#surprise this is a hidden vent post

[wrecking]

not an objectum but i believe their beliefs

[youspeakshit]

lestappen 2022 moments ~

I wrote this as a reblog to a different post when I saw people saying they barely interacted up until half of 2023. I wanted to share it as its own thing since it really confused me, I actually changed ships in 2022 bc lestappen were all over each other and I fell in love with them.

I'm gonna link some 2022 content so everyone can cheer up together abt the saudi gp podium weirdness, and make heart eyes at their cuteness.

Getting it outta the way first thing, press conference silliness: one two three four. And an extra twitter thread sharing stuff from each gp.

Max interrupting Charles' interview to say hi, and both forgetting about it to have a small chat.

Do I hear hot ass battles on track? And second link has as surprise this gay ass moment bellow.

And here from a different angle bc austria 2022 is everyone's roman empire.

Charles congratulating Max on his win; they also greeted each other from the cars.

The infamous Charles vlog with Max in the us gp: mysteriously hidden and then removed from his channel.

Them touching 166 times for no reason.

Spending too much time together and using the same phrases.

Behind the scenes of monaco gp by Ferrari and Red Bull are a good watch as well!

Charles got Max for the secret santa that year.

British gp had hidden camera silly debriefings, and also my personal favorite... Charles went after Max to vent about Ferrari fucking up his race and Max looked genuinely upset for him. Extra gifset.

This is just a short compilation of a long year fueled by lestappen that I hope ppl enjoy to learn about or revisit. That year they had 8 podiums together, that's 8 cool down rooms podcasts. And 14 qualis shared, plus 14 post-quali press conferences and waist-hugs. Countless sightings of them out and about with their personal debriefing after qualis and races. It sure was kinda awkward at first, they both seemed to wanna make small talk before getting the hang of their dynamic. But they were battling each other A LOT during this season and having so much fun racing together!

I'll end it linking to a twitter thread with some extra bits. Including this photo from when they got f1 married. Or whatever this was.

[kayliraine]

🎸⭐️ EMA Band AU || character headcanons (pt. 2):

pt.1 pt.3

strap in, i accidentally made this kinda long loll

🗝️🥁 | Eren:

Eren gets a guitar for his birthday in late elementary school and doesn't really touch it much until one day when Mikasa comes over and tells him how cool it is. Then he starts teaching himself.

Eren plays a song in their middle school’s talent show because he secretly (but oh so obviously) wants to impress Mikasa, but his hands are so shaky and he’s so nervous that he kinda bombs it. Jean makes fun of him, and without hesitation, Eren goes swinging.

Heated, Jean makes a snarky comment about drums being a better instrument for Eren because it’d “help him vent his anger issues.”

Months later, Jean buys him drumsticks as a joke gift for a Secret Santa event. Eren takes this as a challenge.

Fast forward to "Mikasa and the Titans" as a band, Eren is their drummer and he’s amazing at it (though he will never, ever thank Jean for the inspiration).

He occasionally helps write songs too, but he’s not as good at expressing himself, and his writing is kind of juvenile.

Armin still encourages him to try, and together with Mikasa, he embellishes and translates Eren's verses.

Eren also knows how to sing but doesn't like to as much. It feels like more of a private thing to him.

Sometimes Armin will write songs for him though because he loves his voice. These songs are usually slower, more somber, and quite stripped back. Often it’s Eren singing with his guitar, Armin on keys, and Mikasa harmonizing with him.

During performances, Eren sings his one or two songs last and it’s always a surprise to the audience when he stands from his drum set. No one expects it, but he’s really good.

When he sings he goes off into another world and it’s almost as if he forgets he’s on stage.

He’s definitely the most mysterious of the group—he probably posts the least on social media, but he's still a fan favorite.

On the side, Eren posts some metal covers on youtube. He doesn’t advertise it at all—even Mikasa and Armin have to come across it themselves without him telling them. (Mikasa gets very upset he kept it a secret and he has to apologize profusely.)

He has an impressive metal growl akin to his canon titan roars.

🧣🎸 | Mikasa:

As a kid, Mikasa is by no means musically inclined. Her parents force her to do piano lessons for a while, but she quits out of frustration.

This all changes in elementary school when she sees Eren get a guitar, inspiring her desire to learn as well.

At first, she borrows Eren's guitar a lot and gets him to teach her chords and strumming patterns (and he likes to act all annoyed about it, but it's so clear he enjoys helping her).

Eventually, her parents buy Mikasa her own guitar for her birthday, and from then on, she starts learning more on her own. Sometimes she and Eren still play together though.

Mikasa is a fast learner and incredibly determined, so her skills progress quickly and she’s soon surpassing even Eren. (It makes him feel a little bad, but that feeling is almost immediately replaced with strong admiration.)

She starts learning how to sing too. She develops a silvery, sweet, and clear tone that grows more intense when she sings passionate songs.

At some point, Armin confides in Mikasa his hidden passion for writing poetry, and Mikasa creates melodies on her guitar inspired by his work—sometimes even singing his words aloud. (It makes him feel flustered at first, but it soon evolves into the two of them creating experimental acoustic songs together for fun.)

Mikasa has an undeniable stage presence. She is confident, and the way she plays the guitar as she sings seems almost effortless. She has a very devoted fanbase of people who simp over her and her cool energy.

Mikasa manages their group’s Instagram, TikTok, and Twitter accounts, (because Eren is too chronically offline to understand marketing, and Armin is a bit of a boomer with internet jargon and memes). so the fans get to interact with her the most.

She posts a lot of OOTDs and sneak peeks of upcoming songs on her Instagram story.

Many of their fans rely on her stories to get a glimpse of what Eren is actually like because he never posts and has a habit of blocking people on Twitter who say things about their band that annoy him (i.e. rumors about him having a thing for Mikasa because of the way he looked over at her during one of the recorded performances…).

Mikasa takes her musical career very seriously and is constantly on that grindset mindset.

She’s always coming up with new melodies on her guitar and sending voice recordings late at night in their group chat. It’s something fun for her to do and it comes so naturally.

🐚🎹 | Armin:

Armin takes piano lessons as a child and is literally a prodigy. He plays at all of their school’s holiday ceremonies and even participates in (and wins) competitions.

He is extremely talented: he has perfect pitch, starts learning to compose his own songs at an early age, and gets amazing grades on top of it all. He is a hardworking kid.

Along with his musical interest, Armin has also always been interested in literature and writing (He grows up to be an English or Linguistics major for sure).

He goes everywhere with a book in hand.

He enjoys telling Eren about the books he reads, and Eren listens diligently. It’s easy and comfortable to tell him things as he always seems genuinely interested in what Armin has to say, no matter the subject.

Armin develops an interest in poetry in middle school and even starts a journal where he writes his own.

He’s extremely shy about his writing at first, only really showing Mikasa because he's too embarrassed to show Eren (not because he thinks Eren will make fun of him—he just really looks up to Eren).

Mikasa inspires him to combine his two passions of music and writing by composing pieces to accompany his poetry.

It moves him how Mikasa is so captivated by his writing that she wants to help him with his music too.

In their band, Mikasa is the main singer, but Armin can also sing a little. He has a higher range and does harmonies for her in some of their songs.

It's not his thing though, so he doesn't sing otherwise.

Armin has to force Eren and Mikasa to study with him sometimes because they tend to neglect their schoolwork due to their extreme engrossment in their music.

Despite his devotion to school, Armin still does a lot of work for the band when he has time.

He’s the one who contacts venues in the area for them to perform at. He handles a lot of their social ventures despite his anxious and non-confrontational nature.

Armin really enjoys being in the band—he likes being around his friends more than anything in the world. And hearing his written words turning into beautifully layered noise makes him giddy to no end.

AAA THANK YOU FOR READING ASKNSJK EMA band inspired playlist :) :

also if you guys have any questions or thoughts about this au, don't hesitate to ask!!! I like to talk <33

[cozzzynook]

Drift and Ratchet coming back to the lost light surprised to find Rodimus holding a sparkling he'd recently had. Soundwave is next to him worried because he'd just been released from the hospital earlier that day and needed time to recover.

“Welcome back,” Rodimus smiled very, very exhausted.

The two had just come back to the lost light from their honeymoon and called to what was now Rodimus’s new room more hidden than his last.

They were completely surprised and shocked that Rodimus had gotten a new room and when they smelled more than one scent inside while standing at the door they were completely taken aback.

Drift’s digit print allowed him to enter inside and the scent of happiness and unbearable pain made the two rush towards the berth room where they practically busted the door open with their frames only to stop and see Soundwave fretting over Rodimus who was sitting up looking entirely too uncomfortable and in pain to be wearing the otherworldly smile that he did.

They took in the sight of wires attached to his spark, the IV just beneath his pouches and in his wrist port and the very huge painful looking tank that had yet to go down all but parading itself beneath the nesting blanket. As a tiny sparkling suckled the exposed pouch that Soundwave’s servo covered from their optics along with the tiny and extremely fresh sparkling that weakly pawed at it.

The new spark was but a carbon metallico copy of Soundwave, frame type and color included and the exhausted expression on Rodimus faceplates looked a nano vent away from giving in. But stubbornness and a need to see his bitty kept him awake.

“I’m so glad you guys are back. Come ere,” he struggled to speak. His optics dim, frame weak in a way Soundwave shifted to hold his weight entirely up allowing the two to see his pouches as he whispered in Rodimus’s audial.

That unnaturally deep and powerful vox snapped the two out of their stupor and Ratchet immediately went to work on Rodimus and the new spark with Soundwave careful optics watching. The mech had no accusations towards Ratchet but it was deep sire and conjunx coding keeping him from looking away as he relayed all the info to Ratchet through data sharing comms.

“Kid, you have one pit of a welcome home present for us, thats for sure,” Ratchet couldn’t help but smile. His optics were misty but he’ll argue it’s due to old age instead of what it really is. While Drift just out right cries as he carefully hugs his amica and primus sparkling.

“Roddy! You should’ve told us! We would’ve come back immediately!”

“That’s why I didn’t,” Rodimus was barely able to rely what those words and it was Soundwave’s careful movements along with Drif softly taking the now sleeping bundle and Ratchet helping Soundwave lower Rodimus to the berth. That Rodimus lost his battle to recharge.

“He’s fine. I want to stay to monitor his and the sparklings spark and vitals. Even if he gave emergence this morning, due to his health and the nature of his spark it’ll take longer than a normal post emergence period to heal.”

Ratchet kept his scanner on both Rodimus and the new spark as Rodimus slept with his servo intwined with Soundwave’s who kept a tentacle wrapped loosely on his bitty that Drift cried over.

“Ratty! A sparkling! Roddy had a whole sparkling! We have a sparkling Ratty!!”

Soundwave knew the moment he and his conjunx were sparked the swords mech and medic would have claim on their bitty as well. Just as Rodimus had claim on the two’s adult bitties such as First aid, Red Alert and Medwing.

Being conjunxed to Rodimus meant he had claim of their adult sparklings as well but he never commented or did anything beyond a curt hello and remained beside Rodimus.

So Soundwave expected the two to fawn over and proclaim parentage over their new spark and he was grateful in a way since the medic and swordsmech would do anything for their sparklings and now the new spark his conjunx brought into the galaxy mere hours ago.

It gave him time to take care of his conjunx who now thankfully lay asleep getting the rest he’s more than deserving of.

If Soundwave had his way, his bright spark would be letting him take care of their bitty while he laid in berth or rested until their little gigabyte could walk and he was rounding Rodimus out with the next little soundling.

“You did amazing, sweet spark,” he whispered in his souls audial, low enough only for him to hear and deep enough to make both their frame shift as their sparks begged to merge.

“I love you, i love you, i love you,” his spark sung through touch as he curled against Rodimus whose frame always responded in kind.

Drift and Ratchet were long familiar with the display having gone through the process with their own three bitties that Drift carried so long ago. It doesn’t phase them to experience the intimate display of affection Soundwave gifts Rodimus who more than deserves it.

They’re too busy enraptured in their own intimate moment as they welcome the very first new spark Rodimus has ever emerged into their family.

“They’re beautiful,” Drift keeps crying and Ratchet is reminded of all the times they held their sparklings who weren’t nearly as quiet as this one.

