#this is my second halo and I am still FREAKING OUT

[aetherphobia]

Picture this, you just joined a discord call with two of your besties. You decide to casually play royale high to send eachother gifts and run around aimlessly and whatnot. You go out into the front of the castle with one of your friends and you jokingly chase eachother around because of an inside joke between the two of you.

And then, as a joke, you pull out a hammer and ironically start violently hitting the fountain lady with a hammer to "intimidate her into giving you a halo."

You have a good laugh and then actually do the fountain. You look through the fountain answer sheet and pick the correct answer for the frozen wings story (A). You skip through the dialog because nothing interesting ever comes from this part and you just graze through it. And then you see the final word in the story. And then this happens.

So now you are absolutely SCREAMING ON VC and even crying a little bit. And the moral of the story is that apparently, physically assaulting the fountain lady with hammers is an effective halo strategy. Thank you and goodnight.

[giuseppe-yuki]

naps

lando norris x ferret shapeshifter!reader

w.c.: 2.2k

warnings: none :)

part of my shapeshifting!reader series

summary: lando's late night streaming causes you to be real tired the next day...

picture credits from pinterest :)

it was currently three freaking AM in your monaco apartment, but your boyfriend was not where he was supposed to be. instead of being curled up next to you in your ridiculously big bed buried under at least five layers of blankets with the ac blasting, he was in his streaming room yelling about “cream coming out of his chick” to angryginge (you supposed he was playing fortnite, and not some other weird game). for the second time in the last five minutes, his voice echoes across the spacious apartment. 

“YOU TWAT, GET OUT MY WAY!” 

it wouldn’t be surprising if you woke up in the morning with noise complaints from the neighbors, a sleep deprived lando, and a telling-off by your boyfriend’s pr manager for showing up to media day halfway-asleep. you were super tired as well, but lando seemed to unknowingly choose the second that your eyes fluttered shut to yell at the top of his lungs. rubbing your eyes, you get up from the bed, slide on your slippers, and shove your phone into your pj shorts’ built in pocket. 

as you shuffle closer to lando’s streaming room, his voice gets impossibly louder. 

“HE’S OVER THERE!! THAT WAY!!”

you think you can hear angryginge’s voice through the door from lando’s gaming headphones, which are probably turned up way too loud. 

“WHERE??? WHERE IS THERE MATE??” 

you roll your eyes, and get ready to turn the doorknob to storm into the room, but decide at the last second that it’s probably not a good idea. the creased pjs from rolling around the bed while waiting for lando to end stream plus your worn-out slippers probably made you look like a mess. thinking, you come up with a quick solution. you could crawl into the room in your ferret form- it was probably easier to enter the room without being spotted by fans on the stream and you also get extra cuteness points that would help you convince lando to come to bed. 

you crack open the lando’s streaming door for easier access and place your phone on the ground to avoid getting squished (you knew that from experiences after being squashed one too many times by your phone). after shifting into your ferret form, you slip through the crack in the door and scamper towards lando. 

the screen in front of him acts like the only light source in the room, aside from the led sign on his wall. it casts a glowy halo of light on him in the darkness of the room that makes him look ethereal. you stop in your tracks for just a moment to admire him, except the moment is immediately ruined when a shrill scream erupts from his mouth- this time cursing an opponent for killing him. it was a wonder that your eardrums hadn’t exploded yet. 

you climb up his chair and plop yourself in his lap, glaring at him with your tiny round eyes. 

noticing your presence on his lap, his eyes widen. he immediately whispers a hurried “one moment!” to ginge and his stream, and turns off his camera and microphone. 

“baby! are you okay? what’s wrong?” he asks, using one hand to stroke your fur.

the calm voice that lando was talking to you now was vastly different from the wild, screaming side of him that he showed his twitch chat. you reach your paws outward, as if beckoning for a hug. he complies, softly squeezing you into his chest and smothering you in his quadrant hoodie that just smelled like him. after years of dating him, you still got giggly after he gave you the best hugs ever. it makes you feel so content that you almost forget your mission of dragging him back to bed. quickly, you jump off of his lap and land with your four feet on the ground. lando turns his gaming chair towards you, this time to find you standing there, still in your wrinkled pjs, with a frown on your face. 

“lando,” you say slowly, “you promised you would go to bed soon! i waited at least two hours in bed! not only that, you were yelling so loud, i bet even charles could hear you from two blocks down! besides, you do have media day tomorrow, and we all know your pr manager is going to be pissed if you show up with no energy like last time!”

glancing at the clock, he realized that you were right. it was pretty late. 

he runs his hand through his rowdy curls, and flashes you an apologetic smile. “i’m sorry, i genuinely forgot about the time,” he explains. “let me shut down everything really quick.”

under your watchful eye, he apologizes for the sudden end to stream, says bye to ginge, and shuts down his pc and and monitors. you’re still frowning when he finally turns back towards you. 

“come on baby, i said i was sorry!” he exclaims, pouting. then, a grin flashes across his face. “why don’t i carry you back to bed?” 

to that, you finally crack a smile. 

once he carries your squealing body back into the bedroom, you find yourself again alone on your bed waiting for lando. he was probably washing his face and brushing his teeth, judging from the sound of running water. you pull out your phone to find to find a text from lance stroll’s girlfriend, a good friend that you made when you attended one of your first races back then as lando’s partner. 

hey, what r u doing up? i saw your online bubble on tiktok like two seconds ago, lmao! u do know we have media day tomorrow right?

you quickly text back a response, 

i was gonna go to bed early but lando was streaming and forgot about the time.. you know i can’t sleep when he's yelling at the top of his lungs. anyways, what are you doing up at this godforsaken hour???

you adjust the blankets around you, and listen as lando hums a tune from inside the bathroom. when you check your phone, you see that she has already texted you back. 

yeah girl, i get you. lance always starts raging at his monitor when he plays his video games 🙄 no but i was up because my bf was literally online shopping till like five minutes ago! like, what are you buying that is so important it needs to be bought now?? its almost four am, istg we are going to be so sleepy in the paddock tomorrow!

the sound of lando shutting the door of the bathroom makes you hurry to type back a response.

omg, maybe he’s buying you that limited edition birkin you told me you were eyeing a couple of days ago! but yeah, we should get to bed. goodnight!

after hitting send, you shut off your phone and throw it onto the nightstand just as lando climbs into bed, now dressed in a worn-in tee that looks like its seen better days and comfy pj pants. He turns off the light using the switch next to him, and places a kiss on your forehead. “goodnight!” he whispers quietly into your ear. you turn around and hold him close to you, burying your head into his chest yet again. “goodnight,” you whisper back. 

if you closed your eyes for more than two seconds, you felt like you were going to fall asleep. the sun shined brightly in the monaco paddock, but it just felt like it was hurting your eyeballs on purpose as it pierced through your shaded sunglasses perched on the bridge of your nose. honestly, you didn’t know how lando did it. he looked energized and ready to go with his freshly moussed curls and bright smile, not a hint of tiredness on his face. it seemed you looked as tired as you felt, because as you walked through the paddock, not only did max offer you a redbull, but charles also tried giving you a celsius, much to the dismay of lando (he not-so-gently slapped the drinks out of their hands, as mclaren was sponsored by monster, and he did not want to cause a pr disaster). 

you stumble into the mclaren hospitality five minutes later, clutching to lando’s arm for dear life. laughing, he starts dragging you to his driver’s room, which had a comfy sofa that you could probably nap for a bit on. 

before he could get too far, oscar passes by, casting a few concerning glances at your exhausted figure shuffling behind lando. 

“err, is your girlfriend alright, mate?” he shoots at lando, eyebrows scrunched in confusion.

you answer for your boyfriend. “yeah, yeah, i’m fine, thanks for asking. it’s just that lando was streaming until like, three am last night, and so i didn’t get a wink of sleep before having to wake up and get ready!” 

oscar’s face morphs into one of amusement. “lando! how could you do that to her?” he gasps dramatically in a joking manner. he then flashes you a smile. “i’m just making sure you’re all good. honestly, if you didn’t tell me that lando was streaming though, i would have assumed it was because you guys were getting  𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 last night or something.”

both you and lando’s mouths drop open. “oscar!” you exclaim, as lando throws a nearby empty cup at oscar’s head. 

oscar expertly dodges the cup and cackles and he runs away. 

lando quickly guides you to his drives room, and makes sure to get you a can of monster, which you crack open and take a sip of before promptly passing out cold on the couch. 

you open your eyes an hour and a half later, to lando softly shaking you. 

“yes?” you say, rubbing your sleepy eyes. 

“so, my pr manager wants me to head out now for the pr videos and interviews. i just wanted to let you know,” he explains.

you grab you bag and stand up quickly, intending to follow lando out the door. you didn’t come all the way to the paddock to sleep in lando’s drivers room- you were here to support your boyfriend, even if he was just recording boring videos for the team youtube channel or talking to a reporter about past race results. 

“what are you doing?” lando says, brows scrunching. “i thought you were tired? you don’t have to go with me to media day?” 

