#the bottom two are concept scribbles i might make into full things if i have the energy

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

hes so silly and tortured. i hope he gets violent

[hows-my-handwriting]

Is This a Bad Dream? (spiderverse!LN au)

so..... i have this.... au... right........

lets be real i have too many aus

its Little Nightmares but Spiderverse characters.

BEFORE YOU VOTE: read below the cut i just want to make this intro part short lol. whats below the cut is very long btw so. you have been warned XD

SO. with the recent (not so recent anymore but at the time it was recent lol) announcement of ln3 i lost my mind and went back to watch playthroughs of ln2 and got my googily little gears turning.

im thinking about this very much like an actual little nightmares game if not a little longer than the average game. (eg. 10 chapters instead of the usual 5). the main playable character is miles, and your party is the rest of the kids, mainly gwen, but with pav and hobie to help with puzzles or specific skills.

concept designs for the party + margo and peni. (might change miles and pavitr's designs cuz not sure i like them.

i have most of the bosses figured out and the general pace and timeline of the story but setting and the final two bosses are giving me problems.

anyway here's an excerpt:

It was always night time. 

Miles could sit in his window and watch the sky all day, but it would always stay dark. The lights outside were bright enough so he could see, but the sky was always gray. Or sometimes black. He leans against the glass sometimes just to try to see the sky clearer. 

Sometimes the sky would come down to him. The clouds would crawl out of the sky and walk on the streets with footsteps that sounded like the pitter patter of his own little feet. It would walk on the roof sometimes too. He could hear its feet stomping on the sharp shingles. He wondered if it hurt. 

The ceiling would cry if the sky stomped on it too much. Drops of water would run out of the holes in the white paint and into the buckets littered around his room. There were only two, one was empty right now, the other was full. They were lovely little things- well, they were actually quite big. Miles climbed inside them sometimes, perfectly sized to curl up on their rounded bottoms. 

He drank his house’s tears sometimes. He got thirsty a lot, even though he never really left the room. He would sometimes get a little tray from the lady in the wall. She came up every so often and gave him a tray with some food and a glass cup full of water. 

She was a nice lady. She didn’t talk though. So he didn’t either.

He never left his room. She had her own door, but every time he tried to follow, he couldn’t open the door. There was a bigger door. He remembered at one time, people had come out of it. They would use their large warm hands to lift him up onto the big bed in the corner. They would pat his head and tuck him in with the warm blanket and fluffy pillow. They would speak to him too, in words he didn’t understand. 

He remembered long brown hair and kind eyes. He remembered a stubbly beard and warm smile. He remembered feeling warm when they were looking at him, feeling like he could stay where he was forever. 

But that was a long time ago. He gave up on counting. He had started counted the times the sky went dark. The lines were scratched into the post at the foot of the bed. When those lines filled up all the space, he started counting the times the ceiling cried. But he lost track. 

He was lonely now.

He couldn’t reach the big door. No matter how hard he tried. He tried jumping for it. He tried to climb up the wardrobe leg. But he never got high enough. So he stayed. He stayed on the floor of this room, watching the water fill up the buckets again and again. 

The walls were covered in color. Miles drew all over them. He had crayons that the lady in the wall had brought him one time. It was a big box, filled with more colors than Miles could name. He drew on the dry wallpaper, filling all of the gray space with shapes and scribbles. He had filled up all of the space he could reach, wearing down so many of the crayons down to their paper wrappings. So he moved to the floor. He filled up the floor too, drawing himself adventures that took him far away from the crying house. He drew himself running up to the sky and giving it hugs whenever it cried. 

The floor was full of color too now. 

He sat on the window that was nailed shut, and listened to the footsteps of the sky. He was happy here. He was . . .

jazz hands.

[ginnyweasleymybeloved]

cocktails / ginny weasley

Ginny my beloved <3 welcome to my being-so-gay-for-ginny-weasley blog 🥰💓

summary: your girlfriend comes home from quidditch practice to find you prancing around the kitchen, making cocktails.

word count: 2k

warning(s): kissing, alcohol, characters are in their 20s, fluffy

let me know what you think, comments and reblogs are very appreciated <3

♡

Ginny had just made her way home from a quidditch practice that had run on for almost five hours and it was safe to say that she was completely exhausted.

The red head couldn’t wait to get home to you. Although she loved and was extremely grateful for her (very successful) professional quidditch career, after the Saturday practice surpassed the three hour mark she’d been fantasising about throwing herself into your waiting arms and having a good moan about how tedious the day’s training had been.

It was strange really; the concept of having everything she wanted. The idea that she could go out to a job that she actually liked and that paid well and then come home to the person she loved most in the world, in a place that she felt genuinely comfortable. And yet everyday that’s what she was met with. She’d come hom from a strenuous day of training, completely worn out. And there you’d be; back from a long day’s work yourself, with the kettle already boiled with two cups ready and with fresh, warm towels folded for her in the bathroom, ready for her to dry herself with after she’d enjoyed her post-practice shower. Tonight was slightly different however.

Once Ginny had finally trudged through the doorway of your shared flat, she’d been met with your cheerful face grinning mischievously at her from the kitchen. Without wasting much time she kicked off her shoes and made her way into the kitchen, a single eyebrow raised in question.

“Welcome home!” You sang cheerily, prancing around the kitchen, picking up bottles and pouring copious amounts of the liquid into the blender that usually resided in the back of the bottom cupboard.

Ginny let out an airy laugh, “What’re you doing?” She asked monotonously, acting as if she wasn’t captivated by the way you seemed to float about the kitchen.

“Making cocktails.” You stated simply, turning to face her as you did so. There she stood, arms crossed below her chest and a knowing grin on her face- it was the grin she always wore when she knew she was about to tell you off for one thing or another. “And! Before your start-“ You began as you pulled her into your arms, “I made you an alcohol free one. So you can have one and still not break your ridiculous training... diet thingy.” You warned with a similar knowing look to her own, your arms were wound tightly around her waist, as her’s snaked around your shoulders and pulled you flush against her chest.

“So you can and you will have one, Ginerva.” Your voice was final and Ginny let out a short laugh, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear and pulling your closer still.

“Mm. And what’s in this concoction, if I may ask?” With a sweet smile, you pressed a quick kiss to her lips before answering her.

“Cranberry juice, pineapple juice and orange juice.” You informed, placing another-longer, kiss to her lips; a kiss which she happily returned. Ginny’s lips moved fiercely against yours, pushing you against the counter until she pulled away from you, “How thoughtful.”

“Thought you might enjoy it. Y’know, after training all weekend.” You supplied as you shifted your gaze towards the kitchen tiles shyly, holding her securely nonetheless.

Before you could worry about whether or not she liked your plan for a cocktail night, her fingers were beneath your chin and gently turning it up so your pretty eyes could meet her’s. “I love it. I love you.” Ginny reassured you as she took your face in her hands and kissed you again. The faint taste of peach schnapps hitting her lips as she slid her steady hands down to grasp your hips, the sweetness let her know that you’d been making yourself a Sex on the Beach before she’d gotten home.

Truthfully, the regime that came with her career wasn’t always her favourite thing, but knowing that you would go out of your way to make sure she was included in your shenanigans, despite her strict diet plan, made her hate it a tiny bit less.

“Will you still love me tomorrow when I’m ridiculously hungover?” She laughed at the question and squeezed your hips softly.

“Of course,” she stated, accentuating the statement by pressing a soft kiss against your forehead, “And, I’ll still love you later tonight when you drag me up and force me to dance with you,” her lips pressed against your right cheek. “And, when you start giggling like a lunatic,” Her lips moved to your left cheek and you couldn’t stop the dopey smile that grew upon your lips when she went on, “And, in a shocking turn of events, I’ll still be completely and amazingly in love with you when I’m holding your hair back while you’re getting sick.” Finally, her lips found yours again.

Your hands cupped her cheeks as she slipped her tongue into your mouth, moving it perfectly against yours and letting out a satisfied hum when you tilted your head into the kiss. After a few minutes, the two of you reluctantly separated, Ginny chased your lips with a number of short kisses before releasing you from her grasp.

“I love you too, even when you stink of sweat.” You said, scrunching your nose up to tease her further, you went on, “Like you do right now.”

Your girlfriend rolled her eyes and reached her hand up to pinch your flushed cheek, “Oi.”

Swatting her hand away lightly, you turned around and continued fixing up the drinks that had been momentarily abandoned on the kitchen counter.

“Go take a shower, love. You’ve been training all day and your pretend cocktail will taste better after you unwind.” You told her, throwing a handful of ice into the blender.

Ginny watched you fondly as you began to hum the tune to whatever song had just popped into your head. She let out a quiet laugh before nodding her head softly and padding into the bathroom, “See you in a few minutes.”

When she entered the bathroom she noticed that her towel was already hung neatly from the heated rail on the wall and that a fresh pair of pyjama shorts and her favourite t-shirt (which she’d stolen from you) was folded on the lid of the laundry hamper, a bright yellow post-it note rested on top of the t-shirt Ginny had claimed as her own after the first time the two of you had spent the night together two years ago. With a grin, Ginny peeled the note off the material and quickly read the note you’d scribbled for her. Regardless of what was on the note, the sight of your messy scrawl across the paper was enough to bring a smile to her lips.

‘the longer you take to shower the drunker i’ll be when you come back! so don’t keep me waiting ;) xoxo

p.s. i love you <3

p.p.s. use your own conditioner, moocher.’

Ginny snorted at your last comment. She did have a tendency to favour your conditioner over her own, it was coconut scented and reminded her of you, plus, there was the added bonus that it made her hair silkier than her’s did. But one thing Ginny would admit was that she did not use hair products sparingly, if her entire head wasn’t lathered in bubbles then she wasn’t using enough.

A smirk creeped onto her lips when she eventually stepped into the shower, her eyes sparkled with mischief when they landed on your conditioner. She inspected the bottle, it was half full. Ginny nodded happily to herself, she was definitely not using her own conditioner. After a few minutes, the red head head was stepping out of the shower and getting dressed into the clothes you’d laid out.

When Ginny finally sauntered back into the kitchen you were sat on the kitchen counter, cocktail in one hand and a CD case in the other, there was music playing from the old radio on the windowsill and you didn’t even lift your eyes from the CD case when you grumbled, “I can smell coconut from here, Ginerva.”

Ginny only shrugged and inserted her body between your legs, her hands sliding up your thighs before wrapping them loosely around your waist as she looked up at you with an unapologetic grin, “You can’t blame me, love. The smell of it reminds me of you.”

You let out a soft sigh, tossing the CD case onto the counter and placing your glass down too, you let your legs wrap around her waist and brought both of your hands up and threaded them through her damp hair. Ginny stared at you adoringly as you let yourself cling to her. It was the moments like these that she loved the most, when she could just hold you and take in your face, when she could simply enjoy the feeling of your fingers massaging her scalp and your legs holding her snugly against your warm body. She absolutely lives for the moments when it was just her and the woman she loved, moments like now.

“How was work today?” Ginny asked softly, her hands now running soothingly up and down your back. You let out a groan, dropping your head into the crook of her neck.

“Long. Those brothers of yours are nightmares.” You complained. You’d been working for Fred and George Weasley at their joke shop for just over two year and you loved it and the twins, however sometimes the two could be extremely hard work. That’s not to say you didn’t adore your job, because you did, it’s where you’d met Ginny in the first place. But as the twins’ most trusted employee, the pair of them sometimes relied on you to control their chaos. Today’s shift had been one of those times and to put it simply, you’d come home needing a drink.

Ginny let out a knowing sigh of her own before she pressed a kiss to the crown of your head, “I know, love. What was it today?”

You pulled your head back to look at her again, a pout on your lips that had Ginny itching to kiss it away, “George said he’d been working on a potion that could change the colour of pygmy puffs and so he insisted we try it, so, of course since I’m the only one who doesn’t harass the poor little things I had to feed them the concoction!” You explained, picking up your drink and taking a long sip before you went on, “And shockingly, it ended up not changing their fur but made them shrink! And Fred thought it was just the funniest thing he’d ever seen in his entire life but they were so small that they were slipping through the bars of their cages! I spent three hours hunting down teeny tiny pygmy puffs!” Ginny gave you a sympathetic look, she was biting back a smile however, she could imagine the scene in her head and she had to agree with Fred; it did seem quite funny.

“Go ahead and laugh, Gins. You and those twins are way too similar.” With that Ginny let out a barking laugh, her head falling against your chest as she struggled to catch her breath through her joyous laughs. Even if her laughter was at your expense, you could’ve listened to the sound forever.

Ginny pulled herself together after another moment and you rolled your eyes as she wiped away the tears from her own, “Oh hush, it wasn’t that funny.”

“Sorry, love. But it is. It is that funny.” She began to giggle again and you scrunched your nose in distaste, grabbing the mocktail you’d made for her and pressed the glass against her chest,

“Just be quiet and drink your juice.”

[baepsaesbae]

Heal Me, Kill Me Ch.3

Pairing— Kim Taehyung x reader

Genre— Vampire! Tae x Vampire Hunter! y/n, ANGST, Smut +18, fluff

Warnings— Oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, being tied up, Dom!Taehyung, ass eating

Word Count— 6.6k

Summary— You’re one of the best vampire hunters in the world. That’s to be expected when your parents are the best of the best. Your life had solely revolved around ruthlessly killing vampires. You were essentially a cold blooded machine. However, things take a turn once you meet Kim Taehyung, your latest target.

“When will I see you next, dear?” Taehyung asked as he walked you back to your car.

“When would you wanna see me?” you replied.

“Honestly, I’d never want you to leave. I’d selfishly keep you all to myself,” Taehyung lightly pinned you against your car door. 

“Maybe one day you could,” you say, wrapping your arms around him.

Taehyung planted soft kisses on both of your cheeks. You pulled him in for a deep kiss right as he began to step away. One hand cupped his cheek while the other got lost in the tresses of his long dark hair. Taehyung reciprocated your neediness as he roughly grabbed your ass. 

“I still need to repay you for the other day,” he seductively whispered.

“I’ll remember that for the next time,” you winked, “Meet at the flower shop tomorrow?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Taehyung gave you a final goodbye kiss.

The drive back was awful. You were torn. Torn between duty and passion. It was your duty to kill Taehyung, but your newfound empathy kept you from doing so. Even when Taehyung was on the brink of death, you couldn’t commit to your plan. 

Telling yourself that you needed to know the truth behind your parents’ death was just an excuse. Of course you want to know the details of what happened, but that’s not what stopped you from killing Taehyung. 

You just...couldn’t. You didn’t want to. Maybe there could be a way to fake his death? It could create the perfect cover to run away together. Maybe he could live with you in secret. Well, he probably wouldn’t appreciate the fact that you kill his brethren for a living. 

You have a month before Yoongi contacts you again. He’d know something is up by then. You’ve never taken longer than a month on a mission. Thinking about all this gave you a headache. 

You decide to do the responsible thing. You’re going to enjoy the month you have with Taehyung and worry about all of your problems when you can no longer run from them. Aside from the moral dilemma of having to exterminate your boyfriend, you actually felt happy. It felt nice having someone by your side. 

You fantasized about seeing the world with Taehyung. You wanted him to teach you more about plants, cook for you, and maybe most importantly, love you. The concept of love had been completely foreign to you. However, being with Taehyung sparked something you’ve never quite felt before. Was it simply the mortifying ordeal of being truly known by someone else? Or was it the acceptance and appreciation for the real you? Maybe it was a combination of both.

You hopped into the shower before your thoughts became too philosophical. You set your phone’s speaker on full volume and sang along to your favorite songs. TWICE had the best songs to sing and dance to in the shower (dancing in the shower can be dangerous, but you like living life on the edge). 

Being emotionally exhausted allowed you to fall asleep quickly. You woke up the next day feeling refreshed after a much needed good night’s sleep. Pairing a black maxi dress with a knitted cardigan, you felt cute and comfy. 

Biking to the shop was a simplicity that you enjoyed. It was relaxing, the scenery was gorgeous, and the simple act of biking to work made you feel like a normal person. There was a new shipment of flowers that arrived, along with a fresh set of bouquet orders. 

‘To keep you busy while your target takes his time, thanks flower girl :)’ was scribbled on a note atop the orders.

You rolled your eyes, silently cursing Yoongi. Thank god Taehyung was coming today, you could put him to work. You began to fill up multiple vases with water and plant food, humming as you worked. 

“Good morning ___,” a deep voice sang out as soon as the door opened.

“Morning dear! You’re in a good mood today,” you spun around to greet him.

“Of course, because I get to see you! I see you’re prepping vases. Do we have more orders to fill?” he asked excitedly.

“Indeed we do! I’m glad you’re excited about it,” you handed him the stack of orders. 

You admire Taehyung’s sharp yet delicate features as he glossed through the orders. His mouth moved silently as he read the order descriptions to himself.

“Do you only take orders for funerals?” he asked when he finished.

“Huh?” you were taken by surprise.

“It just seems like all of the bouquet orders contain flowers that symbolize sympathy in some way. Lilies, carnations, and especially chrysanthemums. In most European cultures, chrysanthemums are only used for funerals,” he explained. 

“I have no idea what these bouquets are for. I, well I guess we, merely fulfill the orders,” you shift uncomfortably. 

Taehyung was remarkably sharp. You remembered that Yoongi said these flowers are for the families who have been victimized by vampires. 

“Ah, okay. I was just curious. Let’s get to work, love. Can you bring me pink carnations and lilies please?” he asked.

The day was filled with nonstop preparations. You tied decadent bows around the vases that were finished as Taehyung arranged the most beautiful bouquets you’ve ever seen. He shyly explained that he loved art in all forms, and bouquet making was its own special artform.

“I used to paint a lot as a hobby,” Taehyung admitted.

“Why’d you stop?” you asked.

“I had no more inspiration. No muse, I guess you could say,” he said sadly.

“Do you still have your paintings? I’d like to see them.”

“They’re hidden away somewhere in my house, but I’ll dig them back up for you. It might make me a little sad though. I miss painting.”

“Why don’t you pick it back up? It doesn’t matter if you have a muse or not, just paint whatever comes to mind,” you shrugged.

Taehyung looks at you, visibly amused, “What do you think I should paint?”

“A dick,” you deadpanned. 

“A what?” Taehyung was shocked.

“A penis,” you cracked a smile.

“___! You’re so vulgar,” Taehyung blushed.

“I’m just kidding! But just for the record, I think your dick is pretty enough to paint,” you smirked.

“You think so?” Taehyung’s voice lowered.

He reached over to cup your cheek before leaning in to give you a quick kiss. Feeling playful, you lightly bit his bottom lip as he pulls away. Taehyung’s eyes darkened as soon as you did that.

“Someone is feeling bold,” Taehyung tsked before pulling you into him.

Grabbing you by the ass, he hoists you up and sets you on the counter. He harshly kissed you as you wrapped your legs around his waist, begging him to get closer. Taehyung kissed up and down your neck, before harshly sucking on it. The sudden pain caused you to cry out and squirm, but Taehyung’s firm grip prevented your escape. Taehyung chuckled at your response.

“Don’t think you can get away with being cheeky with me, darling,” he cooed in your ear.

His hand slipped between your thighs, his cold fingers lightly inching closer to your core. 

“Taehyung…” your voice trailed off.

“Yes, darling? What do you need?” he teased.

“I need you to--”

The front door chimed, interrupting you. Taehyung dragged you off of the counter with inhuman speed, spinning you back to your spot with the bows. The quick force made you dizzy, but you were grateful for it. It would have been embarrassing for a customer to catch you in such a compromising position.

“Hello again dear,” a familiar voice called out to you. 

You turn to see elderly couple smiling at you from the front of the shop. The elderly woman was waving at you.

“Good morning! How are you two? Here for your roses again?” you politely welcomed them in.

Taehyung is smirking to himself as the conversation continued. You wanted to hit him for being so brazen. The elderly couple updated you on their bakery, saying that next time they’ll bring you fresh goods. You laughed and told them you would gladly trade flowers for their baked goods. 

“Who is that handsome boy over there? Is that your lover?” the elderly woman whispered to you. 

“Oh, I uh, I guess you could say that. That’s my boyfriend,” you blushed, suddenly becoming shy.

“Wow you hit the jackpot, girl,” the elderly man remarked, “That boy might very well be the most handsome young man I’ve ever seen in my life. Besides myself of course.”

The couple laughed and you couldn’t help but join in. Taehyung shyly looked over and respectfully bowed. You could tell he reverted back to his timid and stoic state. You had forgotten how standoffish he was around new people. 

The elderly couple happily left with their regular bouquet of roses. Taehyung’s tension melted away as soon as they left the store. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t introduce myself, they seemed sweet,” Taehyung apologized.

“Don’t worry about it. They’re the only customers I’ve ever had here. I guess the shop makes its money from all of these orders,” you resumed tying bows.

Taehyung’s smirk crept back onto his face as he snuck a glance at you.

“What?” you asked with annoyance. 

“Nothing.”

“Taehyung.”

“That’s me.”

“What are you smirking at?” you asked.

“Maybe you should look in a mirror,” he suggested. 

Horrified, you whipped out your phone. At first, you didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. There was nothing weird on your face. But then you saw it. A huge hickey was showcased in the middle of your neck. It was impossibly dark and its sheer size had you in awe. At first you were impressed, but then the dismay set in when you realized that the elderly couple must have seen it. No matter how blind they were, there was no way they could miss that. 

“Taehyung, you asshole!” you scolded him.

“Did you not enjoy receiving that?” he questioned.

“I did, but I didn’t want to show it off to my only customers!” you cried out.

“I’m sure they had their fair share of fooling around when they were younger,” Taehyung teased as he took your hand and pulled you closer, “Should we resume where we left off?”

“Can you remind me where we were?” you nipped at his ear. 

“Certainly,” he growled, hoisting you back onto the counter.

Planting kisses across your jawline, his hands spread your legs apart. Again his fingers flitter a trail in your inner thigh. Your neediness caused you to roughly press your lips against his while weaving your fingers in his hair.

His fingers grazed your clothed pussy, causing you to shudder. He lightly teased you, slowly rubbing your clit in a circular motion. 

“Faster,” you begged.

Taehyung obliged, picking up his speed. He applied more pressure, bringing you closer to the edge. Pulling aside your panties, his long fingers ran between your folds. You threw your head back in pure bliss.

He slowly inserted a finger into you, relishing your moans as he got deeper. You were so wet that he easily added a second finger. He took his time entering your pussy.

“You’re so warm, darling. And so wet. Is this all for me?” he gazed into your eyes.

“Yes, Taehyung. Oh mm,” was all you could say before trailing off into a moan when his pace picked up.

His fingers curled to hit your g spot with each pump. It was getting too intense, and your breaths became quick and shallow. You were right on the edge when Taehyung removed his fingers entirely. Your pussy clenched around nothing, and you whined at the sudden emptiness.

“Can I taste you, dear?” Taehyung asked.

You quickly nodded, desperate to get to your high. If Taehyung reduced you to this much of a mess with just his fingers, you could only imagine what his mouth could do. 

Taehyung buried himself under your dress, draping the fabric around his head. At first you couldn’t help but giggle. It looked a little silly, like he was hiding under your dress. Your giggle was replaced by a gasp when his tongue made contact.

He began lightly licking stripes through your folds, flicking your clit with his tongue each time. His tongue took its time exploring your intimate area, flattening out in order to gain the most coverage. 

His attention was then focused solely on your clit. He circled it with his tongue before gently sucking on it. The new sensation made you cry out even louder, but your voice hitched when he plunged two fingers back into you. 

The knot in your abdomen returned as your grip on Tae’s hair tightened. His free hand kept your legs spread open as you began to thrash around when your climax got closer. Taehyung was now moving his fingers at an inhuman pace, and his tongue was getting rougher on your clit. 

You let out a final cry as you release all over Taehyung, the intensity hitting you like a truck. You’ve never had an orgasm like this before. You were panting hard to catch your breath while Taehyung appeared from under your dress.

His face was glistening with your juices. He shot you a smug smile before wiping his face with the back of his hand. He seductively licked your essence off of his own hand. If you weren’t so spent, you would have immediately jumped on his dick after seeing that. 

“Did I satisfy you, ___?” Taehyung questioned.

“I believe so,” you exhale, “The evidence is all over your face. Wait, I think it’s on your forehead?” 

“Probably. I’m pretty sure you squirted. The inside of your dress is a mess,” Taehyung shrugged.

You hopped off the counter and sure enough, there was a puddle on the counter. Your dress was also a wet mess. A random passerby would have thought you wet yourself. You were flustered by the thought.

“I made quite the mess, huh,” you sighed.

“That’s my fault. Should I never repeat that mistake?” Taehyung playfully jabbed.

“I never said that,” you replied defensively, “But now I have to clean that up.”

“Can I help?” he offered.

“You can help by finishing the rest of the orders. I can take a few days off when all the orders have been fulfilled,” you suggested.

“A few days? Would you be free to spend those days with me?”

“What else would I do?”

Taehyung got back to work quickly. You chuckled at his diligence. To your surprise, Taehyung managed to complete the orders by the end of the day. He loaded up the cart by himself and hauled it over to the post office in record time. No doubt the postal workers were in awe at his sheer strength when they saw him single handedly bring drag the full cart. 

“So, are you free tomorrow?” Taehyung asked shyly when he returned.

“I think my schedule just cleared up. Why do you ask?” you played along.

“Would you like to come over and have a day on the lake with me? I can fish while you nap alongside me,” he suggested.

“Lemme think about it,” you pretended to mull it over, “I guess you convinced me. I’ll come over around 10? Or is that too early?”

“It’s never too early for you, darling. The best fishing happens around dawn anyway,” Taehyung replied.

“You want me to come around dawn?” your eyes widened.

“That would probably be too early huh? We can do something else instead then. Wanna be lazy and watch Netflix?”

“I thought you didn’t like technology,” you teased.

“I don’t. But I enjoy lounging around with you. And you got me hooked on Marco Polo.”

“Hell yeah I did. Just wait till you see Peaky Blinders!” you beamed enthusiastically.

“Can’t wait. I’ll see you tomorrow then?” he asked as you both stood outside the shop.

“Yes sir. It’s a date,” you nodded.

You found yourself waking up early the next morning, the excitement of seeing Taehyung made you restless. Was his hold over you that powerful? Or perhaps it was something else that had him never leaving your mind? Those questions swam in the back of your head as you picked out your outfit for the day. 

With your laptop bag in tow, you hopped into your car. It was around 8am by now. It was by no means the crack of dawn, however it was early enough for you to lull back to sleep if Taehyung really wanted to go fishing.

The sun was blocked by a thick wall of dark clouds, which was the normal weather in this area for some reason. Even without the sun shining down on you, a faint warmth hugged your body as you approached Taehyung’s house (and no, it wasn’t humidity). This feeling was new, and you couldn’t quite place it. It was as if the sheer buzz from your romantic feelings kept your cheeks warm 24/7. 

The front door swung open immediately after your first knock.

“___! Good morning, my darling. You’re here early,” Taehyung greeted you.

“I woke up early and decided it wouldn’t hurt to show up a bit earlier. Do you still wanna go fishing?” you asked.

“We can certainly try, if you’d like. We can have fish for lunch if I catch anything,” Taehyung pondered.

“I can potentially try more of your cooking? In that case, I definitely want to try,” you piped up.

Taehyung nodded in agreement. He helped you put your stuff away before disappearing to gather fishing supplies. In his absence, you blankly stared at the table where you tried to poison him just a few days prior. Was it a mistake to change your mind? If it was wrong to let him live, why did it feel so right to be with him?

“I got everything! Did you want to fish too? I only have one rod, but we can share,” Taehyung called out, snapping you away from your thoughts. 

“I’m fine with sharing. I’ll take a nap if I get bored,” you smiled at him.

You carried the fishing rod to the lake alongside Taehyung, much to his chagrin. He argued that he was more than capable of carrying everything by himself, but you claimed that you would feel useless if you didn’t help him. He let you carry the lightest item as a compromise. 

 Taehyung easily guided the little boat to the middle of the river. The shores were barely visible in all directions. It would be incredibly easy for either of you to dispose of the other. His back was turned to you as he cast off his line. A simple flick of your wrist and Taehyung’s head would be lost in the lake. Your body tensed up at the thought.

“Isn’t this scene so serene?” Taehyung broke the silence.

Your gaze moved from his back to the calm waters. It was indeed beautiful. Fog rolled along the surface of the lake, making it even harder to see the shoreline. Normally this would be perceived as eerie, but it was oddly romantic to you. 

Your body relaxed as you rest your head against Taehyung’s firm back. This predicament you were in was silly. Maybe if you came clean to Yoongi he’d support you. Afterall, he wanted you to have a normal life. Being with Taehyung for the last few weeks has made you feel like that kind of life was possible. 

“It’s beautiful, Taehyung. Like you,” you responded, hugging him from behind. 

“You think I’m beautiful?” he was amused.

“Of course I do. But so would anyone who’s ever seen you.”

“Your opinion is the only one that matters to me, ___. Thank you. You are the most stunning creature I have ever laid my eyes upon,” Taehyung happily hummed. 

“You’re too sweet. I feel so at peace right now. I think I’m gonna fall asleep,” you yawned.

“Go ahead, darling. This may take awhile,” Taehyung chuckled. 

You succumb to slumber almost instantly. It was an enjoyable nap until your dreams turned odd. You were enveloped in darkness, shivering. You gasped for air but to no avail as you struggled to breathe. 

“I wish I didn’t have to do this,” you heard a faint voice say.

“Tae? Taehyung are you there?” you cried out.

You abruptly woke up with a gasp, your sudden movement rocked the tiny boat.

“___? Are you okay?” Taehyung turned around to comfort you.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I guess I had a bad dream,” you replied.

“What did you dream about?”

“I’m not sure. It was weird. I couldn’t see anything, but I was extremely cold. And there was this voice. It kind of sounded like yours but I can’t really remember,” you shivered.

“Well, you’re okay now, darling. I’ll make sure no one can ever hurt you,” Taehyung reassured you, “Good news, I managed to catch 3 fish! They’re a pretty good size.”

Taehyung triumphantly showed you his catches. He was right. The fish were pretty sizable. You couldn’t wait to eat whatever he cooks up with them. 

You tried to shake off the uneasiness from your dream. Luckily, Taehyung distracted you on the way back. He started humming a tune, which soon turned into a song.

“I still wonder, wonder, beautiful story,” Taehyung sang aloud.

  His voice was captivating. You’ve never heard a voice so angelic before. His song calmed your nerves almost instantly. 

“I didn’t know you could sing. What can’t you do?” you asked in awe as you entered his home. 

“I just dabble in it. I have many hobbies. Like painting, as I mentioned before,” Taehyung admitted.

“You say you like to paint, but as soon as we have a painting date, you’re gonna reveal that you’re the next Monet or some shit,” you shook your head.

“I’m happy you hold me in such high regard, darling. I’ll admit that I’m a better cook than I am an artist,” he chuckled as he began prepping the kitchen.

“Oooh I can’t wait! Do you need any help?” you asked.

“No, I think I can handle it on my own darling. You just relax and keep me company, okay?” he made eye contact with you.

You smiled and complied with his request. You never grew tired of conversing with him. Before you knew it, the dish was complete. The fish were filleted in the most ornate manner, with a skill level on par with Gordon Ramsay. The taste was even more exquisite than the appearance. You’ve never foodgasmed before, but this dish just did you in. Taehyung gave you a boxy smile when you praised his food. 

The remainder of the month was filled with days similar to this one. As promised, you helped Taehyung tend to his garden as he gave you advice on how to not be a plant killer. One day, you surprised him with a painting date. You brought over small canvases and paints, only to find out that Taehyung has his own studio set up in one of the many rooms in his humble abode. Nonetheless, he was delighted by the surprise (turns out he also really was the next Monet, his paintings were incredible). 

You also began to spend the night at his place. You made it a habit to bring an extra set of clothes to leave in your car just in case. Taehyung even got you your own toothbrush to leave at his place (how romantic). 

Tonight marked the two month anniversary of you two meeting each other. Taehyung wanted to commemorate this day instead of the day you guys actually started dating. You thought it was odd, but you didn’t argue against it. 

He surprised you with an extravagant bouquet that he arranged himself. Dressed up in a suit and treated you to dinner at the fanciest restaurant in town. You dressed up too, the clothing was reminiscent of how you dressed on previous missions. 

You honestly forgot that you were on a job. You were too busy living out the life of your dreams. A normal one with the bonus of being in love with a gorgeous man who happened to love you back. The thought that your month of peace was nearly over crept up on you while you were getting ready. You pushed the thought away immediately. You still had time to live out your fantasy, even if it was fleeting. 

Your red velvet dress dipped scandalously low on your chest, and it hugged your curves promiscuously. Taehyung’s jaw dropped and transformed into a smirk as soon as he picked you up. 