“Welcome home kid,” Ratchet can’t help but shed a few tears as he enjoys the warm welcome of life both old and new.

What a beautiful gift to come home to indeed.

[doumadono]

Emergency request:

Hey I hope it's okay if I request some comfort with Hawks. I've had struggled for a long time now never really telling anyone even though I have had times where I got anxiety/panic attacks almost daily. Mostly because of some family issues and having to had been safe place and supporter for both my younger siblings and a mother. (there has happened a lot but I won't go to any specific details) It was both freeing and terrifying to have moved on my own since I felt like I had in a way less responsibility havig to just look after myself and do what I want. But I also felt anxious of not really knowing what's going at home and feeling like I wasn't really needed anymore. Not really getting many calls to ask how I was doing or if I do it quickly becomes a 'rant' of what's going on in their life, even though it's much better now than few years back.

I'm finally getting help and send a text to my school psychologist because I have been pretty exhausted about everything building up and not really attending to school either. But I'm proud for finally going to talk there and hopefully getting some more help. I'm just anxious of how no one really knows how much I have been struggling and thinks I'm doing well and I don't know how I'm going to face them telling them if I can't continue school at this moment.. Meaning I would have to break the illusion of how I really am.. I'm just used to keeping it inside but I'm trying to break out of that.. but it's scary xd

I'm sorry for the long explanation I don't mean to vent I'm bad at summarizing stuff. There's absolutely no pressure to write this and I wish you have an amazing day! I wanto say I really love your blog and all your amazing writings!❤️

A/N: I apologize for posting this after the 48-hour emergency request window; I've been quite busy recently. I want you to know that reaching out for help is a brave and significant step. You don't have to carry this burden alone, and it's okay to break the illusion. Your well-being matters, and I'm proud of you for taking care of yourself. It may be scary, but you're on the path to healing, and there's strength in vulnerability! Keep moving forward, and things will get better ♥

EMERGENCY REQS MASTERLIST

Hawks had always been known for his swiftness, both in the skies and in his hero duties. But today, as he received your message and read through the turmoil you'd been enduring, he realized that some things couldn't be rushed. He knew that your struggles had been hidden beneath a brave facade for far too long. As he flew toward your place, he used a few of his feathers to discreetly check in on you. They slipped through the slightly ajar window, silently sensing your distress and heavy sighs.

You sat alone, enveloped in the suffocating embrace of your inner demons; your apartment dimly lit, and your heart heavy with the weight of your struggles. The room was filled with a haunting silence, only broken by the occasional distant sirens of the city.

When he finally landed on your balcony, and knocked gently, you were startled, not expecting him to actualy show up. Opening the balcony door, his wings cast a shadow over you. His usually confident demeanor was replaced with an air of solemnity.

"What are you doing here?" you asked, both surprised and touched by his presence.

He gave you a soft, sympathetic smile and stepped inside. "I read your message, and I couldn't just ignore it. You really thought I won't check upon you, songbird? Can I come in?"

Nodding, you led him to your living room, where you both settled on the couch. The weight of your troubles hung heavy in the air, and Hawks knew he needed to tread carefully. "I know this might be difficult," Hawks began gently, "but you don't have to carry this alone anymore. You can talk to me, whatever it might be about."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you finally allowed yourself to speak, the words spilling out like a dam breaking. You shared your anxiety, panic attacks, and the overwhelming sense of responsibility for your family's well-being.

Hawks listened intently, his red wings folding around you protectively as you poured out your heart. "You don't have to hide your pain. It's okay to be vulnerable."

"But what if they see me differently now since I moved out?" you whispered, fear lacing your voice. "What if they think I don't care about them anymore? What if they'll consider me weak if I tell them about my school?"

Hawks leaned closer, his feather-light touch soothing. "Strength isn't about never feeling weak. It's about facing your vulnerabilities and seeking support when you need it, even if you're a pro hero. And believe me, there's nothing weak about that. About the situation with your family - I'm sure they'll finally accept your decision about moving out. Give them time and with small gestures show them that you still care."

As you continued to talk, Hawks offered reassuring words, his presence a comforting anchor in the storm of your emotions. He spoke of his own struggles, sharing stories of the pressure and loneliness that came with being a hero. Hawks gently brushed his feathers against your cheek, a gesture filled with tenderness. "You're not alone in this, okay? I'll be here for you whenever you need me, and I'll support you through the tough times."

Tears streamed down your face as you gazed at him, grateful for his understanding. "Thank you, Keigo. I don't know what I would've done without you today."

He smiled softly, his golden eyes reflecting genuine care. "Anytime, kid. Remember, you've got wings of your own, and you can soar through anything."

[abarbaricyalp]

I thought there was a Post-TFATWS space, but there's not, so have another Free Space fill! @sambuckylibrary

Based on a Daily Fluff Diary post! // cw: injury in the last section // AO3 Link

Knock Before Entering

It's not that Joaquin hasn't seen them make out before. It comes with the territory of spending long amounts of time with two people not only deeply horny for each other, but also just deeply in love. He tries not to think about it. Tries to forget that Barnes clearly needs an outlet for adrenaline after a fight. Tries not to pay attention when a closet door shuts on the jet. Tries to ignore the eyes Sam shoots Barnes that has them both vacating a shared space.

They're good about it. Don't get up in each other's space intentionally when he's around. Barely even touch if they're all sharing a room. One time, Barnes had even slept on the floor instead of sharing a bed with Sam. Though Joaquin had woken at some point in the night and found Sam's arm hanging off the bed and Barnes's arm reaching up so they could hold hands anyway. At least it was his prosthetic arm, so Joaquin assumed he didn't need to worry about a blood rush.

The point is, it's not a secret that Sam and Barnes are together. And they're usually pretty good at keeping to themselves.

Which is why it shouldn't be surprising but certainly is when Joaquin walks back into Sam's office from hunting down the new drone prototype he'd been reporting on and finds Sam half sprawled across his desk with Barnes crowded between his legs, following him down.

Joaquin smacks a hand over his eyes like a child. It means he drops the drone, but it's live, so it just hovers next to him. "Guys, gross!" he snaps, also like a child. It did kind of feel like seeing his parents making out for the first time.

_____

He can hear them spring apart, like it's a surprise that he's back. He'd literally been gone for five minutes tops. He just had to run to his room and get this. He'd told Sam where he was going. He hears a slight exchange of shoves and elbows before Barnes says, "Drop your hand, kid."

Joaquin does after several more seconds, when he's sure the coast is clear. Sam's behind his desk again, Bucky leaning a hip up against the side of it like he belongs here.

"Where did you even come from?" Joaquin asks finally when it seems like no one else is going to volunteer anything.

"World War II," Barnes answers like the smartass he is. "Brooklyn."

“I was gone for three minutes," Joaquin clarified through his teeth. He wants to sit down, thinks better of it, stays just inside the doorway. "What if I was someone else?"

Barnes's mouth quirks a little. It's as much a confirmation as Joaquin will ever get from the man that they are kind of their own little triumvirate. If it had happened under any other circumstance, Joaquin would be elated. Right now, he is not. “But you’re not, so relax, Tweety.”

Joaquin rolls his eyes and walks into the office, giving that side of the desk a wide berth. He sets the new drone down, along with a makeshift manual.

“Don’t go gettin’ attached to that side,” Barnes says.

“Don’t,” Sam warns.

But Barnes pushes on. “I’ve hauled him up on that side too.”

Joaquin doesn’t even both to groan. He just leaves the room again.

. . .

“Ready or not!” a small, but very loud, voice calls from somewhere else in the building.

Bucky ducks into Sam’s office because AJ is fast and if he doesn’t take cover now, he’s going to get caught. There’s a gorgeous wardrobe with a false back in the far corner, but Cass had hidden in there two rounds ago, so it’s likely to be one of the first places AJ looks. The desk is too much on AJ’s level for Bucky to hope to hide well under. By design, Bucky is too big to fit into the vents.

The curtains that hang from the windows don’t quite make it all the way to the floor, but Bucky figures his dark boots will blend into the shadows if he stands far enough to the corner. He can hear AJ’s sneakers on the tile, hurrying down the hallways and checking doors, so he jumps behind the curtain and tries to hold it still.

He jumps behind the curtain and directly onto Sam’s feet.

“Ow! Hey! I’m already here. Go find your own hiding place!” Sam hisses, shoving at Bucky’s shoulder futilely. Bucky intentionally digs his heels down into the ground. Sam glares at him, then takes a deliberate step closer. “If you don’t move, we’re both gonna get caught,” he threatens. “And you know AJ will go after you before he comes after me.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow in doubt. He was almost positive AJ and Cass were teaming up to find Sam, who had not been tagged ‘it’ yet in this game. Mostly because he kept cheating by using all his flight training to get up into the rafters where, even if he was seen, no one could climb up to tag him. Well, Bucky could, but it was too much work, honestly.

“I’m faster than you,” he points out. “And I’m not above tripping you.”

Sam rolls his eyes, leans in, kisses Bucky. It’s enough for Bucky to stop digging his heels in, but Sam gets just as distracted. Actually, instead of shoving Bucky out of the hiding spot, he halfway tries to climb up Bucky’s body. It sends Bucky stumbling back, the curtain getting tangled under his foot, and they both end up crashing against the window, curtain falling away in time for the office door to get pushed open.

“Ugh,” AJ says with so much disdain Bucky kind of can’t believe it. “I knew that’s what you two were doing instead of actually hiding. It’s no fun if you don’t try!”

“It’s all Sam’s fault.” Bucky accuses. The elbow into his ribs exacerbates the ache from falling into the window sill too. Still, he puts himself between Sam and AJ. “Go find your brother.”

“Nuh-uh,” AJ insists. “I found you two. I’m gonna tag you two.”

Sam snickers behind him, squirming away from the pinch Bucky’s trying to land on his hip. “You only need one of us,” he points out.

AJ’s mouth curls to one side with frustration. “I can’t find Cass,” he admits. “I need help.”

“Alright, alright,” Bucky concedes. He steps away from Sam, towards AJ. Waits for Sam to relax. Then he grabs Sam around the waist, holding him still so AJ can run forward and tag him as the next seeker, much to Sam’s loud protests.

“Cheaters!” he cries between laughter. “Betrayal!” But it is ineffective in the long run.

. . .

There should be no one else at the compound, so Bucky’s lazily making out with Sam in his desk chair, Sam across his lap. Joaquin is doing Air Force stuff, the other young heroes are out of state or busy, the older heroes don’t really hang out there. There are no meetings scheduled, no tours, no new introductions. It’s just him, Sam, and the sunshine streaming in from the window.

It’s been a while since they’d been able to do something like this. Cap duties had taken Sam away and Bucky had been pointedly kicked off of the jet. He was still piecing it together, but he thought it might’ve had to do with Hydra. Why he was kept out of the loop with those things, Bucky couldn’t begin to guess, but whatever. In the time Sam was gone, Bucky managed to get himself hurt (which is why he should’ve been allowed on the jet) and Sam had come back so exhausted that, even when they were alone, they mostly just took the security of each other’s company to pass out for hours at a time.

But a quiet weekend and a, so far, quiet week had done wonders and now Sam is getting handsy as Bucky absently pets his chest, over his shoulder, and back down his arm. Contrary to what Joaquin thinks, they haven’t ever actually desecrated the office, but Bucky’s willing to break the streak. Especially when Sam’s fingers fall to his waistband and begin to rub out the indentions of his jeans from his hips.

“Come on, let’s break in the desk,” Bucky cajoles, opening his mouth, deepening the kiss as he licks into Sam’s mouth with more intensity than the afternoon had called for.

Sam laughs unexpectedly, sits back, stares. Bucky can tell when the answer is going to be a straight no. This is not necessarily a straight no, which is almost hot enough to get the job done on its own. Sam’s a daredevil. An adrenaline junkie. People think Bucky’s the bad influence, but it’s not always his fault.

Sam’s just about to pass his judgment, is already moving off of Bucky’s lap to sit on the desk, when the door opens. There’s no one there, which has Bucky pulling Sam away, halfway tossing him towards the window for a fast escape. His mind is already racing with the potential threat–a smoke bomb, a grenade, some other small danger that he can’t see over the width of the desk. He hears Sam grab the shield, a sure, defiant presence behind him.