“no, i want to be out there to support you,” you counter, “besides, i can sleep later.” you let out a big yawn that kind of destroys your argument. 

lando laughs, seeing you yawn. “i can tell you are still sleepy…continue your nap, it’s okay! there will always be another media day you can come support me at!”

adamant, you shake your head. “no, i’d really like to come with you.”

your boyfriend thinks for a second, blinking his aquamarine eyes at you. “why dont…you shift into your ferret form and sleep in my hoodie? that way you can still take your nap and be there supporting me- but more like emotional support.” 

you nod once. “deal!”

that’s how you find yourself buried inside lando’s quadrant hoodie pocket as he walks through the paddock. you feel each jostle of his body as he walks through the paddock. his fingers toy with your fur mindlessly. you smell the comforting scent of his cologne mixed with the slight scent of burnt rubber and oil of the circut. you surprising stay awake as he babbles on to a reporter about the updates on the car over the weekend or when he is quizzed on his top three favorite foods with oscar. it’s only when he sits down and is forced to sign a hundred fan merch when you finally fall into beauty sleep.

“OMG OSCAR???” screams lando, jolting you from deep sleep and almost deafening you. why is that lando always manages to disrupt your sleep because of his screaming problem?

you hear lando’s voice above you again. “oscar, i genuinely think i lost my girlfriend! i don’t know where she is! i checked my driver’s room and literally the entire paddock, but i can’t find her!” he says, worriedly.

is this guy serious? you think, bewildered. how can he possibly drive one of the fastest cars in the world but not remember that he put his own girlfriend in his pocket before media and pr? you think its probably because the lack of sleep was catching up to him. 

you are jostled around more forcefully in his pocket as he starts what you think is sprinting around the paddock. 

you hear oscar next to your boyfriend, running next to him. “well, i have no idea where she is either?? the last time i remember seeing her was in the motorhome where you were dragging her to your driver’s room?” 

hearing this, lando skids to a stop. “OMG WAIT?!” he shouts. you feel his hand reach into his hoodie pocket next to you. 

before his hand can touch you though, you stick your head out of the pocket and lando, who has relief written all over his face. you snap your teeth towards lando’s outstretched fingers that were starting to reach for you. 

oscar shoots an exasperated look at lando. “mate, you had me sprinting around the whole paddock. no way you forgot your freaking girlfriend was literally in your pocket.”

taglist: @ilivbullyingjeongin @ale-522 @formula1-motogpfan @aceyalonso @my0hmary

@mbappebby @rakshatos @heartsforleclerc @papaya-twinks @madkohi

[cosmiischillin]

I am alittle bored so hey! Here are some Fun Facts/Headcanons for the characters in Twilight Town (Reminder: Twilight Town is takes place in a rebooted version of the Ruby Gloom cartoon where they’re all adults)

1. Iris is the youngest of the main 8 with Ruby being a few months older. Frank is considered the oldest being a second older than his twin Len. (Halo would have been oldest overall at 2100 but I decided to only portray her as 21)

2. Misery is a native Irish speaker though she can speak several other languages thanks to her family tree including Latin, Chinese, French, and Swedish.

3. When Skull was 13, he tried to change his name to Skull Guy but literally no one liked it so he dropped the second part of his name. Misery, Frank, and Len still call him Skull Boy from time to time to tease him since they’re older than him.

4. Ruby’s middle name is Lily which I got from Lily Munster.

5. Frank is actually Frank II. His father, Frank Frankenstein is the first. In fact. My friend said the twins names together sounded like Frankenstein (Frank) L(eN) Stein.

6. Both Frank and Len have separation anxiety due to how long they’ve been conjoined. If not near by each other for long periods of time, they get anxious and tend to lash out more.

7. Jackie was my first ever OC for anything and back then her name was Lantern. She was never gonna be shipped with anyone until recently where she’s with Len.

8. Misery has the highest kill count of the group at 666 via natural disasters and freak accidents. Frank and Len are in second place with 25 kills and will resort to eating humans to get rid of evidence.

9. Skull has never killed someone but he is capable of it as he took up marksmanship as one of his 100+ hobbies.

10. Ruby’s more monstrous side is based on Other Mother from Coraline, Nightmarionne from FNAF, Eltrich and Lovecraftian monsters, Raggedy Ann, and Wally Darling from Welcome Home!

[mythicaldemigoddess-of-deltarune]

Earth Angel In Wing & Sweater-Town (2024)

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

Credit for Transformers goes to Hasbro

Credit for Steven Universe goes to Rebecca Sugar

Credit for Undertale goes to Toby Fox

Credit for Hazbin Hotel goes to VivziePop

Credit for Red Vs Blue Series goes to Burnie Burns & Rooster Teeth

Credit for Halo Game Series goes to Bungie

Credit for Buzz Lightyear Of Star Command goes to Disney

----

in case some might not be able to read the words very well, I think clicking on the drawing to make it bigger might help...I'm saying this before I post this, in case it might not be big enough to read the words unless one clicks on it...

I also decided use the angelsona tag for this, because technically the Earth Angel in the drawing is suppose to be me, in both wing and sweater town.

I would of posted this on January 6, 2024….the day I drew it, but there was a bit of a problem with Tumblr it would appear…which the info about it says it was being worked on and trying to fix it.

I was feeling a bit in a sad mood some hours ago on January 6th, before I drew this drawing on the same day, but maybe I can talk about it another time.

and while I did check once more, a few minutes later…it appeared that Tumblr was back to normal again, but I decided to wait until January 7, 2024 to post this.

also there can be different reasons why some Humans and Humans who are Earth Angels, to fall under the 8th Sin…some of them being because of Other Humans and Eon-Boomer Angels/Fallen Angels. and even if I know I don't really have the power to, but if I had lost my second cat because they weren't taking to the vet on time or those who work at the vet messed up and I lost my fluffy baby because of it…

I would cause Omnigeddon…also my day was doing a little okay on January 6, 2024 and I had plan to play some video games as well, but then something had to put me in a not so great mood and so I had to go to bed to sleep it off…

well at least some other stuff that happen later after what put me in a poor mood, end up making me feel a little more better. and yeah, the one who is hiding in both wing & sweater town is suppose to be me…

ya can't really see me, only know that I'm hiding behind energy wings and a sweater because the drawing is suppose to match how I was feeling because of some some humans…

I think sleeping the 8th Sin off helped a bit, well that and some stuff that ended up making me feel better…at least I watched a few episodes of Ah My Goddess and some episodes of Sailor Moon before that thing that I saw that put me in a gloomy mood.

Alastor being able to use Earth Angel Magic, does seem like a interesting idea…the idea is that he uses the pendulum to find where I am, which is in wing & sweater town.

and I guess if I had to talk little bit of what made me feel unhappy and think as well feel like I'm under the 8th Sin during that time, it has to do with that bad mouthing about Alastor… hopefully things will work out….

and ya know, it be interesting if he could use a pendulum even in ways I may not be able to, even though it did freak me out at first when I was holding a pendulum for the first time and it started to move around like crazy…

the chance of Alastor also being RH Negative, is perhaps very VERY small…but I'm going to view him as being RH Negative in the Fanon… speaking of that, I am going to at least try to see if I can at long last, get to the whole checking my blood type again…and yeah I get your blood type is with you for the rest of your life.

but I guess it's freaky to have O RH D Negative Blood, and your own Mom has O RH Negative Blood, but where did the "D" part come from…?

and yeah I'm weird, one of my weird thoughts is that I don't want Jesus, Antichrist, and Archangel Samael to harm Mother than she was already…

and by "Mother" I mean the Omni-Mom, and by that I mean the Goddess. I can still believe in Jesus, but if he is a part of that mess along with Archangel Samael…

well I'm not going to agree with it, and he still needs to be saved from himself if some stuff I read that has to do with him turn out to be true.

also no one is gonna change my mind about believing in both God and Goddess, not even that Toxic-Religious jerk who should of just shut up when I pointed out how bad that they were making me feel. hopefully they aren't doing that to more people.

I'm going to hope other Earth Angels finally wake up to the truth, but it should be of their own free will. but in case not all Earth Angels wake up to the truth, I might as well go solo until more Earth Angels finally wake up to the truth.

even if things are a bit more better for most women and girls (even if it isn't at 100% and is likely around 99% or 98% or maybe around 95%)

but we still need to finally see that one of the problems…is that Omni-Mom was harmed as well as the Divine Feminine energy, and it took probably a super long time for her to get a bit more better.

I think when I can, I will do another drawing ship of Wasp x Lazuli (from Transformers Animated & Steven Universe), and another Mamtella drawing (Mammon x Stella's ship name), that ship name still seems like some kind of food ya eat.

even just talking/writing about that ship name Mamtella, it made me hungry…I can't help that their ship name reminds me of food. XD well me being my weird self is better than being gloomy and possibly going all 8th Sin at times…I could make a list as to what causes me to become under the influence of 8th Sin…

and once again the whole "Eveningstar" has to do with the weird thing with my Mom, and how she NEVER got Morning sickness with me, but instead got Evening sickness.

I rather be called a purple blood than a blue blood, cause at times blue blood can mean another thing…some might know very well if they had looked it up before.

so I'm glad that only some of my Ancestors were Royals and some weren't, I wouldn't be a purple blood if it weren't for both my royal and non-royal ancestors. :D

I'm a Weird Earth Angel Princess, even if I don't work 100% like Other Earth Angels and I know I'm a Defective Earth Angel.

anyway, I had to draw how I was feeling, like the feeling of wanting to go to both wing and sweater town and not come out of wing and sweater town for a while…or it could be called wing-sweater town…

and yes, I know that Flowey has pink eyes in this, it was on purpose. Sari is holding Andy from Red Vs Blue, and right next to her is Tucker's Son, who could have small bits of Human DNA even if he doesn't appear Human at all.

both Andy and Sari are right about Humans, some of them are Shisno but some of them aren't and don't act like a bunch of Shisno…

so in other words, for the Humans who don't act like a Shisno and aren't Shisno at all, it means there is still hope for Humans.

and hopefully some humans will try not to act like they are better than some who have a biracial or multiracial heritage, even if not all humans are like that…

but ya know it is still possible some are still out there, and are gonna insult some other humans and even humans who are earth angels who have a biracial or multiracial heritage.

and even if some humans don't mean to come off like it, like those who really mean it, they might not fully understand that they could insult and bring about not so great feelings to some.

