#they never found Sloane and it's just...fine

[deadlydelicious]

I also feel like all the terrible things Allison did in season 3 to get Claire back, in terms of like eroding her own morals and ethics, should have been held up as a mirror to Reginald doing the same for Abigail to actually make the theme hit.

Like that conversation on the bench between Reginald and Abigail feels like it's meant to be the central thesis of the show, and it kind of is - some things cannot be fixed, they cannot be undone, and by trying to do so all you are going to do is damage yourself and others further.

But because Abigail kind of only exists on screen for a grand total of 5 minutes (and no I do not count her scenes wearing Sy) there is no real impact because we don't see any emotional reactions from her or about her. We don't see Reginals actions being motivated by her loss because we never really get to know him as character, he's only a plot device.

It's my problem all over with this season - the plot is there, but there is no emotional resonance. In season 1 we felt Viktor's simmering rage, Allison's regret, Luthors isolation and so on. Ben's true death, Allison's expiriences fighting for civil rights, and Klaus's scenes with Dave in Season 2 hurt. Even season 3 has it's moments. But in this season what should be big emotional moments just....dissapate into nothing because none of the characters have any sort of true emotional reaction to them, so they have no impact.

Like we can look at the seperate pieces of the story and see what they wanted to do with a storyline about cycles of abuse and regret, they wanted to do a story about emotion, but it rings hollow this season because outside of the worlds most hateful love triangle, nothing is actually dealt with emotionally

[sugusatosluut]

Overworked and Overstimulated

Synopsis: You take on every job Cecil hands you as his overachieving daughter, but what could be more relaxing after work than getting high with your friends?

Warnings: Edibles, smut, threesome! MDNI💓

You returned back to the guardian’s hq, exhaustedly ripping your mask off of your head. Your father called you on four missions back to back because he had already sent the new guardians and invincible to space. You wanted to go sooooo bad, but he found it better for you to sit this one out. Coincidentally upon returning back, you had found out that they all made it back a few days ago and Cecil wanted you to handle everything until most of them recovered. Easier said than done. Usually it was about six life threatening issues a day, but to tackle four of the worst ones in one day was just a little too much.

You showered, then went up to your room. Dimming the lights, you changed and turned on your music as you took out a pot brownie. You deserved this, you worked too damn hard not to. Stupid GDA invested father using you as a machine.. but he was your dad and sometimes it was your fault for biting off more than you could chew. Typical of you to not say something yet act out when you’re overstimulated. Just typical.

As you got comfortable in your little room, Mark and Rex knocked at your door. What a surprise, they never approach you unless they need help, so maybe now’s not a good time to get high.

“Yo, y/n! Good job holding down the fort until we came back. I see the world’s got a new favorite nepo baby.” Rex chuckled as he grabbed a chair.

“C’mon Rex you know she doesn’t like that.” Mark nudged his shoulder.

“Sorry.. sometimes the social awareness just doesn’t que up fast enough in my brain. Anyways, whatcha doin? Taking the night off?” Rex asked as he played with the items on your desk.

“Yeah, my dad gave me four of the worst missions today. Just figured I’d mellow out in my room for the rest of the day.” You sighed.

“With a pot brownie?” Mark asked sitting in the edge of your bed and holding the ziploc bag containing your brownies.

“Uh-y-yeah. Well I was gonna wait til you guys left in case you didn’t need me for anything but this seemed important so I couldn’t eat one right this second.” You said nervously.

“Fuck that, this is your free time.. Mark and I have been off for a while. Let’s say we make this a group trip huh? I’ll pay you back for it later.” Rex said taking the brownies from Mark.

“I’m down, you don’t have to pay me back though Sloan. I’m content with this. Just quality time with my friends.” You said relaxing back in your bed.

You, Mark and Rex all ate a brownie, waiting for the effects to kick in.

About an hour later you were all feeling the effects. You had put some dumb chick flick on and both men were entertained. It was quiet. Mark was shirtless, with an arm wrapped around you and Rex was also shirtless laying on your chest. Before the high had kicked in you guys gave mark money to get snacks and he delivered. As you guys watched the movie, all that could be heard was the crunching of chips. Both of their bodies were keeping you extremely warm. The movie ended and all three of you were wondering what to do next.

“Basketball?” Rex offered.

“Let’s go. Me and you Rex.” Mark smirked at him.

The three of you went down into the HQ training center. Both boys were shooting hoops.

“This is boring, can we find a way to make it interesting?” Mark asked.

“Ask and you shall recieve. First one to score five shots wins a kiss from the pretty lady over there— and don’t tell me you’re not dying for a taste of that. The best things in life are things that you aren’t allowed to have.” Rex winked.

“I can reason with that as long as it’s okay with y/n.” Mark asked.

“We’ll— I don’t wanna sound desperate but I mean it’s perfectly fine with me.” You blushed. You were in fact the most desperate for this. The past flirtations between you and Mark and then you and Rex throughout your time at the GDA always got to you. Your dad always steered them both away.. well not just them, everyone—away. Mark and Rex didn’t really care, they were friends to the end. They stood up to Cecil which finally allowed you to go on missions, but Cecil drew the line at space. The old man knew better than to get between you and your friends. Yes, you loved your dad but there’s always a battle to be fought with him.

“You’re on.” Mark smirked.

Both boys played away and suddenly the score went from one to four. It was the final point for each of them.

“This one’s for you!” They both shouted together. The anticipation guided you to insanity. If Rex scored and mark felt jealous? It would ruin you. If Mark scored and Rex feel jealous? God.. it’s too much to handle. It’s okay to change your mind and everything, the boys would understand. You don’t want one without the other.

“Well looks like we’re both getting kissed. Both our baskets were made.” Mark smiled smugly.

How did you miss it? Oh well. You weren’t kissing them in the middle of the guardians hq, that would be an awkward moment you couldn’t come back from. The boys held their excitement until you all made it back to your room. Now it was really awkward for you.

“I know I’ve only gotten high with you guys once before but holy shit you look like you’re in a real predicament right now y/n.” Mark laughed.

Rex joined in on laughing, both of them were laughing a bit too hard, it was a little too contagious.

“You’re right, she’s as red as a fucking ripe ass tomato!” Rex was wheezing at this point. The laughter coming from your room was intense and anybody coming by your room could tell you were having a fun time.

You started laughing along with them and soon the laughing turned to joyous tears from your stomachs hurting so bad. After all the laughing, you rested your head on Mark’s shoulder again as you all made it back to laying on your giant bed that took up most of the room in your little box. Mark scooted you, letting you in between his legs as your back touched his chest. Mark played with your hair and Rex was up to something mischevious. Rex snuck himself under the covers, pulling down your lace panties and your pajama pants. You would have been way more alarmed in any other circumstance but for this one? You felt so at peace with both of them doing what they wanted to you. It was the best stress relief you had in a while.

Mark’s hands reached for your shirt, lifting it up off your body and kissing the back of your neck. As Rex started to eat you out your body started to tingle with numbness. The high was really intensifying all your senses. Rex’s tongue lapped and licked your little bud under the covers. To ease you, Mark grabbed onto your breasts, kneading them and kissing your neck. Rex’s grip on your hips stayed firm.

“I thought you both wanted a kiss.” You whined.

“We did, the high just feels too nice to waste on a little kiss. You getting overstimulated? I can tell by the way you’re squirming. Quit acting out.” Mark said firmly as his hands shifted positions, as one arm was now around your neck.

You whined and groaned until you started getting close, both boys were naked at this point, the temperature in the room getting hotter, the feelings more intense.. both boys were slipping in and out of you roughly as you were still whining, eventually the three of you would finish at the same time. You all hit the showers and you went back to your room in silence. Your body was now tired.

“Hey- uh.. thanks for that. If you ever wanna use me I left my number on your board.” Rex winked at you before deciding to leave.

“Leaving so soon?” You asked.

“Yeah.. unfortunately you’re not the only girl on my roster sweet cheeks.” He whistled.

“Alright, see you around.” You waved.

Well at least Rex admitted to wanting a late night booty call.

Mark walked into your room timidly.

“You leaving too?” You pouted.

“Oh stop pouting. I got you flowers. I wanna stay and cuddle. I was in space for five days I thought you’d miss me a little more.” He said.

“Now look who’s pouting.” You smirked.

Mark came into your room placing the flowers on your nightstand and laying down on top of you, his body weight giving you the utmost relief.

“I don’t want to share you again. That was a one time deal.” He complained.

“I understand, thank you for letting me experience that.” You smiled at him.

The room seemed to go quiet, you eyes started to shut and mark had one last thing on his mind.

“When are you gonna tell your dad about us?”

“Mark— go to sleep.”

[mangoshorthand]

A Hargreeves Christmas Carol | Five Hargreeves/ F Reader | Ch4

SUMMARY: Luther is the sort of idiot who goes around with a 'Merry Christmas' and a goofy smile on his lips. In your opinion, he should be roasted with his own turkey and buried with a stake of holly through his heart. Who better to teach you the error of your ways than Luther's brother, the man who holds the power of Christmases Past, Present, and Yet to Come in the palm of his hand? Info/Announcement Post

<< Read Chapter Three

Chapter Four (Rated M, 4.3k words)

The Last of the Spirits

As the living room cleared of his family, their Christmas ruined by the argument, Five succeeded in priming the briefcase. He reached out as if to take your upper arm and vanish with you into the previous evening, but you jumped out of his reach. 

“No Five. Show me the future! Show me the nuclear armageddon all this is supposed to cause. Because, based on what I just saw, this is your fault, not mine.” 

You reached out a finger and jabbed him hard in the chest, withdrawing quickly lest he use the opportunity to grab you. 

“You’re going home,” he said, firmly.

“I am not!” you yelled, stamping your foot in frustration, “take me to the future and prove to me that you haven’t been lying for an opportunity to get in my pants!”

Five tossed his head angrily, shaking his fists at his sides in equal frustration and making the briefcase hit him hard in the leg. 

“Don’t flatter yourself” he spat, “You think I’d do all this just for that?”

And then, after a slight pause:

“You think I’d try to scare you into fucking me, is that it?

“I don’t know what to believe!” you cried. 

Five took two or three angry breaths and chewed the inside of his cheek before he responded.

“I didn’t lie to get into your pants,” he said, sounding bitter, but slightly calmer “And, technically, I didn’t lie to you at all. I never actually said you caused nuclear armageddon. I just let you believe it.”

“WHAT?”

“I said that upsetting Luther could potentially cause nuclear armageddon, which is true: actions like those can, indirectly, lead to apocalyptic events. I never actually said it did in this case, however.”

You seized a bookend off a nearby shelf and threw it at him, hard. He, of course, blinked and reappeared a short distance away, leaving the bookend to smash against the wall. 

“I guess I would have deserved that.” Five said, eyeing the bookend as it faded back into being on the bookshelf. 

“YOU FUCKING PSYCHOPATH.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I know I shouldn’t -”

“YOU BASTARD!”

“I know,” he replied, a pleading note in his voice now, “but if you just-”

“YOU ARE BARRED. TAKE ME HOME, AND THEN NEVER SHOW YOUR FACE IN MY BAR AGAIN. I NEVER WANT TO SEE YOU AGAIN!”

Five held up the hand not holding the briefcase.

“Fine, okay. I get it. But will you let me explain?”

You breathed like an angry bull, your fists clenched so hard it felt like you’d never be able to relax them again, but gave a resentful nod.

“Thank you,” he said, putting the briefcase down on one of the couches and sitting on its arm, facing you. 

“I guess it was my fault. I just…I guess I tried to blame you because that was easier than facing the fact I ruined Christmas for Luther… and for everyone else.”

You let out a huff, but his face kept you from an angry expostulation for the time being, and he continued: 

“But Sloane was right. You and I are similar. We’re both kind of misanthropic: we push the people who care about us away. It might not lead to an apocalypse, but it’s hardly gonna spell good news for us in the future.”

His expression appealed to yours, and you found it hard to maintain the same level of anger as you saw the honest-to-God anxiety in his face.

“I got a second chance to live my life,” he continued, quietly, “and I’m already fucking it up. You only got one life, and I don’t want to see you fuck it up either.”

You looked back at him, at his beautiful, infuriating, and wholly sincere face. Not for the first time that night, you felt the strange urge to cry. 

What was even stranger was the urge to cry on his shoulder. 

“I think you’re right,” he said.

“About what?” you asked, frowning.

“We should go see the future. Check in on you and I in, say, ten years time? See how bad it gets?”

The idea, though you’d been fiercely advocating for it only a minute or so earlier, suddenly filled you with a thrill of uncertain horror. Perhaps it was the effect of his speech, but to have such unnatural knowledge, impossible in the normal course of things, seemed now too terrible to comprehend. 

Nevertheless, you nodded silently, your legs starting to tremble beneath you. 

“Good,” Five said, and held out his hand. 

You took it. As he ran his thumb over the back of your hand, the fear became a little more bearable. 

“I really am sorry,” he said, seriously, still holding your eyes with his.

“I'll forgive you,” you replied, and squeezed his fingers. 

He smiled softly and let your hand go, reaching behind him for the briefcase once more.

“Okay,” he said, balancing it on one knee and playing with the dials, “since it’s still my hair in the briefcase, we may as well visit me first.”

The case clicked and whirred as, with a flourish, he finished his calibration. 

“Ready to see how shit my life gets?”

He looked up at you with a grin, took your hand again, and you both vanished into the now-familiar static.

You emerged in another living room, almost as different as it was possible to be from the one you just left. It was dingy, lit by a single bulb uncovered by any sort of shade.

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me?” Five murmured, looking around disdainfully. 

You had overcome your fear for now, and you looked around the living room with interest. 

It was clean at least, but the furnishings left a lot to be desired. There was a single recliner in the center of the carpet facing a TV mounted on the wall in front of you. There was also a squashed looking chesterfield, which seemed as if it was only there for form’s sake; a vague gesture at the idea of having guests.

Other than that, there was a small table beside the recliner and a couple of IKEA-looking bookcases, each filled to the brim with books. Otherwise, the room was empty. 

“Well, I’m definitely still single.” Five said, nodding to the sparse decor slightly bitterly, “Figures.”

“Yep, it’s not great,” you confirmed, grimacing.

He glanced down at the briefcase and then around the room again.

“It’s definitely Christmas Eve,” he said, “but I guess I got nobody to put up a tree for. What would be the point?”

There was a voice from the other room and you both fell silent.

“Oh, that’s great. Tell him I say hi.” 

It was Five’s voice, and it was followed a half second later by Five himself coming into the room. 

“Really?” the Five beside you said, a mixture of disappointment and incredulity in his voice. 

The decade-older Five was wearing a pair of pajama pants, no shirt, and was sporting a chevron mustache that didn't suit him. He held a phone wedged between his ear and shoulder, and his well-abused slippers shushed against the carpet. 

He was carrying a beer in one hand and what looked like some sort of frozen dinner in the other: constituted beef packaged into steak-esque shapes was sitting on a bed of soggy green beans. On the side, there was a dump of watery potato puree masquerading as mashed. 

“This is so depressing,” Five said, cringing at the sight of himself.

“That mustache does make you look like a child molester,” you agreed.

“Thanks." 

“Mm-hm,” said the future Five, placing his sad meal on the table and settling himself in the recliner, facing away from you, “well that’s nice to hear. Did the gifts for the kids arrive...Good, good.”

