#stash capital

[laugtherhyena]

Playlist listened to while writing; https://spotify.link/WzxvdTKBCJb

Holy shit dude, the ceo of rei angst wrote some rei angst what the HELL!! We have to kill her guys she cant keep getting away with this.

Anyways im gonna be writing about a lot of these nerds. I just love rei. This is really rushed and I am really sleepy so it is not my best writing.

Also i cannot write teruya so you will habe to ppppUT UP WITH IT.

Warnings for like. Violence and my attempt at writing a breakdown.

-

Rei held the rusty pipe like a baseball bat, swinging for a homerun as she smacked off the head of someone she once knew. Someone who had abandoned her long ago.

The rotting head of what used to be her mother rolled on the ground, sickly green skin squishing against the ground and stared up at her with lifeless eyes.

“I didn’t want to see you again like this,” Rei hissed as her chest heaved, “i wanted to see you staring with regret as you saw your daughter on top of the world. I didn’t want to kill you or see you dead.”

That had been the second time she had run into her zombified mother. The first, she had been a coward, unable to kill her and her father– the two people she hated most, the two people who had abandoned her and left her on the streets.

Where had all her rage gone that time. When had she become soft.

-

Midori clung to Ryutaro with all the strength in her frail body. “My brother,” she whispered, “i saw my brother’s corpse down there. Kakeru… he… they got Kakeru… they killed Kakeu…”

He didn’t say much in return, but he did pat her hand briefly– the only comforting action he could manage while carrying her.

“I see a store up ahead. Let’s stop by there for supplies.” Keisuke pointed out to the leader of the bunch.

Setsuka patted the clown on the back and gave him a smile. “Sounds good, lead the way. Maki, do you need me to carry Yamaguchi for a bit?”

Midori wrapped her arms and legs around Ryutaro a bit tighter at the suggestion, very much attached to the guy who had found her and saved her from zombies.

“I’ll be fine until we reach the stop.” The blonde nodded his acknowledgement to the bluenette, forcing a smile as he struggled to catch up.

The group walked in silence for a bit, the only sounds being the orchestra of distant zombie groans.

“Miss Yamaguchi,” Hikaru said after bit, his tone fatherly like usual, “may I check your pulse soon? And may I check if the swelling on your ankles has gone down?”

“Yeah, that… sounds good. Thank you, Uncle.”

-

Kanata removed the bandages from Ayame’s arm gradually.

“There isn’t any sign of infection, Hatano. Kinjo and Maki are still out, so… uhm… can I get you something to eat?” The surgeon spoke softly as she stared at the sprinter.

“I’m not hungry…” Ayame mumbled.

“Inori!” Tomori slammed the door open, her eyes sunken from lack of sleep, “i think i got bit. Check! Check, please!!”

Kanata bit back a sigh of exasperation and forced out her cheerful smile. “Of course. Where do you think you were bit this time?”

“My ankle. They went after my ankle so I couldn’t run! They’re going to eat me. I’m going to die, aren’t I? Oh, god, I’m going to die!” The cheerleader’s words were jumbled together and practically nonsensical. She grabbed onto Kanata’s shoulders as she spoke, her nails digging into the other’s lab coat and pressing her skin uncomfortably.

“Miss Tomori,” Kanata winced, “please let go of me. I will check your ankle, but I am sure you are fine.”

“I’m not fine!” Kizuna wailed before glaring accusatory daggers at Ayame. “If you… if you hadn't gotten yourself bitten! If you had just seen that bitch for what she is! We wouldnt be doomed! You’ve doomed us all!”

Ayame took the words without fighting back. What had been the point in fighting anymore? Kizuna was right. She had doomed them all.

“Miss Tomori, please… Taira had us all fooled… if Miss Hatano is to blame, then so are the rest of us…” the blonde murmured. “Please sit down so I can check your ankle…”

-

Mindless. Kinji was mindless. His faith had only been able to spare him for so long.

His teeth were decayed now. His skin was green and purple and yellow. His eyes were dull. His cheeks were sunken.

It was incredible that his mind stayed intact long enough for him to bury as many as he did. The only bodies he didn’t put 6 feet under, the only bodies he couldn’t handle burying, were those of the people he knew.

But what was the point?

-

Yuki held his stomach as he choked up and spat out the last meal he had, beans that had barelt even begun to digest.

“Urgh… gross…” he mumbled to himself.

Shinji was away at the moment, scouting out for the next safe place for them to go and likely trying to find his family in the process.

The lucky student fought back envious tears. At least they knew there was a chance that Shinji’s family was alive– they found his mother, Aiko, brutally murdered in the Maeda household. Her corpse was bloated and rotted when they found it.

The sight still haunted his dreams. He couldn’t even keep.meals down since he saw it.

-

Mikako peered into her brother’s lab. He hadn’t eaten in quite some time, nor had he slept.

“Yamato…” she whispered hesitantly.

He spun around with a dart ready in his hand. He only lowered it after he registered it was her.

“Mikako, I’ve told you to leave me alone. I need to find a cure, or no one will be safe.” The inventor turned back to his work and threw a crumpled up piece of paper to the side.

“I’m sure someone else is searching for a cure, Yamato. Why not try to make a vaccine? Some sort of immunity would help while someone else finds a cure.” The exorcist suggested.

Her brother didn’t seem to have heard. That, or he was ignoring her.

“Ah… nevermind.” She straightened her back and spun on her heel to hunt down their other classmates.

For the newcomers, Satsuki was putting on a performance– juggling empty bottles and broken gadgets whilst telling jokes. That could not be safe, but Haruhiko seemed to have his eyes on her.

The bunker door heaved open, and Teruya’s team came in, carrying boxes full of food and other supplies.

“We’re back with dinner!” The merchant shouted.

Mikako rushed over to take the box from him.

“Thank you, Otori, this should be good for at least a week. You and your scavenger team did good.”

He grinned at her and handed his box over. “Thanks! We uh…” he hesitated, “We saw Taira and Maeda… err… Utsuro? On our flight back… they looked like they were heading somewhere… dunno where…”

She bit her tongue and nodded thankfully at him. “Thank you for telling me.”

-

Thats it. Im hungry good bye.

Aw yeah infection Au moment! I do remember you saying a while back that you wanted to write something about Rei in this Au and MAN her part has gotta be my favorite out of these little snippets.

I really like taking a look at how a bunch of the cast is doing, seeing the way you wrote them in those situations was pretty fun! It reminded me how much i like the idea of Setsuka's like group with the 6.5 cast and how Kanata probably wishes she has a degree in psychology to properly deal with Ayame and Kizuna (she may feel as if she's not doing enough for them seing as her kindness can only bring her so far when dealing with their turmoil)

[bibleofficial]

idk what my father thought the take-away would be by taking my brother & i downtown to look at homeless people every holiday and birthday growing up was. like all it’s turned into was ‘communism = good’ & 🤝 like 😭😭

[younes-ben-amara]

صفات وخصائص أصحاب الشركات الناشئة الملياريّة (اليونيكورن) 🦄

ما هذه المجموعة من المختارات تسألني؟ إنّها عددٌ من أعداد نشرة “صيد الشابكة” اِعر�� أكثر عن النشرة هنا: ما هي نشرة “صيد الشابكة” ما مصادرها، وما غرضها؛ وما معنى الشابكة أصلًا؟! 🎣🌐 🎣🌐 صيد الشابكة العدد #38 بالشراكة مع ميكو أفرغ بريدك الوارد! عيدكم سعيد وكلّ عام وأنتم بخير؛ 🚀💌 لنبدأ بسم الله بعدد جديد (العدد الثاني) من نشرة الأستاذ علي سعد الذي صَدَر بحمد الله بعنوان: 604 صفحات لا بد منها لكل…

[kc22invesmentsblog]

The Pitfalls of Stashing Money Under Your Mattress: Why Investments are Essential for Growing Wealth and Beating Inflation

Written by Delvin In an era of financial uncertainty, it’s natural to seek ways to protect and grow your hard-earned money. However, stashing cash under your mattress or relying solely on a savings account is not a prudent long-term strategy. To ensure your wealth keeps pace with inflation and experiences significant growth, it’s crucial to explore investment vehicles that can provide both…

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Batter Up!

Written for round 1 of the @steddiebingo

Prompt: Punk AU

Rated: T

Words: 2,222 [also on AO3]

Tags: Battle of the bands; Punk!Steve; Flirting; Sexual tension

The crowd is still roaring as they make their way off the stage, hundreds and hundreds of voices mingling with the rush of his own blood in Eddie’s ears. 

“And that concludes our semi-finals, people,” the host’s voice bellows through the venue. “The big finale of our battle of the bands will be fought tomorrow, between Corroded Coffin and Batter Up.” 

“Fuck yeah,” he hollers, taking a flying leap down the last two steps and landing piggyback on Jeff's shoulders. He yelps in surprise and tries to throw him off, but Eddie holds on one-handed, punching at the air with the other. “Excellent job, gentlemen. One more battle until victory and that sweet, sweet prize money. Will we kill it or will we kill it?” 

“We'll kill it,” Frank rumbles, grabbing him by the scruff of his battle vest and hoisting him clean in the air. “If you don't break our guitarist's back before tomorrow night, you hyperactive rodeo clown.” 

Eddie tackles him. Frank catches him in a headlock and proceeds to give him a noogie. By the time Eddie manages to elbow him in the kidneys and free himself, his hair is about twice its usual volume. 

“Not to piss on your parade,” Gareth says before they can lunge at each other again. “But we haven't won this thing yet. Have you heard Batter Up play? They're pretty damn good.” 

“I don't need to hear them play,” Eddie claims, trying to wiggle his fingers into the pocket of his skinny jeans to retrieve the hair tie he stashed there earlier. “There's no way in hell we're losing to that punk rock shit.” 

Gareth scowls. “All I'm saying is you could at least make an effort to get to know our competitors. Get an idea of what we'll be up against.”

“Oh, c'mon,” Jeff says, throwing an arm around his shoulder and giving Eddie and Frank a slow wink. “You're just jealous because their drummer is more popular with the ladies than you.” 

Gareth's face grows stony. 

“Harrington,” he spits. “That guy is such a fucking show-off. He isn't even that good, everyone is just obsessed with his stupid hair and the way he twirls his drumsticks like they're-” 

“Woah, Gare,” Eddie snickers, finally giving up his quest for the elusive hair tie. He must've lost it on stage. “Does someone have a crush?” 

Gareth punches him in the arm. “Fuck off, I don't. If you can't take this seriously-” 

“Eddie! Eddie, over here!”

A familiar, curly-haired, basecap-wearing face is bopping up and down in the crowd, just outside the barrier that separates the backstage area from the venue proper.

“If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen,” Eddie grins. “My fans await me.” 