No bomb goes off. Instead, an orange cat jumps up onto the desk.

“Goose?” Sam asks, lowering the shield.

“Danvers’s cat?” Bucky clarifies. “Oh, shit. No, get down!” he shouts, lunging for the cat sitting on top of Bucky’s leather jacket. But it’s too late. The cat vomits tentacles and ray guns and a glove (or maybe a hand) and slime all across the desk.

“Argh!” Bucky shouts, yanking his jacket free, which makes Goose hiss and jump down. Too late for that, Bucky hisses back in his head.

It’s only a split second later that Danvers appears, just as Goose is running out. She watches her with surprise, then looks at Sam. “Cap, I need your help,” she says. Then her nose scrunches and she looks to Bucky and his jacket. “You need to get that cleaned.”

Bucky really considers throwing it at her.

. . .

The reporters are following Sam, who is trying to answer their questions but it’s weirdly difficult to when they’re walking on his heels. The smoke of the battle is still wafting off of him, which he can’t even smell because of the concrete dust in his nostrils. The cameras flashing in his face are doing nothing to help the migraine digging through his head. He needed a med crew to tell everyone he was probably concussed and to leave him alone.

“Captain Wilson,” someone calls. It still sounds weird to hear it. That’s not really his title, but he’d stopped fighting it after the first few months. “You saved more than a dozen people in midair. How did you react so quickly?”

Sam’s shoulders and back ache at the reminder. “It’s my job,” he says. “I’m supposed to save people. These wings aren’t just a fine accessory, y’know.”

“Captain, how did you figure this plane would be attacked?” someone else asks. His office is so close. The door locks now. He has a couch with a weighted pillow that he can put over his face and drown out the lights and the noise.

“When we realized the target wasn’t physical riches, but riches of the soul and mind, it was a quick hop to the plane carrying the summit awardees and delegations.”

“Mr. Wilson, you saved lives and hope tonight. How many future conflicts do you think you stopped tonight?”

“What?” Sam asks. The words just will not slot into a logical order in his mind. “I can’t tell you anything about the future. Very good people were targeted tonight to stoke division and fear. They were targeted by bad people to get back at other bad people. It was a wholly unfair situation. I am grateful for the lives we were able to save. The damage was still large and there’s yet more clean up to do that affects hundreds of other good people. Please turn your attention, time, and resources towards doing something productive too. You don’t need wings to make a difference.”

The reporters mutter amongst themselves and Sam uses the opportunity to get a hand on the door knob, a foot halfway into his office.

“Sir, is there any update on Sergeant Barnes?”

The image of the building coming down on Bucky as he evacuates civilians flashes through Sam’s mind like a hot sword. The crackle of his comm device as it went dead mid-sentence. The silence that followed. Sam’s heart begins to thrum uncomfortably in his chest, rising up to choke out his throat. He can’t cry on camera.

“As far as I’m aware, no one has made contact with Sergeant Barnes as yet,” he starts to say.

Then the door opens. Bucky’s standing there, looking like a sight. There are bandages wrapped around his head and half of his face is bruised into a sickly black and purple. He’s covered in gashes and scrapes. His right arm is wrapped in a sling. He’s hobbling with one boot on and the other foot and ankle wrapped in even more bandages. He’s clearly in so much pain that all Sam wants to do is shove him down on a bed and keep him asleep until the serum can repair everything.

“I was dug out by the same people I had just gotten out of the building,” Bucky chuckles at the camera, like this is a normal press conference. Actually, that’s not true. If this was a normal press conference, he would be in a back room somewhere, glowering at every reporter and cameraperson he saw. He did not like public speaking. But here he is, looking like it’s his natural calling. “They made quick work of it too. Dragged me off to a med-tent. Felt right at home, huh?” he says, directing the last bit at Sam, since it’s usually Sam dragging him to medical.

Sam can’t answer. Can’t breathe. Bucky’s alive. He’s moving. He’s swollen six ways to Sunday, but he’s making jokes. He was in Sam’s office. Waiting for him.

“Excuse me, guys and dolls,” Bucky says with a wry look at the media. Wry, even though the bruising. So unfair. “I gotta do something real quick.”

And then he’s kissing Sam. It’s awkward and too warm. Both of their faces are different landscapes after the fight. They both smell terrible. Sam keeps getting medicinal alcohol in his mouth and Bucky accidentally peels off two of the butterfly bandages on Sam’s cheek as he holds his face.

It’s one of the best kisses of Sam’s life.

This time, he doesn’t let anything interrupt them.

If you enjoyed this, please consider leaving a note or kudos on AO3

[shinobus-unbreakable-spirit]

Kyojuro Rengoku Fluff: Post-Shift Special Surprise

Kyojuro fluff requested by @kyojuros-eyebrows !

This'll just be a short, sweet, and fluffy SFW fic about Kyojuro comforting the reader after a long day at work. I hope this is an enjoyable read!

---------

You smiled weakly as you stood in front of the door to you and Kyojuro's place. It had been a long day, and truthfully, work had been dragging you down lately in general. However, the one solace was that you got to see him after every shift; he would always be waiting for you with that cheerful smile and uplifting energy.

You opened the door with your key and entered the living room, where Kyo would typically be awaiting your return. Tonight was no different as there he was, sitting on your living room couch, arms folded and that big, bold smile beaming at you.

He opened his arms and you melted into them immediately. He knew how difficult work had been for you, as sometimes he would listen to you vent about your difficult co-workers and ridiculously long shifts. Thus, he was used to you simply falling into his arms after arriving home, and thankfully, he loved comforting you.

"Hello, my love! Back from the war, I see?" he joked, lovingly rubbing your back.

You nodded your head and let out a little "mhm" sound. You only had enough energy to cling onto him and make small noises, but he didn't mind carrying the conversation. He was good at that.

"Well, it's okay, angel, you are here with me now, safe and sound! Also, I have a little something for you..." Kyojuro then kissed you on the forehead before picking you up like his princess, securely holding you with those big, strong arms, "It will first require a little trip to our bedroom!"

You blushed. His kisses showed a different side to him; whilst his personality was strong, energetic, and firm, his kisses were gentle and sensual. They always caught you off guard. As he carried your blushful self to the bedroom, you wondered what he could possibly have in store for you.

"We are almost there... Just close your eyes for me, my sweet, this is a surprise after all!" He requested. You obliged, as you would happily do anything he asked.

You saw nothing but pitch black as the light of your life carried you over to your bed and slowly placed you on it. It was so soft. Furthermore, Kyojuro laid down next to you and wrapped an arm around you, increasing the comfort levels tenfold.

He then kissed you softly on the neck and intimately whispered in your ear, "Those pretty gems of yours can open now." He sometimes referred to your eyes as 'gems', emphasizing how beautiful he found them.

You opened your eyes to see a room you could hardly recognize. It had been getting messy in there as neither of you had much time to clean up, but tonight, he had made it spotless. Additionally, there were little sticky notes placed all across the wall, dozens of them, all listing your various qualities: "Your smile", "Your strength", "Your intellect", "Your body", etc.

"I decided to show you all the things I love about you, my dear," Kyojuro said. "Thus, I had to buy lots of sticky notes!" he added with a playful grin.

Some notes were more descriptive than others, such as the one above your bed, which spoke of the moment he realized he was in love with you, which was when the sheer thought of you made his hands clammy and his heart beat faster.

There was also a sticky note on the door, poetically stating: "You are the one who stokes my flame, darling; without you, I would be mere ash."

There were all kinds of sticky notes like this all around the room, some even hidden. He figured it would be fun for you to hunt for them, then fill your heart with joy whenever you found a new one.

You also noticed a heart-shaped bag on your bedside table which, when opened, contained several of your favorite comfort foods. He massaged your shoulders softly, not saying much, letting you process everything.

You then turned to him and immediately hugged him tightly. He had really done all of this just for you. A few tears poured down your eyes as you expressed your thoughts, just five words; "I love you so much..."

Kyojuro hugged you tightly. "I love you so much too, babe! I can see how hard work has been lately, and knew that I wanted to put something like this together. I just hope that you know that I'm always thinking of you! I'm sorry I didn't do this sooner."

You shake your head, "Don't be sorry, my love... This is amazing, and I appreciate it- no, I appreciate you so much... Just... Thank you."

Kyojuro, smiled and kissed you softly, "You don't have to thank me, the flame of my heart, I would do anything for you."

You both paused for a moment as your eyes met and danced together; deep sentiments of love being expressed in ordinary eye contact, something those not in love wouldn't understand.

Then, Kyojuro spoke: "Now, how about we dig into some of those snacks?" You giggled at your voracious hunk of a man. "Yes, that sounds like a great idea, let's do it."

Then, the rest of the night consisted of you and Kyojuro enjoying food, cuddling, talking, and doing whatever else you wished, surrounded by all of the notes of things he loves about you, which represents what you love most in him: the fact that he always thinks of you no matter what.

---------

This was very enjoyable to write! I hope you had fun reading it! <3

[piedpiperslists]

hi!! its my bday tmr, so do you have any bday fic recs with jk? it could be either jk or oc's bday, thanks again!!

Hi hi! This is not a lot of fics, but hopefully you enjoy these. Happy birthday and hope you have a great day!

Just note that those with angst don't have happy endings.

* s - contains smut

Reader's Birthday:

Afternoon Delight by joopiterjoon - one shot (s) / wc~4.4k / established relationship, PWP Summary: Your boyfriend has a surprise gift for you on your birthday beach trip.

Year After Year (After Tear After Tear) by ubemango - one shot / wc~3.4k / angst, unrequited love, college au Summary: Taehyung just wants you to have a good birthday.

Jungkook's Birthday:

10:46 PM by thekaykery - drabble (s) / established relationship, PWP

21 by here2bbtstrash - drabble / angst, exes au Summary: “I’m sorry I didn’t call. I feel really shitty about it.”

Early Riser by moni-logues - drabble (s) / established relationship, PWP Summary: It's JK's birthday and you want even his first waking moment to be a great one.

Sundae Best by cotccotc - drabble / established relationship Summary: A fancy restaurant is no match for your boyfriend’s appetite for dessert.

The Aftermath by koostarcandy - drabble / established relationship Summary: Post birthday celebrations are in order, the birthday boy thinks. Time for your head massages and a few rounds of his favourite game then!

Whatever You Want! by cheolhub - drabble (s) / established relationship, PWP Summary: Waking up next to you, breakfast in bed, a party with his friends— Jungkook swears his birthday can’t get any better, or can it?

"Big Tiddie Anime Bitches" by h0neypjm - one shot (s) / wc~3.5k / established relationship, PWP Summary: Jungkook, bless his heart, has an obsession. An obsession with big titty anime girls and the idea of you dressed as them. His birthday is coming up, what better time to fulfil his weeb fantasies than on Jungkook's special day. Alternatively... You hate the idea of dressing up as those stupid "big tiddie anime bitches" but your love for Jeon Jungkook is stronger. Besides Jungkook will have his turn next.

Happy Birthday Loser by jungk0oksthighs - one shot (s) / wc~8k / roommates au, PWP Summary: After three years of simping over your roommate, you give him one hell of a birthday celebration.

This one is not Jungkook x reader endgame, but I think this is the best birthday fic there is, and just overall one of the best fics on here.

The End. by jimlingss - one shot / wc~31k Summary: It’s been a habit of yours to vent in the form of love letters. There’s six in total. They’re kept secret, hidden in your closet. But on your 30th birthday, what you least expect is for each letter to become reality. All done by the whacky ghost of Christmas future trying to grant your birthday wish.

[lavender-teardroplettes]

You should do Miguel and Si hcs (Weathering Feelings VN)

Since idk how many people have played it I’ll suggest doing so before reading this post since it’ll contain spoilers!

Hcs under the cut!:

This one’s a little more interesting than most to me due to the nature of the game and Miguel looking at the PLAYER and less so the stand-in he has for you in game, gets a little meta in the best ways in my opinion. UwU

Si would find the general idea for the game really cute assuming the download page is a little different from the irl itch page and doesn't include any spoilers. It would be neat if the moment he downloads it the page is gone since it's meant for him and no one else. (though this is an open mc headcanon even if it wasn't Si, I just think it's a neat idea). While he knows games aren't the same as getting real therapy, sometimes it's nice to harmlessly vent to a game just to get it out.