The meal at the restaurant was good, but you both knew that Taehyung could cook a better one. But it was nice to go out for a change. You could feel eyes on you during the entire evening, but you weren’t sure if people were staring at you or your date. After all, your date’s appearance rivaled that of the gods.

“Did you enjoy your meal, darling?” Taehyung asked as the waitress took away the plates. You noticed that she took every opportunity she could to interact with him, such as filling up his water every time he would take a sip. You were going to say something, but decided against it since you couldn’t really blame her. 

“I did! I’m stuffed,” you huffed.

“Not yet.”

“Hm?”

“You’re not stuffed yet,” Taehyung repeated himself, then continued to lower his voice, “You look ravishing tonight. You’re always stunning, but tonight I don’t think I can control myself.”

“Who said I want you to?” you teased, leaning over to further expose your cleavage.

“Where the fuck is the check? We need to go immediately,” Taehyung flagged down the waitress.

Taehyung sped all the way back to his mansion. Every bump in the road caused you to squeeze your legs together, increasing your horniness. You tried to get Taehyung to put his hand on your thigh, but he refused. He claimed that if he touched you now, he’d have to take you then and there.

You couldn’t wait to get to your destination. You and Taehyung shared some sexual encounters, but he insisted on taking things slow. He did not want you to feel pressured to have sex with him (even though you made it clear that you truly wanted it). However, tonight was different. Taehyung would finally have his way with you, just like you’ve been wanting since you laid eyes on him.

He carried you bridal style all the way up to his room. He roughly threw you onto the bed, causing you to giggle.

“Get your giggles out now, love. I promise you, you won’t be laughing for the rest of the night,” Taehyung growled with a tone you haven’t heard before. 

You pulled him into bed with you, your lips locking into a passionate kiss. Hands began to wander as the kiss deepened. As tongues delved into foreign mouths, articles of clothing were being stripped off. You tossed off Taehyung’s suit jacket and began to unbutton his shirt. Taehyung grew impatient and ripped your dress in half. You whined in protest since you actually liked that dress, to which Taehyung laughed and promised to get you another. 

Now both in your underwear, Taehyung stopped to gaze at your nearly naked body. Your matching black lingerie made you look sinful, and Taehyung was ready to indulge. Your hand lightly grasped his bulge before it was swatted away. 

“Nuh uh, babygirl. You obey me. You are only to do what you’re told. Understand?” Taehyung scolded as he tied your wrists together with a rope you didn’t realize he had nearby. 

“Yes sir,” you responded. His dominance made you wet before he even touched you there.

“Good girl. Flip over,” he demanded. 

You followed his order, rolling over to lay on your arms and knees. You propped your ass out for him, wiggling it around playfully. A harsh slap stung your bottom, causing you to yelp out in pain.

Taehyung pulled down your panties, running a finger through your slick folds. He teased your clit, rubbing it in circles agonizingly slowly. Before you could complain, he licked a long and flat stripe along your pussy. His tongue swirled and flicked at a euphoric pace that had you seeing stars. He inserted two fingers into your soaked pussy as his tongue traveled to your ass.

You gasped at the new sensation, you’ve never had your ass eaten before. You tingled in new places as his tongue explored the intimate region. His fingers curled in you as he pumped them into you. You felt your climax build up as your pussy began to clench.

“Cum for me, babygirl,” Taehyung ordered, increasing his pace. 

The control he had over your body was incredible. You had an intense orgasm as soon as he uttered those words. Your body shook under him as you released the knot that formed in your lower abdomen. 

Taehyung flipped you onto your back with ease. Your chest was heaving and you tried to catch your breath.

“I think you’re wet enough for me now,” Taehyung smiled as he finally tugged off his underwear. 

You eagerly spread your legs open for him, signaling that you were ready. Taehyung relished the sight. He rubbed his cock along the folds of your pussy, hitting your clit with every stroke. You were oversensitive from your orgasm, which made you cry out each time he played with your clit.

“Are you ready, baby?” Taehyung teased your entrance with his tip.

“Please fuck me already. I can’t take your teasing any longer,” you begged.

Taehyung happily obliged. He took his time entering you, enjoying your drawn out moans. He let out a low groan when he finally bottomed out. He filled you up perfectly. He lingered in that position for a little too long. You had the silly idea of being cheeky.

“I guess you could say that I’m stuffed now,” you smirked.

“You haven’t felt anything yet,” Taehyung scoffed as he finally began to move.

His thrusts were powerful, allowing his dick to hit you in all the right places each time. Your moans were getting louder with every second. Your tied hands reached between your thighs, but Taehyung harshly grabbed your wrists.

“Did I say you could touch yourself?” Taehyung admonished. 

As punishment, he pinned your tied up hands above your head as he began to pound into you mercilessly. You were lost in pure bliss when he did what you were trying to do earlier. He applied the perfect amount of pressure to your clit to make you go wild. Your body began to quiver again under him.

“Let’s finish together,” Taehyung panted. He was close. 

“Taehyung, I love you,” you made eye contact with him.

That sent him over the edge. The sincerity mixed with lust in your eyes was the final straw. He released his hot load into you as you also surrendered to your pleasure. 

“Now I would say that you’re stuffed,” Taehyung joked as he leaned over to kiss your forehead, “I love you too, ___. So much. More than you could ever fathom. In a way, you saved my life.”

“I did?” you were still out of it from your two intense orgasms.

“You did. But we can talk about that another day. I’ll get something to clean you up,” he chuckled. 

You were already asleep by the time he returned with a towel. He smiled to himself, wondering how you can go from sinfully seductive one second to downright adorable to the next. Taehyung happily cuddled up next to you and soon followed suit in slumber.

You had to return back to your house the next day. You stupidly forgot your laptop charger and Taehyung was whining because he wanted to watch Peaky Blinders. Taehyung dropped you off and waved cutely as you left the car. You promised that you’d watch the show with him the next day. 

The moment you stepped foot into your cottage you noticed something was off. The door gave way too easily, and the aura had changed. The once peaceful atmosphere of your safe haven had been replaced by an eerie stillness. It was akin to the silence before a major storm. 

You silently surveyed the immediate surroundings as you closed the door behind you. You knew you weren’t alone. Acting as if nothing was wrong, you casually walked to the bedroom. The intruder was watching you intently. 

You stretched nonchalantly, in hopes of luring the intruder out. It worked. A rustle of movement was heard behind you, allowing you to easily evade the attack. In a motion almost unseen to the human eye, you had your attacker pinned to the ground with a knife at their throat (it’s good practice to always keep a weapon on you in this profession). 

“I really thought I had you that time,” your attacker sighed.

“Jungkook? What the fuck are you doing here?” you angrily questioned, tilting his chin up with your blade. 

“I could ask the same thing,” he retorted, unfazed by the knife at his throat, “What the fuck have you been doing here for the past two months, ___?”

“I’m on a mission. Is that a problem?” you masked your alarm.

“It is if you refuse to kill your target. I’ve been tailing you for the past week. You’ve had so many chances to finish that thing off, yet here we are,” he replied smugly.

“Did Yoongi send you?”

“Who else?”

“Go back and tell him that I’m working on it.”

“You want me to lie?” Jungkook dramatically dropped his jaw.

That angered you, causing you to apply just enough pressure with the knife to break his skin. A line of blood trickled down the blade.

“Why did you choose to reveal yourself now?” you snarled.

“I got bored. Tracking you is boring. Watching you pretend to be in love with that thing is boring. I came to give you an ultimatum. Either you kill it, or I will. That thing killed your parents, ___. You have to remember that it’s a monster,” Jungook challenged you, “Guess little Miss Number One is finally slipping.”

“Fuck you. All those years of chasing after my ass finally getting to you? Second best isn’t such a bad thing.” you mocked.

“Fuck me? If you insist,” Jungkook winked, “You know, this position is kinda hot. You into knife play?”

“Shut up, Jungkook,” you say in disgust, finally releasing your hold on him.

You sit on the bed, watching Jungkook as he paced around your room. Processing his ultimatum had you in a trance. By now, you had no chance of killing Taehyung. You foolishly fell in love with him. 

However, you didn’t think Jungkook would be able to win in a fight against Taehyung. Jungkook is too brash, and Taehyung is too powerful despite his atypical behavior. Even if Taehyung killed Jungkook, that would only cause more problems. The VEC would be even more eager to exterminate him, and will probably send multiple teams in to do the job. Maybe you could convince Yoongi to call it off. Maybe, by some miracle, he would listen to you.

“___? ___? Yoohoo. If you’re gonna ignore me, you should at least stop staring at my dick,” Jungkook stood before you.

“Huh?” you were pulled out of your daze and looked up at him , “Oh. Don’t flatter yourself, Jungkook. I wouldn’t stare at your shrimp dick even if my life was on the line.”

“My Jungcock is the size of a jumbo shrimp, thanks for noticing,” Jungkook grinned.

“God, you’re so disgusting,” you rolled your eyes.

“And yet the vamp ladies can’t get enough of me. They’re willing to die for this dick,” Jungkook nodded.

“I don’t think they’re exactly willing, but sure. Do me a favor, go back to Yoongi and tell him that the job is done,” you say quietly.

“Oh? You’re gonna kill your lover boy?” Jungkook raised an eyebrow. 

“Duh. It’s my job. It’s just been hard to find an opening--”

“Bullshit. I told you, you’ve had numerous openings. You just refuse to take any of them for some reason. Don’t tell me that you’ve actually gotten attached to your target,” Jungkook said in disbelief.

You remained quiet, avoiding eye contact. There was no use in lying, Jungkook would see right through you.

“Holy shit, ___. You dumb bitch,” Jungkook laughed.

“I told you that I would handle it. Just go tell Yoongi that the job is done,” you pleaded.

“And get chewed out in your place? No thank you,” Jungkook sat beside you, “So, what happened?”

You tell him everything. Despite him being a dick, Jungkook was probably the closest thing you had to a friend. He was orphaned due to a vampire attack, so the VEC took him in. You’ve been rivals since you were kids. 

“Sounds like you might actually have real feelings for this thing,” Jungkook said after hearing you out.

“He’s not a thing, his name is Taehyung,” you admonished, “But yes, I think I actually am in love. I fucked up big time, Jungkook,” you exhaled in exasperation. 

“Feels bad man,” Jungkook shook his head, “Major F.”

“Ok thanks for your sympathy,” you huffed.

“You still have to kill him. You know that right?”

“I know. It’s just going to be really hard,” you fought back tears.

Jungkook watched you struggle to hold everything in. He pulled you in for a hug. You suddenly let it all out, crying into his chest. Everything came crashing down. You have to fulfill your mission. Even if you failed, the VEC would pursue Taehyung relentlessly. You owe it to him to give him a peaceful death. 

Your special poison. That’s how you’ll do it. Once he’s immobile, you’ll be able to behead him in one quick motion, making it virtually painless for him. But god, it’s gonna hurt like hell for you.

“Do it the next time you meet him. If you don’t, I’ll kill him myself,” Jungkook said after you finished crying. He said it in a tone that let you know that it’s not a threat, but rather a promise that he’ll back you up. 

You cried yourself to sleep that night. You tried to convince yourself that Taehyung was just a monster that charmed you to bend to his will. You tried to believe that he doesn’t actually love you. You tried to believe that everything was a lie. 

But you just couldn’t. 

You didn’t want to think about how tomorrow will be the last day you’d ever see him. It would be the last time he would ever hold you in his arms, the last time he’d gaze at you with his beautiful eyes, and the last time he would ever say that he loves you.

You drove to Taehyung’s house the next day, as promised. Taehyung waited for you in his usual spot on the fountain’s edge. His lips curled into a smile as soon as you drove in. God, you’d miss that smile.

He bounded over to you as you parked the car.

“Hello darling! Oh, are you alright?” Taehyung asked with a concerned look when he saw your puffy eyes, “Have you been crying?”

“I got emotional last night. It was stupid. Don’t worry about it,” you faked a smile. 

“It’s not stupid if you cried over it. What upset you?”

“The thought of losing you,” you answered honestly.

“Aw, that’s sweet. Don’t worry, my darling. You won’t be rid of me any time soon,” Taehyung pulls you into a tight embrace to reassure you.

“I hope not,” you quietly replied.

Published October 16, 2020. No editing, copying, translating, or reposting allowed. All Rights Reserved © 2020 Baepsaesbae.

[monstersandmaw]

Evening to ya, Ghosti✌️😆

Sorry if the wording sounds silly, but I wanted to ask if you know any rituals I could do for the New Years. 🤣 Christmas hasn't been exactly an easy time for me for various reasons and I tend to get the holiday blues pretty bad, and for a long old while New Years has felt very similar. I'm doing my best to feel hopeful and to have some faith for the new year, but it's turning out to be trickier than I anticipated. So I wanted to ask for suggestions as to do anything that could help feeling more hopeful, I dunno. :3

Though feel free to ignore this if you don't have the energy for it. I hope you had delightful holiday however you celebrated!!! 😊💖💖💖💖

Hey anon! (it’s now afternoon here in the UK, and it was morning when I started this! I got a bit carried away). I don’t know that I’m necessarily the right person to ask about this, but here are some ideas of things I’ve found helpful/centring/calming anyway which you could draw from. Other folks, please feel free to chime in with your favourite ways to put the old year to bed and welcome in the new one!

(first of all, I’m sending you lots of virtual ghostli hugs to help drive away those holiday blues. That sucks, and I’m so sorry it’s been so tough for you.)

Here’s a rundown of what’s below, and I’ll put in a ‘keep reading’ so that it’s not an incredibly long post! Some of it is more on the ‘spiritutal’ side of things, and others are just mundane and practical things.

Congratulate yourself on making it through the clusterfuck that was 2020

Make some tea and meditate on what’s been and what you wish for

Go outside, be still, and breathe deeply

Let go of negative events and thoughts by writing them down, then safely burning the paper

Disconnect from social media for a few days (or however long you’re comfortable with)

Start a bullet journal

Write lists of goals for 2021 and then refine/distill them down to 3 manageable objectives

Commit 100% to 6 months of positive change

Pick three dates/months in the year when good things will happen, and make them happen (including growing veg/fruit)

Light a candle on the full moon or New Year

Ok, so, first of all, you’ve made it through this year!! That’s no small accomplishment, given the sheer volume of absolute shite that has been flung at us from all angles, no matter where in the world you live. Celebrate that. Seriously, I’m not being flippant. Take a moment of stillness wherever you are, be ‘present’, and just think about the fact that you’re here, right now, reading this post. Not everyone is here any more for one reason or another, but you did it. Congratulate yourself and celebrate that. Treat yourself to a slice of cake (or something you really enjoy) specifically to celebrate making it through 2020.

Make a cup of tea (try a new blend or recipe perhaps, or stick with your absolute favourite), or make a comforting drink of your choice. As you pour the water into the cup, breathe in the steam and enjoy the scent of it. Try and imbue all the positive things - memories, achievements, moments etc. - that you encountered this year into the tea/drink, and think about them growing in strength as the tea steeps, and envisage them continuing on to next year too. When you drink the tea, you take the positive thoughts into yourself and they become a part of you. You could try it in the morning with a caffeinated drink (if you enjoy those) and let it fuel you for the day, or you could try a herbal tea at night to let the good vibes steep overnight while you rest. Make it part of your daily routine; a private meditation.

Go outside and find a quiet spot somewhere and either stand or sit and just soak up the atmosphere. If there’s a tree nearby, think about the way its roots are planted in the earth, its trunk stands tall, and its branches reach towards the sky. Feel that space inside you. Breathe deeply in and out, visualising your lungs filling to the deepest parts, starting at the bottom. Count to four for each inhale, and six out (or whatever you’re comfortable with, so long as the exhale is longer than the inhale). This will help to still you and calm you.

If you have something fireproof (can just be a ceramic bowl), take a piece of paper and make a moment to write down all the negative things about this year, using a pen that you’re comfortable with. If you’re not one for words, draw pictures. You can make it really beautiful or just scribble it all down - it doesn’t matter. Get that shit out. Look at it for a while and read it through, mentally letting go of each thing as your eyes pass over it, then light one corner (carefully!!!) and let it burn somewhere with good ventilation (a cooker hood is good for that, but outside is better). Visualise all that negativity being swallowed by the universe and let it go. My favourite line from the Seamus Heaney translation of Beowulf comes at Beowulf’s funeral when a Geat woman is singing her grief at his passing to the sky, and there’s the simple sentence: “Heaven swallowed the smoke.” How beautiful is that? The sky swallowed up her grief as she poured it out to the universe. The negativity might take some time to vanish from your life (it’s not going to disappear at the same time as the paper, sadly!), but watching it go can be the first stage of letting things go. I did this last year, and I’m only just letting go of the last things on that list, but it was a start, and it made me feel more at peace. 

Disconnect from social media. I know that with so much more happening online this year out of necessity, we’ve become even more dependant on our phones and computers, and it’s wonderful that we have this chance to connect with people when we can’t see them face to face, but social media can also act as a crucible for negative feelings. People usually post the best or the worst aspects of what’s going on for them or what they care about, so it leads to a skewed view of both the world and of what’s going on amongst our connections. It’s easy to start feeling insignificant next to someone else because of their achievements or their looks etc. and it’s also easy to start to get a bleak outlook when the news is full of terrible stories and people are reacting to it in a volatile and often knee-jerk way. Take some time off - uninstall the apps, or put the limiter setting on, or just step back - for a day, two days, a week, whatever you’re comfortable with. It doesn’t have to be forever. If you use those platforms to talk to people, tell them what you’re doing, and give them another way to reach you if they need. No need to isolate yourself completely!! Think about how you felt before you started it (write it down?) and do the same afterwards, and compare. If it didn’t work for you, then that’s fine too. 

Start a bullet journal! Now is the perfect time to start bullet journaling. I first started this year when I felt like time was slipping through my fingers and my life was out of my control, and it’s really helped me to get a sense of order back. It’s not the magic cure-all for procrastinators and time wasters, trust me, but it can help to organise your mind as well as your day, and keep track of your habits etc. It can be literally whatever tool you need it to be. There’s a trend on social media - particularly Instagram and YouTube - that shows off these gorgeous journals that are basically works of art in themselves, and while it’s absolutely fine to aspire to that if you want to, the essential point of the bullet journal is to be a tool. You can buy print-outs from Etsy if you don’t fancy doing your own spreads. But don’t get completely hung up on pretty spreads and layouts because you won’t use it fully then. If you’ve got ‘new book fear’, like I did, make your own! I literally started my journaling by folding a few pieces of paper over, slapping a few stickers on them to cheer them up, and writing some lists. I didn’t buy a ‘proper’ journal until July 2020 when I’d got the hang of what I wanted out of the tool, and how to use it. I adapted one or two things, and I’ll be changing one or two things for next year, but it was a good way to start.

Here are two ‘minimalist’ journals and styles that I found helpful when setting mine up. They focus on usefulness and practicality, rather than overwhelming, artistic spreads and cutesy designs. I’m about to do a ‘plan with me 2021’ journal video for YouTube, so I’ll put that up when I’ve finished it, in case that’s helpful. 

Elsa Rhae

Pick Up Limes

Write down the things you want to achieve for 2021. These can be more abstract concepts like ‘more organised’ ‘healthier’ ‘start a business’ etc. Then, when you’ve got as many things as you’d ideally love to achieve/accomplish/manifest (don’t hold back at that stage), take another piece of paper and choose a maximum of six from that first lot to focus on, and below that, choose just three absolutely essential things to focus on. Make those your things for 2021.  

Now, this one is a personal one for me, so it may not be applicable at all to you/others, but I’ll share it anyway. For me, I need to make some significant lifestyle changes for my physical and mental health. So, I’ve decided to commit to 6 months of really hard work to bring about those changes. Time is going to pass anyway, from January to June. Six months will come and go anyway. Where will I be in six months’ time? I could be physically and mentally exactly where I am today. That thought is super depressing to me. Or, I could devote 200% focus, commitment, and energy, and bring about those changes, and be the ‘me’ I want to be in six months’ time.

It’s like the adage of ‘given a week to write a speech, it will take you a week, but given a day to write the same speech, it will take you a day’ - your brain will tell you it takes the amount of time that you have at hand to accomplish the task, and that’s simply how long it then takes. Use those three things from the 2021 list above, and commit to making those three things happen.

As an aside, tell someone (whose opinions you value) that you’re going to do this. By telling someone, you’re helping to cement the idea in reality, and you’ve got a support to turn to if it gets rocky, someone to cheer you on, and someone to celebrate with who knew what a struggle and commitment this was to you in the first place. 

Pick three points in the year where good things will happen. Book yourself something nice, save up for something and have it delivered then, or tell yourself that you will have achieved [x] by May, or September, or December. For me, it’s a working draft of my novel, and certain health goals by October, but make it yours, and keep those points fixed in your mind. It will help 2021 not to be one amorphous mass of time, and will give it structure and form. You could also choose to grow something in a pot - lots of vegetables can be grown cheaply from seed in a pot on a windowsill, and you’ll have something tasty to eat at the end of it!!

Here’s a slightly gentler idea to finish with: 

On New Year’s Eve take a moment to yourself, go outside if it’s not raining or too cold etc., light a candle, hold it (safely) in your hands, and be still. It doesn’t have to be exactly at midnight, but it will help your focus if it’s dark. Otherwise, go to a quiet part of the house and turn the lights down so that the candle flame is your focus. As before, think about what you’ve achieved this year, and be honest, not just negative! It’s very easy to say ‘oh I didn’t achieve anything, it all sucks, it was all awful’, when there will be tiny victories tucked away in there, I promise you, even if it was the toughest year of your life. Then think about where you are at the moment, mentally and physically. Acknowledge that state of being. Look at it with honest eyes. This moment is not for anyone else, so you don’t need to colour it one way or another. It’s for you. If you’re finding it hard not to be negative, be neutral. Let those thoughts come and go, and then turn your mind to the future. Mentally feed those negative thoughts into the flame in front of you, one at a time. Say it out loud if that helps, but do what makes you comfortable. Let the light from the flame fill your mind and your heart, and think about your intentions for the new year.  

Tonight (30th Dec) is a full moon, so if that is significant for you, you may wish to do this tonight instead of tomorrow. 

I hope that some of that gives you some inspiration, and I hope that people will chime in with their own new year’s rituals and habits. Be honest with yourself but not harsh, and be positive but not unrealistic. This year has been one hell of a ride, and we’re not done yet... Here in the UK, we’ve got the highest numbers of Covid that we’ve ever had, we’re in the harshest lock down (Tier 4) and can’t visit anyone, and we’re also going through Brexit (which is proving a nightmare for everyone, especially small businesses...).

Control the things you can control, and learn and employ systems to ride out the things that are beyond your influence. And take heart - you have a family of folks on here, all across the world!

[frogocado]

Thornless (Shayne Topp imagine)

@star-mum said:Hey! Saw your opened your requests so ik I've talked about the "giving Shayne flowers" concept so I wanted to request something like that? (I can see the cute smosh fam Instagram stories happening gOD I LOve shayne) hope that's okay, thank you sm in advance if you write it !!

Summary: You’ve noticed that Shayne has been incredibly down over the past month. After his shrieking laughter is replaced with moping and deep sighs, Ian privately suggests to you that Valentine’s Day would be the perfect time for you to give a grand gesture. Not wanting to disagree with the president of your company, you hatch a plan for your favorite boy. Word count: 2.1k even tho the goal was only 500 whoops Warnings: extreme corniness, small moments of sad Shayne to pull on ur heartstrings, etc.

When you woke up on Valentine’s Day, the softness of the light was almost to pull you right back into sleep again. After you finally rose and pulled back the curtains, you marveled that the very day you decide to pose a grand gesture, California decided to bless LA with soft rain showers, sure to last all day. As you packed the boxes of flowers carefully into your small trunk, you couldn’t help but laugh. Not only was it raining, but the moisture was sticking in the warm air to form a semi-visible mist. Ensuring that the boxes were secured firmly in their places, you noted the array and vibrancy of the colors before carefully closing the door to finish getting ready for work.

Your confidence was felled as you arrived at work after you realized two thirds of the way there that you had no idea how to transfer the flowers into the building. Your forehead fell forward, landing against your steering wheel as you groaned. You and Ian had somehow planned everything perfectly, even practicing how you would get Shayne into the conference room. “You have a theater degree!” Ian had shouted only the day before when you had urgently asked him to stay after hours to help you practice. “I hired you for your theater degree! What else did you lie about on your resume? Have you even acted?”

“My degree was more for screen writing,” you reminded him, voice edging on shrill. “I’ve written a quarter of Smosh’s scripts this past year, President Dumbass.” He opened his mouth to shout again but he stopped when you continued. “Listen, Ian, hearing Shayne ask me about my night before in the morning as I fix my coffee is like, the best part of my day and I really miss it. I don’t want to make it weird, I just want it to be nice. Please help me.”

Ian had grinned at you then, slapping a hand on his desk. “Come on, try it again.”

A knock on your passenger window pulled your head off your steering wheel instantly. You jolted, finger instinctively pushing down the door lock. Ian was waving frantically across from you. As you unlocked the door again, he slid into the passenger seat, cheeks flushed red. “Sorry, I thought you were dead. I ran down here.” He was breathing hard as he glanced at you. “I was waiting for you to get here so I could help you carry things so I was at the security desk. I saw your head slump down and thought you gave yourself a heart attack and die.”

“So you decided to kill me yourself, huh?” You responded, clutching the steering wheel tightly to stop yourself from reaching over and smacking your boss. Ian rolled his eyes. “Oh come on,” he huffed. “It’s the thought that counts, especially today of all days.” He gave you a grin before glancing into your back seat, whistling at the three boxes that awaited the two of you. “How’re you feeling about this?”

You popped your trunk before sighing, getting out of the car. “Not great. Some might say… a little bad?” You grabbed a box, pushing it into Ian’s arms. “Is Shayne in the office yet?”

“Oh yeah,” Ian scoffed. “He can’t even look at the decorations without rolling his eyes. Garrett has been considering recommending a counselor because it’s affecting people’s work, but I talked him out of it. Can I do anything to help you be less nervous? Not to put pressure on you but this could also go horribly wrong.”

“I’ve considered that, yes.” You stack two smaller pots on top of Ian’s box carefully. You considered it in the shower the previous evening, you had considered that the week before, you had considered that when writing your notes, you had considered it nearly every second. “You can help by either continuing to talk and hype me or just not… saying anything.” You sighed as you shut the trunk and headed towards the building, not waiting for him to catch up.

After you and Ian successfully brought everything into the conference room in the annex, you were feeling a little bit better. After coaxing yourself up just a bit more, you headed into the Squad office to put your plan into motion.

You shifted on your feet in front of his desk, waiting for him to take his Air Pods out. When his blue eyes finally met yours, you almost lost all of your momentum. He just seemed so down.

You knew that this was all for him, but knowing that you would be able to see his true reaction to everything in those ocean hues made your stomach twist. He almost seemed to sense this as he used your name to anchor you back into reality. “Y/N?”

The gentle tone in his voice encouraged you. “I wanted to talk to you about something,” you responded in a jumble. You took a breath to slow yourself down. “It’s not work related. Can you come with me into the conference room?” Your mouth shut tight, teeth ground down as to not pull your bottom lip between them. 

Shayne’s face shifted, his eyebrows rising high. As he placed his Air Pods in their case, he pushed himself up from his chair. “Uh, okay,” he answered slowly. “I kinda feel like I’m in trouble.” He gave you a sheepish smile, a question he didn’t quite ask hanging in the space between the two of you.

You almost explained it all right there. He looked so vulnerable and sad, like if this was some sort of prank he might break right there and lose it. You immediately looked at the floor, your body instantly trying to shrink back in on itself as your shoulders rose to your ear. As if conveniently, the grunting sounds of Ian clearing his throat in the annex immediately pulled you back.

This wasn’t about how you were going to feel about all of this. You were doing this for Shayne. If your theater degree could carry you through anything, it better carry you through a grand gesture. You had to remember to thank Ian later. Your shoulders dropped as you turned away from Shayne, heading into the annex. “You’re valid in feeling whatever you feel.” Your hands were beginning to sweat as you waited a full beat before Shayne followed after you.

“Alright, alright, you’ve got me intrigued.” He sighed, eyes falling from your face to the floor as he tried to ignore the pinks and purples cascading from the ceiling. You stayed a full half step in front of him, hoping he didn’t have a view of how wide your eyes were. As you approached the windows of the conference room, you finally slowed your pace down enough to glance at him evenly. His eyes were still on the carpet until they shifted to your face and then to the windows.

You stepped back, selfishly wanting to drink in the view. While there were so many parts of Shayne that you found distracting, you were captivated by the reactions on his face. His eyebrows rose with surprise as his eyes darted across each gift. “What?” He questioned. He grinned in disbelief, looking at you. “You meant the other conference room, right?” He thumbed over his shoulder but you shook your head, holding the door open for him. “Why?” He asked, the door held open with your foot.

You tried not to feel silly as you smiled back at him, waving your hand toward him. “No spoilers, let’s go.”

In shocked disbelief, Shayne stepped into the conference room. Your hands began to shake as he stepped closer to the bouquet. “Did you buy all these? Are they for everyone in the office?” He noticed the orchid and his mouth dropped. “Do I get to pick one?”

You didn’t anticipate his giddiness. You hadn’t planned for all of his questions so you simply watched him until his attention shifted back and finally onto you. Your cheeks darkened under his gaze and you gestured to the table. “I got you these,” you said loudly. You were scared that the voice that you had planned would be too quiet, that you would lose momentum as soon as you started. You glanced away from him, rummaging in your pocket to pull out your notes.

“You’ve been so sad and it’s been making me really sad and I know you like flowers and they help you feel happy so I thought you deserve to have something to remind you to be happy from someone nice.”

You opened the folded paper and glanced back up at his face, holding his gaze for a moment. “So if you could sit, pl—” You started, but suddenly his voice was over yours.

“Is this a prank?” His face had an expression you couldn’t read.

“No,” you responded. “Do you want to know what these are and their meanings or do you have other questions?”

Shayne narrowed his eyes as he slipped into a seat, chin tilted up toward you. “Yes. Am I in trouble?”

You weren’t sure how to answer and so you ignored him, glancing at your scribbled writing. You had gone over everything you had wanted to say and didn’t really need them, but it felt easier than looking Shayne in the eyes. “I know we don’t talk about serious things together but I seriously want you to know that I really miss hanging out with you in the mornings. I wanted to get you some flowers because you always seem to appreciate them and I thought that since you’re a graduated scholar, it might help for you to learn a little bit about some of them.”

Your eyes moved off of the paper and landed on him. You softened as you noticed his smile. “This is very thoughtful,” he softly replied, giving you the perfect encouragement.

“Well, you deserve it so… This carnation is white, so it means sweet and lovely.” Shayne made a small noise, a grin pasted on his face as he leaned back in his seat. You glanced at your scribbled notes, squinting as your pointed finger shifted to the next flower. “This one is a hibiscus because you’re like, the most beautiful person in this office or probably all of LA.” You could feel his eyes on your face and your shoulders rose as you quickly looked back at your notes. “Moving right along, we also have the daffodil to remind you that there will be new beginnings in the Spring. This crocus is for youthful happiness because all of your jokes are dumb and you laugh the loudest at them all, even with a bachelor’s degree. White jasmine is because you’re so sweet. A rose is for, uh…” Your notes shook in your hands.

“I know what a rose is for,” Shayne interrupted, leaning forward to pluck the deepest red one from the bouquet. “Love, desire, admiration…” He inspected the stem, then glanced at you with a smirk. “No thorns?”

The words were all a jumble in your head, but they somehow formed something coherent as they spilled from your mouth. “Because I didn’t want you to get hurt,” you replied softly.

Shayne’s smile grew wider and you noted the light pink roaming across his cheeks to the edges of his ears. You didn’t know his face could carry such a shade of color and you wondered what else might cause it. “I don’t know what to say,” he confessed breathlessly.

You felt yourself start to wilt until he was standing, starting to collect the bouquet and the orchid pot in his arms. “I just… walking helps me process thoughts better and I thought I could tell you my thoughts on the walk back to my desks with the second best surprise given to me at work.” You couldn’t stop grinning, even when his fingers brushed your wrist as he handed you the hibiscus plant, even when the two of you started to walk back and you noticed people scattering away from the annex hallway to give you space, even when after arriving at Shayne’s desk you hadn’t thought that there might be too many for all of them on his desk at the same time.

You kept grinning the rest of the day, even when an Instagram notification pulled at your attention later in the day. Swiping it open, you grinned at Shayne’s Instagram story. “Definitely in trouble,” captioned a photo taken from Courtney’s own story. Shayne was pictured at his desk, mid screeching laugh, surrounded by the thornless roses you had given him.