*

“That was fantastic,” Dustin shouts over the din of the venue. His face is flushed and his hair is plastered to his forehead. He probably gave himself whiplash from all the headbanging he did earlier. “The other guys didn't stand a chance.”

“Yeah well, thanks for telling me what I already knew,” Eddie says, but he can’t help returning his wide, excited grin. 

“Seriously though,” Will says. He’s not as sweaty as Dustin, but his usual, unfortunate bowl cut is uncharacteristically disheveled. “You were really good. Even Steve said so, and he's hard to impress, usually.” 

Eddie just barely manages to suppress the incoming eye roll. Here they fucking go again. 

Steve. Steve who went to school with Will's older brother and Steve who has a car and drives the kids places and Steve who lets them use his pool in the summer. Steve who has Opinions on music now, apparently. Capital O. 

“Is he now?” is what he says. “If he thinks I'm so great, why doesn't he tell me himself?” 

Dustin waves him off impatiently. 

“I sent him to get us drinks. Wonder what's taking him so long. It's a hundred degrees in here, and-” 

“There you are,” bellows a voice, and then the crowd of bystanders scatters apart. It’s that or catch an elbow to the ribs. “I thought I told you little shitheads to wait for me over- … Oh, hey. You're the frontman of Corroded Coffin. Munson, right?” 

“Uh,” Eddie says, at the same time that the kids surge forward to rip the assorted sugary drinks from the newcomer's arms like a horde of starved animals, leaving him only with a single bottle of beer. “Yeah. Eddie. You can call me Eddie.” 

It may not sound very eloquent, he thinks, but at least it's not what his stupid, tiny lizard brain is trying to convince his mouth to blurt out, which is that this hottie could call him anything he wants. 

“Eddie?” The stranger arches one eyebrow - one perfectly shaped, aristocratic eyebrow sporting a single, silver barbell piercing - before he whirls on Dustin. “Wait a sec. This is Eddie? Eddie from the Dungeon club thingie? Eddie who likes metal? When were you planning on telling me this?” 

Dustin takes an unimpressed slurp from his can. 

“I did tell you. I said he'd also be here, remember?” 

Hottie huffs, running an annoyed hand through his hair. Even disheveled and damp from the heat of the location, it's still stupidly pretty. The electric-blue-dye-job sort of pretty. The sides of his head have been shaved, leaving the rest of it tumbling into his face in a messy mohawk that looks casual, but probably took forever to style.

Jesus. 

Eddie tucks nervously at his own sweaty curls, but the part of them that's not currently defying gravity is glued to his neck. 

“You said he'd be around,” Hottie is telling Dustin. “Not that he'd be competing. It didn't occur to you that I might wanna know so that I wouldn’t make a complete ass of myself?” 

A tendon on his neck twitches in annoyance. There's a tattoo right over it. A tiny bird perched in a thicket of roses, thorny vines and blood red blossoms disappearing into his ripped shirt. Eddie finds himself wondering how far down his shoulder and arm they continue. 

That train of thought comes to a screeching halt when Dustin groans and rolls his eyes. 

“Goddamnit, Steve, don't be so dramatic. You act like he's a fucking rock star instead of-” 

“Wait,” Eddie blurts. They both turn to face him with matching looks of confusion, and automatically, his hand starts tugging on his hair again. “Hold on a second. You're Steve? Steve with the swimming pool and the fancy German car and the villa in Loch Nora?” 

Dustin mumbles something unintelligible under his breath, which might or might not contain the words stupid dorks and listening skills and turns to talk to Mike instead. Steve sips on his beer and shrugs, a little defensive.

“Well, it's my dad's villa to be precise. And his pool. And also his car, if we're being honest. But yeah, I'm Steve. Is that a problem?” 

“Problem? What? Nah,” Eddie says. His hand migrates to his mouth. He needs to stuff a knuckle or three between his teeth to stop his frantic babbling, but his rings have become tangled in his curls. “You're cool, man. I mean, I dunno if you're cool, I literally just met you, except these little goblins here won't shut up about you, it's just …” 

He trails off with a helpless shrug. It ends up a little jerky because his hand is still stuck in his hair, so he pretends to be pulling it into a ponytail instead.

Steve watches him fiddle and smiles, a slow and amused thing. His lower lip is pierced as well. A simple silver ring that glints in the low light of the venue. Eddie does absolutely not want to sink his teeth into it and pull, because that would be crazy and inappropriate and also probably painful, so yeah, he’s not gonna do that. 

Unless Steve is into crazy and inappropriate and painful.

“It's just that you were expecting someone a little different?”

“A little different?” Eddie cackles, a bit surprised, a bit unhinged. “More like a lot different. Like … less tattoos and piercings and more polo shirts and knit sweaters.” 

Steve throws his head back and laughs. He has a nice laugh, Eddie thinks. Loud and deep and unashamed, and he doesn’t bother trying to hide it. Something glints in his mouth - something small and round and distinctly metallic, and, yup, tongue piercing. 

Eddie is in so much trouble. 

“Yeah, I moved away from those a while ago,” Steve says, gesturing offhandedly at the entirety of him. There’s a lot of ripped denim and leather involved. Also studs. “I like this look a lot better.”

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees dumbly. “Me too. I mean … absolutely. It’s a killer look.”

“You too, though,” Steve says. His eyes rake over Eddie’s own skin-tight jeans, the cut-off shirt he’s wearing under his battle vest. Linger on his exposed midriff for just a second too long to pass as casual. “You were incredible up there, you know that?” 

Which, rude, how dare he hit him with compliments like that out of nowhere?

“Um, thanks,” Eddie says. His hair is rapidly descending into bird’s nest status. He gives it a violent pull, and his trapped hand finally comes loose. So does about a fistful of sweaty curls. “Ouch, fuck me.” 

Steve’s smile goes a little sharper. 

“Allow me,” he says, and then he’s pressing his half-finished bottle of beer into Eddie’s hands so that he can pull something from his back pocket as he steps around him. Eddie is about to ask what the hell he’s trying to do, but then he feels a pair of large, nimble hands slip into his hair and human speech leaves him. 

“Metal isn’t really my kind of genre, y’know?” Steve says conversationally. His breath ghosts over the shell of Eddie’s flushed ears as he gathers his hair at the base of his neck. Then he twists. Eddie is very grateful for the noise of the venue for swallowing the pathetic little squeak that comes out of his mouth. “I gotta give it to you though, you’ve got talent. I’m looking forward to the finale tomorrow. Here we go, all done.”

He slaps Eddie’s ass, all jovially, like a final sign-off on a job well done. This time, the ensuing noise isn’t quite low enough to be drowned out by the crowd. Eddie stumbles forward a step and whirls, mouth aghast, but Steve just grins and snatches the beer bottle from his hands again. 

“I’ll need that back,” he says around a swig, gesturing offhandedly at Eddie’s head. Eddie’s hand flies to his hair to find it wrapped into a neat, twisted updo, secured with something long and thin and distinctly wooden. A drumstick? “You can return it before the gig tomorrow.” 

“Yeah,” Eddie says dumbly. “Sure. I, um … I should go back to my band.” 

The kids are already lost in their usual squabbles again, so they don't pay him any mind as he starts weaving his way back towards the backstage area, but he can feel Steve's eyes burning into the back of his very exposed neck. 

And speaking of burning eyes … Gareth is glaring at him like he's trying to reduce him to a crisp, Eddie-shaped piece of charcoal with the power of his mind, and Frank and Jeff don't look too happy either.

“Careful there,” Gareth hisses the moment Eddie is close enough to hear him. “Or you might slip.”

Eddie blinks at him. “Come again?”

“On your own slime trail,” Gareth says. “Y’know, the one you left from creaming your pants just now.”

Eddie barks a surprised laugh.

“Ew, Gare, gross,” he says, “But also funny, I gotta give you that.” 

He reaches out a hand to slap Gareth’s shoulder good-naturedly. Gareth doesn’t laugh. Instead, he punches him. Again. And this time, he means it. 

“Ow, you little shithead,” Eddie yelps. “What the hell was that for?”

“You utter fucking asshole,” Gareth growls, struggling against Frank’s hold as he pulls him back. “I have a crush on Harrington? Well, isn’t that hilarious? You were two seconds away from jumping his bones just now.”

“Wait, what?” Eddie blurts. “Harrington? I have no idea what you’re talking about, that was just Steve. He’s with the kids, and-”

Gareth groans. “Oh my God, can you try and not think with your dick for two seconds here? You think Harrington is his first name or what?” 

Realization trickles in slowly, but it does. 

“What the hell?” Eddie mutters. “You don't mean-” 

He turns. Dustin is pulling on Steve's arm, yelling at him about something Eddie doesn't catch over the distance, but Steve is paying him no mind. Their eyes meet. 

Steve raises a hand and wiggles his fingers. His mouth forms three words, soundless and so slow that Eddie can read them off his lips. 

See you tomorrow. 

Eddie stands corrected. He's not in trouble.

Trouble is way too tame a word for what he's in. 

“C’mon,” he mutters, forcibly prying his eyes off Steve and his stupidly handsome, stupidly smug face. “Let's go. We have a finale to win tomorrow.” 

“That's what I've been saying,” Gareth grumbles as he trails after him. “Glad you're finally starting to take this- … Is that his fucking drumstick in your hair?” 

Eddie has a feeling he may not survive the next twenty-four hours. 

Meanwhile:

Dustin: What the hell? Were you flirting with Eddie just now?

Steve: I was upping my chances, actually. But yeah, let's call it flirting.

More Steddie Bingo

[43501]

Opened my copy of Another Note: The Los Angeles BB Murder Cases for the first time in a decade and man, I forgot this is a goldmine of info and Mello characterization. It lets us know what kind of person Mello is almost more than the source material. Every time he's on panel/screen he's always so intense, it's fascinating to see him write and kind of get this feeling of "oh, he is also a normal guy outside of those situations".

He says he had one extensive in-person meeting with L, which is backed up by this other post of mine where I point out that, in the anime at least, Mello references having spoken to L personally. If we take it as canon it means L and Mello met at some point between Kira emerging and L leaving England for Japan.

He expresses a strong sense he might die. I've seen people say that he's "narrating from beyond (heh) the grave" and it's nonsensical, but that's not what's happening here. He's just writing while anticipating his death and writing as if these notes may be discovered posthumously.

He thinks that, in the event he dies, Near is the one who will discover his writings. This is interesting to me because it suggests Mello either knows Near knows his whereabouts, or would figure it out and recover his belongings. I actually think this is outright supported by canon - we see Near eating Mello's chocolate in the manga's epilogue. I don't think he instructed his staff to go out and buy that same chocolate, I think that's straight up Mello's stash.

At some point he started identifying less with the "Mello" alias and calling himself Mihael.