I also think that even if I try to explain about it, it is likely my words will be misinterpreted…..

it wouldn't be the first time, though at least half of the time my words got misinterpreted, it wouldn't be as bad and I might be able to explain a bit better than how it first came out, so in other words some small misunderstandings are fine so long as they don't end up hurting someone's feelings in a very bad way.

but I know it is possible even if I try not to let some of my words get misinterpreted, it doesn't mean it wont still happen at times and the times that it does, there will be a chance my feelings will get hurt as well.

and yeah, it might be best that I don't get too into the whole why some are hating on Alastor, but I'm going to still hope that things work out the right way and he appears in many future episodes, well the future episodes he will appear in.

I know that in some shows, even some characters who are part of the main characters, will at times not appear in a episode but will in the next.

one of Alastor's powers is Radio Manipulation, and from the powerlisting fandom, there is a list of names that show what it is also called by…

like Radiofonokinesis, Radio Distortion, Radio Wave Manipulation/Control, Radio Frequency Manipulation/Control and just Radio Control.

even if I had that weird thing happen with one of the radios we have, which by the way I think it might only happen once in a while with me, so that might be a good thing.

and one of the other powers that Alastor has is being able to use tendrils, which is also listed in Darkness Manipulation, of course it says Applications and it has Darkness Solidification.

there is also something that says manipulate the properties of darkness/shadow.

and we could view in the episode Alastor first appears in, he was using both Radiofonokinesis and Umbrakinesis, which one of the other names of Darkness Manipulation would be Shadow Control/Manipulation, Erebokinesis, Dark Control/Manipulation, Sciakinesis and Achluokinesis and yeah also the Umbrakinesis.

and for all we know, the reason he could be so powerful is because in his human life, he was of the Nephilim Bloodline, even if not being a full Nephilim, but there are some Earth Angels who do come from the Nephilim Bloodline.

not like we can help that, we aren't our Nephilim Ancestors. and calling us (by me and others) who have RH Negative blood, and who have Nephilim Ancestors as just as evil and bad as them, is a foolish thing.

plus I can't help but wonder if Earth has been through a loop many times before, which has to do with what those Eon-Boomers and the harm it causes Omni-Mom.

like the whole "End of The World" may have happen many MANY like a lot of times before, and each time the Earth would go through a type of "rebirth" and go back to how it was before that mess happen. well hopefully that isn't true, well unless it happen in another timeline and we live in a new alternate branch of it…

I like this drawing, it might of help a bit more to get some feelings out, and yeah as weird as it might be, in the drawing, Alastor is using the pendulum to track and find a Earth Angel, which in Fanon (and Noncanon) could be seen as one of his abilities.

and even if it isn't a official title, I'm still gonna call myself The Embodiment of Weirdness. XD

well me being weird and silly is better than when I feel unhappy.

and I'm glad I feel better from how I felt yesterday, it sucked feeling like that...which I think when you have days when you feel a bit melancholy, that could be the 8th Sin for all we know...

and the best thing I think I can do when I get like that, is if maybe try to either sleep it off or maybe do some other stuff, like watching a movie or a show I like, or reading.

plus maybe gems can help with the feelings of melancholy, like you could feel that way at times but certain gems help heal it.

of course not everyone has to be open about the healing properties of gems. and I'm still keeping my gem bracelets on for the multi-purpose I use them for and only take them off when I truly need to.

I think the 8th Sin who is like the Embodiment of Melancholy, and the 8th Ring, would likely be Fanon and Not Canon in Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss.

so the 8th Ring and Embodiment Of Melancholy would be in like a Fanon AU version of the two shows.

Embodiment Of Melancholy, probably needs a nice and fluffy blanket around them, some comfort food, a nice movie to watch and if they want and give permission for it, a nice comforting hug.

even if I don't like to be touched sometimes, I don't mind getting a hug if that is truly what I want.

sometimes surprise hugs where I'm hug from behind, would likely startle me and I might not like it very much...even if some might not truly get why I might not like it but maybe some might get it if they feel the same about certain surprise hugs.

I think it was around last year/2023 or maybe it was 2022, that had one of my family members startle me when they hug me from behind...

anyway my angelsona in this drawing, mentioning about being under the 8th Sin's influence, just seem to fit because well I was feeling not great before but I think sleeping off and waking up to some stuff that made me a bit happy, may have helped.

anyway I hope some like this drawing, and understand why I put my angelsona self in wing-sweater town, because it was to express how I was feeling.

and yeah even if it isn't canon to Alastor's powers, I like the idea about him using Earth Angel Magic in the Fanon.

Viva La Weirdness, The Embodiment Of Weirdness Era! XD

[greentrickster]

@caspertheloudassghost SY will immediately flip out upon learning that LBH’s protagonist halo is gone. Do the shizuns ever find out what is happening?

On the one hand, yes, correct, because not only is Binghe just objectively supposed to be the world's specialist boy (Shen Yuan's being so incredibly objective here), the only reason Binghe's survived half the stuff he's been through is because of that protagonist halo! Are you trying to kill off this master's husband you hack author, ah?!?

He calms down a lot when he learns that, while Binghe will be more susceptible to danger and screw-ups with the halo gone, the number of situations where he needs the halo to survive will also decrease a good 99%, as will the majority of the Wife Plots.

For their part, the shizuns get to watch from Heaven when they feel like it, and have been doing so since they ascended, with an understandable amount of tsking and head-shaking as they watched the inheriting generation continue to be a hot mess. Which leads to an impressive amount of both tea and vinegar being drunk when freaking Shen Qingqiu steps up to the plate to help save the world through an act of selflessness and ascends to a position of extreme respect among the Heavenly Officials as a result.

@caspertheloudassghost I love thé comparison of all heavenly officials being teenagers home alone. How do the kids feel about their dad essentially going on vacay and returning with a demonic step dad? (He’s younger than the youngest one here?!)

Yay, glad you like it! ^U^ It's not a perfect metaphor, because the Officials were created by Airplane, but they aren't exactly his children. It's an odd combo of boss/older cousin/friend/editor relationships all sort of rolled up into one. Airplane didn't make them with kids in mind because he didn't want beings to care for, he wanted beings that could help him (and maybe dote on him a little), so while they accurately view him as their creator, they don't actually see him as a father figure. It's a weird

The whole teenager-parent metaphor comes into play because, as mentioned, Airplane did end up making his original assistants rather clingy. Which, frankly, he enjoyed for a very long time, and still does to a certain extent. A few thousand years in, though, he realized that maybe it wasn't fully fair to his assistants to have made them like that, and he started taking steps to help them grow a little healthier and more balanced in their attachment to him. He's always going to have a close relationship with this particular group of beings, there are strong familial feelings there, but Airplane grew enough as a person to not only feel comfortable with them growing to be more than what he made them to be, but wanting that for them as well.

As for how the Officials react to Mobei-jun... let's be real.

Airplane never stopped writing new stories, even as he was making the SVSSS world, he's a writer, it's how we are, trust me, I'm approaching the five-year mark for how long I've been writing and posting my second mega!fic but here I am, noodling around in the SVSSS universe anyway, can't stop won't stop bro bro fight the power-!!!

Ahem.

Anyway, point is, he's been writing all this time, he's only gotten more self-indulgent over the years, the Officials have read his work, they know what his taste in men is like, heck, the Official currently crying into Shang Qinghua's ankles is named 'Jin Hengfu,' spelled 金恒芙, (Golden Persistent Lotus (assuming I did this right and didn't just break a bunch of Chinese name rules (this is my first time trying to make an SVSSS-style name)) because he was originally created literally just to sit around and look pretty (because listen. Listen. Sometimes a hamster has needs and those needs involve just watching a beautiful man exist. Beautifully.), and while he does do more than that these days* he is also a very clear indication of what kind of God they were created by.

An extremely thirsty one.

They all knew it was only a matter of time before Airplane found someone to fall head over heels for, they know exactly what Airplane's tastes are, and at the very least Mobei-jun is properly appreciative of his Excellency-ge's good points!

(Honestly, if anything's mortifying about this whole situation for them, it's that Airplane as Shang Qinghua didn't remember or research anything he'd formerly written about demonic courting techniques, once they're all finished dying of second-hand embarrassment over him fumbling that one so hard they're going to be using that one against him for millennia.)

*Jin Hengfu's current job description includes running messages for the other Officials and wrangling Airplane when necessary (because he's too pretty and sweet to stay mad at for long) and hence why he's the one down here at the moment, and also to just be extremely pretty (because it is what he was made for and he's extremely good at it).

(As for the PIDW part of your question, I'll answer that in another post at some point, so this thread doesn't get too convoluted.)