He picked up the beer and took a swig, using the remote to turn on the TV and immediately mute it, flicking through the channels as he spoke on the phone. 

“Me? Oh, I’m fine. Just relaxing, you know?”

He paused in his channel surfing on a showing of Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer, set down the control and watched it as he continued the conversation.

“You know me, I hate Christmas … Yeah, I’m happy as hell here.”

Five winced beside you. 

“I’m guessing that’s a lie?” you murmured, looking at your Five sidelong.

“Yup,” Five said, grimly, “the only thing I hate worse than people is being alone.”

Five’s future self lifted his dinner onto his lap and speared a limp green bean onto his fork.

“How’s Luther?” he said, “Life and soul of the party, right? … Sure, sure … good for you.”

He took a few more bites of his meal, ‘uh-huh-ing’ and ‘mm-hm-ing’ occasionally at the voice on the other end of the line. 

 Well,” he said, an almost undetectable tinge of sadness in his voice now, “maybe next year.”

His tone made it so clear that he didn’t hold out much hope that you didn’t even bother conferring with the Five beside you.

“You guys got your New Years planned? … Nice, nice … do you know what everyone else is doing?”

He stayed quiet as he listened, eating some more and throwing out another mm-hm or uh-huh as the conversation required. 

“Huh?” he said, eventually. “I’ll probably hit the bars with a couple of friends. Maybe do the big countdown in Times Square or wherever.”

“I’m lying,” Five said to you, flatly.

“Yeah, yeah,” the Five in the chair continued, “well I’ll - what? … Oh. No, that’s fine. Have fun tomorrow. I gotta go now anyway … alright … yeah, Happy Christmas. Bye Vik.”

When the call ended, he put down his knife and fork for a few moments, sighed, and then lifted his eyes back to the TV and began eating once more. 

“This is what I get.” Five said dully, watching himself finish the last third of his meal. 

You looked from the Five facing away from you in the chair to the Five beside you, his expression haunted.

“But this is just a future that might be, right?” you said, half asking, half attempting to reassure him, “This isn’t set in stone.”

“If I don’t get my shit together, this is where I’ll be.”

“But you talk like you’re past all hope,” you said, bracingly, “You just have to make a change.”

“Yeah,” he said, though not sounding convinced. 

“And even if you get like this, it’s not like it’s too late to make it right! You’re, what, in your thirties here?” 

“Over eighty,” Five said. 

“Well, whatever,” you continued, “the one thing you got is time. If that Five pulled his finger out of his ass, he could go fix it. It’s not like anyone’s dead.”

As you spoke, the older Five finished his meal and began to channel surf again.

“I was alone for a very long time.” your Five said, “It does something to you.”

You watched him in silence as he continued. 

“When my brain was developing the finer points of empathy, I didn’t have anyone around to empathize with. There was nobody real to practice on while my brain was still plastic.”

You looked from him to the Five in the chair, considering him as you listened. 

“I feel like…maybe I’m doomed.” Five continued, “This is my mind’s comfort zone; nobody around to force me to be an actual human being. Nobody to challenge me, nobody to compromise for. Nobody to force me to be better by expecting more of me.”

Your attention was suddenly caught by the television.

“Uh, Five?”

“It’s like I’m stuck in this pattern of -”

“Five, seriously.”

This got his attention, and he looked at the TV in horror.

“Oh my god!” he cried, almost dropping the briefcase.

On the screen, there were two women gyrating against one another in barely-there Santa-themed lingerie. From the chair, a rhythmic shuffling sound confirmed the worst. 

Horrified, Five grabbed you by the back of your sweater, pulled you out of the room and into a sad looking bedroom. 

“I am so, so sorry!” he said, sitting down heavily on the bed and hiding his face in his hands, “I can’t believe you had to see that!”

You tried extremely hard to keep the laughter in, but a little burst bounds despite your best efforts. 

“I’m sorry,” you said back to him, looking up at you with a red, mortified face made even worse by your reaction, “I’m really sorry to laugh, I don’t want to embarrass you. It was just so unexpected!”

He hid his head in his hands again and groaned, just as the Five from the living room gave an audible groan of his own.

This was too much, and you fell into helpless giggles.

“I’m - s-so ….sorry!” you managed, struggling to speak against laughter that had you doubled over and leaning against the wall for support, “I’m not… I’m not j-judging you, it’s j-just… really f-f-f-funny!”

You struggled to get ahold of yourself, managing it with difficulty, and Five recovered himself just enough to look up at you, mortified. 

“I’m glad one of us is enjoying this at least.”

At this, all your hard work was undone and you bent double again, breathless with laughter.

“T-t-two of us are enjoying it!” you wheezed, gesturing in the direction of Five’s counterpart. 

Five’s face crumpled, but then a pained snort forced its way out, and then he was laughing too. 

“I can’t believe I masturbate to cable porn.” he said, agony in his voice, “That’s the worst part!”

You sat down beside him on the bed and put your arm around his shoulders, giggling breathlessly, his own reluctant laughter just adding to the hilarity. 

In this manner, the laughter gradually faded, and you finished up leaning against one another, still chuckling occasionally. 

Turning to him, you looked at his expression. Though he still looked amused, there was equal humiliation and misery in the lines of his face.

“Listen to me,” you said, softly, “you’re not doomed to loneliness and cable porn. You’re not… you’re not broken, maybe just a little bent.”

“Thanks,” he murmured, bowing his head and letting it rest gently against yours. 

He let out a little breath, as if he were laying down a heavy burden he knew he would have to pick up again all too soon. 

At this close quarters, you could smell that menthol scent again; eucalyptus, perhaps a hint of citrus.

And, rather like the night you wiped salt away from his chin, your body acted without your brain’s involvement. 

You pressed your lips to his scarlet temple, and then withdrew. 

Five looked surprised, and he lifted his head to look at you, only a few inches apart. 

“Thanks,” he said, again, though he mouthed it this time, the word barely articulated.

You looked at each other, caught in this strange, frozen moment. Both of you sat there, paralysed, completely unsure what might happen next.

And then, a particularly drawn out moan from the living room snapped you both back to reality. Apparently the other Five wasn’t far off finishing his visit to the land of cable porn. 

“We should go,” Five said, quickly, drawing away from you quickly and fumbling in his breast pocket for the vial containing your hair.

“Sounds good,” you said, brightly, hiding the awkwardness with jollity. 

There were a few exquisitely embarrassing moments as Five exchanged the hairs in which his older self was putting on rather the auditory show.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Five chanted as he worked, finally succeeding in slamming the DNA housing back into place and setting the briefcase.

With no preamble, he grabbed your arm and you both thankfully vanished into the ether. 

When you rematerialized, it was to find yourself in your bar on a busy night. 

“Thank God.” Five said, still bright pink.

He looked briefly down at the briefcase:

“Yep, same night.”

The bar looked relatively unchanged, though the fixtures and fittings had been upgraded at some point in the ten years that lay between you and this permutation of Maggie’s. There was the same half-assed tinsel around the window frame as the sole concession to the fact it was Christmas Eve.

On the corner table, a group of men donning Santa hats were singing an uproarious version of Jingle Bells, their drinks up over their heads and swaying in unison. 

There you were, behind the crowded bar as usual, shaking a cocktail with one hand and pulling a pint of lager with the other, working with the same, ruthless energy you always did, face hard and steely in concentration. 

Robbie was gone, it seemed, because you didn’t recognise the two employees helping to fend off the rest of the crowd of customers baying for booze and jacked up on Christmas cheer.

“This doesn’t seem fair,” Five said, “You’re doing great, but a few miles away I’m…wanking into a TV dinner like Ebenezer Splooge!”

“I look so much older,” you said, not listening and instead eyeing the first hint of crow’s feet emerging around your eyes.

“You look great,” Five said, impatiently, “This just proves that I’m the problem. You’re perfectly happy, and I'm a mess.”

He watched you almost wistfully, both envying your future and admiring your command, as he always found himself doing whenever he visited Maggie’s. You really were a sight to see behind that bar, and ten years had only added more skill. 

As another large table began to join in with the Jingle Bells guys, you said something that Five didn’t quite catch, and he tore his eyes away from the future you to look at the you beside him.

He was surprised to see tears streaming down your face.

“I’m not happy!” 

You fell against his chest and cried tears more violent than any you’d cried that night.

Five stood there, bewildered, as your desperate tears began to soak through his shirt. 

“Okay, okay,” he said, soothingly, “I’m gonna take you home, alright?”

He fiddled with the briefcase with difficulty, peering over your shoulder to set it where he held it behind your back. With a couple of pushes of buttons, he succeeded, and you were at last standing once more in your darkened living room, the high wind buffering the windows. 

Five looked briefly down at the briefcase for confirmation.

“Ten minutes after we left,” he murmured, satisfied, “Quantum suspension engaged, so no doppelganger for me. We’re good to go from here.”

This done, he lowered you both onto the couch, letting the briefcase bump down softly onto the floor. 

For a few moments, he simply held you against him, and then he shifted his grip to hold you by the shoulders in order to look into your face. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, “Why did seeing that make you cry?”

You shook your head and closed your eyes to weep once more, sobs overtaking you.

“Hey,” Five said, shaking you gently, “given all the shit you've seen about me tonight, you can at least tell me that!”

When this didn’t yield the desired result, he sighed and pulled you back against his shoulder.

“Okay, cry it out for now, but I’m not leaving until you tell me.”

You did cry it out, sniffling against his pure white shirt without a worry for how much you might be ruining it. Right now, he felt warm and safe. His was the only comfort you could imagine taking as waves of revelation broke upon you. 

His was the only comfort you could take, you realized.

Many of your bridges were burned, others had simply rotted away from lack of maintenance, and others yet had been severed by the loss of the other side. The end result was the same: you were very short on bridges. 

In truth, Luther, Robbie, and Five’s bridges were probably the only three you had left.

Luther had maintained his well, without your help, yet earlier today you’d launched a Molotov cocktail at it, leaving it in danger of burning down if you didn’t take action.

Robbie’s was a thin and sickly little bridge, barely a bridge at all. It could have been stronger, you knew, if only you’d allowed him to build as he wanted. 

And Five’s? Right now, it was the only one that could support your weight. It was untested before tonight, yet it was standing firm beneath your feet.

“I’m not happy,” you repeated, when your sobs had subsided enough to allow you to speak, “I haven’t been happy for a long, long time.”

Five’s arms tightened around you.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured.

“Ever since my grandma died. I’ve felt…”

You broke, took a couple of breaths, and tried a different way of explaining it. 

“I looked at myself behind that bar, and I realized I have no idea who that woman is.”

Five nodded slowly, though you could tell he didn’t really understand. 

“I don’t know who I am. I don’t know what I want. I just know that I don’t want to be her in ten years’ time.”

“Why?” he asked.

“Because she’s exactly the same as I am now!”

Five gave another of those slow nods, processing. 

“Tell me if I’m way off base,” he said, tentatively, as if he’d just drawn a tenuous red line between points in his mind, “your grandma died, and you took over Maggie’s immediately, right? When you were twenty one?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think that maybe you threw yourself into managing the place to avoid… actually grieving her?”

You made a small, wounded noise, a fresh wave of tears descended, and you nodded against his chest.

He reclined on the couch, taking you with him as he fumbled behind you to pull a blanket over you. It was warm, comforting, and it made you cry harder in relief.

“Maggie’s was never your baby,” he said, softly, “it was hers.”

You nodded.

“Do you even like running it?”

You shook your head, admitting it for the first time with a shuddering outward breath.

“Everything she did for me. I can’t just let that go. That bar was everything to her.”

Five shook his head.

“You think she gave you that bar so that you could chain yourself to it?”

“No.”

“Then sell it.”

“No!”

“Well, then find something in the middle!” 

You sniffled and took a few moments to regain some composure. 

“I don’t like managing the bar, but I like mixology. When I make cocktails, it reminds me of her and it feels good.”

“Then stick with mixology and ditch the rest,” he said, as if it were obvious.

You shook your head.

“I can’t let her down. If - if I don’t make it a success then… then I’ll be proving she was wrong to trust me with it.”

“Sounds like you got your thinking backwards to me,” Five scoffed. 

“What do you mean?”

“You said she always fought for you, right?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re acting like she raised you just to make sure there would be someone around to make Maggie’s a success. Seems more likely that she worked her ass off in the bar to make sure she could leave something behind for you.”

You couldn’t help but see the logic in this, but still, something niggled:

“The bar’s her legacy. I can’t abandon it.”

“You’re her legacy, idiot.”

His logic had done little to dispel your doubts, but this emotional truth smashed through them with the force of a wrecking ball. 

You remembered her twinkling at you at fifteen as she taught you to make your first margaria, you remembered her beaming with pride when you first made a cosmo by heart, and you remembered her on her deathbed, pressing her rhinestone necklace into your hand and telling you how proud she was, how successful you’d be. 

You remembered her taking her in your arms and making you feel safe while your parents screamed. 

It wasn’t the bar, it was you. It was always you. 

And you were crying once more: hot, cleansing, healing tears.

“I miss her,” you hiccuped against Five’s chest. 

“I know,” he said, stroking your hair.

For the next several minutes, you cried yourself dry. And then you felt better. 

“I’m sorry,” you said, slightly hoarsely, “I cried all over your shirt.”

“I don’t mind,” Five said.

In truth, he could have stayed there all night with you in his arms, wet shirt or not. You stopping crying was bittersweet: your grief was over, but it meant that soon he’d have to stir himself, say his goodbyes and probably never touch you like this ever again. 

“Can I get you a nightcap?” you asked. 

“Sure.”

You extracted yourself from him and looked on the kitchen shelf that stored your private booze. 

“Tequila shot?” you asked him, with a mischievous grin. 

“Perfect,” he smiled back.

God, the pain your little grin caused him. Like a knife to his stomach. 

You returned to the couch with two shots of tequila and held one out to him. He took it with thanks, and you sat down again. 

Five raised his glass.

“To Maggie,” he said.

“To you,” you countered, “the man who said he didn’t have enough empathy.”

Five chuckled, and you clinked your glasses together before throwing them back, revelling in the heat as it went down. 

“I’d better take my leave,” Five said, when he’d recovered from the shot.

You nodded, and you both stood.

“For what it’s worth,” he said, “I’d like you to come for Christmas tomorrow. But no pressure. I’m going to do things differently on my end this time, and none of that’s on you.”

“Thank you,” you said.

He bent, picked up the briefcase, and you followed him to your apartment door. There, he turned to look at you and held out his hand once more.

“Happy Holidays,” you said, solemnly, taking his outstretched hand.

Five raised your linked hands to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss to the back of yours.

“Happy Holidays,” he replied, and left.

Read Chapter Five >> (Final chapter!) I FEED OFF COMMENTS AND REBLOGS YUM YUM YUM

The Last of the Spirits — The Pointing Finger by John Leech, 1843 in Dickens' A Christmas Carol, first edition (1843).

Dickens' A Christmas Carol full text available here.

Read it! It's a much better than this, and you can see how many lines I stole verbatim or clumsily referenced.

Dividers used in this series by @bernardsbendystraws (garland) and @strangergraphics (lights) My husband (Mr Mango) also wishes it to be known that he came up with Ebenezer Splooge. It was him, it was him, it was all him! Here he is, at the bottom, where he belongs.

