#so you COULD say that she’s the one that ended up in hell

[spaceman-earthgirl]

they say time heals all wounds

Agatha wants to see Rio. Which is a drastic change from wanting to kill her a few days ago, but here she is.

She’s spent the last few hundred years avoiding Rio, hating her, but she doesn’t quite hate her anymore.

Agatha’s not quite sure how she knows, but she can feel Rio somehow, knows exactly where she is.

One moment she’s thinking about her and then next minute Rio is there. She’s standing on the side of the road, watching a car crash, watching as people panic and even Agatha can tell it doesn’t look good.

Agatha knows Rio is waiting, knows it’s someone’s time.

Agatha floats towards Rio, and then when she realises she hasn’t been noticed she has a fun idea.

“Boo!”

Agatha relishes in the way Rio jumps, the way Rio’s glare in her direction turns to surprise when she realises Agatha shouldn’t be here.

“You’re a ghost.”

“I know,” Agatha laughs. She does a spin in the air. She was upset in the beginning but she’s been having fun.

“I hate ghosts.”

Agatha grins this time. “I know.”

Rio rolls her eyes, turning back to the scene in front of her. “What are you doing here?”

“Billy was sleeping and I was bored. And I wanted to see you,” Agatha adds after a moment.

The myriad of emotions that flicker across Rio’s face are entertaining. Rio has always been easy to read, and Agatha sees it all now. The surprise that she’s with Billy, which turns into a knowing look, like she knew Agatha would end up with him. Then the surprise and confusion that Agatha wanted to see her.

Agatha can see that Rio doesn’t quite trust her words, doesn’t quite believe she really is here to see her. Like Agatha has some hidden agenda, like she’s up to something.

Which with her track record is a fair assumption.

But not this time.

Rio picks one part of Agatha’s words to focus on, the part she already knows about.

The easy part.

“You’re still with Billy?”

“We’re a coven, aren’t we? No witch left behind, or whatever it is.”

Rio laughs, her eyes lighter than Agatha has seen in a long time. Something cracks in her chest, something she’s going to ignore.

“So, what’s going on there?” Agatha asks, nodding to the accident in front of them.

It’s an obvious ploy to change the subject, but Rio lets her.

“There’s an old man, he lost control while driving. He’s not going to make it despite the paramedic’s best efforts.”

Agatha sees it, the moment the man dies, his ghost appearing. She’s never seen this part before.

Rio nods towards the scene. “Well, that’s my cue.”

“Have fun with Grandpa.”

Rio rolls her eyes but salutes.

Agatha hasn’t felt like this in a long time.

read the rest on ao3 or under the cut

—

Agatha knows exactly where Rio is the next time she tries to find her too.

Rio jumps again when Agatha appears next to her, and this time there’s only a glare that Rio sends her way.

“Don’t do that.”

“You’re surprised there’s a ghost in a cemetery?”

Rio shoots her another look. At least that hasn’t changed.

“What are you doing here?”

“Can’t a girl visit Death from time to time without an explanation?”

“You never do anything without thinking it through,” Rio points out, which also hasn’t changed. Rio knows her, always sees through whatever she is doing.

“Well, I’m a ghost, isn’t this where I belong now?”

Rio rolls her eyes, amusement clear in her look.

“You do make a very attractive ghost, by the way. This is a good look on you,” Rio says, waving her hand, indicating Agatha’s whole body.

Agatha flushes from head to toe, or at least she would if she could flush. It still makes her feel warm.

“What can I say,” she says, flourishing her hands. “I can make anything work.”

Rio goes to shove Agatha, realising last minute that she can’t, that Agatha is a ghost. She doesn’t stop her hands fast enough though, and to the surprise of them both, instead of Rio’s hands going straight through her, her hands make contact and Agatha is jostled to the side.

“What the hell?” Rio asks, looking down at her hands.

“I don’t know, that’s your department,” Agatha says, righting herself, just as surprised as Rio is. She’s touched things before as a ghost, but it takes a lot of concentration and is only for a short period of time. She wasn’t even thinking about it this time.

Rio pokes her arm, hard.

“Ow,” Agatha says, annoyed as she rubs her arm. “What was that for?”

Rio is frowning. “Just…checking.”

Rio’s hand returns to the spot she’d poked, but this time her hand soothes over the spot.

Agatha can feel it, the touch solid and warm.

“Well,” Rio says, eyebrow quirking. “That’s interesting.”

Agatha shakes off her hand, both the look and touch too much. “Yeah, well, just because you can, it doesn’t mean you can touch me.”

Rio holds up her hands in surrender, and Agatha suddenly wants them back on her. She’s missed Rio’s touch.

“Billy found his brother,” Agatha says, changing the subject.

Again, Rio lets her. “Don’t tell me that, you know they shouldn’t exist.”

“You won’t hurt them,” Agatha says.

Rio softens. “No, I won’t.”

She knows Rio won’t. She knows Rio would never do anything to hurt her. Not again.

She can see how much she’s hurt Rio too, and it’s suddenly too much again.

But Agatha can’t help it, she’s the one that reaches out this time, feels solid skin as her finger caresses Rio’s jaw.

“Until next time,” Agatha says, vanishing before Rio can say anything.

—

Agatha finds Rio people watching.

The street is crowded: people walking, people driving, people stopping in to look at shops or sitting outside crowded cafes and restaurants.

“Is someone going to die?” Agatha asks by way of greeting. She almost hopes the answer is yes. She misses watching Rio work.

Rio doesn’t look Agatha’s way, but she doesn’t miss the way Rio’s shoulders relax slightly with Agatha by her side.

“Not here,” Rio answers.

They stand in silence, just watching. Agatha isn’t sure what Rio is seeing but it’s kind of nice, the bustling crowd. It makes her forget for a moment that she’s not a part of the world any more.

But then Agatha gets bored, and what’s a bored ghost to do if not annoy others?

She sticks her foot out, making it solid, tripping the next person who walks by. It’s a young man and he stumbles, but unfortunately manages to right himself without actually falling over.

Agatha purses her lips. “Damn.”

Rio is trying not to smile when Agatha glances her way.

Ok, so maybe she was just doing it to get a reaction out of her.

“You never stop, do you?”

Agatha laughs. “Life’s boring otherwise.” She pauses. “Or death is anyway.”

“Are you calling me boring?” Rio shoots back, with a suggestive tilt of her eyebrow.

“Never,” Agatha grins.

Agatha sticks out her foot again but Rio grabs her wrist, and the touch distracts her so much that the person she’d been aiming to trip walks right through her foot.

Agatha can see that Rio is just as confused about how she can touch her, but others can’t.

“I never asked, how did this happen?” Rio asks, keeping hold of her wrist.

It makes Agatha feel uneasy in the best possible way.

“This?”

“How did you become a ghost?” Rio clarifies.

“I don’t know,” Agatha says, because it’s true, she’s not quite sure. “One moment I was...” Agatha trails off when she realises what she was about to say. 

Kissing you.

But even if Agatha doesn’t say it, Rio hears it. Agatha knows she does because Rio glances down at her mouth and Agatha has to swallow down all the feelings it brings up before she continues.

“And the next moment you and Billy were gone, and I was like this.”

The moment feels suddenly charged, Rio still holding her wrist, so Agatha breaks the moment, even if she can’t bring herself to break the contact.

She’s hated her for so long, but she doesn’t hate her anymore. She sees it now, Rio was just doing her job, it wasn’t her choice to take Nicky.

“Maybe I did it just because I know how much you hate ghosts.”

Rio rolls her eyes. “You would become a ghost out of spite.”

“You know me,” Agatha grins. “I love a bit of spite.”

“I have to go, duty calls,” Rio suddenly says, looking as disappointed by the interruption as Agatha feels.

Rio squeezes her wrist and then is gone, Agatha left wondering what’s going on between them.

She fell in love with death a long time ago. She realises now she never fell out of it.

—

Agatha may be a ghost, but that doesn’t mean she has changed that much. Which means she’s very happy to kill the odd witch here and there, just for the power.

And maybe a little bit because she knows a dead body means Rio will show up.

So that’s how Rio finds her, standing over the body of a witch she’s just killed.

“What’s going on?” Rio asks, a smirk on her face.

Agatha shrugs, it’s pretty obvious exactly what she’s done.

It almost feels just like old times.

Except old times didn’t include the ghost of the witch she’s just killed appearing in front of her.

“Oops,” Agatha laughs, taking a step backwards as the ghost turns angrily towards her. “Well, in my defence, you deserved it,” Agatha says, addressing the ghost. That’s not true, but they all know that.

Rio steps between them and Agatha feels that warmth again, that annoying feeling of gratitude as Rio protects her. Not that she needs the protection, but it’s nice all the same.

Rio shoots her a look over her shoulder and Agatha gets the message loud and clear.

Leave. Now.

There’s no heat in the gaze, Rio still just looks amused.

Agatha blows her a kiss, excitement still thrumming through her from the kill (and Rio’s look) before she vanishes.

It really is just like old times.

—

Agatha is surprised when she goes looking for Rio and finds her not far away.

Rio doesn’t startle anymore when Agatha appears, she just shoots her a smile as Agatha takes a seat on the stoop outside her old house in Westview.

“What are you doing here?” Agatha asks, though there’s not a lot of reasons Rio could be here.

“Just thinking.”

Rio’s eyes flash to hers and Agatha sees the unspoken end of the sentence.

“Just thinking about you.”

 It makes Agatha’s chest crack and spill, like it hasn’t in a long time. She’d forgotten what this felt like, to actually feel, and to have someone love her in return.

Agatha reaches out, takes Rio’s hand, threads their fingers together and brings Rio’s hand to rest in her lap.

Rio looks up with such a hopeful look that it reminds Agatha of the way they used to be, the fun they used to have.

“I’ve missed you,” Rio says and Agatha sees it again, how much she hurt Rio, how much damage they’ve both done to each other.

Rio wasn’t lying when she’d called Agatha her scar, because Rio is hers too, a permanent mark that she’d tried to erase with time and hate, but never quite could.

“You can’t kill a ghost, right?” Agatha asks, leaning into Rio, into her space, where she never wants to leave again.

“Not this way,” Rio says, leaning in too and then their lips meet and it’s nothing like last time. 

This kiss is soft at first, Agatha can feel how tentative Rio is, like she’s worried Agatha is going to vanish again.

Even though as a ghost, she’s very good at that, she’s not going to do that again. She doesn’t want to. All she wants is Rio.

So screw tentative, she’s missed this for years, and needs Rio back.

The kiss turns heated, Agatha gripping Rio like she’s the one that might disappear.

“I’ve missed you too, my love,” Agatha mumbles into the kiss, knows what the name words does to Rio. She holds Rio close as she says her next words too. “I’m sorry.”

Rio pulls away, looking amused. “I never thought I’d hear those words coming from you.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

“Can I get used to this?” Rio asks, trailing her hand down Agatha’s side. “You’re not going to vanish on me again?”

Agatha can hear the real fear in her words.

No one thinks Death feels fear, but Agatha knows better.

Agatha rests her forehead against Rio’s, shuts her eyes, and even though she doesn’t have a heart, it feels like she does, like it’s beating just for Rio.

“Never.”

She means it.

[wcnderlnds]

i don't mind | peter maximoff

・❥・ summary: you're hungover and peter tries to take care of you in his own peter way ・❥・word count: 1.1k ・❥・warnings: alochol mentions, painkillers mention, maybe some swearing. ・❥・ authors note: bless my bestie @ldydeath for giving me the idea. she always comin' in clutch to help your girl. first peter fic in a week, i missed writing him (i say this as if its been a thousand years lmao)😭

Parties at the mansion were few and far between but when they did happen they were some of the wildest parties to ever take place. There was always too much alcohol involved causing people to either make the worst decisions. Like the time Scott thought the alcohol suddenly cured him (egged on by a snickering Peter) so he took off his glasses and blew a hole right through the wall into Professor Xavier’s office. Or the time Peter had convinced Kurt that he had a shot with Kitty so he went to try and make a move on her only to end up phasing through her and falling flat on his precious little face. Peter always seemed to be at the centre of everything because - thanks to his mutation - it took a lot for the alcohol to affect him so nine out of ten times he was usually always the most sober in the room. It wasn’t by choice because he definitely would be partaking in drunk shenanigans if he could. Instead, he just encouraged everyone else. That was Peter down to a tee – a bad influence but with his charm and wit he could always get away with it.

Last night’s party had taken its toll on you. That was completely Jean’s fault. She had dared you to do at least eight shots of Fireball in five minutes to catch up. You’d been late to the party due to finishing up one of your assignments for Logan’s class so she had insisted you catch up quickly. So, with the one brain cell you had left, you decided that was a great idea. It, in fact, was not. Once they hit, you were completely smashed, only worsened by the other drinks you kept finding in your hand through the night. To be honest, you weren’t even sure how you made it to your own bed but judging by the silver jacket wrapped around you, you guessed Peter had something to do with it.

Peter was your best friend, your best pal, the only person you would trust with your entire heart. Of course he was the one that had gotten you safely back to your room. Not that the others wouldn’t have but you knew he would have insisted it was him. Due to growing up with his mom and sisters, Peter always made sure the women in his life were taken care of. He would do anything for them and for you. He knew the kind of shitty things women had to deal with especially when it came to alcohol and being around other people so he just had to be the one to make sure you were safe. It always put his mind to rest. Not that his mind was ever really at rest. Trying to figure out what the hell was going on in Peter Maximoff’s brain at any given time was the world’s most unsolvable puzzle. Over the years you’d learn to never question him. It was best to go along with him – only calling him out when he said or did something utterly stupid which could be often.

With a groan, you rolled over, refusing to open your eyes just yet. Your head was already pounding with the massive hangover you were suffering with. The last thing you wanted was to be blinded by light. Instead, you snuggled into Peter’s jacket. His lingering scent making you smile. It was comforting to know that you always had him around to look after you even if he could be a pain in the ass.

“Wakey wakey, sleepyhead,” Peter’s voice rang out as he dashed into the room with a glass of water and painkillers in his hand. He placed them down on your bedside table opting to prod your cheek to try and wake you up. “Come oooooon. You can’t just bury yourself into my jacket like a hamster. I mean, I’m gonna need that back. Kind of my favourite jacket. Honestly, you should feel special that I even left it on your drunk ass. For all I know you could’ve puked all over it but that’s just the risk I take for our friendship, babe.”

“Peter? Shutup,” you sat up, finally opening your eyes to come face to face with your obnoxiously smiling best friend. “You talk too much.”

“Hey, the Prof said that to me this morning, too. Common consensus, huh? You should be used to it by now.” Without a care in the world, he jumped on the bed, stretching his legs out in front of him as he rested his head against the headboard, his hands behind his head. No shocker to anyone that he’d made himself at home without even asking. “Or is that pesky little hangover making you a big ol’ grumpy pants today?”

“I really hate the fact you don’t have to suffer like this.” Throwing the pills into your mouth, you swallowed them down with the water, settling back into bed. In a dramatic show of grumpiness, you threw your arm over your eyes to block any and all light out. “Wish I had the powers of transferring feelings so you could experience this torture.”

Peter laughed. If this was any other day, you’d probably be elated at the sound. You knew it was wrong to have a crush on your best friend but how could you not? With how he took care of you and always seemed so attentive to how you felt, it was hard not to fall in love with the silly speedster. Without even seeing it, you knew he was watching you with that fond, concerned expression on his face. It was confirmed when he gently pulled your arm from your eyes, sliding his hand into yours and lacing your fingers together. It was a simple gesture but it brought a smile to your face.

“Just to clarify, me holding your hand doesn’t, like, mean anything. Not in that way. I mean… unless you want it to. That’s cool. I don’t mind. Just trying to be here for my very hungover friendorino,” Peter rambled, his soft eyes still gazing at you. He really did have the most expressive eyes. It was impressive how he could express a simple emotion by just looking at you. 

Snuggling into him, you brought your joined hands around you so he was holding you instead and laid your head on his chest. If he could get comfy then you could too. “Let’s just lay here for the rest of the day and we can unpack that statement later but… for the record, I don’t mind either.”

taglist (ask to be added or removed!): @ldydeath @jazz-berry @lemoniiiiiii @honeymoon8 @bohnerrific69 @lacucarachapisser @evanpetersbf

[rosenclaws]

Come back (erased part ii) || Logan Howlett x Reader

summary: Logan doesn't remember you but he can sense you. He can tell you were someone important so when the team hatches a plan to find you he's the one leading the charge.

warnings: she/her pronouns, violence, killing, blood, reader gets hit/threatened, mental torture, injuries, logan goes feral, illusions.

wc: 3.5k

link to part 1

a/n: Part two is here!! Finally omfg im sorry this took so long. I hope this is a good part two i had a fun time writing the angst and stuff. It maybe ended a little darker than I meant but oh welll. We love some angst. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy!

The sound of the grandfather clock echoes in Logan's ears. The faint sound of students walking around the halls, playing outside. All drowned out by the clock. The heart necklace sits in his palm, his rough fingers tracing the shape over and over again.

When Logan had gotten back to the mansion he was bombarded with questions. All about a person he had never heard of. He grew angry and confused, wondering who they were talking about. It wasn't until he saw the look on all their faces that he realized something was wrong.

Memory wiped. He was fucking memory wiped again. Charles tried to explain it all but his brain went fuzzy. He tried to restore them but whatever you had done was too powerful. Only faint distant feelings. They tried to jog his memories with pictures but nothing worked. Whoever you were you were, you and him were close.

He's got a look on his face that he doesn't even recognize. One of pure adoration. The stories they tell, it was like hearing stories of someone else. He went through his room. He could smell this faint vanilla scent. The same one from the motel room. It was you. He was with you. But just who are you?