@caspertheloudassghost In this universe the old peak lords all ascended right? I imagine the only reason SQH’s vacation lasted this long was due to his officials, finally giving up on understanding SQH’s organized chaos, desperately try to get his Shizun to decode it to not ruin SQH’s first vacation in two millennia. “You re-raised him right? You should know his filing system right? Right?!” (His filing system is entirely based around a version of Microsoft excel that only he can run. He knew this when he left)

XD XD XD Okay, canon on the Microsoft excel idea! But, unfortunately for the Heavenly Officials, they were not brought into being by a particularly lawful god. Meaning that, while they know that their Lord is incarnated somewhere in the world... they have no idea who, where, or even exactly why, because he told them exactly None Of That, specifically so they couldn't interfere.

Not even because they're busybodies or obnoxious coworkers, but because the Heavenly Officials are the original assistants that Airplane made for himself in this world once it got more complicated than he wanted to deal with on his own. As a result, while they're quite good at their jobs (and can manage a very respectable amount of Heaven's filing, just not anything in Airplane's personal system) and very pleasing to look at, they're also a bit clingy. Because they were made by a lonely young man who was mostly ignored by everyone around him in his first life, so who can blame him for wanting to be around people who also wanted to be around him?

Thinking about it, in a way this trip to the mortal world to be Shang Qinghua was probably at least partially for the sake of these original, highest-ranked Heavenly Officials alongside Airplane wanting to take a vacation and experience the Plot firsthand. The celestial equivalent of parents leaving their older kids in charge of the younger kids, the pets, and the house for a week while they go off on a vacation or business trip or what-have-you. A chance to test themselves a little without the person/people in charge on hand, to grow as an individual and an adult. And the Heavenly Official coming down to beg Airplane for help was the equivalent of said teens having to phone their parents five days in because the dog got into something it probably shouldn't have, and it'll probably be fine, but there is also the sudden and very real fear of "Oh gods, what if we accidentally kill the dog?" Basically a chance for them to exert some independence and grow on their own for a little, with an unexpected 'I need an adultier adult' situation popping up a decent way in.

As for SQH's ascended master, you're right, he would probably have been able to help with the filing system at least a little... if anyone had thought to show it to him. As it was, cultivators have been ascending for centuries, the Heavenly Officials have no reason to believe that this latest batch from Cang Qiong know anything more about their vacationing boss than any other human. Heck, the only reason Shang Qinghua gets found is because Shen Qingqiu sees some notes in pinyin during his ten-year check-in as to how he's settling into his new role of God of the Ninth Road (full AU here if you haven't tripped over that segment yet), and he comments on it (on the grounds that he'd been under the impression that it was just some made-up writing system his shidi had invented).

In an amusing twist, the issue that necessitated the Heavenly Officials to crack and call upon Airplane for help? Turning off Binghe's Protagonist Halo. Because the 'story' is over now, so no need for a protagonist, and it's not going to particularly nerf him or anything, just make him less center-of-attention-the-world-literally-revolves-around-me. Long term it's even going to be a good thing, because it'll allow Binghe and Shen Yuan to settle into a life together without having to deal with a new Plot Arc starting every month or two. It's for the best for everyone.

Except all the upper Officials have been through everything over a dozen times, and no one can figure out how to make it stop, Airplane left at least some instructions before he left and all the signs point to it being time to turn off the halo and he forgot to include instructions on how to do that, please don't leave out key information, your excellency-!!!

[madhatterbri]

Happy Halloween | C.B.

Props to the creator of this gif. May you get many candy on Halloween. ❤️

Summary: Nate Archibald is worried about his sister going out on Halloween. He should be more worried about her staying in.

Rhea's phone had been buzzing all morning with texts from her brother. Once she started ignoring the texts, he started to call her. He would often leave voice-mails. They were pleasant at first until he realized she was ignoring him. He insisted she called him back to discuss her plans for Halloween.

Finally, after fifty text messages and about thirty calls, she caved in. She hoped a thirty second phone call would ease his troubled mind.

"I'm not going to get into any trouble, brother. I promise," Rhea sighed for the hundredth time. She spun around while admiring herself in the mirror. Her light brown hair rested on her back. A halo hung above her head. White lingerie to resemble an angel covered her frame. "Besides, my plans have changed. I am not going out tonight. I'm staying in,"

"Oh," Nate spoke over the phone. Rhea could feel the relief wash over him. He cleared his throat. "I was just worried because Carter was back in town and-"

"Really? I hadn't heard. Gossip Girl doesn't matter in university," she assured him. It wasn't a lie. Gossip Girl didn't matter to her university. Students came from different parts of the world and most of them didn't know about Gossip Girl. "Besides, I have a major test in the morning. So if you could relax, I need to get back to studying,"

"Okay, I'm sorry for freaking out. Dad is gone and I am just making sure you and mom are okay," he apologized. Rhea felt slightly guilty. Nate was a pain in the ass but he wasn't all bad. He always made sure his family was well taken care of.

"Nate?"

"Yeah?"

"You are going to age horribly if you keep worrying," she joked. "Remember whag mom always said," Nate chuckled.

Her front door opening and closing reminded her that she needed to end this conversation. Nate could not hear the person that entered her apartment. This phone call would last a lot longer if she could hear.

"I'll talk to you later. Let's catch up tomorrow after my class?" She questioned.

"Will do. Love you sis,"

Rhea was the first to hang up. Footsteps slowly approached her bedroom door. The anticipation in her stomach caused butterflies. The way he looked at her always sent her to heaven.

Carter Baizen suddenly appeared at her bedroom door. He leaned against the doorframe and watched her. He lowered his eyes and took her all in. A smirk appeared on his face.

Rhea smiled at him. A red mask covered a portion of his face. He wore a red silk shirt and black pants. He was the perfect devil.

He walked towards her. She stayed still waiting for him to examine her. He stood behind her and wrapped an arm around her. His hand ran up her body.

"Well isn't this devil lucky," he whispered around in her ear. His lips nipping at her earlobe. He gripped her chin forcing her to look at the mirror. "A fallen angel,"

[rotshop]

You’re alright! I just got a little confused so I wanted to know, I also remember you saying you have 2B as one of your favs so I didn’t know it the Deimos stuff was bothering you. (Also don’t worry about bullying Deimos, he’s my favorite which means he gets EXTRA bullying from me (especially as Dedmos)).

2b MAY be a fav of mine but any madness combat character makes the little termites in my brain go ehehhehrepeerznebxcjekdksjejxjjejejwwiwiewu /pos

ALSO you have no idea how deranged i am abt hof so!!! i apologize in advance

Hofnarr

Chances are you messed with him a little bit at first lol. You would appear in his line of sight for a few seconds before walking around a corner or doorway and disappearing. YES it was a little mean but like..cmon...it was..a little funny...anyway eventually you like. actually show yourself when he's alone working on the improbability drive. (you just kinda loomed over him and went 'Whats that?' right next to his ear just to see him jump)

At first he was. a little scared of you. Listen. Listen he is like. relatively tall. You are fucking Skyscraper height compared to him. Not to mention, you are a pitch black figure who's been haunting him for like a week now with no word and you have ZERO facial features and he was a little too focused on his work to have really caught your tone SO he has no clue what you might be like. needless to say he is batting zero.

He kind of. hesitantly and very nervously explains his project to you for. some reason. While you just sit and listen to him. You just kinda go 'Oh cool' and then stay there and watch. He's still a little unnerved but he just keeps quiet about it.

You both just kinda fall into that routine of you showing up late at night and watching him work for a while and he warms up to you pretty quickly. It isn't long before he's distracted from the drive because he's too busy rambling to you about some memory of his or some random thing he seen that day. He can't feel too guilty abt it though because he's a little too caught up by ur laugh,,it makes him feel warm,,,

also the first time it got cold and you passed The Fuck Out he almost cried. he thought you just dropped dead or dipped bc it was late at night and he couldn't see you very well in the dark. he prefers if you stay at his apartment or whatever when it gets cold so he can keep an eye on you (also because he's really scared of other scientists finding you and freaking out and hurting you)

Tricky

For him it's probably a case of either 'oh i wonder what happened to my funny little scientist friend' or 'I GOTTA know what this guys deal is' when it comes to him.

if its the first one then you might've tried to call him Hofnarr to which he did NOT respond very well. you just tried to excuse it as best as you could. you said you'd confused him for someone else which..he doubted. like. he's fucking Deranged but he knows he doesn't look like many other people cmon. BUUUTTT on the other hand you dont seem to have eyes so. yknow.

ANYWAY he's super curious about you. thought you were the auditor first and tried to attack you but it didn't work out lmao. after that though he just kind of. stares at you a lot. and also pokes and prods at you because he's curious. ALSO tries to climb you.

whenever he climbs on you you tend to have to either just kind of. let him cling to your shoulder or just hold him. he's made a grab at your halo before but you kind of. scolded him abt it and said you didn't like it. he doesn't know why but he felt really guilty abt it and actually apologized. not a super long and heartfelt apology but still an apology nevertheless

you passed out around him once and instead of waking up to chaos like you'd expected you'd just woken up and went 'oh hey. im laying on him. cool.' he'd panicked at first bc oh shit!!! friend down :(( but he just did his best to calm down and also make you comfortable while you took ur ufcking ummm surprise nap <3. even dragged some old curtain over to act as a blanketfor you while you laid ur head on his lap or stomach

you hold him like a chihuahua while he bites at your hands (endearingly, like you know how cats give love bites or whatever?? he does that to you.)

you holding tricky: Do you have a fucking problem.

hank who's been staring for like 5 minutes now because he thinks you're the auditor and hes so fucking confused:

[spacetimewraithwrites-archive]

#FridayKiss Tag Game II

Rules: post a smooch between your OCs for Friday. It can be as light as a peck or as intense as a makeout. It can be romantic or platonic or familial. As long as a smooch takes place it’s free reign!