[fmdtaeyongarchive]

↬ come back to me again.

date: october 2019 to september 2020.

location: unspecified.

word count: 1,810 words, not including lyrics.

summary: man briefly considers writing about self-love before throwing that shit idea out the window and deciding to write about his love life angst instead.

triggers n/a.

notes: creative claims verification. this took me an hour to write and it’s not edited and you can tell both of those things... it’s not my best... anyway, it’s my last verification for ash’s album and that’s all i care about! mentions of youngjoo.

the song takes him a year to write, though he has no expectation of such a long time frame when he begins. 

the first notes of what will one day become a full song are put down the morning after he and youngjoo sleep together again for the first time since they’d broken up. he’s still trying to process what had happened, head spinning with a mix of doubt and affection. he’s fresh off of a break-up. he’s been single for two months after the most serious relationship of his life, and he’s fallen back into bed with his ex. not any ex, but the one he’d once thought would be his second to last lover. and the one he’d also once thought would be his last lover, but who was keeping count of his romantic delusions at this point?

when they’d had their talk that spring, ash had never considered it might end like this. they’d talked and cleared the air and he’d been happy they might be able to become friends again. genuinely, with no ulterior motives. after all, he’d been happy as only her friend once and, at the time, he hadn’t had eyes for anyone else but the man whose ring he wore on his finger or on a chain he tucked under the neckline of his shirt.

but being with her again. it had come so easily, so naturally, like their bodies and hearts had been made for one another.

that’s an awfully dangerous thought to have. it’s sex, not a reignition of their relationship, he reminds himself.

he doesn’t think he’s writing about youngjoo after she leaves that morning, but when he looks back on it, he recognizes it sounds like her. a year later, he isn’t so sure where his own identity ends and his feelings for her begin, though, so he could be wrong.

it’s the insistent but mellow melody of the guitar that later on reminds him of the piece he writes for her for her birthday, one of the happier nights they spend together. the happy nights pose an unexpected problem. he falls deeper when there’s no space between them for anything but shy smiles and fond words. the nights he blocks her out are easier, even when they send him into week-long spirals and drinking binges he hates himself for only because he doesn’t want the unseen eyes of nature to judge them as her fault.

that’s why he sees youngjoo in the song. at times, the piece he’d written pushes forward with unrestrained urgency, but at other points, it slows to a icy hesitance. in the softness, there’s also a coldness.

so maybe it’s not that it reminds him of her, but that it reminds him of them. they’re terribly complicated, and the track is more simple, but conflicted emotions tangle within its notes even without words present.

it’s closed-in, almost claustrophobic at times but at other times, he feels like he’s standing in the middle of a field listening to the work he’s created. isn’t that a lot like intimacy?

and when he thinks of intimacy, his mind races back to that night in october with youngjoo. there had been more breaths exchanged between them than words, but it’d been so loud.

relearning someone. that’s new, but ash has become a master in it over the past year. it hasn’t been a mission only of relearning each other’s bodies as it should have been. he’s re-mapped youngjoo’s heart and her mind (the parts she’ll show him — he’s silently accepted that there’s parts of her hidden in darkness his prying searchlights haven’t been able to reach yet, and that’s why he feels so lost in her presence at times).

there are also parts of it that eschew the wonder of her or the unmitigated confusion of them.

what is there left for those parts to be but him?

he decides those are the most hollow parts of the song. ash doesn’t know if he himself is hollow. as much as there are mornings he wakes up with nothing inside of him, there are times he works to find a balance only to end his day trying to fall asleep amid the flood of everything spilling out on the sheets around him.

working on the song on and off over the course of a year, it’s become a pet project. when nothing else is going right, he opens the song up and adds one thing or takes one thing away or changes something that he’s decided isn’t meant to be the way he’d originally put it, and then he moves on, content with the fact he’s done something.

it’d be easy for it to become crowded this way, but it’s instead one of the more threadbare instrumentals he has with a last saved date within the year. it’s almost more akin to the simple production he’d opted for in the beginning of his days as a solo artist. back then, he’d been an amateur producer and his ideas had often been tossed aside in favor of what bc’s more experienced producers decided would be best for the words and music he had been more entrusted with creating, but he hadn’t had any objections back then to a more naked production angle, either.

now he’s a fan of bold percussion (and there’s some of that in this song, too, as the track grows late into its own night and that’s also where the ghost of an emotional climax of words he hasn’t yet written lays) and layers of vocals on top of strings and samples on top of more vocals, but just listening to this homemade quilt of a track reminds ash of the boy he’d once been, long before that october a whole year ago.

it reminds ash of a boy who saw a future for himself as a poet on stage with a guitar, happy with no more than a small audience to hear songs that he’d created to support his lyrics instead of as a marketing package for selling others’ goods.

that ash had been inexperienced as a songwriter in comparison to the ash of today, but his love for what he wrote had been so unbelievably pure.

such purity is something that’s escaped ash ever since he’d had it stolen from him with fatalism, when one moment of success had turned bc entertainment’s greed up a hundred notches and money and marketing had won out over the charming singer-songwriter niche ash, taeyong, had once occupied.

love for music isn’t the name of the game of the idol industry and it’d only taken a year or two in the midst of it for ash to realize, but seven years into his career had been the first time he’d felt his own love slipping away from him.

it’d been losing grip on the only rope he had keeping him from falling all the way down to the bottom of the canyon under the cliff he’d fallen off of.

this song isn’t his lifeline. it’s an experiment. a recycling bin. but listening to it days before he’s supposed to turn his final demos in for his album, ash hangs every stray emotion on it he has left and makes a last minute decision that this song is a puzzle piece he needs if he wants an honest album.

putting lyrics to it poses a new problem entirely. there are too many memories tied to each ascending and descending note, and it doesn’t seem like there’s a way to bring all of the themes together without making a messy, overloaded concoction out of a piece that’s already been stitched together from discarded pieces of musical fabric.

ash searches his mind for the common thread between everything he’s placed on hooks around the song’s center and only one thing sticks out: longing for something that’s slipped away. one line imprints itself on his mind from that thought, and he scribbles it down in barely legible font on a notepad and then pulls off the sticky note to hang on the edge of the computer screen so there’s no way it can slip his mind.

come back to me again.

that’s the heart of the song. it’s where he’s been for the past year, in an endless battle to bring back to him the things he’d once had and had lost. passion, control, self-acceptance, stability, love. love. love for his music, for his life, for youngjoo. for himself.

he writes a rough draft of lyrics about each lost love he wants back, and they come to him with varying shades of ease and resistance. music is the easiest to write about, but the lyrics don’t fit the other songs he’s submitting, so he sets that draft aside and moves onto his next idea. writing about love of life is foreign for him, and it shows in the way he doesn’t feel that he even has the vocabulary to grasp the undefinable emotions that tie themselves around the concept like a cocoon meant to keep it safe in his head until it’s ready to fly out into the world.

he gives up on that one early, only to move on to the concept of self-love, which gets abandoned even faster. he’s getting a headache at this point and his patience for the idea of writing a song about himself in such a way grows so short that he tears up the paper half a verse into trying to write it.

that leaves him with youngjoo.

he’s written so many songs about her already. thinking about another makes him shift in his seat nervously. each song with youngjoo woven into it that makes it onto his album is another admission of how deep he’s gotten into this mess with her, but writing comes so much easier when it’s about her than almost anything else.

it’d be fitting if that’s how it ends up, though. a song begun in what he’d thought to be a disconnected stroke of inspiration at the beginning of all this, turned into yet another self-lead pen and paper therapy session.

so he lets himself.

it bleeds into two scenes overlapping on top of each other. the soft oranges and yellows and reds of that night together last october and the five million shades of grey of the now. they shape a world existing both in the past and the present, a world confused by its own duality, and then eating its own tail, creating a triplicity with the blues of three years ago.

it doesn’t exist in one dimension, instead pushing itself to the limits of depth and time outside of ash’s conscious control. from verse to verse, the feelings switch time periods, and yet, when they all come together, they easily slide into one story — a never-ending tale he’s written himself into.

[formerprincess]

A tale written with fangs and claws || Chapter 56

Chapters: 56/? Fandom: Teen Wolf (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Liam Dunbar/Theo Raeken, Corey Bryant/Mason Hewitt Characters: Liam Dunbar, Theo Raeken, Mason Hewitt, Corey Bryant, Nolan (Teen Wolf) Additional Tags: Alpha Liam Dunbar, Slow Build, Friends to Lovers, Dunbar Pack, Bisexual Liam Dunbar, Werewolf Theo Raeken, Alpha Theo Raeken, Canon-Typical Violence, Smut, Mates, Liam and Theo are mates, Top Theo Raeken, Bottom Theo Raeken, Top Liam, Bottom Liam Dunbar Series: Part 1 of Morning Dew Pack

The pack finally moves into their new home. It's time to reminisce. 

______________________________________________________________

Liam had been excited when Theo and he had moved into their own apartment after moving to Seattle. It wasn’t big but it was his very first apartment, the first thing he and one of his best friends could furnish on their own. Their very own place to fill to their own liking. His parents had given the two boys fairly free reign when it came to picking out stuff as long as it was reasonable and not too expensive.  It had been an adventure but despite everything, Liam had not felt as excited as he did now. There was something about driving to the furnishing house with his pack, the task of picking out the furniture for their bedroom in their forever home in mind, something so big Liam could not put it into any words. He was practically buzzing with excitement and the smile on his face could not be contained for longer than a few seconds. Not that he tried very hard. 

He wasn’t the only one. His friends were just as excited, constantly babbling, and once they were out of the cars and had passed the entrance, the pack was all over the place. There was just so much to do, furniture to pick, colors to sort out, Sadie had made an entire color concept ton the way here and was now on the hunt for the perfect things to make her vision come true. 

“Where should we start?” Liam asked Theo.  His mate shrugged. “Why don’t we just walk around and see if anything speaks to us? See what the store has to offer. We can meet later and discuss.” It was probably the best solution and Liam nodded along before he left Theo to his own devices and wandered the aisles. 

He found his way to the paints and looked through some example colors. While he loved their bedroom, the white of the walls drove Liam crazy and gave him a headache so he wanted another color for the walls. It had not been a problem in the apartment or the first pack house but maybe because there was so much light in the room and it was so big, the white was now overwhelming. 

Liam looked through some brown shades, some cream ones but nothing stood out to him. Until he rounded the corners and found Nolan doing the same. The color palette Nolan was currently holding consisted of white and grays and those were more Liam’s liking.  “Oh, can I see this?” He extended his hand and Nolan gladly handed it over. “Already picked out a color for your room?” Liam inquired while he checked the samples.  Nolan hummed. “I am kind of torn with going for some brown or green, mixed with white. Then again I saw a teal color earlier and it would be perfect to give the main points.” He shook his head with a soft laugh. “So many possibilities. You really pulled a number with the house, Liam.” “Yeah, well, I am glad that I don’t have to keep it a secret anymore. There were moments when I wanted to cave, tell you everything so we could be excited about the progress in the house together but then I thought about what we’re doing right now and how awesome this would be and I contained myself. I only told Theo because we had this big fight.”  Liam used one of those small notepads to scribble down the number of one soft gray paint he liked very much and could totally see on the bedroom walls. He would have to show it to Theo to see if they were on the same page about that one, but it was a start.  “I personally think you did it perfectly. That way we can now start right away, pick out our beds and closets, and all that and don’t have to delay it any further. If we would have known beforehand, I think there only would have been chaos.” “Huh. Maybe you’re right,” Liam had not thought about it that way. “Anyway, what’s done is done, no use in thinking what might have been. We’re here now and can pick everything out and that is exciting.”

Nolan walked along with Liam and together they rounded the next corner and found Corey in an aisle looking through some pillows.  “Are you two already done with picking your furniture?” Nolan was scandalized.  Corey laughed. “No. I just like to have comfy things and those pillows are soft. We are nowhere near picking out our furniture. This came as such a surprise, not even Mason who is very good at planning things had a plan for that.” Liam raised his shoulders in a what can you do kind of move. “Well, I had to tell you about the house. We can move in now, it’s finished. Didn’t want to wait any longer.” “I get that, Lee. It wasn’t a complaint. I simply wanted to point out none of us even considered this option of a new house so soon. And such an amazing house even. Though I am kind of happy it came that way,” Corey admitted thoughtfully.  Nolan looked at Liam and raised an eyebrow but Liam had no idea either. “Meaning?” he finally asked.  Corey cleared his throat. “The first house was amazing, really. Pretty and nice furniture and the pack could live together. But it was a townhouse and space was limited. Mase and I moved in as well, Lory and Brett came, some additions you could not see beforehand when you moved in. The place was full to the brim, there was not even room for Cedric, not to have his own room at least. I was as devastated as all of you when the house got destroyed but afterward I could not help but think, maybe this was for the better. Now we have this huge house with enough space for all of us and even more rooms in case we have guests or add more pack members. It’s the perfect place for a pack of wolves, not just because of the forest all around.” Corey proved once more how insightful he was and that’s why Liam had wanted him to become the consultant. He thought about things none of the others would have thought about at first. “Wow, you’re right,” Liam mumbled baffled.  Corey raised one shoulder and smiled humbly. Then he held up two red pillows, once a darker shade than the others. “What looks better? The darker one left or the lighter one left?” “What do left and right have to do with anything?” Nolan was just as loss as Liam when it came to these things. Corey hurried to explain: “Mason and I once decided he would sleep on the left side of the bed and me on the right. I now try to make it as aesthetically pleasing as possible, you know?” But Liam was kind of caught up with something else. “You and Mason actually had a discussion about who gets which side of the bed?” He crossed his arms and raised both eyebrows.  Corey snickered. “Yeah, you and Theo never had one?” “No.” “Which side of the bed Theo sleeps on?” “The right. After we kissed, we slept in the same bed and Theo kinda ended on the right side of the bed. But not because we discussed it, it just happened. Guess we got kind of used to it.” It didn’t even cross Liam’s mind to talk about their sleeping arrangements.

Mason dashed around the corner. “Cor, canopy beds! Come!” And he dragged his husband away.  “He is actually right, our old house was crowded.” Nolan furrowed his brows. “Why did none of us ever bring that up?” “Because we learned to live with it? Also, Mike bought it for us and I would have felt bad to run this idea down.” Nolan glanced at him and smirked. “So, Theo’s always on the right side? Because he is always right?” “I swear to god if you ever tell him that, I will push you in the pool. Fully clothed.”

They strolled further down the store and reached the department where all the beds were sold. Here Liam found Theo again who critically eyed a light metal double bed. It was plain, Liam thought it looked okay.  “Want that?” He asked.  His boyfriend made a face. “No. Look how slim the metal is. How on earth do you expect this bed to fare when we have sex and grab onto the frame?” Theo looked at Liam and the young Alpha crunched his nose. “Oh, right.” Yeah, that was a problem. “So what? You want a bed frame made from wood?” “If it doesn’t splinter, yeah.” Theo nodded and walked over to one of the ugliest beds Liam had ever seen. The wood was yellowy and it looked bulky.  “No! Theo, no! I will never let you buy this bed for us!” “It’s sturdy.” Theo knelt down and tugged on the frame.  “It’s hideous!” Liam glared at the frame as if had personally offended him. Since this seemed to take a while, he sat down on another bed and watched his mate.  “We could paint it? By the way, what do you got there?” He pointed at the note pad in Liam’s hand. Liam raised it.  “Scribbled down the number of some soft gray paint I liked. Think it would look good on our walls.”  “Gray?” “Yes. Well, not dark gray but some lighter grey. It looks good, I promise.”  Theo held out the hand for the notepad and when Liam handed it over he disappeared back to the paints. 

Liam, left to his own devices, got up again and wandered between the beds. He inspected a few more frames. Unlike his best friends, Liam could not see any beauty in canopy beds (though he found Sadie in one of the biggest beds he had ever seen and she seemed in heaven) and didn’t want one in his bedroom. A futon bed didn’t tickle his fancy either. It was hard because now that they had the house and basically started from scratch, Liam had a faint vision in his head how he wanted his bedroom to look like. In consultation with Theo, of course. 

He continued to wander around and looked at an array of beds but with the things Theo had said in mind, none of those were even considered by him. He bypassed Maya and Sadie, the latter had seemingly left her heavenly canopy bed, who bickered about a room all made from bamboo (”It looks like you’re living in the rain forest.” “Maybe I want it that way?!”) and rounded a corner. He stepped around a lady and her husband arguing about how their bed was too small for her dog to also sleep there. Caught up in their funny exchange, Liam did not watch his step and literally stumbled over a bed. He stubbed his toe against one of the feet and jumped around on one leg thanks to the pain shooting through his toe.  “Ouch! Fuck!”

He continued to jump around and hold his foot until Liam almost lost his balance and grabbed the next best thing in reach. It was a headboard of one of the beds and talk about sturdy. That thing had kept him not only upright but didn’t even move under Liam’s grip. Huh. He put his foot down again and rounded the bed to take a closer look at it. It was a beautiful and yet simple bed frame made from white wood with a soft gray shine and three wooden planks as the headboard with little space between the planks “That’s a nice bed.”  Liam jumped three feet into the air and spun around to Theo. “You need a bell around your neck!” he hissed. Theo laughed softly.  “Not really into the whole bell around my neck thing. Maybe a bell as a piercing?” “You’re not into piercings,” Liam reminded his mate.  Theo just shrugged. “I would be into them if you had any.” They looked at each other and Liam had no idea if his boyfriend was serious or not. “If I would be the one pierced, I still would not hear you”, he said meekly. Theo grinned again.  “Back to the topic ahead, a nice bed you stumbled upon.” “Literally stumbled”, Liam grumbled. He watched Theo read the price tag and tug on the frame, run his hands over the wood. “Does this meet your requirements?”  Theo seemed satisfied. “It looks great, the color is pretty. Speaking of, I checked the color you picked out, I like it. Better than the white walls we have now. The bed will fit right in.” Now Liam smiled. “Great.” “Coincidentally I found a wardrobe to match. Come on.” Theo held out his hand and Liam took it so his boyfriend could pull him off to show his newest found.

The wardrobe was big enough for the two of them (although Liam was still convinced Theo owned way more clothes than he did and he would be convinced of this to his dying day) and was simply kept in shiny white with grey stripes in the doors. After they figured that out, the rest of the shopping went by easily, and sure enough, they had gathered everything they needed to furnish their new bedroom. 

When they met with the rest of the pack and had paid, however, a new problem arose: “How are we getting all this stuff to the house? Not even Theo’s truck is big enough for all that,” Maya realized with horror.  “Mike’s gone, he said he had an idea and left,” Tim knew but where his best friend went, he had no idea. He pushed Mike’s cart around, just like his own, and guarded it until Mike returned.  Which happened just that very moment. Mike walked up to them, jingling car keys in one hand. “A moving van is parked outside. I know a guy, he said we can have it for today. Have you already paid?” “We have. Goodbye to all my savings but it was absolutely worth it.” Brett was sure of that.”   Mason clapped his hands. “Great. So, let’s load everything in, shall we?”

****** Painting the rooms was the first step after they went back home and unloaded everything from the moving van. And Ever was an absolute lifesaver since she went in every freshly painted room and used her fire magic to heat it up and make the paint dry faster than average. It made putting the furniture together and positioning it right a lot easier. 

Theo and Liam had decided to split it up, Theo was assembling the bed, Liam was working on their new wardrobe. He sat on the floor and worked smoothly. Theo had already managed to put together the largest parts of the frame on one side and was now working on the other.  Liam looked over. “Corey told me earlier, he and Mason discussed who sleeps on which side of the bed.” “Really?” Theo checked the instruction sheet and only now raised his head.  “Yeah. He then asked if we did the same and I declined. It never actually crossed my mind. You?” “God no!” Theo shook his head. “It just fell into place and that’s amazing. I like this with you. It’s easy.” Liam had returned to screwing and stopped dead in his tracks when he heard his boyfriend. “Easy?” He raised his head. “Because I’m simple or what?” “Neither what I said nor what I meant.” “Really? Then how did you mean it?”  “How I said it. It’s easy being with you. The relationship is easy.” He noticed Liam’s face and elaborated further: “I had high maintenance partners. The ones who only accepted and liked expensive gifts and luxurious dates. You, on the other hand, do not care about luxury or money. You are fine with us going to a pizza place as long as we are together and having a good time. Doesn’t mean I don’t have to put any effort into our relationship but knowing you will be happy about a self-made gift and not demand a three hundred dollar watch as a present is nice, actually.” The sweet words conciliated Liam and he smiled. But then he had to ask. “Who did you date that wanted such an expensive watch?” Liam was curious.  “Damien.” “Yeah..that guy was a jerk.” Theo chuckled. “He hated you.” “He did?” “Hm, the minute he laid his eyes on you and saw how we were talking to each other, he saw you as a threat.” “Oh well, I didn’t like him either.” Theo pointed a screwdriver at Liam. “We are not having this conversation about exes. I hated all of yours if you must know, but that’s all I’m saying about that.” “Okay, okay, fine by me.” Liam returned to tending to the wardrobe. 

They worked together in silence, aside from a few words here and there, but most of the time they were busy with setting everything up. Despite their open door they barely heard anything from the other members, they all did the same as Liam and Theo. Caden turned out to be an insanely good handyman and lent a hand anywhere it was needed.  Finally, the bed was finished and Theo helped Liam with the installment of the last door. Together they pushed the wardrobe where they wanted it to be. And then together they put the mattress on the slatted frame. Almost in sync, the couple dropped down on it and both groaned.  “God, I missed having a bed,” Theo moaned.  “Don’t have to tell me, I slept on the same couch as you. Well, except for that one night I stayed in Washington but you can’t count that since you didn’t sleep next to me,” Liam thought out loud. Theo turned his head and looked at him and Liam did the same. “Lee, I vowed to myself the minute our bed is set up we would have sex but to be completely honest, I am exhausted.” He understood. “Me too. Hey, it was a long day of hard work. It’s already afternoon. Our room is set up, that’s the most important thing. We can have sex for the rest of your lives.” Theo leaned over Liam. “Counting on it.” He kissed him lovingly. 

****** Liam woke up with his head on Theo’s chest. They had fallen asleep on the bed and didn’t wake up for several hours. It was dark outside and Liam saw the stars sparkle in the sky. Another thing about living on the outskirts of the city, you experienced nature differently. He rubbed his eyes and sat up. Theo next to him moved as well and yawned.  “We fell asleep? How long?” Theo sat up too and ran a hand through his hair.  “Couple of hours. It’s dark outside. I’m hungry.” Now that he was a little bit more awake, Liam noticed his stomach rumbling. 

He got to his feet and pulled Theo up as well. Together the couple left their room and walked downstairs. They heard voices from the kitchen area and found almost everyone there.  “Oh hey you! Brett and Cade are on the run for some burgers and fries. Hope you’re hungry,” Nolan exclaimed once he saw the Alpha couple.  Really, that sounded delicious to Liam’s ears right now. He had barely eaten and was now hungry like a wolf...pun not intended.  The timing was perfect since Brett and Caden returned at this very moment, loaded with bags full of fries and burgers. The pack settled around the dining room table, soft drinks were grabbed as well as glasses and soon they all sat and munched happily. 

“So, that’s it. We really moved into our new house,” Maya announced after a while and the pack rejoiced.  Liam swallowed the bite he just took and nodded. “Yeah. A new beginning.” He laughed softly. “It’s crazy. Not even a year since I became an Alpha and so much already happened.” "Do you regret anything, Liam?” Nolan inquired. “Regret, not directly. But I will be the first to admit, had I’ve been able to choose, I would have wished for more time between all those things. Like, the space in the old house became limited and I would have liked it better if we had the time to find a new home for all of us without being homeless, not gonna lie. And I obviously would have voted for not almost getting killed several times during this year. I know it from Beacon Hills but it’s still different as an Alpha. So yeah, I would have wished for a few more time between the bad stuff but I don’t regret one single thing.” He looked around. “I’m actually quite proud of this pack and how far we’ve come.” It reminded him. “Oh, by the way, guys, for the next time I don’t want any strangers in this house, okay? Only pack. I consider parents an extension of the pack so this is okay but no study groups or friends from university. Please?” His betas looked at each other. “A reasonable request. We had strangers come into our home and destroy it. Understandable you do not want anyone not related to the pack here in the foreseen future,” Lori adjudged. The others had to agree with that. “You’re the Alpha, we do as you say,” Sadie summed it up. Liam was glad his pack understood where he was coming from. “Ever?” “Yeah?” She sipped her lemonade and looked at him. “Can you find out if there are any ban spells you can use to protect the house? Obviously, the pack must be able to cross the border but maybe a circle around the house?” She pondered on it. “There should be some spells for that. I’ll have a look into that.” “Great. Mason can help you with that. Right, Mason?” “Of course, Lee.”

With that out of the way, Maya could not help but reminisce. “I remember our first interaction. You gave me your sandwich because I collapsed.” “And then you came to our apartment. I had no idea what I was doing at that time. But you needed help. All I’m saying is kale juice.” Maya and Theo laughed and she scrunched her nose. “Don’t remind me of the kale juice.” “Kale juice?” Lori questioned curiously while she munched her fries.  “I drank it to weaken my wolf before the full moon. Since I didn’t have control over it, I needed its power to be lessened. I also broke my bones to stop my transformation.” Lori looked horrified and then apologetic. “I’m sorry for being nosy.”  “Don’t be. It’s my story. It is what it is. Theo and Liam were a great help. Lee forced my wolf out, that was terrifying but needed. And the following weeks he helped me train it.”  Liam leaned forward and put his elbows in the table. “I didn’t even want to be an Alpha. When Byron asked me, I first said no. But then I got convinced and became one. That was it, my plan ended there. I didn’t even think about my own pack, I had one at the lake. And I considered myself still part of Scott’s pack. Then Maya came and all of a sudden, I had a female Beta.” She smiled proudly. “Then Theo got sick,” Maya added, “Nolan came home and joined us. Oh gosh, the wendigo.” “The wendigo, at the same time Ever came around, and I met Sadie,” Liam remembered it as if it was only yesterday.  Sadie giggled. “I gave you all a run for your money because I didn’t want to be a part of the pack.”

"Why didn’t you want to?” Caden asked softly. He turned towards Sadie, indicating he was interested in her story. “My parent’s pack is full of judgemental people. I am a werewolf with IED, just like Liam. I can’t take any meds for that since they don’t work for a werewolf and it’s not like you can ask your human doctor for something else suited for your animalistic side. My parents even asked healers, emissaries, or other werewolves but it always came down to control. She needs to learn control. That’s what they always said. Learning control is already bad but mixed with such a condition, it’s worse. I heard the people whisper about me and my parents. When we stepped out to buy groceries or eat dinner, I heard how they said they pitied my parents, how they would be mortified to have a daughter like me. So for me, a pack was just judging you and I was fine with being an Omega. During full moons, I chained myself up and that was it. Otherwise, I pretended not to be what I am.” The blonde looked at Liam, Maya, and Theo. She smiled. “I kept them all at bay, just hanging out with them.” “Until you saved a girl from getting killed by the wendigo”, Ever cut in.  “Until I saved a girl from getting killed by the wendigo the pack was hunting around this time. It made me realize I could use my supernatural powers to more than just being a shame to my parents or just being aggressive. That I could help other people without those abilities. I made the decision to join the pack and it was the right one.” “We’re happy to have you as part of the pack,” Nolan admitted and she gently grabbed his arm and gave it a squeeze. “Thank you.” “Although, admittedly, someone else gave you a hard time as well” Maya teased and snickered in Theo’s direction. Liam laughed. “Don’t glare at her, T, she’s right. You were jealous of Sadie.” Theo defended himself and huffed. “I thought she was replacing me as your friend, okay?” Maya scoffed. “Please! You imagined how their kids would look like!” “What??” Sadie and Liam were equally shocked and stared at Theo. He shot Maya a dead glare. “Next time you walk in front of me on the stairs, I will push you.” “Naw, Theo, you didn’t have to be jealous. It was clear as day Liam was in love with you back then”, Sadie claimed and patted his arm.  He huffed again. “Change of topic, please!”

“Okay. After the wendigo, we didn’t get so much of a breather when a rogue Alpha came to town,” Nolan chimed in. A few pack members groaned.  Ever put her glass on the table. “I never told you that, Liam, but before you fought the Alpha, you said goodbye. It sounded like goodbye. That scared the crap out of me. But it also proved to me I made the right decision in following you. An Alpha willing to put his life on the line to save a bunch of partying college students.”  Liam shrugged. “What other choice did I have? He wanted me. No one else should have suffered because of that.”

They fell silent for a moment. “If someone would have told me by going to this party I would be attacked and therefore find the best friends I ever had, I would have laughed at them,” Tim quietly confessed.  Mike snorted. “If someone would have told me I would find myself thrown into jail with you guys weeks after the party, I don’t know if I would have been gone in the first place.” Brett furrowed his brows. “A part of me thinks it’s better not to ask, another part is highly curious. Why were you thrown into jail?” “Because we had a brawl in a back alley with some idiot. Someone called the police and we were arrested. Isaac bailed us out,” Maya filled in. And Mike added: “I really didn’t wanna be part of the pack but seeing those people were crazy enough to get thrown into jail for one another, I figured they might be my type of crazy. And I joined. I think I was the most difficult Beta to ever join Liam.” “You were difficult,” Liam agreed, “But, if that is any consolation, you share the number one spot with Sadie and Brett.”  Brett stopped with his last piece of burger on its way to his mouth. He thought this over. “You might be right about this,” he finally concluded and threw the rest of his burger in his mouth.

“Speaking of difficult, aside from your friends from Beacon Hills who clearly joined your pack immediately, which Betas was the easiest to join the pack?” Lori asked out of curiosity.  “Maya in terms of working with the pack, Ever, and Caden.” That was an easy question in Liam’s books. “Even though I feel Caden kind of got the short end of the stick with everything going on. Sorry about that.” He meant it and gave him an apologetic look. But Caden shook his head. “It’s fine. I transferred in the middle of the year and you were there, talked to me, explained things to me. You even invite me to your house and thanks to you I met an amazing woman.” He raised his hand which held Ever’s. She smiled happily and leaned in to kiss the corner of his mouth. “You gave me something to belong and for the first time my wolf side truly felt settled.”

That was good, Liam was happy about that. He had no ranking for his Betas, wanted them all to be happy and feel equally welcome in his pack. “Great. I’m also happy you two are back”, he addressed Lori and Brett. “Even though I still have no idea how.” “Oh, I have an idea. I looked further into this and I think it had something to do with the ritual Celia did. We already know she opened a portal or whatever for demons to come into this world and my guess is she managed to thin out the veil between the worlds or so to speak. That would explain all those strange things in the forest before Brett and Lori showed up,” Ever set up a theory. It was a possibility.  “Celia was the witch you fought against?” Lori was not so sure of it.  “Yes. Be happy you haven’t met her. She almost killed Liam twice.” Sadie threw her hair over her shoulder and made a face. “She can be glad she’s gone or I would have dragged her to her death myself.”  “That would have been my pleasure but you could have assisted me”, Theo reminded her.  “Oh, yeah, right. I would have assisted Theo in ripping her apart.”  

Liam leaned back and laughed with his pack. It was freeing to talk about all the stuff they’ve been through and laugh about it now. It had been terrifying and left their marks but they all survived it and he learned in Beacon Hills this was the one thing that counted.  Still. “Around that time last year, I would have not expected to become an Alpha. Or become an older brother for that matter. In some ways, I feel like I have grown more in the past year than in all the years in Beacon Hills together.” “Really?” Theo was surprised.  “Yes. I mean, when I came to Beacon Hills I was battling my IED, had almost no control over my emotions and then I got bitten. All this creepy stuff happened and it shaped me but nowhere near as close as this last year. At least, in my opinion.” Brett had chewed his burger and hummed. “Well, Liam, between Mason and I, we know you the longest. I have to say the Beacon Hills Liam doesn’t hold a candle to the Liam you are today. And this Liam right here is pretty impressive. Right, Mason?” “Couldn’t have said it better.” Mason grinned at his best friend. 

To sum the last year up, Liam used a metaphor. “The last year, everything happened so fast. One thing and then the other and then another. It was like a snowball running. But you guys are the best snowball ever.”  “Aww!” The pack cooed and Liam laughed.  “You’re the best Alpha ever, Liam. And it’s great all our paths crossed!” Maya exclaimed.  “There is a theory of soul strings. The idea that a person is connected to various other persons all over the world. Some as loved ones, some as enemies, some as friends, and so on. The string between those people leads them to one another and one day they cross paths. It is destined. I like that theory,” Caden shared with his friends. “It’s a soul pack,” Ever cited, “When you find your soul pack, you will know because you'll feel like you can be yourself and also that you can still be yourself even if you are nothing of the things you thought you were or that you needed to be.” 