Taglist: @nevbrooke-555, @fiannee, @abeeabee6969, @chalametabingbong, @lolawassad, @icantpickanamefromonefandom @thebearmage @kaybreezy3000, @starlitflora (comment to be added or removed)

Megalist

Request info + rules

I take Five requests, I'm fairly versatile in what I write (fluff, smut, angst, psychological character study- I'll try it all) but I will consider them on a case by case basis. See request info + rules for request status and more.

[outofthebluess]

𝜗𝜚 losing brain cells .ᐟ

currently playing ❛ her majesty ❜ in which: ❛ silence isn't something you're known for. with that massive brain full of all that knowledge, you always had something to say. that is, until a case hits a little too close to home and michael's genius with a sunny disposition starts to go quiet. working yourself to the bone, michael decides to speak his mind. ❜

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pairing: ❛ michael townsend x fem!reader ❜ warnings: ❛ reader is heavily inspired by spencer reid kill me, cursing, discussion of death ❜

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michael was usually able to clock every emotion that passed your face within seconds. each one of your mannerisms never went unnoticed by the boy. he knew you like the back of his hand and you didn't even try hiding from him.

that is until you were assigned this case.

murders strung across your home state like it was clothing on a laundry line, and it made you sick. every single one had the same signature, burns found on all the victims and their throats slashed.

that only made you remember, remember what it was like when your dad had got the call that your older brother's apartment had burned down.

how? you had no idea. all you knew is that by the time you got to the hospital he was already dead, leaving you as a constant reminder that your brother was gone.

manipulation was something you were good at, usually you used it to deceive unsubs into giving you the information you need without them even realizing. every move, every twitch, every sound, all of it stayed fresh in your head and every time you go back to that moment it's like you're living it again.

eidetic memory was both a blessing and a curse in that way.

recently instead of using that raw talent of deception you used on your suspects, you began using it on the one boy who truly understood you.

but it wasn't like lia, you weren't lying. you were hiding.

and you never hid from michael. that's what scared him.

it'd been a few days since the naturals were called in for the case, those few days being some of the most grueling days michael townsend had ever experienced.

his sun-ray-like-genius had gone quiet and the worst part of it all. your face was neutral since the day the plane landed.

. . .

a mug of coffee in his hand and the purest of intentions in his heart, michael decides enough was enough for the night.

you'd been sitting with those files open around you for hours, each one bigger than the last. books scattered across the table along with heaps of information you had sloane print out for you.

your eyes scanned each word at the speed of light, making it impossible for michael to tell what your focus was on.

his voice tore through the quiet. "hi." his pitch was higher than normal, the small change noted in your head. "how's my wild card doing?"

wild card. just another way to say that she was a jack of all trades and a master of none. a term lia had coined for the girl. "i'm doing fine." your tone is sharper than you intended, but you don't let him see that small bit of regret you feel. "did you ever get the maps from - "

"as much as i admire your hard work y/n/n, i think we need to start settling in for the night."

panic.

the first outward emotion you've let him see in days. "but it's right there!" you snap, michael looking take aback. "i can figure it out and we can go home. it's on the tip of my fucking tongue michael and i know i can get it! i'm not leaving until i get it!"

michael's face flushes with concern, "hey, hey it's okay. i get it, just... calm yourself." he sits down at the chair next to you, swiping the papers you had sitting there originally to the ground. "just breathe. in and out."

his hand finds the small of back, usually if you weren't hunched over there would be a little dip. but you've seemed to just fold into yourself now that you were home.

"the quicker i solve this, the quicker we leave and the less i'm reminded."

michael opens his mouth to say something, but then it finally hits him. in one fell swoop, michael's got his arms around you and your face softly pressed into the fabric of his shirt.

"it's taken me days michael. days. i'm losing brain cells here." you mutter, the emotion you'd been holding in dripping from every word.

he presses a kiss just under your hairline and watches as those furrowed eyebrows you'd been sporting magically loosen.

"my dad even called." you add. the naturals never did have good luck with dads. "he wanted to see me tomorrow. i can't. you know i can't. leaving was the best thing i've ever done."

your dad didn't hate you. and maybe you didn't hate your dad. but you always told yourself that no one in your family was fond of the fact that you looked just like your brother.

he was smart like you are. he taught you everything you knew.

what you felt was guilt more than anything.

he pulls back from his grasp on you, his hands finding either side of your neck. "we'll finish it tomorrow. you just tell me what to do and i'll do it, but we'll have it by tomorrow. just take a break." your hands meet his wrists and just like he knew you would, your thumb presses softly into his pulse point. "see? i'm right here and so are all your brain cells."

a small laugh slips from your lips, leaving michael feeling like he accomplished something. standing up, pressing a kiss to your forehead, and letting his hands slip from your neck, michael passes you the coffee he brought before slowing trekking to the glass door you'd been confined by for hours on end.

reluctantly you shut your file and follow suit, flipping off the light switch as you exit.

with each day that passed michael just learned more and more about you, now knowing that shutting people out was something you did in this godforsaken town you grew up in.

with each day to day change it only brought you two closer. and it only made the small breaks that much more enjoyable.

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. . .

A LETTER FROM LAY !

michael townsend i love thee! adding both bot and the naturals to the list of characters i'll write for so stay so tuned

[theseinfernalangels]

Camellia — Sloane Mairi

Synopsis: Sloane keeps finding sweet little tokens of admiration wherever she goes. Who could be the one leaving them for her?

Includes: Happy Pride! Fluff (because I’ve written so much angst lately), slow burn, all around sweetness because Sloane and Rosarie deserve the world. For more context on Rosarie, read this fic! Takes place during Iron Flame.

The time on the clock says 7:15. Sloane is usually here, sliding close to you at the breakfast table right on the dot…but she isn’t today. She’s late.

Sloane Mairi is never late.

You bite your lip and focus on peeling your apple, sliding your thumb up the smooth end of your blade soothingly. Realistically, you know she’s probably fine. She’s learning to hold her own, and it’s not like she doesn’t have at least ten people watching out for her.

But she’s not just some girl; she’s Sloane. How many people have sneered at her in the hallway simply for her last name? How many times have people tried to break your friend on the mat because of her relic? Too many for your taste — and you’re one to talk. You’ve had just as many near-death experiences, if not more.

For a moment, you almost have the mind to march out of the dining hall and find her yourself. But, just as you start to push yourself to your feet, a streak of blonde catches the edge of your vision.

Good. You fall back into your seat with a newfound sense of relief.

When she plops down next to you, her skylit eyes are narrowed and full of confusion. You scoot over to accommodate for her lithe form, and she slides closer with a muttered sound of frustration.

“That’s quite the look for a Thursday morning,” you decide dryly, cutting another piece of apple from its core and popping it into your mouth. “What’s grinding your gears today?”

Sloane purses her lips. “Found something weird in my room earlier. It’s like—“ She traces an outline in the air with her pointer finger — “this little folded paper dragon. It’s actually pretty impressive-looking, but I didn’t make it.”

You raise an eyebrow. “So…What? You think someone broke into your room?”

The sigh she lets out sounds like one of exasperation, but you can tell right away that there’s an undercurrent of anxiety that sticks out to you, clear as day. Of course there is; if someone randomly showed up in your warded bedroom (that is, someone alive), you’d be panicking tenfold. Sloane may be good at holding herself together, but it’s a challenge to hide it from someone like you.

“Hey,” you say, leaning a bit closer. “I’m sure it’s fine. You want me to check your wards? Maybe there’s a crooked rune or something.”

Without warning, her arm flies out and shoves you playfully but hard in the arm, forcing you to grab the table for balance. “Crooked rune?” She echoes indignantly. “Fuck you. My runes are fantastic.”

 “I’m sure they are,” you counter with a knowing smile, “but not fantastic enough if someone can— Shit! Don’t you dare swing at me in here, Mairi.” You barely have time to duck before her other hand comes around to bat you in the face. You quickly curl your fingers around her wrists and pin them to the tabletop with a frown.

“Like I was trying to say,” you grumble, “I’ll take a look at your wards to see if there’s anything up with them. Deal?”

Sloane pouts until you let her hands up and then rolls her eyes, leaning her chin atop her palm. “Deal.”

You snort, popping another piece of apple into your mouth and swallowing. Sloane just stares down at the table, your vow doing nothing to quell the obvious anxiety that she radiates. Concern begins to flicker in your gut. “Are you gonna eat anything?”

“No.” She just shakes her head. “Now I’m all jittery, and I might get cramps if I eat now.”

Stubborn ass, you think to yourself. You tilt your apple to the unbitten side and cut off three small apple slices in succession and push them towards her.

“Three,” you order. “You gotta eat something, Sloane, or you’ll pass out during flight maneuvers. Thoirt would throttle both of us.”

Her eyes dart down to the apple slices and back to you. You hold her gaze for a few heartbeats in a battle of who can be more stubborn between the two of you. 

Or, more accurately, a staring contest. Her lip curls, and you just tilt your chin up expectantly. You stare into each other’s eyes for what feels like minutes at a time before you see a rogue tear slip from her eyes from the strain.

“Don’t make me wrestle it into your mouth,” you sigh, reaching out to wipe the tear from her cheek.

Her eyes widen a little before she blinks in surprise and then groans, plucking one off the table reluctantly. 

“I hate you sometimes,” she mutters in between chewing swiping at her still-watering eyes.

You just shrug, quietly triumphant. “That’s fine. As long as you’re not dead because you decided to pass out mid-flight.”

That earns you another shove, but it doesn’t stop the grin that cracks into your features.

.˳·˖✶𓆩𓁺𓆪✶˖·˳.

You sprawl lazily on the rug in your room, leafing through your physics packet with an air of disgust. Whoever the fuck asked Professor Lukens for extra study practice in the form of mandatory busy work was going to meet their maker tomorrow morning.

Taibh snorts. “You’d really kill someone over physics homework?”

“In a heartbeat,” you reply automatically. “Be glad you’re a battle dragon and not a rider. The things I have to do to advance in the military are outrageous.”

“Indeed,” the dragon agrees. “But as I’ve come to learn, it is essential, whether you find it outrageous or not.”

Great. Now your dragon is against you, too.

“I am not,” Taibh sniffs. “I’m merely pointing out that these classes are there for a reason.”

“Sure,” you deadpan, fixing your mirror with a pointed stare. “For torturous reasons.”

“You are impossible.”

“Impossibly correct.”

“Impossibly pertinacious.”

“Impossibly veracious.”

“Impossibly remiss.”

You glare at the mirror. “I find that offensive.”

At that, the color of your irises flicker into that dazzling bronze, the color of rising flames against a summer sky. The color of Taibh’s end of the bond.

“Am I not correct, Little Thorn? You and the young Mairi both are two sides of the same coin. Stubborn, sometimes difficult, noisy—“

Almost as if you’d summoned her (which you hadn’t), a familiar, aggressive pounding sounds from outside your room — loud, impatient, and abrasive.

“See?” Taibh queries. “I am not wrong.”

“She wasn’t even relevant to the conversation,” you sigh, standing and groaning at the ache in your knees from sitting for so long. The moment you tug on the door handle, Sloane thrusts her hand forward with a sense of force that you’ve barely seen before.

“Pull me in,” she demands. “I found another one.”

Another one? You blink at her for a moment before she gestures with her hands — the sort of motion that can only mean, “Well, duh!” 

“Oh,” you manage. “Yeah.” You clasp her hand and pull her forward, your physics packet laying abandoned. “I honestly forgot about that.” 

She scoffs, brushing past you to sprawl over your bed. “Obviously. You also forgot to come check my wards.” A sharp grin stretches across her face. “Which means that my runes are still fantastic.”

You shoot her a dry look before settling next to her, resting your head next to her own. “Was it another dragon?”

Sloane drums her fingers against the baseboard, her nails making a resounding clicking noise by your head. “Yeah. Found it under my usual chair in the commons. It looks like Thoirt.”

Your eyebrows lift a little. “How do you make a daggertail out of paper? That sounds complicated as hell.”

Sloane nods. “Must be. I don’t know who’s doing it, but they’re talented with their hands.”

A beat.

“Fuck. Don’t even think about it.”

You press your lips together and exhale shakily. Your eyes meet hers and then dart away quickly as you count to ten in the back of your mind — anything not to smile.

I’m an adult. I am mature. I should act like it.

Well, an adult by your own standards. To a dragon, you’re practically a fetus, which is why you have to bury your face in your comforter when Taibh unhelpfully cuts in:

“I believe your line, Little Thorn, is, ‘That’s what she said.’”

Sloane flinches as you start wheezing into your bed before you hear her start to giggle. “What the fuck?”

“Oh my gods,” comes your muffled reply, your shoulders shaking with barely-hidden laughter. “Taibh just made a fucking that’s what she said joke.”

Sloane goes quiet for a moment.

Then, the sharpest snort leaves her, like it’s being pulled from her throat rather than being given freely. Her head tilts to the side, and you hear your best friend start to full out cackle, bright and loud and continuous in your ear. 

For a moment, you feel light. Sloane’s face, pinched and red with shameless laughter, instantly takes you back to that night long ago when you’d been forced to stay the night at her house while your parents were on the battlefield. You, obviously, had to spend the night in Sloane’s room, and while she threw a fit at first, you’d ended the night just like this — curled into yourselves and gasping for breath from too much laughter for your little lungs, only ceasing when Isaac Mairi popped his head in and scolded the two of you for not being asleep.

You’d had the best sleep in the world that night.

Back when everything was okay. When it was easy.

The thought has you settling into your bed with a quiet sigh, that smile still refusing to leave your face.

“Fucking dragons,” you mumble. “Now I can’t remember what we were talking about.”

“Dragons,” Sloane replies. “My slightly creepy but cute dragon-making stalker.”

You roll over to face her, blinking when your noses practically touch. When did she get so close? When did you get so close?

“Stalker?” you raise an eyebrow. “They’re stalking you?”

“Well, no,” Sloane replies. “But they got into my room, and they know where I usually sit in the commons. I don’t think it’s anyone in my squad, so…stalker.”

Your lips flatten into a straight line. “I’m not even going to begin to point out how flawed that logic is.”

A surprised squeak leaves you at the feeling of a finger jabbing into your ribs. Sloane just grins at you, big and shiny.

“Of course you won’t,” she says with a wink. “Because it’s not.”

Your only answer is to grab at her leg and begin wrestling her into your mattress, ignoring her shrieks of laughter and protests. This is the closest thing you’ll ever get to that night when you were children, but you’d trade everything you had to go back — especially your long-forgotten physics homework.

.˳·˖✶𓆩𓁺𓆪✶˖·˳.

“Still, Sloane, I don’t think that means you need to— Fuck!”

You cut yourself off as the blonde halts suddenly in the middle of the threshold to Battle Brief, stopping you in your tracks and knocking you straight into her back. A sudden pain erupting in your collarbone has you hissing and sidestepping, while she jerks away and squeaks. “Sorry!”

You put some distance in between you both as you carefully reach up and brush your fingers along your jacket, as if you could feel that new scar without even touching your skin. You’d probably always be aware of it; after all, scars such as those taken for a promise were not to be taken lightly.