He's so sentimental... ending the prologue simply with "Good memories and nightmares". Bro.

"Imagine you were going to kill someone. What do you think would be the most difficult part? .... The correct answer: killing someone." Damn, I love you Mello lol. Also fascinating when you remember that he achieved his status in the mafia by beheading someone. Yes, he would know how hard it is to kill a person.

Mello states that he and Near belong to the "fourth generation" of Wammy's House kids.

He expresses open sympathy for Beyond and his state, twice... based on his own narration and how he portrays B in the course of the story, he definitely relates to B's emotions.

"Perhaps these gods actually wanted a blood soaked world of betrayal and false accusation. Perhaps the entire episode exists as a lesson to teach us the difference between the Almighty and the shinigami." I can't entirely make sense of this, and I don't want to get ahead of myself, but is "Almighty" capitalized here to definitely refer to the divine? Like, the Christian God but in a bit of a sidestepped, roundabout way? Wish I could see the original Japanese text for this line. If anyone has essays/posts about it, please show me.

And on a meta-textual level, the ambiguity of our role/perspective as the reader of these notes is also interesting. We're probably just an omniscient, unmoored observer being told about this set of notes Mello wrote and his line to the effect of "if it happens to turn into [a book]" is tongue-in-cheek. I know there's a slight, hanging implication that Near did in fact publish his notes, but I think that's unlikely since they contain so much sensitive/classified information.

[lieslab]

What if the world comes to an end before I make it?

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Minho X gn reader

Summary: When you start to complain about life, your boyfriend states the obvious.

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: I hate capitalism. I'm in my thought daughter era. I ate an entire grapefruit for the first time in my entire life and it was life changing, I think.

_ _ _

“What is it this time?” 

“It’s impressive that you know something’s on my mind, even when I don’t say it out loud.” 

“Of course, I know. I love you and I’m dating you, aren’t I? That means figuring out how you tick. What makes the blood quicken through your heart and what makes you cry. That means getting to know you entirely, even the parts you wish I didn’t notice.” 

Beside you, Minho laid beneath the blankets with an under eye mask beneath his eyes. A habit that he picked up from you, lately . Right before bed, the two of you laid beneath the blankets and grew sleepy together. 

Side-by-side, an emptiness sat between you, but it wasn’t bad. You both liked your space. Love nestled quietly between the two of you, like a child slipping into the bed between their parents to stop the nightmares. The most beautiful thing about Minho, love didn’t have to be verbal. It sat behind actions and painted itself in the reminder notes he stashed around the house for you to find. 

‘Don’t forget, I made your lunch and put it in the fridge.’ 

‘You were having a bad day, so your favorite ice cream is on the top shelf of the freezer.’

‘You’ve been raving about the latest book coming out, don’t pre-order it, I already did it for you. It’ll be here, just in time for your birthday. Special edition, signed by the author, don’t forget to say thank you when you see me again.’

‘Soonie, Doongie, and Dori want you to know that they’re hoping you have a good day.’ 

Beneath the cotton sheet, your bare legs took comfort in the coolness. Damp from the shower, getting right into bed, nothing could beat the feeling of being squeaking clean. A hydrating lotion soaked your skin and smelled like cocoa butter. 

“There’s a quote by Sylvia Plath that goes ‘I can never read all the books I want; I can never be all the people I want and live all the lives I want. I can never train myself in all the skills I want.’ There’s more to the quote, but that’s the gist of it.” 

Minho hummed, not opening up his eyes. “Sounds like a very true quote.” 

“It drives me mad. I see all these lives, all these people, all these things and I want them all. I want to take care of nature’s wild animals. I want to work in a greenhouse and spend my days watering plants. I want to spend time behind a counter, making customized coffees for people, and befriending the regulars.” 

“Isn’t it just unfair?” You continued. “You finish school when you’re roughly an adult and you’re told to pick something, without really knowing about everything out there. Pick something. Get a higher education and specialize in something. Do that one thing for the rest of your life and then die, basically.” 

“But that’s such a waste!” Your eyes narrowed at the ceiling. The rage simmered in your blood again. “And why have we normalized that? What if I want to be a plumber and learn that trade? What if I want to get my hands dirty with cars? Learn about every engine, know the difference between oils, become so familiar with the frames that I can identify a car by looking at it.” 

“And Sylvia Plath has another quote where she discusses the analogy of life to fig trees. Each idea, each career, each potential is a fig and she just keeps waiting and waiting, trying to figure out which one to pick. In the process, the figs rot away and hit the ground. The ideas rot and grow further and further away. Living so many lives, taking so many routes, it’s just not possible because society says that it’s not okay.” 

“Sounds like you’re very passionate about Sylvia Plath.” 

“I’m annoyed because she’s right, you know. We’re told to pick one thing in our life that defines us and do it forever. Keep holding onto that burden, no matter if it burns out and bores you, because generations before agreed that it was a good idea.” 

Minho’s eyes opened and he blinked a few times. Soft yellow light filled the room and highlighted the two of you. You scowled, glaring at the ceiling, as if it hurt your feelings, instead of your own brain. 

“Well, maybe you’re right. Maybe you can’t live out every dream, but nobody is stopping you from trying to do it all. The only one standing before you and stopping you from making drastic life choices and decisions is you.” 

“Huh?” Your head jerked over and one of the golden collagen eye masks slipped onto the sheet. “What are you talking about? What do you mean?” 

“I mean I’m a k-pop idol, but I love boxing. I like watching anime. I like learning Japanese. Just because my life is a steady stream of work, I find things that I’m passionate about and pursue them because I deserve that. Nobody can tell me otherwise.” 

“Yeah and I don’t even know how you find the time for all that.” 

“It’s called self-discipline, less screen time, and productive days. You might not be able to conquer every single dream, but nobody is stopping you from picking up hobbies and trying.” 

You jerked yourself upright in the bed. Side eyeing him, you huffed. Your lips stuck out in a pout and he chuckled. “Be mad all you want, but you know I’m right.” 

“I know, but I worry about burning myself out.” 

“Do you or are you comfortable with where you are now? When you grow comfortable in different spaces, you learn to stay in them. Sometimes it’s because you don’t want to deal with anxiety or upsetting people. Maybe you’re afraid of failing and maybe you're afraid of success because once you succeed, you have to figure out what comes next.” 

“When the fuck did you get a degree in smartassery?” 

“When I took my time watching animations with characters full of charisma and quick wit. You should try it sometime and get off your social media. Are you really going to spend years of your life scrolling instead of trying to conquer your dreams?” 

Your mouth opened and then shut. He waited for your response, but it never came. You didn’t have one and not only that, you felt stunned. Everything he said made sense. It was all so obvious and yet, you’d never put anything into actions and words. 

Every desire, just scattered thoughts in your head. You never considered actually acting upon anything. Just like the fig tree, your dreams and hopes for different lives, they were withering and rotting. The worms of doubt nibbled inside the figs and consumed them over a span of months that would eventually, roll into years. 

“It really is that simple, isn’t it?” 

“Basically. Take it slow. Start with one or two things. The internet is at your fingertips, use it. Watch YouTube videos. Ask someone to teach you how to fix up old cars. There are hundreds of people that carry knowledge in the world, just ask them.” 

“You want a cafe job? Grab a part time job, even if it’s just a day or two per week. Want to take care of animals? Volunteer at the animal shelter. You can do so many things, you just have to find the courage and the grit to do them.” 

You shoved the blankets off you, tossing them all at Minho. “Have I ever mentioned that you’re a genius? A real life genius. I love you so much, please never die.” 

He raised an eyebrow. You ripped off the eye masks, walked over, and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. He attempted to grab your wrist, but you moved. “Where are you going?” 

“I’ve gotta go make a list of all the things I want to do! I want to live! To feel! To experience! I wanna do it all!” 

“It’s nearly midnight!” He called after you. 

“I gotta go plan before the rest of my figs rot!” 

The last glimpse he caught of you, you were practically giddy with delight, excitedly rushing out of the room; probably going to plan world domination. 

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[cryptidghostgirl]

so sorry for this (very) specific request hope it's not ocish

anyways alastor x wife reader who's a virologist / kinda a mad scientist??(girl just wants to start a apocalypse without anyone to bother her)

Like they got married for mutual benefits (whatever benefits he would gain and her having access to money for her wildest dreams) when they were humans (whether he actually loves her or not is up to you lmao)

They both die (I assume that she would die around when he died from her own negligence caused by her 'freedom' to do her work more often without actually worrying about him finding out) and she avoids him like the plague (not that hard to realize this so called radio demon is your 'husband' when you find his secret stash of 'local cuisine' in the fridge)

Then he goes missing and she finally kinda goes out of makeshift hiding, just chilling doing her evil deeds before finding about the Hazbin Hotel from some gossip

Deciding that, while redemption is most likely not gonna happen mostly for the fact she does not care, she joins Charlie's little program. For her own little project (just wants to have a angel test subject, gotta see if they can be a good carrier for her little virus)

The reader doesn't know that Alastor's back (you think she's gonna use vox tech? Or listen to the radio? Girl uses a non vox tech phone and maybe a computer and does her work) so she goes and knocks on the door to the hotel

Thinking that this shit is gonna be easy, after all her husband is gone so she won't be bothered by him. She can focus on her beautiful creations and maybe destory hell and heaven with a apocalypse for some laughs. While also getting access to heaven through Charlie somehow (maybe even Lucifer, girl doesn't know nor care)

Anyways you can just IMAGINE her surprise that right after Charlie greets her (Vaggie ofc suspicious af cause she knows damn well no sinner wants to be redeemed for the most part) then here comes the strawberry pimp coming to say hello

Would he recognize his lovely wife? Maybe

Ofc reader had a plan, and by plan I mean she just says they were married and now acts like their divorced (death do us part and we fuckin dead)

(Just for example, do what you want <3)

Anyways I'm sorry again (can you tell that I've been watching a lot of mlp infection aus :') )

A/N bestie,, i love an overly detailed request. no apologies. i hope i did it justice <3 <3 I have literally been obsessing over the whole 'we're dead. we've been parted.' reader idea. It's so fun. Also I am very sorry it took me so long to get to this. Also, I am not a woman nor am I in STEM (I'm an enby in history) so apologies if science stuff in this is bad. I'm basing the character off of Entrapta (my love) from Nate Stevenson's She-Ra remake.

Till Death Do Us Part (Alastor x Mad Scientist!Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: Gore. Murder. Bodies. Animal cruelty (not detailed at all just like test subjects and burning ants as a kid). Viruses/plague talk. Just capital d Death all around in this one folks. Suicide and starvation briefly mentioned.

Word Count: 2,584

Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List

Y/n hadn't been sad when Alastor died. It didn't really even register on her radar that he was gone until the police showed up at her door. Their marriage was more of an agreement than anything else, a division of labor. Y/n was a talented virologist who came from a rather wealthy family. He got access to her money, using it to start his own radio studio, and Y/n? Well Y/n got a clean up crew.