****** Theo like their new bathroom, Liam realized once they all finished eating and the cleaned everything up before ultimately decided to sleep for real for a few hours. The Alpha couple went back to their room and changed into their nightclothes and then made their way into the bathroom to brush their teeth. The nice thing about the room was the two washbowls and thus both could brush their teeth without being in the way of each other. The shower had also two heads but the bathroom had already been finished when Liam got the house so he really could not be held accountable for that one. It was a nice touch tho. 

And when he saw how bis boyfriend like the space and their new rain shower, he felt justified in keeping the bathroom the way it was. Their towel racks were heatable, especially for someone like Theo, who despised the cold, it was almost paradise. 

So he left the older to his devices after he brushed his teeth and climbed into bed already. This mattress was heaven and the aspect of finally sleeping in his own bed again was pure heaven for Liam. He closed his eyes and stretched lazily, happy as it can be. Their new sheets were comfy as well, it was a possibility he would never get up again. 

“Enjoying our new bed?” Theo chuckled when he finally emerged the bathroom, turned the light off, and crawled into bed with Liam as well. He sighed. “I can see why.” A yawn escaped him. “Fast healing or not, my back suffered on the couch. This bed is exactly the right medicine to make up for it.” He yawned again.  Liam laughed to himself and snuggled closer to Theo. “Good night.” He kissed his boyfriend’s cheek and slung one arm over Theo’s stomach. Theo draped one arm around him and pulled him closer. “Good night, Liam.”

Silence spread out in the room and soon enough Liam heard Theo’s steady breathing. His boyfriend had fallen asleep. Liam himself was not that lucky, he was tired but could not sleep yet. Instead, he laid in bed, listened to Theo’s breathing and steady heartbeat, and watched little lights swirl through the dark outside the window. Fireflies, maybe. It was a soft atmosphere, safe, exactly what Liam had wanted and craved for so long. It was another cut in their lives, something new had just started, but he knew they were on the right track. Things were looking up again and they all felt a lot better than at the beginning of the week.  Sitting downstairs and remember all of the things made Liam realize once again how far he had already come and how proud he should be of himself. He had reached several milestones and could give himself a pat on the back for never losing hope. Despite all struggles, they were still standing tall. It made him proud of his pack as well. He had awesome Betas. Liam yawned. Yeah, awesome Betas.  And he fell asleep. 

****** The next days were still moving into the new house, decorating their rooms, and making the house completely theirs. The wall in the entrance hall now hung full with pictures of the pack and it got more and more homely. Coming home felt always like a dream coming true to Liam. 

He walked into Mike’s room on a quiet day since they were the only two in the house and he just wanted to check on him. It had not taken long for Mike to set up his computers and work station where he constantly disassembled various tech stuff and was roaming around the internet. He was working when Liam entered the room.  “Hey, Mike.” “Hey.” Mike pressed a button and a female voice sounded up. “Hello, Alpha Dunbar.” Liam looked around. “Where did that came from?” “That’s Kennedy. I created our very own security system. And called it Kennedy because I like the name. Do you like it? You can control her over voice.” “Yeah, uh, Mike, that’s...awesome. But we’re not the Avengers. You know that, right?” Mike spun around in his chair and faced Liam. He rolled his eyes. “I know but hear me out. You said you wanted protection for the house and no strangers. While I’m not Ever or Mason and can’t do some magical juju I can take care of burglars or intruders. I created an app exclusively for us. You know the security system at the front door has this little screen showing you who is at the gate. I can link this to the app and you get the camera picture on your phone, we all can get it on our phones. That way we have the control and always know who is at our property. Your property, whatever.” Liam grimaced. “I didn’t really intend to use the security cameras outside.” “Really? Liam, that is a very expensive, highly developed security set. To literally leave them hanging there would be a waste. Come on, please! I even added a messenger to the app so we all can stay in contact without worrying about sending a wrong text to a wrong number or someone reading what we are saying. Security all around, safe from attacks from the outside.” He was torn. Liam knew he had money now but he refused to become a rich person desperate to stay private and paranoid about his safety. Then again, one house had already been destroyed, he didn’t want to take any chances.  “Okay, set up Kennedy. But, for the love of lacrosse, tell her to stop addressing me as Alpha Dunbar. Liam is enough.”

Mike beamed at him and immediately went to work. Later that evening, once everybody else was at home, he went around with a little cardboard box. “I need your phones.” “Why?” Sadie clutched her roségold phone close to her chest.  “I want to install an app on it. Liam said it was fine.” The blonde looked at Mike’s outstretched hand and then to Liam. Her face clearly said Are you serious? Liam motioned towards Mike. “It’s okay, Sads.” She glared at Mike, still hesitant, but gave him her phone. “If you install any jump scare on it, I will suffocate you in your sleep.” “What do you need our phones for?” Theo also wanted to know. Mike explained. “Kennedy is our security system. Once somebody rings the doorbell or the bell outside of the gate, you can get into the app and see who it is. It also reacts to voice demands and has a messenger included for when we want to talk about supernatural stuff and not use any other messenger app where we have others added as well. Good enough for all of you?” “I like that idea. Has something of a secret spy organization.” Of course, that was right up Tim’s alley. His eyes sparkled. “You needed to tell me how this works. Can we use code names?” “Code names? I can’t remember code names.” Lori didn’t want that and shook her head. “But I like the general idea of the app. Good call, Mike.”

"There are two delivery guys at the front door”, Kennedy announced adjust this very moment. Liam leaped to his feet and toward the front door. The doorbell rang and he opened the door to come face to face with two package delivery guys holding a rectangle-shaped thing wrapped in a white sheet. It seemed quite heavy cause that one guy had a red face and was sweating. “Liam Dunbar?” He croaked.  “That’s me.” And Liam almost got hit in the face by the clipboard. He grabbed it with a glare and signed the sheet and the guys set the delivery down.  “Bye.” They turned around, got into their car, and left the premises. 

Liam stared at the delivered package. “What did you buy now?” Theo appeared next to him and eyed the thing critically.  “You’ll see soon enough.” Liam grabbed it and groaned. “I need help with that. Not from you!”  Theo gave him an indignant look when he refused his help. “I need the two tallest ones to hang it on the wall. Brett! Caden!”  The two appeared in the hallway and looked quizzical. “Are you into art now? Is that what this is? Liam, the art lover?” Brett joked but grabbed it nonetheless. Together with Caden, he carried it inside and Liam hurried after them.  “It should hang in the living room, on that one empty wall. The hangers are already there you can put it up. Please and thank you.” “Is this really art?” Caden inquired while he and Brett hoisted it up and hung it where Liam wanted it to be. The rest of the pack also joined, lured in by the commotion.  Brett tugged at the white sheet once it hung on the wall and Liam smacked his hand away. The tall werewolf hissed and pulled his hand away. “Ouch! Brutal, much?” “You really need to be more patient,” Lori lectured her brother. He just rolled his eyes. Liam meanwhile tugged on the sheet carefully.  “Shana helped me with that one, I hope it works the way it’s supposed to,” he muttered and finally managed to drag the sheet fully away.  

It revealed a large midnight blue canvas. In the left upper corner was a simplified drawing of the lake and a few trees. Little pictures of the council members of the lake were listed next to the drawing, all names written in golden letters, and the pictures had small silver frames. Right in the middle of the canvas were pictures of Liam and Theo right next to each other. Their frames were golden, just like their names beneath the pictures. And a bit beneath them came a line of the Betas. Each picture next to the other and in the order of how they joined the pack. Their names were also written in gold but their pictures were framed in silver, just like the Betas from the lake. Each picture was connected with a small golden line and each came together at the Alpha’s picture. Above Corey’s and Mason’s and Byron’s and Lana’s lines were two small golden rings joined with each other, above the line between Liam’s and Theo’s picture were two small paw prints. Brett and Lori had a line with two small triangles, just like Liam and Landon had. One triangle had just the outline, the other was filled on the inside. It was a beautifully crafted family tree with enough space to expand should the pack ever face new additions.  “Oh my, Liam, this is beautiful.” Sadie had both hands in front of her mouth and was tearing up a bit. She wasn’t the only one. Others were also emotional.  “From how the pictures are arranged, it looks like we all are siblings”, Tim noticed. “Aren’t we?” Maya replied and gave him a warm smile. He looked at her and also had to smile. “You are the first siblings I like.” He wrapped his arms around her and she scrunched her nose in happiness and ran a hand through his hair. “This is truly beautiful,” Theo praised their Alpha.  Liam was happy. “I read about it in the Alpha’s journal and wanted to put it up here. I asked Shana to help me and she did. Oh, wait.”  He walked into the kitchen and returned with a pen. “Shana said there’s a little bit of magic, as it’s written in the journal. So, Theo, will you start? We sign one another. Here in that corner.” Theo took the pen and signed the canvas. His signature appeared in gold but then disappeared into thin air. “Whoa!” Liam held two fingers a few centimetres away from each other. “A little bit of magic.”  One after the other signed in the left lower corner. All of their signatures glowed goldenly but then disappeared. Liam was the last one to sign. He exhaled loudly. “Okay, now flash your eyes. Corey, this should work with your powers as well, so if you could help out the humans, that would be amazing.” Corey nodded with a smile and grabbed Mason’s and Nolan’s hands. The wolves flashed their eyes and Ever let some of her magic swirl around her. 

The family tree changed its appearance quite drastically. In the right corner now stood a full moon with some clouds wavering in front of it. The eyes of every wolf in the pack flashed in their respective colors. Ever’s picture had fire dance around her like she used often in real life, Mason’s picture had mountain ash particles float around him, and Corey’s pictures had some green outline and appeared and disappeared again and again. Nolan’s picture had two crossed arrows flowing under him.  “That is so cool. Almost how it’s done in Harry Potter.” Tim’s voice was full of admiration and he stared wide-eyed at the family tree.  The others were equally as stunned. “I never, and I mean that with the highest respect to my blood family, have ever been prouder to be part of such an amazing family tree.” Maya was practically beaming.  Brett chuckled. “The surprises just keep coming. But that is one of the best surprises I’ve ever gotten. Thank you, Liam.”  A chorus of thank yous and other expressions of gratitude fell from his Beta’s lips. Liam laughed. “I was really, really nervous about that, and had no idea if it would work. It’s an old tradition but since it worked so amazingly, why not have it back?” “I am pretty sure Shana will be very happy to hear what she helped make had such fantastic results.” Mason squeezed Liam’s shoulder softly. “Thank you, man.” “Ah, stop saying thank you. I just rediscovered a tradition of this pack.” Liam didn’t want to carry off the laurels. He just had done what many Alphas before him also has done. “Let’s just say, it’s the symbol for a new start? No matter what life throws at us, we stick together and are always by each other’s sides.” “Word!” Caden declared and his fellow pack mates wholeheartedly agreed.

“Life is good now, don’t you think?” Liam had gained his positive outlook back and was just happy. About the house, his friends, his love life, everything. “Next thing, well the next big thing, is the garden. We already gathered some ideas, thanks to Brett, and we started to plant some rose bushes but there is still so much to do. Yet, the fairies seem to like the garden already.”  It was more thinking out loud than actually talking to his pack but they still had heard him and now cut into Liam’s train of thoughts. “Fairies?!” “Yeah, we have fairies in the garden. have you never noticed before? Those little floating lights?” Liam explained what he had seen several times now since they moved into the house. He had considered it fireflies but they were too bright for that and soared too collected.  “Are we talking about those little things with tiny wings?” Corey was confused.  “Yeah. Do you know other fairies?”  “There are no fairies. Our garden has no fairies. I’ve never seen a floating light in our garden.” Theo shook his head. “Fairies don’t exist, Liam.” “Why?” Liam answered with a question of his own.  “What, why?” “Why do fairies not exist? Why does every scary and creepy thing in the books exist but not good things like fairies?”  “If fairies exist, and I’m not saying they do, but if they exist, you don’t know if they're good, baby,” Theo told Liam with a condescending smile.  Liam glowered at him. “Just because you have not seen them yet, you say that. I know what I saw and I think they exist!” “I think fairies exist too”, Tim chimed in. When he saw Liam’s hopeful expression, he relented, however. “I haven’t seen on in our garden but I still think they exist. Liam is actually right, who says only the bad supernatural things exist and the good ones are just fantasy?” “You are thinking about an ideal world where everything is in balance. For any bad is equally as much good. But the world is not always fair and given the track record we had so far, I think it’s safe to say there are more bad supernatural beings in this world than good ones”, Mason made up his mind.  “Yeah but then again fairies are magical creatures and if they do not exist magic shouldn’t exist either.” Now it was Ever’s turn. “There is so much more between heaven and earth and not even supernatural beings know everything. Heck, it could be highly possible dragons exist somewhere.” “Are we counting dragons to good or bad magical beings? Because living in a world with real, gigantic dragons scares me, to be honest,” Nolan called out.  “How did we get from tiny fairies to literally the other end of the spectrum?” Maya had lost the train of thought.  “Guys, I get saved by a literal ghost wolf from time to time. How can you expect me not to believe that fairies exist as well then?” Liam didn’t understand that logic. Theo shook his head hastily. “I don’t joke around with ghosts. Those are a whole other level. Ghosts exist but they’re not the same as fairies.”  Liam huffed and Theo laced their fingers together. “I don’t want you to get frustrated. If you think fairies are real then they’re real.” “Of course I am frustrated. You don’t believe me.”  “Maybe one day you can catch a fairy and show it to us. Then we would believe you”, Mike offered a solution.  Liam was shocked. “I would never catch another being just to show it off. Despite they are fast and I’m not that dumb to not think all of you would film me running around in our garden, trying to catch them.” His friends grinned and Liam had his answer. “You’re mean. Landon also believes in fairies.” “But Landon’s nine. Liam, I think it’s amazing you and your brother get along so great and share the same imagination. But to name him to prove your idea is kind of silly. He’s a child. At his age, I also thought Santa was real”, Corey said softly, clearly, he intended not to hurt Liam’s feelings or make it seem as if he was badmouthing Landon.  “Children and fools tell the truth,” Brett cited. “There are theories talking about how only kids can see a certain type of supernatural beings. Guardian angels and yes, fairies as well. Because as a kid you have a certain innocence and the more you grow up the more you lose said innocence. Only a few people keep their innocence in a way they can see those beings. It is possible Liam is one of these people. That way he would never be able to prove the existence of fairies to us and we have to believe him. And before you ask, yes, I do believe fairies exist.” He raised his chin and looked at his friends, almost as if he was tempting them to say anything. And Liam smirked. Good to have a few believers in his corner. 

______________________________________________________________

I am sorry I took so long to upload. I hope there are still a few people left who are still interested in this story and enjoyed this new chapter. If you did, let me know what you thought of it in the comments. And also tell me, do you believe fairies exist? Yes or no?

[funhaversclub]

HELLO HELLO! long time no see :)

I was going to post about all the new information we got from the Pokemon Sword and Shield expansion video but that's already been done. Instead I've decided to post about something much more dear to my heart. The teaser of the Galarian Slowbro and Slowking! BUT Not only that! This post evolved into basically an appreciation of my favorite Pokemon family. I know some of you may not think Shellder and Cloyster belong in this family but technically Slowpoke couldn’t grow without them. On that note let's get into it.

GALARIAN SLOWKING!

The first Pokemon addressed above is the Galarian Slowking... or Slowqueen?... Based on the information we were shown I think what happens to this iteration of Slowking is the Shellder crown, instead of just sitting on Slowpoke's head, swallows the head almost completely. You can see this in what looks like the Shellder Shell's eye in the left side of the scribbled out head. In doing this the Shellder becomes the pilot in this symbiotic relationship. Not only that but the Poison of Shellder seeps through Slowpoke's body even more than in the original Slowking making this version a Poison/Psychic type! I designed the shell to resemble Cloyster's spikes more than the original look. Another neat aspect could be seeing the powerful Poison/Physic energy flowing through causing a smoky aura to leak out through cracks in the crown as pictured below. As for how it evolves I'm not really sure. Maybe instead of a King's Rock it could be the Queen's Ore that you find in the Crown Tundra!

Some people seem to think Slowking could be a ghost or dark type this time around. With the Shellder possibly breaking, maybe the spirit inhabits or possesses Slowking? I like the idea of the crown breaking so I sketched this up!

GALARIAN SLOWBRO!

Secondly we have the Galarian Slowbro. The first thing to mention about the information we've been given is that this iteration of Slowbro has no Shellder on it's tail! This is odd because originally it was said that in order for Slowbro to even stand it needed the counterweight of the Shellder to lift it. I figured that meant this time around Slowbro is stronger on it's own. Hence the flex pose I gave it :) In the bottom left of the leaked imagery above we even see what looks like Slowpoke possibly learning to stand by itself? We also see a sketch of the Slowpoke fishing so where does the Shellder go? In that leak image, top left, it looks like the tail is possibly flinging the Shellder up. This, combined with the Pokemon website talking about Galarian Slowpoke's body changing through seeds it eats might mean that the Shellder doesn't hold on the same way? Maybe the tail has become bitter and Shellder no longer likes the taste? So Possibly when Shellder is "reeled" in it releases itself BUT lands on the Slowpoke's head instead of staying on the tail. This theory comes from another small glimpse we get in the teaser. A small image of Slowbro's purple head. We don't see Slowbro's ears so I took it upon myself to unwind them. Along with that, I took the purple forehead as more of the Shellder shell than just color. We do also see an image of the trainer Avery with what looks like a royal looking Slowbro complete with a tiny hat/shell and a frilly garment BUUUUT I kind of feel like this is an artsy picture of a Slowpoke dressed up. I could be wrong though so I added the features in the image below. Anyways, with the Shellder on it's head instead of tail, it doesn't change shape the same way. With no delicious tail to munch on the Shellder finds no reason to "evolve" itself. The Shellder's poison begins to seep through Slowbro but not in the same way as Slowking. It pushes poison through Slowbro's body giving him strength to stand as well as making it's hands and tail a purple color. I think this version of Slowbro would also be Psychic/Poison. Who knows how it will evolve. Possibly fishing the same way Slowbro’s lore has always been but as for in game it could be an item or it could be leveling up. We will have to find out in the Isle of Armor.

I don’t really think the frilled chested Slowbro is going to be part of the evolution but some people seem to think it could because of a new Galarian Shellder. I’ll admit when I first saw the image I thought maybe it could be something but the fabric around the neck made me think it was just clothes of some sort. That plus are they really going to also add a Shellder regional variant on top of the three new Slows? BUT for the sake of artistic fun I thought what if a Galarian Shellder had parts that looked like a neck tie? and I’m pretty sure a frilled clam shell is a thing…  So I whipped up the pearl cheeked, smooched lipped Galarian Shellder you see below! I realize that this type of shell is basically what Clampearl is based on and it very well could just be that that helps the evolution. Really, it could be a number of older gen sea dwellers that could contribute. Only time will tell.  

There’s a theory floating around that’s pretty interesting. The same way that I made Galar Slowbro have a Shellder helmet because we can’t see the top of it’s head in the teaser, people are saying because we can’t see it’s left hand maybe something happens to it? One of those somethings could be that Slowpoke fishes out a Shellder with it’s hand instead of it’s tail. This could result in some sort of powerful shell fist? or a rocket arm shell? who knows? When I was drawing this it reminded me of a arm cannon so I added the same “smoke/aura” I used on my Galarian Slowking (or Queen?) 

I’m REALLY hoping on top of all the cool new Slow-ness we also get Gigantamax forms of both these majestic beasts! Maybe something like a Slowpoke surrounded by a giant Shellder coral reef? Maybe because the Corsola of Galar are dying it could look like dying angry coral reef? Here’s a sketch up of the idea I had.

...Well that's about all I have to say about our new Galar Slow family. Seeing as how this has become a Slow Family appreciation post I'll continue with the odd looking Shellders.

Johto Shellder & Johto Cloysters!

Using very old concept art for variations on the Shellder shells attached to Slowbro's tail, I came up with the art for this Shellder trio. Not to mention in the Beta for Pokemon Gold and Silver it was revealed that this Shellder was going to be a stand alone Pokemon! Because of that Beta I'll be referring to them as Johto Shellder and Johto Cloysters.

It's said that when Shellder attaches to Slowpoke not only does it's shape change to become more defensive but also to get as much flavor out of the tail as possible. I thought a neat way to acquire this Johto Shellder would be to "evolve" a Slowbro at a high level holding an item and an open slot in your party I was thinking you could give Slowbro some sort of berry that fills up a Pokemon for a very long time with a single bite. Leveling up a Slowbro holding this berry causes an abundance of nutrients to flow to the Johto Shellder. Being full, it lets go of the tail but retains its form. This leaves the trainer with a Slowpoke in the empty slot and a brand new Johto Shellder in it's place! From Here I figured you could evolve the Johto Shellder in two ways. A higher defense stat would result in the small but thick Johto Cloyster and with a higher attack stat it would evolve into the soft but super spiky Johto Cloyster! woo! I Haven't really decided the typing of these Pokemon yet. 

The Johto Shellders I drew originally came from an older project I was working on. If you want to check out "Capsule Monsters 0 & 1" you can follow this link:

https://funhaversclub.tumblr.com/post/49391556862/just-like-before-with-every-picture-ive-added

Finally we have this Slowpoke with it’s little white belly exposed. This was a sprite used in the Japanese version of Pokemon Gold and Silver before being changed when it was released everywhere else. I thought this could be seen as a rarer type of Slowpoke that is VERY hard to find BUT has much higher stats. Kind of like a unique shiny. That OR it could be the Slowpoke that you get after evolving a Johto Shellder. 

Speaking of Shiny. This entire family of Slows and Shells have some unique shiny forms. We have yet to see Galarian evos Shinys but maybe I'll update this post with an interpretations of what I think they could look like later? for now here are all the shiny versions we currently have!

Since the Galarian Slowpoke has been implemented into Pokemon Sword and Shield we know what the Shiny Galarian Slowpoke looks like. Based on that, I’ve “Shiny-fied” my predictions of the Galarian Slowbro and Slowking.

I can’t wait to see what these guys actually turn out to look like! :)

I've taken some artistic liberties above but for a complete fan fic Slowbro evolution check out this idea on what other shells Slowbro could acquire:

https://funhaversclub.tumblr.com/post/115033630741/a-new-pokemon-fan-trend-going-around-its-drawing

Welp thank you for coming to my Slow Family ted talk. I'll leave you with a picture of a Slowpoke I found down by the beach near my house :) What a cutie.

[quinnybee-writes]

Title: Fire Meet Gasoline

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia/My Hero Academia

Rating: T+

Part: 3/?

Story Summary: A chance encounter between a villain and vigilante leads to an unwise deal made between unlikely allies; an unwise deal made between unlikely allies ends in a final stand neither would have ever dared to take on alone. Together, though, they just might have a fighting chance.

Part 3 Summary: Once is happenstance, twice is coincidence, and thrice is just a big headache for everyone involved.

Part 1 on  Tumblr / AO3

Part 2 on Tumblr / AO3

Part 3 on AO3

Hizashi gave the IT intern a tight but friendly smile as she waved to him before going to check on the status of the server migration. He hated having to do delicate research like this at work; every time one of his coworkers needed something in the room he shared with the server banks he couldn’t help jumping to attention, his hand poised on the lid of his laptop to snap it shut if they wandered too close. The cover it provided him was mostly worth the anxiety, however. A single IP using a VPN in the middle of an apartment block full of unsecured cable company wifi signals was suspicious; another VPN added to the tangle of secure signals emanating from a tech-heavy operation like a radio station was just another Tuesday. Hizashi waited for the intern to finish her checks before going back to what he’d been looking at before he was interrupted.

As far as he was able to find in the HR filings for Solo-Falcon Deliveries they only had one employee named Aizawa, first name Shouta. The photo that accompanied the digitized CV was younger-looking but the man was recognizable nonetheless; same perpetual look of knowing what a hairbrush was in concept but no evidence of him owning one, same dour, “are we done yet?” expression in his dark eyes. Said CV was as barebones as Hizashi had ever seen: eight years at Solo-Falcon Deliveries preceded by a plethora of short term post-middle school jobs; school transcripts from a dozen different private tutors that came to a sudden stop at the end of middle school. His permanent residence had been the same for as long as Aizawa had been working, cosigned by an adult family member with the stipulation that the lease would pass to Aizawa when he turned eighteen. As far as Hizashi could tell Shouta Aizawa had popped out of nothingness as a poe-faced fifteen-year-old looking for a job.

Trying to get any answers out of social media was equally fruitless. Retracing Aizawa’s online steps revealed a ghost town of abandoned accounts in his wake, all following the same pattern of non-use. He would sign up for a new platform, friend or follow one or two other accounts, make half a dozen posts over the course of about a year, then drop it completely without bothering to deactivate or delete. The posts were all the kind of non-entities one could expect out of someone who wasn’t expecting to stick around for very long. Even on the accounts he’d used the most they mostly consisted of inoffensive comments about the weather or work and slightly blurry cell phone pictures of cats.

Even the government seemed to have no luck in catching ahold of Aizawa longer than the time it took to confirm his address, collect his taxes, and send him back on his way. According to his Quirk registration, Aizawa had been something of an early bloomer, developing his nullification power before he even hit kindergarten and being switched from public schooling to private education soon afterwards for reasons of “health concerns”. Elementary and middle school records matched the near-yearly swapping of home tutors from his CV, but Hizashi noticed with interest that there was one massive omission between the two. Several records back in the Quirk registry’s access history was a request from the registrar of UA High School to confirm Aizawa’s personal and Quirk information. Raising an eyebrow Hizashi flipped back to Aizawa’s schooling history and found a perfunctory footnote at the bottom of the file: UA High School registration Apr 2004-Nov 2004; file sealed per subject request. Nothing else was said, just that short “by the way” on a digital post-it note before going on to document the work history and financial filings Hizashi already knew about.

Either Aizawa was some kind of subterfuge wunderkind or he really was just this disconnected. Hizashi sighed and leaned back in his chair, turning that over in his mind. A sealed UA record was as tantalizing a morsel of intrigue as you could ask for, but he wasn’t arrogant enough to think he could go up against a security system as ironclad as theirs with nothing but a masked IP and an undeniable curiosity. There were favors he could call in, Hizashi supposed, people he could ask. Said people would want something equally backbreaking in return as insurance on their investments but that could be relegated to a date far in the future where he had the information in hand and could gauge its actual worth for himself.

Before he had time to start flipping through his mental address book, however, he was interrupted by a buzzing from his cell phone. The display showed an unlisted number being forwarded through his “business line”, a landline he’d had installed in a condemned fast food restaurant on the far edge of the city. Hizashi glanced at his door to make sure it was fully shut before swiping to accept the call.

“Mmn,” he muttered by way of greeting. There was a click, and an automated voice on the other end began to speak in choppy, text-to-speech sentences.

“Bird. Seguchi. Your backdoor into the Hero Registry failed.” Hizashi rolled his eyes. Of course he was the problem, it couldn’t possibly be that Seguchi's client was incompetant. “You owe me a workable solution, do it right this time. Meet tonight at nine sharp, no later. Directions to follow.” The message barked out the address and Hizashi scribbled it disinterestedly onto the back of an envelope. It looked like his pet project would have to take a backseat for something more pressing but way less interesting, he thought with a disappointed sigh.

Biting back a curse, Shouta stared daggers at the bland error box telling him he didn’t have the proper access clearance for the files he needed. He’d spent most of the morning trying to fake the new set of credentials the police database was requiring to view the updated version of the Mockingbird dossier. The security had never been what you could call lax, but the newest version required both the highest clearance level Shouta had ever seen as well as a password that from what he’d been able to glean was just a long randomly-generated string of characters that maxed out the number of available spaces. He gritted his teeth and decided the building headache at the back of his skull was telling him he needed to switch to something a little less frustrating, though such things felt thin on the ground at the moment.

Trying to reconcile the comings and goings of Hizashi Yamada with the known Mockingbird incidents was proving to be an exercise in futility. Yamada didn’t necessarily have an alibi for every time Mockingbird had been sighted in the act, but there was also no real reason for anyone to suspect him of needing one. Mockingbird was a serial offender with a list of potential charges that took up several single-spaced pages in his police file; Hizashi Yamada was the well-known and well-loved operations manager and late night host for a radio station that while not the biggest or wealthiest was far from needing any kind of criminal boost. The only link between the two was Yamada’s oft-abused Quirk, but even that information was a double-edged sword at best. The police had been smart enough to keep the press away from the more sensitive details of the Mockingbird case to avoid copycats and false reports but no one knowing the connection was possible left Shouta shouting into the void. If he went as a civilian witness to the police, he would have to think of a very good lie for how he knew Mockingbird’s M.O. but hadn’t gone to them before now; if he went to them as an admitted vigilante, they might take his report more seriously but he’d end up in handcuffs right next to Yamada. As with most things he’d have to go into this on his own, something that would be a much simpler undertaking if he wasn’t being actively locked out of the information he needed to do so.

“Computer trouble?” a voice above him asked. Shouta jumped, causing the large ginger cat in his lap to grumble and dig its claws into his thighs in retaliation. He gave the cat an apologetic pat on the head and looked up to see one of the cat cafe’s servers standing next to his table.

“Uh, no. It’s just old. Doesn’t like to load,” Shouta lied, swapping screens as casually as he could. The server nodded with a sympathetic smile.

“I getcha,” she said. “It’s such a pain when they still work but they’re too old to really do the work. Our whole register system is older than I am but we can’t get the old workhorse to give up the ghost and let us replace her.” She chuckled, shrugging. “Did you want a refill on that coffee?” she added, pointing to Shouta’s half-full cup that had gone cold long ago.

“Sure, thanks. One sugar, no milk,” Shouta said. He scratched the cat in his lap behind the ears until the server was safely back behind the counter putting his order in before switching back to his other window.

The page had blacked out, the error message now telling him that his session had expired and would not be renewed. He tried closing his browser and restarting it, but the window instantly dimmed and let him know that his session was well and truly dead for today. Shouta wondered if this was a new protocol being rolled out across the board or if he wasn’t the only one they were having to lock out. If the same gap in the digital fence was being used by someone with less scrupulous intents, Shouta supposed he couldn’t entirely begrudge the police for fixing the fault and adding a less easily manipulated system. Trying to channel his frustration into a more helpful direction, Shouta opened the spreadsheet he’d been using to build a Mockingbird timeline and added what scraps of new information he’d been able to screenshot. He highlighted the long periods of silence and typed each time period and Yamada’s name into individual browser tabs.

Hizashi Yamada was as easy to track as Mockingbird was impossible to pin down. Yamada put a lot of effort into propagating his breezy, unbothered persona, but seemed to put just as much into being a diligent employee; the gaps Shouta had found in Mockingbird’s movements didn’t generate so much as a sick day for Yamada. Shouta supposed if you weren’t actively looking for irregularities the lack of them wouldn’t have sparked interest, but to him it was both unnatural and damning. There had to be a weak spot somewhere, Shouta thought. Absurdly careful was one thing, but perfect was something else entirely. He had a suspicion that there was information in the locked sections of Mockingbird’s dossier that would mean nothing to the police without knowing Yamada’s civilian movements but would be the key to getting the upper hand on him for Shouta. But getting in there for a better look around would take time, and with his afternoon delivery shift fast approaching time was not something he had in excess. Another day with better luck, Shouta thought, saving what little progress he’d made and shutting his laptop.

Hebiko, Seguchi’s second in command and high-ranking candidate for Hizashi’s least favorite person on the planet, was waiting for him under the awning of the burned-out corner shop they were supposed to meet at. Hizashi groaned internally at the sight of her, fighting the urge to turn on his heel and cut his losses. Instead he raised a hand in greeting.

“Nice weather for it,” he said.

Hebiko fixed him with an unblinking stare and an emotionless smile. “It’s been a while, Bird,” she said, extending a hand to him like she expected him to shake it. Vivid memories of falling for the ploy and being subjected to the tetanus-like paralysis of her Snakebite Quirk the first time they’d met made Hizashi’s hands reflexively clench into fists. He meaningfully tucked his hands into his jeans pockets and looked around.

“Is your boss planning on joining us, or did he decide the B-team could handle this one on their own?” he asked.

“He had a more important appointment to keep,” Hebiko replied. Her smile widened without gaining so much as a scrap of good will. Hizashi was tempted to point out that Seguchi had thought this was important enough to call him out in the middle of a weekday evening, but his desire to get this over with before all of the good takeout places closed won out.

“His prerogative,” Hizashi said instead, shrugging. “Shall we, then?”

“After you,” Hebiko said, gesturing down the narrow alley between this building and the next. “We’re parked a street up from here,” Hebiko added when Hizashi didn’t move. “It’ll be easier to just cut through here.”

Hizashi scraped together the waning scraps of his patience, reminding himself that there was a takeaway curry and a quiet night at home with his cat on the other end of this nonsense, and headed up the alley where she was pointing.