I think he'd play a "normal" route where he wouldn't notice anything off about the game just yet, not hitting the right flags right away and putting the game down for a day or two before booting it up again to try and get a new route with one of the other Doctors before going back to try and do a better route with Dr. Nubloso....only to get him again even after picking different answers. Weird...but he thinks "maybe I have to hit a flag first and clear his route first." He does better the second time around, but now things are getting...weird, and he notices that the game sprite seems to be looking directly at him.

Once he gets to the part where things get really weird and Dr. Nubloso starts talking about going into the game files before the route ends, Si gets really spooked and closes the game again. He's surprised and a little shocked at the change of pace in the story, but he also can't help but be a little curious about what would happen if he did delete the file. It's also around 2-3 am at that point of time, so he also thinks that maybe he fell asleep or misread something in his sleepy state. He sleeps on it, opens the game again, and plays through one more time to make sure, once again giving different answers, and once more getting the Cloudy Day therapist.

Once he confirms the weird ending and the request of deleting the file, Si looks around in the game files before finding it. His curiosity gets the better of him after a little debate with himself, and he does. Now....When he boots up the game again he is NOT expecting to see Miguel at all, and he certainly wasn't expecting to be talked to directly. He almost yelps and turns off the game again, but something pulls his attention to the new development and tells him to stop and hear him out. Maybe he's overacting and this is just really good...specific writing? So he plays on, almost exhausting each available line of dialogue Miguel has for him, even replaying them a few times before Miguel acknowledges what he's doing and gives him the whole 'oh, you're testing me and my loyalty' speech. And...he has to admit, he does feel a little bad for the character by that time....that is until he hits the nsfw route and gets WAY MORE flustered than he should've been. And yes....he played both routes. ovo

By the end of it, he gets the ending where Miguel resolves to break out of the game for him, and he's left confused when all that loads after is a glitched screen. He does some more digging in the files and finds some "easter eggs" from Miguel, getting flustered at two of the special pictures hidden in the files. Curiouser, Si- seemingly out of a whim- decided to read the game's script...and his stomach drops when he notices little notes hidden in the game's files from Miguel- even down to the nsfw scenes. Before he can really react or fully process that this could be real, there's a knocking at his door..... Miguel came to find him just like he said he would. :)

That's all I really have for now since it's been a hot minute since I thought about how this would work given what we have with the current demo, but as you can see it's a really fun premise to play with!

[trigunsbbygirl]

This is just a vent fic that I've decided to post so

content: description of panic/ anxiety attack, apathy, refusing to feel and cry

again really just a fic I made to try and comfort myself lol

It's cold out. You're away from the small camp, away from the others, laying on the sand. The stars twinkle brightly above you, yet you don't focus on it. They don't fill you with that same sense of awe and wonder that other get or dread of the vastness that you live in. The stars are just there, they invoke no feeling within you. Nothing really does anymore.

It's silent out. There isn't any wind to break the silence and everyone is asleep at the camp. It's just you, the stars and the sand. It feels so nice, you almost wish the sand could engulf you and keep you in this moment forever. You'd no longer have to live in dull hollowness, acting like things are happy.

However footsteps break up the comfort of the silence and you frown a little. They come closer until they stop, but you don't move to look. You have a feeling you know who it is already. There's a bit of shuffling as the person sits down next to you much to your dismay.

It's silent for a minute before they speak up. "I was wondering where you went. It's pretty late out, I was a little worried," Vash says softly, not wanting to disrupt the quiet even more. He looks down at you, studying your face for a moment. He's never seen your eyes look so.. lifeless. It's worrying, scary even. Vash always knew there was something going on with you, but not to this extent. You're not even acknowledging him. He looks away to the night sky, thinking of what to say or do.

Vash breaks the silence once again a few minutes later, gently saying, "You know you can talk to me about anything, right?"

You don't respond for a second and Vash waits patiently for you, letting you take the time you need. Yet as he turns his head to look at you, you only respond with a quiet 'nothing is wrong.' You can feel his gaze on you, but you don't look at him, don't bother giving him a better answer because nothing really is wrong. You aren't hurt or sad, so there's nothing to worry about. Clenching your hand, focusing on the way the sand moves around in your fist, you ignore the way your chest clenches and tugs. You know that Vash knows your response was a lie and you don't know how to feel about Vash potentially peering deeper and seeing everything you've hidden away.

Vash hums and looks back up to the stars. A pang of fear flashes through you, that you've disappointed Vash by not being honest, but no matter how much you wish to open up to him, to tell him all your troubles, something within you forces you to keep your mouth shut. Your breathing gets heavier and slower as you try to null the heaviness that starts to weigh on your chest. You clench at the sand again, trying to ignore the pressure while also wishing it would go away. It consumes your chest, yet you feel no panic, no worry or sadness, you briefly wonder if this is your body's way of feeling for you.

Vash notices your discomfort, the way your breathing had changed and turns to look at you once more a reassuring smile on his face even though you refuse to look at him. "It's alright," he starts softly, "You don't have to be okay. You don't have to pretend that everything is okay with me. You're safe."

You bite back the urge to call Vash a hypocrite, knowing it's just a defensive to try and push him away. You don't actually want to hurt him, he's just trying to help. The thought sends a wave of guilt through you. He's trying to help you and yet, you can't say anything to him. Removing your hand from the sand, you open your mouth to say anything about what's going on, but all that comes out is a pathetic 'yeah.' At that, a bitter smile crosses your face. That's not what you wanted to say.

Beside you, you can hear Vash shuffle around a little and all of the sudden you feel Vash's hand against yours. Your hand flinches away out of surprise and Vash immediately pulls his hand away, apologizing. Before Vash completely pulls his hand away and before you even complete register what you're doing, you raise your pinky finger up, silently hoping Vash gets the idea of what you're asking for. Thankfully, he does, slowly wrapping his pinky around yours.

His finger is warm, it feels so nice compared to the coldness you're used to living with. Your throat tightens, it's getting harder to breath. Rolling onto your side, you have to let go of Vash's finger. However, you decide to fully hold onto Vash's hand, seeking that comforting warmth. You hide your face in your other arm, not wanting Vash to see you.

He squeezes your hand gently. "It's okay. You can cry." Vash says. You nod yet you don't cry, can't, like you've forgotten how to. You only curl further into a ball, trying to focus on getting rid of that tightness in your throat that won't go away. Tears do form in your eyes but they don't slide down your cheeks and there's no urge to sob. Just a dull pressure behind your eyes, sadness, fear and guilt.

You squeeze Vash's hand, trying to handle the emotions and feelings going through you and Vash squeezes back. For now, you'll allow yourself to peak at this tide of emotions, let Vash view it as well, but come tomorrow, you won't acknowledge what happened. You've allowed yourself this twinge of true emotion and that's enough. Perhaps one day you'll be able to handle them, and perhaps you'll even let Vash in once again.

[cruzrogue]

Catfished

Summary: Felicity/Oliver (olicity)

Catfishing is a deceptive activity in which a person creates a fictional persona or fake identity on a social networking service, usually targeting a specific victim.

Summary:

Felicity knows she’s being catfished as the guy behind the screen is using pictures of a guy who is known to be dead. Oliver finding himself using social media to connect to a girl who seems interesting while using his real image knowing everyone thinks him dead. She doesn’t call him out and he doesn’t own up to be the guy who really isn’t dead. Their online chats are innocent enough… that is until a close ally to Oliver calls him out when a picture of a spunky Felicity is found.

***Before posting to A03 Going to post first chapter here***

Chapter 1 Oliver’s secret

Oliver’s name is being called out. He’s in his own head and hasn’t heard the voice calling out for him. Instead…

A hidden photo that Oliver has had for a few years before his return to Starling City is clenched tightly. A photo of a girl that amazingly helped him in some tough times unlike the photo of his ex-girlfriend who brought guilt of things left undone.

Retrieving it from a page in his father’s book of names. He makes sure to hide Laurel’s image as Oliver doesn’t even glance at it placing it back within the pages. In purposely not glancing at that old image that brings a pull in his chest to think the sister of an old flame was lost like him. To find darkness and somehow return in different ways back home.

In the last few months since this lost sister of a woman he’s tried to make amends with is back. They’ve rekindled a relationship of sorts. Sara knows him enough. They have an understanding. Both seeking some comfort in each other. Otherwise, he feels like he isn’t worthy of any other companionship.

Oliver’s eyes scanning the simple photo from an array of pictures username SmokeNFox sent him it was this particular one he needed to print out. Glad he was able to find a printer back when he required it. A crack of a small smile graces his face as he recalls tiptoeing around the makeshift A.R.G.U.S. base to download from the social site to get this snapshot of an incredibly hot girl who texted some very outrageous things. Her pauses in conversation to vent how she can’t believe she wrote what she wrote. The sincerity not lost on him. He may have not heard her voice until his stint in Russia when they reconnected online again.

Oliver mentally documented her voice. Not in his wildest dreams would he think he’d hear it down eighteen flights of stairs from where Walter Steele mentioned Felicity Smoak would be someone to talk about electronics Oliver needed fixed.

SmokeNFox was at Queen Consolidated and to behold Felicity in person was… is the most incredible surprise the universe could ever throw at him. Reaching out to Ms. Smoak was no hardship at all. Her energetic personality ate him up alive. Trying to be aloof to her charm gets harder and harder and it irks him that John Diggle can read him out like that every single time.

At least John has no clue about his true first time he interacted with Felicity “SmokeNFox” Smoak.

Glimpsing at a face that brought a levity in his past journeys back to where he is now. After convincing Maseo in Hong Kong that he would not continue to jeopardize this man’s family. He got to sit down with a laptop which of course was being monitored but it was nice to have some technology at his fingertips. After the usual thing on checking up on his mother and sister and even Tommy. Since the whole ordeal of almost having his best friend killed it was good to know Tommy Merlyn was fine and alive back in Starling City.

Being lonely as evidently shown when Maseo and his wife Tatsu would leave him to the contraption that he is using to navigate the internet. A simple website of ambiguity. The thought of talking to someone outside the restrictive bubble seemed like a grand idea. It took a short bit to figure on a usable username. Kind of lame but doable. He logged in. Answering the site’s interests that he wants to partake in. Simple in fact. He is a male looking for a female. Basic stuff he thinks. Clicking buttons on what personality traits he seems to prefer.

His likes don’t always go hand in hand with what he accepts in real life but here he is in a world of make believe. He knows he wants to mingle with someone on par with what he always imagined would be the best thing ever. No strings attached. Just be raw as natural as he could be and know he couldn’t emotionally get hurt. A person on the other side of a keyboard could not elicit any deep feelings. Thus, Oliver decides to take a leap of faith and bare himself. What does he have to lose? He’s survived some dark shit so far.

And clicking the agree to terms. BeeMyQueen is now able to roam the site to find someone of interest to engage with. 

The voice calling out to him finally gets his attention.

He knows it is too late to hide what is in his grasp. It’s a wonderful picture he finds himself unable to tear away as it elicits a rare smile to form on his face. Glad this portrait of a girl has persisted the journey with him.  A spunky edgy college age girl is looking back at him. Those eyes always had him mesmerized.

Till finding Felicity in the flesh, he always wondered if that crazy stunt of talking to a random girl online was really of the girl, he’s had some far-out fantasies about in some darker times while trying to stay alive. 

“What do you have there, Ollie?”

Sighing at being unable to hide the picture as fast as he should have Sara is already snatching the picture from his now loosen grip.

Her gasp is all it takes to know he is in trouble.

“Hot damn! This can’t be the same girl.” Sara keeping Oliver from getting the photo back as she moves her body away from his, “Not our blondie.” She is making a whistling sound.

“Sara!”

His tone has her jest, “Does she know?”

“Know what?”

“You have a pretty exotic picture of her?”

“Nothing exotic about it.” He reaches over and lucky gets the picture of Felicity Smoak back into his possession.

“How did you come across getting that photo?”

“It’s a long story.”