He turns the heart around in his hands. It’s faintly familiar. He closes his eyes and tries to wrack his brain for anything. Just something. There's a gaping hole in his chest, a sense of dread and something lost. A surge of anger takes over him as he shoves the necklace back in his pocket. He feels helpless and confused and he fucking hates it.

They're planning something in Chuck's office and they kicked him out. Why he doesn't know. They're planning a rescue for you and apparently he was the most important person to you so why wouldn't he be in there. Even if he doesn't remember. He should be in there. He stands up and barges through the doors, not caring anymore.

"Tell me what the hell is going on. Now." He stands with his arms crossed, a scowl on his face.

"Logan..." Jean starts but he brushes her off.

"I don't fucking care if I don't remember her just fucking tell me the mission." They team exchange looks and Logan resists the urge to roll his eyes. He's not a child. Whether he remembers you or not you were important to him and to the team. He needs to get you back.

"The mutant group, apparently she knew of them. She used to work with them years ago before any of us knew her." Charles explains and Logan listens. His hands tightening into a fist.

"We believe that she went after them for reasons we do not know. But what we do know is that they're dangerous. More dangerous than what she remembers." He can feel somethings off. The way the team shifts in their seats. The way Ororo won't even look him in the eyes.

"Logan, we think they have her." Scott says slowly.

"So we go find her."

"It's not that simple-"

"No it really fucking is that simple." Logan growls.

"You all talk about her like she's the heart of the fucking mansion so why am I the one who seems to care the most right now! I can't even remember her!" Logan slams his fist hard onto the table it almost breaks.

Why aren't they as worried as he is? Why don't they seem to care? Silence casts over the room but slowly everyone nods, agreeing with him.

"We leave in 15." He says with such severity that no one argues. Logan turns and leaves. Ready to come and find you.

-

The jet engine hum is the only sound inside. Everyone is quiet. Waiting. Normally Logan hates flying but right now he's too focused on getting you back. His eyes are closed as he tries to pull anything from his head. The faint sound of laughter, the feeling of warmth, the smell of vanilla. All of it was right there. Locked behind a door he couldn't get through. He feels someone sit in the seat next to him.

"What." He growls as he turns the necklace in his hand around and around.

"Are you okay?" It's storms voice. He sighs and opens his eyes.

"Just fine." She's quiet for a moment before she decides to talk.

"We're going to find her Logan." She says with a confidence he just doesn't have.

"You and her, I've never seen two people more meant for each other. She made you happy and you made her feel less alone." He wishes he remembered you.

He really does.

He can't think of all the moments he's been told about or the pictures that have been taken. He doesn't know what it was like to love you or to be loved by you anymore. It kills him. If he was happy, if you made him happy, then he's lost it all. Why would you take that away? From him and from you. Why couldn't you trust him with this?

Even though his memories are gone he can feel this sense of worry building in his chest. He needs you to be okay. He needs to protect you. Fuck he doesn't even remember you but that deep primal urge is still there.

"Five minutes out. Everyone brace for landing." Logan tucks the necklace into his suit, keeping it close to his heart as he unsheathes his claws and waits for landing. He will find you. There's no other option for him.

-

Your whole body ached. After leaving Logan you tracked down Mack and his gang but they had the one up on you. New, powerful mutants. They already knew you were coming the second you had the thought. They ambushed you. Attacked you and rendered you useless. They should have just killed you but Mack wanted to keep you. To lure your team out as a trap.

"They aren't coming." You hiss as he stands in front of you. He's crouching down and grinning.

"I don't know sweetheart, my sources tell me there's someone on the team who is quite fond of you." He brushes your cheek and you recoil in disgust.

"Get your fucking hands off me." He chuckles and one of his followers hit you hard in your leg.

"Feisty. Tell me, is that because of Logan? Did he rub off on you?" Your blood runs cold. If they do anything to him.

"Don't touch him." You lunge at Mack but you're restrained. to the ground. Mack presses his foot onto your throat and his smirk turns into something dark.

"You're funny. Tell you what." He puts more pressure on your neck and you start to see dots in your vision.

"When the Wolverine gets here we'll make him watch you die...and then kill him." Mack laughs and another hard blow to your head sends you into darkness.

You can only hope that Logan stays far, far away from this.

-

He can hear them. Fucking idiots not even trying to hide. They're bragging, laughing. Well they won’t be laughing for long. Logan’s claws gleam under the moonlight as he stalks like an animal.

The plan was to create a diversion while a rescue team goes in to get you. He wasn’t exactly know for his subtlety but no one wanted to argue him being the one to find you. It was a one man rescue team.

The sky rumbles and a loud explosion from far away leads the mutant group away. Logan springs into action. He takes out the few bodyguards around camp with ease.

He finds you alone and unguarded. A sense of relief washing over him as he bends down and scoops you up in his arms. Though he can’t shake the feeling that something’s wrong. That this was too easy.

“Logan?” Your voice is quiet, broken.

“Hey, we’re gonna get you out of here.��� He gently holds you as he looks for a way out.

“No.” You say. Your voice stronger than before. Confusion washes over him as you push him away. The injuries on your body seemed to disappear as the world fades around him.

“You think I want you to save me? I ran away from you Logan. Couldn’t you get the fucking hint?” Your words spit like venom. You were not the person he thought you were.

“It was all a lie, a cover.” His claws come out, teeth baring as his anger grows. But then he catches a whiff of someone unfamiliar. He hears the faint calling of his name.

“Yeah?” He walks closer to you. A taunting look on your face. Without warning he swings his claws right next to your face.

“Tell him that it will take more than a weak illusion to fool me.” Logan whispers in your ear.

Slowly the world he thought was reality melts away. Your tied up, held by force by one of Mack’s followers. Had he given in and swung at you he would have killed you. That must have been their plan. He looks to the side to see a body with three claw marks on the ground.

“Well, you’re smarter than I thought. Well done Wolvie.” He hears a slow clap behind him.

”Fuck off bub,” Logan growls as he holds up his claws. Ready to pounce. He hears the rustling around him. He’s not alone, they’re hiding, waiting.

“It’s a shame really, we would have gotten along great.” Mack smirks as Logan grows angrier.

“Fat fucking chance.” Logan lunges at Mack but he’s tackled to the ground. Held down by some sort of force he can’t fight.

“You may be physically strong but let’s see how you do when someone fucks with your mind. Just like she did.” Logan struggles baring his teeth as he tries to fight out of whatever hold they have him under.

“Stop!” You cry out. Your voice is strained and tears are falling down your cheeks.

“Mack please, just leave him alone.” You fight out of the grip on you with all your strength. Falling to the ground roughly. Your hands are still tied behind your back as you struggle to get up.

“Please don’t hurt him.” Your desperate.

Mack stands up crouches over you. He grabs your face roughly, digging his nails into your face tightly. Logan growls when he sees you wince in pain.

“Aww so cute.” He taunts and throws you to the ground.

“The question is which one of you has the biggest hero complex hm? You left us because you thought we were wrong, evil. You wanted to play hero.”

“What we did was wrong Mack. We hurt innocent people for our own good.” Logan stares at you and you can’t find it in yourself to look him in the eyes.

You can’t bare to see that look of nothing. He doesn’t know who you are and its your fault. But this is for the best. You can get him out of here and he can walk away from you without the pain.

You feel a sharp pain as Mack slaps you hard. “We were surviving!” He yells.

“Why should we care about the world when they don’t care about us!” He takes out a pocket knife and you tense up.

“Get the fuck away from her.” Logan roars and Mack just grins.

With a snap of his fingers one of the other mutants starts to crush Logan. It was a subtle pressure at first but he could feel the discomfort. They were sinking him into the ground. They were going to bury him alive. You can see a flash of panic. He hates that suffocating feeling. So reminiscent of his nightmares.

“Mack please, we were family once.” You beg as you watch Logan struggle. You can’t let them do this to him.

“Stop please!” Mack grabs your face and makes you watch.

“We were but you picked a new family. Now you can watch him suffocate.” Your eyes meet with Logan’s and you start to cry. He’s afraid. Its your fault. This is all your fault.

“I’ll stay! I’ll stay and help you again just let him go!” You cry out. The weight is lifted off Logan and he scrambles to breathe.

“I promise. I won’t fight and I won’t run. Just please, leave him alone.” Mack thinks for a moment, its a tempting offer. Your powers are strong and he was never able to find anyone quite like you.

“No! Logan shouts, he can’t let you do this. Not for him.

“You got yourself a deal. But if you ever try anything. We’ll hunt him down and kill him. Then the rest of your little family.” Your eyes flash with fear and you nod.

Logan’s heart twists as he sees the broken look on your face. You’re condemning yourself to a torturous life for him. When you look at him he feels a horrible feeling. He longs for you. Your eyes are full of a love he’s missing from his life. You love him and he can’t even remember what it was like. Did you calm his nightmares? Keep his deepest secrets? Did you know all his faults and choose to love him anyways? He needs to know. They pick him up and force him onto his knees.

"Tell your team to stay away." Mack wraps his hand around your neck, his knife pressing against your skin, taunting Logan.

"Logan...I love you and I'm sorry." Your voice is raspy as you choke out the words. He needs to know. You smile painfully as Logan just looks at you.

"Go on, run away Wolvie." Mack snarls.

Even in pain your eyes are full of love just looking at him. He was your everything. You love him so much you're willing to sacrifice yourself, your happiness, all of it for him. How? This kind of love...he's never felt this before. He may not remember it all with you but fuck he wants to know what its like. He wants to learn what it was like to be loved by you. He can't let you go. Not when his future happiness is in your hands. The rage builds. He will not leave you. Doesn't matter how much blood will be shed tonight. He will save you.

With a loud roar Logan unsheathes his claws and with all his willpower throws off the weighted feeling. He's like an animal, snarling and growling as he drives his claws into your captors. There's no mercy in the way he takes each and everyone of them out. They try to stop him but when they realize their efforts are futile they start to run.

"Where do you think you're going?" His voice is cold, void of any emotion as he digs his claws deep into someone chest. Mack's confidence fades as he watches Logan's rampage. He grabs you and tries to run. Dragging you along the forest floor.

"Logan!" You shout and he instantly turns around.

On all fours he uses his claws to launch himself towards you. Chasing Mack down like prey. It's really a pity how fast he catches him. At another time he would have enjoyed playing with him, toying with his fear. All the pain he's caused, not just your pain but the innocent people he's ruined. He deserves to pay.

"Not so tough now huh?" Logan stabs him right through the heart.

When he's sure he's dead he stands up, blood soaking his claws. His head turns to you and you freeze. You know he won't hurt you but apart of you worries this is a trick. Another one of Mack's illusions just to fuck with you. Logan gently bends down and cuts you free.

"He's gone sweetheart." Tears start to fall down your cheeks as he scoops you up in his arms.

"I'm sorry I'm so sorry." You babble over and over as Logan holds you tight. You fit just like a puzzle piece into his arms. This feels right. This feels like home. The sound of footsteps sets him on edge but he calms down when he sees the familiar faces of his team.

"Where the hell were you guys?"

-

No one dared bother Logan. They let him take you back to the jet. He held you the whole time. Even when you fell asleep from utter exhaustion he kept you close. He was with you every step of the way. Bringing you to the lab, watching as they run tests and stick needles into your arm. On your recovery bed with the ugly white lights he sat until you woke up. Sometimes you stirred, whining and you sounded afraid.

He wonders what fucked up things Mack made you see. The bruises and scars on your body told only half the story. With each fearful sound he wishes he would have taken longer to kill that bastard. But he's gone now and you seem to calm down when he's with you. Sensing him through your sleep.

The necklace sits in his hand. After he got back he had to make sure it was still with him. It was bloodied now, and had some wear and tear from the past. So he busied himself fixing it up, cleaning it until it shined like new. He doesn't know when or why he bought it for you but clearly it was special. The two stones meant something. He knew they did.

When you finally came to he jumped into action. Calling hank to come check on you while he slipped away to get you water. There was a big fuss, people scolding you for leaving and crying from happiness that you were back. Apologizes poured out of your mouth as you faced your family. Logan hung back and watched you be embraced, be loved. Your powers seemed to settle after this. The fear of touching other people was gone as you hugged people without a second thought. He waited and waited until it was just the two of you.

"Hey there," You can barely look at him as he sits in the plastic chair next to your bed.

"Logan I..." You can't get the words out. How do you even begin to apologize.

You bury your face in your hands but Logan isn't having it. He had a lot of questions but they could wait. He takes your hands away from your face, cupping your chin to make you look at him. Your heart breaks a little when you look into those eyes. He still doesn't know you. Of course, his memories are still gone.

"Why did you come? You don't remember me." You ask him. He risked his life for you, he killed for you. The Logan you knew at the start wouldn't have done that for you. Maybe with the team but to risk all of it alone. Why?

"I don't have to remember you to see you were important to me sweetheart, though I would really like those memories back." Of course.

You never took them from him. If anything you locked them away. You couldn't bring yourself to truly erase yourself from his mind. With a gentle touch you release his memories like a tidal wave. They pour into his brain, flooding his senses as memory after memory flash into his mind. Ending with your final moments together in that motel room.

Your first kiss, you told him you loved him. You took that from him. He should be angry with you. You stole his memories just like they did before but when he opens his eyes there's no anger.

Only love.

He smashes his lips onto yours. Capturing you into a heated kiss. This is what he dreamed of. Getting to touch you like this, to show his love. He's rough with his motions. He should be gentler but he can't help himself. Years of desperation building up into this. He can finally hold you, finally claim you as his.

"Logan I'm so sorry." You cry. He shushes you with another kiss.

He doesn't care about that right now. You were afraid and though he wishes you came to him he's just glad to have you back. You scared the fuck out of him.

"I love you too sweetheart, you didn't give me the chance to say it but fuck I love you." You claw at his shirt to get him closer.

You need him to be as close as he can. He ignores the wires and climbs into the bed with you. Situating himself so that you're as close as you can get. Legs intertwined with each other. He takes the necklace and places it around your neck. Clasping it and smiling as it rests above your heart.

"I'll always fight for us sweetheart. I'll fight for you." Even if he doesn't remember you he knew deep down that there was something there. That you were important to him. No one could take that away from him.

You curl into his arms, finally feeling at peace for the first time. Not worried about your powers or about your past. You felt protected and loved. Logan lulls you back to rest promising to keep watch. He knows that what you suffered won't go away easily but he'll be there every step of the way.

Nothing will take you from him again. Not ever. He'll make sure of that.

[lovegalor333]

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊✧˚ · .

my bad (paige x reader)

summary: paige accidentally hits you with a basketball and she feels bad so tries to make it up to you.

content warnings: none!

requested by: anon 💗

It was a warm summers evening in Storrs and there was nothing you and your roommate enjoyed more than ending your day with frozen yogurt.

You had walked to the dessert shop on campus, excited for your sweet treats but there was an unusually long line for this time off the evening. There was a group of girls outside of the shop and as you got closer, you recognised them as the womens basketball team.

There was six of them and all of their faces were familiar. Paige Bueckers, Azzi Fudd, Ice Brady, KK Arnold and two freshmen that, admittedly you didn’t know the names of. They had a ball in tow that they were bouncing and throwing to one another and every now and then, the ball would be dropped and it would roll away and one of them would scramble after it. You giggle as you watch the scene unfold, KK shoving herself into Paige, playfully trying steal the ball from her.

The team was somewhat famous on and off campus. They were the most successful womens basketball program in the nation with the longest winning streaks in college basketball, period. And more recently, the current team had shot to fame on social media and you could see why. Tall, muscular, athletic. The appeal was obvious.

You had been to a few games over your years at UConn and often saw the girls around campus and they seemed nice enough so you had no problem with how boisterous they were being while you waited in line.

“Be honest. Smash or pass?” Your Khloe asks you, catching your gaze focused on the athletes.

“Which one?” You ask back.

“I don’t know, any…the blondie?” She says pointing to Paige and you slap her hand down not wanting them to see her point.

“I don’t know.” You say but you do know and your roommate does too.

“Yes you do. That’s your type all over.” She teases and she’s right. That was your type. Tall, blonde, light eyes, athletic, there was no denying Paige Bueckers was your type.

“Whatever.”

“So…smash or pass?”

“Smash.” You say and your roommate grins but before can even roll your eyes in response, you literally get smashed, right in the face.

You’re thrown off balance and stumble back at the impact before you steady yourself.

“Paige!”

Your eyes are screwed shut as a sharp, stinging sensation spreads over your left cheek, that hurt like a bitch.

“Oh my God! My bad ma, I’m so sorry.” You feel two hands land on your shoulders and when you open your eyes, it takes a second for your vision to clear. When it does, you’re met with Paige, inches away from you, hands on your shoulders, a sorry look on her face.

“Does it hurt?” She asks, bringing her hand up to your face to angle it so she can get a better look at her handy work. Your cheek felt like it was on fire, it was definitely red as hell right now.

Your head spun and you wasn’t sure whether it was because of the unexpected impact or because of the beautiful, blue eyed girl with her hand on your face.

“A little.” You squeak out.

“I am so sorry, I feel so bad. You should ice it. I should get you ice. Where can I get ice? Someone get some ice!” Paige rambles out and you laugh at her frenzied words.

“It’s OK. I’ll survive.” You reassure her and she seems to calm down.

“Your frozen yogurt is on me.” She tell you and you shake your head, “You don’t have to do that.”

“I do. I just threw a ball in your face.” She chuckles, finally dropping her hands from your face and shoulder.

“Well, when you put it like that...” You respond, rubbing your cheek in hopes to defuse the pain.

The line moved quick and soon, Paige and her friends were at the counter making their orders and you were up next. Paige insisted on standing beside you until you had ordered, even when her friends went to sit at a table, just so she could keep her promise and pay for you.