I was tagged six hundred years ago by @zmwrites, and I’m tagging @drippingmoon, @druidx, @ashen-crest, and @drabbleitout even though it is, where I am, no longer Friday oop

I uh...I don’t yet have a lot of kisses in the series that don’t escalate hahaHA, but here’s a fun little alien-y bit from Aurora for y’all!

When the party wound down and everyone went their separate ways, Warren stumbled into the bulkhead a couple of times before he held onto Thrive on the way to their quarters.

"Are you alright?" Thrive asked him.

"Yeah." Warren laughed at himself. "Yeah, sorry. It's been a while. You're sober by now, I'm guessing."

"Just about, yes. I feel a bit inebriated still."

Warren inhaled a lungful of air through his nose and grasped Thrive's hand. "There's somethin' I've wanted to do for a really long time and I think I'm finally blasted enough to ask you."

Thrive turned to him expectantly as they reached their quarters. He peered down at Warren in amusement.

Warren rubbed his eyes and attempted to summon the courage, leaning into the wall for support. "Okay, uh...if this offends you in any way, you can just...say no. It's fine, I'm not tryin' to be labeled a screwball."

"Where is this going," Thrive asked somewhat cautiously.

"Can I…um, I've…I've always been a little curious about what it would be like…to kiss you when you're in obhelian form."

Thrive's eyebrows nearly jumped off his face in their haste to shoot closer to his hairline.

"Yeah." Warren giggled nervously. "I dunno. Is that wrong? Does that make you uncomfortable? I don't want you to think I'm like…trying to be weird about it. It's just…"

"It's a fair request," Thrive interrupted gently. "We're married, and I'm not human. It gives me great relief to know that you're not put off by my natural form, and, to be quite frank…I've hoped you would ask me this."

Warmth pooled at the bottom of Warren's stomach. "Really?"

"I didn't want to bring it up myself in case you thought it too bizarre." Thrive peered down the hall over Warren's shoulder. "I've held out hope that you would desire being physically intimate with me in any way when I'm natural. But I never should have doubted you, even for a second."

"Most people would've called me a freak and left it at that."

"I would like to make sure you're not only asking me this because you're drunk," Thrive said.

Warren shook his head. "I said it already; I've always wanted to kiss you while you're natural. I've only just now got the confidence to ask. I didn't want you to be insulted or something."

Thrive nodded, then glanced down the hall over Warren's shoulder. "Would you prefer the privacy of our quarters?"

"I mean, sure, in case this goes somewhere weird."

Thrive wordlessly ushered Warren into their quarters, locking the door behind them. The tension resulting from that action alone made Warren's heart pound hard against his ribs, doubling in speed when Thrive placed his strong hands on his hips and pulled him against his body.

Warren met him in a heated kiss, tasting the alcohol on his tongue, breath coming out ragged with each slide of Thrive's lips across his own. His knees grew weak, clutching Thrive's shoulders to hold himself upright as heat flushed into him.

Thrive nipped Warren's bottom lip before pulling his head away, fingers digging into Warren's hips as he backed him in the direction of the bed. He sat down and kept Warren standing firmly in front of him. "Ready?"

Warren nodded, brain in a haze.

The amber halo consumed Thrive, elongating his structure, stretching his hands, and he almost towered over Warren even while sitting. His eyes caught the light of the room and glittered, like billions of stars sewn into the velvety fabric of space. His face, angular and striking with shadows cutting under his cheekbones and jaw and highlighting the dimpled temples.

Warren reached a trembling hand up to Thrive's face, ghosting his fingers over his cheeks, the small bump of his otherwise flat nose, the crease of space between his eyes. He carefully cupped his jaw, smoothed his thumbs over his richly rust-colored skin. His lips were thinner than they were in human form, but they were still there, and Warren traced their shape in reverence.

Thrive's hands slid up to Warren's back, gingerly pulling him even closer. "You can still change your mind."

"No, no…god, Thrive." Warren's eyes briefly fluttered shut at the sound of his obhelian voice whispering to him. He shivered at the long hands creeping up his spine. "God, I love every one of your molecules. This"—he cradled Thrive's face again—"is literally…the most beautiful thing I have ever seen in my life."

Thrive unexpectedly lifted him from under the arms and brought him onto his lap, much thinner but just as powerful. Warren threw his arms around his neck and crushed his lips to Thrive's natural ones.

Soft leather against his still-sensitive skin. Warren groaned in surprise, overwhelmed with new tastes, new sensations, but all still very Thrive. He took in his unfiltered scent and nearly came undone right then and there, a sharp breath at the deeply concentrated transference of feelings between them. Thrive held him tight, enveloped him, leaned him forward almost parallel to the floor so he could wrap a single massive hand around his thigh.

And Warren didn't even realize for a moment that Thrive had stopped kissing him. He opened his eyes to find he was supported over the floor with a single arm under his back and the other hand at the back of his head.

"Baby steps," Thrive murmured, gazing down at Warren with soft eyes. "Was that alright?"

Warren, now numb with lust, nodded, his mind already far ahead of them. "Yeah. That…wow. I…"

"I don't have what you require in this form," Thrive said, chest rumbling against Warren's with every word. "Not physically, anyway. And judging by your dilated pupils and accelerated heart rate, I'm going to hazard a guess and say you would like to take this further."

"The fact that I'm rock hard didn't give that away?"

"I'm going to switch back—"

"No." Warren's breath came in quick, and he was a little concerned at how comfortable he found their current position. "No…stay like this."

Thrive's expression gained an abundance of interest in this development. "Ah." A slow smile cracked across his face. "...So the humans were right about you after all."

[supercorpkid]

Two Luthors are better than one.

Supercorp, Kara Danvers x Daughter!Reader, Lena Luthor x Daughter!Reader, Lillian Luthor x Granddaughter!Reader

Word count: 3100.

If you haven’t you can check out It’s you against the world first, if you would like a little bit more of context.

You wake up feeling almost too rested to be true. You get out from under your blankets, and you expect to see blood and dirt everywhere, instead you’re cleaned. You look at your clothes and you’re wearing your favorite pajamas and they smell like home. Home.

It feels like you haven’t stepped foot home in a lifetime. So much has happened. So much pain and sorrow have taken over you and your family. You sit back on your bed, looking around. Can you even call this home if Lena is not in it?

You have slept too long. You don’t know how many hours you’ve slept, but that doesn’t matter. Five minutes would’ve been too long.

A small part of you believes Kara. Sure, it wasn’t all your fault. How could’ve been, right? How could you have been everywhere at the same time? How could you have gone for Lena when Kara’s location was right there? Still. Still-

You feel like an exposed wound waiting for something – no, not something, Lena – to care for it. To patch it up with an assertive and unquestioning ‘this isn’t your fault’.

“Momma.” You call and it doesn’t take long for you to see Kara’s face poking at your door. “How am I clean?”

“Oh.” Kara gives you a soft smile, walking in your bedroom. “You passed out from exhaustion before we got home. So, I had to give you a shower, and food while you were sleeping.”

“What?” You furrow your brows, confused. “I can eat while I sleep?”

“Apparently.” Kara agrees with her head and touches your face with a big smile. “It’s good to see your pretty face again. You were looking really, what’s the word? Dead.”

“I think I was dead for a minute before you saved me.” You exhale, finally realizing you are glad to be alive. “Thank you.”

You throw yourself in her arms and Kara catches you, giving you a little kiss on the head, then puts her cheek on top of your head, while stroking your back lightly.

“My baby.” Kara’s voice is so full of love, she doesn’t have to say anything else for you to understand what she means.

“I’m sorry about what I said.” You sigh, feeling there’s no more anger left on your body. You’re done fighting the world completely. “I was so full of rage I wasn’t thinking straight.”

“Oh, my love.” Kara cups your face, making you look at her and her blue eyes meet yours. “When will you understand that you are my heart beating out of my chest? If you’re mad, I’m mad too. If you die, I will die too.”

“Momma, I love you so much, but I-I miss her. What if I can’t do it? What if I can’t get her memories back and she doesn’t-” You stop yourself, when a tear slides down your cheek.

“Then you can’t do it.” Kara says, and you furrow your brows in question. “And someone else will try. And if they can’t do it, we will live with this.”

“How?” Your voice comes out small. Kara forces a smile out.

“I don’t know, kid. But we will.” She kisses your forehead, and you close your eyes at the familiar comfort that brings. “What you can’t do is bleed yourself dry for this.”

“But it 's mom.”

“But it’s you.” Kara’s forehead rests against yours. You cry, and she cries too. Both of your hearts are beating so painfully slow. “And I can lose the entire universe, except you, my heart. And I can tell you with absolute certainty your mom feels the same way.”

“Not anymore.” You whisper and Kara’s forehead stop touching yours, as she brings you back into her arms in a comforting hug.

“We can always ask for help.”

You think about it for a second. You think about how much you wanted Kara’s help in battle. How much you needed her fighting with you side by side, because two Kryptonians are better than one. If that is true, then two Luthors must be better than one. Your Luthor is, um, unavailable. So-

No. You could never.

No. She would never.

Right?

You snap your head up, looking at Kara. She looks back at you, knowing that look on your face. The look of an idea.