“While we wait for the perpetrator on that list of yours, I think I can do with an over dramatic Queen story.”

“Fine, but you need to promise me you’ll never tell Felicity about this?”

“Oh, this is some deep…” Sara looking at his hand where a photo is clutched securely.

“Sara?”

“Ollie!” She replies while rolling her eyes.

“Felicity can’t know about this. It would make everything even more tense between us.”

“You have the hots for her.”

“It isn’t like that?”

Sara gives him a dire look as her hands plant themselves on her hips. Giving the illusion she knows more than he is admitting to.

“She deserves better.”

“Better than what?”

“Felicity is…” He takes a few extra seconds before adding, “She’s like sunshine on a darken day. I can’t hurt her. She’s special.”

“Special? And what? I’m chopped liver?”

He huffs, “You know what I mean.”

“Yep, I do. We’re comfort and we have an understanding. It is what makes us…us.”

“I won’t tell the story if you don’t promise to keep it to yourself.”

“Really… Ollie?” Seeing he isn’t budging. “Fine, Oli-ver.”

Oliver looks down at the picture of Felicity Smoak. One taken before she graduated M.I.T. in 2009.

“You promise?”

“My gosh, relax old man. I promise.”

It takes a dragged out look between them for Oliver to relax and begin a tale of how the picture of a Goth Felicity Smoak came into his possession.

[fullcry]

Update (sort of)

I WILL get around to posting a proper update schedule soon. I'm in the process of trying to get my Patreon page up and running, so hopefully I'll be able to get those two things going concurrently.

Tentatively, updates will probably be in this order: Truth of Memory, Ch 4 (final chapter) > Either "Jacket Fic" longshot or untitled NSFW multichap Ch 1/4 > Love and Peace and Gunsmoke, Ch 2

A note about my Love and Peace and Gunsmoke: part of why an update may be a ways off is... I lost chapter five. 5k words of the hardest stuff to write: difficult conversations, character development, action scenes, multiple locations... I still haven't recovered. The prospect of rewriting it all is DAUNTING. And I need to finish it before I can go back and edit chapters 2-4, since it's the end of the first arc and needs to align properly for the next. So... thank you for your patience while I'm on the struggle bus.

Speaking of the untitled NSFW multichap, please have a WIP sneak peek because I'm hopeless and need to vent excitement. Be sure to subscribe to my AO3 pseud for updates! (because there will be a lot this year, RIP my free time)

UNTITLED NSFW VASH/MERYL WIP EXCERPT (below the cut!)

She had spent the long hours in that room thinking and preparing herself for the eventuality—told herself it was just sex, just a bodily function (albeit an intimate one). She’d spent long enough keeping her feelings for him hidden, and this was just an extension of that. It didn’t need to mean anything more and didn’t need to change their relationship. And at the end… she’d still felt that way. She’d been ready to move on, keep laughing, keep smiling, put the incident in a box and continue being just friends.

She hadn’t been prepared for this, though—this cold shoulder, this painful distance—and she feels unconscionably foolish for not having considered his feelings, for not having considered that just because it needed to happen didn’t mean he was prepared.

Though she isn’t quite sure what specifically his feelings on the matter are since he hasn’t said a word about what happened and pointedly ignored her attempts to do so.

She sighs and trails dutifully behind him. They’ve long since left the dormitories behind, for which she is thankful, and he leads her through a series of dark maintenance tunnels. Like the main hallways these too are lit by emergency lights but given the narrowness of the tunnels and the array of pipes and wires and panels along the wall hiding the light strip from view, it’s significantly dimmer. They move single file and her hands trail along walls on either side for support—the grate upon which they walk is uneven in places, seeming to have bent with the force of the crash.

She can see the brighter light of a hallway ahead and sighs in relief, matching Vash’s quickening pace. But before they get out, her hand snags on something sharp and she jerks it back, hissing. She can feel blood seeping into her glove, trailing down her wrist. Pain pulses sharply along her index finger, and she knows its a deep cut.

“Are you alright?”

Now he talks to her. She refrains from saying something snappy and unkind, and instead says, “Yeah—just a cut. Can you grab some gauze from my pack?”

She turns around to give him access to the bag strapped to her back and holds her finger tightly to stem some of the blood flow. She hears the zipper and can feel him rummaging around, and a moment later he taps her shoulder. She turns back around and pulls her hand away from her finger to take the roll of gauze but he ignores her, reaching for her hand instead. She lets him, holding her breath and watching with surprise as gently disinfects the wound and holds her by the palm as he wraps three layers around the cut, tying it off gently. He still doesn’t look at her.

“Vash—“ she begins, more insistent this time.

“Not… not here,” he says, and she can hear in his voice that just saying those words is an emotional effort. It’s clear he knows what she wants to bring up, and she feels some relief that he has finally acknowledged what happened, even if indirectly.

“When we get back to ship three?” she asks, or rather, requests. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, gently releasing her hand as he tucks the roll of gauze into a jacket pocket. Then, he nods, and turns back around, heading for the hallway.

[downwiththeficness]

The Usurper-Chapter Eleven

Summary: Lilah McNamara stole things for a living. It was tedious work and often dangerous, which made it just exciting enough to keep her interested. After botching a routine job, Lilah finds herself standing amid monsters. Wholly unprepared for the horror of living under Amaru’s reign, Lilah decides to use her well honed skills to thwart the queen’s plans and prevent the end of the world.

Word Count: ~5,000

Disclaimer: I do not consent to this work being copied or posted to other sites of blogs.

Start at the Beginning Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Read on AO3 Masterlist

Lilah stood between two arguing friends, hoping that they would come to a decision quickly. The room was blazing with heat and sweat was beginning to form at her hairline. She scowled up at the vent that was doing nothing to cool the room. It had stopped working some time that day and now it only stirred the muggy air. Absently, she fanned herself with her notebook and listened to a back and forth that repeatedly circled the same core argument.

“She needs to be there,” Javier asserted levelly, “It will be good for them to see you together.”

“I’m not taking my bondmate into a nest of culebras. They’re too volatile.”

“Its an important ceremony and you know that. Bondmates are expected to attend important ceremonies.”

Brasa’s lip curled, “Not when she can’t defend herself.”

Javier’s smile was devious, “That’s what you’re there for. Or, do you think you won’t be able to protect her?”

Lilah’s brows hit her hairline in surprise. She took a step back and watched carefully for Brasa’s reaction. He was staring down at Javier with black eyes that glinted in the low light. Lilah could almost sense the battle that was being fought inside him, pride and caution at odds with one another. He blinked and said something low and venomous that she couldn’t translate. The words were sharp and jagged, but Javier seemed to perfectly understand. His smile widened, “Of course, my lord.”

Brasa blinked and all the anger went out of him. He turned to Lilah, “Stay beside me. Don’t wander. When I have to help Amaru, you stay with Javier.” He stepped into her space, “You do as we say, when we say it. No questions. No objections.”

Faced with the intensity of Brasa’s words, all Lilah could do was nod. His eyes searched her face for sincerity and seemed to find it. Then, he took her hand and guided her out of the bedroom and down the hall. He took the left again, towards the entrance. Instead of taking the semi-straight path up, he made another left and the ground tilted down.

Lilah did as she always did when Brasa took her into the deep dark. She held onto his hand and followed blindly. She could hear their footsteps echoing off the walls, and her breaths were loud as they moved in and out of her lungs. For a while, that was all she could hear, Then, faintly, came a hum. Low. Droning. Lilah tried to listen more closely, but it wasn’t a sound she recognized.

Slowly, the darkness shrank back from a wavering orange light. She squinted at it until her eyes adjusted and she recognized the flicker of a fire. The droning continued, louder now that Lilah was standing in the entrance. Hidden behind Brasa’s broad shoulders, she peeked into the room with curiosity.

The stone walls curved around in a circle. At the far end was a stone that was roughly carved into a rectangle. Behind it was a mural that was painted in deep brown tones. Hands reaching up towards a massive sun. Lilah thought she saw a jewel glinting in the center. A fire burned, tall and blazing. The dry heat seemed to suck all the air out of the room.

People milled around, casting shadows on the stone floor. They looked like anyone else. Just people. Except for the fact that some of them, at least five or six, were lined up at the far end of the room in front of the rectangular stone. They were on their knees and their hands were tied behind their back. Their bodies were naked and there was something black and slick and shining smeared all over. Eyes stared blankly upwards towards a massive opening in the rock. Their heads were tilted all the way back and their mouths were wide open, as if caught on a scream. Lilah realized that they were the ones making the sound and that knowledge twisted in her stomach.

Javier appeared in her periphery, “Head up. Meet their eyes. Don’t show weakness.”

Having said what he needed to say, Javier stepped back behind them in silence. Lilah took his advice and lifted her head. She scanned the room with as little emotion as she could, intentionally holding the gazes of those who were bold enough to stare. One or two, she recognized from the parking lot of the hotel, but most were strangers.

Brasa stepped forward and the group rippled away from him. They pushed to the walls, leaving a wide path around the fire. Any conversation stopped and all that was left in its wake was the dull droning. Brasa kept walking until they neared the ones who knelt. In the last few feet, he had to pull firmly on Lilah’s hand. She chanced a quick look at his face and found it impassive and stony. The animation she’d gotten used to over the last few day was long gone, replaced by a distant and remote being of dark and ancient power.

No sooner had they taken their place did Amaru emerge from the darkness. She was wearing a sweater and jeans and her hair was braided on either side of her head. Eyes painted in black smoke looked around unhappily before she began a slow walk across the room. Her legs carried her smoothly from the entrance around the circle of the fire. Unlike with Brasa, the other people in the room seemed to gravitate towards Amaru. They pushed close, but didn’t reach out and touch. Amaru ignored them. Her focus rested solely on the ones kneeling near the fire. There was a ghost of a smile on her painted lips. It made the hair on Lilah’s arms stand on end.

Lilah expected her to say something—make some kind of speech or announcement. She expected a ceremony, of sorts, with an accompanying ritual. That was what usually happened in the documents she’d been reading. Lots of pomp and circumstance followed by bloodletting. What she didn’t expect was for Amaru to walk right up to one of the people droning on the floor and reach down their throat all the way to the elbow.

Bile burned on her tongue. Lilah had to swallow several times to get it back down again. The sight before her was disgusting, but she somehow felt that turning away would be a bad move. There were just as many eyes watching her as there were watching Amaru. Looking for what Lilah was absolutely feeling. Looking for weakness. She focused on her breathing and tried to pretend she wasn’t seeing anything at all while the droning rose in volume. It stabbed at her ears, but at least it covered the sound of Amaru digging around in someone’s esophagus.

From her victim’s throat, Amaru pulled a three foot long snake that was hissing and whipping its tail. It struggled in Amaru’s grip, flashing its fangs in the firelight. Amaru stared at it dispassionately, then reached with her free hand to snap its head clean off its body. The droning swelled to a roar before compressing back down on itself so that it was nothing more than a low buzz. Lilah’s jaw clenched against the sudden ringing in her ears. Her legs wobbled and she was glad that Javier hadn’t insisted she change into a dress and heels. The nearby fire was burning through the jeans and t shirt she’d thrown on that morning and the ground felt unstable beneath her sneakers.

Amaru threw the decapitated snake into the fire and held its head aloft. Words came from her lips with no inflection whatsoever. Then, she pushed the head into her mouth and chewed. Again, Lilah had to swallow back bile. The volume of the drone lowered and she wished it hadn’t. Lilah could hear the crunching of skin and bone from between Amaru’s teeth. Blood poured from her mouth. She smiled and spit into the fire. Around the room came a violent cheer as the culebras bared their fangs at her.

Over and over, the process was repeated, until all Amaru’s sacrifices were laying dead at her feet. She spit into the fire one final time and it billowed towards the opening above. Lilah craned her neck to follow the path of the flames, wondering if anyone would be able to see it topside. The fire burned high and hot, a tower that cut through to the night sky. Lilah felt the air being sucked out of her lungs, leaving her faintly gasping for breath.