“Could we also get a bag of ice for the pretty lady?” Paige interjects after you give your order, “I accidentally smacked her face with my ball.” She over explains and once again brings her hands up to turn your face to the server so he can see the mark, “Look.” She says but the guy behind the counter looks like he couldn’t care less. “I don’t need ice, it’s fine.” You insist and he gets on, adding your chosen toppings to your frozen yogurt.

You’re thankful for your red cheek because the way Paiges slender, slightly calloused fingers held your face so gently and the use of the pet name pretty lady made you blush, hard. You had been single for longer than you’d like to admit so at this point you were touch starved and Paige was feeding you.

She had already started eating her frozen yogurt and as you glanced up at her to thank her for paying, you notice a blob of it on her cheek.

“Um-you- you kinda have…” You point at her face, “some yogurt right here.”

You hate to admit it but you’re mesmerised by the way she flicks out her tongue and wiggles it, trying to swipe the yogurt away.

“It’s still there.” You inform her and she dips her head down, more to your level, “Do you mind?”

Does this girl seriously want me to wipe her face? You thought to yourself.

“Come on, I don’t bite.” She chuckles so you take your finger and wipe the yogurt away, “There.” You say, her face now clean and her next movement makes you raise your brows, taken aback. Her mouth is open, tongue poking out ever so slightly, she wants to lick the yogurt off your finger.

“Seriously?” You ask shocked at her brazen attitude, “You don’t know where my fingers have been.”

“I can only dream.” She smirks and takes it upon herself to guide your finger to her mouth, licking it clean.

“You’re so nasty.” You playfully shove her shoulder.

“A nasty girl who pays for your yogurt.” She says taking your order from the server and handing it to you.

“For real, thank you.” You smile genuinely.

“For real, I’m sorry.” She replies and you tell her it’s fine before turning to leave the store, Khloe waiting for you by the door.

“You’re not sitting in?” Paige asks making you turn around to face her again.

“No, we have…a spot.” You say, referring to yours and Khloes favourite place to eat on campus.

“Ohh, a spot?”

“Mhm.” You nod, taking a spoon full of frozen yogurt into your mouth.

“Where is this spot?”

“I’m gatekeeping.” You tease and Paige pouts exaggeratedly, “Maybe I’ll show you one time.” You offer not actually knowing why you said that and you immediately cringe.

But Paige agrees, “Deal.” She says, holding out her hand for you shake and you do. For someone you only really met a few minutes ago, her hands have been on you quite a bit.

You begin walking to Khloe and by the grin on her face, you know what the topic of conversation will be this evening.

“Wait, how can I reach you?” Paige calls after you, “If it’s meant to be, it will be.” You call back, turning your head to look at the girl one last time.

“I don’t even know your name!”

You shout out your first and last name as you walk out of the shop.

“Did blondie just suck your finger?!” Khloe whisper screams once the door closes behind you.

You laugh, “It was more of a lick.” You say matter of factly.

“But her finger was in your mouth?”

“Yes.”

“Wow…slutting it up in the Fro-Yo shop. That’s the most action you’ve got all semester.” Khloe jokes.

“Alrighttt, not to much on me and my sex life. I’m going through a drought.” You defend yourself.

“Well, from where I was standing, it’s due to get pretty wet.”

“Shut up!”

You and Khloe head to your favourite spot and eat your frozen yogurt like you did most nights. Side by side on the grass, watching the sunset.

Your phone pings from in your pocket and you pull it out seeing a notification from Instagram.

paigebueckers started following you.

Another notification came through almost instantly.

paigebueckers: its meant to be

“Damn, she’s quick.”

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊✧˚ · .

a/n: please let me know if you have any requests, id be happy to do them! 💋

[feroluce]

HOW DID RAPPA AND BOOTHILL END UP BEING SO SWEET???

Before 2.6 even dropped, they were being cute! In Rappa's Keeping Up With Star Rail, Boothill describes Rappa's creations as "high-tech ninjutsu" rather than equipment, or machines, or anything else that someone would have normally defaulted to. This is something Rappa is very proud of and insistent about in her work, and he respects that!

Even with those party join lines, he refers to her not as a Galaxy Ranger, but by her chosen title!

Rappa seems to get a lot of shit for how she talks, too, with people throughout the patch accusing her of playing around or not taking anything seriously. Boothill though is swift to correct that, that even if it sounds like nonsense, Rappa is someone to be respected and a force to be reckoned with. He seems to really admire her resolve, and especially her intellect! He has nothing but praise for her, it's so so sweet.

And the way she talks about him, too! Like there are. A lot of things you can say about a man like Boothill fjkdlsajk but she always speaks so admirably of him?

There's also the difference in nicknames- Rappa refers to every other person as "Ninja." And most of them are descriptions that you can pick up at a glance, or without knowing a person too deeply. Singer for Robin is obvious, everyone knows who she is. Gama for Reca means "toad," which is a reference to the assistant director he always has with him. Baseball Bat for the trailblazer is also obvious. Ruri for March 7th means "lapis lazuli" which is probably a reference to her Six Phase Ice, or even her appearance since she looks like if a Stellar Jade became human. Hiryu for Dan Heng is actually "flying dragon" but it's also a famous video game reference so I'm only willing to put so much stock into that one fjkdsjakd and besides, she could have easily heard about March 7th and Dan Heng from Boothill, since he talks about the dango trio to Rappa, too.

But Boothill! Rappa refers to Boothill as "Silvergun Shura," with Shura being a reference to Asura, a demigod of war. It's a name used to describe someone fighting a relentless, inhumane war and desperately seeking victory. It also refers to a level of hell, governed by anger and pain. Both interpretations suit him strongly. It's not really a title you could give just looking at someone. It's something you'd have to know them at least a little more deeply for.

Boothill also very distinctly lacks the common ninja title- instead, in the EN translation, Rappa calls him Lord. It's a highly respectable title even in the original Chinese, apparently akin to addressing reigning royalty.

She just. Seems to respect and admire him so much? It's so so sweet?

And despite how often it's stated that Galaxy Rangers tend to work and travel alone, it seems these two are at least fairly familiar with each other, which makes me really happy! In an instance of beautiful timing, just today Hoyo released a new text convo, and! When she wants someone to hang out with, Boothill was one of the first people Rappa thought of!

Rappa knew Dan Heng because Boothill talked about him. She knew about Clockwork. Boothill has spoken with her often enough and long enough to know how deeply her hatred ran, and to be upset for her when Primon got away.

They both speak so positively of each other, even when one is out of of earshot. They openly show a ton of respect and admiration for one another, and the way they talk about each other is more than just two people who happen to be part of the same faction. They know each other more closely than that. Boothill is only in Penacony at all because of Rappa, and Rappa trusted Boothill enough to seek him out for this.

My favorite, though? The part I considered the cutest?

Rappa literally went all the way to the Luofu just to watch Boothill fight in the Luminary Wardance.

[darthfrodophantom]

Death Is My Gift

Summary: When Danny becomes the personification of Death, his new powers are the least of his problems. Summoned as the fourth horseman of the apocalypse, Danny tries to sabotage it from the inside while also contending with the other three horsemen, the one who summoned him, and the knowledge that if he fails, he may have to help bring about the end of the world.

AO3: Link

Chapter 1: Still Dead - Thanks for Checking

“What the hell is that on your phone?” Sam asked, her tone dripping with derision. 

Danny looked up from his screen and cocked his eyebrow. “What?” How could she see what was on his screen when she was on the other side of the table? Not that he had anything embarrassing on there, but look it wasn’t his fault that he messed up his Insta algorithm because he watched one video about large superheated copper balls melting through a telescope lens and now he couldn’t stop watching more of them. But still, how could she see it?

She gestured toward the back of his phone. “That sticker - what the hell is it?”

Understanding dawned on the usually clueless boy and his face brightened. “Oh, it’s my new sticker! Isn’t it great?” he preened as he moved his hand to the side so they could see the sticker in its full glory. He had been waiting for them to notice it, and somehow it took all the way until lunch for them to comment on it. 

Tucker craned his neck around to see the purple coffin-shaped sticker plastered onto the back of Danny’s phone case. In white letters it read: “Still Dead. Thanks for checking.” Tucker snorted before he devolved into cackles. “Dude, that’s great!”

Danny grinned even wider. “Right? I thought it was too funny.”

“No, it’s stupid,” Sam argued, and her harsh attitude completely ruined the mood. “Danny, the less people associate you with death, the better.”

“Oh come on Sam, if they haven’t figured out that Danny Phantom and Danny Fenton are the same person by now when they have the exact same hairstyle, then a sticker is not going to phase anyone,” Tucker argued, ever in defense of his friend.

“Exactly!” Danny seconded.

“Or it’s exactly the last piece that helps people make that connection because there’s already so little separating you!” Sam exclaimed, though she did try to keep her voice down so no one else would overhear.

“Or maybe they’ll just think I’m a moody Gen Z kid that says this kind of dramatic stuff all the time. Which is why you should have let me keep that shirt.” He still thought that “Dead Inside” shirt was ironic and iconic, but Sam conveniently spilled black ink from her fancy new quill set  on it and refused to give it back for this very same reason.

“Yeah, he could just make it his brand,” Tucker agreed. The two of them always seemed to be on the same page.

Sam reached out like she was about to rip the sticker off his phone, but decided against it and shook her head. “Fine. You want to keep the sticker on your phone? Fine, but don’t cry to me when people start putting the pieces together,” she huffed.

“Well since that’s not gonna happen, you’re gonna be waiting a long time,” Danny grinned. He struck an overly exaggerated victory pose with his neck cocked slightly to the side while he tilted his chin up to the sky. 

Sam jerked back as the color drained from her face. “Danny what the—“ she cried out, so loudly and so suddenly that it caught the attention of other people in the lunchroom. 

Danny immediately looked behind him, assuming that whatever caused Sam’s sudden reaction had to be behind him. His need to protect his friends from whatever threat caused such a startled response rose up and hammered in his throat as his mind spun with the possible horrors he would see behind him. 

But he saw…nothing. Well, not nothing. He saw other students eating their lunches at other tables throughout the room. Students drifted in and out of the cafeteria as they finished their lunches. No ghost. No threat. Nothing that should cause Sam to turn as white as she did.

He turned back to face Sam, concern etched deep into his brow as he studied her face. “Sam? What’s wrong?” he asked in quiet urgency. If she truly saw some danger that he couldn’t, then he needed to know.

Sam studied Danny for a long moment, far too long for Danny’s liking. She wasn’t looking past him, she was looking at…him. “...Nothing. Nothing. It’s nothing. I think I’m just seeing things. I thought I saw…nevermind. It’s nothing,” she assured them. 

Danny raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure? Because something freaked you out.”

She shook her head and plastered a forced smile on her face. “Yeah, I’m sure. Too little sleep and too much caffeine has just got me jumpy. I’m fine, really. Besides, we need to act like we’re having a normal conversation: too many people are watching.”

“Well yeah, you practically jumped out of your seat,” Danny pointed out. 

She narrowed her eyes and gave him a half smile before she reached across the table and grabbed his abandoned phone. “It did let me get your phone though.”

“Wait hey!” Danny protested as he reached across the table to recover his phone from her clutches, but she deftly moved around his grasping hands. 

“Now let’s see about that sticker,” she teased. Danny immediately doubled his efforts to retrieve his phone. Not being able to rely on ghost powers made it a little more difficult than it should have been to win it back (was he maybe relying on those too much? That felt like too much of a Jazz question for him to think about it too long), but he did save the phone and his ironic sticker. He was so preoccupied saving his sticker that he didn’t notice that Tucker had gone quiet and regarded Sam with a very significant and curious stare.

Lunch wrapped up shortly after the scuffle over the phone, and the three of them rushed off to their lockers and then off to class. Just outside the door to the classroom, Tucker held a hand out to stop Sam and waited for Danny to get a few feet inside before he spoke up in a whisper.

“Did you see the skull?”

Sam blinked and her face grew pale again, just like it had in the lunchroom. “The what?” she asked with a slightly shaky voice.

“The skull? Over Danny’s face?”

“What? Yes! Yes I thought I was going insane!” she exclaimed, though still in a whisper to not catch any more attention. The briefest moment of relief washed over her, but it immediately washed away into even more worry.

“No, I saw it this morning,” Tucker admitted. “Thought it was just some trick of the light or something. It was there one moment and then–”

“--Gone the next,” Sam finished. “And when I saw it I just felt…off. Like this moment of dread. Like I was–”

“--Looking at something I shouldn’t have seen,” Tucker validated as he nodded his head. “Yeah, same here. It was a weird feeling to have looking at my best friend.”

“What does it mean?”

“No idea,” Tucker sighed as he looked towards Danny pouring over his textbook in the hope that he’d be able to at least pretend that he did the reading before class. “But knowing Danny, it’s probably nothing good.”

Danny noticed odd glances from his friends a few more times that day. He worried maybe he had something on his face, but then again Sam would have said something. Tucker would have stayed quiet to have a good laugh about it later, but he’d have clued him into the joke by now. Maybe he was doing something ghostly without knowing it? But if that was the case they would have definitely let him know. In the end, he chalked it up to his friends being weird and went about his strangely quiet day.

There weren’t any ghost attacks. He couldn’t remember the last time he went through a school day without being interrupted by ghosts. It felt…nice, but unnerving at the same time, like he missed something. Like he was supposed to clue into something happening in the Ghost Zone. But in the end he decided not to worry about that either, especially once school ended and he could just hang out with his best friends ghost free.

By the time they hit up the game store (Tucker was still trying to get them into tabletop games) and the record store (Sam wanted to browse the LPs), Danny had forgotten all about his previous warnings…until he hit the Boba shop. Second up to bat, he placed his order with the barista, a smiling young woman who wore fun earrings that looked like watermelon slices. He paid for his drink and left a decent tip, but when he looked back up from the pin pad, her haunted expression caught him by surprise.

No longer kind and smiling, her unfocused gaze stared beyond him with eyes opened so wide her eyelids disappeared. Her pale, gaunt face looked hollow and lifeless. Her mouth fell open unnaturally.

“Fifty-seven years, one hundred and thirteen days, seven hours.”

Her flat, emotionless voice echoed within the sudden silence of the rest of the room. Chills shot along his body as the hair on his arms stood on end. His gut twisted uncomfortably as the presence of something…wrong and haunting fell over him. The silence of the world pressed in around him and left him only with that eerie voice thrumming though the void.

“What?” he finally stammered out.

“Do you want a receipt?” she repeated in her normal voice. Suddenly the whole world came back around him. The noise and the commotion of the busy Boba shop almost felt overwhelming after the sheer absolute silence.

“Oh uh…no,” he answered lamely.

“He’s good,” Sam spoke up quickly from behind. She pushed him to the side and took over the situation, but concern etched deep lines into her forehead. “But I’ll have a…”

What Sam ordered was lost on him as Tucker pulled him over to the drink pick-up counter. “Dude, what happened?” he asked in an urgent whisper. “You just froze.”

“I don’t…I don’t know. I heard something totally different…” The eerie tone of her voice, the chill that shot like livewire up his spine (like the accident, but he really didn’t want to think about that), it all stuck with him and wouldn’t leave him. His memory was absolute trash at the best of times, but he could still remember every number she quoted to him like it had been etched into his very core.

“What did you hear?” Tucker asked as Sam joined them. Those concerned lines across her brow still made him feel like something more was going on here, because Sam usually only worried when there was actually something to worry about.

“Just…some numbers, like years and months,” he shrugged, trying to pass it off as normal, even if it couldn’t be further from the truth.

“Like a countdown?” Sam pressed.

Danny’s eyes grew wide. Exactly like a countdown. Down to the hour.

He didn’t need to say anything for Sam to know she was on to something. “So what was she counting down to?”

“You think I know?” Danny rebuffed as he pointed at himself. “But you guys heard it right? How…creepy she sounded? How hollow?”

“No, we didn’t man,” Tucker responded, strangely serious. “We heard her ask if you wanted a receipt and then you just froze.”

He looked between both of his friends, hoping for some kind of alternate answer or for someone to say they were pulling his leg, but they weren’t. “So you…you didn’t hear it?” he implored, desperate for someone to agree with him.

“No Danny, we didn’t,” Sam confirmed. “But Danny, we need to–”

“Pomegranate boba,” another barista announced. Danny automatically turned towards her, only to see the same lifeless stare directed his way.

“Twenty years, two hundred and twelve days, two hours.”

He shook his head and closed his eyes as the pressure of the void threatened to swallow him again, but then like before, everything opened up and the noise of the world rushed back to him.

“Danny?” Sam fretted as she stepped closer to him. 

He opened his eyes and looked out on the brightly lit boba shop. “Sorry I…it happened again,” he admitted.

Tucker and Sam exchanged significant glances behind Danny’s back before making an executive decision. Tucker grabbed their drink orders while Sam gently placed a hand on Danny’s back. “I think we should get out of here,” Sam suggested.

Danny could see the sense in that. The last thing they needed was to make a scene, and he could feel the eyes of both the people behind the counter and the ones standing in line. Best to beat a hasty retreat and figure this out somewhere a little quieter.

He scooted around the line of customers, hoping he could make a quiet exit. He caught the gaze of a young boy in line, but he only saw the vacant stare on his young face.

“Eighty three years, three hundred and two days, eleven hours.”

Danny spun quickly away from the boy and placed his hands over his ears, but it didn’t help as he locked eyes with a college student at a table who happened to look up from her laptop.

“Three years, thirty days, seven hours.”

And then the gaze of a well-dressed woman striding through the door.

“Forty years, eighty-eight days, nineteen hours.”