“Good work today!” Shouta’s manager called over his shoulder as he left the employee changing room. Shouta’s two remaining coworkers called it back to him over the clang of closing lockers. Shouta muttered a vague reply a little too late, his mind already turning to what he had planned for after work.

With a last-minute change in the schedule he had somehow escaped an early shift tomorrow morning after tonight’s late shift, which meant he had until tomorrow afternoon to sleep and eat and all of the other things he usually had to cram into the few hours between clocking out and clocking back in. His heart ached to get out and stretch his legs on a long patrol, missing the routine in the wake of his recent garbage schedule. His head knew better, though. The late hour would mean fewer personnel working at police central intelligence, which would mean fewer eyes on what files were being accessed and by whom, and his newly-opened timetable would mean plenty of time to figure out what he was supposed to do about the lock on the Mockingbird dossier.

Shouta threw his bag over his shoulders, bidding his coworkers a hasty good night and walking quickly out the door before anything had time to interrupt his plans for the evening.

Hebiko followed at a distance that felt both too close and uncomfortably distant, her footsteps almost purposefully off-beat from his own. Hizashi opened his mouth to invite her to stop being such a stalker and just walk next to him, but instead found himself being slammed sideways into the alley wall by something that exploded out of a garbage bag next to a nearby dumpster. Hizashi staggered, breath catching short and sharp in his throat from the hit. Hebiko’s foot shot out from behind him, dead-legging him into an awkward half-crouch on the pavement. Hizashi looked up to see Takeshiro, one of Hebiko’s favorite minions, hopping out of the dumpster. The garbage bag that had assaulted him rustled and squirmed as a thick tangle of dessicated vegetable cuttings slithered out and stood ready by Takeshiro’s side. Hizashi choked back a gag at the smell of it, working to keep his face unconcerned.

“I feel like you might have taken that B-team comment from earlier a little too personally,” he said, the words coming out in a pained wheeze. For the first time Hebiko’s smile held actual mirth and Hizashi deeply regretted the development.

“You’ve been pissing a lot of people off lately, Bird,” Hebiko said.

“Including your boss, apparently,” Hizashi agreed. He pivoted on his toes and tried to keep his eyes on both of them as he straightened up. “He must be pretty irritated to send his pets to do his wet work without coming along to gloat.”

Takeshiro’s plant weapon struck out at him again, sending Hizashi skittering sideways to avoid it. Hizashi gritted his teeth. Hebiko and Takeshiro were each blocking an open end of the alley, closing ranks around him along with Takeshiro’s plant. The only other potential exit he had was a fire escape above the dumpster Takeshiro had crawled out of. If he could keep them distracted long enough to dart through and scramble up the escape there was a chance he could make it out of this in one fresh-scented fully mobile piece. He thought of the extendable police baton hidden in the holster sewn into the back of his jacket but decided it was better to keep it as a last resort. There was no point in escalating a situation already at the snapping point if he could find another way out of it.

“The boss doesn’t know you’re here,” Hebiko said coolly. “The cops caught him trying to get through the Hero Registry’s security net last week using the instructions he got from you. He’s been in custody ever since.”

“Sounds like user error to me,” Hizashi replied, “since the information wasn’t for him in the first place. Does he go through other people’s mail too?”

“That’s really cute coming from someone who makes a living out of digging in digital garbage looking for things to sell,” Hebiko snapped.

“Ooh, really hitting me where it hurts,” Hizashi said. He put on the biggest, fakest grin he could muster, putting a hand to his chest in mock offense. Hebiko’s eyes narrowed, her hands flexing at her sides like she was trying to resist the urge to throttle him. Takeshiro’s plant weapon was starting to twitch and writhe at Takeshiro’s side, belying the man’s outward straightfaced patience. His strategy was panning out for the moment, and hopefully a moment was all he would need.

“We’re about to find a few more places for it to hurt,” Hebiko said, lips curling back from her teeth in a cold smirk.

“Thanks but no thanks.”

Seizing his chance, Hizashi caught Hebiko hard in the jaw with a surprise right hook. She stumbled back a step before coming towards him with an open-palmed strike of her own, ready to freeze him where he stood. Hizashi managed to avoid it just in time, hooking his foot around the back of her knee and sweeping it out from under her. He felt a hand grab him by the back of the jacket and yank him back several steps, nearly taking him off his feet as well. Hizashi twisted sharply towards Takeshiro, forcing the man to loosen his grip just long enough for Hizashi to duck away. He made it all the way up onto the lip of the dumpster and felt his fingers brush the ladder to the fire escape before something grabbed him around the waist and pulled him hard down onto hands and knees on the pavement. Hizashi yelped as pain crackled through his shins and forearms. Before he had time to recover he felt a hand snatch his sweatshirt’s hood off of his head, followed by Hebiko’s sharp fingers digging into the back of his neck. Instantly his body went rigid, joints locking painfully together against his will.

“This is why I hate birds,” Hebiko said, her voice mockingly conversational in Hizashi’s ear. “Whenever things get a little intense, they try to flit away before you get to have any fun with them.”

Without any warning Hebiko grabbed him by the hair and jerked his head forward, slamming it with all her strength into the steel side of the dumpster. Hizashi went limp, the fading paralysis replaced by a dazed ringing in his ears and an unstrung feeling throughout his limbs. He struggled to keep himself awake as black static overtook his vision. Distantly Hizashi could feel hands turning him over and working to pick him up. He heard a second metallic clang, followed by Hebiko snapping something to Takeshiro at the far end of the sludge his brain was sinking into. Before he could make any sense out of any of it, he’d drifted too deep and everything was dark buzzing silence in his head.

Shouta had been trying his best to keep his head down and his eyes on the goal of getting home, but the instant he’d seen the two of them he knew there was going to be trouble. The street was mostly empty and the few people who were out were in motion, leaving jobs or late-night restaurants and heading to wherever they were going after that. The two under the awning, however, were just standing there, carefully keeping to the little bit of shadow the scraps of ripped canvas still cast over the sidewalk. Shouta slowed, pulling his hood up to make it slightly less obvious that he was watching them. One of the figures was tall and skinny with a sharp silhouette, the other at least a foot shorter with unnaturally stiff posture. They talked for a moment before the shorter one waved the taller into the nearby alleyway. Shouta’s eyes narrowed. Never a good sign. He unsnapped the pocket he’d sewn into the shoulder strap of his bag, pulling out one of the bolases he’d stowed there for emergencies. Tucking it tightly into his palm he approached the mouth of the alley. A quick check of the sidewalk confirmed no one else seemed to have noticed him or the two he was following, so Shouta edged up on the corner of the building and peered down the alley.

A third, stockier figured had joined the group from somewhere in the time it took him to approach; they and the short one had closed ranks around the tall one to prevent any potential escape. Shouta dropped into a crouch as he rounded the corner, scuffing his feet over the ground to keep his steps quiet. The group was too far away for Shouta to tell what they were saying, but the conversation seemed to turn sour very quickly. Shouta only managed a few steps towards them before whatever was said triggered a short, dirty fight and the attempt at a quick exit by the tall one via a nearby fire escape. Something fast and tentacle-like caught them around the waist before they made it and dragged them back down. A moment later the short one had them by the back of them neck and slammed them head-first into the side of the dumpster with a sickening clang of skull on metal that echoed out in the otherwise muted night. The tall figure lolled sidewise, dropping senseless onto the ground and for a moment Shouta thought the other two were just going to leave them there. Worse plans were being made, it seemed, as instead the two still standing worked together to roll the unconscious third over and the stocky one made to throw them over their shoulder.

As quickly as he could, Shouta spun the bolas in his hand and threw it at the stocky figure as they bent over. Just shy of wrapping around them, however, the tentacle thing reared up again and slapped the bolas aside. It wrapped uselessly around the bottom of the fire escape ladder with a metallic snap and both of the standing figures turned to see Shouta where he had broken his cover. He pulled another spare bolas out and started it spinning as he rushed them.

“Forget it, get to the car!” the shorter figure commanded the stocky one as they made a move to grab the unconscious figure again. Sprinting away, they made a cursory attempt at tripping Shouta with the tentacle thing, but the swipe swung wide and the tentacle melted into a glob of rotting vegetables as he darted past. The second bolas flew straight, but the two of them had a big enough head start on their side that it dropped and skidded along the ground at their heels without making contact. They had already ducked into a nondescript black sedan and were pulling into traffic by the time Shouta reached the other end of the alley. Shouta pulled his phone out of his pocket and just managed to get a photo of the back of their car. He realized too late that the car didn’t have any plates. Muttering a sharp curse under his breath, Shouta turned and walked back to where they had abandoned the body.

A cold, dawning recognition began to spread in the pit of his stomach as he approached. The figure lay face-down on the concrete where it had been dropped, a spill of long blond hair falling over the collar of a familiar feathered leather jacket. Gently turning the body over confirmed his worst suspicion. Mockingbird’s mask now sported a jagged crack along the top and was streaked with blood from where it had cut into his forehead when his head slammed into the dumpster. Under the blood he looked unpleasantly pale in the dim alley light. His eyelids flickered and he let out a small moaning breath as Shouta put two fingers to his neck to confirm there was a pulse. Not dead, Shouta confirmed with a tight grimace, just knocked out.

Shouta sat back on his heels, brain speeding off in opposite directions at the same time. He knew he was duty-bound to find the nearest patrolling officer or hero and turn Mockingbird in; it was the only good ending for the situation, even if his accomplices had managed to get away. Then again, those “accomplices” had knocked Mockingbird out and for all intents and purposes left him for dead. Whatever had gone south between them, Mockingbird had ended up a victim of it in the end. It seemed unfair somehow for him to get turned over to law enforcement when what he needed was help, like adding insult to injury. A police siren rang out on the street Shouta had followed Mockingbird and the others off of, making Shouta jump. He didn’t have time to debate it. Before better instincts could kick in, he shuffled off his bag and opened the farthest-back compression pocket.

“Sorry about this,” Shouta muttered. Working quickly, he stripped off Mockingbird’s mask and jacket, stuffing them into his bag. Mockingbird was wearing a piece of homemade gear around his neck, partially hidden by the neckline of his hoodie. It looked like a series of spare audio parts wired into a tight collar; long wires stretched down under his sleeves to controls strapped to the palms of his hands under his gloves. The sirens were getting uncomfortably close as Shouta tried to find a way to get it off of him. Finally he just took each side of a join in one hand and yanked, pulling all of the wires free and and shoving the whole contraption in his bag as well. He managed to get everything strapped flat and his bag back over his shoulders as blue and red lights announced the approach of the police. Taking a deep breath and turning his gut-level panic into an expression of concern, Shouta half-jogged out of the alley to meet them.

“Hey! Hey over here, I think he needs help!” Shouta shouted, waving his arms to flag the car down.

The next hour was a hazy blur of trying to keep his story straight for every cop he had to repeat it to, from the scene to the ambulance to a private conference room at the hospital. He had been on his way home from work, he said in increasing tones of weariness, and he heard what he thought was a fight in the alley as he passed by. He tried to step in after the muggers threw Yamada against the dumpster, but they ran off before he could get a good look at them. No, he didn’t really know Yamada, he just recognized him from a delivery he’d made. No, he wasn’t the one who made the initial call to the police, he had been trying to check if Yamada was dead or just unconscious. No, he didn’t have any additional information, he had honestly just been in the right place at the right time. Each time the police seemed to get a little less interested in him, turning their attention to questioning Yamada when the doctors were done running tests. Finally they thanked him for his time and Shouta was allowed to sit by himself in the waiting room and catch his breath.

Every single part of him felt like it was trying to fistfight every other part, but his head was winning the pain battle by a longshot. Hizashi opened his eyes and immediately shut them again with a sharp grunt of pain as white fluorescent lights burned into his skull. He tried again more slowly, squinting his eyes open in slow shifts to let them adjust. A hospital room came into focus bit by bit.. His jacket and gear were gone and his feet were bare. He could see a doctor and nurse standing a few feet away, talking to a uniformed officer. All of them seemed relatively relaxed, considering where they were. There was an uneasy feeling of Wrongness about the situation, but before he had time to dwell on it, the three of them noticed he was awake and came to stand around his bed.

“‘M I under arrest?” Hizashi mumbled. It wasn’t the best opener, but putting thoughts into words and having them stay in the right order was proving to be a challenge right now.

“Nothing so drastic, Mr. Yamada,” the doctor said, smiling at the perceived joke. “Officer Fujiwara is just here to take a statement about what happened to you tonight after we run a few tests to make sure everything’s shipshape up here,” she added, tapping her own temple with an index finger.

“Okay,” Hizashi said slowly. The time delay between ears and brain was slowly shortening, but somehow that wasn’t helping things make sense. He wasn’t being detained (yet), and they’d called him Yamada, which seemed to imply better things than he had expected. How that better outcome had happened was still up for debate but he was more than willing to let it ride for the moment.

The doctor introduced herself as Dr. Watanabe before going through the usual battery of post-concussion memory and comprehension tests that a childhood spent roughhousing with four siblings had turned into second nature for Hizashi. Slowly but surely as they spoke Hizashi’s brain clicked up through the gears until he was mostly running on all cylinders. He kept the conversation going as they wheeled him out of the room for a quick brain scan and then back in once it was done. Too soon, however, came the moment when he had to explain himself to the police.

“I understand things may be a little bit confused at the moment,” Officer Fujiwara began, cutting off Hizashi’s excuse before he could even make it. “We can fill in the more minor details at a later date as they come back to you. For right now, just tell me what you remember.”

Hizashi hesitated, trying to come up with a story that was both plausible and matched enough of the details that it wouldn’t come back to bite him later. “Uh. I was out walking,” he started, trying to get his feet under himself as he spoke. “There’s a takeout place I like, but it’s on the other side of town from my apartment so I don’t go there much unless I’m working late.”

“Understandable. Where is it that you work, Mr. Yamada?” Officer Fujiwara asked.

“Asahi Radio. I manage operations and fill in when our hosts are out. I had some paperwork to finish up, so I stayed late tonight.” Nice, neat, normal little life, Hizashi thought, willing her to buy the excuse. Officer Fujiwara made no indication that she did or didn’t believe it. Instead she just nodded and scribbled down shorthand on her notepad, motioning for him to go on. “I was trying to get home before it got too late, so I took a shortcut to the restaurant, but…” Hizashi trailed off, stiffly shaking his head. “I don’t know. It gets kind of jumbled after that.”

“I see. Do you remember seeing or hearing anything out of the ordinary while you were walking? Anyone suspicious, anyone seeming like they were following you?” Officer Fujiwara asked. Hizashi shook his head.

“No, but I wasn’t really looking I guess. Too distracted by my stomach,” Hizashi replied, cracking a smile at his own joke. Officer Fujiwara gave him a thin smile.

“Anything else you can remember?” she asked. Hizashi pretended to think. Trying to remember things in the order that they had happened after Hebiko had hit him with her Snakebite was genuinely difficult and added a touch of realism to his stymied expression.

“Sorry, no,” he said.

“Not a problem, Mr. Yamada. Here’s my card, and one for my immediate superior,” Officer Fujiwara said, handing him a pair of business cards. “If anything comes to mind later, please feel free to give us a call and let us know.”

Hizashi thanked her and accepted the cards, giving her his number at the station in return in case they needed to call him back instead. Officer Fujiwara bid him a good evening and left. Hizashi allowed himself to breathe a long sigh of relief as Dr. Watanabe returned.

“Well, the good news is your scans came back looking clear as can be hoped for,” she said brightly. “We can go ahead and keep you overnight for observation if you would like, but you should be all right to go ahead home if you’d rather do that. I believe your friend’s still out in the waiting room if the two of you need to talk it over.”

A cold jolt sank into the pit of Hizashi’s stomach, but he tried to keep it off his face. “Uh, yeah,” he agreed. “That might be best.”

Dr. Watanabe nodded and left to go get said “friend”. Hizashi sat up, sliding his legs over to sit on the side of the bed. He wasn’t really feeling up to running for his life after the rest of what happened tonight, but if Hebiko had followed him all the way to the hospital it seemed like he wasn’t going to have much choice. Maybe the cops would still be down in the lobby when he got there and he could have a miraculous return of memory that the stringy, suspicious-looking woman who had said she was here to get him was actually here to get him.

The frantic train of thought had a massive derail, however, as Dr. Watanabe returned to the room with a tall, shuffling figure in tow. Hizashi blinked, sure he had to be seeing things as Aizawa awkwardly nodded in greeting.

“Hey,” Aizawa muttered. “Erm. How’re you feeling?”

“A little confused,” Hizashi said. He tried to raise his eyebrow, but relented when the motion pulled too hard at the stitches in his forehead. “But, uh. Okay, I guess. Are you my escort home?”

Aizawa gave him a slightly sour look at the question but nodded. “I guess so,” he said.

In a renewed haze of bewilderment Hizashi reclaimed what of his belongings hadn’t been thrown out as a biohazard and signed himself out of the hospital while Aizawa called them a taxi. A very stiff, silent cab ride followed, neither of them knowing how to break the silence without making this worse than it already was.

“How’d you know where I was?” Hizashi asked finally, eyes locked forward out the front windshield of the taxi. “Decide to follow me?”

“No,” Aizawa replied flatly. “Just bad luck I guess.”

“Yours or mine?”

“Both.”

Hizashi snorted. “For once we agree on something,” he said.

The cab pulled to a stop in front of Hizashi’s building and his door creaked open to let him out. Aizawa cleared his throat as Hizashi shambled up off the seat.

“Do you...want me to come with you?” Aizawa asked, with a note in his voice that sounded like genuine concern. Hizashi paused, amused in spite of himself.

“Not even a little bit,” Hizashi replied with a cheerful, insincere smile. He shut the door and waited until the cab had pulled back into traffic and rounded the corner before going inside.

[starswornoaths]

📔

I wrote these a bit lengthy, so I’m sticking a cut here bc spoilers for 4.5 but I was an indecisive bean and there’s an entry for Serella, Uthengentle, and just because I write him enough that I might as well, one for Aymeric as well! Thank you for the ask! \o/

(edit: OR IT JUST WON’T LET ME ADD A CUT WHAT THE ACTUAL SHIT TUMBLR I’M ON THE DESKTOP SITE SO FAIR WARNING SPOILERS FOR 4.5 AFTER THIS EDIT OKAY THANK YOU I’M SO SORRY WTFFFFFF)

Serella:

My name is Serella Arcbane. (her name is underlined)

Not so long ago I would have found it ridiculous that I needed to remind myself what my name is. Given that I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve been referred to by my name instead of a title, however, I think I’m allowed. Now that I have another one, however temporary...it seemed a good time to remind myself.

Antecedent...the title carries with it too much pain. Too much loss. The remaining Scions approved of my accepting the title for lack of anyone else with any seniority willing or able to take it. I remind myself that it’s temporary, that the second even one of my companions wakes up, I get to just be the Warrior of Light again.

Just, I say. As if it were an inconsequential thing in itself.

At least then, when I was naught more than the Warrior of Light, I was able to still be Serella. I wasn’t made to isolate myself from everyone I know and love. It hurts, knowing that I had finally found family amongst so many people, so many I hold dear, who now can’t see me, either because they are unable to make the journey or because it would be improper of them to do so.

Ma came to visit me today. Her visit...I don’t know. When she called me by my name...I didn’t even respond to it at first. It was as if I had just...forgotten it. Perhaps I did. Perhaps I will again. She suggested I write it down. Said it’s how she remembers the little things about Da. I don’t know if it’ll help. I wish he was here, too. Of all the things I’ve forgotten, that I can’t remember what he looked like hurts me the most.

I’ve forgotten so many things I took for granted. So many little things about those I love. In writing, I hope I can remember at least a few- or at least, be reminded of them.

Raubahn has this deep belly laugh when I crack jokes with him- and really, he is the one constant patron of my puns, readily exchanging more with me for as long as we both have jokes to spare. Says it’s from years of being a father. I can’t remember how his laugh sounds.

Merlwyb would refuse to admit it- and if she ever catches wind of documentation of it, she’ll throw me to the Sahagin, of that I have no doubt- but I miss her singing. Low and rumbling as thunder, textured like velvet but fills the room like smoke. I’ve forgotten how the tune goes, which is ridiculous. I’ve heard her hum it a thousand times.

Aymeric...gods, for how he haunts my dreams you would think I would remember his smile. I should. I remember the things that made him smile. When I would bring sweets from that one chocolatier in town, or sweets from somewhere I had recently traveled. When I would move his bangs to kiss his forehead. Or sometimes...just when he looked at me. 

What shade of blue were his eyes? Were they a deeper shade like the night sky over the Steppe? Or was that the blue of his coat that I’m remembering? 

Why am I forgetting everything so quickly?! I have object permanence! It’s only been some moon and a sennight since I last saw everyone! I’m not some geriatric invalid rapidly losing who I am! I’m not some tempered thrall of a primal, adrift in want to serve my master and bereft of all concept of self! I am not-

(The following lines are writ with words made illegible with scribblings of ink and lines frustratedly crossed through them with enough force to nearly tear a hole in the paper. At the bottom, as if in triumph, there are only two more legible sentence:)

I am Serella Arcbane, and no one can take that from me. Not even a god.

Uthengentle:

Visited Ma over coffee this morning. I went fully intending to just say goodbye then and there. Made sense, I figured. We were leaving tomorrow.

I couldn’t say goodbye. I tried, Rhalgr knows I did. 

Had written a letter ahead of everything just in case. Only makes sense, given our line of work. Left that instead. Didn’t even have the stomach to say goodbye at the door. I left while she went to make another cup for me. I’ll have to apologize to her later. If we make it back.

...When. When we make it back. No sense in the doom and gloom; we’ve been through such shite before. Doubt this would be the end of it, either, but I can hope.

Ellie’s been having worse episodes with that voice, nearly passing out a time or two from what F’lhaminne told me. I hate I can’t be more help. I wish I could at least understand what she’s going through. All I get is headaches, sometimes a flash of an image, but it never bothers me. Krile suspects that has to do with Serella being more sensitive to aether and the Echo than I am. 

I just hope they stop once we leave. They should, right? If we’re going where we’re being called, they have no reason to keep callin’, I’d assume. Or their arseholes, and will do it anyway. Won’t matter. Let ‘em. We’ve got our family to save.

...Well. Some of ‘em. Still feels wrong to abandon everyone on the front lines. We should be there. The closer we get to leaving, the more ill I feel about it. From what Ellie said, she’s not faring much better in that regard. Said Aymeric told her to let them handle this fight, but he’s gotta know without us it could go either way. The man’s not stupid- none of ‘em are. Raubahn promised he’d defend the camp with his last breath...but I don’t want it to come to that.

Riol’s been scouting in Thancred’s place- from what he’s been able to gather, the Garleans are holding their cards to their chest. They have something big planned, and they’re just waiting for the right time to use it. Is that time when we’re out of the picture?

I hate that I don’t know, and I can’t find out before we leave.

I hate even more that we have to leave at all, but it’s clearly not something we have a choice in. Either we go to them, or we’re pulled to them. Better we still have our bodies and our senses and just bite the bullet. 

Warned Hilda to up the Watch with the Templars out of Ishgard. Not that she needs that warning; woman’s an unstoppable force already. It could be her and her alone standing at the gate if the Imperials march on Ishgard, and the safe money would still be on Hilda, far as I’m concerned.

I know my friends are capable without me around. I know they don’t need the Warriors of Light to keep them going. Doesn’t mean I don’t just want to be there to protect them- or failing that, die with them- and just fuck off to some far flung wherever.

We’ll be back before we know it. I’ll see to it myself if I have to.

Aymeric:

The battle continues into its fifth week, now. Though we have not lost an ilm to the Imperials, nor have they lost ground to us. Losses on both sides are mounting. We are hitting a breaking point, everyone can sense it. That there is a turning point fast approaching is not in question, but to which side the tide shall turn. 

O Halone shield your children from the encroaching dark, I beseech thee. 

The Warriors of Light make to leave in search of the Scions. The Alliance had to all but force them into leaving this battle to us, a turning point that came with the fear that (there is a name crossed out) the acting Antecedent had fallen to the same affliction that had claimed the rest. With her restored, however, they yet have hope to find those whose souls have been set adrift from this star. I only hope their path leads to victory, and then to home.

(the remainder of the entry is written in a different ink, presumably at a later point in time. The letters are splotched in places with drops of water.)

I nearly lost her. When Estinien laid her lifeless body in front of me, I feared the worst. We bore her to Ishgard with the full expectation that she would not wake. By the Fury, but when she did...

We are...no longer courting. I remind myself of this every time I am made to respond to one of her missives. That we are only separated by temporary obligation is beside the point: whatever relief I might have felt, whatever ache I carry in my chest will have to stay there, so long as she holds the title of Antecedent. 

Only for now. Another reminder to myself.

She yet shields me, even now, so far from the battlefield as she is made to be. Her promise still sits upon my hand. It shall do so unto death, and longer yet. I have already requested she not be allowed to take the ring from my finger. I have no need to be freed from it in Halone’s halls; regardless of her own heart, if I am the first to fall, then I will wait. I had long since decided thus, even before we were betrothed. 

I only wish I had not been so reserved with her for so long. I should have made more time for her. I swore to her I would never take her for granted and yet to dwell on our courtship, I always took her return as given. Now...now I only pray, and continue to fight that I might live to see her return.

(there are entire swaths of sentences scratched out, only some words such as, “promise,” “love,” and, “forgive,” are barely legible)

She must return. I know not what to do without her otherwise.

O Halone guide my beloved home in victory. 

[svtsweet]

Red

A/N: This is so cute uwu. Hoshi being a cute, blushy fluffball is the ultimate concept!

Soonyoung x Reader

Genre: Fluffffffffff

Summary: A distraction becomes a full on make out session with your boyfriend, your first actually. It doesn’t take long for both of you to realize that it’s not as easy as most make it out to be.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1700+

The only sound filling the kitchen is the scribbling of Soonyoung’s pencil. That, and your almost nonexistent page turning. Yes you both had work to do, you with homework and Soonyoung with a new choreography he is sketching into his journal, but you couldn’t skip past the boredom of it all. He’s usually so energetic, voice loud and body never ceasing to stop moving. Speaking of which, his lips form a cute pout as he taps the end of his pencil on the half-drawn page. He’s deep in thought, you can tell, and so you continue watching him as he tucks his bottom lip between his teeth, then release it to mouth a couple syllables. You’re hypnotized. The man sitting to your right is the hardworking Kwon Soonyoung, dedicated member of Seventeen and contributor to a majority of their choreography. And those pairs of lips that sit on his face are the same pairs of lips that kissed you just the other day. You don’t even realize how long you’ve been staring at him, mind recalling all the memories of your kisses when it suddenly hits you.

A light chuckle from Soonyoung is enough to bring you back to your senses. “What are you thinking about?”

You avert your gaze, a blush spreading on your cheeks as you look back down at your textbook. He caught you. No use in lying now. “You.”

“M-Me?”

You nod and scan over the endless words in front of you. Yet you can’t let your curiosity die. Glancing from the corner of your eye, you see the pencil in your boyfriend’s hand tap against the table. He’s not going to let this slide.

“What about me?”

You shrug, your eyes going back to the text. “I don’t know. Just about kissing you.” Although it’s not a lie, it’s not the absolute truth.

He shuffles in his seat and clears his throat. “Do you want to kiss me?”

You finally look up and almost fall out of your seat at how serious he is. It doesn’t take long to think of your answer, his lips so tempting and softly jutted, but you still can’t seem to find the right words. “I do but...”

You hesitate causing him to inch his chair closer to you. “Is something wrong?” He lowers his voice as if you aren’t the only two in your apartment. “Am I a bad kisser?”

You giggle and shake your head. “No, you’re a great kisser but-” You hang your head thinking about your next words carefully. “I was just thinking that we’ve never made out before?” Your statement is more of a question with the tilt in your voice as you neared the end. What is he going to think?

Hoshi takes in your words carefully, bobbing his head in understanding. “Do you want to try it?”

Your breath is caught in your throat at the sudden question. There’s nothing else you would rather do than to make out with him, hands roaming everywhere as his mouth moves sensually against yours. A chill passes down your spine at the thought of Soonyoung biting your lip and you have to grip the edge of your chair to keep yourself from fantasizing any further. Licking your lips, you nod. Hoshi’s mouth curves to a playful smile, the pink tint on his cheeks spreading even wider at your eagerness. He sets his pencil down and turns in his chair to face you. You copy him and carefully adjust so that your knees don’t bump into his. You raise a hand to his face but stop when you catch him doing the same. You both chuckle, his eyes creasing into crescent moons and his cheeks rounding out plushly. You decide to drop your hand and let him frame your face. You take the initiative to close your eyes, waiting for him to lean in. His lips attach to yours softly, almost cautious. You kiss him back, tipping your head into his warm palms as your hands make fists on your thighs. He hums into the kiss, his lips pressing firmly against yours. Slowly, your hand sneaks to his knee, your thumb drawing small circles as you prepare to inch it up his leg. Suddenly, his lips part from yours, a quiet laugh emitting from him.

“That tickles.”

You can’t help but laugh in return and move your hand up to his shoulder. So much for roaming your hands all over him. “I’m sorry.”

He grins in response, threading his fingers into your hair. You almost gasp as his hands press into your neck, fingers shaking in the slightest. Nothing on Soonyoung’s face indicates his nervousness but the closer you look, the sooner that idea shifts. A drop of sweat rolls by his eyebrow which twitches in unease. “Sure you are,” he says, his voice smooth and nothing like the image displayed in front of you. You smile to yourself at how cute he's being, jittery at your first mmake out session that your heart skips a beat.

Opting to leave it at that, you continue where you left off. He takes no time to go back to your original pace, lips molding into yours. You squeeze his shoulder feeling a slight tug from his teeth on your lower lip. A sigh is on the brink of tumbling from your mouth with him sucking and biting your swollen lip. Right as you allow yourself to relax into his treatment, you yelp. Pulling away frantically from his hold, you rub your red lips with your fingers. The indents of his teeth are so deep, you swipe your tongue over in search of the taste of blood. Luckily, only the salty taste of the chips you shared earlier is the only thing you find.

“That was too rough Soonyoung! You could have made me bleed.”

His ears flush with embarrassment and he hangs his head low enough for his bangs to cover his eyes. “Sorry. I think I might have gotten too carried away,” he mutters rubbing the back of his neck. He looks like a scolded puppy, you think. The soft spot you have for him has you smile gently at him for his efforts. It is your first time after all.

“Let’s keep trying.”

He raises his head in surprise, imaginary puppy ears perking at your words.

“Practice makes perfect,” you explain feeling a small blush begin to spread on your face.

Soonyoung gives you a shy smile and latches his hands to the back of your head, almost petting you. “I’ll try not to hurt you this time.” You scoff and roll your eyes playfully, but close them when he tilts his head. You pucker your lips waiting for him to attach his lips on yours again.

“Oh wait! Can I use tongue?”

The question catches you off guard and you stare at him blankly before nodding. “Yes, I suppose.” Before you can say anything else, he closes his eyes and begins to lean in. The idea swims in your head and you almost pry yourself away.

“I don’t know how to use it though,” you whisper as his lips brush against yours.

Soonyoung slumps back in his seat and cocks his head to the side as if the answer was written on his forehead. “Don’t you just move it around with the other person’s tongue?”

A frown plasters itself to your face at the thought. “That sounds gross. Are you sure?”

Now Hoshi returns your stare. “I don’t....know,” he confesses. “Hold on let me text Seokmin and ask him.” He pulls out his phone from his pocket but you quickly lower his hand with a ridiculous smile on your face. The nerve of this boy.

“Soonyoung, don’t ask him that!”

“Well, how are we supposed to know?”

You shrug as nonchalantly as you can despite the wave of heat that tickles your cheeks. “We could always try it.”

Soonyoung nods his head gently and leans back in, this time fully connecting his lips with yours. You wait patiently, almost jumping when you feel the tip of his tongue dab your lip. As smoothly as you can, you begin to open your mouth just enough for your tongue to poke through. Your tongue meets with his in a wet and sloppy dance that has you chuckling. You’re not sure if that is what has Soonyoung giggling, the movements of his tongue stopping momentarily. He carries on when your nails dig into the fabric of his shirt, encouraging him to continue. Then the sounds of your session make their way to your ears. It has you crease your brows in confusion. Were the both of you really that messy of kissers? Still, you try your best to focus on Soonyoung again, the way his nose skims over your cheek each time he pushes against you and the soft tufts of hair that brush your forehead. As much as you want this moment to last forever, your lungs beg to differ. Soonyoung catches on to this as he too is short of breath. His hands slide down your arms as he tucks his tongue back in his mouth. Your lips separate with a loud smack that causes both of you to flinch in your seats, but not as much as seeing the small trail of saliva that links your bottom lips together as you pull apart. Soonyoung apologizes profusely and wipes your bottom lip clean with his thumb. You try your best to hold back your laughter since he’s being really sweet but with how red his face is, every time you clear your mind of it, his lobster red cheeks draw you back in.