A low growl replaced the incessant drone. Lilah turned her attention to the room, wondering what could possibly follow Amaru’s gruesome display. Brasa let go of her hand and stepped forward. She had to stop herself from lunging for it, needing the safety of his protection. The absence of his palm against hers left her feeling entirely too vulnerable. Lilah could feel Javier move closer, but refused to acknowledge him. She kept her eyes on Brasa and her hands folded in front of her. The palms were sweaty and Lilah knew that she was visibly shaking. There wasn’t a meditative practice in the world that could have helped her calm the tremors in her body. It was a miracle she was still standing upright.

Amaru walked in a circle, eyeing their audience. She took her time, peering at each of them until a little smile crept across her face. Lilah watched her petite hand rise and point at a woman with long dark hair and eyes that were suddenly filled with fear. She began to plead in a tone that Lilah recognized. High pitched. Desperate. This woman was begging for her life.

What now? Lilah thought, swallowing down the urge to ask the question aloud.

A man began to speak in rapid Spanish, gesturing wildly. Lilah could hear bits and pieces of it as his voice rose above the growl of the others. He was attempting to bargain with Amaru, offering himself in her place. The smile dropped from Amaru’s expression and she backhanded him into the wall. He fell to the ground in a crumpled heap. Amaru barely spared him a second of her attention. She grabbed the woman by the hair and dragged her towards Brasa. The woman screamed the whole way.

Lilah’s gaze flicked over to Brasa. He wasn’t moving, but his eyes followed Amaru’s movements. Though his face was still expressionless, she could sense that he was upset. A little crease formed between his brows as Amaru dragged the woman over to his feet. His head tilted down, waiting patiently for the woman to look up at him. Lilah’s gaze flicked back and forth between them while a sense of dread welled up from somewhere deep in her belly. Something awful was about to happen and Lilah was just going to have to stand there and let it.

Gathering her limbs beneath her, the woman pushed back onto her heels. Lilah admired the way she met Brasa’s eyes. She was clearly terrified, but there was courage underneath her fear. The growl around the room got louder, until it pounded in her ears. Something like electricity moved through each and every person, until the air vibrated with ominous fervor. Lilah’s mouth went dry and her throat closed around a strangled sound that might have been a cry for mercy.

Amaru leaned down and whispered something into the woman’s ear, and then her hand appeared from within a chest that was suddenly cracked open. Blood exploded from the wound and the woman screamed. The sound of it rang in Lilah’s ears. As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t look away from the fingers curled around impossibly red muscle. Amaru laughed and pulled her arm back through the woman’s chest and out past the spine that was bent forward in a useless effort to protect, taking a heart with her. It was still beating.

Lilah wavered backwards, only held in place by Javier’s hand as it pressed against the small of her back. Her mind struggled against this new atrocity, unwilling to accept that she was witness to it. Amaru held the heart above her mouth and squeezed. Lilah’s eyes finally closed as Amaru’s mouth filled to overflowing with viscous red. She had to work hard to stop the urge to vomit all over the floor at her feet. When Lilah could open her eyes again, the only safe place she could look was Brasa’s back. He was kneeling in front of the still alive woman. Her eyes rolled around in her head and her mouth moved repetitively. Her hand lifted and Lilah caught the familiar beads of a rosary hanging from her wrist.

Brasa removed a glove and carefully placed his hand over the wound. Bright orange weaved its way from his forearm to the tips of his finger and into the woman’s chest. Lilah watched it follow the path of her veins until it burst through the pores of her skin. The fire inside her body was brighter than the one to Lilah’s right. The woman was set alight and burned to ash in half a second. One bright, dazzling flame that fizzled to nothing.

Standing, Brasa pulled his glove back on and waited while Amaru pieced out the woman’s heart to the others. She tore at it with her fingers, ripping muscle into tiny bite sized chunks. One by one, culebras knelt at her feet so that she could place an inch or so of bleeding flesh on her tongue. Right up until the man who’d argued with her woke up. He snarled and ripped his hair, loosing an agonized scream that was filled with grief and anger. Amaru regarded him with a sardonic look and held what was left of the heart out to him in offering. Breathless, the man snapped his fangs at her and rushed forward.

Lilah had seen some ass kickings in her line of work. She’d even seen people play with their opponents from time to time. Watching Amaru knock the man around with one hand while the other held a mutilated heart was more pathetic than any bar fight. She let him rage at her over and over, from every side, all with that shit eating smile on her face.

Eventually, Amaru got tired of her game and grabbed the man by his neck. She held him down while she pushed the woman’s heart into his mouth until he had to swallow. Then, she let him get up one more time before kicking him hard in the chest. His body flew through the fire and into the dark hall. When he didn’t emerge, she sent someone after him. After that, the energy in the room dissipated quickly. The crowd filed out with eyes that kept looking back at Amaru. Lilah, too, looked at her, wondering just what she’d accomplished with her ‘ceremony’. She remembered that Javier said it was important, but Lilah didn’t understand what was so important about ripping people apart one by one.

Brasa’s spoke first, “That isn’t how we do things.”

Amaru rolled her eyes, “That wasn’t how we do things. We’re not in Xibalba, anymore. The old rules don’t apply.”

“I would say,” he countered, “that the old rules apply more because we aren’t in Xibalba.”

“You’ve always been so old fashioned,” Amaru griped while she began to kick dirt at the fire, “Try something new, for a change.”

Brasa almost scoffed, “There is an order to things. You can’t hope to gain their loyalty if you kill their bondmates.”

Lilah just barely stifled a gasp. She now understood why the man was so enraged and why that rage was touched with such resounding grief. Amaru had taken from him the best thing about his life. And, she’d laughed about it.

“He is nothing,” Amaru said with a wave of her hand, “The others will bring him to heel. If they can’t, they’ll kill him.”

Brasa’s gaze narrowed, “Are you sure about that?”

Amaru smiled wide and kicked a huge wave of dirt over the fire, “Absolutely. Besides, what does he have to live for, now? With any luck, he’ll off himself before the others have the chance.”

Brasa drew back a little. He jerked a nod in Amaru’s direction, “I have other tasks to attend to.” He backed away from Amaru and reached for Lilah with a muted ‘my queen’. This time, he didn’t have to pull on her hand to get her to walk with him.

They moved in silence until they reached the bedroom. Brasa let Lilah walk in ahead of him and turned to say something to Javier. The shorter man nodded and rushed away without a word, leaving Brasa and Lilah alone together.

She didn’t know what to say, let alone what to feel. There was a faint tremor in her body that made her want to pace the room. She settled to wandering over to the bathroom and leaning over the sink to splash cool water over her face. The air conditioning appeared to be working now, but her body still felt too hot. Lilah rested on her elbows while the nausea she’d been suppressing washed over her with dizzying effect.

“Are you alright?” Brasa asked with hesitation. Lilah turned her head and glared at him silently. “No, of course you’re not. Take all the time you need. I’ll wait for you out here.”

It was a while before Lilah could stand upright. It was a while after that before she felt like she could breathe normally again. In the mirror, her reflection was frazzled and ashen. Lilah didn’t know if she’d ever seen her eyes so wide or so terrified. She barely recognized herself.

After quickly running her hands over her face, Lilah took a shuddering breath and walked into the bedroom where Brasa was waiting for her, “What the fuck was that?”

“It doesn’t usually happen that way.”

“What doesn’t happen that way?” Lilah demanded, feeling anger replace her fear.

“The ceremony,” he answered. “is meant to welcome new members. Its meant to instill unity.”

Her lip curled, “By pulling snakes out of people like some kind of disturbed magic trick?”

Brasa’s head dipped down and to the side, “She was supposed to put them back.”

“Put them back?!” she squawked.

“That’s what is supposed to happen.”

Lilah stared at him with her mouth open, “Alright. Let’s set that aside for a second. What about the heart? Was she going to put that back, too?”

“No,” he replied lowly. “What Amaru did was unconscionable.”

She stepped up to him, made sure he was listening to every word she said, “You still went along with it. You didn’t stop her for a single second.”

“I can’t stop her.”

Lilah leaned closer, “You can’t stop her, but you can set her victim on fire.”

Brasa’s expression softened, “It was a mercy.”

“A mercy she didn’t have to need.” Lilah wasn’t going to let this go. Her capacity to accept the horrors around her was past its limit and someone had to answer for it.

“It was the only thing I could do.”

“No, it wasn’t. I know it wasn’t.”

His mouth thinned, “You don’t know anything, Lilah. And, your moral judgments aren’t welcome.”

“At least I have morals.”

The temperature in the room shot up, “This coming from a thief.” Lilah paused and Brasa moved to fill the silence, “You think you’re the only person who has done research? You’re discreet, I’ll give you that. But, I am persistent. Tell me, how much did that job in Prague pay? Did you get just your salary, or did you get the pay for the whole team?”

Lilah’s jaw clenched around a shame she thought she buried deep enough that it would never see the light of day again. “I think I’ll take a page out of your own book and consider that you might not know anything about Prague.”

“I know four people walked into that building and only one person walked out.”

She didn’t want to talk about it, much less with Brasa. “What happened during that job was out of my control.”

“And, what happened at that ceremony was out of mine.”

“What does she have over you?” Lilah asked. “What could she possibly have that would force you to be so…” she searched for the word, “weak?”

Brasa stared at her. Then, without a word, he turned and walked out. Lilah glared at the door while she worked to suppress her unwanted emotions and memories. When her jaw unclenched, she turned and walked over to a table sitting by the wall. Atop it was a couple bottles of alcohol and a few glasses. She reached for the bottle of wine and poured a healthy serving. Brasa might have hit her with a low blow, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy the vintage.

Setting the glass on the nightstand, Lilah dropped onto the bed. She was bone deep tired and wishing that she could go out and do something. All this sitting around, waiting for Javier or Brasa to spare her any little bit of their free time, was driving her crazy. She needed action. She needed challenge. She needed to steal something.

Lilah stood from the bed and grabbed her wine. She threw back the glass and sniffed. Then, before she could think twice about it, she went to the door and stepped out into the hall. It was dark, but she remembered the way. One left and then another. Down, down, down, until she reached her destination.

The fire was still smoldering in the center of the room. Smoke billowed up towards the opening in the ceiling, obscuring the stars. She moved around the room to the altar. The stone was cold under hand while she searched for seams. She knelt down and waddled in a circle around the altar, squinting in the moonlight. Nothing. It looked like the people who carved the altar hadn’t thought to hide anything inside.

Rolling backwards, Lilah sat on the ground and sighed. To her left, the mural loomed. She stared at it, wondering if it would be worthwhile to carve the whole thing from the stone and send it off to a collector. It certainly wasn’t elaborate enough to pull in the buyers who purchased relics for show, but she would guess that there was at least one person out there with an ungodly amount of money and a fascination with Mexican cave art. She’d just have to find them.

The thing in the middle of the gigantic sun caught her eye. She rolled onto her hip and leaned forward to get a better look. It was small, but there was definitely a carving in the center of the circle. She remembered thinking it was a jewel, but it wasn’t a jewel at all. It was a beveled carving that caught the light from above with a strategically placed piece of geode. Rising, Lilah lifted a hand and ran her fingertips over it. The geode had been faceted, carved by someone with more skill than she anticipated. Her fingers kept running over it, feeling the shape.

Two triangles. One pointed up. The other pointed down.

“No way,” she muttered. “No fucking way.”

Chin tilted up, Lilah peered towards the ceiling. It was too dark to really see much detail, but she thought there was writing around the rim of the opening above. Her eyes dropped to stare at the floor. There was nothing carved into the ground at her feet. A quick survey with her hands revealed no loose stones. Lilah persisted, moving methodically around the room in a slowly closing circle until she stood before the ashes of the fire.

Carefully, Lilah kicked at the leftover wood. Ambient heat seeped into her sneakers. The soles scraped against the stone, pushing plumes of smoke and ash into the air. Lilah waved it away, uncaring that some of it landed in her hair and on her arms. She kept kicking, kept shoving at it, until she got to the bottom and found a circle carved deeply into the stone. Lilah glanced up, “Opening above, opening below.”

Getting her fingers beneath the stone was difficult. Partly because the cut of the stone was so carefully crafted and partly because it was still hot from the fire. She wriggled beneath until she felt the lower edge and began to pull upwards. It was slow work, but it paid off. Lilah tugged the stone free and pushed it aside. She leaned over the hole she created to find a parcel laying in a pile of dirt. Ginger hands lifted it so that she could get a look.