And the older man sitting with his grandchildren at a table.

“Ten years, one hundred and fifty days, three hours.”

Macabre countdowns from various shop patrons echoed around him. Anyone who met his gaze morphed their faces into the gaunt masks and intoned their countdown in that same hollow voice.

“Stop! Stop!” Danny cried as he curled in on himself. Tucker and Sam immediately pushed him through the doors and outside of the shop full of curious onlookers, but if they thought ushering him outside of the shop would be better, they were terribly wrong as Danny confronted more people on the street. The constant chorus of lifeless laments descended upon him in a deafening whirlwind.

“Ninety-eight days, twenty hours.”

“Sixty-eight years, two days, one hour.”

“Seventeen years, two hundred and ninety days, eight hours.”

Until they finally culminated in a chilling “Thirteen seconds.”

A morbid curiosity came over him as his gaze lingered on the older man who intoned the foreboding knell, just before the man clutched at his chest and dropped to the ground. Everyone around him rushed to his side and barked out orders to call an ambulance, but Danny knew deep, deep down in his core that it wouldn’t do any good. 

The man was dead. 

Dead, exactly thirteen seconds later.

Realizing this area was about to get a lot more attention, Tucker and Sam pushed Danny into a nearby alley and shrouded him from view. “Danny what the hell is happening?” Sam practically yelled.

Danny dropped to the ground as he clutched at his core that ached with the pain of what he just witnessed, and the horror of what he’d come to realize. He didn’t want to admit it to himself or to the world as a whole, but he had a horrifying feeling he knew what the times meant.

They were a countdown to death.

“I don’t…I don’t know why, but people keep telling me how long…how long they have…left,” Danny squeaked out between shallow breaths. The world swam around him and he clenched his jaw to try not to be sick.

“Left to what?” Tucker asked.

“To live you idiot!” Sam chastised. “Danny, are you sure?”

“What else could it be?” he exclaimed as he gripped at the hair on the sides of his head. “Someone said thirteen seconds, and then thirteen seconds later he…he…” His breath quickened in his chest. His heart thrummed too fast against his ribs. Sweat beaded on his brow as he shivered. This…this was a panic attack. Oh god, he was having a panic attack. But could anyone really blame him? He heard a man was going to die and just…just…watched it happen and couldn’t do anything. He couldn’t do anything!

“Danny…Danny just look at me,” Sam pressed delicately as she knelt next to him and placed a gentle hand on his arm.

His eyes reached her chin before he remembered - as soon as he met someone’s gaze, even from afar, they told him how long they had. He couldn’t know that about his best friend. He couldn’t. What if it was a small number? What would he even consider to be a small number? Would any number ever be large enough?

He slapped her away in a panic and retreated into himself as he buried his head into his arms. “No!” he screamed. “No, any time I look at someone they tell me how much time they have left and I can’t…I don’t want to know that. I can’t know that!” he practically screeched.

Sam and Tucker exchanged worried but uncertain looks. They’d dealt with a lot since the accident, but this was certainly a new complication where their very presence seemed to add more stress. 

“Okay Danny, okay. We don’t know if that’s what’s happening.” She paused as she felt him tense beside her. “But if you think that’s what’s happening, then we won’t look at you.”

Danny grabbed his hair tight in his hands as he shook in a huddle on the floor. How was he going to do this? Never look at anyone he ever cared about again? Make sure they never looked at him? What kind of life would that be? He couldn’t live like that, with that paranoia that some day one of them would mess up and they’d meet his gaze and then he would know how much longer he had left to spend with them. His breathing quickened again as he found himself spiraling further down into his panic, down into a depth of foreboding terror that he didn’t know if he could climb out of again.

“Okay but Danny, even if you aren’t looking at anyone, I need you to breathe okay?” Sam pleaded. “Just breathe with me. In and out slowly. In and out.”

He did as he was told because he didn’t really have it in him to argue. In and out, in and out. He took deep breaths in through his nose and out through his mouth like Jazz taught him. It probably didn’t help that he was still curled up in a ball and didn’t have great air circulation, but he didn’t dare uncurl.

“Okay, good,” Sam praised as she finished sending an urgent text. “Now let’s figure out what’s going on, because we will figure it out.”

“You mean figure out why I can tell when people are going to die?” Danny snapped.

“Yes,” Sam replied, voice calm despite Danny’s barbed tone. 

“...I don’t know if this is the right time, but there probably isn’t a right time so I’m just gonna say it,” Tucker sighed. “Danny, we noticed something weird earlier. It would only happen for a second, but it was like your face was covered by…like a translucent skull.”

Danny looked up but immediately thought better of it and ducked his head back down again. “A what?!”

“A skull. We didn’t know what it meant at the time–”

“We still don’t know what it means,” Sam added.

“--but it has to be related,” Tucker finished.

“This has to be more than a new ghost power,” Sam brainstormed. “This feels like something more significant.”

“More significant? What the hell does that mean?” Danny rebuked. He knew they were just trying to help, but honestly without an answer it was just making him feel more anxious and overwhelmed. He didn’t know if he could handle something more significant than being a half-dead, ghost-fighting freak.

“We don’t know,” Sam said, controlled and patient. “But we’ll figure this out Danny, we promise, just like we’ve figured out everything else.”

Everything else. Because there was always something. There was always some other side effect of the accident that all of them had to keep dealing with. Ghost powers, ghost fighting, his parents, new powers, a secret identity, ice powers, and now this. When was he done? When would he finally stop having more and more piled on top of his already overflowing mind? How much was a teenager expected to shoulder before he finally just buckled under the crushing weight of it all?

Apparently it would be one more thing.

He gasped as the cold breath escaped from his throat. He deflated a bit into his self hug. He knew the quiet afternoon was too good to be true. He knew it.

“Danny, you don’t have to go,” Sam mentioned, almost pleading.

“You know I have to,” he sighed with hollow defeat.

“No, you don’t. Let your parents get it, or Valerie. It doesn’t have to be you right now,” she begged.

“They never handle it well,” Danny argued as he stood but kept his gaze on the floor.

Sam shook her head, prepared to put her foot down. “But Danny, you literally just stopped having a panic attack, do you think now is the right time to do this? Maybe you just need to think about yourself for a bit!”

“When do I ever get to think about myself?” he barbed as he transformed. “Besides, a ghost can’t tell me how long they have to live, right? Sounds like I’m safer with one of them.”

Before they could argue with him he shot off into the sky, leaving a cloud of dread behind him. Tucker and Sam exchanged meaningful glances. 

“Follow him?” Tucker checked.

“Absolutely follow him.”

~*~

As yet another ectoblast grazed Danny’s side, he realized Tucker and Sam had maybe been right about letting someone else handle this. His head was not in the game. He couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that swirled around him and it made the fight against the ghostly crow that much harder to focus on. His newfound popularity also proved to be a complication as it led to more onlookers watching the fight. He couldn’t help but meet the eyes of people in the crowd, and every time he listened to their own voices toll their own death knell, he found himself wide open to a hit from the annoying ghost that honestly wouldn’t have been that much of a challenge otherwise. 

"Three hundred and twenty-one days, thirteen hours.”

He squeezed his eyes tight as he tried not to internalize how little time the concerned woman who looked his way had left, but closing his eyes during a fight was never a good idea.

“Danny!” he heard Sam yell, her voice distant but urgent.

He opened his eyes and saw the crow barreling in to charge with glowing talons ready to claw out his eyes. He immediately acted on instinct and threw out his hands to maybe summon a shield or take the talons to his arms or something.

He felt something cold and heavy fall into his hands, and he swung it without even looking at it too closely. A thin line of green slashed across the ghost and then it vanished. His overzealous slash continued through the brick of a nearby building that weathered and aged as decay seeped out from the fine line in the brick. When the arc of his swing stopped, he finally looked at what he held in his hands.

A scythe. Long and slender, the curved blade made a full crescent as it tapered into a neat, sharp point. The edge of the blade glowed with a faint green light, but it almost hurt to register: like its presence cut through the very existence of what his mind could accept as real. It looked so simple in his arms, and yet it felt dangerous. Deadly.

He stared dumbfounded at the blade in his hands. It felt heavy in his arms, but not because of its actual weight. It actually felt too easy and natural to swing. His fingers gripped around the shaft like he was meant to hold it. It felt so right and natural in his arms, and that scared him even more.

He immediately dropped it, but instead of hearing it clatter to the ground, it vanished into shadows as the absolute black swallowed it.

With panic etched all over his face, he looked desperately towards Sam’s voice, but only after he remembered that he didn’t dare look towards his friends. He dropped his gaze, but they understood his intent and rushed over to him.

“Danny, Danny are you okay?” Sam asked as she grabbed her friend’s arm.

“No…no I don’t think so,” he admitted. As hard as it felt to admit, he wasn’t well. He had no idea what the hell was happening, but he just knew none of this could be good. A sense of dread lingered around him that he couldn’t shake. A whisper of an answer tickled at the edges of his mind, but it was so cloaked in fear and terror that he didn’t dare even acknowledge its presence.

Sam nodded morosely and squeezed his arm. “That’s okay. We’ve got this Danny. C’mon, let’s get to my house. I think I know what’s going on.”

~*~

Danny sat in his favorite chair in the Manson library. Most of the room felt like something out of a middle-aged woman’s Pinterest page: a million shades of beige accented by a few plants or vines. Some books even had their spines facing the wall because their binding was too colorful. Sam managed to carve out a corner for herself. She separated this corner out with deep red curtains and inside its sanctuary she kept all her books (spines proudly out, thank you very much) on black shelves. Gothic sconces of wrought iron glowed with just enough mood lighting to read by and plush wine red chairs provided the perfect getaway to crawl into with a book. 

One of those chairs sucked him up inside its cushions and he let the weight of the fabric surround him. Sitting here with the dark mood lighting while Sam read aloud some new book or poem always felt like a comfortable space. Maybe Sam hoped the familiarity would bring some comfort to him right now, but even its power couldn’t counteract the horrible twisting in the pit of his stomach.

His friends swore they wouldn’t look at his face and would focus on his chest instead, but he still didn’t feel comfortable looking anywhere but at his wringing hands in his lap, just in case. He’d heard about too much death already today: too many times that seemed far too short for the nice faces that seemed burned into his mind. He had no idea who these people were and probably would never see them again, but he would forever remember their faces and would never be free of the knowledge of their death.

Would it be quick? Slow? Painful? Could he stop it? Could he save them? If he remembered their faces could he hunt them down and try to save them? Maybe not the ones in decades, but the ones who would be dying in the next few months? Could he help them so they didn’t end up like the old man on the street who died before his eyes while he was powerless to stop it?

The thump of a large book on a table shook him out of his thoughts as Sam stood near the small round table. “You’re not gonna like this, but I think I found the answer.”

That certainly caught his attention and he looked towards the book. Whether he’d like the answer or not, he needed to know. The heavy old tome looked like every Victorian book that Sam loved to collect, with a dark binding, embossed edges, and thick block lettering for the title.

The Tome of Record for the Myths and Legends of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.

No. 

No, that couldn’t be the right book. That was not the answer.

He shook his head and backed up in his chair as far away from the book as he could physically get. “No. That’s not the right book.”

Sam approached both Danny and the book gently, like any sudden movement would spook him. “I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but I know I’m right about this.”

Tucker leaned in from his chair and his eyes grew wide. “Wait, apocalypse? Sam you’re serious?”

“No, she’s not serious because she’s wrong!” Danny insisted.

Sam slowly opened the book and turned to a page marked with a dark black ribbon. “Just look at it Danny. It explains a lot.”

Against his better judgment he peeked at the new chapter: “The Fourth Horseman: Death.” He didn’t let himself read any more, but the haunting image of a black-cloaked figure atop a skeletal horse with a skull for a face and a very familiar looking scythe froze him in his seat.

The death knells. The skull. The scythe. 

No, just because it made sense, that didn’t mean anything. Lots of things in this world made sense without actually being right, and this was just another one of those things. It didn’t mean that he– He couldn’t possibly be–

Tucker trailed a finger along the text of the book as he read, his mouth and eyes falling agape. “Wait Sam are you…are you trying to say that Danny is…Death? Like the Death?”

He felt an irrational anger towards Tucker for putting into physical words what his mind refused to acknowledge. Because it was crazy…right? Some crazy, wacky theory. This couldn’t be reality, it just…it couldn’t be.

Sam nodded solemnly. “I am. I don’t know why, but Danny has somehow become the personification of Death.”

For some reason the finality in Sam’s voice forced him to really hear it. As much as he wanted to deny it, the nagging whisper always there on the periphery of his mind had been trying to tell him the whole time. He knew it from the first countdown, but refused to see it. He knew what the symbolism of the scythe meant, but he refused to connect it. And he knew that all of these pieces only added up to one possible explanation. Just like Sam, he’d already reached the same conclusion, but he just refused to see it. He couldn’t avoid it anymore.

He was Death.

He needed to get away from the book, the picture, the proof. He didn’t want to see it anymore. He fell through the chair, momentarily grateful to have some kind of physical barrier between him and the book, but the piercing, empty eyes of the skull on the page followed him even through the chair. He scrambled back along the floor until he hit the bookcase behind him. 

“No no no I don’t want this! I don’t want this!” he screamed in ever increasing levels of panic. He looked at his shaking hands, almost expecting to see bony hands stretching out instead of his normal skin. He grabbed at his face, his arms, anything to make sure that he hadn’t turned into some skeleton. “I can’t–I don’t want to be Death!”

Sam and Tucker rushed over to his side and pulled his trembling body into a hug. They tried to bestow him with whatever comfort they could, but they knew it wouldn’t be enough. Just like they did when Danny first emerged from the portal, they were at a loss for what they could do and they just tried to be a physical support for him.

Danny grabbed onto his friends desperately as he shook in their arms. He didn’t know how much he needed their reassuring strength and strong hug until he found himself in their arms. Maybe he relied on them too much for emotional stability, but something about their presence served as a grounding force for him and he needed that now more than ever.

“We’ll figure it out Danny,” Sam tried to assure him. “We always do.”

They did always figure it out. The accident, the ghost powers, the ghost fighting, the secret identity, Pariah Dark, Vlad, his horrifying potential future - they’d found a way to make it through everything that his strange life had thrown at him. It stood to reason they could make it through this too, but for some reason this seemed so much more imposing than all those other obstacles.

The personification of death. What did that even mean? Did he have to reap souls? Was he actually the one responsible for killing people? Was he now to blame for everyone’s deaths? Did he have to help people cross over or find peace or meaning in their lives? Could he still live his normal human life? He’d already been neglecting it so much because of ghost fighting, but would this completely eclipse everything else? It felt like such a huge burden to throw onto his already overburdened shoulders, and he didn’t know if he had the strength to keep it all up.

But even more than a burden, being Death pushed him even closer to the dark stench of death that always seemed to swirl around him. He already straddled a very fine line between life and death, and while he didn’t always know where he found himself on either side of it, he cherished the balance. He liked being reminded that he was still alive. He died, and he was a ghost, but he was so much more than that too. His heart beat, he kept growing - he still had a life. He needed those reminders to stay sane. But being Death…it pushed him so much further towards that darker side. It disrupted that balance that he held onto so desperately. Those reminders of life seemed so much further away, like they could be snatched away from him at any moment, and he didn’t want to think where that constant focus on death and loss would take him.

He couldn’t keep dwelling on this. He was a boy of action, and he never did well just thinking through things. Maybe that helped Jazz, but he needed to do something. Figure this out, get rid of it, something. So he pulled away from the hug slightly, enough of a signal for his friends to release the warm group hug. He missed that comfort immediately, but he couldn’t stay huddled up against the bookshelf forever.

“How did this happen?” he croaked. Trying to find a reason meant that he had to accept it as the truth, and that hurt, but he’d already accepted it. Now he just had to get rid of it.

“I don’t know,” Sam admitted. “But Danny, we have a much more pressing issue than how.”

“More pressing than this?” Danny questioned, almost hurt that his internal turmoil and need to solve this wasn’t considered a pressing issue.

“Yeah, because it gets worse.”

Panic clenched around his heart again. How could it possibly get worse? This already seemed like a destitute situation with no possible solution on the horizon.

“Worse than Danny having death powers?” Tucker inquired. Well at least Tucker was on the same wavelength.

She nodded morosely. She took a deep breath, but as she slowly breathed out she straightened up, her brow resolute. “The summoning of the fourth horseman…it’s the final sign. The apocalypse is coming, and Danny’s going to be forced to make it happen.”

~*~

I hope you all enjoyed this! It's a little late of a submission for Ectober's Day 17 Gothic Horror prompt, but apparently world-building a multi-chapter longfic took a lot longer than I expected. But I'm excited to share some of my lore behind this ghostly version of the four horsemen over the next two chapters!

[morganski-19]

Chills Right to the Marrow Part 46

ao3 link| part 1 . . . part 43, part 44, part 45

Something shifted between Steve and Eddie. Something important. There wasn’t any yelling. Or resentment hiding in their eyes. No, they were just talking with each other. Standing close and looking comfortable. No sign that they were flinging insults at each other last week. None of that.

They were just acting normal. Like they weren’t screaming at each other the past few weeks. As if they’ve been friends for years.

Which is weird, right? It’s weird.

Robin and Nancy are here too, off in their own little world. Just talking in some of the deck chairs. When they should. Robin’s so close to Steve, she would know about all the fights. All the things that would have been said. She’d be biting back. She’d be giving Eddie hell if he said anything too mean. But there she sits, like nothing happened.

How can everyone be acting like nothing’s happened? So much has happened and no one is talking about it. They’re all so ready to go back to real life, and Dustin feels so stuck. It’s like he can’t move on. Not when the consequences are staring him right in the face and he can’t stop looking at it.