“Gods, I’m sorry.” Sloane appears back in front of you and does a once over. “Are you okay?”

Deeming yourself put together, you shrug. “I’m fine. You? Why’d you just stop like that?” 

Without answering, she grabs your hand and all but drags you to where she and her squad usually sit, all the way up front. Some of her squadmates are already there — and one in particular just stares at the two of you as you approach.

Aaric is his name. Apparently. You’re not sure where the name comes from, but if that’s the name that Camlaen Tauri wants to go with, you won’t question it.

(You can’t say the same about the last name, though. Who the fuck told him Graycastle was a good idea?)

“What?” Sloane demands, huffing a little. “Urgent, you said?”

The tall boy leans back a little, his face passive besides that little smile that tugs on his lips — like he knows something that everyone else doesn’t. He gestures with his head. “Stalker strikes again.”

Both pairs of eyes flit over to Sloane’s usual seat, and sure enough, there’s another little gift there — but this time, it’s not a dragon, or paper of any kind. 

Sloane chokes on a sharp intake of breath, her hand coming up to cup over her face.

You just tilt your head. “It’s…a flower.”

Sure enough, the pretty blossom lays daintily against the wooden table, its soft pink petals much more vibrant against the dull surface. It’s just one flower, but the way it’s positioned looks too intentional to just brush off.

Instead of her usual snark, Sloane just stands there wordlessly, her gaze never leaving the flower on the table. Your eyes catch Aaric’s, and his shoulders move in the most little shrug known to man.

Well, at least he’s subtle.

“Sloane?” you prompt her gently. “What’s wrong?”

As if being lured towards a siren’s song, her hand hesitantly reaches out to ghost ever-so-carefully along the fragile edges of the petals.

“…Nothing,” she whispers. “Nothing at all.”

She looks back at you and then at Aaric. “This is a camellia.”

When she’s met with silence, she shakes herself out of her stupor, quick to explain. 

“There’s a language to flowers,” she says, gesturing with her hands as she speaks. “My mom used to talk about it a lot. Like, if you give someone a certain flower, you’re trying to tell them something.”

“Yeah?” Aaric says, lifting a sandy blond brow. “What does your stalker crush want you to know?”

Sloane doesn’t answer. Instead, she keeps tracing along the stem, still green and strong even after being disconnected from its roots. You don’t try and get her to speak; she’s obviously working something out in her head, and when she’s clearly getting emotional, you know she needs that space.

“Camellias,” she says finally, “are a part of the love faction. Pink ones, though—“ 

She goes back to staring at it.

“…Longing.”

You feel that set of green eyes upon you, and it takes everything in you not to roll your eyes at the prince.

“Well,” you hum, turning your head towards your friend. “Stalker crush must be really into you if they know flower-talk, or whatever you call it.”

Sloane’s thumb gently pressed against one of the leaves on the stem. “Yeah,” she replies slowly. “I guess so.”

Seeing Professor Devera stand from her desk, you nudge her gently in the arm with your elbow. “Well, you two can figure that out.” You waggle your finger at the flower. “And I’ll catch up with you later. I can finally check your wards.”

That makes Sloane’s eyes break from the flower. “You said you’d do that, like, a month ago.”

You don’t even falter, starting towards the First Wing section of the room. “Now I actually have a reason to do it.”

Sloane frowns and then looks back to Aaric quizzically. The prince just shrugs again — actually noticeable, this time — and goes back to studying the camellia silently.

He knows something, Sloane decides. But, as always, he won’t say shit.

Thank the gods.

.˳·˖✶𓆩𓁺𓆪✶˖·˳.

You swing your door shut and chuck your backpack across the room roughly, not even caring to remember if there’s anything fragile inside. You’re exhausted, and your bed looks too enticing to think about anything else besides ripping off your uniform jacket and launching yourself across the room.

You flop down unceremoniously with a low groan, the sound muffled by the soft sheets bunched around your head. You hadn’t even bothered to make your bed this morning, too preoccupied to even consider the task.

It’s quiet for a moment; utterly still, utterly peaceful.

And then—

“I wonder if I looked just as bad as this last year.”

You scoff quietly, not even raising your head. “Probably, if not more pathetic.”

A cold breeze washes over you, sinking into your skin and chilling you to the bone. Out of habit, you roll onto your back and glare up at the offender.

“I’m not wrong,” you huff.

Liam’s flickering form stares at you with a look so dry that, if he weren’t dead, you’d slap him for it. 

“I wasn’t pathetic,” he corrects. “I was just horrendously down bad.”

“I see no difference,” you say pointedly, scrunching your nose as you stretch out your sore limbs.

Liam goes silent for a moment, and you know without even looking that he’s staring directly at your clothed clavicle. He lets out a small breath before he looks back to you. “You can’t just wait it out, you know.”

Your face turns sour. “Of course I can. It’s called patience. Just because you told her right after you met doesn’t mean that I have to do the same.”

“But I did,” he counters. “And it’s a damn good thing I did, too, because look where I ended up.” The edges of his form brighten a little, perhaps sensing his growing tension.

“Are you trying to say that one of us will definitely die before the year ends?” you ask, pinning him with a look that screams pure judgement. “Because that’s ominous as fuck.”

The older boy sighs and punched the bridge of his nose, looking more like an exasperated father-in-law than your best friend’s brother. “No,” he says slowly. “I have more faith in the both of you than I ever did myself. But that’s the problem; you won’t survive on people’s faith alone. I’m solid proof of that.”

He pauses. “Well…Not solid. You get my point.”

Your eyes trail up your wall until they meet the ceiling. “I do.” 

The silence hangs in the air, suspended solely by the anxiety that churns in your stomach.

“But I’m not you,” you add softly. “I can’t — I’m not that kind of person, Liam. I never have been.”

Liam drums his fingers on the air above your pillow — a move so familiar that it practically makes you ache. “And that’s okay. I’m not saying that it has to be anything big. You just have to actually let her know, because you both deserve the good that comes after, if not for just a moment.”

“But what if it goes wrong?” you whisper, fidgeting with your nails. “I can’t risk losing her.”

“You won’t,” he says firmly, and for a moment, it feels solid. Corporeal. Even if he’s just a spirit, his words have weight. “And in the nonexistent, extremely, infinitesimally small chance that it did, you still won’t be alone. You have people now. You have me. You’re stuck with me, whether you like it or not.”

You stew in his words silently, chewing on your bottom lip like that would help you make up your mind. 

“You know your own feelings,” Liam says gently. “And you know hers. I don’t think my sister would appreciate you dragging everything out in secret just because of self-doubt.”

True, you think. She’d probably kill me out of spite.

As if he could hear it, Liam nods. “So, what’s it going to be?” He asks. “You keep up this little secret game until you graduate, or you actually take the leap and say something?”

Your nails sink into your palms as you tilt your head back to stare at your window, the glass jar reflecting the sun and sending little rivulets of light on you. They go straight through Liam, but he doesn’t even notice. He just stares at you expectantly, like he knows what you’re going to say.

“…I need time,” you murmur, tracing your gaze upon those perfect little pink petals that rest lazily against the edge of the jar. “Not because I’m a coward, but because it’s her. She deserves perfection. Certainty. The best I can offer is my own determination.”

“You’re not a coward,” Liam assures. “But I agree. As long as you don’t wait until the last moment to let everything shine through. That’s the worst mistake you could ever make.” 

From his tone, you know for a fact that he’s speaking from experience. “I wouldn’t. Seems pretty illogical to me.”

Liam’s smile turns wistful. “Yeah? Welcome to love, kid. It makes you a fucking idiot.”

Taglist: @wonderstruckbyyou, @jessicalee22likestowrite, @freezerbride18, @ineednewdaggers, @suspicious-stain-in-spain, @kienhawon, @goldenmagnolias, @bi-incog-btch

Want to be a part of my taglist? Leave a reply to be added!

[nightmareb1tch]

Five: "That sounds stupid" Marcus: "Well, I guess the truth hurts!" Five: "So does a swift kick in the ass!"" Marcus: "Okay, fine, i'm going! But a swift kick in the ass is not the solution to everything, Five!" Viktor, randomly appearing: "Kind of have to disagree there, Marcus!"

...

Five, talking to Jayme about Alphonso: "Your best friend's stupid idea got us stuck in the middle of nowhere, my foot is SHAKING it wants to kick his ass so bad!"

...

Five, to S3!Allison: "My foot is about to drill a hole in your ass!"

...

Five, when anyone tells him to be more positive: "I'm mister Rogers, but wait. I'm not wearing a sweater! And I'm about to kick your ass!"

...

Five, when he found out that Jayme and Alphonso stole from ANOTHER convenience store: "If you two EVER do something like that again, I will kick your ass so hard your NOSE will bleed!"

...

*Klaus is off the wagon again and the number Fives have to deal with it*

Sloane: "because we can get you clean, there's therapy, hospitalization-"

Five: "My foot kicking your ass"

...

Viktor, learning that he caused yet another apocalypse: "Oh my god, this time Five's actually gonna kill me. My only hope is that he actually sticks his foot so far up my ass, he can't pull it out and I get to take him straight to hell with me"

...

Five the first time he yelled at the Sparrows (he doesn't know what he's doing): "If you don't-.... Furious! Foots in asses!"

...

*He gets confused for a kid by a police officer*

When the guy realizes he's dead wrong:

Five: "How 'bout you bust some pot smoking teenagers, before I give you an adult sized kick in the ass!"

...

The Sparrows: "Marcus has disappeared!"

Luther, turning to Five: "Oh, You know what would be good to bring him back? Threaten him with the old- kick in the ass!"

...

Klaus, trying to calm down Five: "If you could be anyone's SHOE, who's SHOE would you be?"

Fei: "I wouldn't want to be Five's shoe because I think it's about to go up someone's ass"

...

Sloane when she's had enough: "Alright, that's it, I'm kicking our Ben's ass"

Fei: "Sloane-"

...

Klaus: "If that's a job... how much does it pay?"

Five: "It pays my foot not going in your ass!"

...

Five, when Diego pulls Lila: "All those years of kicking your ass has finally payed off!"

...

Sloane: "Five, you're just going to LET my siblings get away with that? Where's the "foot in the ass"?!.... Unless you're getting too old-"

Five: "Shut it!"

...

Five, to S!Ben: "If I have to explain again, I will-"

S!Ben: "Kick my ass, put your foot up my ass, make my ass a hat, I know, I know..."

Five: "Huh? And I didn't think you were listening. Carry on"

...

U!Ben when he makes Five REALLY mad: "Are we all forgetting about a time tested punishment? There's your foot, here's my ass, swing away!"

...

Btw, if Sloane has never gotten a "foot in the ass" comment, who in the Hargreeves family (Sparrows+Umbrellas+Lila+Spouses and kids) have gotten that kind of comment the MOST?

[townsendbaby]

Proving It

Michael Townsend x Reader (y/n)

Summary: Y/N doesn’t trust men, and Michael is determined to prove he’s worth trusting.

TW: mentions of sëxual âssault

Words Count: 636

Y/N had been a part of the Naturals program for a while now, but if anyone were to ask Michael to describe her, he’d say one thing—she was distant. Not in the way Dean was, with his brooding silences and walls built of steel, but in a way that was quieter. More subtle.

She was always there, always around when the group was together, but never truly present. She laughed at Lia’s jokes, worked on cases with Sloane, but the moment she was alone with a guy, she was gone.

Michael had noticed it before, but tonight, it bothered him.

Because it was just the two of them in the kitchen. Five minutes.

And she had bolted.

“Gonna eat in my room,” she had said, too quickly, grabbing her plate and retreating like she was escaping something.

At first, he had thought it was him. Maybe she had a crush, maybe she was nervous. But then he paid attention.

She wasn’t just avoiding him. She avoided Dean too.

Avoided being with men.

It wasn’t a crush. It was something else entirely.

Something he didn’t understand yet.

⸻

It all clicked a few nights later.

They were working a case—a serial rapist who preyed on women living alone. He was meticulous, careful, skilled in choosing his victims.

Sloane flipped through the crime scene photos, her tone analytical. “All his victims were between 18 and 25, all lived in ground-floor apartments. He used a crowbar to pry open windows when doors weren’t an option.”

Michael barely paid attention to their words—his focus was on Y/N.

She sat stiffly, back straight, hands resting in her lap like she was trying not to react. Her breathing was controlled, too controlled, and her expression was carefully blank.

Too blank.

Michael opened his mouth to say something, to give her an out, but then Lia spoke.

“He doesn’t kill them, but sometimes, he waits.” She tapped the file. “Victim number three said he tied her up naked and just watched her for three hours before doing anything.”

Y/N flinched.

Michael felt her emotions spike before she abruptly pushed her chair back. “I’ll be right back.”

She left before anyone could respond, disappearing down the hall.

Michael didn’t hesitate. He followed.

⸻

He found her in the bathroom, gripping the sink, her knuckles white. She was breathing hard, her reflection in the mirror pale, strained.

“Y/N.”

She jumped at his voice, turning sharply. “I’m fine.”

Michael leaned against the doorframe, making sure to leave it slightly open. “No, you’re not.”

She exhaled harshly, looking away. “I just don’t like those cases.”

Michael crossed his arms. “Why?”

“I just don’t.”

He didn’t push. He didn’t have to.

She broke the silence first, voice barely above a whisper. “I was assaulted.”

Michael’s stomach twisted.

“Not—” She shook her head. “Not as bad as this serial rapist is doing… But bad enough.” Her voice wavered. “Enough that I still hate being alone with men. Even you.”

Michael felt something in his chest tighten.

She wasn’t scared of him. She was scared of what he could be.

He exhaled slowly. “I won’t ask for details. Unless you want to tell me.”

“I don’t.”

“Okay.”

She turned to him then, cautious.

Michael scoffed. “Y/N… I am gonna prove to you that you don’t have to be scared of me.”

Y/N stared at him, unsure.

Michael didn’t move closer. Didn’t offer her a hug, didn’t try to touch her.

Instead, he shrugged. “You trust Sloane, right?”

She nodded hesitantly.

“So I’ll earn my way there,” he said simply. “Like she did.”

For the first time, Y/N’s shoulders relaxed just a little.

It wasn’t a fix. It wasn’t immediate.

But Michael had time.

And he’d prove to her that not every man was worth fearing.

Even if it took forever.

[prince0fpaints]

Letting off some steam..

Venture x Reader

Warnings under cut!!

WARNINGS - mentions of male genitalia, choking, name calling/degrading, PLEASE PLEASE PLEAASSSEEE PROCEED WITH CAUTION!!!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ*✩‧₊˚

“Hey, Sloan, did you hear about this deal at the mall today?”

God.

“Hey Sloan-y look at this cool stick I found!”

What now?

“Pebble.. Pay attention to me!!”

That was the straw that broke the camel's back, Sloan was already swamped with backup work from the wayfinders society, they were assigned a pretty difficult case; finding the location of king Beau’s ceramic crown, said to be lost forever, but with bits and pieces being found in iceland gave the society hope and they, in turn, decided to put the best of them on the case.

Sloan was honored, they were incredibly ecstatic! The second they got home and told you about it you were equally excited and willing to help them. However, they told you they could handle it on their own, and even though it put you in a pouty mood, you let your lover work.