She had always been fascinated by death. It was a morbid curiosity that had followed her since childhood. The typical 'burning ants with a magnifying glass to mass murderer' pipeline only, murder was not exactly her objective. Since learning of the Black Death in school, she had been fascinated by biological warfare and weaponry. The stories of soldiers throwing infected bodies over the walls of city's to break down their defenses? It was magnificent, masterful, absolutely awe inspiring. Living through the Spanish Flu epidemic in 1918, watching how it tore through her city of New Orleans, only furthered her determination.

As soon as she had had the knowledge base to do so, she began working on bio-weapons on her own. She wanted to create a disease, to devastate the world. She wanted to watch the things around her crumble into ruin and know it was by her hand.

She'd found out about Alastor's hobby by accident. They were friends, of a sort, in that Y/n would show up randomly where ever he was and quiz him about radio waves. He worked at a radio station and she knew that. She had followed him, tracked him down. There was no reasoning behind it save he was the first person she'd really found out about that was involved in the business in New Orleans. She would pick his mind about getting the word out about things, marketing, advertising. She was prepping for the main event, for the day she finally created her magnum opus.

One day, when she had shown up unannounced at his door and broken in when he didn't respond to her knocking, Y/n had discovered him dismembering one of his victims. Alastor had stared at her, wide eyed in shock, fear and adrenaline mixing into an intoxicating combination in his veins. Y/n had just smiled.

She had been wondering about human experimentation for a while now. Animals were easy to cover up, easy to bury in the back yard but people? It had always been too risky, up until now anyways.

So it went like this: Y/n funded Alastor's dreams and he hid the side effects of hers. When he died, Y/n didn't really feel anything too strongly about it at all. Yes, it made life harder in that if she wanted to keep using human guinea pigs she'd have to figure out a way to dispose of them on her own but it also made it easier. Alastor had always been so obsessed with image, dragging her to office parties and forcing her to sit down to meals with him. Now that he was gone, she could work on her projects in peace once again. The body thing was something she would figure out along the way. She was smart and she wasn't going to let something like that stop her, not when she was this close to cracking it.

As it turns out, Alastor had been more of a help than Y/n believed. So used to his nattering and persistence, she had stopped eating. It wasn't long before she joined her husband in death. The papers of course had a field day with it. Heiress and Virologist Y/n L/n Withers Away Due to Heartbreak. Y/n L/n Starved Herself to Death and Joins her Murderer of a Husband. Virologist Commits Suicide After Revelation of Dead Husband's Criminal Deeds.

When Y/n had woken up in Hell, her whole world had been turned upside down. If there was life after death, what was the point of killing everyone on earth? She was back at square one.

Rumors were already buzzing through the streets of Hell about some new overlord, some Radio Demon, who had a strikingly similar MO to her husband. Not wanting any distractions this time around, Y/n secluded herself in the outskirts of the pride ring to reformulate her plans.

For decades she worked, trying to create a poison to wipe out the dual planes of the underworld. Work was easier here. No one questioned why she bought the things she bought, no one got upset when people went missing. Hell, no one even blinked twice if they saw her burying a body. It was a veritable paradise for Y/n.

Eventually, news reached her of the Radio Demon's disappearance. Y/n had never been the biggest fan of technology that wasn't involved in her work. In the world of the living, she had barley read the papers. All the machines in her laboratory were ones she had built herself through trial and error. But still, somehow, the news reached her and she felt elated. The last thing weighing her down, the last road block had officially been lifted.

Within seven years, she had perfected the disease. Having run tests on lower rings of Hell, she prided herself on her ability to make it so infections, so deadly. The survival was on par with that of unvaccinated human's infected by rabies. But her plan wasn't complete, no. Taking out everyone in Hell wasn't good enough, she had to figure out how to get it into Heaven as well.

That was when the perfect opportunity fell in her lap. Y/n nearly cried when she caught sight of the interview through the window of a shop selling Vox branded TVs. Charlie Morningstar, Lucifer's little brat, was creating a hotel for sinners, where they could be rehabilitated and sent to Heaven. It was perfect, almost too perfect. Y/n didn't question it, her own excitement blinding her. She barley even took the time to come up with a plan that consisted of more than get into the hotel and get her hands on an angel. She figured that was something that could be dealt with later on.

After a few days of research and snooping, she finally made her move. Having packed her bags and woven her way through the streets of Pentagram City, she found herself before the brightly lit marquee of the Hazbin Hotel. Placing her bag on the ground beside her, the test tubes and various paraphernalia inside clinked gently against one another. Raising her hand, she knocked on the door.

It was Charlie herself who answered, with wide eyes and an earnest smile. A smaller moth demon beside her crossed her arms, eyeing Y/n with doubt. It barley registered with the excitable demon, she was used to the strange looks. The new form Hell had granted her with when she died was odd, after all. She was still the same height, still held a roughly human shape, but her hair had become its own beast. It moved like secondary limbs, falling nearly to the floor from the pigtails she had tied it up into. It shot up into the air around her in joy at the sight of yet another open door in her path, this one literal rather than figurative.

"Hello!" Charlie exclaimed, "Are you here to check in?"

"Yes, check in." Y/n nodded, using her hair to pick her bag back up.

She took a step forward, trying to enter the hotel, but found her path blocked by the smaller grey demon. Her arms were uncrossed now, one of them pointing a spear right at Y/n's neck. Y/n didn't flinch, she simply looked down at it in curiosity, reaching a finger up to touch the end.

"Ow." she said flatly as the spear's tip pressed into the pad of her finger.

Raising it to her eyes, she rubbed the droplet of blood that had pooled on her pointer finger with her thumb before turning back to the spear.

"Is this..." Y/n leaned forward, grabbing the spear's shaft.

"Hey!" Vaggie yelled threateningly as Y/n crouched down, examining the weapon carefully.

"Oh my stars, this is an angelic blade, isn't it?" she exclaimed, her eyes still fixed on the spear.

"Uh..."

Vaggie was more confused now than anything and she took the slightest step away from the excited demon. Y/n followed her and soon, they were in the entry way to the hotel. Charlie watched the scene play out with mild amusement, finding her girlfriends bewildered state rather charming. She let the door fall shut.

"It is, isn't it?" Y/n asked again, "But how did you get it? Did you make it? What do you do with it? Is it more effective than normal weapons? Why a spear? I-"

"What's this, we have a new guest?" a crackling voice cut Y/n off.

"Uh, yes!" Charlie stepped in, turning to face the newcomer.

Y/n, still preoccupied with the spear, was now engaged in trying to get Vaggie to let her hold it.

"I think..." Charlie doubtfully added, her brow furrowing at the site.

"Well well well, a little devil." Alastor hummed, turning to watch the show as well, "Honestly, reminds me of someone I knew back when I was alive and kicking. Ah well, what's her name?"

"I don't... actually know that yet." Charlie admitted, fiddling with her hands a bit as she spoke, "But she seems really enthusiastic about being here!"

"It seems she more interested in that spear of Vaggie's than the idea of redemption." Alastor noted in response.

"Are either of you going to help me or are you just gonna sit and watch?" Vaggie exclaimed, trying her best to pry the spear out of Y/n's grip.

Alastor sighed and with a twirl of his microphone, a shadow arose, pulling Y/n off Vaggie. There was a split second where the smile on the girl's face fell. It quickly returned as she caught sight of what exactly had interrupted her escapades. Placing her bag on the floor with her hair, she wormed around in the shadow's arms, turning to face it. Tentatively, she poked it.

"Would you stop that?" Alastor asked, his voice thick with irritation.

Y/n poked the shadow again.

"What is this? How are you doing this?"

When no response came from the demon in question, she at last turned to face him.

"Oh."

She stilled in her movements and Alastor allowed the shadow to disappear.

"No reason to be scared." Charlie quickly stepped in, "I know Alastor here has a bit of a... reputation, but he is actually helping us at the hotel. He's really a great once you get to know him."

Alastor's smile widened as he bowed his head slightly in recognition of the praise.

"If you're going to be staying her-"

"You can't seriously be thinking of letting her stay here, Charlie." Vaggie cut in, "She's been here what, five minutes? And all thats come of it is chaos."

"Vaggie, come on, don't be like that." Charlie turned to her girlfriend, "Everyone deserves a second chance, that's the whole reason we built this place."

"But does she even want to be redeemed? I mean, what if she's... I don't know, trying to take us down from the inside out? What if she's a journalist or some shit trying to write us bad reviews?"

"You flatter me." Y/n smiled and Vaggie scoffed.

"See?"

"Isn't that all the more reason to let her in? Vaggie, if she is undercover as a journalist or something, we just have to prove to her how amazing what we're doing here is."

"I don't know... I've never seen her before, what if she's another one Vox sent?"

Y/n shook her head, sticking her tongue out slightly in disgust at this notion and Alastor chuckled. There really was something so familiar about this demon and her antics. Even if she was a tad irritating, it was a comfortable familiarity.

"Then we will figure it out, same way we did with Sir. Pentious. Okay?"

"Fine." Vaggie relented at last with a sigh.

Smiling brightly, Charlie turned back to Y/n.

"So, hi. I'm Charlie, welcome to the Hazbin Hotel! What's your name?"

Y/n's eyes flicked back and forth between Alastor and Charlie for a moment before settling on Charlie.

"Y/n L/n."

Alastor let out a little laugh of disbelief, a sound he had meant to keep in. He couldn't help it. Of course this little mess of a demon was his favorite crazy wife. Alastor had looked for Y/n on occasion, always keeping an eye on news involving anything scientific but, he had never found a trace. Not that he'd admit it but, in their time together, he had grown rather fond of the girl. Not love, never love, but a sort of familial feel. Everyone turned to face him.

"Are you alright, Alastor?" Charlie asked, walking over to him and placing a hand on his arm which he quickly brushed off.

"Yeah, do you know her or something?" Vaggie added, "Is she dangerous?"

"No..." he paused, his brow slightly furrowed, "She's my wife."

The room fell silent.

"You... you didn't recognize your own wife?" Vaggie asked in disbeleif.

"Ex-wife." Y/n corrected with a little sigh.

This was all becoming so tedious. She hadn't come here to sit and talk with people. While the spear and the shadow had been fun, they had both run their courses and she just wanted to get to work.

"I..." Alastor turned back to Y/n, "Ex-wife?"

Y/n shrugged.

"So you didn't recognize your wife and you didn't know you were divorced?" Vaggie asked, rubbing her temples, "Jesus fuck, man."

"I..." Alastor cleared his throat, "We were married when we were alive. I didn't even know she was dead yet."