“Yes?” She asks, unsettled. You super speed through your morning routine, and Kara snaps her eyes wide open at you, waiting for a response.

“I think I’ve got it.” You run out of your bedroom but come back a split second later. You kiss Kara’s cheek with a smile. “I love you. You’re the best.”

“I-I love you too.” Kara says, still surprised by your sudden change of attitude, and you leave again. This time for good.

“I have to say I’m amazed to see you, granddaughter.” Lillian says when you land in front of her. She tilts her head, and you almost salute her off. But you don’t have time for that.

“I have important pressing matters to discuss with you.” Your answer also seems to amaze her, as she raises her eyebrows at the sound of that.

“Do tell.” Lillian looks as interested as you thought she would. You never deny her your company when she appears in front of you. Once in every other month. But this is certainly out of character, so she looks curious. You look around, to be sure no one can hear you before you start.

“Some shapeshifters kidnapped Lena. They’ve mind-wiped her and hurt her, and now-now she doesn’t remember-” You think about it for a second. If Lillian’s going to help you, she needs to know exactly what Lena doesn’t remember. But what if Lena not remembering you and Kara is exactly what she always wanted? “Me.”

“Aliens.” She scoffs in disgust, almost forgetting you too are an alien, or half of one for that matter. “Let me guess. Supergirl imprisoned them in a cell and will try to turn them good eventually?”

“Well, not exactly.” You look down. Face burning at the thought of the words you’re about to say. At the truth that is about to be confined to Lillian freaking Luthor. “I-I killed them.”

“Oh.” She couldn’t have said that faster. Or have a more surprised look on her face. But slowly she comes down from her shock.

“I’ve been working on reversing their technology, but, well, I’m not much of a scientist as much as I am an inventor of sorts.” You say, receiving an agreeable nod from her.

“So what exactly is your pressing matter with me, dear?” Lillian asks. She knows what you want. It’s pretty obvious. And it’s also pretty obvious she wants you to ask for it.

“I could use some help.” You wait a beat. “Your help.”

Lillian’s nod is so tiny, if you weren’t staring at her with your undivided attention, you would’ve missed it.

“Do you still have your lab at L Corp?” She asks and you shake your head, agreeing. “What are we waiting for?”

It’s all she has to say for you to fly to L Corp with her. You look at Lena’s office to be sure she is there, before walking into the building.

“Oh, Mrs-Mrs. Luthor.” Aly shuffles in her chair uncomfortable, and you listen to her heart beating terrified and almost out of her chest.

“Hey Aly, Lillian and I have some, um, stuff to work on in my lab. You know the drill. Don’t let anyone interrupt us.” You ask and she agrees with her head, eagerly.

“Should I tell your mom-”

“No!” You stop her, before she’s half finished. “Please don’t disturb my mom. It’s all good here. Ok?”

“Of course, Miss Luthor-Danvers.” She agrees and you make a mental note to tell your mom, when all of this is over, to give Aly a raise. You thank her and make your way to your lab, with Lillian right behind you.

When you open the door, you startle yourself by the look of the place. You don’t remember the lab looking this wrecked ever before. There are cans of red bulls everywhere. Broken parts, and oh yeah, you punched a hole in your working table. Also, the amount of blood here is absurd.

“I see you’ve been working through mental breakdowns-” She pushes one can with her feet, almost too gracefully for the action itself. “Sleepless nights and-” She stares at some blood stains on the floor. “Wherever that blood came from.”

“Me. Mainly.” You point out, not entirely embarrassed by the truth of what she’s saying. You pick up your chair on the floor and point to the main computer. “You can start looking at the alien tech while I try to clean up the place a little.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Working with Lillian is not like working with Lena. It’s methodic, barely satisfactory, and it doesn’t leave space for any chat or contribution. You don’t care. You’re not looking for fun, but for results and as long as she gives you that, you don’t mind the deafening silence.

“How did it feel?” Lillian asks, after maybe two hours of uninterrupted silence. You raise your head from the new metal halo you’re making. “To kill them?”

“I don’t know.” You answer, truthfully. “I was dying with them.”

“Of course you were.” Lillian says like that’s the answer she was expecting to hear. Like hearing you had killed someone made no sense, and now with this little piece of information it all makes sense again.

After what it feels like another two hours, Lillian looks back at you with a nod. “Ready for testing.”

“Okay.” You pick the halo you made and transfer the new coding system she created to it. “I’ll make myself forget something with the mind wiper I invented and then try to bring that memory back.” You explain, but it feels stupid. It is self-evident the entire experience. “I guess I’ll forget my uncle’s name and you can remind me if it doesn’t work.” She agrees with her head. “Bye Lex.” You use your memory wiper, forgetting whatever his name is. Then you grab the halo, placing it over your head. “Ok. I’m ready.” Lillian presses a few things on the computer and nods at you when it’s over. “My uncle’s name is-”

Nothing.

“It didn’t work.” You sigh. Exhausted. “I don’t know his name.”

“I think I see the problem.” Lillian resumes working on the computer, and you wait.

“What is it?” You ask after a while, because not remembering is bothering you. “His name, I mean. What’s his name?”

Lillian turns her head back at you, to look at you from the corner of her eyes. “I don’t think not knowing will harm you more than doing so. You’re better off without this information.”

Ok, then.

“Done.” Lillian says and you do the entire process again. You sit on your chair, after erasing someone else’s name from your mind, and you sigh before putting the halo on.

“I hope this works.” You whisper, more to yourself than to her. “I miss her.”

Her eyes are filled with something that can only be described as pity when she looks at you again. Lillian blinks at you, trying to ignore your feelings. You swallow them down too. You put the halo over your head and give her a thumbs up. She turns to the computer again.

“Miss Finnick.” You say absolutely certain this time. A smile comes up your lips and, like it hasn’t been beating for all this time, your heart races on your chest, beating into your ribcage. Thank Rao. And Lillian, you guess. “It worked.”

“Luthors are geniuses, after all.” Lillian agrees with her head, and that’s all. She walks to the lab door, and you furrow your brows. “I think you can take it from here.”

“You’re not going to stay? You can tell her you did it all yourself and-”

“There’s no point.” Lillian stops you. “I won’t get any form of appreciation. And I don’t think she would trust something I made.”

“Well, she doesn’t remember me. She might not trust something I made too.” You say and Lillian gives you the closest thing to a full smile you’ve ever seen on her lips.

“Darling, look at your face. Lena might be distrustful of people, but no one is immune to your charm.” Lillian tilts her head, clearly saying this conversation is over. “Granddaughter.”

“Grandmother.” You salute her off, and Lillian opens the door of your lab. “Thank you.”

She doesn’t answer. You nearly repeat yourself, but she closes the door. She heard you. You’re sure.

Less than a minute after you called her, Kara is knocking on your lab door. You let her in with a smile, and call Aly asking her to send Lena to your lab without mentioning your name. Every second before Lena arrives is filled with anticipation and Kara has to hold you, so you don’t fly away, unable to hold yourself down.

“Listen, baby.” Kara whispers softly. “I’m sure it will work perfectly, but if it doesn’t-”

“Then we’ll figure out how to live with this.” You look up to her and she smiles at you.

“We will.” She repeats.

You hear the click on the door, when the L Corp id is accepted. You hear when the door unlocks. You watch the handle slowly opening. And what it feels like a lifetime later, you watch Lena coming in. You wait a beat for the expression on her face to reveal something. Anything. Love, hate, care, unfamiliarity. You would take anything. But Lena’s expression is unreadable.

“I’ve been wondering when I would see you again.” Lena says, directed at you. She apparently saw Kara after. “I suppose I have some thanking to do.”

That’s all. The silence lingers for another entire minute. Was that a thank you?

“But now, I’m dazed as to why and how you’re here in one of my labs.”

“It’s my lab.” You answer, taking your id card from your pocket and showing it to her.

“I suppose you’re right.” Lena agrees with her head. She takes something out of her pocket too. Looks at it for a few seconds, before showing it to you. “It’s you.”

It’s a picture of the three of you together. Old enough, but still not so old you would be unrecognizable. You were probably ten or eleven, and your faces are all smushed together, and all your smiles are so large you wish you would remember what made you guys so happy.

“How is this possible?” Lena asks, and you finally see it. Your mom, behind the façade of the strong professional CEO peeking out. And she is scared. She walks a little bit closer to you. “Was it-” She points at the large scar on the side of her head.

“No.” You say, and Kara pats your back encouraging you to say more. You breathe deep trying to calm yourself. “Alien tech, actually. I can explain it to you now, or…” You go to your table and grab the halo. “After we bring your memories back.”

“Oh.” Lena furrows her brows. She looks at the picture one more time, almost as confirmation. Like the picture is telling her that she can trust you. She goes to where you’re standing and sits on the chair you’re pointing to. You put the halo on her head and move to your computer.

“It’s Kara, right?” Lena asks and you stop looking at the computer, to look behind you. Lena is looking at your momma, who’s staring at her from across the room. Kara agrees with her head vividly. “Can you, please, stop looking at me like that? It’s, um, distracting.”

Oh great, she doesn’t even know who Kara is and already wants to sleep with her. Yes. That sounds like your mother alright.

“Sorry.” Kara’s face blushes completely. “I haven’t seen you in a long while.”

“Four days hardly feels like too long.” Lena says, and you smirk at her.