“What is it?” he asks noticing your pained expression.

You can’t hold back your laughter any longer. “I’m sorry Soonie! Your face is just so red!”

The previously quiet room is filled to the brink with your boisterous laughter. You have to keep a hand to your stomach with how hard you’re laughing and this only causes Soonyoung to flush even more as his eyes go wide.

“Ah, don’t laugh!”

He pouts at you, his hands leaving your shoulders to cover his face that begins to sweat. You immediately grab his hands, your laughter dying, and pull them to your lap. Patting them gently, you breathe in and out repeatedly to catch your breath. “Don’t hide your face. I find it really cute when you blush.”

Although the announcement has good intentions, it doesn’t stop him from scowling at you. “Don’t make me even more red!”

[lillaxtrigger]

Faded land: Chapter 9

The blistering sun bakes down upon the wastelands from the clear blue skies as Clara climbs up a towering incline. With most of her journey having been taken on foot upon countless miles this past month, she wonders how her legs haven’t given out by now. With very little breath to spare, she wishes for something that can get her through the wastelands faster along with refreshing her supplies, like a vehicle of some sorts, hopefully something with good mileage and air conditioning. Anything would work really, no matter how daft the concept might allude. Managing to drag herself atop the steep hill, she rises from the cracked grounds to lay her sites upon the city before her.

Columbus. From her point of view she notices something odd about the buildings in the city. There weren’t really as many of them broken as she anticipated. Sure, there were the city’s fair share of destroyed establishments, but for the most part, Columbus seemed to be normal. Even a couple of the sky scrapers looked not a day old. Looking over the entirety of Columbus, her hunger pushes her towards entering the city.

She walks to town, finding the streets below her feet to be free of cracks. The roads beside her looking to be just as repaired. Even the dirt looks to be gradually be supporting grass and tree saplings as she enters. The scientist then spots something dash along the corner of her eye and approaches to investigate. Around the corner, she finds people walking along the pavement streets, not overcrowded or in disarray like the last city she visited. Boy was that a cluster fuck. No, what really catches her attention was what the people traveling along the roads were traversing with. Animals, not just any animals, mutant beasts of all shapes and sizes the people were riding as steeds. Most of them were fused chimera’s of two or more animals. Seeing this network of traveling mutants racing along the roads both astonishes and overwhelms the scientist. Remembering her recent encounter with mutated animal life, she proceeds with cation.

As Clara slowly traverses through the patched up streets, she looks overhead to witness several people hanging around the buildings via ropes and sashes being supported by mutant beasts atop the roofs, patching and repairing any damages they’ve sustained. It seems like these people are taking an active effort to fix their city rather than let it rot. Good on them. Before she could progress gazing upon the working repair committee and their valiant efforts, Clara feels her stomach rumble out in utter protest. The hunger being painful enough to make her groan aloud. One wayward repair man hears the young ladies cries of hunger from below and slides down, asking her: “What’s the matter, little lady? Ya feel sick?” “So hungry…Haven’t eaten in days...” “Oh...Well, there’s a soup kitchen right around the corner. Sure they’ll be able to serve ya some grub.” the worker tells her, pointing over towards the corner behind him. “Here, let me take ya over-”. He turns back to find the girl had seemingly vanished. Thought confused, he shrugs off the affair and climbs back up to his patch job repairs.

A bowl of beef stew steams before Clara as she sits upon one of the tables beside a couple of unfortunate souls. She lifts up a spoonful of the soup with a piece of hearty potato’s to inspect for any odd discoloration or shape. Can’t be two careful after all, not after the incident on that weird as hell farm. Hmm...Looks okay. Color a normal shade of blonde. Sharp cut, but overall natural. She takes a light sip of the meaty juices that the mixture was submerged in. Yep. This is normal ass beef stew. Tasty ass stew too. So tasty in fact, that she can’t help but take the bowl and loudly scarf the stew down her empty gullet. Such a rather unpleasant display makes the people sitting beside her scoot away, not wanting any of the scientists flying drips to land into their soup. Finishing the stew, she puts down the bowl to take in a deep breathe and blow out a hearty sigh. “Ahh. That’s the good stuff.”

She returns the bowl back to a nearby dish rack, wondering to herself: “Now, what to do about food.” Just then, a colorful poster depicting a man riding atop a mutant steed like the ones she saw outside draws her attention. Under the rider was a description pertaining to an events of sorts relating to said picture. “Come ride in the annual Columbus mutant steed race. Winners shall receive a lifetime supply of canned goods for there spoils. Sign ups is at the Magmor Ranch…Hmm...”

Somewhere in the city, Clara arrives upon a wide fenced ranch. The middle of this giant fresh cut field is fitted with a practice track, riders racing through the dirt roads upon their mutant animal steeds. Though the doubt of mutated animals being safe to touch has shortly been buried, the site of them still freaks her out quite a smidge. A small phobia she’ll have to overcome quickly if she wants to participate. Looking about, she finds a white building besides the fenced off racetrack and enters.

Within, she finds a crowd of people standing about in the lobby, mingling to one another. At the end of the hall, she finds a clipboard with a bunch of names scribbled upon a grid sheet of paper. Assuming its the sign up sheet, she takes the pen on the side and tries to sign her name, but there was a small problem. Nearly all of the positions have been filled, counting nearly 30 people. She wonders if there’s even any room left on the paper to sign. But at the very bottom, she spots a single empty slot. Good thing she got here just in time, or she might have been outta luck. Without a single moment to hesitate, she quickly signs her name within the square slot. What now, she ponders. Will she be provided with a steed of her own? What kind of freak of nature will she have to mount? Questions that begin to swell as she looks about for any kind of official help on the matter.

The scientist then spots a man over a counter filing paper work. An employee? She swiftly approaches the counter and grabs the attention of the office worker. “E-Excuse me.” she utters. The man looks over the counter and finds Clara awaiting his attention. “Hello, miss. What can I do ya for?”. “Um, I just entered in the races and was wondering if there were any animals left for me to ride?”. “Ehh...I don’t really know...One second.”. The official turns away from his client, asking out loud towards his fellow employee: “Hey, Judas! Do we have any more trainers left?”. “Not sure. Have you tried Isabel?” the fellow employee questions. “I think she’s already taken.”. “What about Rico. No one’s had him for years.” another employee mentions. “Oh yeah. Forgot about him.”. Turning back to Clara, he tells the scientist: “Kay, turns out we do have one more trainer left. Rico, the one that lives across town.”. The employee rips out a piece of paper from a wayward notebook and jots down what looked to be an address. “Here’s his address. Fair warning. Guys a huge prick. You sure you don’t wanna wait until next year?”. “Can’t. I’m a very busy girl.” as she takes the scrap of paper.

Asking for directions towards the address in question leads her down a rather old and barren part of town. Much in contrast towards the part of Columbus she entered from, the streets she walked on were crumbled and full of cracks in turn with the ill crossed roads beside her. The buildings and homes that were still standing didn’t look like they had much time left before they collapsed. Typical post apocalypse affair in all honestly. Maybe the cleanup crew hasn't gotten here yet. The few residents that lived around here led her towards where this Rico guy might be staying.

Aside from the complete abandonment of the neighborhood, she finds the address she had been searching for. Only one house on the street stood that wasn’t in shambles. And even then, it didn’t look all that presentable. Well, there really isn’t anywhere else this Rico guy could live around here, really. Has to be his place. Approaching the shack, the front door suddenly swings open. Out from the doorway stood a man with clown make up on, aiming a pistol towards Clara’s head. “Stay the hell away from my shack!” he roars. She backs away from the armed carnie, falling upon the shattered streets as she holds her hands high in the air. The scientist wondering how many times its been that she’s been on the opposite end of awaiting fire arms and came out unscathed thus far. Quite a number of lucky breaks, isn’t it? The scientist hopes that this encounter won’t be any different, but doubt creeps into her mind as the man before her seems to be leaving not the best impression. “I’m fucking sick of you riders coming over and tearing up my home! I’ve had it!”. “A-Are you Rico?” the scientist wonders. “Who hell wants to know?”. “My name is Clara. I’m wanting to enter the race.” she answers the clown. The man lowers his weapon, an astonished looked was painted alongside his clown make up. The surprise quickly turns into laughter that echoes through the broken neighborhood. The laughter ceasing, he asks: “Alright. Who the hell put you up to this? Was it Manfred? Fucking dick. No no, gotta be Oppela. That bitch always had a sick sense of humor. Maybe it was Derack. That asshole doesn’t know the meaning of the word stop.”. “No one put me up to this. The guys over that the ranch told me to come here. Saying you were the only trainer left.”. Hearing her answer, Rico groans, adding: “Of course. What else could it be?”. The clown man turns back towards the inside of his home, telling his guest to: “Come on in. Fill you in on the details.”. Watching the supposed trainer go back inside, she picks herself of the cracked concrete and cautiously follows the man in.

Coming inside, the scientist found the inside almost as decrepit as the outside. The furniture within looked old and torn up, being vaguely repaired at the least to keep from breaking down. Waving through the air was a strong musk mixed with a vaguely rotting scent. How does this guy live like this? Clara takes a seat upon the fragile sofa, hearing the wood and springs within loudly creaking. She feels like just the slightest impact could snap it in two. “So you that desperate to enter the race, are ya? You sure you don’t wanna wait til next year and try your luck with a different trainer?”. “I don’t really have much choice. Gotta get supplies and get outta town as fast as I can.”. “On the run, huh? Alright then, come on. Let me show ya your steed.”. “A-Already? You haven’t even introduce yourself or apologize for aiming your gun at my-”. “Kid, we got three days til the big grand prix. We need to speed this shit along, asap. Come on.”. “Jeez, fine.”.

The clown leads the scientist out towards the back of the withered shack, where out stood a tiny stable. Looking inside, she find the mutant steed she would be riding with in the race, a large bear spider. Its eight fuzzy legs attached to a big, but skinny body that boasted a grizzly head with slumbering six eyes. “Oh my god!” Clara exclaims. “Yep. A genuine bear spider. She’s a real beaut alright.”. Rico crouches down to the sleeping ursa arachnid and gently shakes her head. “Come on Angelo. Time to get up. We got a new rider for ya.” he gently tells the bear spider. Angelo slowly opens her six eyes, gazing upon her trainer and the person that’d be riding her. Letting out a soft groan as she rises from the dirt, her legs wobble as she tries to stand, like a newborn deer fresh into the world. Hearing the mutant ursa groan much louder, Rico pulls out a can of food as he comforts the starving beast. “Sh sh shh. I know your starving. Gimme a sec”. Using a pocket knife, the trainer cuts open the can of beans and feeds them to Angelo, to which the beast swiftly devours, her trainer holding the can as she eats. After the contents are quickly consumed, Rico drops the can and asks the bear: “You feel better?”. The bear spider gives a satisfied growl in response. “Good. Good.”. Getting back up, the clown man turns to Clara, commanding: “Okay. Snap to it.”. “Excuse me?”. “Gotta get on the beast.”. “You want me to ride that?”. “Well duh, you gotta ride it. How the hell are ya supposed enter the race if you can’t even get on the steed?”. Clara looks towards her potential steed, seeing Angelo's beady eyes staring right towards her. Slowly starting to take the approach, she reluctantly reaching her hand out towards the mutant bears head. “Come on, kid. She ain’t gonna bite.” Rico impatiently blurts out. “Gimme a second! Last encounter with a mutant animal didn’t go so well for me, okay.”. As her palm closes in towards the mutants head, Clara braces herself by tightly shutting her eyes. Her grasp fills with fuzz, she opens her eyes and finds that Rico was right. This beast is completely docile. She shifts her grip towards Angelo’s neck, feeling the fuzz trickle through her palm. This gives her the gumption to try and mount the ursa arachnid. She slowly climbs up upon Angelo’s back, seating herself on the leather saddle placed atop the beast. From her view, she towers over the trainer, the top of her head grazing the roof of the small stable. It almost make her feel, powerful, mounting such a fearsome looking monster. “Wow.”. “First time riding a steeds?” Rico guesses. “First time riding...anything. I’ve never even driven a car before, much less a mutant animal.”. “Congrats. Time to ride.”. “N-Now?”. “Yeah now. Gotta get Angelo in shape by the time the race rolls around and get you up to speed on riding a steed.”.

In the streets out in the front of the clowns home, Clara was trying to keep her balance atop the bear spider as they rode along the crumbled roads. The trainer reluctantly watches as Clara tries to forcefully turn Angelo, tugging the ropes along her mouth, but having no luck as the ursa simply shakes her about. “Come on! Just turn already!” the scientist complains, her steed groaning in refusal. The bears constant struggling eventually makes Clara fall of her back upon the cracked concrete below. “Agh! Ow! What’s the matter with this bear spider? I can’t get it to go anywhere I want it to.”. “She” is just fine, kid. It’s you that’s whats the matter.” she hears Rico say, the clown staring her down over head. “What do you mean by that.?” Clara wonders as she gets back up from the pavement. “I mean that you can’t force Angelo around like a car or a truck. Its a living creature, like you and me. You gotta respect her as one, ca-peesh!”. “Oh...Guess you have a point there. Sorry.”. “Try telling her that?” Rico demands, pointing towards the mutant steed in question. The ursa’s gaze shifting away from the two in a huff. The scientist approaches the mutant beast, putting her hand on Angelo's side and apologizing with: “Uh, s-sorry...About being too rough with you. I’m just not used to riding, well...Anything really.”. Hearing this, the steed pivots her head slightly towards her rider. “I’m promise not to be as rough when steering you around, alright?”. With that, the mutant ursa fully turns, answering with an appreciative groan.

Getting back atop the bear spider, she grabs hold of the ropes as she seats herself upon the saddle. “I didn’t realize that riding a steed would be so hard.”. Clara remarks. “Gotta build trust with her first. That way, she’ll listen to ya. Got it.”. “I think so.”. The scientist gazes forward, seeing the broken road ahead. Taking in a deep breath to calm herself, she asks the steed beneath her: “Okay girl. Let get a move on.”. On command, the ursa arachnid goes forth, slowly crawling along the cracked streets. Upon coming towards the end of the road, the scientist commands her steed to: “Now, lets turn around.” she asks, pulling the rope to the left. As instructed, Angelo turns away from the end and back towards Rico. Seeing how slow they’re going,  she gently whips the rope, giving the order to: “Kay. Let’s pick up the pace.”. With slight gusto, the bear spider speeds up, its many legs scrambling at a brisk pace. Clara sees them quickly approaching Rico upon the side of the road. A little too quickly. Oh god! Too fast! They’re gonna crash into him! The scientist pulls hard on her steeds reins in an effort to break. Both rider and trainer worried about the potential accident, they yell out towards the ursa: “Stop!”. Angelo grinds to a halt, her head inches away from Rico’s clown face. All of them let out relieved sighs upon dodging such a close call. “Phuw...sorry about that. Didn’t realize how fast she could pick up speed.”. “It’s alright. Happens to all of us. I think we should maybe take this whole practice somewhere a little more open.”. “Like where?”. “Don’t know. You’re choice, I guess.”. Thinking for a second, her mind immediately goes towards an obvious choice. “I think I might know a place.”.

Guiding both her new steed and its trainer, she takes the two back to the ranch, many a riders racing through the dirt track around the establishment. “Here we are. Should get in a ton of practice riding around here. Ya know, I didn’t notice before but some of the mutants here actually look kinda cool. There’s a rabbit wolf, a rhino cheetah, lion pig, gorilla kangaroo, gecko zebra, horse crocodile, monkey frog. Rico, are all the animals around here chimera’s like this?”. Looking over towards the trainer, she finds him to frightened to respond, simply giving a horrified glare. “Uh...Rico…You okay?”. “What...the...fuck is wrong with you!?” he curses. “What?”. “Why in the ever loving piss stains did you bring us here of all place!?”. “I thought it was a good place to practice.”. The ursa arachnid lets out a frightened groan, its 8 legs gradually backpedaling away from the dirt track. “This is absolutely one of the worst places we can possibly practice! We need to book it hell outta here right this fucking second!”. “Alright, Geez. Don’t need to be so pushy.” Clara sasses as she turns the spider bear around. “We gotta hurry, before anyone notices we’re-”. “Rico?” someone wonders. “Son of a bitch.”.

Clara turns around, seeing one of the riders eye them from behind. It was a punk looking rider atop the rhino cheetah that was racing through the track a moment ago. It’s muscularly tone legs and sharp horn could decimate anything it would swiftly charge through Between its horn, the beast eyes coldly stare at the three, Angelo beginning to inch away in fear. Quite the deadly adversary. “What the hell are you doing back here?” the punk threatens. With a sigh, the clown man unenthusiastically responds with: “Hello Derake.”. “Who’s he?” The scientist wonders. “That is the Derby Champion.”. “Four years running, you mean. You wanna tell me what a jackass like you is doing back on the track?” “Not really. Just about to leave actually.” he responds, heading towards the exit. “What’s you’re hurry for?” someone laughs as they cut them off from the way out.

Angelo comes to a sudden halt as she was faced with a scaly stallion. Blocking their way out was a kooky looking woman dressed in what would normally be way too much green leather. However, the overboard attire did match the fierce crocodile horse she was mounting. A bite from its sharp set of teeth would leave anybody in a bleeding mess. “You guys just got here and party’s just getting started.”. The horse gator under her gives a deep growl, making Angelo back way. “Whoa whoa, who’s she?” Clara questions. “Oppela. Silver medal.” Rico answers. After a sinister giggle, the croc rider wonders: “And who’s this cute marshmallow you managed to sucker in?” Looking towards Clara, she asks her: “Let me guess, he bribed you, didn’t he?”. “Well actually-”. “I don’t bribe people, Oppela. What would I even bribe her with?”. “A fair point. You live in such a squalor.” somebody with a distinguished accent points out.

Turning back, they set their sites upon a well suited aristocratic man atop an ape kangaroo hybrid. The mixture of the upper body strength of a gorilla spliced with the lower of a kangaroo made for such a powerful combination and it knew this. The chimera proudly puffs its chest in dominance, standing atop its toes. “It’s a miracle you’ve managed to survive for as long as you have.”. “And he is…?” Clara tries to fish for answers. “Manfred. Stuck in 3rd place.” Rico throws out. “At least I’m ahead of the curb. You’ve barely managed to scrape your way out of last.”. “Hang on, what?” The scientist wonders, turning towards the trainer. “He didn’t tell ya toots? Old Rico here’s never managed to snag a win in his career.” the punk stated. “Always close to dead last. It’s so pathetic.” the leather woman adds. The clown man can’t help but look away, wordlessly confirming their accusations. As their laughter dies down, the aristocrat returns the question at hand, saying: “I believe there’s still a question afoot here. Young lady, why exactly did you choose Rico of all participants?”. “Uhh-”. “Yeah, come on. Fess up. What he do to ya?” the Derake wonder. “Nothing, I-”. “Then what’s the deal here?” Oppela pushes. “Um...” Clara stall, looking back towards Angelo’s trainer. She turns back towards the other riders, admitting: “He...was the only one left.”. The riders surrounding them awe in realization with Derake adding: “There it is.”

“Young miss. I suggest you quit now. Riders under Rico’s employee do not last very long.” Manfred suggests. “Can’t really quit. Gotta win the prize and split town.”. “Well then, guess we gotta make you quit then, do we.” Oppela tell her. “Excuse me.”. “You heard what she said. Either bail or we’ll make you bail.” Derack corrects. The riders surrounding threatening them inch closer, boxing them in. “See, this shit is why I didn’t wanna come here. Got any more bright ideas?”. Rico sarcastically questions. “Just one.” Clara answers. Turning towards her future attackers, she tries to distract them with the question: “Hold on a minute. Before you guys beat us like a meat processing facility on overdrive; Answer me this: The three of you obviously really good. But tell me; Who among you is the best?”. This old trick can’t possibly work. They’d have the brains of dead sea monkeys in hopes of them actually falling for it. But what other option is there? She’s got nothin left. “Ha ha. That’s a fucking easy one. It’s me.” Derake respond. “Hold on a second. That’s a load of BS, man. It’s gotta be me.” Oppela rudely retorts. “Sorry, who the hell is the derby champ again? That’d be me bitch.”. “We’ve all been champion at one point, Derake. Simply owning the title isn’t a measure of worth.” Manfred cuts in. “Alright asshole. How many times have you won?”. “Certainly more than either of you.” Manfred answers. “Really? Cause last I remembered, you’ve only won 4 times in your whole career. I on the other hand got 7 wins under my belt.” Oppelo counters, breaking the box that they were using to trap their victims. “That’s cute. I’ve been in the game longer then either of you and all that really doesn’t even come close to my 10 winning, with a 4 years winning streak bonus!” the punk boasts. As the three rivals prattled on with their horrendously clashing egos, Clara, Rico, and Angelo use the opportunity to attempt their escape, crawling their way towards the exit. “I can’t believe that old shitty trick worked.” Rico remarks. “Honestly, I’m just as surprised as you are.” Clara adds. In their ramblings, Derake glances over and notices their prey escaping, breaking the entire debacle by shouting: “Hey! The fuck do you think you’re going!?”. The others take notice, their scowls locking on them. “Shit! Bolt it!”.

Ditching the stealth approach, they rush towards the exit in hopes of making a swift escape. Oppela speeds right around them and blocks their only way out, her horse croc threatens with its sharp set of fangs. Manfred jumps towards their direction, threatening to crush them under his beasts heels. Angelo dashes out of the way of the gorillaroo’s strong kick. Feeling the earth tremble beneath their feet, they glance back and witness Derack lunging towards them. They barely escape the strong charge, feeling the raw power behind the rhino cheetahs dash as it passes. Clara looks around and sees nobody coming to their aid. The other riders and the officials simply watching as this pursuit plays out. Looking towards the exit showed a couple of them even shutting the ranch gates, trapping them withing the enclosure. What’s the matter with them? Why are they letting this happen? Why is nobody helping? Questions that race through Clara’s mind as she formulates a plan of escape from their pursuers. Finding a jumping fence coming up, Clara asks the trainer: “Suppose Angelo can’t jump right?”. “Not really, no.”. She opts to go around the brittle fence, hearing the sound of breaking wood behind them, which catches Rico’s attention.

Alarmed, the trainer pulls on Clara’s shoulder to grab her attention, warning: “Uh, kid. Rhino cheetah’s inbound.”. She looks over the trainers shoulder and finds that his warning was correct. Derack was catching up fast. Looking ahead, she nears the edge of the ranch fencing. Beyond the open fields laid the rest of the city. She could probably lose their pursuers if she manages to escape the enclosure. Swiftly, she turns away, leaving Derack to crash into the picket fence. Peeking back, she finds the blunt impact of charge to buckle the fencing. Another punch like that should be more than enough to break through.

She plans to come around again, when her turning is halted by Manfred, nearly jumping upon them. Looking up, Clara sees the aristocrat, bouncing high in the air for another stomp. “I fancy myself a good hunt.” he declares as he plummets towards them. She weaves Angelo around the track to avoid the hopping mutants. Dashing away from the gentleman bouncing assault and running through the race track.

They see Oppela and her horse croc riding up ahead, threatening to run them over. Clara looks back, seeing Manfred ready for another jump. An idea pops into her head. She faces forward, both Rico and Angelo wearing looks of concern, as if worried why their rider wasn’t slowing down. “Uh, kid. Think you might wanna hit the breaks.” he warns. “Both of you gotta trust me on this. I got an idea.”. “Does that idea involve us not ending up being chewed alive like a tasty meat stripe?”. A panicking whimper escapes from the bears maw as they drive ever closer. Oppela coming up, they see the horse croc to be exposing its sharp teeth. “Come on, little marshmallow, I wanna take a bite outta ya!” the leathery woman demands. Closer and closer both riders come, Clara waiting for the right moment as the opposing mutant readies to bite. Once they were close enough, Clara makes an immediately turns away from the gaping maw of the beast, narrowly dodging its clasping maw. Oppela turns her gaze towards Clara as she passes by, witnessing the scientist taunting her with her tongue out. “Grr, god dammit!” she curse. Manfred sees his leathery rival riding near as he plummets down towards her. Unable to stop his descent, he tries to instead warn her by shouting: “M’lady! Look out!”. But by the time Oppela notices him, it was far too late. Both their mutant steeds collide with one another, resulting in quite the inter species crash. “Yes!” Clara cheers. “Damn!” Rico astonishes.

They’re short lived celebration was halted when they hear the sound of heavy stomping behind them. Looking back, Clara sees Derack passing though his rivals, chasing them once more. “So, is part of your grand plan too?” the clown man questions. “Kind of. Just need to lure him back around.” the scientist answers. She then makes a sharp turn and dashes towards the charging mutant. “Not this shit again!” Rico shouts. This game of chicken however had far less risk, because Clara didn’t wait until the last moment to move aside. Instead she dashes away beyond the rhino cheetahs sharp horn and sets her sites upon the buckled part of the fencing. Looking back, they find Derake skidding across the grassy fields of the ranch to make a quick turn back towards his prey. Clara then stops Angelo right in front of the broken fencing, the usra’s trainer asking her: “What the hell are you doing? We gotta charging rhino cheetah coming up on our asses fast.”. “I know. Just gimme a second.” Clara stresses, turning her steed towards the right of the fence. “You really like putting me through this anxious bullshit, don’t you!?”. Both of them observe their punk pursuer approaching, quickly closing the distance. While the scientist remains a little nervous, both the trainer and the ursa arachnid are thrust into an utter shutter on the thought of being flattened like a Sunday morning breakfast pastries cover in bloody syrup. Clara’s moment was near, now was the best time for her to take action. “Now!”. She urks Angelo forward, dashing her out of the lunging beasts charge. Just as she predicted, Derack crashes through the enclosure, giving them their means of escape. Clara doesn’t waste a single moment with her exit, dashing quickly out from Magmor ranch. Dashing away as punk rider witnesses them in the midst of their escape. As Oppela and Manfred pick themselves and their steeds out of the crash, they hear their rival ordering them to: “Get up, you assholes! They’re getting away!”. Quickly, the riders mount their respective steeds and join Derack in his pursuit.

Crawling away from the ranch, they quickly find themselves racing through the streets, passing by countless other mutant driver in their escape. Rico looks back to find their three pursuers turning the corner and racing after them. He then looks down upon his beast and finds Angelo to be tiring out, her legs losing their luster. “What now, genius? Angelo here’s running outta steam and those bastards are still gunning for us.”. “You said Angelo was part spider, right?”. “Yeah. What of it?”.

Their pursuers witness them turning the corner around an apartment complex. The riders quickly follow and find their prey to have vanished, only seeing the setting sun in the distance. “The hell did they go?” Derack screeched. “They seemed to have vanished. Not a trace of them left to investigate.” Manfred concludes “You sure they pissed off down here?” Oppela asks. “I swear I saw them turn this way.”. “Perhaps your vision deceives you, Derack. Your years fleeting with your site.”. the aristocrat snarks. “What’d you say, you little piss ant?” the punk growls. “Guys got a point, mate. You did say you’ve been in the game longer than any of us. Maybe your age is finally catching up with you.”. Both rivals bombard the rhino rider with both snotty and maniacal laughter. “Shut the hell up.” Derack hollers in a huff, all three of them parting from the chase.

Unaware for any of them, their prey had been clinging high above the building right next to them. Angelo’s paws stick towards the apartment complexes brickwork like quick drying brick cement glue. Clara and Rico perched atop the beasts side to keep from falling off. “How long could he do this?” the trainer questions. “You mean you never thought once to try this?” Clara asks. “No. I always thought Angelo’s paws were too smooth to stick to anything.”. Crawling down from the wall, the scientist then asks the clown man: “Kay, now I got a question. What was that hot mess about?”. “What was what about?”. “That stuff back at the ranch. Why did everyone just stand and watch while those bastards attacked us!? On top of that, why did they attack us in the first place!?”. “What are you, new in town? This shits been a part of Columbus for over 37 years.”. “I literally just got into town today.”. “God dammit!”. The clown inhales a massive breath and exhales before explaining: “Alright, I hate explaining shit, so I’ll make this history lesson brief. Basic gist is that since gas for cars got scarce, people shifted towards riding these mutated animals. Lot less of a hassle anyway, kind of. They use them for everyday life and have help Columbus to get back on its feet into a working society. Racing them has become such a celebrated sport around here that it draws in more of a crowd than a religious holiday bonanza blowout special. As expected, winners are looked up to as heroes while losers are treated as dog shit. Which is why I’m not exactly the winner of any popularity contests around here.”.

Rico makes her get off the bear spider so that he take the reins. “Alright, see ya tomorrow.” he says just as he’s about to leave. “Wait!” Clara shouts. The clown comes to a sudden halt, peeking back towards the scientist, asking: “What is it now, kid?”. “Ehh, well. It’s kinda funny. I don’t really have anywhere to sleep, per say. I was hoping that maybe I could stay at your...” she awkwardly urges. Upon hearing this, Rico goans aloud, reluctantly offering her with: “Fine, I’ll let you crash at my place.”. “Yes!”. “But I ain’t feeding ya, got it? Barely got enough for me and Angelo here.”. With that, the trainer leaves the scientist to her own devices, who was wondering where she might stumble upon more food.

Exiting from the soup kitchen, she licks her lips as she rubs her warm stomach, mentioning: “Ahh, soup kitchen food never tasted so good.”. Coming down from her satisfaction, she begins to ponder with: “Still. I can’t keep going back and forth through town just to grab a bite. I need to refresh my supplies. But how? I don’t have any money. Do they even use money around here.” As if of sheer happenstance, a wagon full of canned goods passed by the scientist, whose eyes catches the cargo as it travels down upon the road. The scientist drops the whole money notion entirely and smiles in favor of a far more sneakier method. She really didn’t really have any cash on hand anyway, if they even used currency, that is.

The humble wagon puller stops upon the back of a small market, the rider mounting of her steed to unload her cargo. Clara peeks around the corner, waiting for the chance to swipe just one box of the canned goods. Some people take a couple of the boxes and head inside. Almost half of them are gone. Her moment passing, she sneaks forth towards the wooden wagon, careful so that no one spots her. Peeking into the back, she swipes one of the boxes and flees with her new coveted set of prizes.

She hides within a nearby alley, peeking around the corner to check if anyone followed her. Looks like the coast is clear. Clara looks upon her spoils. A single box of goods containing approximately 12 cans. Jackpot! This should be enough to last her days on end. A little bit of a heavy load, but the scientist is ecstatic from her ill gotten gains. But guilt begins to weight on her consciousness like a slab of crushing pavement. Not from the stealing, no. The shame from thievery long being numb. What truly burdened her mind was a statement left by the animal trainer in his departing words. “Barely got enough for me and Angelo here.”. Those words plant within her sympathy that begin to sprout. He is letting her stay at his place for the night. Suppose it’s only fair to share her newly appropriated goods.

Trekking back to the shack, Clara finds the inside to be relatively empty, accompanied with only the glow of the dim ceiling light illuminating the living room. She doesn’t seem to notice Rico anywhere. Maybe he’s tending to Angelo? Or maybe he went to sleep, who knows. Just in case, he hollers for the trainer to come out. “Rico? You in here? I brought home a surprise.”. Even though her words echo through the home, they fail to bait a response.

Entering the kitchen, she looks out through window towards the backyard. She finds Angelo snug within her cute little stable, but still doesn’t see any sign of her trainer. Where is he? The scientist jumps when the lights come on without warning. She quickly turns around and finds the clown once again starring her down with his loaded pistol, grabbed in only a shirt and his underpants. “Whoa, hey! It’s just me! Just, p-put the gun down!” she urges him. Complying, Rico groans out load, asking her: “So, do you normally just barge into peoples homes like this? Cause that’s the quickest way to get a bullet lodged in your brains.”. “Uh, sorry. Thought you wouldn’t mind if I just myself in. It was getting dark. “Oh really? Guess that makes things okay then, don’t it? Honestly, your lucky that I’m letting you stay here.”. “Oh, a-about that. I wanted to share something that I found, with you. Just a way of saying thanks for not making me sleep on the streets.”. She lays the box of cans atop the dining table in the middle of the kitchen. “Ta da!” she presents. Rico takes a closer look at the scientists gift, immediately assuming: “You stole this. Didn’t you?”. “What? No. No. I never do something like that. Come on, man.” she tries to deny. Although the guilt of stealing has long been numbed, getting caught was another matter in of itself. Her insincere chortling quickly diminishes as she finds her host staring at her with a disbelieving glare. Clearly, he’s not buying any of it. She drops the act with a defeated sigh, insisting on asking him: “How did you guess?”. “Probably should have took the cans out of the damn box first. That’s a dead giveaway.” the clown elaborates. “You’re not gonna rat me out?”. “Nah, long as you didn’t get caught, I don’t give a shit.”. “Wow, um...Okay, neat.”. Although she wondered why the trainer was so lenient, she counts her luck and refuses to press on. “So, uh where do I sleep exactly?”. “You can sit your ass on the couch for the night.”. “Whoo, thanks.”.