Lilah peeled layer after layer of cloth away, unwinding several yards of fabric that was discolored with time. Eventually, she held a book in her hands. Bound in leather, the tome felt heavier than it should have been. She opened it carefully to find that the writing was somewhat odd. It filled the pages from top to bottom with no margins on the side. The pages didn’t turn so much as they folded out on one another in an accordion that pushed outwards like a pop-up.

She couldn’t read the writing, but she recognized the language. It was the same as the texts Javier had given Lilah to keep her busy. Ancient Xibalban. The characters were sharp flicks of the pen, slanting heavily to one side. Lilah turned the pages over, realizing that the book was meant to be read in landscape. She kept turning pages until she got to a drawing.

The thatched lines detailed a slaughter—a motif that seemed ever present in Xibalban culture. What looked like a hundred bodies were laying across an open field. In front of them stood a figure that was holding a heart to the sky. At their feet was their victim, presumably dead. Lilah’s lip curled as she connected one ritual to the other before she realized that there was something in the drawing that hadn’t happened in the ritual Amaru performed hours earlier.

Beside the triumphant figure was a clearly sketched archway. The space within it was blacked out entirely, but she could see how the artist portrayed a kind of power emanating from it with a series of lines at that burst from the archway in all directions. This was the doorway Brasa talked about. This was what Amaru was trying to achieve.

Lilah closed the book, thinking that she had to hide it. She had to keep it from Amaru at all costs. Maybe she should burn it, destroy any hope of Amaru getting her hands on the knowledge it contained. Yes, that was what she would do. Lilah knew that it was the only way to ensure that her world and Xibalba remained forever separate.

After putting the stone back into place and arranging the ashes over it, Lilah hustled back to the bedroom. She knew there was nothing there that could light the book aflame, but there might be in the worker’s area. Not wanting to be caught red-handed, Lilah slipped the book under the bed and went about sliding down the hall and into the massive cavern where Amaru would soon hold court.

It had been updated in recent weeks. The makeshift bridge was now a softly arching stone walkway. Lights hung from the ceiling, casting a cool glow over the area. Along the far wall was an empty desk. Lilah moved past all of this with the singular focus of finding a lighter, or a matchbook, even a blowtorch would work.

She entered the worker’s area silently. The tables had been moved around and a massive wooden bar sat in their place. Behind it, a mirrored shelf reflected her ash covered, frazzled face. Lilah only took about three seconds to recognize the determined look in her eye before she ducked behind the bar to dig around.

“Aha!” she cried softly. A package of cigarettes had been left behind. Tucked into the plastic wrapping was a lighter that sparked to life when she thumbed the flint.

Quickly, Lilah padded back to the bedroom and close the door behind her. She listened for a moment, in case Brasa had come back or Javier stopped in to check on her. Lilah was, blessedly, alone. She scrambled over to the bed and grabbed the book from its hiding spot. With its weight cradled against her chest, she went to the bathroom and shut herself inside.

On her knees, Lilah set the book in the tub and opened it up to expose the pages. There was no hesitation in flicking the lighter and holding the flame against them. At first, she thought she had misjudged the angle and that’s why they wouldn’t burn. After a few adjustments, Lilah got fed up and held the book aloft so that she could light it from below.

The pages wouldn’t burn. It didn’t matter how long she let the flame sit against them or which page she chose. They simply wouldn’t burn. Lilah gave in to the urge to throw the book down with a curse. She rested her forearms on the edge of the tub and stared at it.

What kind of book has pages that don’t burn? She thought. The answer came to her immediately, A magic one, you idiot.

If Lilah couldn’t destroy it, then she was going to have to hide the thing. Amaru could never know that it existed if she wanted her world to survive. She couldn’t tell Brasa, either. Not that she was going to talk to him again any time soon. She didn’t much care how he found out about Prague, but Lilah wouldn’t stand for her mistakes to be used against her whenever he was losing an argument. In any case, he didn’t know shit about what happened that day and Lilah certainly wasn’t going to fill him in. She didn’t owe him her secrets.

Rising, Lilah grabbed the book and went back to the bedroom where she put it back under the bed. She eyed the empty glass of wine on the nightstand, saying, “Fuck it. I’ve had a hard day. Time to get drunk.”

[ritz-writes]

So... when I said that everything was the same in spotlight au... that includes Macaque making a deal with LBD. cuz who am I if I don't have some kind of angst hehe. Though, there are a few differences. The main one being that, when Spider Queen tries to take over the city, LBD keeps herself hidden from Wukong. This also means that he doesn't leave during season 2. At least, not at first.

This is another drabble that got way to long hhhh

Words: 1128

(Everything said in this post happens about a week after the attempted city takeover.)

By this point, Macaque's friends know Wukong is the ex and still don't rlly like him, but they can see he's trying, so they r giving him a chance. But, like I said, they have their ups and downs. At one point, they have a fight. I haven't worked out what the fight is about, but they both say things they regret later and Macaque storms off to the theater, his one place of solace (he and a few other long term actors have the codes to get in and are allowed to whenever they want). A few of his cast mates were there going over lines and immediately rush to comfort him, letting him vent out his frustrations.

Here's where the angst comes in >:))

It was well into the middle of the night when the lights flicker out, a man stepping out of the shadows, purring about how "easy it was to find the lady's little play thing."

Macaque immediately backs away in terror, knowing full well what the man was there for. Or rather, who.

(Theres like 6 people there including macaque, but i dont have any names, so I'm just gonna use letters to address them lmao)

"Uhm, excuse me sir?" A said nervously. "You can't be in here, you need to leave."

The man chuckled, ignoring them completely, his eyes zeroed in on Macaque alone. "You know, if you were trying to hide, you did quite a poor job of it."

B and C move forward, the others converging to stand in front of Macaque. "Hey, back off, man." C snapped. "You need to leave. Now."

The man raised an eyebrow, then smirked. He rushed forward and in the blink of an eye, had B and C by the throat in either hand, raising them off the floor.

Macaque pushed passed the other 3, eyes wide. "Stop!! Stop, let them go, please! I-I'll go with you, okay?"

D grabbed Macaque's arm. "Mac, are you crazy?"

Macaque ripped out of the hold, moving closer. "Let them go and I'll follow you without a fight. I'll do whatever she says, just... don't hurt them, please. " His voice was shaky, as were his hands. He thought he'd gotten away from Her years ago, thought he was free despite the feeling of chains in his dreams.

He now realized just how foolish a thought that was.

The man's grin widened. He threw B and C forward, the duo crashing to the others with a yelp. Macaque moved to help, but was stopped by and hand gripping the back of his neck, sending shivers by his spine.

"And the lamp?" The man hissed in his ear, smile ever present.

Macaque was near hyperventilating. He didn't want to do this. Gods, he did not want to see her again, but he had no choice. He had to keep his friends safe.

Shit, why did he have to go and get attached again?

E stood up, seeming just as scared as Macaque. "L-Let him go!"

The grip on his neck tightened. "The lamp, Macaque."

Macaque shut his eyes, tail curling around his leg. "I-It's at my house."

"Good. Take us there. We don't want to keep the lady waiting, now do we?"

Macaque bit his lip and summoned a portal under them. He opened his eyes long enough to see the terrified expression of his friends, B and D rushing forward, arms outstretched toward him.

He couldn't let them get hurt. He could probably--maybe--fight the man off, but he couldn't risk LBD using his friends against him.

Macaque reached into his pocket and, right before he dropped into the portal, threw his phone towards the group, praying to any god listening that they'd know who to call.

And that he'd be willing to help.

---

Wukong was surprised to see Macaque calling him. Normally they went days without talking after a fight. He honestly didn't want to answer at first, but he knew that'd probably just make things worse.

So, with a heavy sigh, he swiped answer. Before he could even speak, though, the sound of loud sobbing filled his ears, the noise coming from the background. He sat up from his couch, fur bristled. "Macaque? What's going on, who's crying?"

Someone took a deep breath, then spoke. Someone who definitely wasn't Macaque. "Sun Wukong?"

Wukong growled. "Who the hell is this. Where's Macaque."

"This is B. I'm a friend of his. He... shit this dude just came in and took him!"

Wukong jumped off the couch and ran out the door, summoning his cloud and taking off toward the city. "Took him? What do you mean? Who was it?"

"It was this weird dude in a suit, he came out of nowhere. I think Mac knew him or something. The dude said something about a-a lamp? I don't know, but he threw his phone before they left. I'm assuming he wanted us to call you."

Wukong swore under his breath, urging his nimbus to go faster. "Do you know where they went? Did the man say anything else?"

"Mac said the lamp was at his house, so he took them there. Uhm, the guy said something about a lady?"

Wukong felt cold. "A lady?" He repeated quietly.

"Y-Yeah. I think Macaque knew who he was talking about? He said 'she' at one point. I-I'm sorry, it's kind of a blur, everything happ—"

"Are you sure?" Wukong repeated, voice strained. He had to be wrong, please, he had to be wrong. "He said 'she'? Do you remember what Macaque said exactly?"

B took a shaky breath. "He said 'I'll do whatever she says.' He was trying to get him to not hurt us."

No.

Gods, he was such an idiot. How did he not see it before. People don't just come back from the dead on their own. Someone brought Macaque back, someone with a purpose. Someone who was supposed to be dead themselves.

A low growl made its way past his throat.

B spoke again. "You know what's going on, don't you?" It wasn't a question.

"Yeah," he answered. "What's his address?"

B hesitated, but only for a second. "It's ______"

"Alright. Thanks for calling me. I'll handle this."

"I'll keep his phone on me. Keep me updated."

"Sure."

"I mean it," B snapped. "You better keep me updated. I want to make sure Macaque is okay. I don't trust you, but he obviously still does. Don't let him down again. Please."

--

By the time Wukong made it to Macaque's house, there was no one there, the magical presence of the lamp faded.

The next day, Monkey King went on 'vacation.' He didn't tell B about it.

[cosmics-beings]

I don't really post fic wips on this blog but I wanted to post this one before I went to bed!

slight synopsis: starsceream tried to rekindle his relationship with megatron and surprises him aboard the lost light, megatron freaks out and wants nothing to do with him! starscream ends up sacrificing himself for megatron during a surprise attack on the lost light. this is the after math.

__

“Stay away from me,” He had said, angrily the moment Starscem entered the boarding chamber. His uncharacteristically jovial expression melting into surprise.

“Megatron, I – I just wanted to see you again and–”

“I don’t care what you want, Starscream. We are not on Cybertron, you have no rule or jurisdiction upon this vessel. I have no idea why you’ve come here but you will find no camaraderie or happiness here. I will not let you poison the new life and family I have built for myself.” 

He didn’t give Starscream a chance to respond. He’d simply brushed past him, leaving Starscream with Ultra Magnus. 

Back then, when Megatron made that decision, he was so sure of himself. He had every right to push Starcream away for all the harm the traitorous Seeker had inflicted upon him.  He had every right to hate Starscream. He had every right to let Starscream know that.

At least, that is what he’d told himself to feel better back then.  He just did not know that it would lead to this.

This painful moment in present time.

Red and black liquid stained the crinkled paper that Megatron held in his hands and his frame trembled as he gazed down at the motionless, ragged bot laying upon the decorated berth beneath him. The bot’s face was unlike what it was those years ago, when Megatron had shunned him during his failed attempt to patch up their broken relationship.

It was so different from the days of the war, when it was drenched with an expression of fear and cowardice, terrified of Megatron’s fists or blasters pounding themselves into his frame.

No, there was no fear, no conniving nature–nothing. 

It was simply Starscream or what was left of him. His optics were closed, his hands rested calmly on his abdomen and his spark was extinguished. Beneath him on the berth were a sea of red and blue flowers; even if he scoffed at sentient organic life forms, he loved flowers. That was something he tried to hide from Megatron, but when it came to his untimely demise, it was a desire that Megatron refused to let be buried with him. In fact, all of Iacon that day was draped in flowers. Flowers for their leader, who had honorably given his life to save the crew of the Lost Light, more importantly, Megatron. 

