heart? Break into their house. Take whatever looks pricey before ransacking and destroying the kitchen. See how they like it, being starved of peace of mind. He needs only their address. He pushes himself away from the sink, steering right for the drawer holding the family laptop and Mom's phone.

The phone is an afterthought-- when he yanks the drawer open, it slides out into view. The charger port bangs in the corner which lights up the screen.

Three missed calls from Ume's school. A voicemail from Ume's school.

A missed call from an unknown number.

Plots of vengeance vanish from his mind. Something far more dangerous and sinister takes its place. It's too soon for anyone to be looking for her... no way. No way someone actually gave a shit enough about their mom that someone wanted to check on her.

He sucks air into his lungs and straightens his spine-- the slight curve strains against him, threatening to break if he doesn't bend. His fingernails rake through his hair, across his chest, and down his arms. He's trying to breathe, but his head feels too light and his vision is going red. When would they ever catch their breath?! Why is the universe conspiring against them so?

'... bad kids like me could lose their families... and that if I didn't act better, then I'd be taken away from you and Mom.'

He had bought them three months. For nine weeks, he and his sister evaded the government's prying eyes and the foster system's needling fingers. Failure after failure, Gyutaro sees the worst case scenario laying itself before him. The investigations. The police. The questions. What if they find the body? What if they blame him? What if he says he found her dead?

... It's inevitable. Nobody will believe him. There is no shortage of neighbors who can attest to the shouting matches that the Shabanas could have. The dent in the door was testament to the son's brutish rage-- a superhuman strength paired with delirious decision-making, the lengths to which he would go to in order to get what he wanted. At first glance, he was a sick boy. At second, a deeply misguided youth... but to all those who could bear a third look, there was something else lurking under his skin. Even his mother had been long convinced that 'Gyutaro' was only a disguise for a demon. Nobody who knew him ever afforded him the benefit of the doubt.

What if even Ume learns to look at him with horror and distrust, the way everyone else does?

Unacceptable. He won't allow it. He has to buy them more time.

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #gyutaro shabana #daki shabana #gyutaro #ume shabana #demon slayer fanfiction #gyuutarou shabana #gyuutarou #daki #ume #kny fanfic #kny fanfiction #demon slayer fanfic #jacket au

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mightybog · 11 days ago

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Twenty Questions for Fanfic Writers

Thank you @liviapeleia for the asks <3!!

Tagging longtime frond @breadkween, fabulous runner of @merlinmicrofic @queerofthedagger (thank you!) and reader and writer who's left me lovely comments @achillesuwu. @mythandmagic, Ao3 is down rn so I can't check but if you have any fics yourself, here's an ask game for you! There's no obligation, presh or time limit of course! Also like @liviapeleia said before me, consider yourself tagged if you see this!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

265,960

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Right now just Merlin. I've written for other fandoms in the past but each of those works have been standalone.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Always His Destiny | Merlin | A true love's kiss, resurrection and golden age AU written for Glompfest 2024.

Like Every Tree Stands On Its Own | Merlin | A longfic inspired by other Arthurian media/sources featuring Wildman Prophet!Merlin and a magical forest. This is my magnum opus.

What's Mightier Than a Sword and Robs a Prince of His Servant? | Merlin | Pre-slash Merthur minor canon-divergence in which Merlin's talents in speech writing land him a promotion and Arthur is Not Pleased™.

Only Human | Venom | A short gift/exchange fic about masturbation, lol. The fic I received in exchange was also about masturbation. In my defence this was a writing exercise (I promise).

The Sky Is Falling | Nightvale | Unfinished fic about alcoholism recovery, love, community and the complete collapse of reality.

...Okay wow what a mix :D

5. Do you respond to comments?

I really love comments and I love getting into discussions with readers! It really makes my day to see that someone has commented on one of my fics.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Am I allowed to choose a soon to be published WIP? Words Are Dead, a microfic inspired by the Agnes Obel song of the same name in which Merlin and Arthur are unable to communicate when Arthur returns. Merlin has lost Brythonic, his first language, and his capacity to relearn it. He's simply been alive for far too long and his mind has suffered :(

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Like Every Tree has a prolonged bittersweet kind of ending but I think Always His Destiny wins.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Nope/not yet!

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes, though so far it hasn't been the focus of any of my works, there's no reason why that can't change though (the Venom one doesn't count, I make the rules here). As to what kind I'd say loving and intimate, I guess? Sometimes with a bit of a hurt/comfort element to it. Again, no reason why I can't branch out in the future ;)

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

While not labelled as a crossover, Like Every Tree was heavily inspired by Arthurian media both new and old, and one medieval Irish source. I did so much research for this fic and I'm still down those various rabbit holes. It was a homage to my favourite, janky cartoon movie from my childhood Quest for Camelot. Otherwise I don't write proper crossovers.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Don't think so.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Also don't think so.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No but I would love to!

14. What’s your all time favourite ship?

I guess it really has to be Merthur! I don't recall a ship ever having such a hold on me. Those two are doomed but made for each other. The way they interact is so much fun to read/write.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Damn, this is definitely Be Here When the Weather Turns, a Mushi-shi fic. It has a very soft, restful and liminal vibe and I adore it. I really do wish I can finish it someday. So sometimes like a song, you share a piece of media with someone, or you associate it with a particular chapter in your life, and that song/piece of media brings up feelings. I'd like to think it's still worth a read. If you don't know Mushi-shi, please consider checking it out, it was weird and quiet and beautiful.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I can't deny that I put a lot of love into this hobby. Also @breadkween has told me that they really like my dialogue :3

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I'm really prone to typos. I can re-read something a hundred times and just fail to see them. I'm a very slow writer; what I put out usually goes through months of edits and change-ups. Lastly I have embraced a faux-pas or two for fun, such as starting sentences with 'and.' And no one can stop me >:)

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I'd only be comfortable writing dialogue in a language I've formerly learned and have some level of familiarity with for fear of getting something wrong.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Okay I love this question because the answer is the highly formative Garth Nix's Keys to the Kingdom series, a YA series I was obsessed with, and have continued to read, and re-read as an adult and as unexpected prequels and sequels popped up in more recent years. I wrote it on a literal floppy disk :D First fandom I wrote for that I actually published online was Undertale.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

Definitely Like Every Tree. I'm just really proud of it :3

#ask game #Ao3 went down while writing this #I had to employ strange and unusual tactics to be able to paste in the links #merlin fanfic

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