"Yeah." Y/n shrugged, "Turns out all your nattering was what was keeping me alive. I forgot to eat, starved to death."

Alastor's eyes softened slightly for a moment at the notion. She had needed his care so badly that she had died with out it. It felt good, in a strange way. Satisfying. They darkened again as he recalled her earlier statement.

"Ex-wife?" he asked again, taking a step towards Y/n.

She looked up at him, her expression blank.

"Yeah?"

"When did we get a divorce!" Alastor exclaimed once he realized she would say nothing else on the matter without his prompting.

"Oh! We didn't." Y/n nodded, smiling slightly, "Now, can I go to my room?"

"No, Y/n. Why are you calling yourself my ex-wife? We are still married."

Y/n looked around at Charlie and Vaggie, seeing if they were going to back up her claim. Sighing, she turned back to Alastor.

"Do I really have to lay it out for you?" she paused and Alastor just stared at her, eyebrows raised, "Jesus. Uh, Al, we died."

"Yes...?"

"Till death do us part? That was the agreement."

"I... Well..." he was at a complete and total loss for how to respond.

She wasn't wrong, he just didn't like her answer very much.

"So... the agreement is done... yeah?"

"I mean," Alastor shook his head slightly, "I guess?"

"Great! Can someone please show me to my room now."

---

Next Part -> Till Death Do Us Part pt. 2

[estrellami-1]

If I Should Stay

Y’all are the best. Seriously. I love y’all. One quick note: if y’all reblog, please include the tag “#if I should stay” (mind the capital i) so people can find the rest of the parts! Thanks so much!!! ❤️

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Eddie does end up following Robin because he does not, in fact, have a death wish.

Even if, apparently, he dies in the future. Go figure.

She instructs him to grab his guitar. “Why in the fuck,” he starts, then reconsiders when Robin whips around to stare at him. “Anyone ever tell you you’re terrifying?”

Robin shrugs a shoulder. “Not as much as they should.”

She stashes her bike in the back of his van and directs him to the Harrington residence, where Steve’s waiting, arms crossed, wondering smile on his face. “Miracle worker,” he calls, and Robin laughs as she grabs her bike from the back.

“Hate to break it to ya, Dingus, but you’re just not scary.”

“I’m plenty scary. I’ve got a nail bat.”

“Right, because that would beat Nance’s sawed-off in a fight.”

“Hey, it could! You never know! They’ve got different ranges!”

Robin rolls her eyes at Eddie, like she’s asking if he can believe it, which. No. No he can’t.

“Sorry,” he says, regretting everything when they both look at him. “What the actual fuck is happening?”

“Come inside,” Steve says, suddenly all business. “We’ve got a lot to discuss.” His eyes find Robin’s. “One of ‘em took Barb last night.”

“Fuck,” Robin whispers.

“Yup. Will’s been missing for two days. Maybe, if we get down there soon enough…”

“Let’s hope so. Which one of the rugrats found El?”

“I think they all did? But Mike’s the one who took her in.” He shakes his head, mouth a grim line. “I saw Dustin today. They’re kids, Robs.”

“So are we,” she reminds him, heaving a tired-sounding sigh. “A buncha kids fighting real-life monsters.”

“Monsters?” Eddie parrots.

Somehow they end up inside while Steve goes to pick up the Party. Who the party is, Eddie doesn’t know. Just like he doesn’t know why he’s in Steve’s Harrington’s house with someone who isn’t Steve Harrington.

“Who’s the Party?” He asks Robin. “And why am I here again? If I die, doesn’t that mean I shouldn’t be here? Should be somewhere far, far away instead?”

“The Party’s a group of kids Steve babysits. They’re the first ones to go through this whole mess. And admittedly, you’re here partially because you can help, and partially for selfish reasons.” She offers him a lopsided grin. “Believe it or not, watching you die was kinda traumatic.”

“Right,” he says slowly. “And you and Steve? How do you know each other? He and Nancy Wheeler are the talk of the town, and if he’s stepping out-”

“He wouldn’t,” she says harshly. “Ever.” She takes a breath. “Two years from now, or a year ago, he and I work together in a mall. Long story short, we get captured and tortured by Russians. High on truth serum, I tell him I’m a lesbian in the bathroom, we help take down the big bad, and boom. Instant platonic soulmates.”

Eddie gapes at her. “What the fuck.”

“Just about,” she nods. “Oh, and the kids love D&D, so you’ll have plenty to talk about. They’re little shits but they’re also kinda great once you get to know them.”

Eddie stares at her. The front door opens, and Steve walks in, followed by a gaggle of preteens and Nancy Wheeler.

“Robs,” Steve says, not slowing his stride as he begins taking the stairs two at a time. “Bathroom. Now.”

Robin grimaces. “Breakdown time,” she murmurs to Eddie, then follows Steve, leaving everyone else staring at each other.

“So,” Eddie says. “I heard you like D&D?”

A dark-haired kid who looks suspiciously like Nancy narrows his eyes. “You play?”

“Play!” Eddie repeats. “I don’t just play, my young friend, I am the greatest Dungeon Master this side of the Mississippi.”

A curly-haired kid begins to grin. “I think we should put that to the test.”

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[elhnrt]

in honor of easter here is my 70k word singular ever founders genfic condensed into a simple and palatable listicle, the concept is "tobirama lays eggs"

chapter 1: hashirama and madara find a stash of oddly sized eggs in a random storage closet in the tower. they have a mystery on their hands!

chapter 2: izuna finds one egg on tobirama's desk and, being a little stinker, boils and eats it for lunch. he gets salmonella (for the rest of the fic he is bedridden and will not be present)

chapter 3: filler chapter where hashirama and madara just talk about their theories

chapter 4: they decide to ask tobirama about it. he responds strangely, as he's apt to do, so hashirama and madara decide to leave it alone and go poke at stuff in the river

chapter 5: another egg appears! they take it to tobirama to go do weird things to it in his lab, which he does, and comes out five minutes later covered in yolk and is like "sorry, i fucked it up. badly"

chapter 6: madara mulls this over and izuna, bemoaning his fate, goes "obviously he did it on purpose!" and madara is like "you may be right..."

chapter 7: hashirama and madara confront tobirama, asking him why he exploded the egg. he locks them both out of his lab so they have a nice lunch instead

chapter 8: getting nowhere with tobirama, the two make a trip to the capital to go look at the court library to see any records and they wind up being hosted by the daimyo's court. a courtesan comes to visit madara and he goes, "you're a woman, what happens when you lay eggs?" and she's so offended she stomps out and leaves so hashirama and madara have a sleepover

chapter 9: they return empty-handed but return to... an egg! in hashirama's office! they confront tobirama again who finally throws up his hands and confesses, "this has gone on long enough - first you make me conduct a completely unnecessary experiment on these eggs now i find out you ventured to the capital to figure out all this i PRESUME but come back with an empty wallet--" which makes hashirama droop like a sad little flower, "--so before you both act any more abnormal, it was me. i laid the eggs."

"why?" madara asks.

"what the hell do you mean 'why'," tobirama rolls his eyes and crosses his arms like a bitchy sniffing ass hole, "i don't know why. it just happens, and has since i was a boy."

"you don't know why?" hashirama tilts his head and creases his eyebrows with a mixture of concern and morbid curiosity.

"no, i don't, nor do i really care to look into my ovipository habits that cause me no ills, at least until you two decided to be annoying about it. now if you'll excuse me, i have non-descript documents to file and another egg to lay." and he leaves, leaving hashirama and madara to stand there in stunned silence. they both shrug at each other.

"guess he just lays eggs," madara suggests.

"that's so boring..." hashirama sighs, bemused. "but we had fun, didn't we!"

"let's go throw rocks and hit them with sticks"

"we should! :D" and they have a nice day and learn to accept the eggs as just another weird thing tobirama does.

chapter 10: izuna dies from shitting.

~~~OWARI~~~~

[katyaromanoffpetrova]

A deceitful Valentine's

It's Valentine's Day and Natasha is on a mission. Katya won't let the day pass by without seeing her.

• Natasha Romanoff x Fem!OC (Katya Petrova) • Wordcount: 1.9k • Warnings: sexual talk (they're horny lesbians) •A/N: not proofread because it's 1AM and i'm tired :) Masterlist

Do not repost my work as your own or translate my work!!

''No, I'm not helping you so you can fuck each other's brains out in a hotel room. Or whatever it is that you lesbians do.''

''Wow,'' Katya breathed, an amused smile lingering on her lips as she watched her appalled friend shake his head. ''I thought you were a romantic.''

''Me?'' Clint scoffed, shuffling through the papers on his messy desk. He hadn't been able to look at her since she asked her question, a red tint on his cheeks. Obviously, it made him uncomfortable. Katya loved making men uncomfortable. ''Valentine's Day is a ridiculous product of capitalism, created to make us spend more money on things we don't need.''

Katya hummed knowingly, placing her hands on his desk. ''Is that why you bought Laura that perfume she's been obsessed with for months? And, oh, what is this?'' With a smirk, she plucked a Valentine's card from underneath a stack of papers on his desk. 

Swift like a cobra, Clint snatched it from her hand before she could open it. His cheeks burned as he stashed the red and pink paper deep in a desk drawer, slamming it shut loudly. ''You Russian dickheads need to stay out of my business,'' he grumbled. Natasha had been sitting next to him when he ordered that perfume, and while he thought he'd been sneaky, obviously she saw. And then told Katya.

The brunette had to fight off a malicious laugh, in the depths of her element. ''Hm… Natalia will be thrilled to hear about that card.'' She tilted her head, pursing her lips as she pretended to think hard. ''What did it read on the front, again? 'A man like me has a lot to be thankful for'?'' 

''Okay, okay!'' Clint looked like he was about to scream in frustration, slamming the papers in his hands down. He knew she was completely serious in her threats—she would tell Natasha. But Katya could keep a secret if he helped her out. ''Fine, I'll help with your plan.'' He pointed a warning finger at her. ''But if I face serious consequences because I tempered with an agent's mission, it's your responsibility.''

''Absolutely.'' Katya nodded sternly, her eyebrows knitted together. ''I'll tell them I blackmailed you with a Valentine's Day card.''

Spotting the amused glint in her eyes, Clint shook his head with exasperation. One of these days, either Katya or Natasha was going to cause him a mental breakdown because they were just so good at emotional manipulation. ''You need serious help,'' he muttered, grabbing his laptop.

~~~~

The hotel bar wasn't too busy. Most people were still enjoying their late dinner or were spending the evening with their lover, holed up in a bedroom. Natasha had seen enough of them today; couples. It's the one day of the year where people suddenly seem to remember to show affection to their partners. Dinners, movies, gifts—they were all talking about the same things, all day.