You let them work.. And work.. And work.. And then you began to miss them, they rarely left the house and that was thanks to Joel at the society to give Sloan all the time they needed to pinpoint a rough location on the artifact. Every now and again you brought them food but never lingered too long, until they would be moving around the house, just for a change of scenery not to be pelted by your requests for attention. They were nice to you at first, being as gentle as possible, scolding you and giving you tiny bits of attention.. Which unknowingly reinforced you to bug them more for attention.

“Baby, I know you’ve been missing me but I've gotta work, okay.. Fine, one kiss.”

. . .

“Amor, I’ve got work to do.”

. . .

“Minx, compórtate bien. Odiaría castigarte.”

You forgot for a moment what their Spanish did to you. You couldn't make out much, barely any at all, but they were smiling so it must have been a praise! You smiled back and went back to chatting their ear off. Sloan was currently sitting criss-cross on the comfy futon in the living room, you sat next to them talking about nothing in particular, just chatting.

You would trace the outside lines of their tattoos, lingering over the one on their wrist as their arms were bare and vulnerable, thank you tank tops! They were dressed quite casually, A black tank top, and those cartoony boxers with skulls and crossbones printed on the fabric.

“And then she kinda just left without her cup of extra cheese, and then got mad when she came back when the movie ended and ate her nachos! Like c’mon lady! That's your fault, so like-”

You weren't able to get any more words out as a hand moved to cover your lips, your eyes recognized the beautiful tan skin that was littered with tattoos, your pupils traced up the appendage to sloan’s eyes. They looked pissed.

Messy hair, bags under their squinted eyes, eyebrows furrowed to enunciate their current emotion of annoyance. A slight grimace on their lips caused their teeth to peek out slightly as they tightened their grip before adjusting your body.

You were laying on your stomach now, nose pressed against their thigh as they placed their computer on the arm of the futon, you squirmed and grunted as you tried to move and they silenced you, quick.

“callarse la boca. quedarse quieto.”

Hot.

You did as told, even if you could barely translate, you knew full well what Sloan would say when they wanted someone to be quiet. Your movements stilled, eyes looking up at Sloan from where they held your head, much gentler now as they shifted on the futon.

They released you momentarily before lifting their hips off the cushions and slipping their boxers off just to the middle of their thighs. You swallowed, hard, eyes first spotting the leather straps wrapped perfectly around their sculpted abdomen, and a familiar sight met your gaze.

Their cock, their crazily colored, beautiful length.

You stared at it, unable to tear your eyes away as your eyes looked over the pinks, purples, and yellows on the slightly curved length. You swallowed once more, body twitching unknowingly as you felt Sloan’s gentle hand wipe away some drool you didn't realize escaped your mouth.

“Messy. Here, make yourself useful while I work.”

You wanted to, to just wrap your lips around it and make your partner happy but were met with resistance as their hand tugged your hair back.

“Control yourself. Don't you dare misbehave, I can stop this at any time.”

You whine, you love when they get all dominant like this but hate when they threaten to stop playing with you like this. You felt your head nod mindlessly, Sloan’s strong hand guiding your wanting mouth to the tip of their length.

You bobbed your head in a slow rhythm, Sloan groaned in satisfaction, their head rolling back as they praised your skillful tongue, though the shaft occupying your mouth was silicone, you swore sloan was feeling every little lick and suck. They removed their hand from your now messy locs and went back to typing. You mentally pout, you don't have their undivided attention. You wanted to hear them, to feel their hands on you, to be praised about your skillful mouth. You began to pull off to groan at them only to be pushed back down, gagging slightly in the process.

“You've been mouthing off all day, god, you've been so desperate for me, haven't you.”

Your hips shift at their tone, mind so clouded, their voice felt like it wormed its way into your brain.

“God. If you'd only shut up, I wouldn't have to stuff your useless mouth like this.”

You let out a muffled moan, tears dripping down your cheeks and onto their perfect thighs and the leather straps.

“But knowing you, you probably like this, don't you?.. Apuesto a que estás todo mojado ahí abajo. ¿Sí?”

You moan around the silicon you were choking on.

“putita.”

You quite literally prove their point right after.

[writtenbeneaththestars]

The burn of your touch

Summary: how everyone else found out that Lia had been assaulted Warnings: past sexual assault, flashback/panic attack, brief thoughts of suicide, brief self-harm, thoughts of self-harm (please tell me if I missed anything!!) A/N: I love Lia so much and protective Dean and Michael fuels my entire existence so yk this came out *please tell me if I made any mistakes!!*

Tags: @catapparently

“So,” Michael said, his voice tantalizing and smooth. “Are we doing this?” Lia returned with a smirk.

“Well, they already know, don’t they?”

They both knew who she meant. The rest of their family. They had kept their new get-back-together as a secret for about a month before Lia needed to distract the rest of them when they had gotten into trouble. It wasn’t her fault Cassie got them caught while they were coming back from some party or other. Even Sloane managed to keep it together, but oh no, Cassie just had to give it away. She was noticing a trend with that girl – she was a terrible liar.

Michael brought his hand up to her face. But the moment their skin made contact, it was like a switch had been flipped. Because Michael turned into him. She could feel the rough skin of his hand on her face and it– it couldn’t be.

She was back in the room. Her old bedroom.

Everything was white. It was dark outside. He was sitting there. He couldn’t– she had to make up a lie. She had to– she had to– it couldn’t be– it couldn’t–

No. It wasn’t real. This couldn’t possibly be real. But it felt so real and she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. But she had to get away. She had to get away– as far away as she possibly could because she– she couldn’t breathe and she couldn’t– she couldn’t let it happen. Not again.

She was supposed to be free.

Michael was confused. One moment his girlfriend was fine and they were getting ready to make out again, and the next she was flinching away and– god the pure terror on her face. Her eyes were vacant, as if they weren’t really there. And she was so scared.

The dread and fear and self-hatred and pain was so clearly visible it was palpable in the air.

In all of the years he’d known her, Lia Zhang’s emotions were never this easy to read. It was like she was in a completely different world.

“Hey, um, Lia?” He asked, reaching out his hand. He hadn’t even touched her yet before she flinched violently away, backing into the corner and curling into a ball. She was moving as far away from him as possible, and that hurt something deep inside him. “Ok,” he said, desperately trying to keep his voice from shaking. “Ok. So no touching. Got it.”

He was back. He was back and there was nothing she could do. Not this time. He wasn’t listening. He wasn’t– why wasn’t he listening? She could– she could be a good girl. She could be good. She could be perfect. She would do everything he told her to do. Why wasn’t he listening?

Michael didn’t know what to do. He’d never seen her like this. Not Lia. Not the girl who was always so… strong. The one that never broke. He wanted to scream at himself, because he should have known, especially as the emotion reader, that the ones that look the strongest are the ones who are hiding their hurt.

He was advancing. She wanted to scream at him and push him back but she couldn’t. Because none of this could be real. She’d spent so long trying to prevent this from happening. It couldn’t– it couldn’t possibly be happening.

“Ok,” he repeated. He could tell her breathing was quickening now. It was shallow and fast and she was hyperventilating. And he knew that was bad. “I’m, um, I’m going to get Dean, alright?” She didn’t react. So he practically ran out of there, his heart pounding and his thoughts racing.

It was all her fault, wasn’t it. She should have known this would happen. She should have been good and everything would have been fine. But it wasn’t fine because he was here and he literally could not possibly be here because she– she wouldn’t survive if he was. But he was here. He was in her room and he closed the door and sat on her bed and– he couldn’t be here. He couldn’t– he couldn’t– he–

Michael ran down the hall to Dean’s room, pounding on the door once he got there. He heard giggling behind the door and he wanted to scream at whoever was behind there that this wasn’t a time for laughing. That something was happening with Lia and he felt so freaking powerless and he needed to do something, anything to help her so how dare they laugh? Dean opened the door, a light expression on his face.

“Hey, Townsend, stop assaulting the door. Jeez, what’s up with–” he stopped, his face darkening when he saw Michael’s face. He would have felt bad for ruining Dean’s mood, but not now. He realized on some level that he must have stopped hiding his emotions, but it didn’t matter that he was showing Dean what he was feeling because he was so effing scared and worried and– he just needed Dean to come. “Michael,” Dean said again, his voice louder and firmer than it was before. “What. Happened.” Under different circumstances, he would have made fun of Dean for his voice shaking. But under different circumstances, he wouldn’t even be here.

“Lia.” He could only let a single word out of his mouth. His voice shook the slightest bit. The moment the word made its way out of his mouth, he could see Dean’s expression change. The worry, the fear, the anger, it all multiplied exponentially. Michael heard Dean curse, his voice shaking. He knew how much Dean cared about his sister. How protective he was of her. How out of all of them, Dean knew the most about her past.

“Which room?” He asked. Michael could see the self-hatred and the pent up anger, but for once he wasn’t going to aggravate it.

“Mine.” Dean nodded, brushing past Michael. Lia hardly ever let anyone into her room. Michael had asked her about that once but she just brushed it off. It didn’t matter now though. How could it?

“Hey, what’s going on?” Cassie asked, walking up to the door. Michael couldn’t answer. The only thing it seemed that he was capable of doing right now was following Dean.

The moment Dean entered the room and saw Lia on the ground, he ran toward her. He knelt down next to her and reached out a hand but she flinched away with a scream that tore Dean’s chest in half. He wasn’t the emotion reader, but Dean knew what kind of scream that was. It was the sound of someone who had been hurt and knew they were going to be hurt again. The kind of desperation and resignation that made him want to punch someone over and over again until they were dead because his sister didn’t deserve this.

He wouldn’t leave. He kept coming closer. She deserved it, didn’t she. She– she deserved it, didn’t she? It was all her fault. And she– she really couldn’t breathe. She felt like she was about to pass out, and that would be better than this. Anything is better than this. With him.

“What did you do,” he asked, turning around to look at Michael. His voice was dark and dangerous, but he didn’t care. He was vaguely aware that Cassie walked in.

“Nothing,” Michael said. He was clearly worried and scared which meant something was deeply wrong with everything because Michael never showed his emotions. “I– we were going to kiss but then she flinched away and she– I don’t know.”

“What’s happening?” He heard a quiet voice behind him. He could see out of the corner of his eye that it was Sloane. He didn’t know when or how, but somehow he was on the ground again. He made sure to sit a few feet away from her, but she really needed to start breathing normally.

“We were going to kiss, and I didn’t do anything, I swear! But then she kind of just flinched and now she’s on the floor, screaming whenever anyone touches her.” Dean could see Michael pacing, and he wanted to do the same himself. Ok, that wasn’t true. He wanted to punch a punching bag until everything was ok again.

She needed to be not here. To be anywhere but here. To be anywhere but with him. She needed him to go away. He won’t go away. He won’t go away and she can’t move and she can’t breathe and she– she just couldn’t anymore, she just couldn’t she–

Sloane walked closer and sat down a few feet away from his sister on her other side, but she was looking at Dean, as if she was trying to communicate something without actually having to say it. And something told him that whatever she had to say would hurt him in one of the worst ways possible.

“What is it, Sloane,” he asked softly. She opened her mouth to speak but then closed it again and shook her head.

“Hey, Lia?” She said instead. “It’s ok. He’s not here. You’re safe. This house has incredibly high security measures, I can attest to that, and everyone here is safe to be around. He’s not here. You’re not there. You’re in Michael’s room, and you’re safe.” It took Dean’s buzzing brain a moment to register what Sloane was saying in her words. Lia was having a flashback. And as Sloane kept repeating it over and over again, it took another second for him to realize the rest of Sloane’s implications. Something about a man. He had a few suspicions about what specifically, but he refused to believe that it could be true, that someone could– no.

There was a faint noise. She could make out a few words. Something about being safe. But she wasn’t. He was here. He was here and she wasn’t safe and– and she couldn’t breathe. But then the voice said something about him not being here. But he was literally here. He was right in front of her, he was right there and coming closer. And then the voice said something about not being there. Of being in Michael’s room. It took her a long moment to realize who Michael was. And it took another moment for her to realize who the voice belonged to. Then she blinked and he was gone, though his touch still stayed.

After who knows how long, Dean breathed a sigh of relief when Lia’s eyes seemed to finally return to the present.

“Lia, can you– can you breathe for me please?” He said softly. Her eyes snapped over to him, and her breathing quickened still more, before she seemed to realize who he was. Dean wanted to scream when he realized that right now, men were terrifying for his sister and she was terrified of him. That hurt on a level he wasn’t aware was possible. “It’s ok. You’re safe. You’re safe in Michael’s room. I just need you to breathe, Lia, ok?”

She shook her head as she scrunched her eyes tightly closed and started clenching and unclenching her hands. Then she started scratching herself, and Dean wanted to punch the wall. He had forgotten what her panic attacks were like. It had been a few years since he’d seen one, and he wanted to yell at himself for thinking that they had just gotten better when he should have realized that she had just gotten better at hiding them.

“Hey, Lia? Don’t hurt yourself, ok?” She didn’t seem to hear him. And he wanted to hold down her hands, but that would just trigger her more and he felt so effing useless. “Please, Lia.” He whispered, scared that any volume above that would make her go back to wherever she was.

“Can’t,” she gasped out, her nails digging into her hand. “Breathe.”

“Just breathe in for four for me, ok? Can you do that?” He needed her to listen. He needed her to be ok. He wanted to jump up in joy when she followed what he said. It didn’t matter that it was way too quick to actually be effective, it was working. “Ok, now just hold it for four. That’s it. Now out for four. That’s good. That’s good, Lia.”

On some level she was aware that Dean wasn’t going to hurt her. That he was safe. But the voice kept switching back and forth and back and forth between Dean’s and his and why couldn’t she breathe? She followed what the words said. What the voice told her to do. She just wanted it to be over. She needed it to be over.

As her breathing slowly and shakily returned to normal, she stopped scratching herself and Dean could see the smallest amount of blood. He wanted to hold her and tell her everything was going to be ok, but he knew that would be bad. He just needed his sister to be ok.

She leaned her head against the wall and for the first time in a long time, Dean saw just how exhausted she was.

“Lia,” he heard Michael say. In his peripheral vision Dean saw him kneeling down next to Sloane. “What happened?”

Lia was so tired. She just wanted to sleep except she hated sleeping and being on the bed because he– no. She refused to think about that. Not now. She shrugged, rolling her eyes. At least she could finally breathe now.

“Flashback or panic attack type thing. What, have you never seen one before?” Her tone was flippant, thankfully.

“You know that’s not what I meant.” Michael’s voice was soft. Gentle. Like she could break at any moment and she hated that. She hated it so much. That was how he treated her mother. And she would not become her mother. She refused to.

“One, stop treating me like I’m fragile.” She shot a glare at Michael. Then she let out a sigh and leaned her head against the wall. She really would have to do this, wouldn’t she. “I was nine the first time. That was when I killed a man. Lies are protection, you know, and they’re also weapons. He just kept coming. But the lies always worked. They kept him back. Away. So it was safe. Then I turned twelve, and of course puberty happened and suddenly, they– the lies stopped working.” She was distinctly aware of her voice shaking. She could still feel him all over her. He had never stopped being all over her and she– she needed him to leave. She shrugged as she tried to block out the memories that were flooding into her mind.