“Yeah, you clearly don’t remember anything.” You look back at your computer. “Ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” Lena says and you agree, doing exactly what Lillian has done. Lena is zoomed out for a few minutes, and you and Kara just look at her, patiently waiting to see if it worked.

You only know it worked when Lena looks at you, eyes full of tears, and she throws her arms around you so hard, even you with your super strength can feel it.

“I missed you so much.” You say, crying silent but happy tears, and you feel Kara’s arms around both of you. Lena kisses your forehead so many times, it feels like she's trying to make up for the past few days when she wasn’t around to do so. She only stops to kiss Kara’s mouth, also repeatedly for a few times, and you smile, between your tears.

“You saved me, babygirl. You saved me.” Lena says so softly, your heart swells on your chest.

“Not before they wiped your memories, though.”

It comes. As natural as the daylight. The patch, the care, the healing. Everything you were expecting, it comes.

“That was not your fault!” Lena says, assertively. And if you weren’t crying already, you would’ve started now. “Hey, baby-” Lena holds your face in her hands and smiles at you, so fondly there’s no way she doesn’t remember everything about you. “You did the impossible. You saved me, cared for me, and now you brought my memories back.”

“With Lillian’s help.”

“Sure. But that doesn’t take away everything you have done.” Lena wipes your tears and holds Kara’s hand lovingly. “I’m so proud of you.”

“She almost died to save us.” Kara adds, so Lena understands all you have done.

“You have to stop almost dying.” She begs, between tears, and you smile.

“Well, like Bukowski once said, ‘you have to die a few times before you can really live’.” You smile at her.

“He didn’t mean literally!”

“Rao, you two are such nerds I feel bad about getting in the hug and lowering the IQ of the hug.” Kara says and Lena chuckles, pulling her closer and kissing her dearly. “We’re fine.”

“We are fine.” Lena agrees.

You breathe in their words. You let them go inside of your body and let them fill you, head to toes. You’re fine. You’re fine. You hug Lena, smelling her familiar scent and you smile. You are fine.

[witch-hazels-musings]

hi hazel! you are one of the kindest and most comforting user here i'd come across and i was really hoping if you wouldn't mind if i ranted a little (๑•﹏•)

so i'd just been diagnosed with an eating disorder— which i had no idea could be diagnosed by a doctor— after taking a blood test and an interview.

i have an extreme phobia of blood so when they'd told me they had to draw some blood i... panicked. i couldn't stop hyperventilating but i knew it was for my health so i stood still and shut my eyes.

my mental health is on an extreme low and i have no idea how to get myself back up. so many people are leaving my life-- i understand i'm entering a whole new chapter of my life but it all just happened so suddenly- i can't for the life of me comprehend how everyone is not as overwhelmed as i am.

i've always been one to keep hold on my past and i've always been told that it's a shitty thing for me to do, but it was so much easier back then. there were many people to have happy moments with. i think that there were so many, that i'd grown up not knowing how to enjoy time by myself.

i'm so sorry for the whole rant, i genuinely had no idea who else to go to. i completely understand if you'd like to ignore this ask.

i hope you have a nice day <3

hello kind stranger, I appreciate your words and glad to know you feel comfortable, safe, and welcome here. I can’t imagine the stress you are dealing with, all I can do is allow you a moment to breathe while you are here <3

it’s reassuring to hear your doctors could identify your eating disorder; I know having blood drawn isn’t fun and yet you allowed them to do it for your health. as scary as it was you made it through! please follow what the doctors ask of you because, just as important as it was for you to have your blood drawn, it’s also important for you to eat and care for yourself 

as for the state of the world ... it’s hard, it’s really hard. there are buckets and buckets of people who are overwhelmed, confused, scared, and we all cope with it differently (some visible some not) -- (I am also overwhelmed; I had a break-down a few days ago because I’m uncertain what is coming. I do so quietly though so very few people even notice) and gosh, friend, I know it’s such a challenge sometimes but always remember you are still here and you still matter - and one day you might change someone's life (even if that life is your own, it’s worth every freaking second of it) 

the past is always easier, the future it a chore, a burden sometimes, and yet it holds so much incredible things for us - we just don’t have the insight to see what’s coming like we do the past, of course we will think on it fondly (how can you love what hasn’t gotten here yet? give it time lovely, give it time) 

-- 

I want to share a few things with you that make me unbelievably happy and remind me that while the world seems darker it’s also insanely bright, you just have to be reminded of it 

here are a few videos that I watch when I’m feeling lower than low to remind me beauty exists and that I’m not only witnessing it, but, just by being here, have the potential of creating it too (warnings these might make you cry)

Tired of being tired -- spoken meditation with a squirrel on a hiking trail 

The voice in your head -- it’s master chief from halo, but the message is spot on <3 

the northern lights - because sometimes beauty comes out in the darkest of times 

everything will be okay - a small song for when you’re lost

helping a paraglider - two strangers sharing a spectacular moment in the midst of it all (they don’t know each other but the joy the cameraman has for him, the unbound, careless joy - it makes me cry every time) 

may tomorrow be kinder <3 

[unmaskedagain]

Rate this (Trust is Hard to Come By)

Its six am here and I just got to work. And am now writing a drabble at my desk. Again tweaked prompt a bit. Oh and I just realized that based on this and my last few “drabble” that are long that some picture books… I don’t know what a drabble. Or least I know it doesn’t apply to what I usually write.

No one would who or what had caused the akuma this time. However, when a thirteen-year-old superfan of Ladybug got Akumatized, everyone knew it.

A loud voice boomed in the ears of all the citizens in Paris, “Beware Paris, I am the Gardener, protector of the Loveliness. Those who have failed our Queen Ladybug will be revealed. A number you shall be given on a scale to 100; the higher the number, the more trust the Queen has in you. Low numbers have failed our Queen, betrayed our queen, betrayed the loveliness, and will be punished!”

“Loveliness,” Adrien asked, already preparing to make a break for it to transform.

           Unaware that Marinette decided to wait for a bit. Some lessons needed to be learned the hard way.  All the kids were at lunch and seemed to be enjoying the day until the alert happened.

           Max pushed his glasses up, “A group of ladybugs is called a ‘loveliness of ladybugs.’. Gardeners love Ladybugs because Ladybugs protect their gardens.”

“Cool!” Kim grinned. “We get to see how much Ladybug digs us.”

           Alya preened, “I’m at least a 90.” She pulled out her phone. “I’m so going to live stream this.”

“I think I’m like an 80, dude,” Nino smirked.

           All the kids gave their guess; most figuring they were at least in the 70s. It was Alya who joked, that Marinette probably had a ten.

           The others agreed; thinking the girl had been such a bully lately, and so mean to Lila.

           Marinette overheard them from where she, Chloe, Kagami and their new friends sat. A smirked spread across her face. This would be good.

           A blindingly flash filled the cafeteria. When it was gone, all the kids had numbers above their heads.

           One by one the excited grins on the students of Bustier’s class faded.

“A two,” Alya paled. “How can I be a two?” A dark ugly red 2 floated above her head. She touched the number and words appeared next to it: Warning: Disloyal. False friend. Bully. Anger control problems. Easily swayed. Bad journalist… etc.

           Nino frowned, “I got a four.” How could he have a four? He was carapace. Ladybug had chosen him herself. Or at least she had. He hadn’t gone Super in over a year. Was that when Ladybug lost her trust in him?

           He touched the number. His warning said: bad friend. Disloyal. Bully. He touched it again before he could read any more.

           Kim had a five. Alix had a three. Mylene had a seven. Rose and Juleka had 10s. Ivan had an eight. Nathanial had an eleven. Max had a six.  All were in the red. All had similar warning signs.

           Adrien had frozen in his seat when he saw his number. A 14. How could he be a 14? Why did Ladybug barely trust him? They were partners, friends, maybe more one day. But how could they be any of that she didn’t trust him.

           He touched his number. His warning sign read: Naïve, Spineless, pushy, Bad friend, and, in bold letter, COWARD.

“We should go,” Max whispered. “People are staring.”

           And sure enough they were. Most of the student body had numbers in the 30s or 40s, it was respectable seeing as they barely dealt with the hero. However, this meant it was easy to find the kids who ranked so much lower.

           Slowly suspicious eyes fell on Bustier’s class. What had they done, most wondered. Whatever, it was they knew it was bad. Somehow the students of Bustier’s class had hurt Ladybug. And as far as the rest of the school was concerned, and those watching from Alya’s livestream, if Ladybug couldn’t trust them, they couldn’t either.

           Marinette watched with cold eyes as her classmates and ex-friends scrambled to rush out of the cafeteria. Still she kept a smile on her face as one by one student came up to thank her for whatever she had done for Ladybug; for being such a good friend to the hero.

           A glowing, bright beautiful emerald green 92 floated above her. It was the highest number anyone had seen so far. Her words attached were less of a warning and more of brag: Loyal, Honest, Good. Trustworthy. Caring. A great friend. Hardworker. Heroic. Brave. Then her warning was: A bit too insecure but working on it.

           Aurore beamed at her friend, livestreaming from her own phone to her new Bugout. She had a neon green 70 above her head. Her words: Honest, Hardworker, loyal, good friend, amazing journalist. “Everyone post a pic of themselves with the number above their heads; it’s blowing up Twitter.”

           Chloe gave everyone smug grins, as she had the second 86 above hers. Her words: Brave, strong, loyal, good. A great hero. A great friend.