She didn't really care about Valentine's Day as a holiday. Sure, she and Katya bought a little something for each other, and tried to do something together if they got the chance to—not including the evening sex, of course—but she did it because it made Katya happy. Natasha was a moreso a believer of showing her appreciation all year 'round. Leaving a sweet note, taking her out for dinner, planning a movie night with snacks, running Katya a bath, giving her a massage. 

But Natasha would be lying if she said that she didn't miss her a little more today. This mission had been dragging on for three weeks. And while she had hoped to be home tonight, she was sitting in a five star hotel's fancy bar, all dressed up, sipping on her Dirty Martini, because Clint had given her new intel. Seducing a man, of all things, when she had a sexy, attractive woman waiting for her at home, must be the universe's type of karma. 

Lazily, she stirred her drink, seeing the bartender move around in her peripheral vision. The stools beside her were empty, the atmosphere calm; soft, classical music playing in the background. It was boring. Clint didn't say what time her target's ''business associate'' would arrive. She could be sitting there for hours. Her mind wasn't as focused as it should be, her thoughts drifting away from her.

It took her a moment too long to realize that somebody was sitting down on her left, gracefully settling down on the high stool with a quiet rustle. There was a flash of red silk, and then a whiff of a deep, sensual perfume. 

Natasha stiffened, her body already knowing what her mind didn't want to believe yet. Slowly, from the corner of her eye, she looked her neighbor up and down, her gaze lingering on their chest and exposed neck. It was the most elegant, exquisite picture she'd ever seen, the red silk dress draping around her figure like liquid. Most of her back was exposed, a decent amount of cleavage showing while the fabric ran all the way to her ankles in loose waves, accentuating the curves Natasha could draw with her eyes closed. 

This was the type of woman men used to go to war for.

Natasha's heart started to race in her chest. "Fuck," she muttered under her breath as she averted her eyes forward again, fighting to keep her cool. Preferably, she'd rip that dress off her body right here, right now, but she had a mission to run. Although she was starting to get an inkling that she might have been misled. "You're not supposed to be here."

"Would you like something to drink, ma'am?" The bartender had materialized in front of them.

Katya smiled charmingly and placed her clutch on the bar. "A Vodka-Martini, please."

''Coming right up.''

Natasha followed the man with her eyes as he walked off to make her order. Next to her, Katya casually touched up her lipstick. Fuck, it was her favorite. "I'm assuming there's no "business associate" I'm meeting tonight?"

"I thought you'd rather have me instead,'' Katya said, tapping at her lip with her ring finger. Her complete lack of fucks given about interrupting her mission and using Clint to lure her here with a lie was both annoying and amusing. Natasha wanted to be more pissed, but in reality, she was really happy to see her.

"You're not wrong, but I am supposed to be on duty around the clock."

"Screw the mission,'' Katya declared, tossing her lipstick and mirror back in her clutch before turning to face her girlfriend. She tilted her head, a smile on her perfectly kissable lips. ''It's Valentine's Day. We're not supposed to be apart."

Part of Natasha's brain wasn't working correctly. Katya's alluring appearance had hypnotized her. She wasn't sure if she wanted to sculpt her beauty into marble for all eternity to see, or worship her body all night until it was covered in drops of sweat. "So you sabotaged my mission because you missed me too much?" She smirked, finally giving in and turning her body in Katya's direction.

The brunette shrugged, something mischievous flashing across her face. "Maybe I'm just incredibly horny."

Caught off guard by her bold statement, Natasha nearly lost her composure. "Are you?" She mused, ignoring the twitch low in her stomach.

Instead of answering, Katya smirked confidently. "Are you?"

"Definitely." She couldn't lie—or joke—about the impact Katya had on her, her teasing demeanor fading into an intense, lustful one as she took the time to take in Katya's appearance once more. "You look fucking incredible," she muttered, noting how Katya shifted on her stool at the desire in her voice.

In that dress, she was an expensive, rich wine from France and Natasha was the alcoholic who hadn't had a drop in three weeks. It took every ounce of self-control to stay seated. Her throat was dry, her hands were itching. 

Reluctantly tearing her gaze away, Natasha reached for her drink and took a big sip. It didn't fix her burning throat, but the sensation brought her back to Earth. "Maybe I should leave more often so you can interrupt my missions looking like this," she joked.

Katya chuckled, slowly circling the rim of her Martini glass with her finger. "Or, you can take me out to dinner sometime, give me a reason to dress up." Her gaze met Natasha's. "Maybe to one of those posh restaurants where I would actually have to wear underwear to."

Natasha's fingers tightened around her glass, her wide eyes flickering to Katya's hips. "Baby…" Katya had prepared for this night to end one way, and with how she was working her up, Natasha knew it was going to be good. She smiled to herself, excitement flooding her veins. "I'm gonna buy Clint such a big bottle of Vodka when I get back."

"I don't think he's gonna be able to look at us for a while. It's pretty obvious what I was planning when I asked him to help us meet up. At night. In a hotel."

"Oh, yeah?" Natasha smirked.

Katya raised an eyebrow. "If I'm still able to walk out of here by myself tomorrow, I'm gonna make you pay for this dress."

Natasha chuckled, reaching out and slowly trailing her fingertips up Katya's arm. They left a trail of goosebumps in their wake. "How about this: I ruin your pretty makeup, your ability to walk, and I pay for the dress?"

"That better be a promise." Katya's lips held a daring smirk, her body still as Natasha's fingers had reached her collarbone. "My mascara is waterproof."

"Do you doubt me?" Natasha asked, her hand ghosting over Katya's throat. A shiver ran through the brunette's body as her pupils dilated. 

"I know you like to talk big."

Natasha pulled her hand away to place it over her heart. "Katariina, you're breaking my heart."

"I didn't know you had one to break," Katya mused.

"It's a little messed up, but it's yours."

Between all the flirting and sexual tension, this half-hearted, soft joke came out of nowhere. Katya had to take a second to switch around. "Where did you learn to sweet-talk like that?''

Natasha shrugged, turning away to take another sip of her drink. ''A place where I met this girl.''

Katya's smile turned knowingly, warmth swirling in her chest. She loved it whenever Natasha spoke about falling in love with her. ''There's always a girl."

''This one was special. She cared. And nobody had ever cared about me." Their eyes met. Natasha's started to sparkle with a amusement. "Oh, and she had the most beautiful blue eyes.''

Katya fought the urge to roll them. ''She sounds nice.''

''She's more than just nice." Placing a hand on her thigh, Natasha leaned in more with every word, until their faces were only inches apart. Her breath fanned over Katya's chin. "She's brave, and kind, and stunning, and so incredibly smart…''

A low hum fell from Katya's lips, her gaze flickering from the redhead's mouth to her eyes. Her heart raced in her chest. ''You're trying to get in my pants.''

''I thought you weren't wearing any.''

Katya smiled amusedly, her thigh tensing up when Natasha's hand started to creep higher. This was exactly how she hoped this night would go. ''So, how did things end with that girl?''

Her breath hitched when she caught the look on Natasha's face. So lustful. If all of that was going to be released tonight, then her girlfriend would for sure make good on her promise. 

Katya's stomach swirled heavy with anticipation as Natasha brought her mouth to her ear. ''With her underneath me, naked, in a hotel room, her pretty dress on the floor, screaming my name as I make her cum for the sixth time in one night.''

And then they have bed-breaking, wall-shaking, earth-shattering sex

A/N: Please consider reblogging if you liked this fic. It really helps me :)

[bigmacari]

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➴➵➶➴

Hobie Brown x Gen Reader

On Your Period Headcanons

Romantic

☆Warning(s) None

☆Author Note(s) Currently on my period rn, and I feel like shittttttt. But hopefully, I can make your day a little better with some Hobie Brown. I wanna start writing him more so badly. I'm literally obsessed.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➴➵➶➴

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➴➵➶➴

☆ Let me put this simply. He. Is. Educated. He's not gonna sit there and not understand what you're going though. Hobie knows whats up and he's willing to help.

I imagine that in his apartment, he has pads and tampons for literally anyone. He's a firm believer that nobody should have to struggle for basic hygiene products. Especially not in his house.

He wouldn't be shy to march his ass out there and get you some pads or tampons either. All you have to do is tell him what flow and what brand and he's good.

If you use something like washable period underwear or menstrual cups, he's educated in that area too.

What can I say, smart man.

☆ When it comes to cramping, Hobie is more than willing to lay you down and give you some of his body heat. I would like to think he's a fucking furnace. He would cuddle you from behind and put his hand on your lower stomach and massage very gently.

If you get body aches, then he's on that too. Would probably rub your shoulders and back until you fall asleep no doubt.

Has a heating pad for his own aches and pains. Being a spider folk involves a lot of swinging around and being thrown into walls lmao. I just know his back is hurting. But he has no problem letting you use the heating pad at all.

Probably has a stash of ibuprofen or tylenol too.

☆ If your craving something good, Hobie will either cook you something himself or take you out to a small business that he's known for a while.

And no, Hobie Brown who is an actual anarchist, who despises the government, big business, and capitalism, would not take you to McDonald's or Starbucks or something.

He is a small business supporter on my soul.

I imagine that Pavitr also taught Hobie how to make some good ass thai, so if your looking for something warm he's got you.

☆ If your in some big emotions, he also understands. Hobie wouldn't pull some shit like "are ya on your period or somethin' 👆🤓" Yes read that in a British voice.

If your crying or frustrated, Hobie will try and calm you down if you want. But if you wanna be alone, then that's fine too. If you start to get snappy though, I promise you he'll just stand there straight faced and raise an eyebrow lmao.

You someone who gets sleepy on your period? We'll he's not a morning person anyways. Would LOVE to sleep in with you any chance he can get. Especially since he's so busy saving lives and working with the other spider folk.

☆ If you're also a spider person and both of ya'll got paired up for a mission, (which Miguel tries not to do because of "distractions"🙄 I mean who wouldn't be distractioned when your next to THE spiderpunk but whatever) Hobie will pick up some fighting for you subconsciously. I don't know, he just knows your in pain in the first place so his mind subconsciously wants to protect you more.

If you bring it up to him, he'll just make a teasing comment, "What? Can't protect my lover from the big bad?" Tehe, yea I'm down bad.

☆But yea, in general he just wants you to feel comfortable and cared for. And he's really good at it. Which is more than what any other man can do I fear.

Solid 10/10 boyfriend!

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[rhiannonsknife]

Rhiannon taking care of r on their period? (Aka mine suddenly came early and I am Suffering with a capital S 😭)

-🔆

i feel you 🔆 anon!! my cycle has been a fucking MESS lately, so this is purely self indulgent…🙂‍↕️

the cramps hit you like a freight train, sharp and sudden, and you’re halfway to curling into a ball on your bed when the door creaks open.

rhiannon leans against the doorframe, her sharp gaze softening the moment she sees you clutching your stomach. “that bad, huh?” she asks, stepping into the room.