“Lia, I–”

“No.” She cut Michael off, not looking at him. She was shaking. Why couldn’t she stop shaking? “Don’t, Michael.” She took another shaky breath. “He called my honey, sweetie, darling, any supposedly endearing term you can think of and he called me that.” She closed her eyes, lost in the pain. “He said I was special.” Her voice was barely audible, but she knew everyone in the room heard. “She knew what he did to girls he called special. She let him anyway.” She opened her eyes again. There weren’t any tears. There weren’t any tears because this had long progressed beyond the point of crying. It hurt too much for tears. She was too numb to cry. She knew that was a juxtaposition, but she didn’t care enough to make sense of it.

“He’s gone now,” Dean said and she wanted to curl up next to him like she used to do when she was younger and it was just the two of them and she had just started trusting him. But she couldn’t because she– she didn’t deserve to be comforted. And she’s scared that if he touched her, she would get transported back in time again and she couldn’t handle that.

“No, he isn’t.” Her voice shook. She hated that. “They never caught him. He’s a serial rapist on top of everything else and they never caught him.” She saw Dean flinch, as if he couldn’t quite believe that Lia had been– no. She hated using that word for herself. “And she just let him.” She sounded broken. She couldn’t quite bring herself to care; she was just exhausted. The only thing she wanted to do now was to sleep and never wake up. She was aware that it sounded like dying. Maybe she did want to die.

“It wasn’t your fault.” Sloane sounded so desperate for her to understand. “I– I should have said it when you first told me, but it wasn’t your fault, Lia.” Lia let out a soft laugh.

“Wasn’t it? If I had thought of a better lie, if I had found another way to keep him away, if I was invisible, if I wasn’t special,” she spat out the word. “If I had been better then it wouldn’t have happened.” She wanted to cry. She really, really wanted to cry but it hurt beyond the point of crying. Plus, she had already used up all her tears the night before in the safety of her locked room. There couldn’t possibly be any left.

“Lia,” Dean said with a strange intensity she hadn’t seen in him before. “It’s not your fault. Please, trust me. It’s not your fault.” Lia smirked for a brief second.

“Dean-o, you know I have trust issues.” He gave her a soft smile. She could tell that he wanted to hug her and hold her and she hated that he couldn’t. And god, why was he still all over her?

“Your mother shouldn’t have done that,” Sloane whispered. Oh Lia loved that girl.

“When I was still debating whether or not to take her with me, she told me she loved me.” She took a shaky breath. “And it was the truth. The funny thing about truths is that if you believe it, anything can be true.” She closed her eyes. “I’ve spent my entire life trying to figure out if that was really true or if she just believed it was true.”

“People who love you don’t– they don’t let that happen. People who love you don’t do that to you.” Sloane’s voice was vibrating with intensity. Lia gave her a soft smile.

“I know,” she whispered. And suddenly the overwhelming presence of him became way too much and she– she needed to get away. She needed him to be gone. She stood up, aware on some level that she was still shaking. “I’m taking a shower.” She clenched and unclenched her hands, yearning to feel something physical to get rid of the mental anguish. She knew the moment she stepped foot into that shower she was going to have a breakdown and she was going to make herself bleed but she couldn’t bring herself to care, she just needed him to get off of her.

“Hey, Lia?” She heard Dean say when she started shakily walking to the door. She stopped walking but didn’t turn around. “I– we’re all here for you.” She nodded the slightest bit. “And we’re going to catch him and make him pay.”

“Ok.”

But it wouldn’t be enough, and she knew that. Just like she knew that no matter how many showers she took, he was still going to be all over her. He was never going to leave.

And so what if the moment she stepped into the bathroom she broke down crying?

[hauntingkiki]

Hiii I was wondering if you can do a venture fluff alphabet? 😚

I NEVER KNEW THIS WAS A THING OMG

Sloan Camron Fluff Alphabet

Overwatch

2nd POV

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

A = Activities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

- sloan will literally do anything with you, but they prefer museum dates, pottery classes/paint pottery, aquariums, hikes, day trips, amusement parks-just anything that’s outside really

- but they also just like to relax with you at home, staying in comfy clothes and just cuddle all day!

B = Beauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

- sloan LOVES your eyes! just how they sparkle in the sun, how they light up when you’re talking about an interest and much more! sloan could stare into your eyes all day if you’d let them

- venture really like their dimples/smile. they’ll quote the line from coco where miguel goes “dimple. no dimple. dimple. no dimple.” just randomly😭

C = Comfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

- honestly, it kind of depends on how you were acting when they found you

- like if you were pissy and in a bad mood, they’d leave you alone to cool off. and if you’re crying your eyes out, they will not leave your side, holding you in their arms and helping you calm down from your state

- but sloan will try to get you to talk about what’s going on, so that way they can give you some advice

- and to get your mind off of it, they’ll kiss you all over your face and just cuddle with you:)

D = Dreams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

- sloan definitely wants to get married to you sometime in the future:}

- maybe a few kids if you both agree on it, but they’ll totally be fine if you didn’t want a family!

- they’d probably wait until all of this when they leave overwatch and possibly the wayfinder’s. they just want to prioritize you and your relationship over everything and with them traveling they feel like it’ll be hard, but if you tell them to stay then they well!

E = Equal - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

- they’re kinda of both, not one over the other, directly in the middle

F = Fight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

- sloan would be super forgiving, they’re the type of person to not want to go to bed angry at one another, so they’re always wanting to talk things out unless it’s something you don’t want to talk about in the moment

- if the two of you get into a fight, it’s the calmest thing ever. neither of you are yelling at one another, or accusing each other. just; one person goes first and gives their perspective, then when the first person is done, the other person will go

- it’s a very calming environment, maybe some crying from both of you, but the problem is instantly resolved!

G = Gratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

- sloan is very grateful for everything that they’ve gotten in life, all the sacrifices they made, their family/friends made,

- if you’re working your ass off, sloan is SO thankful for you and all that you do! all of your achievements will not go unnoticed by your partner!:)

H = Honesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

- sloan isn’t hiding anything from you(unless its family related stuff that they’re not ready to share yet) but you know everything about them

I = Inspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

- i think you mainly helped venture noticed some of the bad habits that they have, like how they’re kinda oblivious and how they talk over people by accident.

- obviously, the habits aren’t completely gone, as they have had these habits ever since they were a kid, but they’ve gotten better!

J = Jealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

- sloan hardly gets jealous, but if they do it’s for the right reason; like if someone’s hitting on you when you’re making it obvious that you’re taken or stuff like that

- if they are jealous, they’ll act supper touchy/flirty with you in front of the person that’s annoying you. they’ll kiss your cheeks, let their hands wonder, have their hand around your waist and whatnot

K = Kiss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

- at first they were a horrible kisser, since they’ve never been in a relationship before

- but as time quickly went on, they got better

- the first kiss was kind of romantic, it was after a date/hangout and you both went for a kiss. their lips were chapped, tasted like gravel/dirt, and they accidentally nicked you with their chipped tooth, which made your lip bleed

L = Love Confession - How would they confess to their s/o? (this is from a scenario i wrote on my wattpad🌚)

- they waited a few weeks before confessing, getting advice from angela and also making sure that their feelings were permanent as well as a few other factors they wanted to clear up

- "i need to tell you something!"

"..."

"I REALLY LIKE YOU!! PLEASE GO OUT WITH ME!"

"..."

*gasps dramatically* "YOU WILL?!"

"...”

"...why the fuck am i roleplaying with a rock."

- this is how the confession went:

"i like you! i think? i dunno! everything is so confusing about this, i don't know what i'm doing!-"

"it's okay! i already knew you liked me. and i like you too, sloan."

"...REALLY?!"

M = Marriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

- HELL YEAH THEY WANT TO MARRY YOU

- they were SOOO nervous about proposing, they asked everyone they knew for tips and advice for it

- they probably proposed with a custom ring with your favorite gemstone/your birthstone

- and they probably proposed either in a really cave that they explored OR your dream location

- again, sloan was very nervous about proposing. they almost fucked it up from how nervous they were but they were relieved when you said yes!:)

- nothing about your relationship really changed, just the fact that the two of you were engaged and getting married!

N = Nicknames - What do they call their s/o?

- sloan had a verity of nicknames for you😭

cariño

mi amor

babe

hun

mi vida

hermosa/hermosos

tesoro

any cute gem related nickname that you like

O = On Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

- they are the same…just 10 times worse

- they will not shut up about you (unless the person they’re talking to gets annoyed by their yapping) they’re just so in love with you!

- it’s super obvious to others, since whenever you walk into the room, they have a love sick look on their face

- they randomly give you artifacts, gems and cool rocks that they found that reminded them of you! it could even be a rock they found on the sidewalk and they’d give it to you!

P = PDA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

- they’re not really bragging, just yapping about their undying love, like i said on On Cloud Nine

- sloan isn’t shy to kiss you in front of others, the wayfinder’s have seen WAYY worse, so they’re not bothered by a little pda from the two of you:)

Q = Quirk - Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

- sloan can make you laugh without even trying.

- they could say the dumbest thing and it’s the funniest thing ever

R = Romance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

- they’re very romantic!

- they will do everything and anything for you, just to see you smile!

S = Support - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

- venture is very supportive, your biggest cheerleader EVER

- they do their best to learn about your hobby/goal so they can help you in the best way possible!

T = Thrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice out your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

- venture kinda of prefers the same routine, but is down to change some things up in the relationship to add to the thrill.

- “we gotta have lore for when we’re older!”

U = Understanding - How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

- they know you from how much you tell them things, which is hopefully a lot since they tell you a lot of things in their life:)

- they’re very understanding with things, and there might be some things that they don’t understand, but are willing to learn more about it for you, like in Support

V = Value - How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?

- your relationship is very important to sloan, they wouldn’t want to lose it

- they would quit their job if you told them too, you matter too much to them for them to lose

W = Wild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

- venture has a buttload of songs saved for your ringtone, such as

my girl, the temptations

be my baby, the ronettes

better in the dark, jordana, tv girl

luna, amore e no, piero piccioni

and a bunch of other songs:)

- they also have many pictures of you in their wallet, one on their drill and some other places

X = XOXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

- they are very affectionate, i go into more detail in the sfw alphabet btw:3

- they will DIE if they don’t get cuddles and kisses from you! you are their LIFELINE!

Y = Yearning - How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

- sloan will stay up late watching videos of the two of you, looking at pictures, listening to voicemails/voice messages, reread old texts, and…yk…

- they’re just waiting until the mission is over until they’re in your arms again!!

Z = Zeal - Are they willing to go to great lenghts for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

- yes! they’re willing to do anything to make you happy!

- unless it’s murdering someone then they might have to decline (they’ll ask someone else to do it/j)

- but in all seriousness, if you wanted them to leave overwatch/wayfinder’s they would do it, even though it would pain them to leave just an amazing job, they would for you:)

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

I HOPE YOU ENJOYED!! AND THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST! I LOVE DOING THEM!

i need more requests😔

[venture4treasure]

“And I, well I found what’s best for me”

Words: 2817

Premise: A non-canon fan continuation of @archangelsarchway fics: part one and part two. Struggling with learning to move on from Venture after their amnesia and newfound affection for Mei, Reader feels like something isn’t quite right. Someone is pulling the strings and nobody has realized. 

Warnings: Implied major character death, Memory loss, Kidnapping, Drugging, Blood, they/them pronouns for Reader, Implied body modification, Unhappy ending

“What did you say?” Your eyes widen in alarm, turning to face the trio.

“Rein,” you demand, half begging, as your heart rate picks up, “what did you say”. 

“I… didn’t say anything,” Reinhardt answers, confused. 

Sojourn affirms that nothing was said. 

You stand up suddenly, slamming your hands on the table a little harder than you had meant. Everyone was looking at you now. Mei crowds behind Venture at your sudden action. You duly note that you never did apologize to her for that. 

“Are you alright?” Lifeweaver offers to let you lean your weight on him as you grow dizzy and unbalanced. 

“I’m fine,” you grit out, “head’s just hurting out of nowhere”. 

“I’m going to go wash up and maybe take some painkillers, be back in a moment,” you say to the group, pushing yourself off Lifeweaver, “sorry about the scare. Congratulations on your marriage” you add with a pained smile. 

You hurry off to the washroom, splashing water on your face. You must look like a mess, but the pain behind your eyes is unbearable and almost blinding. Hunched over the sink, the water still running, a violent cough overtakes you. 

There’s blood in the sink now. It’s yours. Something is wrong. You should’ve known, you berate yourself. You should’ve trusted your gut. Kiriko was here, right? You’re pretty sure she can heal you without her gear. And then you’d report your concerns of some kind of poisoning to Winston, and the scientists at Overwatch would figure it out. It was a simple plan, you could manage. 

You look up at the mirror to try and compose yourself, a feeling of dread falls over you when you see a reflection of someone behind you. You’re about to turn around when a hand settles on your back, a burning pain knocks you out. 

—

Lifeweaver nudges Sojourn, calling out to the table that they’re going to check on you. The two of them head towards the building the garden is attached to. 

“Do you think they’re doing okay?” Lifeweaver asks, “maybe seeing a wedding is still a bit much”.

“They’ve been doing fine moving on from what I’ve seen,” Sojourn replies, “I think something isn’t right. They’ve been really confused with events regarding Sloan recently. They keep asking me to confirm if certain things really happened, and some of the things they’ve been coming up with… I don’t remember anything remotely similar happening. Things that are completely made up”.

“Seeing and hearing things, and mistaking them for memories? They’re not on any medication that would cause hallucinations that bad from what I recall,” Lifeweaver brows furrow in concern. 

“We’ll get an answer if we ask, I’m sure,” Sojourn says.

She knocks on the door to the washroom. 

“Hello?” No response, she flashes a worried look at Lifeweaver. 

“Are you okay? If you want to head out, Niran and I will keep you company, we’re about done with the excitement anyways”. It’s still met with silence. 

“I’m going to come in, okay?” Sojourn calls out. 

Turning the handle reveals it’s unlocked. Both Sojourn and Lifeweaver share a concerned glance. 

“Oh my god”. Lifeweaver breathes at the scene before them. 

The faucet is still running water. Blood splattered the edges of the sink and ran down the mirror. A trail of red smeared across porcelain and streaked the floor – like a body had been dragged. 

Lifeweaver closes the door to preserve any evidence. A feeling of regret washes over him, he should’ve gone with you. Sojourn calls in a missing person, her voice calmer than her anxious pacing would have you think. 

—

Overwatch had passed the case off to the authorities, which fell cold after some months. Everyone was forced to move on with their work without their fellow agent, but not everybody was content with the idea of giving up. So when an anonymous tip – sealed with a purple skull – was handed off to Venture; Sojourn and Lifeweaver pushed for an investigation.

A small, but capable group was sent out. With Sojourn leading the team, Lifeweaver, Reinhardt, Venture, and Mei arrived at Eichenwalde. 

An eerie silence greets them. No bird songs or stray animals scurrying about. They start their search by clearing out any danger from the main roads. At the foot of the castle, a rock drops to their location, clattering noisily. Venture kneels to pick it up, checking in the direction it came from – its trajectory indicates that it was thrown and not from crumbling buildings, besides it’s not a rock common to this area. They don’t get far in their thoughts when a monstrous howl interrupts the silence. The team instinctively points their weapons toward the sound. 