Clara gently rests herself upon the rickety sofa, careful not to break her temporary bedding. Although she’s thankful that it isn’t the cold hard ground, she struggles to feel comfortable against the itchy texture of the couch. Sitting up, she requests to her host: “You don’t got a blanket, do you?”. “This look like a five star hotel to you?”. “Not even one?”. “I only have one.”. From above, a piece of the roof crashes upon the scientist, making her look up towards the ceiling as she rubs her head. The roof has obviously seen better days, countless chips and cracks decorate the ceiling like broken glass. “God. This place is a war zone. How can you live in such squalor?”. “Don’t really have much of a choice. This is all the Colombian government will give me.”. “What?”. “Remember how I said how derby racing ties to popularity, ties into social statues too. Those closer to first are better off, while those near dead last are left to with next to nothing. Don’t even give me enough to feed me and Angelo. It’s why she’s so skinny.”. “So, the government here expects you not only to live and take care of Angelo, but to try and win with what little you’re given with?”. “Yep, even if there were only two racers, they lean more towards the first.”. “That’s…Bullshit!”. “Yep. But that’s the way it’s always been here. These people take derby racing seriously over the well being of others. Its why I always steal food whenever I can. If the they’re gonna try and screw me, I have no problem screw them back”. “Oh…”. That would explain how he knew about the stolen cans. “Well, why can’t you just, quit and get a different job?”. “Can’t. Not without risking Angelo.”. “What do you mean?”. “I don’t know what they’ll exactly do to her if I quit. Likely process her for her weird bear spider meat or something.” Rico concludes, looking towards the kitchen window. Clara join his gaze towards Angelo’s stable. “I can’t begin to fathom the guilt I’d feel over it. It’d to much for me to bear...Nn, no pun intended.”. “Well, how bout this. If I win, then I’ll split the prize with you. Nearly a lifetime supply of food should last you and Angelo a long while.”. She hears the clown give a light chuckles, snickering with: “Good luck with that. Competitions borderline deadly.” Rico sees the scientist laying down upon his broken sofa with a gloom sigh. He tries to lift her spirits by offering: “Tell you what. How bout I pick somewhere for us to practice tomorrow.”. “Like where?” she wonders, looking towards the trainer with a questioning stare.

Upon the morning, they arrive towards a wider, largely desolate part of the city. The larger fair of buildings around them remind Clara of lot of the homes on Rico’s streets, broken, withered, lack of color, could topple any minute, same business really. Only difference were the much more wider roads and crosswalks sharing the same motif that made the perfect  track. A much larger course than the one over at Magmor ranch, if not as clean or up kept, but thankfully not as populated with clearly overcompensating douche bags. “Ta da...” the clown presents with little enthusiasm. “What’s with this place. Has the clean up crew not got here yet?” Clara guesses. “Not really. Can’t figure out to get ride of the bigger buildings without it turning into a safety hazard. No one ever comes here. Which makes it the perfect place for us to practice.”. “You want me to race around here?”. “Yep.”. The trainer hopes off the bear spider, patting the beasts side as he tells the rider: “Now get to it.”. Staring out towards the streets ahead, she worries about the exact integral structure of some of the buildings. “Are you sure this place is safe?”. “Kid, we can’t worry about safety when we’re on a deadline here. We got two days til the big race. Gotta get in as much practice as we can before them. Beside you won’t gotta worry about safety during the race anyway.”. “Why?”. “See, thing is, you won’t just be outrunning the competition. You’ll be fighting them back for your life.”. “What!? They’’ll be gunning to kill me!? How is that allowed!?”. “Do I really need to explain the whole derby being more important than human life thing again?”. “Well, why didn’t you warn me about it sooner!?”. “God, sorry. Figured that the whole fiasco at the race track might’ve tipped you off by now.”. Upon being given this harrowing news, Clara growls aloud, echoing through the empty block. Her frustration dying down, she gives an exhausted sigh, wondering: “Can I least get a weapon to defend myself?”. “Does it look like I have any weapons on hand?”. “What about that pocket knife you carry?”. “My can opener!? Hell no! I ain’t risking losin that!...Hang on. You’re still going for the race knowing it’ll be a bloody Mary bath house ? Why?”. “Like I said back at the track, need to refresh supplies and get back on the road asap. Figure this might just be my fastest shot.”. “That much in a hurry, huh? You late for a date with death or something? Gonna catch a moving then go out to eat before 69ing each other at the end?”. “Gee, Rico. You’re such a gentleman. It’s so heartwarming how much you care.” the scientist sarcastically remarks. “Talked long enough. Time to get in some practice.”. “Fine.”. With nothing else left to discuss, Clara sets off towards the broken roads ahead.

The long stretch of cracked concrete, she figured it was safe to test how fast her steed could crawl. “Alright girl, lets she how much horsepower you got.”. The rider whips the bear spiders reins, making the ursa speed along throught the once might urban jungle Her legs rapidly crawl through the streets, carrying both of them through the streets at a surprisingly astounding speeds. The decayed buildings around them were starting to blur in their galloping sprint. Winds blowing upon the scientist face, her hair riding along the ongoing draft. The cooling breeze felt so good, tempting her to shut her eyes as she basks in the peaceful sense that the acceleration brought. Before she could fully grasp such an amazing feeling, she notices the turn quickly approaching. She snap out of her euphoric daze and swiftly pulls the reins in an effort to prevent a potential accident. Clara manages to turn about just in the nick of time, Angelo tilting upon the sudden turn. Both of them regain their balance, the mutant ursa planting her feet firmly on the concrete. That was way too close. A second too late and both of them might have wound up becoming gruesome graffiti art with excessive amounts of red.   It might be of best interest to keep herself free from distractions as much as possible when riding atop such a swift beast. A thought that crosses her mind as she continues down the ruined roads.

The block ahead of them looked far more decrepit then the rest of the neighborhood. Whole chunks of concrete road risen and fallen under the exposed dank sewer lines below. No man nor beast could practically hope to cross this horrid mess of dilapidation. She thinks about stopping, ready to pull back in the reins of her mutant steed, but something ahead catches her eye. Next to the destruction was a set of sizable buildings. In need of repair, but look stable enough. Nearing the hole down to the sewer line, she steers her arachnid towards the architect in question without halting her forward momentum. Just as she had hoped, Angelo latches onto the outer walls of the buildings, quickly crawling through their decayed surfaces. Successfully crossing over the abhorrent example of property damage, the scientist steers her steed back towards the ground and continues through the district.

The next obstacle Clara could see obstructing her path was a rather large, and toppled piece of architecture. It’s shattered and pointed rubble laid astrewn across the cracked concrete block, not a single space to squeeze through. The scientist wonder that perhaps she should brake and find a different route. But why stop now? She has Angelo climb through the broken mess of the hefty abode, the bear spider crawling along bits of rough concrete. Seemed that no matter how severely rough the rubble had become, the fuzzy arachnid could rush right through with little to no ramifications. Angelo has been proving to be full of surprises. Wonder what else she might be capable of?

Both of them loop back around towards where Rico had been awaiting. They stop right next to him, Clara mentioning: “Hey Rico, uh...So how many laps do you figure I gotta go around.”. “Laps? Oh uh! Actually, it be best if you pick different routes at random each lap. That way you be prepared for whatever random course the race is set up on.” “Random course? What do you mean?”. The trainer gives out an exhausted sigh, halfheartedly explaining to her: “Every year, the committee maps out a different route around the city. The only way racers know the where to go with is blue tape set up along the roads, informing both riders and citizens of the designated racetrack.”. “Wait, the whole city? I have ride around all of Columbus in one go!?”. “There are checkpoints that you have to stop at, but basically yes. Why do you think I want you and Angelo to get in as much practice as possible. We gotta keep the training train rolling, here. Go on, get moving!” he demands. Upon this new bit of news, she has Angelo hustle through the streets.

They burn the rest of their daylight practicing, taking little breaks every other hour. The sun setting betwixt the cracks of the distant buildings, their shadows blanketing Clara and Rico as they ride atop Angelo back home. This time, instead of the soup kitchen, Rico offers the lady dinner, the best he could muster anyway.

At the dinner table, Rico whips out his pocket knife and carves out the lid of the can. The trainer sets the can in front of his guest, presenting with a lackluster: “Bon appetit”. Looking within the can, viewing the dull noodle concoction of soup and chicken. “Chicken noodle soup?”. “Yep. Came from the box of cans you stole.”, Stabbing the top of his can, he lifts up the can of soup like a glass, declaring to her: “Welcome to socioeconomic disparity.”. Rico then downs the contents of his can like a can of beer. Probably wishes it was beer too. Clara looks down upon her lightweight dinner and thinks that a far less poisonous option for a beverage might spice up the night and soothe the nerves all at once. “You got any water?” she asks him. “Some. Why?”.

Filling two mugs with fresh clear water, the scientist deludes their drinks with the tea from her backpack. Both of them taking swigs of the homemade brew, they breathe out with a much needed relief. “Oh, man. I needed this shit. So damn good.”. “Yep. Haven’t felt like this in days to be honest.”. “I haven’t in fucking years. Where did you get this stuff?”. The scientist jumps from her seat, obviously not wanting to tell him about the less than ideal scenario she had to go through. “Uh...you know...some-somewhere.”. Rico shrugs, slouching upon the dining chair with with another sigh. “I’m going to sleep so good tonight.”. Now that both of them were far more relaxed, Clara grabs the trainers attention with: “Hey, um...Now that you’re not as...pissed, I’ve wanted to ask something that’s been bugging me.”. “Fire away.”. “What with the clown getup? Did you run away from the circus.”. “Pfft, I wish. Some assholes broke into my home one night and covered my face with permanent paint. Is why I keep a loaded gun stashed around.”. “My god. Just-Why? I-I mean, know you can’t quit, but why did you get into such a harsh job in the first place.”. She hears her trainer laugh mildly, swishing his tea around with a single hand. There’s a hint of an underline tragedy within the chortling, like a sort of self pitiable disposition. Oh god, this gonna be so depressing, isn’t it

He stops sloshing the mixture with his mug, staring down upon the reflection as he lets out a weary sigh. “I did this to my own stupid ass.”. “What do you mean?” she pries. “I got into training steeds thinking that it’d be an easy gig. Feeding, riding, cleaning, the usual. Thought it didn’t sound that hard…I was so fucking wrong. I wasn’t prepared for how demanding raising a mutant beast could be. The competition and government don’t help either.” Looking out towards his steeds outside, he continues with: “What’s worse is that I just didn’t dig my own grave, I dug Angelo’s too. Poor girl deserves better than me. Why the hell didn’t I just take the stupid store clerk job?”. The scientist could here her hosts irregular breathing, as if he was trying to keep from breaking down into tears. He composes himself long enough to drink the rest of his tea, getting up from the dining table to head down the hall. “Thanks for the tea. I’ll see you in the morning.” Rico finishes as he walks into the darkened hall. Clara can’t help but pity the guy. He really screwed himself over. Taking one last swig of her tea, she heads for bed, determined to get in all the practice she can tomorrow.

Back over at their practice course, the morning sun rises behind the horizon, brightening the twilight sky. On the road, Rico had riden Clara down towards the track, who was still very tired, leaning backwards in such a way that she’s barely able to stay on. “Alright, were here.” he grunt them. With a very audible yawn, she utters to the trainer clown: “5 more minutes, papa. I was having a nice dream about this pretty la...” the sleepy scientist mumbles. He hops off the ursa’s back, points towards the road ahead and orders her to: “Now get to it.”. “Okay, chokey, bok-bokey...” she murmurs as she rides off, Angelo exhaling a much louder yawn.

After a lap, the rider begins to awaken, shaking the sleeping daze out of her system. “Ugh...I miss coffee so much. I’d kill for a cup of joe.”. She starts to tilt back in her half wake lull, flopping herself upon the lower back of her beast. Upon impact, she hears this wet gushing sound that makes her jump back up. Now fully woken, she notices Angelo struggling to moved forward, the arachnid dragging her paws through the concrete. Clara looks back, surprised to see a thick white silk that came out from the bears backside towards an opposite building “Huuuh?”.

After bringing Rico over, he starts to inspect the string closely, twanging the silk like a banjo string. “Hmm...”. “So, you had no idea that she could do this either?” “Not really. No. Damn stuffs as strong as steel wiring though.”  the trainer admits, pulling upon the string to test its strength. No matter how hard he pulled on the webbing, it would not even splinter. “Geez, no wonder you come dead last all the time.”. “Shut up and help me pull on this.”.

Grasping hold of the sticky string, all of them pull away from the opposing building with all their might. A piece of the architecture that the string had caught was pulled out from the bottom, making the entire structure crumble down. The dust settling, nothing was left of the complex but countless rubble. Angelo’s webbing was not severed from the piece that was pulled out, unfortunately. “Well shit.” Rico astonishes. Rico begins to pull the leftover string out of Angelo’s backside. Amazed by the strings durability, Clara begins to conjure all kinds of scenarios for its utility, the vast options opening up to her. “Wow. I bet I could do all kinds of crazy stuff with her webs.” she declares. “Probably. Best to mix it in with your racing practice. Ya need as much as we can get, seeing the entire town will be against you.”. The trainer takes the string out, shaking of the sticky webbing from his hands. “Oh great. Thanks for the motivation. Can’t wait to arrive at the starting line with the whole city.”. “Oh they won’t just be booing you. That’s for sure.”. “Oh what now.” Clara worries. Hearing the trainer sigh, she hears Rico start to explain: “Okay, I probably should have warned you about this from the start. That’s kinda my bad. But see, every year during the race, its very common for people to bet loads of good on racers.” “Not seeing the bad so far.”. “Thing is, those gamblers will do anything to make sure their bet wins. Setting up deadly traps, hired snipers, exploding decoys, all to thin out the competition.”. “You’re kidding, right!? How the hell is “that” legal!?”. “Technically, it’s not. But beyond the checkpoints, there ain’t enough security around to stop them.”. The scientist lets out an upset groan, realizing how much of the odds are stacked against her.

Along the makeshift course, the scientist has her steed come to a halt, pondering how far Angelo’s webbing is able to shoot out. But how to make her spit out her silk, she wonders. Thinking about how the sticky string was shot out the first time, she decides to reenact the first incident. Clara pats the spiders lower abdomen and sure enough, the silk launches out from the ursa’s backside once more. She watches the white webbing go quite a long ways, reaching nearly half a mile along the stretch of road. The tethering attaches itself to a complex upon the opposite side. Clara is about to pull the string out, but wonders if there is a much faster way to detach from the webbing. She scans through one of her steeds legs, going down towards the ursas feet. Dismounting from her beast, she gives Angelo’s paws a much closer exam. Noting the very sharp claws at the end of them, she wonders if their strong enough to cut through the silk. Angelo herself turns, as if curious what her rider might be trying to do. The ursa witnesses Clara take her claws and use them to cleanly severe the bears spiders own webbing. “Ha ha!” the rider exclaims, Angelo letting out a surprised grunt upon this discovery. It seems even the mutant beast is taking those steps towards self discovery. After that learning experience, she wonders how the newfound stick silk can be utilized. A thought popping into her head makes her snap her fingers. She climbs atop her steeds and continues down the broken roads.

Upon coming to a pair of opposing buildings that looked stable enough, Clara finds it the perfect grounds for her test. She guilds Angelo’s to climb toward the side of one of them, spitting out the ursas silk upon a sturdy part of the wall. The scientist then guilds her steed towards the opposing complex without cutting off Angelo’s tether, having the bear spider attach the other end to its wall. Crawling back, she finds the string of webbing stretching along the opposite ends of the streets. Clara pulls back on the sticky silk and finds it to be quite strongly flexible, plucking it like a readying wood ward instrument. Given the flexible durability of the webbing, it could be quickly setup for use of an on the fly trap or a makeshift slingshot. Slingshot. Hmm… The scientists decides to put a new theory into action.

Using what strength her beast could muster, Clara made Angelo pull back on their setup as far as it would go, the silk stretching quite a ways before beginning to fracture. “Alright, ready?”. The bear spiders shows clears signs of worry about where this might be going. Once the signs of splintering start to show themselves, Clara gives her beast the command: “And...now!”. Angelo reluctantly loosen her footing upon the cracked concrete, the string flinging them high into the air.

Their velocity sends them a far ways through the blocks, gliding high into the air over several low bearing architectures. It isn’t long though before they find themselves hurtling towards a towering complex. Clara knew if they didn’t find someway to stop soon, both her and her steed would find themselves to soon be recent example of the dangers of aerial shenanigans. She spots a building ready to pass through and acts fast, making Angelo shoot out a string towards the wayward abode. Attaching itself to the complex, the flexible silk begins to slow their careen. Both of them come mere inches away from the building before being flung backwards. They’re thrown back towards the attached architecture, Angelo mistakenly severing her own string in their midair tumble. That slight error makes them fly out of the building reach, instead plummeting towards the streets below.

Angelo on a panic, Clara waits for them to near the row of buildings below until she has her shoot out another string. Once close enough, she pats the beasts back side, silk shooting out towards one of the torn apartment complexes. They swing through the streets on the white tether, Clara hanging on tightly so not to fall upon the pavement. Reaching the ark of their swing, another idea pops into the scientists head. She takes her steeds claws and severs the silk, making them once again plummet towards the ground. Once more, the mutant beast launches her sticky webbing upon another piece of architect, both her and her rider swing into the air. Just like before, once reaching the ark, she makes the ursa severe her own webbing. This repeats to a point where they’re swinging through the destroyed district like a famous spider themed hero of sort, only without as much cuddly fuzz or overabundance of limbs. Beyond the distract, Rico couldn’t help but watch both of them rise and fall behind building after building, a wondrously confused gaze painted across his makeup covered face. After several swings, Angelo cuts her string as they near the ground, crawling through the streets to of shoot any leftover momentum. Once they slow to a halt, the rider is left with an adrenaline fueled excitement, while the steed is left in a panicked shake. The feeling of swinging through the streets with the wind in her hair leads her to declare aloud as she adjusts her glasses: “That...was...intense! Imagine how fast we could go using your webbing. We’d destroy the competition.”. In here excitement, she only now starts to hear the whimpers of her steed, looking down as she find it covering her eyes. “Oh...I...guess that might have a bit much for you, huh”. Her steed stirred in a fright, Clara dismounts from Angelo’s saddle and jumps in front of the bear spider. She bends down upon the crouching beasts, comforting with: “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have put you through all that at once. But you heard what Rico said, we gotta practice this for the race. So why don’t we dry up our tears and get back in there.”. But all her steed could muster as a response was a scarred whimper. Hearing this, Clara lets out a sigh and instead promises with: “Okay. How about we just take baby steps, instead. Nothing extreme like the slingshot. How does that sound?”. Angelo begins to uncover her eyes upon hearing the promise, slowly rising from her whimper. Standing once more, the scientist mounts her steed again, asking her: “Now, lets start off with that building over there.”. The ursa starts climbing up towards the complex in question, ready to give practice another go.

The last day of practice beginning to fade, Clara and Angelo swings out from behind the corner on a white tether. The ursa slashes the webbing loose to glide forward through the streets. Before they hit the ground, the arachnid spews out another string of silk towards another building and swing across the broken block. “Yeaheah!” the beast rider cheers, her beast letting out an optimistic groan. It seems that with enough practice, the ursa began to feel comfortable with the idea of swinging about through the streets. Seeing Rico on the sidelines, they land upon the ground within a swing and run out any leftover momentum, coming to a slow crawl upon reaching the trainer. “So, still think I don’t stand a chance or what?”. “Psh, you’re gonna need a hell of a lot more gumption and a little luck if you’re actually aiming to win.” Seeing her disgruntled glare, the clown then adds: “Buuut...You might just pull a miracle outta your ass yet, who knows.”. “Gee, Rico. I’m so thankful for your support. You’re my sturdy rock in the midst if this hellish storm of doubt.” she responds with mountains of deadpan sarcasm. “Don’t mention it. Now lets get going. Need a lot rest for tomorrow.”.

With Rico taking the reins, they start to head out as the sun began to set. On their way back, a passing wagon full of canned goods catches Clara’s eye. She tucks on the back of the riders shirt, grabbing his attention with: “Hey, Rico. Check that out.”. The trainer glances towards the wagon, questioning: “Yeah, whatta bout it?”. “What you say we dine as Kings tonight?”. “Ha ha. You gotta plan cooking?”.

The common wagon hauler stood atop his humble bullquana, riding through the patched roads in a relaxed galloping crawl, thought the waning twilight begins to worry him. It won’t be long til the night encroaches, and with it numerous thieves, ready to plunder his precious cargo. He’s gotta get to the store to drop off this sweet loot fast. He stops by a large alley, the opposing buildings casting the space in a black blanket of cold ominous shadows. The perfect shortcut. The rider begins his descent down the alley, finding a lot more room through then he first thought. It’d make a fantastic one way street. Maybe he could suggests as such towards city board. Halfway down, the hauler begins to relax. The light from the setting sun at the end contrasting against the darkness being quite the relieving backdrop. The man takes a comforting sigh upon it all, describing it as: “Beautiful.”. That calm suddenly snaps away when he feels something tug at his backside. Turning around, he finds one piece of his cargo being pull away through the air by a white string of sort. Oh hell no! The rider quickly backs out of the alley, determined to skewer whatever scoundrels dared swipe from his wagon. Out from the alleyway, he finds his precious large box of cans being plundered by a couple of hooligans scuttling atop a weird bear thing. There gonna get an ass full of bullquana horn when he catches up to them. Eagerly, he charges straight for the thieves, disregarding any public safety in his pursuit for justice. Justice dammit! Many a riders and passerby jump out from the bullheaded cargo haulers dash in hopes of not getting flattened. Swerving through street after street, the constant barrage of mutant beasts in the way makes it hard to see his target, but he is absolutely certain that they’ve turned the corner. Following his potential victims, he is drawn into a dead end, the twilight illuminating through the chain link fence. Although he looks hard, he can’t find his prey anywhere, the only thing of note around being the empty box the cans came in. Where the bleed piss did they go!? They couldn’t have broken through the fencing, its still in one piece. Did he misjudge his pursuit and took the wrong turn? He starts to turn about, but finds the police atop their steeds blocking his path. Oh perfect! Maybe they can help with recovering his goods.

Atop one of the building, Clara, Rico, and Angelo all watch as the reckless bullhead driver is dragged away by the authorities. Their fresh plundered spoils wrapped up nicely within Angelo’s silky white strands. “Good girl. Good girl!” the trainer praise their steed, Angelo herself letting out a happy groan upon being given well deserved scratches behind the ears. Looking down upon the alley, the scientist finds the wagon they plundered out to have been left behind, its precious cargo left for the taking. She turns over towards the clown, asking: Hey Rico. We got room for a few more boxes?”. “Oh hell yeah.”.

Night finally falls upon the city of Columbus, all of them drag their spoils back to Rico’s broken abode. Dozens of cans litter the backyard as everyone lays on the back porch after engorging themselves to their feast. Each one of them groan out. “Uhh...That was good. I haven’t eaten like that in weeks.” Clara maons out. “I haven’t in literal fucking years…Hey, kid?”. “Eh he?”. “That crazy ass tea the other tea might have made me leak personal shit that I wouldn’t have said otherwise.”. “You did almost cry.”. “Yeah...Almost. Anyway, think its fair to pry some info outta your head tonight.”. “Alright. What are you asking?”. “Why...Why the hell are you in such a hurry to get outta here? Why the hell are you wanting to enter a race you know might get you killed?”. Clara stood from her slouch, answering with hesitant: “Well to be honest...I trying to find someone?”. “Who? An old fuck buddy?”. “No. No. Nothing like that. I mean I’m trying to find him so that maybe I can fix this huge mess that we made. Last I heard of him, he got snatched up by Canadians and flown over the border. I don’t know what he might be doing with them, or worse, what they might be doing to him. Its why I gotta bolt it to Canada asap.”. The scientist hears the clown man laugh, watching him get up from his laughter filled slouch. “The hell so funny?” she objects. “You’re wanting to get through the northern border? Border patrol there is insane. You think you’re the first person to try? Those Canadians will eat you alive.”. Rico lets is laughter die down when he sees his statement have saddened the poor girl. “Um..well...Aside from the couple that do manage to sneak in, not many people make it through. You probably need a miracle to pull it off. And from what I’ve seen. You’re damn good at pulling off miracles.”. The scientist lets a soft chuckles escape her lips, returning with: “Thanks. You know, you’re not as bad as I first thought. Just some guy that took a wrong turn in his life. Hope that I can stay on the right path on mine long enough to fix this mess.”. “Eh, don’t worry. You got a good head on your shoulders. Sure you’ll do better then my stupid ass did.”. After that statement, the trainer rises from his wooden porch, stretching his arms out as he announces: “Alright. Let’s all haul our asses to bed. Got a big day ahead of us.”. Both Clara and Rico head inside, Angelo drags herself towards her stable. All of them rest up, for tomorrow will truly be quite the tussle.

[green-eyeddragonfanfiction]

Ghosts of War: Chapter 15

Summary: Freedom. The very concept is foreign to you and the other Winter Soldier. However, your skills haven’t evaporated with the advent of free will. So you and he hide, slowly making your way towards New York where you feel inexplicably drawn. The two of you are stuck in Chicago until your bus arrives, but you try to make the most of it. Warnings: Swearing (always), Groovy 70′s slang Word Count: ~2,728 A/N: Things are in English. Other languages will be in “quotes and italics.” Sorry for the delay.

Masterlist // Book One

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

You simply smiled at him and moved off his lap, moving to sit on the other side of the bench. Mimicking his earlier actions, you patted your lap gently. His smile was so tender your hearth physically ached. He laid down slowly, his head eventually coming to rest on your lap. You ran your fingers gently through his long dark brown hair and he relaxed into the touch. “Goodnight,” you whispered, fondness creeping into your voice.

His only response was placing a gentle kiss to the top of your thigh before he fell asleep, his soft snores comforting you beyond words.

Dallas, TX - United States - March 15th, 1973

By the time you were boarding the bus to Chicago, Dallas was barely waking up. Only supremely unfortunate people with places to be at 5 am were out and about, and they were so tired that they didn’t spare you or the Soldier a single glance.

You’d gotten lucky and found a gas station with a well-stocked store and managed to snag yourselves a change of clothes. You threw your previous outfits in the garbage, keeping only your gloves and boots to hide your cybernetic appendages. You had no idea if what you were wearing was hideous or not by today’s standards, but it definitely was to your own eyes. Floral patterns everywhere and too-tight pants that flared outrageously at the bottom.

By the time you’d trudged bitterly out of the bathroom, the Soldier was leaning against the wall waiting for you, cigarette stuck firmly between his lips. He glanced up as you exited and you couldn’t help but glance away in embarrassment. Of course he managed to look good in this era’s clothing. He’d probably look good in anything. You walked up to him, eyes glued to the ground. If he took notice of your odd behavior, he didn’t say anything.

“Ready to go?” he asked quietly, blowing smoke away from the two of you.

You plucked the cigarette from between his lips and took a long drag, handing it back to him before you exhaled slowly and turned towards the door, grabbing his hand as you went.

He trailed after you, seemingly content to be tugged along, smirk dancing on the corner of his lips.

The trip to Chicago was grueling. You knew it would be a long journey, but over a day’s travel was a bit much. You hadn’t brought anything to do, so much of your trip was spent sleeping, staring out the window, or talking to the Soldier.

“When we get to Chicago, we’re bathing. I don’t care how we get to that point, but I can’t take this anymore,” you muttered around fifteen hours into the journey. Most people were asleep by now, but the roar of the bus down the freeway was still enough to drown out your words.

He gave his shirt an experimental whiff and cringed. “Agreed.”

You sat together in silence for a few minutes before you turned your head to look up at him. He glanced down at you, then fully turned to look at you when he realized you hadn’t looked away. “What?” he asked, raising a single eyebrow at you.

You chewed on your lip nervously. “Have you... remembered anything?” you asked hesitantly.

He blew out a long sigh and let his head fall back on the headrest of his chair. “You mean... from before...?” he held his left arm up questioningly.

You nodded quickly and he frowned. “I dunno... can’t decide if something’s real or a dream,” he muttered, glancing at you apologetically.

“Tell me, please,” you whispered, taking his hands between yours.

He couldn’t meet your gaze. “Why? It’s all a jumbled mess, Sugar... don’t see what good it’ll do, drudgin’ it all up.”

You squeezed his hands tightly in yours and tried to get him to look at you. “Well, if I remember it, too... then it’s probably real, right?” you asked, smiling when he finally glanced up at you, still hesitant. “Please?” you added, looking at him hopefully.

When a small half-smile tugged at the corner of his lips, you knew you’d won him over. “Fine, but you hafta share somethin’ too, alright?” he asked.

You nodded eagerly. “Deal.”

“And we write everything we remember down if we both agree it probably happened,” he added, making you raise an eyebrow.

“On what? Neither of us have any paper, or even a pen,” you asked staring up at him in confusion. Your expression quickly changed to disbelieving offense when he pulled a tiny notebook out of his pocket, closely followed by a pen. “You had that this whole time and didn’t share? We could have played games. Hangman, tic-tac-toe, anything!” you whisper hissed, making a grab for the notebook which he easily dodged.

He let out a short chuckle. “Yeah, but I like talking to you... and we both needed some sleep,” he said, gazing down at you tenderly

You gaped openly at him before he gave you an amused look that had you snapping your jaw shut and glaring at him half-heartedly. “Fine... you first,” you grumbled, pulling your feet up. You threw them over his closest leg to you and leaned in, resting your head against against his right shoulder.

He smiled down at you before looking away, thinking. You let him be, knowing full well what a mess his head was at the moment.

“Real or fake, I taught you how to box?” he asked finally, glancing down at you.

You smiled up at him. “Sounds right. Feels good. Going to go with real.”

He chuckled and quickly scribbled it down. “What a vote of confidence...” he muttered, smirk dancing on his lips.

“Not sure of anything right now, sweetheart,” you said with a sad smile which he returned in kind.

“Your turn,” he said, staring down at you expectantly.

“Hmm...” you racked your brain, trying to find a concrete idea or recollection that might be real. “Real or fake, we built a motorcycle together?” you asked, fingers twitching as though you could feel the tools in your hands. It seemed so real, but the memory slipped through your hands like water as soon as you tried to recall it in detail.

The tenderness in his eyes made you take a deep breath, smile on your face. “Real,” he said, staring at you for a moment more before he moved to write it down, pen scribbling across the tiny pages. The notebook was barely a few inches across and only slightly taller than it was wide. It looked especially small in his big hands.

He stuck the pen between his lips as he thought and you couldn’t help but smile at the odd behavior. He finally pulled it out and stared at you with those light blue eyes and took a deep breath. “Real or fake, I married you in a bombed-out town hall?” he asked, still as a statue as he studied you.

His words brought forth a myriad of images; him in a military uniform looking much happier and well-kept, a bunch of men you couldn’t remember the names of, a simple cake, a small bouquet, simple, engraved gold bands. You snapped out of your daze and stared down at your left hand, where you could nearly see that simple wedding band in your mind’s eye. Your finger suddenly felt naked without it. “Real,” you breathed, happy tears clouding your eyes.

He smiled at you and let out a single choked sob of happiness before his lips descended upon yours.

Chicago, IL - United States - March 16th, 1973

It took a little while for the two of you to get back on track after that, but by the time you were finished you’d agreed on quite a few other things:

You knew a man named Steve.

You fought in World War II.

You were Americans.

He was a sniper.

You were an engineer.

You and Steve worked with a group of other men in the war, though neither of you could remember their names.

You were close with a beautiful brunette woman, though her name eluded both of you. Something with a “P,” you were pretty sure.

You’d gone on a date in France.

You’d saved each other’s lives more than once.

He hates sweet pickles.

You’d met in a Hydra facility.

The memories were random and scattered, but it was progress. By the time bus rolled into Chicago at 1 pm, the tiny notebook was half full. There were plenty of things from earlier in your lives that you couldn’t verify for each other. Those weren’t written down; false memories would only confuse you more.

The first thing you and the Soldier did when you hopped off the bus was buy two tickets for New York. It was still early in the day and, even with the wind blowing through the busy streets, it was warm.

“We have a few hours, Doll. What do you wanna do?” The Soldier asked.