“you have no idea,” you groan, burying your face deeper into your pillows. “it’s early, too! i wasn’t ready for this!”

she clicks her tongue in sympathy, stepping closer. “early? now that’s just cruel!” her hand rests lightly on your back. “alright, stay put. i’ll handle it”

you half expect rhiannon to leave, but she doesn’t. instead, she pulls a heating pad from the shelf where you’d stashed it, plugs it in, and tests the heat against her hand before placing it gently on your lower stomach. “warm enough?” she asks, her voice oddly soft.

when you give her a quick nod, she adjusts it slightly, making sure it sits just right before she sets about gathering the rest of all essentials. she grabs one of your favorite cozy blankets from the chair in the corner, shaking it out, then tucking it snugly around you.

“i’ll be right back,” rhiannon assures, brushing a stray hair from your forehead where her fingers linger for just a second. she returns minutes later, balancing a steaming mug of tea in one hand and some over-the-counter painkillers in the other. she hands both over without a word, waiting patiently as you sip the tea and swallow the pills, then sits down beside you on the edge of the bed. her weight makes the mattress dip just enough to make you lean toward her.

“anything else you need?” she asks, her tone so soft you barely recognize it as her own.

“you,” you mumble, shifting so your head can rest against her thigh.

rhiannon chuckles as she begins running her fingers through your hair, her free hand rubbing slow, soothing circles on your back. “you’re such a baby,” she teases. “good thing u don’t mind taking care of you”

rhiannon, who’s always willing to go on emergency supply runs for you.

whether it’s 7 in the morning or pushing midnight, if you’re out of supplies, rhiannon is on it immediately. she barely even lets you finish mumbling, “i think we ran out of…” before she’s grabbing her keys! not even ten minutes later and your phone buzzes with a text.

do you want the chocolate bar with caramel or the peanut butter one?

you smile faintly at the screen, the cramps momentarily forgotten. when you text back that you’re fine with either chocolate bar, her reply is immediate.

not helpful. i’ll get both.

rhiannon who always does her very best to relieve your pain somehow.

as much of a pro she is when it comes to inflicting pain, she hates to see you even slightly uncomfortable. her hands are firm but gentle as she rubs slow circles on your lower back, her touch instinctively finding the exact spots that hurt the most. “tell me if i’m pressing too hard,” she murmurs, though her touch is always just right: never too light to feel useless, never too firm to be uncomfortable. she doesn’t rush it either. her movements are steady and patient, her focus entirely on making you feel better, even if it’s just a little bit. when you sigh in relief or lean into her hands, rhiannon takes it as a small victory already. “better?” she’ll ask occasionally, her tone full of gentle care.

rhiannon, who’s always down for some cuddles, especially when you’re physically unwell.

she’s not the most physically affectionate person by default, mostly because she’s not used to having somebody around. but whenever she notices that you’re in pain, that whole tough exterior of hers softens instantly. without another word, rhiannon pulls you into her lap, her strong arms wrapping around you protectively <33

rhiannon, who secretly sets a reminder on her phone for your next expected cycle.

she lowkey uses the period tracker app to track your cycle, not her own!! she even adds a buffer day or two, just in case, and logs all your symptoms. you catch her once, frowning at her phone, her thumb tapping quickly. “what are you doing?” you ask. “making sure we’re ready,” rhiannon replies without looking up. “i’m not letting this sneak up on us again!”

and she means it. she logs your symptoms as soon as you mention them, a headache, cramps, mood swings, so she can predict the next time they might hit. she sets reminders for herself to restock supplies before they run out and makes mental notes to grab your favorite comfort snacks when the time comes. it’s surprisingly sweet, even if she’s a little obsessive about it. “you don’t have to do all that,” you tell her once, feeling a little embarrassed by just how thorough she is. rhiannon just shrugs. “i want to. makes things easier, doesn’t it?”

rhiannon, who keeps an eye on you all week long…

…watching for even the smallest sign that you’re struggling. she doesn’t make a big deal out of it, but she’s attentive, always catching you when you wince from a cramp or when you zone out, overwhelmed by the pain. on particular shitty days, she’ll frequently check in on you. “how’re you holding up?” rhiannon asks then. if you don’t answer right away, or if you give her a quiet, strained “fine,” she’s already on it.

“okay, we’re taking a break,” she decides firmly. “couch. now!”

[dante2045]

Becoming Spiderman

The sirens screeched through the streets of New York City, echoing through the night. Mary Jane Watson looked from the window of her high rise apartment at the flashing lights below, biting her nails to help soothe her nerves.

It had been two weeks since Peter had disappeared in the middle of the night. Mary Jane had awoken to find her boyfriend hastily packing a bag, saying he (and more importantly, his alter ego Spider-Man) were needed for an emergency situation. Mary Jane had tried pressing him for details, but Peter remained frustratingly vague as he slipped into his Spider-Man costume. He had promised to be in touch as soon as he could, hoping it wouldn't be a long trip. With a quick parting kiss, Peter leapt from their apartment window and swung off into the night.

Two weeks with no sign of Spider-Man had resulted in all out chaos. As soon as the criminals realized New York's friendly neighborhood Spider-Man was on holiday, they had decided to seize the moment. The police didn't have the resources to keep up with all of the bank robberies, looting and other petty crimes that had been plaguing the city for weeks. And when Spider-Man's greatest foes realized they had free reign, things really started to escalate. Mary Jane watched the news report on her television detailing Sandman's attack on Times Square mere moments ago, the latest in a string of supervillain schemes.

For what felt like the millionth time that day, Mary Jane dialed Peter's number. As she had predicted, it went straight to voicemail without even ringing. Wherever Peter was, it appeared to be way off grid and she had no way of reaching him or knowing when he would return. Mary Jane was terrified of what another few days without Spider-Man would do to New York; god forbid if he remained AWOL for another few weeks. As much as she didn't want to admit it, she knew it was time to enact their emergency protocol.

Mary Jane hurried to the bedroom, pulling open the closet door. She slid her hand along the back closet wall until she felt the hidden switch, pushing down on it. She took a step back as the closet wall swung open, revealing the hidden compartment behind it. It didn't take her long to find the black briefcase among Peter's emergency stash of Spider-Man gear. She pulled the briefcase out and set it on their bed; a warning in bold capital letters reading 'OPEN IN EMERGENCY SITUATION ONLY'.

Mary Jane clicked open the case, revealing the contents inside. Along with a Spider-Man suit, there was a small syringe filled with a neon green liquid. Mary Jane took off her civilian clothes to put on the Spider-Man suit. It was not designed to fit her curvy body and she struggled to pull the skintight suit over her breasts, but eventually she succeeded. She took a look at her reflection in the mirror; seeing as the suit had been designed for Peter's specifications, it fit her surprisingly well.

She eyed the syringe warily as she picked it up. It wasn't that Mary Jane didn't trust Peter's scientific formula; she was sure the injection would work just as he had designed. And it had been her suggestion that they needed a contingency plan if Spider-Man was ever unavailable to meet the needs of their city, after all. With gritted teeth, she slid the needle into her wrist and pushed down on the plunger, feeling a sharp sting as the formula was injected into her.

Mary Jane anxiously paced her small apartment, waiting for the serum to take effect. It wasn't long until she has hit with a sudden wave of dizziness, nearly stumbling to the floor as she reached out for the wall as support. She knew it was starting.

Mary Jane's calves burned as they stretched out, lengthening while also bulking up with lean but defined muscle. Her thighs also widened with mass and strength, the suit's skintight material hugging her muscular quads. She let out a gasp as her wide hips narrowed, her round butt deflating as it firmed up.

The burning sensation moved up her legs, settling into her crotch. Mary Jane looked down as an unmistakable bulge formed in the groin of her suit, pushing against the material. She reached down and grasped her new manhood, trying to readjust the member to a more comfortable position. Peter would often complain about his suit being too tight in the crotch, and she could now fully emphasize with his plight. She let out another grunt, this one slightly deeper than the previous one, as her ball sack emerged. She gently cupped her balls through the suit, moaning as they pumped testosterone throughout her body. Her dick was beginning to swell, hardening from her state of arousal.

Mary Jane was still exploring her new genitals as the transformation continued upwards. Her slim, tight stomach hardened into a defined six pack of abs. The suit's material pressed down on her breasts, crushing them downwards as they sunk into her chest. Her former breasts were reshaped into a pair of muscled pectorals, her hardened nipples visible through the fabric.

The changes were coming fast and hard now; Mary Jane knew she was nearing the end. Her shoulders broadened while her arms thickened with muscle, growing to be twice their previous proportions.

Her fiery red hair darkened to brown, shortening and styling into a masculine hairstyle. Her round face squared out as her jawline hardened, a thin layer up stubble sprouting up along her chin. Her soft facial features gradually shifted, her warm bright eyes darkening while her eyebrows thickened and plump lips thinned out.

With an overwhelming sense of nausea, Mary Jane stumbled into the apartment bathroom to look at her reflection. She saw her boyfriend Peter looking back at her.

"Wow. It actually worked," Mary Jane marveled, shaking her head in disbelief.

The nauseous feeling continued to grow as the room started to spin, Mary Jane tightly gripping onto the vanity for support. Dark spots blinked across her vision, and she struggled to keep her eyes open. The blackness crept in, and Mary Jane knew she was going to black out...

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

Peter opened his eyes, startled from his slumber by the sounds of a police siren. He jumped up off the floor, arms at the ready for any sign of a threat. After his senses had settled, he realized he was in his apartment's bathroom and allowed himself to relax. How had he ended up here? Last thing he remembered, he was...wait, why didn't he remember anything?

"MJ? Are you here?" Peter called out. He did a quick scan of the living room and kitchen before checking in the bedroom. His eyes widened as he recognized the case on the bed, picking up the empty syringe from where it'd been dropped. That explained the memory loss, Peter thought somberly.

"Damn it, MJ," Peter cursed, shaking his head. He had never wanted to agree to this contingency plan, that she should step in as his replacement if he was ever unable to fulfill his role as Spider-Man. She had been stubborn and persuasive, arguing that Spider-Man was more important than either one of them. And she had alieved his fears by assuring it would never likely come to that, anyways.

That was evidently not the case, Peter thought bitterly. He wondered about where the original Peter was and if there would be a way to reverse the process and get Mary Jane back. The thought that he may have lost her for good filled him with an overwhelming panic, but he pushed those thoughts aside. If Mary Jane had taken the serum, things must have been dire, and he had no time to waste.

Peter slid on his mask and pried open the bedroom window. He could see flames burning in the distance, and the sirens sounded like they were coming from every direction. It was time to get to work. He'd save the city, and then he'd find a way to bring his girlfriend back. Either that, or the original Peter would be dating himself whenever he got back from wherever the hell he was.