“If you do not wish to read the poem to him,” Optimus’s voice, quiet yet intruding, sounded from the very end of the dimly lit hall. “Then perhaps you leave it at his memorial statue. It will be finished it–”

“I do not wish for anyone else to read it, Prime.” Megatron’s voice too was calm, but anger was hidden in the crevasse. He turned to face Optimus, red tears staining his metallic cheeks. “I asked that no one come in here! Am I not allowed to be with my former second in command, in peace! Alone?!”

Optimus approached, slowly stepping into the light that was emitted from the upper window. He took a chance yet gently, placed a hand upon Megatron’s shoulder. 

“Megatron, you have been in here for over a day.” Optimus moved past him, gazing at Starscream himself. He saw the tear marks staining Starscream’s frame. Megatron had been standing over him, crying, mourning, unmoving. “There is to be a procession of his body from the Halls of Iacon to the Catacombs. There is a tomb waiting for him–”

“He is to be paraded around like an animal?!” Megatron snapped back. “He deserves more than that! You fools do not know how to respect him–”

“Starscream is–was the leader of Cybertron. He is no longer your second in command. It is tradition! It is what his people want! It is not about you, it is not about me–it is about him and–” Optimus ex-vented, blue optics narrowed. “He would not want us to be fighting like this. He died so you could be happy, so you could live anew. He gave you freedom, Megatron. Be happy!”

Megatron’s tears began to gather once again, nearly spilling out of the side of his optics. He could not contain his emotions.

“How can I be happy prime, when he died for me and I treated him like he was worthless? He came to that ship to make up with me and my arrogance killed him, and before that, when we served in the war together, I mistreated him! I ruined his life -I –I…” The facade of anger (and it was not much of a facade) fell like sand through Megatron’s fingers. “And I have nothing to give him in return but my tears!”

Megatron was on the verge of breaking down, and Optimus could tell. His strong, resilient frame began to tremble and instinctively, Optimus took a step forward and pulled Megatron into a hug. Arms tightening around him, Megatron leaned into the embrace, tears streaming down his face, and head resting upon Optimus’s shoulder. It was then, Megatron began to sob. He cried harder than he ever had in his life.

“Leave him the poem.” Optimus whispered through Megatron’s tears. “The one in your hand–no one has to know what is written on it, except you and Starscream. And when he awakes in the after life, one with the Allspark…then he will read it. He will know how much you cared for him. I will ensure that he is buried with it.”"

[zhimaqiu]

“Silent nights”

→ If you prefer reading on Ao3 ←

Word count: 2050

Time: Immediately post episode 10 - Lost at Sea (don't read if you haven't watched it yet)

Note: (This work is open for your interpretation. You can see what happened between the characters as platonic, romantic, whatever comes to your mind.)

Silence is the most meaningful of sounds. Some could argue it’s nothing more than absence of them, but many of us won’t be able to truly experience the state of pure silence. Most of the time, it’s just the lack of a ruling sound, a pause that brings up what was hidden so far: a heartbeat, ticking of a clock, an air vent pushing filtered air inside, even blood pumping in the fingertips and tickles of thoughts. Silent nights were the ones that gave birth to all of mankind’s stories. They let the insecurities and dreams run havoc. It’s a godly experience to be comfortable with it, but to achieve it, the person yearning for it must be at peace. And it’s hard to be at peace when the newly found happiness has been ripped from your fingertips. 

   “Put on your hood or you’ll get a sore throat.”

   Kazuki looked up at Rei as they walked to their car, alone. He touched his cold neck and pulled up the red collar. His face changed colour to blue as the lights of the ferris wheel switched again.

  “It hurts a bit already,” he answered, smiling faintly. ���Probably would be best for me to not speak for a while.”

   Rei didn’t open his mouth when he made an agreeing sound.

   The night brought cold wind with it and hid the sky's beauty in dark clouds. It was still early, but all the families in the park started heading home. Children’s laughter could be heard from every direction, even after they stopped at far end of the parking lot. The truth was, only the two of them could hear that particular sound so clearly.

   Kazuki leant on the car’s roof and sighed deeply. Miri’s seat glimpsed to him, empty. His heart shrank and pulled all the veins together with it. As blood left the furthest parts of his body, tears and wind’s cold replaced it. He curled himself on the roof and wept, but just a little.

   “I’ll drive,” said Rei, waiting beside him. His face was pale, stern. Just like a year ago.

   “Yeah.” Kazuki straightened and threw the bag, that he had on his shoulder, to the back of the car, avoiding looking at the child-seat. “I could probably get us killed. And we still have things to do.”

   The cheerfulness in his voice was unsettling. Rei ignored that and got in the car without a thought. He focused on adjusting the seat, mirror and studied the transmission for a second. It was the second time he ever decided to take the wheel of that vehicle.

  On the way to the apartment, Rei asked Kazuki to take a sore-throat medicine he’d put in the storage. He was surprised that Rei put something based on personal observation in there, but Suwa just shrugged and focused on the unusually empty road. It made him drowsy. A few times he wanted to turn on the radio, but each time something held him back. Maybe he didn’t want to make connotations to the current feelings. The silence and driving were torturous enough. Music makes suffering even worse once everything you hear seem to match the torments inside. He clenched his jaw and frowning, tried his best to not fall asleep.

   Even though he agreed that Kazuki shouldn’t talk, he glanced to the side. He was fast asleep, head resting on the taut seatbelt. A couple of blond strands got trapped underneath it. Rei lifted his right hand to wake him up, worried he could choke on the medicine, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Instead, he gently freed the strands then looked ahead. Just in time to hit the brakes as a pheasant ran across the road. Its green feathers, glistening in the car lights disappeared in the bushes as quickly as they appeared. Rei loosened the tight grip on the wheel and looked back at Kazuki, who somehow was still asleep. A small sigh of relief left his lips.

   The rest of the journey back was uneventful. Rei stopped the car, then leant forward and rested his head on the wheel, starring into an undefined spot that happened to be around Kazuki’s sleeping face. He wasn’t old, but the day of pretending drained the resilience from his skin around his eyes completely. The previous night also couldn’t be called a restful one.

   “Silent night, eh, Miri?” Rei spoke to himself. He trembled a bit when Kazuki made a wet sound with his lips and opened sticky eyes. They locked stares for a moment.

   “Oh, we’re home...” Kazuki tried to look lively as he reached back for the bag. “Aw, the pastille glued itself to my cheek. It’s numb.”

* * *

   They left the lights off. The only source of light in the living room was a digital clock's screen, announcing eight in the evening, and red indicator lights on the TV and console. Rei almost immediately grabbed a stool and reached for a package of smokes, stored on the highest shelf in a kitchen cabinet. He thought he could now lit one inside, but a sting in his chest whispering that he wants to go back to how things were, like Miri never existed, forced his legs to the balcony. Kazuki followed him, and to his surprise, he reached for a smoke, a can of beer in his hand.

   “Did you check the expiration date? It’s been months since we bought the last batch.”

   “Like hell I care,” Kazuki murmured and drank a quarter in one go. “Tastes as shitty as I remember.”

   Rei reached for the can and took a sip, looking far away. The city lights drowned in his eyes. The liquid tickled his tongue and made him wince. He avoided alcohol, but this one was especially bad.

   “It might be spoiled.” Without looking, he spilled the beer and threw the can. He missed the trash bin down below only by a few inches.

   “Aw man, that was the last one...”

  They stood in silence. The city shone with various of colours, but few reached them. Red, pink and blue flower petals, which lights had to surmount, created all sorts of fantastic shapes on their faces. Every now and then they got distorted by ember ends of cigarettes. It didn’t stay this way for long, because a strong wind set off the both of them.

   “Oh, come on, do I really can’t enjoy anything anymore?!” Kazuki lamented, trying to lit the cigarette again, but as he was saying that, it fell out of his mouth. “I’m just going to sleep. Goodnight, Rei.”

   He did a sharp turn on the heel and disappeared into the apartment. To protect from the wind, Rei squatted and hid behind the wall of flowers, the smoke back on inside his hand.

   Kazuki could barely see anything inside. In front of him was just a wall of darkness with two red eyes glancing at him. He kicked a toy on the way to the kitchen. Again, his heart shrunk and he had to close his eyes, pretending he didn't know whose toy that was.

   One night, Miri came to him and cried there’s a monster lurking at her from across the sofa. That was the night he decided to prepare a bedroom for her, despite a correct assumption of what the said monster was and he made sure to explain it to Miri. She didn’t understand the logic behind it, but if there was some explanation, no matter how unbelievable, it was enough if papa Kazuki was the one telling her that.

   He laid down on the sofa and covered himself with a blanket that smelled like a mix of Rei and Miri. Eating meals together, brushing teeth together, shopping together, day-care rides. It all appeared in his head. Miri’s smile made him smile, but it felt more like stretching skin against its natural shape. The ceiling fan above moved slowly, screeching from time to time. Every detail of the living room became clear and so each of sounds; some buzzing, ticking, even liquid moving in the fridge. He threw the blanket over his head, but now the smells were stronger and that disturbed him even more.

   He felt a gust of wind on his uncovered ankles. A light click followed it when Rei slid the glass door shut. They rested next to each other; Kazuki lying on the sofa, Rei sitting on the floor next to him.

   “It hurt so badly, you know.” Rei looked at Kazuki, who revealed his face from under the blanket and rose on his elbows. The skin under his eyes was red. “When Miri ran past me. I know it’s her mother and all, but... I guess I valued myself too highly.”

   Rei looked away again. A fair amount of time passed before he finally spoke in response.

   “I felt that once too. After we came back home on the zoo day.”

   It was an unspoken rule between them to not ask questions regarding each others’ feelings or the past. Even if one would ask about something, the other wouldn’t tell, but they knew each other well, because they always waited for the other to elaborate if they decided to speak. Kazuki waited.

   “Miri was happy to see you,” Rei continued after a small pause. “But for the first time I felt abandoned.”

   “I’m sorry,” Kazuki said quietly.

   Rei's shoulder and Kazuki’s thigh were almost touching, but the distance between the two still looked like a chasm to  the both of them.

   “I know you needed that.” Rei clenched his jaw and firsts, keeping his head low. His hair hid his face. “I also know that what I felt back then doesn’t compare to what you did so recently.”

   Kazuki lowered himself onto the floor to face him. Something was burning in his chest. He tilted his head to look at Rei’s face from a lower angle and see it more clearly.

   “Pain is pain.” He smiled. “No matter how deeply we’re cut, we thrive to eliminate it.”

   Rei was sitting in the butterfly position with his hands on his feet. To this moment, he’s been starring blankly at them, but he lifted his gaze to see Kazuki’s reddish eyes right in front of him; so big, so gentle, glittering faintly like pools of warm cheery juice with cinnamon. Traces of salty tears framing his swollen face couldn’t distort his beauty. He was beautiful. So beautiful staying true to himself and Rei before him, who couldn’t achieve even the first one. He looked away. His heart needed a moment to calm down.

   “I won’t blame you for your feelings even if I’m hurting at the same time.”

   Kazuki tried to reassure him, but Rei was far away in his mind. If thoughts could be smelled, Rei’s would be like hot copper  powder on the edge of burning. Tears started to gather in Kazuki’s eyes again. He inhaled air, trying to get rid of the cold feeling deep down his throat.

“I don’t want to lose you.”

   Whoever said that, Kazuki hugged Rei tightly. He gasped feeling his warmth around him. Something burst. Both of their shirts became wet. It took Rei a moment to realize what was going on, but he held Kazuki tightly and hid his face in the crook of his neck. He heard him speaking something. Important words, but nothing could say more than their actions. They curled up to the sofa, Kazuki closer to the back support and Rei exposing his own to the rest of the room, holding each other closely. Kazuki kept caressing Rei’s hair. It was far from gentle, but Rei didn’t comply. He didn’t speak at all.

Whatever it was, he just wanted to be close. There was no need to overthink it.

   Their breathing gradually became slower, Kazuki’s strokes softer, Rei’s hands, held between his and Kazuki’s chests, warmer. They tangled their legs together and threw the blanket over them. Only then Kazuki noticed the silence disappeared. Air coming in and out of Rei’s lungs occupied the space. He wrapped his arms around him the same way he used to do that to Miri. Whatever the future was, at least Rei was here. For the time being, as Rei was yet to tell him.