A creature prowls on the top of abandoned buildings, roof tiles fall with each step it takes. It looks like a griffin – eagle’s head and lion’s body, but even that’s not quite right. Its hind legs change from fur to scales, and where lion paws should’ve been are a set of reptilian claws. Its snake-like tail whips behind it, sounding a frightening cracking noise. 

It flares its feathers, jumping at the group. Reinhardt is quick to throw up his shield. The force of the pounce has his shield cracking and pushes him back as he tries to dig his feet into the ground. Large talons slam and scratch at the shield. Like this, they can truly see how large the beast is. On all fours it matches Reinhardt’s height. 

“My shield won’t last!”

“What is THAT?”

The sound of a shield shatter is the group’s signal to scatter. Lifeweaver throws a petal for Mei, Reinhardt, and himself. Venture burrows away and Sojourn slides out of the beast’s line of attack. It snaps its beak angrily, its sight locked onto Sojourn. 

Sojourn aims a railgun shot and it moves out of the way. It dodged. It understands the concept of guns, Sojourn notes with alarm. She’s not able to slide away a second time before the creature is on top of her, caging her under its body. Between the feathers of its neck and torso, there’s hair peeking out between the plumage. It’s not dissimilar to human hair and even more similar to someone who went missing months ago. A cold despair freezes her in place.

Lifeweaver throws out his life grip to try and pull Sojourn away, it’s caught midway through its recall by the beak of the monster. A strong jerk pulls him off the platform, he catches himself, but his gear is broken – and probably his wrist too. Sojourn regroups with him, throwing out some covering fire to stall time as Mei and Venture try to flank it. 

“Niran, you don’t think this is…” Sojourn asks, hoping for a different opinion. 

Lifeweaver squints at the beast in front of it, noting down details. Its fur colour is horribly familiar and its eyes…

Tearing his gaze away, he hisses out a swear.

“I thought so,” Sojourn remarks bitterly. 

—

“Mei! Can you get us some cover? Just some time to regroup with a plan,” Sojourn yells over the fighting. 

“S-sure,” Mei calls back, throwing up an ice wall. The creature pounds against it, the cry of ice giving away reminds the group that they’re on a timer.

They take cover in a buried storage room, banking on the idea that birds have a weak sense of smell. 

“Venture,” Sojourn says, placing a hand on their shoulder, “did you figure out who that is?” 

“Yeah,” Venture swallows, “yeah, I think so”.

“Then I’m sure you know that they loved you dearly. Even after you moved on to another, they never stopped loving you,” Sojourn pauses, “even if it was to a fault”. 

“And I’m not saying this just to slander them while they’re like this, that first year for them was rough. But every day after, they worked hard to learn to move on, so you could move on,” Sojourn continues, “I think you should try and talk to them, maybe it’ll snap some sense into them and give us the opening we need to win”. 

Mei tries to argue and is cut off by Sojourn before she can speak a word, “I’m not asking you to get back together or to pretend like you love them still, just talk to them. Your voice is enough, trust me”. 

A doubtful silence falls over the group, broken by the crumbling of wood and stone as the creature lets out a growl. It’s looking for them, and they all know they’re running out of time. 

“I have one Tree of Life I can use,” Lifeweaver shouts over the sound, “if we’re going to try this, we’re going. Now”.

The team hurries out of the storage room they were taking cover in. The creature immediately turns towards them with a deafening roar.

“Life protects life!”

The pink tree pulses brightly, stunning the beast. It approaches the offending structure with malicious curiosity. 

Venture shouts their name – the name of someone gone missing months ago. 

The beast snaps towards the sound, growling lowly as it approaches Venture. 

“Hey,” Venture says as if striking up a conversation, “I’ve heard a lot about you. And I should know a lot about you if what I’ve been told is true. I’m sorry that I don’t”.

It stops in its approach, the growling doesn’t cease, but quiets to a noise that doesn't make their body tremble with fear. It blinks at them, as if to tell them to continue.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t ever reach out and I’m sorry that I treated you the way I did,” Venture’s voice shakes, they hadn’t meant to get emotional over this, “I should’ve done better, especially when I saw that you were trying to do right by me. If you’ll give me a chance, I’d like to try to do right by you this time”. 

It lowers its bird-like head to Venture’s eye level. It stops growling and seems to be observing Venture. It makes a couple clicking sounds, the latter half of noises starting to sound like vowels. 

It’s trying to talk to me, Venture realizes in shock.

They hastily turn to rummage something out of their bag, they can hear their team yelling at them through comms to not turn their back to it, but this felt like the right thing to do.

Venture looks back to the creature, a silver ring cupped in their hands, “look! You gave this to me, didn’t you? I know I stopped wearing it, but I couldn’t just throw it away because it felt like it was something special. Too special to throw away, you know?” They rambled. 

It shifts its body, tilting its head so it can better look at the ring. Venture moves the ring in their hand, holding it between two fingers so if it wants to grab it from them, it can. For a moment, it seems like it does want to take it, it moves its head closer, emitting a soft audible vibration.  

The rumble of an engine makes both of them turn to the sound. The beast turns faster, but it’s too late. Reinhardt’s hammer slams into the side of it, sending it through brick railing and off the edge. It screeches in pain, it’s an ear piercing noise that makes everyone flinch. 

“NO,” Venture breathes in panic, racing to the ledge. 

—

Your head hurts and your body has been moving on its own accord. Every time you try to think or remember, your brain feels like it’s going to explode. So, you’ve just followed exactly what you’ve been told. And maybe it’s not so bad like this. When you do as told, you get to eat tasty food and sleep on a soft bed. And like this, you’re not hurting. You were hurting before, you think. At least that’s what she tells you. Plus, this form makes you powerful. Strong enough that no one can hurt you again, strong enough to protect- 

Protect what? You don’t remember. 

Through the fog of your brain that you left on autopilot, you can hear a name. One you should know. 

It’s your name, isn’t it? Then who’s saying it? 

You try to squint to see better, but this body doesn’t have the muscle to do so. Instead you blink, the sudden darkness stuns you for a second. The voice starts talking again, and it makes you feel. The emotions make you recoil, but you have to know. You lean down towards them to see better. 

Venture! 

‘Sloan’ you try to say. Your body doesn’t have vocal cords, so it comes out as a series of meaningless chirps. Frustrated, you try again, ‘Sloan! Venture! Help me! Save me! I’m sorry.’ None of it comes out right. 

You’re prepared to keep trying when they cut you off by searching their bag. You can hear the rustle of items better than you can understand the mess of colours in your vision – you guess your vision changed with your body, you just never noticed until now.

They bring a small trinket into your vision. It sparkles in the sun and artificial tree’s light. 

“You… me… special…”

Special… you guys were something special, weren’t you? You think it’s a ring they’re holding, but you can’t really make out an item so small. Maybe if you get closer, you’ll be able to see better.

A motorized noise makes your body’s instincts kick in, you spin towards the direction it’s coming from, snapping your beak in aggression. You barely register what’s happening when something heavy smashes into you, you can feel your bones break from the impact. Your mind blacks out. 

The ground beneath you disappears and your claws scrabble against stone to find something to keep you from falling. You manage to hook your talons into something to keep you up. 

When you regain a sense of self again, your memories come back to you in complete clarity. You almost let go of your grip because of it. You’re in full control of your body now, you realize. There’s no barrier to your thinking, it’s just you. And you're scared. You try to stretch your wings to get back up. They’re broken, you realize. You peer up desperately, Venture’s looking down at you equally as panicked. 

“Help me,” you say, expecting it to come out incomprehensible, but Venture jolts.

“Hang on,” they answer back, they’re looking around to find a way to save you. 

You feel your front claw slip from its hold as stone falls away under it. You swing your hind legs to find some kind of purchase, but there's nothing, you’re kicking at air. You take a moment to look around you, it’s all stone bridges. There’s a castle, old and adorn with moss. Familiar worn orange roofs come into sight. It’s Eichenwalde. Finally, you peek below you – you already know what you’re going to see – a seemingly endless fall. There’s a river down there, or so you’ve been told, not that you can see it through the dense fog. 

“Sloan,” you look back up and they’re moving to face you again. 

“Do you have an idea?” They ask, frazzled, a hand in their hair, “Mei’s ice wall and Niran’s petal platform don’t have any ground to work on, and his life grip was destroyed by…” 

“I’m sorry,” you try to smile, you’re not sure this body can but you try, “I’m sorry,” you repeat a couple more times. 

“I hope you’re happy,” you say. You’re concerned it came across as passive-aggressive, so you correct yourself, “be happy”.

The wall crumbles underneath your grip again, you strain to keep a hold on what’s left. You’re tired and your strength is wearing away with your adrenaline. 

“Talon… purple doctor! She!” You rattle off what you can remember, “poison, medicine, made me forget… made you forget? Hallucinations!”

“Sorry Mei…” you add. 

You let out a surprised shriek when your claws slide against stone, you’re going to fall. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you squawk. 

You think you see Mei and Sojourn silhouette besides Venture now.

“I love you. Live your life doing what makes you happy”.

You fall. 

—

The noises sound more like words now, but they’re still horribly animalistic, especially when you got more panicked. 

“I love you. Live… happy,” they had managed to make out from your last words. Venture’s heart sinks.

Venture watches you fall in horror. They can feel Sojourn and Mei’s grip on them, keeping them from doing something stupid. They scramble away from the edge as a sharp pain stabs through their head. Hazy memories returned to them. Memories of their time with you. 

Venture covers their mouth with their hands as if to keep themselves from speaking, but the guilt falls out anyways. 

“It’s my fault”.

—

A figure muses at the scene beneath her from a shadowed ledge out of Overwatch’s sight.

“Fascinating”.

Author’s Note: YOU. @archangelsarchway. YOU BETTER START RUNNING, CAUSE WHEN I GET MY HANDS ON YOU. /pos

This is something super self-indulgent. A little treat for me, if you will 😋

I re-explained the motive behind this story to myself. And yeah, I guess I did kill Reader to save Reinhardt and Mei from being the bad guys. Sorry Moira…

Because I care too much about this world; the reason why Reader was able to become what they did is probably due to their body composition, as in, they’re not completely human to begin with – this is also probably related to their abilities that got them into Overwatch. What I’m trying to say is, Talon wouldn’t be able to create more creatures, their world is not doomed.

Quote is from Little Pistol by Mother Mother.

[anotherbabyhag]

Hi! My name is Kiki, I am a writer currently obsessed with Aubrey Plaza. I made this side blog so I don’t have to be horny on main and also to get back into reader insert fic writing. My theory is if I get requests then I might be more motivated to write. Also I will write for some fandoms not involving Aubrey Plaza, see below for details.

How this works:

Send your requests and I will get to them when I can (I am a slow writer).

All full fics will be posted on AO3 (user: CanYouImagineThat) and linked on this blog.

Imagines, alphabets, headcanons, drabbles/ficlets etc will all be posted directly on this blog.

Masterlist will be updated regularly and can be found here.

I will try to write every request but that may not happen. I work full time and study full time so shit happens. I also won’t write anything that doesn’t appeal to me.

I may not write requests in the order I receive them, I will just write whatever I’m in the mood for.

This is meant to be fun and inspire me to write more, if it ends up feeling like a chore I’ll probably just leave.

Who I will write for:

Aubrey’s characters - Rio Vidal, Sarah Fidel, Lucy Stanbridge, Riley Johnson, Cat Adams, Harper Spiller, April Ludgate, Lenny Busker, Kat (Spin Me Round). These ones I’ll definitely write for, if you want someone else, feel free to drop a request in and I’ll see what I can do.

Other characters -

Agatha All Along - Lilia Calderu

Once Upon A Time - Regina Mills, Zelena Mills, Rumplestiltskin

Doctor Who - 10th Doctor, 12th Doctor, Clara, Missy

The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina - Zelda Spellman, Hilda Spellman, Madam Satan

NCIS - Jack Sloane

Criminal Minds - JJ, Spencer Reid, Penelope Garcia, David Rossi

Doom Patrol - Laura de Mille

Supergirl - Lena Luthor

Be aware requests for Aubrey’s characters will likely be prioritised due to the hyperfixation.

What I will write:

Oneshots. Ficlets/drabbles. Headcanons. Imagines. Smut Alphabet. Fluff Alphabet. Angst Alphabet. Please specify which of these you're wanting in your request.

Fluff. Smut - including kink content. Angst with happy ending.

I will write for any kinks that I have - main ones include dom and sub dynamics (I’m a switch so happy to write reader as either), bondage, teasing, edging, orgasm denial, ruined orgasms, overstimulation, tickling, dirty talk and/or verbal teasing, humiliation/degradation (mainly verbal), praise kink.

What I will NOT write:

Multichapter fics - there may be some flexibility here with writing follow ups to previous oneshots but I’m never gonna be one of those people with a 10 chapter 77k word fic (I don’t even read those myself).

RPF, underage characters, fics where the reader is the child of a character, rape/sexual assault, incest, dark angst such as gore/violence/torture/kidnapping/abuse.

Major AUs. Like changing little details is fine but changing the whole setting is a no go.

Male!reader - purely because I'm not a man and I'm not sure I'd do it justice.

Kinks I do not have - especially anything involving pain (light spanking is fine anything else no), choking, mummy or daddy kink, age regression, and anything involving bodily fluids (spit is fine). If you have a kink not specifically mentioned here or in the what I will write section feel free to send in a request but know I may not write your fic.

[asktheumbrellas]

come on in. let’s chat.

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after doing their best to prevent the apocalypse again and again, the hargreeves siblings have finally found themself in a reset timeline. miraculously, they’ve still got their powers, but doomsday no longer awaits them. they’re finally safe from the end of the world.

but safe is boring.

so do them a favor, ask a question. tell a joke. dump a random thought that’s rotting in your head.

they’d appreciate it. maybe.

══════════════════════

context:

this takes place in the hargreeves mansion. the siblings all live there at this point in time.

klaus can see ben (because i said so), although this ideally takes place post s3. the universe is reset, but the siblings still have their powers. why? because i want them to.

pogo and grace are back! they tend to float around.

lila is also here. sloane, ray, and claire are around too. dave and sissy (as much as i wish they were) are not. :(

sparrow ben may pop in and out if he gets a question.

reginald is alive, so go ahead and ask him questions if you feel so inclined.

also, five has mannequin delores in his room because i said so. he needs his emotional support hunk of plastic.

══════════════════════

see rules, masterlist, and origin post below the cut.

══════════════════════

rules:

absolutely no five x lila, no luther x allison, no harcest, absolutely none of that disgusting shit. if you like that stuff, block this blog, and i’ll block you. thanks. :)

blog owner is 18+, so NSFW submissions are fine. just don’t get too crazy, people. (also five is still physically 13 at this point so i better not get any weird shit about him. thanks!)

══════════════════════

masterlist:

What do the Bens think of each other?

If you guys could swap your powers with anyone else’s, whose would you swap them for?

Tell Five he doesn’t have to act like a douchebag anymore

══════════════════════

you may be wondering.. how did this all come to be?

Five sits on the sofa just before the fireplace, nose-deep in his book. A perfect fluffer-nutter sandwich and a mug full of steaming black coffee sits on the coffee table. The peace and quiet is so uncharacteristic for the Hargreeves, and Five is just beginning to think he might be able to enjoy it.