Max is just sitting on the first step in the pool because she can’t swim without someone holding her. Her limbs are still building their muscle mass after the break. Not to mention that fact that she’s fucking blind.

But here she is, smiling and laughing. Not feeling out of place at all. Her life has changed on its axis, and she seems to be over it. Just moved on. Accepted her new life.

And Steve’s standing in the shade with his sunglasses on. Dustin saw him take a migraine pill earlier, but he’s still out here. When he doesn’t need to be. He can be inside taking care of himself, but he’s out here, watching them.

Talking to Eddie, who’s standing with his forearm crutches. He could be sitting. Resting. Not forcing himself through pain that Dustin knows is happening right now.

He’s wearing a T-shirt and shorts. Without all the layers, Dustin can see the damage to his skin. The reddened marks of healed tissue. Still ragged and slightly concave. So different from the rest of his pale complexion. Because the nerve damage wasn’t enough, Eddie has to have obvious scarring too. For the rest of this life.

They are just going to live like this for the rest of their lives and continue to smile. How can they continue to smile?

Dustin wouldn’t blame them if they never did. He wouldn’t blame them if they were angry forever. Upset that their lives have changed forever in seconds. One small event, and it’s over. He wouldn’t blame them. But somehow, they can keep moving. Keep walking forward.

It feels like everyone is ten steps in front of Dustin. Like something is tied to his feet, keeping him stead while they can move on. His mind continuously reminding him of their scars that they can just look past.

Steve keeps looking at him. Saying something to Eddie that Dustin can’t hear. Somehow, he knows it’s about him. Because of course, Dustin can’t act normal for one afternoon. He had to make this all about him, when he’s not the one whose life has changed.

Will bumps his shoulder into his. “Are you ok?”

Dustin shrugs. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know, you just look like you’re anywhere but here. I know what that’s like, it’s not fun.”

Because Will has been through so much more than Dustin has. He’s been kidnapped, possessed, moved across the country. When what, the most Dustin’s gone through was breaking his ankle and seeing some of his friends almost die. Pretty run of the mill for them at this point.

“I’m ok,” the words come out of his mouth like a foreign language. He’s not even sure what they mean. “Just tired.”

“That makes sense. The fourth is coming up, that would be bad memories for you.”

Not just for him.

“What do you mean?” It means bad memories for all of them. His were the least of their problems.

Sure, he roamed around a Russian bunker for a night and ended up living. Max lost her brother, El lost her dad. They all fought against the mind flayer. It shouldn’t affect him more than him.

“I mean, you never really told us about those few days. All I know from it has been from what Lucas told me about Erica’s nightmares. And the little bits you’ve dropped like it means nothing. That week was hard for all of us, especially you.”

“I wouldn’t say especially me,” he tries to say.

“I would,” Will interrupts him. “You haven’t been the same recently. With everything that’s been going on, and with the anniversary coming up, I just wanted to make sure that you were taking care of yourself. You’re allowed to feel whatever it is you need to feel about this.”

Is he? Someone was supposed to keep smiling. It was supposed to be him.

He only wished his brain could realize that. So, he could stop thinking about bright lights and dark tunnels. The song that played in the background of the recording. Haunting as he took each step.

The weight of an electric poker in his hands. The way it buzzed as he pressed it against skin. How easy it was to hold in place. Watch as it made someone drop to their knees. To the floor.

Shoes on concrete, running faster than he ever has. Unable to process what just happened, immediately onto the next problem. Holding up the weight of someone he thought was so strong. Eyes so dilated, Dustin couldn’t see the brown of his iris anymore. His laughter rings through the elevator while the blood drips from his face.

There was so much more than he knew. So much more that Steve protected him from. But Dustin was smart enough to put the pieces together in those seconds. To feel the weight of what happened fully washing over him.

He couldn’t focus on it then, but he could focus on it now. When Steve has his sunglasses on and stands as far from the noise of the pool as he can while still keeping an eye on them.

It was Dustin’s fault that he had to at all. It was Dustin’s fault for a lot of the things that happened to them. If he hadn’t gotten involved. If he hadn’t pushed. Where would they all be right now?

tag list (closed): @the-they-who-nerded, @insteviewetrust, @croatoan-like-its-hot, @jettestar,

@tinyplanet95, @steddie-as-they-go, @slv-333, @littlecelestialmoth, @thatonebadideapanda,

@fandomsanddeath, @marismorar, @wonderland-girl143-blog, @glass-bottle03, @gutterflower77,

@here4thetrama, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @jaytriesstuff, @cryptid-system, @manda-panda-monium,

@resident-gay-bitch, @anaibis, @xxsutherlandxx, @forevermineliv, @mugloversonly,

@gregre369, @n0-1-important, @different-tale-student, @spectrum-spectre, @tartarusknight,

@devondespresso, @swimmingbirdrunningrock, @cheertain, @anti-ozzie, @autumncrocusandladybug,

@greeniebean911, @cr0w-culture, @stillfullofshit, @connected-dots, @daisynotquake,

@morgannotlefay, @a-little-unsteddie, @dolphincliffs, @maskofmirrors, @me-and-my-sloth,

@papergrenade, @waelkyring, @sweetheartprincess28, @katouasobj, @astercomoasflores

[ghostgirl-22]

It’s November so… uh Happy Halloween 👻

18+ !NSFW! Explicit

Day 31: That one time at the Halloween Party

Pair: Artrick + Tashi

It ends upstairs in the bedroom of some star baseball player, Tanner Mulligan, he’s got a full ride to Stanford just like Tashi. Patrick has no idea who the fuck he is but both Art and Tashi seem to know him. It’s how they got invited to his Halloween house party in the first place. There were so many people, hell Patrick probably had a full conversation with him but he doesnt remember much before the bedroom.

He remembers what they dressed up as. He was Mario, red sweater, blue jeans, gloves, a dumb cap and mustache that kept dropping off so he gave up. Tashi was the princess peach in a short little knock off pink dress with frills and a crown. And Art matched him in green but still so blonde he could’ve been a princess too.

It was supposed to be a couples costume but obviously Patrick would never choose if he could get away with it. So they all went together. Art still desperate for his girlfriend and Tashi still playfully amused about it.

It doesn’t matter though. Patrick can handle him. At least that’s what he thinks.

Art is popular among the tennis team but everyone at Stanford seems to adore Tashi. So it was just easier for Patrick to spend the night with Art and watch Tashi work the room. Besides he’s got prime real estate, a spot next to Art crowded onto one of the sofas.

Well it’s not easier, Art’s sitting between Patrick and one of his tennis friends that clearly has a huge crush on him. It’s so fucking obvious to everyone… except probably Art.

It’s ironic actually.

Patrick would go commiserate if he didn’t hate the guy. He’s working on Art, when Patrick’s not even there and Patrick thinks he’ll lose it if someone else gets to fuck him first.

Thankfully Art’s oblivious to the fact that the boy is steadily bringing him drink after drink to get him drunk. Something Patrick might do if he imagined they could make out at the end of the night. It annoys him though that this guy seems to know this about Art.

So Patrick takes Art’s drinks when he’s half done nearly every time to slow the process. It does earn him several frustrated glances from Art’s new boyfriend to which Patrick smirks in response. If he wants it he can get in line. Art’s conveniently oblivious to their silent feud, though. He’s busy pointing out girls in slutty Halloween costumes.

“Isn’t she your type?” Art asks about at least three different girls. Patrick thinks maybe Tashi has broken him because as hot as some of these girls are they aren’t really on Tashi’s level for him.

Even more amusing, Art must notice him watching, when Tashi chats with a group of 4 or 5 boys dressed as zombie football players because he leans over and whispers. “Brandon is the quarterback, he has a crush on her, they’re in the same biology class.”

“Shut up,” Patrick says.

“What? I’m just saying…they work in the lab together. He’s kinda handsome, right?”

Patrick looks at him, smirking. “You’re such a manipulative little shit.”

“I’m not being manipulative, I’m just literally telling you about him,” Art hiccups, snatching his drink back and taking a sip. He’s already drunk. Such a fucking lightweight.

“Yeah Patrick, I think he’s right. You should go check on your girl. I mean… they are standing kinda close.“ It's Art’s crush. He really wants Patrick to leave and Patrick really wants to tell him to fuck off.

“So I go over there and fly off the handle. Tell her she can’t talk to any boys and she tells me to fuck off and comes crying to you right?” Patrick says to Art and he shrugs, shit eating grin on his lips.

He’s not wearing the Luigi cap or mustache any more, boy crush playfully snatched it so Art would take his hat and so he’s got on this Indiana Jones Fedora. He looks stupid cute. If anything Patrick would tell him not to talk to any more boys. He trusts Tashi… at least enough to know she wouldn’t fuck around without telling him. But Art would do it and think nothing of it. They aren’t dating after all…

Tashi walks over then with another friend, some pretty girl with long braids, dressed like a vampire in thigh high stockings just like Tashi’s except black instead of white.

“This is my boyfriend, Patrick,” she says smiling at her friend. “Patrick this is Olivia. She’s my RA.”

”Hi,” Patrick says, trying to focus on her face and not their legs. He’s had enough drinks though that he’s fantasizing about them tangled up together. Tashi’s clearly tipsy or something, one of her white tights is slipping down her calf, her crown is on crooked, her eyes are glassy and she looks dangerously close to spilling whatevers in the red solo cup she’s holding.

“I’ve definitely seen you before, trying to sneak around so you could spend more than three nights in a row in her dorm room,” Olivia says laughing.

“She’s the reason we got away with it,” Tashi grins, she lifts her sleeve back up on her shoulder and it immediately drops again.

“I love you,” Patrick tells her friend and she smiles.

“Look I love her but don’t do it again. I need this job,” Olivia says.

“We won't, he's staying with Art tonight,” Tashi says.

“Technically the rule goes for the whole building but I’ll just pretend you didn’t say that…since I’m not his RA.” Olivia says.

“And that’s why we love you,” Tashi links their arms and they start chatting two feet in front of them. Art’s not being subtle, he’s looking at Tashi’s thighs while boy crush asks him if he wants another drink.

“Where’s the bathroom?” Patrick asks Art.

Art hiccups and points over at a line of people waiting near a closed door. Patrick groans. “I don’t think I can wait.”

”There’s another one upstairs you can go to,” boy crush says. “I’m sure there’s no line.”

“Come with me,” Patrick says to Art.

“But then we’ll lose our spot on the sofa,” Art points out, his eyes drifting back to Tashi’s long legs.

“I can show you where it is,” Tashi says, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“Thank you,” Patrick gets up. And of course Art stumbles to his feet too and Patrick smirks. “I thought you wanted your spot.”

“I uh.. I might have to go too,” Art says.

“The group costume is so cute,” Olivia laughs looking over the three of them.

“Thank you,” Tashi curtsies adorably in Olivia’s direction and Olivia grins. Tashi takes his hand and he reaches for her cup before she almost spills. “My bad,” she giggles and she gives it to him. “It’s rum and coke.” Tashi says in his ear.

He takes a sip as they go upstairs. And the alcohol seems to hit him harder as they’re walking around. The second bathroom is full. It seems like there’s a couple hooking up in there. Tashi giggles as she presses her ear against the door.

“I think there’s another bathroom,” Art hiccups.

“Lead the way,” Patrick says.

That’s how they end up in Tanner’s bedroom in varying degrees of inebriation. Tashi sits on the bed to pull up her white knee high socks she can’t stop giggling and it makes Patrick smile.

”How do Mario and Luigi even know a princess anyway? Aren’t they plumbers? And what’s with all the turtles?” She’s cracking herself up and it makes him and Art laugh.

“And…” Art adds. “what the fuck is yoshi?”

”He’s a fucking dinosaur,” Patrick says.

This cracks them up even more. Everything is so funny and Patrick thinks if he doesn’t catch his breath and go in the bathroom soon he’ll pee his pants. But the funniest part is when Art leans in and kisses him. It’s just a little at first, and then again. Then he’s pushing his tongue in Patrick’s mouth.

“Mm,” Patrick steadies him. “Hold that thought while I pee.” He whispers.

Tashi giggles. “You two are fucking now, huh?”

“God, imagine,” Patrick rolls his eyes.

Art blinks like he’s just realized where he is and what he’s done in front of her. “I didn’t mean to…” he starts.

“I know,” Patrick smirks. “It has been well documented that you didn’t mean to every single time it happens.”

Art rubs his face. “I’m really drunk,” he groans.

Patrick can’t hold it any longer. He goes in the bathroom and when he comes out he’s not surprised to find the two of them making out. Art’s doing exactly what he might do to Patrick when he gets dizzy drunk. Trying to get on top, straddle her. And Tashi is playing her fingers into his hair pulling him closer.

If it was anyone but Art he’d probably be pissed. Instead he’s having trouble catching his breath.

He walks closer to the bed and plays with a strand of Tashi’s hair. She seems a bit startled and she pulls back looking up at him a little guilty. “Dont be mad… you kissed him first.”

“It’s okay…it’s hot,” Patrick says, quietly. He feels dizzy, his cock is already full in the steps it took for him to reach the bed.

Tashi bites her lip and pulls her hair back squeezing her thighs together. Arts licking his lips… they’re all messy covered in her gloss. His mouth now stained the same color as hers. He stares up at Patrick, lips parted, eyes dilated. Patrick’s one step away from blue screening.

“Are you two gonna fuck?” Patrick asks.

Tashi sits on her hands, crossing her legs. She can’t sit still… it’s such a tell. “I thought you two would.”

Art shrugs and Patrick snatches the fedora off his head, as cute as he looks Patrick kinda hates that he’s wearing it. “You know he wants to fuck you right?” He tosses it on the bed.

“Who Carter?” Art sniffles. “No he doesn’t. You think everyone wants to fuck me.”

“No he does,” Tashi says, grinning. “I thought you wanted him too. You guys flirt all the time.”

“Because he can’t help himself,” Patrick says, teasing his fingers into Art’s hair.

“He’s my friend.” Art says.

“How many times have you kissed him?” Patrick asks.

“Only twice,” Art hiccups. “Mm and I was really wasted and confused. So it doesn’t count.”

“What the fuck?” Tashi giggles.

“He’s a menace,” Patrick straddles him on the bed. Art leans back on his elbows.

“Mm not being manipulative.” He murmurs.

“No of course not,” Patrick leans over him and takes his mouth. It tastes good, the way Tashi’s lipstick tastes. He licks Art’s lips and Art licks his tongue, pushes it inside Patrick’s mouth deepening the kiss. He can hear the beat of the stereo thrumming through the house and Tashi taking light breaths. He feels Art getting harder as he grabs Patrick’s face, he’s such a good kisser. It’s not surprising that Carter wants him drunk to do it again and again.

Patrick moves his hand down to unzip Art’s jeans and grips his swollen cock. Art gasps, licking his lips as Patrick pulls back. “I get to fuck you first,” Patrick whispers. “Right?”

Art moans as Patrick works on him. “I’m not even… oh fuck…he’s just my friend, Patrick.”

Tashi takes a breath and crosses her legs again.

“I know, and you’re such a good friend Art. Till you're tipsy in his bed with your mouth on his cock.”

“No,” Art breathes. “It’s not like that…He’s not like you.”

“Not like me how?”

“Patrick,” Art says breathlessly as Patrick stops touching him.

“Not like me how?”

“Mm so drunk,” he whines, squirming and stretching out beneath Patrick. Patrick traces Art’s mouth with his fingertips and he opens up right away. Sucking them inside while staring up at Patrick.

“Jesus Christ.” Patrick breathes. He ponders what to use for lube because he needs to fuck him right now or he might go insane.

Tashi lays on the bed next to Art. And Patrick slowly pulls his fingers out watching her.

“You’ve never had anything inside you?” She asks, softly playing with his hair..

Art closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“I promise it feels so good,” she whispers. “Really fucking good.”

“God,” Patrick breathes.

Art opens his eyes and turns to look at her shyly. She grins, touching his cheek and he kisses her. Patrick grips him again, he’s gentle with it. He doesn’t want Art to come yet but he’s dripping, dripping, dripping wet from the tip. Art sighs as Tashi pulls back, her fingers lingering in his hair.

”You’re such a pretty boy,” she says softly. “You should let him fuck you.”

“Your boyfriend?” Art says.

“Mmhm,” Tashi says, quietly. “Or maybe… you want to fuck him?”

Patrick thinks he’s in love with her.

Art bites his lip and reaches for Patrick’s zipper. Patrick doesn’t waste time waiting for him. He undoes it himself before getting Arts jeans all the way off.

Art gazes at him and hiccups, grinning. “You want to put it in me?” He’s come apart like a little slut, legs spread wide, flushed all down his neck, cock so full, heavy. Patrick starts to grab at his sweater and Art lifts it off. Patrick doesn’t have lube but Tashi has a condom that’s covered in it in her bag so Patrick kisses her. She grins against his lips and helps him take his sweater off.

Patrick then looks at Art beneath him, nothing but raw, needy, anxious energy. He nudges Arts thighs further apart and kisses him. Slowly. Letting it build.

Art lets him, stretched out beneath pushing his tongue in and out like sex and moaning till Patrick can’t take much more. He positions himself and feels Art starting to tense. He presses…slowly… and Art starts to react as the tip enters.

“Wait…” he breathes. And Patrick thinks he might kill him. Just take the pillow and smother him. He slips out again and licks his top lip forcing himself to calm down.

“Yes?” He says breathlessly.

“What if someone tries to… tries to… is the door locked?” Art asks.

“I can lock it,” Tashi says.

”She’s gonna lock it,” Patrick says, and Art nods. Patrick goes to try again and Art sighs.

“Patrick wait… have you ever… have you ever done this before?”