“Hmm...” you hummed as you glanced around. Sitting around at a bus depot for hours would be a terrible idea. Even though you’d made it most of the way across the country, you were sure Russian agents around the world would be on the lookout for the two of you at any major transportation hub. You wouldn’t be surprised if Hydra had joined in the search by now. The weasels definitely had spies in Russian intelligence. “Wanna go for a walk?” you asked, staring up at him with a smile as you wove your fingers together with his. “We can search for a motel nearby while we explore.”

He glanced around surreptitiously. “Sure that’s a good idea? It’s broad daylight out,” he said, worry obvious in his tone. He didn’t like being out in the open any more than you.

“We’re hiding in plain sight, sweetheart. We’re barely even recognizable,” he said comfortingly.

You sighed and nodded, knowing he was right. “How about that shower?” you asked, to which he nodded eagerly.

Nearly all of the money you had left was spent on a motel room and dinner- a deep dish pizza at a nearby restaurant that you and the soldier devoured with impressive speed. The moment you were both finished showering (which took extra time because you may or may not have had sex a few times) you left the motel, not wanting to stay in the tiny cramped room a moment longer than you had to. You sat at the back of the restaurant (at a table that gave you clear view of all the entrances and exits), picking up tidbits of other patron’s conversations as you ate. The era had such odd slang and you found yourself smiling ruefully once or twice when a particularly exuberant group of young people came in and sat down only a table or two away, chattering away happily.

The Soldier glanced up at you, pausing at the expression on your face. “What?” he asked curiously, eyebrow raised.

You had to fight back a grin. “The good vibes in this place are groovy.” The Soldier groaned and buried his face in his hands, which only made you smile wider. “What’s got you bent, cool cat?” you asked playfully, earning another pained groan from the Soldier.

“Please stop,” he begged, voice muffled by his hands.

“Why are you raggin’ on me, man? I’m shagadelic,” you said, shit-eating grin plastered on your face.

He let out a truly undignified snort and finally looked up at you, lopsided smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “That has to be the worst sentence I’ve ever heard.”

You shrugged and grinned at him. It was such a strange sensation, smiling. You could tell from how weird it felt that you hadn’t done it recently, and you were sure you couldn’t remember the Soldier smiling that broadly before. Up until a few days ago, the most you got was the softening of his eyes whenever he looked at you.

“C’mon, hep cat. Let’s blow this taco stand,” you said, wiping your mouth with your napkin and throwing it onto the table as you stood. He let out a low exhale of a laugh and you couldn’t help but smile at him as you extended your hand. He tossed a few bills on the table before taking your hand in his.

The two of you headed for the door, but not before practically dissolving into giggles at the comments of the people nearby. They had no idea you and the Soldier could hear them loud and clear, so their hushed, urgent whispers of “look at that hip couple, man,” “That dude is the bomb. Looks like a total Casanova,” and “That chick is foxy. Wonder where she got her outfit,” followed you out of the restaurant.

You turned to the Soldier the moment you stepped through the door, eager to use your newfound slang, but he immediately turned and glared half-heartedly at you. “Don’t. Please, for the love of god, just don’t,” he pleaded.

“Fine, fine,” you said good-naturedly with a smile, giving his left hand a gentle squeeze. The feedback receptors would let him feel the pressure, but you knew the warmth of your hand escaped him.

He let out a sigh of relief and immediately resumed scanning the area as you made your way down the busy Chicago street, content with the companionable silence between you.

But it wasn’t to last.

“Let’s peace out to our pad and hang for the night, can ya dig it?”

Your only response was an exasperated sigh.

As it turned out, you didn’t end up in a hotel, motel, vacant house, or on a comfy park bench. In fact, all plans of sleep vanished for the night the moment you spotted the lights of a club while wandering the streets of downtown.

You turned to stare intently at the Soldier, who immediately flinched, likely reading your train of thought in an instant. “No.”

“C’mon, don’t have a cow, man! Let’s go get our boogie on!” you said, interest only growing the closer you got to the club. The funky music seeped through the walls and out the front door and you had to admit it was catchy.

The Soldier rolled his eyes. “No. We need to find a place to stay for the night,” he argued, valiantly trying to tug you down the street. “We shouldn’t even be out right now.”

You frowned and dug your heels in, effectively pulling the two of you to a stop. You dropped the 70′s slang for a second so he knew you were being serious. “There’ll be so many people in there that no one will notice two more. We’ll blend right into the crowd! Besides...” you lowered your voice and leaned in closer to him. “We’re low on funds. It’ll be easy to sneak a few dollars here and there from drunk party goers.”

He frowned, considering your words. “Don’t know how I feel about stealing, Doll...” he muttered.

You rolled your eyes. “Well do you plan on getting a job right now? Because I think we might be a little out of luck in that department.”

He sighed, shoulders slumping, and you knew you’d won. “Alright, fine. But if the place starts clearin’ out, we’re outta there. We’re not getting caught because you wanted to dance.”

You positively beamed at him as you dragged him towards the door. The bouncer didn’t even ask for your ID and you and the Soldier entered the club, both of you freezing for a moment once you got inside.

The place was loud in every meaning of the word. People gyrated to the music everywhere. A huge shimmering ball hung in the center of the room, reflecting all of the numerous lights hung from the ceiling. There was also a faint smoke in the air which smelled distinctly... skunk-y? It was nearly too much for your sensitive eyes at first, but you quickly adjusted to the chaos, a wide smile adorning your face when you spotted the huge light up dance floor in one corner of the room.

The Soldier looked around, aghast. “What have I gotten myself into...”

You looked over at him, soft smile on your face. You gave his hand a gentle squeeze and he looked down at you, though his gaze darted away once or twice when he caught a sudden movement behind you. “We may not be able to recall old memories... but I sure as hell want to make some new ones with you.”

He finally relaxed a hair at your words and, in the blink of an eye, pulled you in for a passionate kiss. You ignored the wolf whistles and catcalls and kissed him back just as fiercely. He broke the kiss with a smile on his face. “Let’s go make some new memories, Dollface.”

You grinned wickedly back at him. “Right on.”

Next Chapter

If you’d like to be tagged in this series, like this post! Sorry, but responses to this post asking to be tagged will be ignored, so send me an ask or like one of the taglist posts!

[mcwriting]

Arrested Development

Okay so I just want to apologize to every Arrested Development fan that saw this and was expecting post about that or something but... nah. This is an AU about Tom Holland (but if you’re an AD fan and would like me to write something about AD, hit up my asks fam)

So, as I said above, this is a Tom Holland AU where Tom and Harrison are cops and they meet you and ~sexual tension~ ensues (#spicy). Tbh I was so excited for this y'all don't even know.

Fandom: Marvel-ish

Ship: (Cop!)Tom Holland x Reader and (Cop!)Harrison Osterfield x Reader

Setting: A diner-style burger place lol

Word Count: 1,381

Warnings: Sexual references (and major tension obviously)

Rating: High T, to be honest

*Background: I WROTE THIS WHEN I WAS 17 AND DIDN’T KNOW ANY BETTER PLEASE DON’T FLAME ME.*

Tom, Harrison, and reader are in late 20s in my mind

y/f/n: Your friend’s name

y/l/n: Your last name

---

“Boy is that one fine piece of meat,” you commented to your best friend who sat across from you at the booth. 

You had been sitting with both of your meals in front of you talking when a pair of cops sat down at a table diagonal of yours, burgers in hand. Both officers were incredibly handsome, but your eyes were focused on the one closest to you, a thin but muscular young man with gorgeous brown curls that sat messily atop his head.

The problem is, you didn't realize how loud you had been.

Your friend turned to look at the boy you were referencing when the officer finished chewing his bite and turned to you. His eyes took on a determined, sexy look when they met yours.

“What was that, ma’am?” He questioned, causing your face to heat up. You kept a straight face as you answered.

“I’m sorry, sir, but I was only talking about that juicy burger you have there. It looks like a fine piece of meat.”

The officer turned to his sandy-blonde haired partner, one eyebrow raised. He slowly set down his lunch and stood, meandering his way to your table. He stopped and set his palms on the edge, leaning forward a bit to look at you closer. 

“Y’know ma’am, it’s a crime to lie to an officer of the law. Now is there something you should tell me?” He asked, a sly grin on his lips.

Your eyes narrowed before widening in fake innocence.

“Why, Officer,” you paused, squinting to read his name tag, “Holland, I’ve done no such thing. I simply believe that nice hunk of meat over there looks quite... delicious”

Officer Holland turned to his partner once again, and they seemed to have a silent exchange with one another. Once turning back to you, he kept a serious expression on his face, but his eyes glinted with a playfulness that made your stomach flutter.

“You know, when someone breaks the law, I have to take them downtown,” he explained, leaving you at a loss for words, yet you recovered quickly.

“I don’t believe you'd be able to handle someone like me, though blondie over there might be able to take me,” you challenged, jutting your chin towards the other officer who had been watching your conversation intently.

“Oh don’t drag Harrison into this, he'd never be able to handle you like I could,” the brunette explained before the other officer, Harrison, you presumed, appeared behind Officer Holland. 

“Well you see, Tom,” Harrison, whose name plate read Osterfield, began, “I’ve actually taken quite a few women downtown, and I don't recall having any complaints. So you see, I believe out of anyone, it should be I that takes this lovely civilian.”

Your eyes widened, surprised at the events that were unfolding in front of you. You had come into the diner on a simple Friday afternoon to dine with your best friend, and now this was happening. 

The young men bickered, trying to show dominance to impress you, when words you never thought would come out of your mouth slipped out unexpectedly.

“How ‘bout you both take me together?”

At that moment the two stopped and stared at you, unsure of what to say. Thankfully, they didn't have to answer, because it was at that very moment that your best friend cut the thick tension like a seamstress rips fabric: violently and effectively. And by that, I mean, she promptly slumped forward onto the table, causing a loud thud and the silverware next to her to clink loudly against the table.

The low murmur of the restaurant came to an abrupt halt as the patrons all looked at you, wondering what the conundrum was.

You looked at the officers, your friend, and back to the pair again.

“Oh my God! What do we do?” Officer Holland, or Tom, asked.

“Excuse me? You're the police officers! Do something!” You gestured to your unconscious friend. 

The officer scanned the table, eyes settling on your soda. 

“May I borrow this?”

“Uh, I guess... What does a Coke have to do with helping y/f/n?”

“I’m going to use the cool condensation from the outside to cool my hands down and hopefully draw any heat from her forehead,” he explained, wrapping his hands around your glass before holding your friend’s head up and patting her cheek.

Soon enough, Tom's plan worked, and your friend’s eyes fluttered open slowly as she drew a hand to her forehead.

“What happene-” she stopped, staring at the scene before her.

“Oh my God it wasn't a dream was it?” she asked, looking between the three of you.

You nodded your head solemnly, a bit embarrassed that your friend witnessed what happened. Her face flushed again and she quickly reached into her bag, hands shaking as she fumbled with her wallet.

“Uh, um... hey, I, uh, gotta go. I’ve got that date with that guy I told you about, and well, uh, a girl can never be too prepared so um... I’m gonna go home and get ready,” she stuttered, pulling a ten dollar bill out.

You looked at your watch before replying.

“Y/f/n, your date isn't until 5 tonight, and, it’s only 1:50,” you mentioned, unsure of what to say.

“Well, like I said, can't be too prepared. Here’s ten bucks,” she handed you the money, “to, um, cover my meal... I guess if it isn't enough you can let me know at church Sunday... But uh, yeah. See you around,” she finally finished, sliding out from the booth. 

“Ma’am are you sure you’re alright?” Harrison asked, eyebrows furrowed.

“Haha yep don’t worry ‘bout me. Uh, you two have a great day, nice to meet you,” she looked at you one last time, “and, see you later.”

She rushed to the door, only making the situation worse when she accidentally hit the doorframe on the way out, crying “I’m okay!” before rushing out the door and hopping in her car, peeling out as soon as the key hit the ignition.

“Sooo...” you started, stunned.

Just then, a staticky and monotonous voice came from both officers’ walkie-talkies, saying 

“Holland! Osterfield! Chief needs you back in ten!”

The boys looked surprised, replying with an ‘Of course” before looking back at you.

“Oh hey wait,” you called, reaching into your own bag. 

“Uh, what time do you all get off work?” You questioned as you dug around your purse.

“Well we end patrol at 3, but we usually have to stay and file paperwork until about 4 or 4:30,” Tom answered.

You nodded and let out an “aha” when you finally found what you were looking for: a Walmart receipt and a pen that had both found their way to the bottom of your purse.

You quickly scribbled a few things onto the back and handed it to Tom before grabbing a $20 from your wallet.

“What is this..?” Tom asked incredulously, peering back at Harrison who was reading the paper over his shoulder.

You couldn't believe the confidence you exuded in your following sentences.

“Well my offer was serious, and definitely still stands. There’s my number and address. Come around 8 tonight?”

Both boys’ jaws went slack once again, and you smirked to yourself for your little victory. 

“Oh and,” you lowered your voice to a sultry tone, “bring your handcuffs.”

You stood, throwing your $20 and your friend’s $10 on the table, knowing full well it was more than enough to cover the price of you and your friend’s meals along with a tip.

“See you downtown, boys,” you commented in the same voice as before, looking up at both men who each held quite a few inches on you.

You threw your hair over your shoulder when you turned to leave, swaying your hips slightly as you headed towards the door. Your hand was on the door handle when Tom snapped out of his reverie.

“Wait, we don't even know your name!” he called, reaching a hand towards you.

A sly grin played on your lips.

“Y/n, y/n y/l/n.”

Both boys smiled before Harrison replied,

“See you tonight... y/n.”

And with that, you strutted out of the building feeling like a million bucks.

And yeah, they both took you downtown.

---

A/N: Wooooohoooo! Was that fun or what? Would you believe I’ve never written anything this sexual before? (You can probably tell lol). Sorry if you think it sucks, but I liked the concept. Once again, hope you enjoyed, and if you haven’t, read my other stories! So far they are all Tom stories, but I might start writing other stuff too. I have another in the works called “The Baker and the Brit,” so be on the lookout for that.

See y’all later!

[dragon-temeraire]

Former Employment

Summary: Professor Stilinski is definitely not expecting to see his favorite porn star among the students of his Human Sexuality class.

Notes: Inspired by this ask. I don’t do power imbalance, so nothing happens until Derek is out of Stiles’ class. Also, while there are mentions of porn, there is no actual smut in this. Sorry. (On AO3)

@nogitsunelichen and @cobrilee -- this is probably not what you had in mind, but I wrote it!

When Stiles pushes open the doors to the lecture hall, it’s completely empty. He blinks down at his watch in surprise, and realizes he made the walk across campus faster than he realized. There’s always an adjustment period at the beginning of every semester, where he figures out where his classrooms are and how long it’ll take to get there.

Well, he might as well utilize this time, then. He sits at the desk at the front of the room, and gets back to writing his proposal for a class on the influence of society on gender.

He gradually hears students come in as he works, but he keeps focused, because he knows he has at least another ten minutes before class starts.

But when he hears a student ask, “Hey, are you the professor?” he has to look up, and he begins to wish he’d done it a lot sooner.

Because sitting a few rows away, staring at the guy who’d asked with a look of confusion, is none other than—well, Stiles doesn’t know his real name, but. It’s definitely D.H. Wolfe, Stiles’ absolute favorite porn star.

Hell, he’d just watched Wolfe’s four-way farewell video just last night. (It’d been posted up on Guy On Guy for more than a month, but he’d been saving it for when he needed it the most.)

But even though his brain is still frozen in shock, his mouth manages to work. “No, he’s not. I know I look young, but I’m your professor,” he manages to say coolly, but his eyes are still caught on the edge of Wolfe’s perfect jaw.

His stubble looks even better in person, and Stiles just manages to keep himself from licking his lips.

Professional.

He has to be professional, he reminds himself, and drags his gaze back down to his watch. The lecture hall is still only half full, so he’s surprised to see that there’s only three minutes left.

But this is a freshman-level class, so it’s likely that a lot of them are lost, and will be straggling in late. It’s the downside of teaching electives with no pre-requisites, but he doesn’t really mind.

He takes a deep breath, lets it out again. Only two more minutes, and he can start talking, and stop thinking about Wolfe. Who looks every bit the prepared student, sitting attentively with his notebook and pens already out in front of him.

He looks up and catches the eye of the student he corrected, giving him a reassuring smile. He’s never tried to be one of those intimidating professors, and he’s certainly not going to start now.

He grabs up the stack of syllabi and starts handing them out as the stragglers come sneaking in. Being late is its own punishment, because it means they’re stuck sitting right up front. Stiles just smirks and keeps handing out papers.

“Okay, everybody. This is Intro to Human Sexuality. Check your schedule, make sure you’re in the right place,” he says, leaning back against his desk. “As I’m sure you’ve realized, today is syllabus day, so we’ll be discussing class policies, and my best recommendations for how you’re going to make an A this semester.”

He’s glad he’s taught this class often enough that he can do most of the intro on autopilot, because the rest of his mind is still churning over the whole porn star thing.

He answers a few questions about tests and extra credit, recommends that they start reading the first chapter of their textbook, then dismisses them and jets out of there.

He definitely needs a breather.

 *

 Stiles is at least prepared for the sight of Wolfe this time, so he does fare a little better.

Though in his effort to not stare, he ends up avoiding even looking at the area of the class Wolfe’s sitting in. He only glances over if he sees someone raise their hand, and even then, he tries not to linger.

He goes off tangent a couple times, gets a little more tongue-tied than usual, but he makes it through the lecture okay. And he’s managing not to be a creepy weirdo, so that’s always a plus.

When class is over, he sits down at the desk, jotting down where they left off, and making notes of some other topics he wants to discuss. He’s distantly aware of the silence of the empty lecture hall, so he’s a little startled when someone starts talking to him.

“Excuse me, Professor,” Wolfe says, and Stiles lets his gaze flit over the rest of the room before giving him his attention.

Sure enough, there aren’t any other students left. Well, at least the door is still open.

“Is it going to be a problem?” Wolfe asks, and the question throws Stiles for a loop, because it’s not accusatory at all. Just curious, maybe a little concerned.

“Is what going to be a problem?” he asks, eyes fixed on Wolfe’s serious face.

“I just—it seemed like you recognized me, on the first day,” he says. “I didn’t know if it would be a problem, you knowing who I am.”

“Oh. I did recognize you, yes. But here’s the thing,” Stiles says, smiling a little in spite of himself. “I don’t actually know who you are. All I know is what you used to do. In fact, I don’t even know your real name.”

“It’s Derek,” he says. “Derek Hale.”

“Well, Derek,” Stiles says. “It’s not going to be a problem for me. But is it going to bother you that I know? I can transfer you to Professor Reyes’ class, if you want.”

“No, it’s fine,” Derek says with a small smile of his own. “I like your class.”

It’s only been two days, Stiles almost says, but it’s not like he’s trying to drive Derek out of his class. He figures if he just gives it another week or two, he’ll get desensitized to Derek’s incredible good looks, and he’ll be just fine. Hopefully.

“I assume you’ve read the syllabus,” Stiles says, eyebrow raised. “You know we’re doing a section on the influence of pornography on sexual norms and behaviors, right?”

“I’m looking forward to that part the most,” Derek says with a bright grin, and Stiles abruptly thinks he might not make it through this semester after all.

 *

 Stiles doesn’t jerk off every night, not usually. And he definitely can’t when the semester is in full swing, and he’s got hundreds of essays to grade.

But his subscription to Guy On Guy is not exactly cheap, so he likes to log on every day anyway, just so he can feel like he gets his money’s worth. The site is always posting up new material, and he’ll sometimes just watch performer interviews, or flip through the photo galleries.

But feels weird to watch any of Wolfe’s videos, now that Stiles knows his real name, and now that he’s a student in his class. He just can’t do it.

This is early in the semester, though. It’s his prime jerking off time, and he’s gotta take advantage of it. His mouse hovers over one of Wolfe’s shower scenes, and he deliberates for a long moment.

But one of the best parts of Guy On Guy is their wide range of performers, and he instead clicks over to one of his other favorites, Boy-D. (“He’s got the D, and you want it.”) He opens up one of his new videos, and watches Boy-D lift another guy up and pin him against the wall, dragging his cock teasingly against his ass.

Yeah, Stiles thinks, already unbuttoning his pants. This’ll do.

 *

 “All right, everybody,” Stiles says cheerfully. “Get out a piece of paper, we’re doing a quiz.” He lets the dramatic groans die down, then says, “I’m just grading on participation, so make sure you write something down, even if you’re not sure it’s right.”

He looks around the room, catches a few nods of acknowledgement, then waits for the rustling of spirals and notepads to die down.

“Okay, I want you to define these three things: sexual attraction, romantic attraction, and aesthetic attraction. Remember, this is just participation, so make sure to put down what you think.” He watches pens and pencils scribble across the paper, expressions of concentration or confusion on a lot of the faces he sees.

“Everyone done?” he asks, when it’s been a few minutes. “Well, since I’m going to read through all of these anyway, I might as well make it worth my while. At the bottom of the paper, write down a few questions you’d like to have answered in this class. Put at least one, okay? It can just be something you were hoping to learn by taking this class.”

He’d gotten a ton of questions last semester, and though several of them hadn’t been relevant (Are you single? What’s your real first name? How old are you?), he’d answered them all anyway. It had been pretty fun, honestly.

“Okay, pass them in,” he says, when everyone starts to look around restlessly. He gathers all the papers into a big pile, sets them on the corner of his desk. “So, I asked you about those types of attraction, because a person’s experience with one or more of them helps them determine their own orientation,” he says, and tries not to think about the fact that he experiences all three every time he looks at Derek.

 *

 “Before I forget,” Stiles says the next class period. “Isaac, your TA, is running a study session in the library tomorrow night. So if you’re having some trouble with any of the concepts we’ve been covering, you should definitely go.”

Isaac is a great assistant, and Stiles likes him because he has a similar brand of sharp wit and sarcasm. He also thinks Isaac is perfect for this course, because his incredible cheekbones and beautiful blue eyes tend to make a lot of people question their sexualities.

Sometimes Stiles shows up to that first session, just so he can watch a good portion of the class try not to stare. Sometimes Isaac will feel like playing it up, and he’ll slowly, sensually unwind the scarf from around his neck as he talks, and several people will abruptly gulp down water and refuse to look up from their textbooks for a while.

It’s honestly one of Stiles’ favorite things.

 *

 “Here, this is a good informational source,” Stiles says, quickly scribbling down a website and handing it to Marie. “It should help you understand some of the terms involved in gender identity.”

Marie thanks him and hurries out the door, and Stiles looks over to see who’s next. He smiles when he sees that it’s Derek, who stays after class to ask questions pretty regularly. He’s the last one in line, so Stiles gestures to the chair by the desk.

“What’s up?” he asks, watching Derek set his bag down and take a seat.

“I just wanted to ask you more about the lecture you covered today,” Derek says. “You mentioned that both gender and sexuality could be fluid, but that the fluidity of sexuality was based partially in gender. But I’m not really sure what you meant by that,” he says, sounding apologetic.

“Well, that’s due mainly to how sexuality is defined,” Stiles says. “Because it’s not just who you’re into, but also who you are. So how you view your gender can change your sexuality, because it’s from your perspective.”

Derek still looks confused, so Stiles taps the desk for a moment, thinking.

“Let me give you an example,” he says. “Say that you’re a guy, and you’re exclusively into other guys. What would you consider yourself?”

“Gay,” Derek says promptly.

“Probably,” Stiles agrees, nodding. “But what if you began to identify as a woman, and you were still only into guys. What would you consider yourself then?”

“Uh, straight?” Derek says, clearly uncertain.

“Maybe,” Stiles says. “Depends on how they want to define themselves. And what if someone identified as non-binary or agender?”

“I’m not sur—” Derek begins.

“I don’t actually need an answer,” Stiles says, smiling. “I just want you to consider it. Consider how societal perception of your gender can change how favorably people view your sexuality.”

Derek nods, asks another question, and then another. They talk for more than twenty minutes, until Stiles remembers that he has another class to get to.

 *

 Derek gets an excellent score on his midterm, one of the best in the class.

His personal essay on his own view of sexuality is also wonderful. And Stiles knows that’s really his objective opinion, because he always covers up the name before he grades any papers.

And he’s very tempted to go back and just read Derek’s essay again, when he gets to one that was obviously written by one of the frat boys in his class. It’s so heavily laden with heterosexual affirmation that it makes Stiles want to hit his head against the desk. It’s only a one-page paper, but Frat Boy still manages to mention his love of having sex with women twenty-six times.

He really, really wants to give him an F, but reviews his rubric and realizes that his required outline was…somewhat followed. With a dejected sigh, he writes a large C at the top.

He’s hesitant to grab the next essay, because his brain hurts now. But then he remembers how fun it is to personally hand these back and witness everyone’s expressions of fear, and he starts to smile.

 *

 “We’ve reached the lecture everyone’s been waiting for,” Stiles says with a smirk, looking up at the rows of students. “But no, I’m not going to give you any kind of porn-watching homework.”

He waits for the dramatically disappointed sighs to subside, trying not to laugh. Inevitably, someone ends up asking if they need to watch some porn, you know, for science, so he figured he’d just end that line of questioning ahead of time.

“Yeah, you’re not going to get an excuse to watch pornography from me, sorry,” he says, grinning. “Now. Who can tell me an influence that porn has had on our society in general?”

There’s a long, drawn-out silence, then somebody says, “Um, body hair standards?”

“Yes, that’s a big one!” Stiles says, nodding. “Porn has definitely altered the overall view of body hair, especially on women. It makes the implication that sexual, attractive women have no hair on their bodies at all, and that being hairless is actually desirable.” He watches as everyone hurriedly writes notes. “Okay, another one?”

Someone blurts, “Body types?” as someone else yells, “Dick size!”

“Okay,” Stiles says, amused. “Yes, mainstream porn typically only features a couple of body types, and they are rarely representative of the body types of the average person. And yes,” he says with a little sigh. “Penis size in porn is also rarely representative, as it tends to feature people of above-average endowment. Which, especially combined with the body-type issue, can lead to some insecurity. Though there has been a trend lately to use performers with more typical penises, which is probably better for everyone,” he says, trying to play it cool, and not think about the fact that he knows what Derek’s cock looks like. Oh god.

He’s been doing well all semester, regularly looking over at Derek’s part of the lecture hall, but he can’t manage to do it today. He really doesn’t need to know what his reaction to any of this is.

“Next?” he says quickly.

“Like, sexual roles or dynamics, or something?” a girl in the front row says, and Stiles breathes out a sigh of relief.

“Yes,” he says. “In straight porn, women are typically portrayed as passive sexual objects for men to stick their dicks in. And in gay porn, the big muscular guy is inevitably going to be fucking the smaller, leaner guy. And it sort of sets up these false expectations for the viewers, and if seen enough times, can be normalized. Some people go into their first sexual experience expecting it to be like porn. I’m sure you can see why this might be harmful,” he says, looking around the room. If they learn nothing else in this class, he wants them to at least know that porn is incredibly unrealistic. “Okay, another one?”

There’s some shuffling of papers, and Stiles thinks maybe everyone’s too embarrassed now, but then someone way in the back says, “Professor Stilinski, do you watch porn?”

Normally he wouldn’t answer that, but it was one of the questions he got back from the quiz, and since he hasn’t gotten them all answered yet…

“I do,” he says, leaning back casually against the desk. “I like porn, but that doesn’t mean I like all porn. I do have standards. Now, I’m not going to give you any recommendations, but I will give you a little advice. With porn, you definitely get what you pay for. If you want to find something you’re really into, with performers who actually like what they’re doing, you’re going to have to pay for it. Okay? Everybody got that?” He grins, looking around the room at all the surprised faces. “Also, it should be clear to everyone that most of the people in this room have watched porn. It’s not that wild of a thing. Now, anybody feeling brave enough to give me another example of an influence?”

He laughs when a bunch of hands shoot up.

 *

 Stiles sets the stack of final exams on the desk, watching as the students quietly file into the lecture hall. Isaac comes in a few minutes later, smiling a little, and Stiles knows he’s relieved the semester is almost over. Erica’s TA has been sick for the past few weeks, so Isaac has been busy helping her out, too.

Stiles is a little more ambivalent about it. While he’s happy he’s going to get a break soon, he’s always a little sad when one of his classes is over. Especially because he had so many good students this time around.

He gives Isaac half the stack of tests, and they start handing them out, though Stiles has to stop and remind a few students to take off their baseball caps. He comes around with the scantrons next, and then takes a couple of slow laps around the room. No one looks too freaked out, so he’s hoping he won’t have any failures this semester.

Isaac’s stationed himself in the back of the lecture hall. He’s supposed to be here to help Stiles proctor, but Stiles is going to let him leave soon. He knows Isaac has his own exams to study for.

Derek is, unsurprisingly, one of the first people to finish. Stiles gives him a little smile when he hands in his test, but in the dead silence of the classroom, he doesn’t feel like he can say anything to him. Derek gives him a nod and a smile in return, and then he’s out the door.

Stiles watches him go, then sighs and takes another lap around the room, silently shooing Isaac out with a wink. The lecture hall suddenly seems a lot more boring, and Stiles heads back to the front of the room, hopping up to sit on top of the desk. He scans the room, and tries not to think about missed opportunities.

It’s a relief when the last person finally turns in their test.

He shuffles all the stacks into a neat pile and puts them in his rolling bag. He glances at his watch as he wheels out the door, and grins to himself, because he still has time to drop the scantrons off at the testing center.

But he’s shocked when he looks up and finds Derek waiting in the hallway, leaning casually against the wall. It’s certainly not a bad surprise, though.

“Hey, Derek,” he says cheerfully, and smiles when Derek falls into step with him. “The final grades should be posted by tomorrow afternoon, at the latest,” he adds reassuringly.

“I know,” Derek says quickly. “I actually just wanted to ask you, um. I know you’re not holding your usual office hours during finals week, but I was wondering if there was a time I could come talk to you? After the grades are posted?”

“Sure,” Stiles says, wondering if Derek wants to apply for the TA position. He’d be an excellent candidate. “I’m not having office hours, but I will be in my office when I’m not giving exams,” he says wryly. “My door will be closed, though, so just knock.”

“Okay,” Derek says seriously, nodding. “I’ll see you soon, then.”

Stiles sort of hopes Derek will keep walking with him all the way to the testing center, but instead he just gives a little wave and heads off through the quad.

Stiles very resolutely does not watch him go.

 *

 There’s a tentative knock on his door late in the morning, and Stiles is more than happy to look up from the research proposal he’s reviewing. As he expected, it’s Derek waiting out in the hall, looking just a little bit nervous.

“I’m guessing you’re not here to talk about your exam grade,” Stiles says, smirking, because Derek’s score was near-perfect. And he doesn’t see an application in Derek’s hand, either.

“Um, no,” Derek says, stepping inside and hovering near one of the chairs.

He seems to be at a loss after that though, so Stiles asks, “Are you in any of my classes next semester?”

“No,” Derek says.

“Not even my Sociology class?” Stiles asks curioulsy as he walks back around his desk. That class is strangely popular, but he’s pretty sure it has less to do with his teaching, and more to do with the fact that he doesn’t require any essays.

Derek shakes his head, and he looks kind of…flustered?

“Well, this might be the last time you see me, then,” Stiles jokes. It’s a big campus, his likelihood of running into Derek is pretty low.

“I hope not,” Derek blurts. “I actually came here because I wanted to ask you out,” he says in a nervous rush.

Stiles blinks at him for a moment, startled, then mutters, “If you’re not in any of my classes…” to himself.

Derek must obviously catch it though, because he flushes. “I, um. I read the university’s code of conduct for professors. I purposely didn’t register for your classes, so I could ask you on a date.” He clears his throat. “Would you like to go to lunch with me?”

Stiles grins. “That’s good, because as much as I like you, I really like my job, too.” Derek just stares at him expectantly, and it takes him a moment to figure out why. “Oh! The answer is yes, by the way.”

Derek actually beams at him. “Are you free this afternoon?”

“Um, yeah,” Stiles says, because he’s got nothing urgent going on today. “Can’t wait.”

“I have to warn you,” Derek says, still smiling, “that I’m probably not as interesting as my former employment might imply.”

Stiles is not deterred in the slightest. “Looks like I’ll get to find out,” he says, grinning.

 *

 They end up going for coffee, and Stiles is unsurprised at finding that Derek is just as interesting as he thought he’d be. It’s nice, being able to get to know him as a person, rather than a student. It’s a relief to let that professional distance go.

It goes great. Stiles learns a lot of things about Derek, including his love of pastries and very creamy coffee. But the most important thing he learns is that he really, really wants to have a second date.

It seems like Derek does, too.

He takes Stiles’ hand as they walk out to the parking lot, gives him a bright smile. “I’m sorry if this disappoints you, but I don’t have sex on the first date,” he says, but then he pushes Stiles up against his jeep and kisses him hard and fierce, and Stiles isn’t disappointed at all.