As if on cue, Klaus enters with a smile. He’s ignored by his brother until a pair of feet land in his lap and an overdramatic sigh echoes through the grand living space.

“What do you want, Klaus?” Five doesn’t bother looking up from his book.

“I’m bored.”

“I’m sure you are. Would you consider doing it somewhere else?”

Klaus crosses his arms in a mock pout and looks around the room in silence for a minute before exclaiming, “Hey, i’ve got an idea!”

“Really hoping you’ll keep it to yourself.”

“Why don’t we open an ask box?”

Five leans his head against the back of the couch in annoyance before dropping the bookmark between the pages and throwing it down on the coffee table. “A what?”

“An ask box. Y’know, so people can ask us questions!”

Five squints his eyes and stares at him for a few seconds. “Alright, i’ll bite. Why on earth, Klaus, would we do that?”

Klaus shrugs. “For fun.”

Five continues to stare at him in silence. “Will it get you to allow me some peace and quiet?”

Klaus nods like an eager puppy, fully understanding that Five will never know peace again.

Another sigh. “Then fi-”

Before he can finish, Klaus is springing to his feet and shouting toward the doorway. “Guys, get down here! The old bastard said yes!”

Five repeatedly hits his head against the back of the couch in mock frustration as the rest of the siblings rush into the room.

“What? What’s going on?” Allison asks urgently. Diego and Luther arrive shortly after her, with Viktor following behind them.

Klaus clasps his hands together and smiles. “We’re doing an ask box. For funsies.” He does a small gesture of jazz hands to emphasize his point.

Luther lights up. “Hey, wait, I’ve heard of those! I love answering questions!”

Klaus points finger guns at him. “Bingo, big guy. No more boring days wasting away in this hellhole of a house. We’re gonna answer some questions. Ben thinks it’s a great idea.” He pauses to scowl at the corner as Ben most likely disagrees with him.

Five closes his eyes. “Can you idiots please find somewhere else to do this? Leave an old man with some sort of peace and quiet?”

Viktor and Allison take a seat on the sofa across from Five. Luther exchanges a look with Diego, who crosses his arms and looks back at Klaus. “What kind of questions?”

Klaus lowers himself back onto the couch and pulls out a small box labeled ‘ask the umbrellas’. After placing it on the table next to Five’s breakfast, he leans back with his hands nonchalantly clasped behind his head. A smirk fills his face as he says, “We’ll just have to wait and find out.”

══════════════════════

[juliaboudewijn]

I have a completely unhinged theory regarding Dain's signet and it's 90% based on delusion. Let's just dive right in, shall we?

So, I was thinking of a scenario where Dain and Sloane are talking to each other. At some point, Sloane is wondering if she could've saved Liam if she had been there and had her signet already (classic rumination). I don't know if she could tbh, she would have to replace the magic of an entire dragon, and well, I mean, maybe she could get that magic from somewhere, siphoning from multiple people and herself maybe? But naturally, I started wondering if Dain could've saved him with his signet if he had been there. And lo and behold, I found a way.

Dain can read memories, and even though he hasn't done that yet, I believe he would also be able to make people relive their memories. But could he also physically bring them back to one of their memories? Let me explain. Liam died because of the sudden loss of power from Deigh and the emptiness that resulted from that, right? But what I'm wondering is: before he bonded Deigh, he also lived without that power, and his body was fine with it. So, could Dain make him relive a memory from before he bonded Deigh and physically bring him back to that memory, so that his body will revert to a state of being okay without power? In this, Liam would not lose any memories from after that moment, he would still have the same experiences and everything, it's just the mental state of his body that goes back. Or something like that. Idk if this makes sense. Can Dain resurrect people through their memories???? (Well... I mean, they wouldn't be dead yet, so I don't know if this counts as 'resurrection'. I do also believe this theory was related to the idea that resurrection had never been possible. As soon as I read that in book one, I figured it would become a thing.)

Now I don't know if it is realistic to say Dain could've saved Liam (at least I tried...), but maybe just generally bringing people back into their memories for whichever purpose. I mean, I couldn't think of any other reasons why that would be useful, but... idk. Some sort of time travel through memories; sending people back into a past version of themselves in the present (without losing the memories of said present). Kinda like bringing the memories to life. Can we do something with that?

Also, lastly, my reaction when I first thought of this theory was this: "Oh brilliant. Oh it's brilliant. I got tears in my eyes when I thought of it." Thought people might liked to hear that 🤪. I then I wrote it in my notes starting with: "So, his signet is basically useless, right?" XDD To be fair, I did follow that up with an "At least in battle."

I also have some more serious thoughts about Dain's signet, but I'll share that in a separate post.

UPDATE: Part two of my theories is now live! And so is part three.

[garricks4thwingqueen]

Hi! I have a request. Would you consider writing a fic where Garrick’s gf is having a panic attack and he comforts her through it?

The Gauntlet: Garrick Tavis x Reader

             The Gauntlet: Garrick Tavis X Reader 

Synopsis: Your Liam Mairi’s younger and much shorter twin sister barely reaching 5 feet. You're in an established relationship with Garrick Tavis; your relationship officially started when the both of you were fostered together after their parents rebellion. You passed the parapet barely; your only drive being seeing Garrick before stepping on the dreaded thing and knowing you’d be in his arms afterwards after 2 years of being separated. What could possibly be worse than the Parapet? 

Word Count: 1401 

Trigger Warnings: Panic attacks and swearing 

My love: Mo ghràdh

   You stood outside with your squad next to your brother looking up at the side of the mountain; you had never been more terrified in your life. You didn’t even think you were this terrified as you huddled with your brother and younger sister Sloane as Garrick stood behind you as you all watched your parents get executed. You had barely been listening to Emeterrio as he was describing the obstacle of death as you clutched onto your brother's arm for dear life. “Relax.” He squeezed your hand softly. “I’m gonna die; I’m not even going to make it past the spinny log. Tell Gare I love him.” You heard your brother chuckle next to you. “That’s not funny Liam.” You groaned as Professor Emeterrio started calling cadets to start. “You’ll be ok, you maybe short but you're strong just remember to grab the ropes if needed.” 

     “Y/N Mairi.” You groaned as he called your name looking back at Liam one final time; your twin giving you a nod of encouragement. You tried remembering the names of the obstacles as you stood before the spinning log, the pillars and the mouse wheel of death. If it wasn’t going to be the wheel that got then it would be the big bouncy balls on death chains. If it wasn’t those then it would be the weird moving iron broads of death. If you somehow made it past those then you’d surely fall off the staircase of rolling logs. You knew damn well this thing would kill you at some point you’d never make it to the leaning chimney and then the ramp of death at the end. “Let’s go Mairi. You’ll also be timed the day of.” You cursed stepping onto the log slowly trying to gain your balance. You feel barely five feet on to the log; thankfully you still had part of the cliff to catch yourself; you knew you had two more attempts for each practice. You gathered yourself and started again. You made it a little further before you found yourself grasping for the rope. You cursed as you barely made it back onto the flat surface. 

     “One more attempt.” You could hear Emeterrio  yell from below. You breathed heavily not being able to catch your breath; you slowly stepped onto the log and almost made it to the end that time but again you found yourself grasping for the rope and sighed in defeat. Back on solid ground and standing with the others in your squad you watched biting your lip as you watched your brother gracefully make it to the wheel. 

         “I’m gonna fucking die.” You sighed sitting down next to Garrick at dinner with your group of rebels. Dinner was the one time Garrick and Xaden chose not to sit at the dais with the others in leadership. You felt the familiar soft touch of Garrick placing his hand on your back as he pulled you closer. “You’ll be fine Mo ghràdh.” Garrick said softly, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck. You hadn’t even realized you had started shaking your legs until your brother placed a soft hand on your knee on the leg that was next to him. “I can’t even make it past the spinny log of death.” You sighed heavily feeling your panic attack coming to a climax. Which you knew Garrick had felt as well as he shifted you onto his lap at the table and wrapped his arms around you as you buried yourself into him. “You're not going to die baby girl.” He said softly into your shoulder. “I’ve got you. You're alright.”  “Can’t I just piggy back it on your back across the gauntlet?” He chuckled softly and said, god that was a sound that you loved that you always loved and missed terribly over the past and now you feared it would be the last time that you did hear it.  “I wish that it could be that simple; my Y/N. You’ll finish Mo ghràdh, I promise. I love you.” He said softly but reassuringly, kissing your forehead softly as you propped your chin on his chest; “I love you to Gare Bear, so much.” “Gross, get a room.” Imogen snickered. You snuck your tongue out at your best friend, laying your head fully onto Garrick’s chest as you were no longer hungry. 

       It was the night before the final day of the gauntlet. It was almost 10:00 p.m. and you knew you should be making your way to Garrick’s room but instead your feet somehow guided you to the gauntlet. 

                                                 Garrick’s POV

  I paced in my room. It was almost 10:30 p.m. an hour and a half past curfew. I knew Y/N should have been in my room by now; I sighed pulling my shirt back on and grabbing my boots. I had checked Imogen’s room, even Xaden’s and Bodhi’s before making my way to the first year boys shared dormitory and opening the door making my way over to Liam’s bed and shaking him awake. “Jesus fu-.” Liam started to groan. “Have you seen your twin or any idea where she is?” This had made the younger boy sit up and reach for his shirt and boys. “No but I might have an idea.” “Yeah me too and that's what I was worried about.” I sighed as we made our way to the gauntlet. “Do you see anything?” I asked Liam as we both made our way up the stairs; “Wait down there on the rolling logs.” I half smiled knowing she made it that far as Liam and I started making our way across barely enough light to see. I cringed as I heard her faint swearing and saw her rolling back as she grabbed onto the rope. Y/N was still clinging onto the rope when we reached the logs. Her body was shaking and trembling as she clung there. I placed a soft and gentle arm around her waist holding my own balance on the logs pulling my girl back in. 

        “I’ve got you. You're alright. Look how far you made it.” I said softly as she clung to me. “Finish the end with me?” “I’ve never made it to the end.” She said barely above a whisper. “You will be with me, let me guide you back down the bottom of the logs and I’ll have one hand on your back the whole time. Liam is already at the end.” She nodded as she started to let me guide her back to the start of the logs. “That’s it, small quick steps and there it is baby you did the logs. “Do you want to do the chimney first or me?”  I asked softly, never taking a hand off my girl's back. “Me. I’d feel better with you behind me.” I nodded as we started the ramp to the chimney. “That’s it my girl use your bottom legs more than your arms.” “That’s my girl you did it. You did the chimney and the vertical ramp. You’ve got this. I’m so proud of you; just never do this at night again promise me?” She giggled “Thank you my Gare Bear and I promise.” “Do you feel love better?” I asked once we were back on solid ground. She nodded. “I won't feel 100% about until tomorrow and I’m still alive but yes I feel less anxious about it. Thank you my Gare Bear.” 

     I chuckled as she snuggled into my side as we laid in my bed. “You know you never have to thank me Mo ghràdh. I love you and I just want you to feel safe and comfortable.” “I love you to; so much, Garrick. Promise me something?” I chuckled, “Anything.” “Promise you’ll be waiting for me at the other side of the gauntlet tomorrow?”  “I promise; I’ll be right there baby girl; you’ll be right in my arms when you're done, and I’ll carry you back to my room and we can celebrate.” “Promise?” My girl said with a twinkle in her eye. I chuckled again “I promise we will be right here tomorrow night. I love you. Good night my little one, you need your beauty rest.” I wrapped my arms around her tightly as she snuggled into more; “Good night my Gare Bear. I love you. Always.” 

[strangebiology]

Free Resources I Made for Nonfiction Book Writers - $$$

If you're writing a nonfiction, non-memoir book, you're welcome to join my free monthly video chat group Authors of Nonfiction Books in Progress (ANBIP.) If you join you'll get the recap emails and the invites to meetings, but if you don't like meetings, then just enjoy the emails. Note that it's sort of a professional group so we talk about book writing as more of a job than some universal higher calling or whatever.

Through that, I've had a few people ask me for some of the following documents in this journey, so I decided, why not just make a copy for sharing so that anyone can find them, instead of just people who email me? Feel free to use these as samples, share them, whatever. But first:

What I wish I had known before the book: While I'm here, before you start your book proposal, I learned too late that you can get paid $80,000 to write one at a journalism fellowship! People do that at the Knight Science Journalism Fellowship, The Scripps Fellowship at the Center for Environmental Journalism, and probably the other Knight Journalism fellowships that I haven't looked into. So, keep your ears open for fellowships if you're thinking of starting a nonfiction book proposal.

To the resources...

Results from my agent search Note: most people suggest Publisher's Marketplace, so, even though I didn't like my results from looking there, there is surely a reason everyone else does.

My Book Proposal & how I contacted the agent Result: contract with MIT Press to write a book about dead animals and $50,000 advance.

My Proposal for the Sloan Grant Result: I got $56,053 for the book Carcass. Also, at least two other people in my group got the grant, and one mentioned that she never would have known about it if it weren't for ANBIP, nor would she have applied!

List of suggested grants to apply to Note: most of these book grants--and most legit ones in the world--require a traditional contract. I find a lot of "prizes" for people without trad contracts are not grants at all, but an effort to get you to think you "won" what is, in effect, a contract. That's fine if the contract is fine, but don't let them stroke your ego with the words "you won" if you think you could get a better contract elsewhere. A grant is more like free money.

I also got $500 and some free resources--and miiiiight get some more money in the future?--from a program called Investing in Wyoming's Creative Economy, so, maybe your state has something similar. IWCE is brand new (started in 2023) so we'll see if it even continues on. MANY funding opportunities only exist for a few years before they run out.

My contract with my fact-checker

How I found Science Advisors & how I described their task Note: I really just made this up, as with the contract with the fact-checker. I'm just some person and I'm only giving these to you because I couldn't find anyone else's that may have been done better! Make a copy, read through it carefully, and make all the changes you need to yours. Or if you already have a better one to look to, send it to me and LMK if I can send it to my colleagues at ANBIP!

Spreadsheet National Park Artists in Residences Applications Note: I have never got any of these, and most don't pay or work well for writers, TBH. But I know a science writer who did get one. Also, I only included the ones I liked in this spreadsheet and left out the historic parks. Here's a map of more and the National Park Arts Foundation. I only apply to free ones because I noticed that one residency said they got 800 applications and the fee was $120, which, mathematically, is like paying $96,000 to do it (and that one paid $4,000 to the winner.) Also: state parks and BLM land have Artist in Residence programs!

Copy of #PublishingPaidMe spreadsheet (I didn't make this, and I don't recommend making graphics or pivot tables from this as some of the numbers are def wrong)

Book Progress thermometer

That's all for now! If you found this helpful, just pay it forward by being open with your experience for the next people who ask you.

PS. My next task is finding events to hire me to do talks about the topic of my book, which is dead animals. I know some authors make plenty of money on speaker fees after their book is launched! But I'm struggling to find events/places to speak because I mostly only want to go places where I am paid, but I also worry about a conflict of interest if I'm paid by organizations I've covered--or even, orgs that promote or protest anything that I've covered in general! I don't want to be a PETA-funded journalist or a Safari Club International-funded journalist either. If you have experience with setting up a book tour where you profited financially and were journalistically clear, I'd love to hear your story!