Patrick presses his lips together trying to find the best answer that will lead to the least amount of follow up questions.

“Art I promise I won’t let anything happen to you.” Tashi says, climbing back on the bed.

“Okay,” Art breathes.

“Okay?” Patrick says raising his eyebrows.

“Can you go slow? I’ve never…” he trails off and he sounds oddly lucid.

“Yeah I’ll go slow. But you’ve got to let me fucking go or you’re gonna kill me,” Patrick says.

Art nods again and adjusts his head on the pillow. Patrick bends over so their faces are inches apart and he cradles Arts face in his hands. “Just close your eyes. I’m only gonna fuck you like a friend. A really good friend.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Art says, biting back his smile. Patrick licks at his mouth and Art opens for him. Another kiss and a moment later Patrick starts again easing into what is honestly deliciously tight wet heat. Art is squeezing right away which feels insanely good. Fuck. Maybe he’s having a religious experience. He’s wanted this for so fucking long. He’s halfway in and Art is pulling his legs up on either side of him.

“Oh fuuck… Patrick…” Art moans breathlessly. And Patrick thinks he’ll probably embarrass himself and come on one or two strokes if Art's voice continues to sound like that.

When he gets fully inside Art is holding his breath. And Patrick smiles and slowly pulls back. When he’s mostly out, Art breaths out again. He’s fucking shivering.

Patrick pushes again and gazes at him, rubbing his stomach. “Okay?”

“Mmhm,” Art says, tense.

“Relax. Breathe through it,” Patrick says, probably talking to himself more than anything.

Art nods and tries to let it out. Patrick is pretty proud actually for lasting this long. He goes for it again and Art’s breathing so deep and then he moans.

“Is it okay?” Patrick asks. The sound is going to kill him. Make him nut inside all prematurely like he’s fucking sixteen.

“Yes,” Art says. He’s still shivering. “Mm fuck… yes, yes, yes,” Art moans into his ear.

Tashi sighs and Patrick can see she’s got her hand between her thighs. And fuck, this moment is gonna do permanent damage to Patrick’s brain. He thinks he might die actually.

Patrick is something like five strokes in before Art breaks him completely. He’s watching Art’s tummy rise and fall when Art begins moaning for it in earnest and clenching so tightly.

It’s so fucking delicious that Patrick knows he won’t last much longer… he thinks of death, dying, his sister, his mom, his stupid brother…anything to keep himself together but nothing is fucking helping. So he grips at Art’s cock and starts jerking him… thankfully it only takes twice before Art’s spilling all over himself, his hips jerking up erratically and the sound, the sounds he can’t tell who’s doing what anymore…even his own voice is foreign to his ears. Patrick just loses it. Just fucking can’t anymore.

“Fuck,” Patrick groans, collapsing on top of him.

Art takes shallow breaths. “Mm Patrick?” He tangles his fingers in Patrick’s hair.

“That was,” Tashi whispers, her voice still pitched with arousal, she’s trying to catch her breath. “Did you like it?”

“Mmhm,” Art hums.

“I told you.”

Patrick can hear them kissing again.

He’s ready to fall asleep right here. Listening to them. Listening to Art's heartbeat. He thought that this would fucking cure him but he might actually be more sick over Art than he was before he fucked him. He’s certain everything that just happened in Tanner's little bedroom will be permanently etched into his memory. Even if the rest of the day isn’t.

He knows they eventually got dressed and that maybe they mixed up the red and the green. He doesn’t know what the fuck happened to the fedora or Carter for that matter. He remembers going back to the dorm. Watching Rocky Horror picture show. Tashi falling asleep in Arts bed while he slept on the floor with Art. And he remembers Art doesn’t pull away when he links their fingers together.

———————-

Thank y’all for reading. Master list is here.

[beef-brisket]

Everyone was chatting and laughing. Some shared stories of Sir Pensious. Even Adam tried to recall one. He was having trouble, even though he fought him a lot, he couldn't remember a good story about him. But that time he tore his coat seed to have gotten a laugh.

A lot were talking to Peter, and how he actually managed to kill the first man.

Lucifer hadn't seen much of Alastor these last couple of years. Well, a couple of thousand years. He's had meetings with him, sure. But that wasn't the same. He wasn't his first man anymore.

Even though Alastor was a spre spot for Lucifer and he got shat he deserved, it still hurt watching everyone laugh and cheer his death.

He used to be Lucifer's best friend. And something more. But that was a long time ago.

He excused himself and left the room. He needed quiet.

Charlie: Dad?

Lucifer stopped on the stairs. He should have teleported.

Lucifer: Yes, hun?

Charlie: Are you okay?

Lucifer: ...I'm fine, Charlie. Don't worry about me! Just a bit tired from the cooking.

Lucifer laughed, but he knew Charlie could see through it.

Lucifer: Go enjoy your dinner, Charlie. Adam put a lot of effort into making it.

Charlie: Would you like me to bring some up for you, later?

Lucifer: Uh... yeah, thank you.

Charlie smiled and walked back into the dining room. Sighing, Lucifer made his way to his room.

As soon as his door shut, he felt himself cry. He mourned his best friend. His first crush. The things they used to do together in thag garden means so much to Lucifer. Sometimes, more than what he and Lilith did.

A few hours had passed. Lucifer was curled up in bed. The tears hadn't stopped.

He jumped at a knock to his door. That much be Charlie with his dinner.

Lucifer: Just- leave it at the door, please Char!

Adam: And let the hell bugs get it? Certainly not.

Lucifer sat up. Adam?

Wiping his face and snapping his fingers to fix his clothes and bedroom, he opened the door.

Adam: Well, don't you look like shit. May I come in? I would like to talk to you.

Lucifer blinked: Uh- yeah, sure.

Lucifer opened the door more so Adam could walk in. He won't lie. He's a little disappointed when he didn't see any food.

Adam: May I?

Adam motioned to the bed.

Lucifer: Sure.

Adam sat down, and looked around. It was a very grand bedroom, fit for a king. Adam chuckled at the thought.

Lucifer: Something funny?

Adam: Oh! Just an inside joke! Now. We slaved away over a hot stove for five hours. And you left dinner after 30 minutes. And I know it wasn't my cooking that scared you off. So, what happened?

Lucifer shut the door and looked down. The fuck was he meant to say? He missed the genocide maniac that tournamented his Ring and slaughtered his people? That he wished they were able to be friends again? That he wishes he fell with him instead of Lilith?

Lucifer jumped as he felt someone grab his hand. He looked and saw that Adam had walked over and now started leading him to the bed.

Once they sat, Adam fixed his glove and turned to Lucifer.

Adam: I know we're not friends. And I know you don't like me very much. But I'm here if you'd like to talk.

Lucifer nods. He does like Adam. He rubs him the wrong way sometimes, but he has a feeling that's not technically his fault.

Lucifer: ...I miss him...

Adam: Who?

Lucifer: Alastor...

Adam tensed: Really? And why is that?

Lucifer: I know- he's hurt a lot of people- and worse! But... I miss who he was. Who we were. I... I loved him once. He didn't understand love in Eden, but I know he loved me. I felt it.

Adam: ...What happened?

Lucifer: ...Lilith... she was made, and I fell for her instead... I left him in the dirt... I didn't even end things with him- I just... walked away...

Adam: ...That would explain his feelings towards you.

Lucifer: Did he say much? In Heaven? About me, I mean.

Adam: Oh boy, did he. If he got drunk enough, he'd go on little tirades about you and him. Then he'd cry about "those skanks". How dare they leave him? He's the first man! But I saw through him, very quickly.

Lucifer: What do you mean?

Adam: He's broken- or, was broken. He'd never let himself get close to anyone. No one even saw him without his exorcist uniform off. Especially his mask. He hated himself. He knew why you two left and took Eve, it was obviously Heavens fault for pressuring the poor man so much, but he wouldn't dare blame them. So, he blamed himself. All of his anger and pain, he took out on sinners. He hated you and Lilith. Sometimes Eve. But he hated himself more.

Lucifer looked away. He had a feeling it was all an act, his cockiness, his ego, his pride. But Lucifer had no idea how to break through. And when they had meetings, they were filled with Alastor talking, Lucifer sighing something, and then him leaving. Even when Lucifer tried to speak with him. He'd just leave.

Lucifer: It was my fault...

Adam: Yeah, it was.

Lucifer: ...not very comforting, Adam.

Adam: Well, it's true. All of you didn't know what you were doing, so you all got hurt. It all started with you, Lucifer. Alastor is dead. And trust me, that's a good thing. He was suffering. He was too far gone. Hopefully, now, he can rest.

Lucifer: Well, their won't be much rest when you're eating him...

Adam: Oh please! I was joking! I'm not actually eating the first man! You couldn't pay me to put him in my mouth! It's just exorcist angel meat, I promise... I buried him out back. Unmarked and all that. So you're welcome to pay your respects.

Lucifer quickly stood: Show me. Please.

Lowkey want an au where Adam has Alastors' powers.

The tentacles

The eyes

The changing size

The shadows

The sass

The deal making

Him owning Husk and Nifty

The musical numbers

The radio control

The tentacles- have I mentioned that before?

The rivalry with Lucifer

Maybe he replaces Alastor entirely. No Alastor. Only Adam. It's always been Adam.

Thanks for coming to my tedtalk.

Only Adam lol This is good! His Husk and Nifty could be Lute and Peter.

He doesn't have to smile all the time does he?

Yessss, and he plays rock instead of jazz lol And yes of course there is a rivalry lol

[holorform2009]

Ok. I've been reading yandere DC x reader stuff and all.

They all have their own unique way of writing and the plots too. But have you ever thought of making the reader a sprunki like?

I've seen others make reader a mermaid, animal/shape shifter, robin, a villain, and etc. But I have never seen someone make reader a sprunki, I know the sprunki just came out a days ago but like.

What I'm trying to say is

What if reader has a Music syndrome? (I made this up, this syndrome does not exist.)

Music syndrome is a person who only speaks music or sound to communicate people or express their feeling or wanted to talk. And of course, this syndrome has no cure. But anyways, if reader has a Music syndrome, they can only let out a noise of what it sounds like a music. Just a single tone. I image reader as brud in sprunki, and I would like to imagine how the DC characters interact reader who speaks music. Their confused expression as to what the reader is trying to say to them.

They tried to understand you but failed to do so, and I also wanted to add a bit of spice here. Since there is a horror version of brud, why not make music syndrome!reader have a trauma ✨

Reader does not like black top hat and it will trigger them, because it reminded them of what he did to their friends, especially wenda— *cough cough* Anyways! And I wanted to imagine the face of every DC characters to reader's head that got bitted by Simon and how shocked they are when they found out you have the tiniest brain that the bite could not reach it and you manage to survive Simon's bite. Walking around like that will give them a fright because you look like a zombie.

How did reader end up in the DC ? Well I want to image a scenario where reader escapes the bloody chaos, managed to escape wenda's wrath and also Black. They see a light grey door, they opened it and poof! They are now in the DC universe!

You are so confused when you enter this universe, when you looked down to yourself you have an arms and a digits. What is this you thought. You take a look around your surroundings and noticed you are not in that hellhole anymore, no more Simon eating what's left of you, no more Wenda stabbing you, and black... You shake your head. You do not want to remember that mean guy.

As you explore this unfamiliar world, you heard what it sounds like a murmur, the tone sounded worried. You looked at the source of sound, wondering who was looking at you. I mean. You head a fricking huge bite mark on your head, who wouldn't be worried about that? Furthermore, who wouldn't be surprised that the fact your still alive from that large wound? You have a smallest, tiniest brain of course.

"yo buddy"

You stopped, and turned around to see a man with black suit and a blue logo on his chest. "You need a medical attention there little guy!" When you blinked, you were snatched into his hold and held you up like Mufasa in the lion king. Startled by his sudden actions, you let out a noise of surprise but to him, he heard you sang.

"🎶🎵🎵🎶🎶🎵!"

So yeah, that's how you met Nightwing.

You are now at the hospital, your big ass bite mark is wrapped up in a pure white cloth. To be honest you didn't fell any pain from the biting or stabbing but it hurts to see your friend hurting you.

A tall lady approached you, gently rubbing circles on your back as she spoke to you "Where are your parents, little one?" What

What's a parent?

"🎶🎶🎵🎶🎵🎵🎶?" You sang. The nurse was left dumfounded at your response, not sure how to reply to that but she only said "Okay..." definitely did not understand what you said right there. "Do you feel any pain or anything that makes you uncomfortable? Just nod if yes and shake if no"

You shake your head no.

"Okay, I'll ask the doctor if you are ready to go"

With that she left, leaving you there. Sitting on the bed as you wonder what are you going to do now since you escaped from hell.

And that's how you end up here.

[bodhrancomedy]

Last Second Angels’ Brigade (Part 1)

by Bodhrán Mullan

Time stops just before I hit the water.

I don’t mean metaphorically. One split second I’m hurtling through nothingness; the wind tearing at my face, my scream somewhere eight feet behind me, snot and saliva and tears streaming upwards like a comet’s tail. The next I’m hanging nose-to-nose with a frozen wave, the air as thick as amber around my body.

Oxygen rushes into my lungs in a wild and painful gasp. I inhale until I feel like I might burst – my gaze locked onto the surface of the water. There is a fish beneath me, pale silver, contorted into a weird twist as it begins to flee my shadow. That sparks a second of guilt among the fear. Poor fish. It didn’t ask for this.

“You know, you haven’t sworn yet. That’s impressive.”

Lifting my head is a full workout. I swear I can feel my tendons creak under the tension. It doesn’t help much, the speaker is somewhere above me: to the left, I think.

I should be scared, but that has all suddenly run out of my body like my ears have sprung a leak. My heart races and I feel sweat beading on my forehead.

“Usually at this point I get a ‘fuck’ or ‘shit’ or ‘Holy Hell’ or something.” The voice is almost bored, richly accented but from where I have no idea. Not English or American.

“What’s happening?” I croak.                                                           

“Right on cue.” There’s a light splashing, like someone walking through a puddle, and then a pair of feet encased in silver trainers enter my eyeline. They’re standing on – no just above – the surface of the frozen water. “Wait a moment. I’d rather not talk at the back of your head.”

They click their fingers, and I flip onto my back. I don’t turn as much as flicker into position. The sensation makes my stomach heave suddenly. It is more like when you reverse a picture on a phone. There’s a nagging feeling of suddenly being two-dimensional.

There is… a person standing beside me. From my upside-down supine position, they tower above me with a face that’s all out of place and distorted. I can see right up their nose. There’s a pearl piercing in the right nostril. They’re brown-skinned with fluffy black hair and I can’t tell if they’re male or female. They’re wearing a white casual jacket and gold t-shirt combo, their pressed trousers matching the jacket perfectly.

Two massive, radiant, feathery wings sprout from their shoulders.

A lot of things click into place very quickly.

“Am I… dead?”

“In a very technical sense… yes and no,” the angel (because what else could it be?) produces a notebook from a pocket and a pen from behind their ear like a children’s magician, “You’re about to be.”

“Help me.” It slips past my lips before I even think it.

“Can’t. You made the decision.” They chew the end of the pen thoughtfully and shrug. “Free will, human autonomy, my hands are tied, yada yada.”

“What?”

“Big Woman Upstairs. She runs all the audits.”

A swell of fury hits me in the chest. I struggle to try and pull myself up, but only succeed in flopping like the fish beneath me in the syrupy air. “Then let me go! Why are you making it longer?”

“Got to. Last second, you see.” They leaf through the pristine pages and tut quietly, “Stealing a gingerbread biscuit from Tesco, 2004. But it does note here it was the type they smother in icing so I’d call that reasonable temptation.”

“Are you here to judge me?”

“Nah, that’s Peter’s deal. Way beyond my pay grade.”

“Then why?”

They look down at me, raising perfectly manicured eyebrows and say, “I told you. It’s your last second. You got to pay your dues.”

I gape at them.

“You, my friend, are the latest recruit to the Last Second Angels’ Brigade.”

The word ‘what’ forms on my lips, but the air isn’t there to voice it. This is far more bizarre than I had ever imagined dying to be.

“Ah, yes, you probably know them as ‘Guardian Angels’, but the Big Woman Herself decided that was a bit generic, plus you’re not actually angels. Just souls.” With the pen still stuck between their teeth, the angel whisks the notebook back into a pocket and leans their face forwards so it is directly above mine. The sun silhouettes their features into incomprehensibility. “We’ve got a few staffing problems up There, have done for a couple of centuries. We weren’t prepared for eight billion of you lot.”

[punksyeet]

ᰔᩚ Drunken Love ᰔᩚ

Plot: Gianna (OC) and Josh reunite after years and the feelings they once had for each other circle right back.

Warning: Hefty flirting, mature language, & smut!

"I'm so excited for your party tonight," I squeal excitedly, spreading butter on my toast.

Trin squeals as well, clapping her hands on my phone screen. "Me too girl! We're gonna get liiiiit!"

I giggle and dance in my seat.

One of my best friends and WWE colleagues, Trinity, is celebrating her 35th birthday at a local club tonight.

"Oh and how could I forget. You know who is gonna be there!" she teases, wiggling her eyebrows.

I roll my eyes playfully and take a bite of my omelette. "Girl you know I just ended things with Carmelo. I don't know if I'm ready to jump back into the dating world this quickly."

About a week ago, I found out through social media that my now ex boyfriend, another WWE colleague, Carmelo Hayes was seen making out with some random bitch at the club.

We were together for what was about to be 2 years, so naturally, I've been hurting a lot recently.

However, Trin's brother in law, Josh and I had a thing going a while back.

It mainly started professionally, when creative came up with the idea of making us playfully flirt whenever we crossed paths - whether it was ringside or during backstage segments.