Spider-Man swung out into the night, ready to save his city.

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Thanks to everyone who has read this! It's my first time attempting fan fiction, combining characters I love with the transformation genre. Would love to have some feedback on what you thought of this and if you would want to read similar stories in the future or prefer entirely original characters?

[thewrittenqueer]

It starts with Regulus taking up gardening

He’s an exceptional potioneer and if he’s going to go far in that career he needs to know how to make his own ingredients. Plus, though, he is one of Slug’s favorite students he can’t just regularly take supplies from Slug’s stash (especially for personal use)

However he can’t make a garden in the dorms. It’s a usually cold dungeon, with the only sunlight being reflected through murky lake water, and only a finite space to work with. So he had to find a place on the grounds to do it.

It’s on one of his late night broom rides or stargazing at the astrology tower when he can’t sleep that he finds it. He only sees a glint of glass from up there, so he goes exploring during one of his free periods.

It’s on the very outskirts of the forbidden forest. A very rundown cabin and an equally rundown greenhouse. Regulus guesses it’s the old caretaker dwelling’s before they were moved closer to the castle.

Regulus spends months fixing it up until he can start planting. He’s pretty much the only one who goes there and he only plants what he needs.

It’s stays that way until, of all things, w**d. Barty keeps complaining about the hufflepuffs raising the price

(Glaring at Barty as his reading is interrupted for the fourth time by this rant, Reg says, “Your dad’s literally the Minister of Magic, Barty. It’s not like you're hurting for money,”

“It’s the principle of it, Reg!”

Not even looking up from the newest witch weekly she’s reading Dorcas adds, “Yeah fuck capitalism and all that,”

“Yes! Thank you Cas!”

She merely flips him off when he turns his glare on her)

Unable to deal with any more of Barty’s complaining, he adds a corner to grow it for him. Which of course leads to the skittles wanting their own area too. In the end its covered in so many various fruits/veg, flowers, and plants (muggle and wixen alike) that it leads outside of the greenhouse

Eventually this leads to all the skittles spending more and more time over there until it goes from Reg’s place to all of theirs

——

The cabin is a perfect hideout. There’s a tiny fireplace that Reg has to chop wood for.

James does start to notice that Regulus’s arms start to get bulgier and more defined. He starts paying more attention to Regulus. Obviously because he has to be doing some over the top quidditch training to win the house cup that James has to steal it (no other reason)

On top of that there’s a cozy little reading nook where he can read muggle books and “trashy” wixen ones without judgemental eyes. As well as a comfy living room and bedroom.

Though the cherry on top is that he’s allowed to relax and be him. He doesn’t have to wear a dozen masks and appear to be the utmost perfect heir to everyone. Most importantly, though, he can freely hang out with all his friends too.

Not only the skittles but Remus and Lily too. (Yes they get their own spots in the garden too and they sit around trading books, reading together, studying together, etc. in the nook. Barty and Evan, the a**holes that they are, loves to call them the swot squad)

Plus through it he becomes friends with Marlene, Xeno, and Mary.

Lily, Dorcas, and Pandora refuse to hide things from their partners. (It does help that they’re free to make out without prying eyes there) He doesn’t have to worry about anyone reporting this back to his parents

Sure they can hang out in the library (a place he never has to worry about his brother or James coming in) but they either have to be tucked back in hidden corner so no one can see or hear them or pretend not to know each other as they sit at the same table (it’s the same way with Slug Club)

Somehow Lily manages to get a whole muggle telly and other electronics in there (no one knows how she manages this as they are hella expensive + it's the middle of the year but even Barty is afraid to ask) and her and Mary make it their mission to catch the group up on Muggle culture, especially pop culture.

He loves it

——-

For close to half a year they manage to keep a secret.

However with Remus disappearing constantly (which alone raises Sirius’s radar) there’s not someone there to reel Sirius and James in. Plus with Peter busy with chess club + his new girlfriend and promising to tone down their pranks as they’re older now, they get bored quicker.

Sirius deals with this by paying more attention to the other people at Hogwarts, or more specifically the slytherins. Snivellus and Mulciber and their gang are as awful as usual, but there is something going on with his brother’s gang. Immediately he believes it to be something nefarious or evil and becomes determined to see what his slimy brother and his friends are up to

James deals with this through trying to find Lily and Regulus. With so much time spent watching Regulus trying to figure out the man’s secret quidditch practice routine, he can’t help but admit the man intrigues him. He wants to learn more about the man outside of his preconceptions from Sirius’s rants. It’s kinda the same in Lily’s case. After spending so long pining after her and getting turned down at every turn and then learning that she has a girlfriend he’s given up. Now all he wants is to be her friend to make up for her putting up with all his antics and shit over the years. Though both he can’t seem to find either of them anywhere

So one day, after curfew, they follow Evan back to the cabin. They wait by the tree line as Evan goes inside. Before James can stop him, Sirius tosses off the cloak and slams the door in. Hoping to catch his brother and friends red handed.

Neither of them except what is actually happening inside.

Xeno and Remus are busy in the kitchen making hot cocoa and snacks

Barty and Lily are about to throw hands over a game of monopoly with Mary cracking up from the sidelines and adding fuel to the fire once in a while

Marlene and Evan are entranced by what’s on the telly and playfully slapping each other (this will eventually lead to roughhousing then full on wrestling with the rest of the group placing bets on who will come out on top)

Dorcas has bullied Reg into letting her paint his nails black as Pandora does his hair with promises of him doing the same for them

Bottles of elf wine and firewhiskey being passed through the groups

They all freeze when the door slams into the wall and Sirius’s resulting shout of “What the absolute fuck is going on here!”

[moonstruckme]

In a week-

Hear me out: Rockstar Poly!marauders and Rockstar!reader???? Like, maybe no one knew the marauders was dating reader till they performed together for an event?????

Thanks for requesting lovely!

join the party

rockstar poly!marauders x rockstar!reader ♡ 1k words

The tabloids had started speculating when too many of your tour dates lined up. It’s only natural that you’d end up spending some time together, in the same occupation and occupying the same spheres, so you were seen with each of the boys at various eateries, at afterparties, on the street. The only problem for journalists was, they couldn’t figure out which band member you were dating. 

They were clutching at straws. A picture of you grabbing Remus’ hand to pull him into a store, an interview wherein Sirius had complimented your new single, a zoomed-in video of James carrying four coffees back up to the hotel instead of three. The speculation was all over the place, scattered and nearly baseless. 

Not after tonight. It had been Lily, the Marauders’ manager, who’d had the idea to take this story by the reins. She’d pointed out that fans were only getting more obsessed with the question of which of the boys you were dating, and with both of you releasing new albums soon, it was as good a time as any to capitalize on that interest. Plus, if you did the big reveal before any magazine could figure it out, it’d be your concert that went viral, not their publication. “More press,” she’d said enticingly, “means more people learning your names and listening to your music.” 

You’d thought the boys would be the ones to have qualms. Remus wasn’t the type to enjoy making his private life public (it was more an unfortunate side-effect of his career than a draw) and James always talked about how keeping your relationship a secret made it feel less like they had to share you with everyone else, but in the end, they got on board with Lily’s scheme quickly. You all agreed that someone was going to figure you all out sooner or later, and if your romantic life was going to be broadcast, it may as well be on your own terms. 

Still, that doesn’t mean you’re not nervous. 

“Loosen up, angel,” James says, prodding at your foot with his as you lie on Remus’ chest, picking through his usually well-guarded stash of chocolate. “This is supposed to be fun, remember?” 

“It’s not the show I’m worried about,” you say, rubbing your socked foot along his mindlessly. “I’m excited to play with you guys, I just wish we could do that without everyone making assumptions.” 

Remus hums in agreement, but Sirius makes a derisive sound, turning to look at you from the mirror. His eyeliner is half done, making one eye seem big and dangerous and the other naked. 

“You two are being so dramatic,” he says. “Of course they’re gonna assume, and they’ll be right. That’s the point.” 

You sigh, tipping your head back onto Remus’ shoulder, and he runs his hand up and down your side commiseratively. 

“It’s going to be a great show.” James tries again to lift your foul mood. You try to look less dismal in return. “You and Sirius’ voices go so well together, the crowd will love it.”

“It’s true.” Sirius smirks at you through the mirror. “And later, we’ll go to the afterparty—”

“Do we really have to?” Remus asks.

James looks sympathetic, reaching forward to rub his calf consolingly. “‘Fraid so, love. Lily says the only way to control the narrative is to talk to people after the show. We don’t have to stay the whole time, but we’ll practically be on the clock.”

“Anyway,” Sirius goes on. “We’ll go to the afterparty, and everyone will tell us how cute we are together, and everyone north of the equator will want to be us and fuck us at the same time.” 

You can tell Remus has something to say about that, but before he can, Lily pops her head into the dressing room. “Guys, the opener is finishing up,” she says, eyes lingering on each of your faces assessingly. “Everyone ready?”

“Just a second…yeah,” Sirius says, finishing his perfectly messy eyeliner. “Ready.”

Lily nods before ducking back out, off to go coordinate light technicians or whatever she does in the rush before shows. James offers you and Remus a hand each, hauling you up. You lick your thumb, wiping a bit of chocolate from the side of Remus’ mouth, and he gives you a half-smile of thanks. 

“We got this,” you whisper to him, and he takes your hand, squeezing lightly. 

“I know we do, sweetheart.” 

Sirius is the only one talking as you all make your way to the side of the stage, the crowd cheering loudly as the opening act wraps up their set. 

“Hey.” A hand lands on your shoulder, and you turn to find James attached to it. He’s looking at you with more than the usual pre-show nerves, something more like worry. “Are you really upset about this? We don’t have to go through with it, it’s not too late to tell Lily it’s off.” 

Yes it is, but he’s a sweetheart for saying so. “No, I’m okay,” you promise, reaching up to squeeze his wrist reassuringly. The other band is exiting on the opposite side of the stage, the lights going out. You’re going to be going out there any minute. “I’m excited to perform with you guys, and…and I’m ready to be done with the sneaking around. I’m just nervous, I guess.” 

James slides his hand up from your shoulder to cup your face, your hand still clasped loosely around his wrist. He smooths his thumb over your cheek fondly, eyes gone soft under the faint glaze of adrenaline. “Don’t be, sweetheart. You’re going to do great, and we’ll all be up there together.” He stoops lower so only you can hear him. “Just between us, you and Sirius sound great together, but you can hit notes he never could. They’re gonna love you out there.” 

You grin, and Sirius turns around, eyeing the both of you. “I heard my name,” he says accusingly. “What’re we talking about?”

The lights come back on, and that’s your cue. “Nothing!” you chirp, grabbing his hand and dragging him towards the stage. “Let’s go.”