But once he got traded back to SmackDown to reunite with his family, things kinda fell off.

My crush on him has never died down, though.

That man is beyond words fine, so I know I'll have to dress a little extra tonight.

She lets out a deep sigh. "I understand sis. And trust me when I say that I'd love to have you with us tonight, but if you still need time, I understand."

I give her a mean mug. "Girl you think I'm missing my best friend's birthday? The hell with my breakup, you know I stop at nothing for you ma'am!"

A smile forms on her lips. "This is why I love you girl."

I flick my hair off my shoulders. "I know."

We share a giggle and continue the phone call until it's time for us to get ready.

Once we finish sending our love and saying our goodbyes, I hang up, wash the dishes I used, and head up to my room to find an outfit.

I look in my drawers and find a matching denim corset and mini skirt. I pair the outfit with a black lace thong, and knee-high black boots.

Simple but seductive. Perfect.

————————————————————————————————————————

I just made it to where the party is happening.

After a little while of trying to find parking, I find a spot right behind Trin and her husband Jonathan's SUV.

I settle into the spot, grab the gift bag, lock my doors, and head to the building.

"Hey there," the bouncer says as I walk towards the entrance. "You here for Trinity's birthday?"

I smile, nodding. "How could you tell?"

He chuckles. "Well the gift bag was a hint, but I recognize you. Gianna Nicole right?"

I put my hands below my chin and smile. "That's me!"

He smiles, shaking his head. "Alrighty, enjoy your night. The party you're looking for is sat in the very back towards the left."

I smile sweetly before walking past him. "Thank you!"

As soon as I walk in, the deafening music and strong scent of alcohol slaps me in the face.

Taking a deep breath, I scan the swarm of people until I spot Trin dancing on Jon's lap and all the girls hyping her up.

I shake my head smiling, and head towards the group.

Once she sees me, she comes running over. "GIIIIII! YOU MADE IT!" she screams, running into my arms.

I laugh as we share a tight hug and kisses on the cheek.

"Happy birthday beautiful!" I coo, holding up the bag.

"Giiirl you didn't have to get me anything!" she squeals, taking it and pulling me into another embrace.

Once we pull away, hand in hand, we walk over to the group.

"Hey guys! Gi is here!" she announces.

Everyone cheers and some even walk up to greet me with hugs.

The people in attendance are: Jon of course, Josh, their brother Joseph aka Solo, his wife Almia, Joe aka Roman Reigns, his wife Galina, and Jade and Bianca with their husbands.

"It's good to see you again," Josh says sitting down, as everyone goes back to talking to each other. "You look amazing."

I smile sweetly, sitting next to him. "You too, Josh. It feels like it's been forever."

He chuckles, nodding in agreement. "It really does, huh?"

Throughout the night, we share some more small-talk alongside some shots with the group.

And soon enough, I'm drunk off my ass.

Eventually, the whole group heads to the dance floor.

"Come dance with me," I say, getting up and holding out my hand in front of Josh.

He looks up at me smirking, and takes it.

I lead us there, one thing leads to another, and eventually I'm twerking and dancing on him to the beat of "Give it Up to Me" by Sean Paul.

The entire time, he holds my waist and gives me light kisses on my neck.

Eventually I start to get dizzy, so we head back onto the couch, and he holds me in his lap with my arm wrapped around him.

"I-I'm gonna go to the b-bathroom," I manage to get out, before standing up and adjusting my skirt.

"You sure you're okay to go alone?" Trin asks, taking my hand.

I nod in response. "I'll be fine, girl. Don't let me ruin your fun."

We share a quick hug and I head off.

As I finish washing my hands, the door flies open and Josh's sexy ass walks through the door.

"Hey baby," he says sexily, walking up behind me and placing his hands on my waist.

"Hi," I reply, turning around and playing with his chain. "You have to pee too?"

He chuckles and shakes his head. "Nah. I just wanted to make sure you're okay. You were goin crazy on ya boy out there."

I shrug, my lips forming a little bratty smirk. "Just enjoying what I've been wanting this whole time."

He raises an eyebrow. "Oh yeah?"

I nod, sliding my lower lip between my teeth gently, and wrapping my arms around his neck.

"Well same goes for me mama," he replies, snaking his hands up and down my sides. "Once Trin told me you'd be here, I couldn't wait to see you."

"And why's that?" I tease, playing with his damp curly mullet.

He scans my body up and down slowly. "You look real good tonight baby. You down to come kick it with me upstairs for a bit?"

I smirk, raising an eyebrow. "As long as you make it worth my while."

A sexy smirk forms on his lips and he takes my hand, leading me out of the bathroom and upstairs to a VIP room.

** smut warning! **

As soon as we make it into the room, Josh shuts and locks it the door.

"Cmere baby," he says flirtatiously, grabbing my waist and pulling me in.

Our lips automatically clash together, the taste of liquor filling both of our tongues as they slide against each other.

After about two minutes of this, he takes a seat on the couch and pats his leg, signaling for me to sit with him.

I pull down my skirt and straddle him, throwing my arms around his neck and resuming the kiss.

"Fuck mama," he moans against my lips, grabbing handfuls of my ass. "I've been wanting to taste you for so long."

"Mmm baby you ain't tasted nothing yet," I reply, between kisses, my voice barely above a whisper.

He smirks and trails his wet lips down my neck.

I tilt my head to give him more access, moaning as his wet tongue and heavenly sucks go to work.

I reach under his shirt and pull it over his head, which he follows up with by pulling down the zipper of my corset and throwing it across the sofa, revealing my naked breasts.

"My god," he coos breathlessly, massaging and playing with them. "Your body is so fucking gorgeous."

I lean in and feather light kisses from his chest to under his ear and whisper into it. "Then fuck me already."

With just those four words, I suddenly feel his bulge against my inner thigh.

"Mmm," I moan, climbing off his lap and kneeling between his wide open legs. "He's so responsive to me already."

I rub and massage his hard dick through his jeans, as he joins me, and eventually takes it out.

And fitting for Joshua Fatu, this thing is huge.

I'm talking 8-9 inches at least.

So veiny with the most perfect curve.

And soon enough, it's down my throat and covered in my saliva, with Josh's fingers tangled into my hair, guiding my head up and down.

"Fuuuuuck princess," he moans, breathlessly. "Your mouth is so fucking dangerous."

"Cum in my mouth daddy," I coo, between kisses to his tip. "Cum so deep inside your baby girl's mouth and let her swallow every last drop."

And that he does.

Fuck does he taste incredible.

Once I swallow the warm liquid, I stand between his legs, slowly slide my thong down, and throw it across the room.

He scans my now completely exposed body up and down, leaned back against the couch and trying to catch his breath.

Moments later, he pats the cushion next to him. "Come sit ma. Face down, ass up for me."

Immediately following his orders, I climb onto the couch on all fours, and slowly lean down against the sofa, arching my back nice and deep for him.

"Such a good girl for me," he mutters, and slaps my ass. Hard.

I gasp at the sudden feeling.

Moments later, I feel his wet tongue enter me and start eating me out from behind.

"Ohhh fuck Josh," I moan breathlessly, my face pressed against the cushion.

His tongue moves faster and faster with every moan that exits me, and eventually, I hit my climax and cum all over his tongue.

** smut over! **

My mouth hanging open, I flop onto the couch.

He chuckles and leans down, his cold chain brushing against my back, giving me goosebumps.

"You feel good mama?" he asks in my ear, and proceeds to gently lift my face and pull me in for a sloppy kiss.

"Mhmmm," I reply, automatically kissing back, and tugging at his bottom lip as we pull away.

"You taste crazy baby," he says, lifting me onto his lap so that I'm straddling him once more. "Better than Waffle House.....did I just say that?"

I shake my head, smiling. "Knowing how obsessed you are with that damn place, I must taste pretty damn good then."

He chuckles breathlessly and nods.

We kinda just stare into each other's eyes for a second, before he looks down at my lips.

"What?" I ask shyly, playing with his curly mullet.

"I can't admire you?" he teases, rubbing my lower back. "I just ate your brains out and now I can't just look at you?"

I roll my eyes playfully. "Not when your eyes are that dreamy, Joshua Fatu."

"Ain't nobody as dreamy as you princess," he replies.

He leans in and we share yet another steamy makeout.

Our tongues collide so perfectly in sync, almost as if I've been with him this entire time.

He's so fucking perfect.

** smut warning! ** (again)

"You tryna ride me baby?" he whispers in my ear, giving me hickeys down my neck.

"Mhm," I reply, sitting up.

He stops me in my tracks. "Use your words mama."

I take a deep breath before replying. "Y-yes daddy. I wanna ride you."

He nods, smirking and stroking my cheek. "Good girl. Now go get your dick baby."

I sit up and line his dick up with my clit.

I slowly and gently lower myself onto him, becoming more and more of a moaning mess as he enters deeper inside of me.

"Fuck you're so tight," he moans. "Go as slow as you need baby. You're doing so good."

Once he's all the way in, I start moving, bouncing and grinding my hips to the faint beat of the music playing downstairs.

"That's it baby," he says, his voice just barely over a whisper, gripping and guiding my waist. "Ride daddy just like that."

Eventually, we both cum for the second time tonight.

Me all over his dick, and him on his stomach.

** smut over! ** (fr this time)

We clean each other up, get dressed again, and sit on the sofa, his arm wrapped around my waist and me cuddled up against his chest.

"I know we're drunk," he says, breaking the silence. "But I had the time of my life with you tonight, baby."

I smile softly, looking up at him. "Me too."

He smiles back and gently pulls me in by my chin, pressing his lips to mine once more.

The flavor of cum now mixed with the alcohol from earlier is so addicting.

As we slowly pull away, I find myself staring into his eyes once more.

"What?" he teases, mocking me from earlier.

I playfully shove his shoulder and he chuckles.

I grab my phone from the cushion next to me and tap my lock screen.

A fuck ton of messages from Trin pop up.

Trin 💋: You okay sis? You went to the bathroom about 10 minutes ago.

Trin 💋: Just checking in again babes. Lmk if you need me!

Trin 💋: Have you seen Josh? Jon and I can't  find him anywhere.

Trin 💋: Wait.....

Trin 💋: OH DAMN GIRL YOU GETTIN SOME?! ENJOY THAT SAMOAN ZICKKKK! 

Trin 💋: And please don't get pregnant 😭🫶🏽

I giggle, pressing the side button so my lock screen shuts.

"Whatchu laughin at?" Josh asks, looking down at me smiling.

"Trin is onto us," I reply. "We've been up here for like half an hour now."

He covers his mouth with his hand. "Not gonna lie, I forgot we were here for a party."

I suck my teeth and roll my eyes playfully, smiling. "Your goofy ass."

He smirks and kisses my cheek. "Cmon we better go before they think I got you pregnant or something."

I giggle and, hand in hand, we walk back downstairs and to the group.

————————————————————————————————————————

It's the next morning and I woke up with the worst migraine.

I roll over and feel a crunch under my back.

Confused, I turn back over and see a note.

I smile as I read it.

Gi,

Last night with you was a dream. I missed you so much. Sadly I had to leave early this morning for a meeting so I couldn't be there when you woke up. Anyway I hope we can stay in touch this time around. I'd love to see you again.

- Jey ❤️

PS: If you're hungry, there's waffle house in the microwave for you. Hopefully it helps with your hangover.

God this man is such a dream.

I think I love him.

Liked by uceyjucey, jonathanfatu, jadecargill, wwe, and 2.6M others

giannamacri 🦋

View all 32.7k comments

uceyjucey 🔥

trinity_fatu HOTTTT 😍

jadecargill Whew! 🥵

Liked by giannamacri, jonathanfatu, almiafatu, biancabelairwwe, and 1.7M others

trinity_fatu This is 35 🥰🍾

View all 21.3k comments

jonathanfatu 😍

giannamacri 🥹🥰🫶🏽

Tag List: @uceyliyahh ♡

^^ If you’d like to be added, feel free to leave a comment below! <3

Check out my wattpad and twitter! 💟

Follows, feedback, & reblogs appreciated! 🧚🏼‍♀️

[vixenihy]

Late Night Guilt

Summary: A few months after the Cuban Missile Crisis, Jack is still facing the stressful aftermath and his survivors guilt from the war certainly isn’t helping either. Just when he feels he’s out of luck, someone he loves dearly is there to help.

Tags/Notes + Pairing: jfk x jackie kennedy, hurt/comfort?, swearing, mentions of past infidelity, antiquated beliefs about emotions, stress, anxiety.

Word Count: 1.1k

A/N: this is my first fic! i’m not super experienced with writing jackie, i fear. but i noticed that there aren’t any jfk x jackie fics so i wanted to change that. i love these two, lol. the indents may be a bit off bc i wrote this on my phone and used the spacebar as substitutes for indents… sorry lol. the banner was made by me, and the border below belongs to @/menschenopfer !

God Damnit…

Jack lets out a quiet groan of frustration, biting his cheek and hoping that the interviewer didn’t hear him. He’d forgotten to take the medication for managing his nerves. Not like he can remember what it’s called, though. There's too many names to even begin to remember what the Hell it’s called.

The past few months have been nothing but stress; Paper after paper and interview after interview. It’s a total mess, and it’s his fault. The Cuban Missile Crisis was the closest the world came to ending; but who started this beginning to the end? Well, Jack blames no one but himself. He can barely resist the urge to tap his teeth with his fingers in front of the camera focusing on his face.

“Mr. President, after the close call with the Soviet Union and Cuba, a handful of Americans are curious about your story that led to you earning your Purple Heart. We know there is a movie coming out later this year, but would you care to give a little of your own personal perspective?” The interviewer asks. Jack clenches his jaw and tightly interlocks his fingers as a heavy pang hits his heart. The last thing Jack wants to be reminded of is the people who he failed to protect, the two people who died because of him. He can feel the guilt eating away at him as he speaks, his voice just as calm as his face.

“Oh, there isn’t much to say. They sank my boat, and we were stranded for a while. Then with the help of some of the natives, the Navy came and saved me and my crew.” Jack explains calmly, ignoring the burning hot fire, hours of pulling men to the boat, screaming the names of the men he’d lost till daybreak. The swimming, vomiting, starvation, the close calls with death, and the terrible guilt he faces to this day. He left out all of it. No one will know how he felt that day, because Kennedys don’t show how they feel. A real Kennedy never cracks.

Jack snaps back to reality just as the interviewer finishes scribbling his notes.

“Thank you Mr. President.”

—————

“Bunny, it’s okay if you want to talk…You know I'm here for you, don’t you?” Jackie presses as she helps to massage her husband's back. Usually, she wouldn’t press too much into his day and his issues as she believed it wasn’t right to bring up the stress of the day right after it had ended, but Jackie noticed how stressed he looked and how upset he seemed to be when she saw a glimpse of him when he was alone. It worries her. And though he had hurt her in the past with his philandering behavior, she knows why he acts the way he does and how he’s doing his best to change. So, she decides to focus on the future rather than the past.

“I know, Jackie…But I'm fine. It’s just that work is stressful. That’s all.” Jack sighs, laying his head in his arms and closing his eyes as Jackie helps to work the stress out of his body. He wishes that he could tell Jackie all about his day and vent his frustrations, but he finds himself biting his tongue. Men don’t talk about their feelings, especially not a Kennedy man. He can hear his parents chastising him in the back of his mind for even having such a thought. So, he just decides to let it go and switch the conversation.

“Thank you for helping me with my back, Kid…It’s been killing me for the past month. I think picking up Caroline at Christmas really aggravated it.” He continues, turning his head back ever so slightly to look at her. Jackie looks so beautiful with the dim lamp shining behind her, illuminating her figure like an angel. He doesn’t deserve her, how did he get so lucky?

“It’s alright, Jack. You certainly made her day.” She whispers with a chuckle, glancing into his faded green eyes and watching them spark with life, the Jack Kennedy she knows and loves seems to finally come to life.

——

The crackle of fire and the smell of oil taints the air as Jack slowly opens his eyes, groaning in agony as his back spasms. He goes to grab the nightstand, but only finds a cold metal surface beneath his hand. He stumbles as he pulls himself into a standing position, opening his eyes at last. His heart drops as he realizes where he is. He’s over a thousand miles from home, he’s in the same place he fought like Hell to escape from, he’s back.

The South Pacific.

Following the same routine he’s done a hundred times before, Jack leaps off the side of the creaking bow and swims out towards the voices of his crew. They scream and cry out for their skipper and their mothers, a haunting sound he’s listened to too many times before. Just as he’s about to reach one man, he sees a head disappear below the waves. Gasping with fear, Jack dives below the waves and claws his way downwards, the darkness of the sea making it impossible for Jack to see the face of the man he’s trying to save. But just as he reaches out, he slips out of his reach. And he helplessly watches the figure disappear into the dark abyss.

Jack awakes with a start, jolting to find himself back in the luxurious bedroom he’s lived in for the past few years. He sits up gently, bringing himself back to the present with a deep sigh. Attempting to alleviate his back pain, Jack brings his knees to his chest and lies his head on his arms. A tightness settles in his heart as guilt festers in his mind. He forces back a few tears as he remembers one of the hardest experiences of his life. Just before any tears begin to break through, he feels a hand on his shoulder.

“Jack?” Jackie asks groggily, confused to see her husband awake so late. “What’s the matter, Bunny?” Wiping his eyes with his hand, Jack lies down onto his back.

“It’s nothing, Jackie. Just a bad dream is all…” He sighs, turning over onto his side.

“Go back to sleep, Kid. It’s alright..” Jack mutters. But before he can allow himself to drift off, he feels Jackie's arms wrap around him and hold him close to her body. At first, he seems uncomfortable by the touch his wife is giving him. It feels so foreign and uncomfortable. But as the seconds pass, he finds himself warming up to it…

“Maybe we can get away to Hyannis Port on Saturday. No press, no people, no work…Just us. It’ll be cold, but I think you need a break.” Jackie suggests, placing a kiss on her husband's neck and rubbing her thumb over his hand.

“I love you, Bunny.” She sighs, cuddling closer to Jack.

“I love you too, Jackie.” Jack smiles, shutting his eyes and slowly drifting off to sleep.

[trials-of-a-spirit-worker]

All of that. Hell, I'd argue Zuko's actions or lack there of helped heal her even if the plot didn't acknowledge it.

Katara has always been that character everyone has a skewed view of. Sokka can't even remember his mother's face without seeing her, Ang LITERALLY got called out for using his "love" of her as a replacement of the love of his people lost (Aang stans, the guru literally says this, do not throw your temper tantrum here). Zuko and arguably Toph are the only ones who don't have a skewed view of her. (I say arguably because Toph sees her as a wannabe mom figure and kind of teeters on a sister type bond if Bryke appreciated women and their characters and platonic relationships, I'm sure we'd see a very girl power platonic love between Suki, Katara and Toph. But their arguments are pushed towards prissy bossy girly girl and tomboy shit).

So for her to step out of "line" or "her character" is jarring for those who put her in a box. When no, like said above; that's a rightfully enraged child.

Imagine being small and helpless and possibly seeing your mother's body. Imagine being small and helpless and you rushing to go find someone who could help and being too late. Imagine having to pick up where your murdered mother left off without so much of a word. Imagine after all that your Dad up and leaves after her death (I know he had a good reason to, but shut up, it still hurt her). All of that is placed on A CHILD.

Zuko's non verbal "I'll support you no matter what" is what saves her. She comes to her own conclusion, her own feelings, her own validation. Anything Zuko asks of her in the southern raiders is "are you ready?" Not, "you ready for revenge?" Or "time to avenge your mother" Just... "You got this bro?"

Which along with him being the only one to defend her against the allegations her supposed future loving husband throws on her even comparing her to a fucking terrorist because his forever girl shouldn't be so angry, Zuko argues she's in need of closure.

I'd argue in the case between Sokka and Katara, Katara lost more when it came to their mother and dealt with so much more after her death.

Both of them lost a mother, yes, but for Sokka that seems to be where it ends. Sure he's hurt. I'm sure he loved her. But Kya didn't DIE for HIM. She died for Katara and she knows it. Katara has a classic case of survivor's guilt and the guilt of helplessness which is why she tries to help everyone in need. She wants to validate the life Kya gave by saving others from pain. And had the writers had more freedoms than the misogynistic, whiny bitch shackles Bryke had them in, I bet you they'd explore that pain further.

Zuko wasn't a bystander in Katara's journey. He was a presence of backup, only chiming in when he felt it was needed, but still keeping the control to her. His small actions of telling that captain to look at her face when they thought they had Yon Ra and then him looking at Yon Ra when they found him and demanding his silence "this never happened" are validation even if it's not obvious. He stands by her throughout the entire thing. And honestly, I think that's why she forgave him.

He's the one who understands her the most. He's the one who sees her for her. There's no box for her in his mind. She's just Katara and that view came with knowing what she needed and how to help her.

I've found it bullshit they added a whole forced "you're right" to Aangs bullshit to put the little fucker on a higher ground because he's brykes uwu baby self insert. No.

Zuko was right and more importantly, Katara was right for her actions and her need for closure. Point blank.

No, Zuko did not lead Katara down a "Dark Path" in The Southern Raiders

Watching Southern Raiders again, and it's bizarre to me that people read that episode as, "Zuko leading Katara down a dark path." Zuko just wants her forgiveness. He fucked up with her severely and to a level that's different from the others. She feels betrayed by him--she was betrayed by him. She trusted him and he all but spat that back in her face so yeah, she's mad. Is it selfish using her desire for justice, closure, maybe revenge to get her to stop being mad at him? Idk perhaps, if you read it that way.

But the way I read it, I read it as him using his resources to give her what she wants most, and that's her mother's killer. Since he was the face of the enemy, since he lost her trust, let him earn that trust back by taking her to the real face of her enemy.

It's the literal least he can do.

Then he steps back. Zuko let's Katara lead the mission, let's her defend herself against Aang and sadly Sokka too while only playing support. Zuko got a comment in there or two, but for the most part it's Katara doing all the talking.

Also something important people forget is that, neither Katara nor Zuko brought up revenge, that was all Aang accusing them(meant to type her, but saying them fits more) of seeking revenge. Maybe that was her unconscious motivation, but Aang was the one who brought it to the forefront of their minds. Zuko states that this is about Justice and closure, Aang was the one who made this about revenge.

After all that back and forth is said and done, Zuko is largely quiet the rest of the episode save for like 3 lines, none of them involving him telling Katara what to do or what she should do.

Katara leads the mission, Katara makes the choice to bloodbend even when Zuko was already facing the SR general on the boat. He didn't tell her to do that, he wasn't in a pinch so she would've needed to do that, hell she didn't even have to do any of that at all considering there was still water on the ground.

These were all Katara's decisions, all Zuko did was stand by her side.

This isn't me trying to say that Katara's making bad decisions. Far from it actually, I heavily agree with Katara's decisions. This isn't even a "supporting woman's wrongs" scenario either. Katara's completely in the right in my mind.

This is a mission involving finding the man who killed her mother. Not kidnapped like Appa (comparison courtesy of Aang), not whatever the hell the comics are doing with Ursa, murdered. Kya is never coming back and it's because of Yon Ra. Little Katara had to see her mother's dead body after the act was done and has to live with the pain and guilt of it all knowing Kya died to protect her. She's traumatized, she's hurt, so she's very much justified in wanting revenge and it's disquieting how so many people make this about Zuko leading her down some dark path for saying "I want to find the man who killed my mother and took her away from me." Bryke included.

Again, Zuko stands back, adds support in the fight when needed, but ultimately is there as her backup and sources.

And yet, people see all of this as Zuko leading her down a dark path. Because he dared to stand back and not talk Katara down from wanting to merc the man who took her mother away from her. What a villain, she said sarcastically.

Realistically, why would he stop her?

If anything, the fact that Zuko was the only one in her corner for this says a lot because of everyone there, he gets it. Sokka should've gotten it too, but that's a separate point for separate post.

He too lost his mother to the Fire Nation. Whether she's dead or missing, the Fire Nation and, namely his Father to put a face to it, took his mother away from him. He lost her and he believed that she was never coming back. Katara and Zuko are the same in that regard. Something he verbally empathizes with her in the Crossroads of Destiny episode.

He knows she needs this because he's been there, is there, and very much wants to have done that. If facing the Fire Lord wasnt Aang's destiny (and this wasn't a kids show, along with other in meta perspective) it doesn't feel to far to say Zuko probably would've killed Ozai.

Revenge for his mother is a side goal, but it's out of reach as of this moment. He has no information on what happened to her or where she is, so he can't do a thing. He sees Katara, someone who badly wants to regain trust with, with a similar goal and mindset and he actually has the means of helping her. Of course he takes it, but this is her mission, not his. He just provides the information and helps her getting there. That's all, everything after the fact comes down to Katara's choices.

When the moment of revenge happens and Katara decides to not kill him, does Zuko say anything? Does he asks her "what are you doing? He's right there, get revenge!" No. He doesn't say anything. He lets her leave, stares down Yon Ra for a second and follows after her in silence. You cant apply headcannon like "maybe he tried to convince her after the fact," because that can easily be countered with the head canon of him comforting her telling her she did the right thing. Going soley off what we saw in canon, on screen, Zuko watches Katara spare him from skewering the man with ice.

He does have a shocked expression in the background but that can either be read as "wow she didn't do it," or "holy shit she probably could've killed me 10 times over." Again, nothing verbal from him, only expressions, so it's hard to say firmly what he's thinking.

I got away from my main point for a second, but I'm coming back to it to say, none of this is Zuko's doing. Zuko didn't lead Katara down any path, he didn't encourage her to enact a bloody revenge, what Katara does was all her own actions, all he did was point in the right direction. Kinda shit how by making it seem like Zuko's manipulating her, it takes away from Katara's agency in the situation. She made her decisions and no man influenced her.

The only who actively tried to was her brother and Aang into forgiving their mother's murderer for some insane reason that I still can't fathom. Maybe from doing something she'd regret, possibly, but the in canon reason we get is, "don't do it. It's a dark path, you should forgive him for your own sake. Insert the Appa comparison" I bring that up again, because Appa was kidnapped, and then found again and they were all reunited. Yet Aang compared that to Kya being murdered and left for her daughter and husband to find. There's a stark difference.

Aang's pain in that regard is understandable and dare I say more supported by the fandom and show, while Katara is pratically being told by everyone save for Zuko to sit down and forgive for some inane reason that rings hollow, feels insensitive at the absolute best and takes away her agency by turning it all on Zuko as him making her choices for her.

It's shit, and an absolute misread of what the episode showed us, something Bryke somehow missed too.

I'm gonna conclude this with a quick summary of the end of the episode. Katara doesn't forgive Yon Ra, yet spares his life because he's just pathetic. Aang's weirdly giddy telling her that he's glad she forgave Yon Ra, and Katara having to shut that shit down and tell him that no, she didn't forgive her mother's killer, she never will, and she's conflicted on letting him live. Then Katara gets a soft look and smile for the first time in a good long while in the episode as she tells Zuko that she does forgive him. We get a Zutara hug (iconic) and the episode ends on a happy-ish, bittersweet note for her. Zuko does tell Aang that he's right and violence isn't what she needed (an admittedly weird line considering seconds before she just said she doesn't know if she was too weak to kill him or too strong too, implying she probably would've gone through with killing him, but whatever) but that's when Katara is out of earshot.

Zuko didn't lead her down any dark path, he left himself be lead by her and was willing to let it happen. It being whatever Katara's decision was going to be. Good, bad, middle, whatever would have happened would have all been Katara's decision and her agency shouldn't be ignored because of a bad-take misread of a pretty clear cut episode with very little ambiguity.

[jjkarmy091]

Second Best- Jungkook (part 6)

Summary: Being friends with someone who has your heart it’s already hard, let alone when that special someone ends up falling in love with your best friend, the one you think would never make anything to hurt you . Will you be able to ignore it and move on? what will happen when everything gets too much for you to handle?

Genre: Friends to lovers; angst; body insecurities; bullying; friend betrayel;

Pairing: Jungkook x female!reader

Jungkook woke up around 9:30 am. The first thing he did was check his phone in case he had any notifications from Y/n, but had none. He was seriously getting worried about this lack of response. Had something happened with the person Y/n left with? If that was the case he would never be able to forgive himself. He knew he should have gone after her, he's so stupid. 

He got up, took a quick shower, got dressed, grabbed his keys and left, he couldn’t keep up with this uneasy feeling. Putting his helmet on, he drove to the coffee shop Y/n worked. He knew her shifts very well, and that was the only place he could find her. When he got there, he parked his bike, took a deep breath and got in looking everywhere for her but still no Y/n in sight. 

“Hey there moto boy. What can I get you?” Sana asked. Jungkook looked kinda confused. “I was actually looking for Y/n. Is she on her break?” Sana frowned and looked at him suspiciously. 

“You’re kidding right?” Sana exclamed. “You are always together and talk to each otherall the time when you aren’t. You can’t tell me you didn’t know she took some days off” 

The world fell at Jungkook's feet upon hearing that. Y/n took a few days off and didn't even answered to his texts or deign to call? what the fuck was going on. Jungkook nodded his head, said thank you and left, picking his phone up instantly to call Y/n. “The person you called is not available. Please try again later” 

Fuck. Me

------------ 

Y/n fell in love with that place as soon as she saw it. Everywhere she looked she she felt immense peace and everything seemed so quiet and cozy, everything to make the weight on her shoulders disappear. Upon entering the chalet, they were immediately greeted by a gentleman at the entrance who directed them to the reception.

After checking in and receive the keys, they picked up their luggage and followed the gentlemanto the elevator, who was showing them the way to their "apartment”. Y/n couldn’t believe what her eyes were seeing. Walking in, she’s faced with a very nice living room, with wooden walls and gray furniture. It had shelves with books, among other really cute stuff decorating the place. All very neutral and very light, exactly what she needed. On the coffee table was champagne and a plate with strawberries and chocolate with a small note saying "we hope you enjoy your stay as much as we enjoy your presence. Thanks for choosing us. Have fun" 

From the living room they went to the bedroom to organize their things. When they walked in Y/n was even more astonished. From their bed they had a view of the outside. She always loved snow and being there was filling her heart with so much happiness she wished she could live there forever.

“Where did you find this place and how can you afford it for both of us?!” Y/n exclaimed. Lisa looked at her with a funny look “My dad owns it. A benefit of traveling so much and not seeing his family for so long, not everything can be bad. I used to come here for Christmast and New year. It's crazy during those days and you know me, I love crazy and those were my favourite moments here”

Y/n laughed. Only Lisa could say something like that. 

“So… You know how to ski right?” Lisa asked out of nowhere. “Oh hell no Lisa, no way, not right now, we just got here we should—” Y/n argued back but was soon interrupted by Lisa 

“There's a snow suit in the closet on the right. We have a lot to discover we won't wait until tomorrow. You rest during the night. Come on princess, time is money” Y/n huffed while getting her suit to start putting it on.  How could Lisa have so much energy was something she couldn't understand.

They both got dressed and head out of the chalet. Y/n was amazed by the view, everything was perfect. But it’s not an adventure if something doesn't go right for Y/n. Out of nowhere she lost sight of Lisa, making her panick. She had no idea where she was.

Y/n looked around trying to see her friend but couldn’t identify anyone who would look like her. She started walking around worried about straying too far from where Lisa last saw her. Y/n was so distracted that she didn't even notice anyone coming close to her, ending up colliding with that person, causing her to lose balance and fall. The other person quickly knelt down, stretching out his hand to help her until she heard “Y/n?” 

She looked up, took the stranger's hand and straightened her hair a little, trying to understand where she recognized that voice from, until the stranger took the protective mask off his eyes and saw him.

“Taehyung?”  

Tags: @esposadomd @joonlover1207 @eegyo @furrywonderlandwolf @minghaosimp @differentrunawayperson @nikkinikj @jksusawife @11thenightwemet11 @jk97bam @11thenightwemet11 @cryingoverpixelsetc @bhonbhon @lostinneocity @almostpurplelady @meowforluv

[mickeym4ndy]

utterly wild to me that Mickey and Monica never met.

Cuz like, he'd prob be as indifferent towards her as he is to Frank.... until Ian is diagnosed and then Monica is just a big reminder of what could happen to Ian if he stops treatment etc. And her manic episodes would have such similar energy to Ian's that it would be so painful for him to watch...

Ooh yea Mickey and Monica is an interesting thought. I think she’d like him. Monica is in general really nice to people and isn’t outwardly cruel, and I feel like she’d be sooo excited to meet Ian’s boyfriend and just want to be his friend or something.

But yea I think Mickey would hate her tbh, if we’re thinking in a world where they met after s5 (bc I do think he’d be generally indifferent to her before that like u said). I think it would be more about her treatment of Ian than anything else though. Like I think Mickey would struggle with her because her episodes would be a reminder of Ian’s, but I don’t think he’d hate her for that. It would just worry him.

I think he’d hate her because of the shit she’s put Ian through. He’d hate her because he knows she’s the one that got Ian involved in dancing at the clubs underage, because she’s the one who left Ian and endangered him repeatedly, because she’s the one who gets Ian’s hopes up only to leave again, because she took Ian away from his family when he needed help, because she convinced Ian that he didn’t need help, because she was the one that caused Ian to push him away, because she had him living in a crack house and getting with older guys when he was underage and did nothing to stop it.

I think in an alternate reality where Monica had lived, Ian would always end up wanting to help her because how could he not? And Mickey would really struggle to understand it. He’d be like “look at what she put you through she doesn’t deserve u constantly doing this for her when she won’t help herself.” I think it’s easier for him in canon to understand Ian’s love for her since he never met her, but if he had, he’d probably struggle with Ian and Monica having a relationship because she caused Ian to leave him in the first place and she’s put him through hell. Which is interesting because Mickey has a loyalty to Terry that Ian can’t understand.

Ian really struggles to understand why on earth Mickey would have any loyalty to Terry, the father that abused him and made his life a living hell. But still, Mickey has a need for Terrys approval and a loyalty to Terry that he can’t explain. And Ian clearly does not understand it, yet he has such a love for Monica despite everything she put him through. (Obviously the situations were different, but they both have love for their abusive parent they can’t let go of). And (in this reality) Mickey struggles to understand Ian’s loyalty to Monica, even though he himself has a loyalty to Terry.

If Monica had lived, it would’ve been really interesting to see Mickey and Ian try to navigate all that. Ian hating that Mickey still has a relationship with Terry and that he does so much for him, while he himself still has a relationship with Monica. And also Mickey hating the fact that Ian does so much for Monica and has a loyalty to her, while he does so much for Terry and has a loyalty to him.

If u ask me, Terry’s death actually could’ve been a chance for them to explore this in canon. Would’ve given Ian’s coldness towards Mickey after Terry died more meaning and actually made it make sense. Like maybe he’s complaining to Debbie because he can’t understand why Mickey would miss Terry and Debbie says “well don’t you miss Monica?” and it could’ve gone from there.

Again I know Terry and Monica are very different. Monica’s abuse is more of a byproduct of her behaviour, while Terry actively chooses to abuse and terrorize his kids. But the way their children view them is similar, so it’s interesting.

thanks for sending this! apologies for the long answer lol