Kagami had a 72. Her words: loyal, confident, headstrong, good, good friend.  Marc a 67. Ondine a 66. Claude a 71. They all had similar ones to Kagami.

“You’re in Bustier’s class, right, Marinette?” A girl who had come to thank Marinette had asked. Her question drew attention from everyone. “Are you going to be safe there? With them?”

           Claude frowned, “Maybe you shouldn’t go back there.”

           It took a lot of reassurance to get her friends and even quite a few of the other students who had been in the cafeteria to allow her to go back to her class. Even then, Marinette found Ms. Mendeleiev, who had a solid forest green 71 above her head and had a bit more pep in her step that usual, escorting her and Chloe to class.

           Students in the hall moved out of Marinette way as soon as they saw her coming, a look of awe on their faces. The bluenette couldn’t find the pink blush that crept on to her face.

           They knew they had gotten to Bustier’s class when they saw the red glow emerging from the room

           Alya couldn’t believe it. How couldn’t Ladybug trust her? She was Rena Rouge. Or least she had been. There had been a new Fox running around with Ladybug, lately. Rena hadn’t been seen in over a year. Still, Alya ran the Ladyblog. Alya thought they were friends. But how could that be true with a 2 above her head. And she wasn’t a bully or disloyal.

           The rest of the class had a similar mindset. Even Bustier, who had a three, had a sorrowful look on her face. She didn’t understand what she had done wrong.

           When green glows entered the room, they all noticed. Mouths dropped.

           Ms. Mendeleiev with a 71, they could understand. She was a great teacher, no one could deny it. The beautiful blond Chloe they could sort of understand. She had an 86; maybe she had done more good as Queen Bee than they knew about. Marinette though? Their minds just couldn’t compute.

           How could Marinette have a 92?

           They read the words attached to her and Chloe’s numbers with disbelief.

           Said girl thanked Mendeleiev who had taken to blatantly staring at Bustier with distrust. It occurred to Mendeleiev, that the younger teacher did have an absurdly high number of Akuma transformation from her students. When Mendeleiev and told everyone what she had seen and realized; most of the other faculty would begin to keep a close eye on Bustier and her class. Something just wasn’t right with that lot.

           Marinette and Chloe made their way to the seats in back. The green above their heads looked a halo.

           Alya wanted to scream. “Why does Ladybug trust you?” She asked the girls.

“She’s Queen Bee,” Marinette pointed at Chloe. “A loyal ally of Ladybug.”

           Chloe smirked, “Don’t you remember that it was Marinette who first got you that interview with Ladybug; the reason your blog became as popular as it did?” She asked reporter. “Marinette’s Ladybug’s friend.”

           Any scathing thing the students had been thinking to sneer at the girls died on their lips. Marinette was Ladybug’s friend. They knew Marinette knew the hero but never thought about how close they were.

“Why do think Ladybug stopped giving you interviews?” Chloe leaned back in her seat. A euphoric feeling filling her. “She only started working with you in the first place because she knew you were Marinette’s bestie. Once that changed, well… Ladybug just didn’t want to work with you anymore. Something about Journalistic Professionalism. How is your website doing by the way? I haven’t checked in a while. I normally use Aurore’s Bugout blog. Ladybug endorses it, you know?”

           Marinette could have kissed the blond. The devastation on Alya’s face was finally karma for all the nasty texts she had sent to Marinette before she change her number.

           Nino pulled his girlfriend into a hug.

“She read those texts you sent me by the way.” Marinette sent them a cold smirk as horrified looks overcame their faces. ��Every last one. She was so disappointed.”

“You showed her?” Rose whispered. “How could you show her?”

“Why not?” Marinette shrugged. Rose hadn’t sent as many mean texts as the others in class and weren’t all that mean; just accusatory and claiming that she refused to be friends with a Bully. “I trust her. She trusts me. I even sent her videos of what a day in our class has been like lately. Ladybug got to see and hear everything personally. She has so many concerns about the goings on in this. She’ll be going to the school board with the videos.”

           Bustier paled. She knew the students had gotten a bit out of hand but surely they weren’t that bad. They were just kids after all. (The teacher would get her answer a week later, along with a pink slip.)

           Alya sobbed as she remembered everything she sent Marinette. How could she know Ladybug would read them? No wonder Alya got a 2. Ladybug probably hated her. “I only sent that because you were being such a bully.”

“Yeah,” Alix hissed. “It’s not fair. You were being such a freak about Lila!” There were nods.

           And as the old saying goes, speak of the devil, and the devil…

           Lila had taken her sweet time getting to school that day. She had lied to her mother that it was closed for the morning because an Akuma. And it was just her luck that one would appear. She had stayed in bed all day, earphones blasting music in her ear, wondering just how she’ll amazing her classmates that day. It felt great to be adored.

           When Lila got up to leave for school, she looked in the mirror and saw a dark, blood red glowing Negative 51 above her head. She shrugged and left her apartment. Earphones still in her ears. A happy smile on her face.

           She didn’t notice the shocked and disgusted looks on people’s faces as she passed them. Or why a mother picked up her a child and ran in the other direction. Lila didn’t see the brave man who reached out, with shaky hands, and touched her number as she passed by. Nor she see the People taking pictures of her and her warning signs. The photos went viral almost instantly, everyone wanted to know just who was the girl with the only negative number in all of Paris… As far they knew.

           When Gabriel Agreste saw Lila’s image on the web, he ordered Nathalie to sever all connections to the teen girl and release a statement making it clear the company had no idea just what Lila Rossi had been capable of. Afterwards, Gabriel wondered what Lila had done to earn such a dramatically low number.

           Gabriel himself was at a respectable and average 30. While Nathalie was at solid 34. Decent not too green numbers. Though as Hawkmoth, they were both an Ugly negative -2. He knew he was a Supervillian; Ladybug regarded him as a bad guy. But she seemed to regard Lila Rossi as pure evil.

           …Maybe Hawkmoth should sever his connection to the Italian girl as well.

           Lila arrived at school, just at the end of lunch, students had just started to leave the cafeteria for lunch. She didn’t notice that students stopped in their tracks to stare at her. Or the teachers with horrifying and calculating looks on their faces. She didn’t seem Damocles’ pale and rush off to call her mother.

           She didn’t notice anything. Lila just smiled pleasantly; having decided to go with a Prince Ali story that day. Maybe that he asked her to marry him. She’d be the envy of all the girls in class.

           However, when Lila got to the class she did notice the shocked looks she got from her classmates. But not the cold smirk on Marinette’s face.

“What?” Lila asked looking around. “Did something happened? Oh, no is the Akuma still around? How awful!”  She said fighting the smile off her face. Hopefully Ladybug was getting her ass kicked, she thought.

           Alya dropped her phone. Negative? How could Lila be negative? How could she have such a low negative number at that?

           Everyone in class read the giant warning label attached to Lila Rossi’s number: Liar, backstabber, nasty, bully, untrustworthy, manipulative, rotten, villain, horrible person; the list went on and on. However, it was that shook them to their cores: Evil. Not bad. Not awful. Evil.

           Alya collapsed against her boyfriend, “No. No. I didn’t know. I swear.”

“Shh, it’s okay,” Nino comforted her. “None of us knew.” There were nods from the other students.

           Marinette and Chloe looked at them with narrowed eyes because: What the hell.

“Except I told you she was a liar,” Marinette glared at them. “You didn’t listen. You turned against me… for her.”

“You turned against Marinette,” Chloe said slowly. “The girl who did everything for you. And for what? A few glittery stories and false promises?”

           Adrien closed his eyes. Was this why Ladybug distrusted him? Because he didn’t side with Marinette like he knew he should’ve. Plagg had warned him he was wrong. But he just didn’t want to risk losing all his friends like Marinette seemed to be losing hers.

Marinette looked at Rose, “Now I want you think again about every text you all sent me because of Lila Rossi.” Once again the students turned pale. They had been so mean, so harsh, so unbelievable cruel to the girl that had been so dear to their hearts. “Now I want you to remember again that Ladybug saw them.”

           Rose was the first to break out in tears. “I’m-I’m sorry!” She sobbed and struggled to find her words. She had disowned one of her closest friends for a villain. “I’m so sorry!”

           Other students were in the same boat she was. The fiery Alix was had been contemplating going on another tirade against Marinette when Lila walked in, felt her anger be snuffed out a like a campfire in a thunderstorm. The pink haired girl remembered helping lead the charge in showing Marinette what it was like to be bullied; tripping her, ripping of her homework, shoving her. What she done? Kim had been crushing on Lila hard felt crushed. Marinette had been since friend since pre-k, and he just… left her.

           Lila looked honestly confused. She had missed something, and it was big. “What’s going on?”

           Nino glared at the girl; his eyes red, tear streaks his face. “Those numbers tell the world how much Ladybug trusts you. Or how much she doesn’t,” He said darkly, thinking about his own number and his actions against the girl he once called his best friend. “And why.”

“The lower the number,” Adrien added. “The less she trust you.”

           Chloe leaned forward in her seat and sent vicious smirk to the Italian girl, “And guess who has the only negative number in Paris.” She teased. “Besides Hawkmoth, but at least he was smart enough to hide. You’re trending by the way.”

“No!” Lila said, looking around desperately, but all she saw was cold stares. “No!” She pulled out her phone, and sure enough the name Lila Rossi was trending. Her picture with the giant negative number above her head seem to be everywhere. “This can’t be happening! How can this be happening!”

           Marinette stood up, “Because you’re a bad person. You’re mean and you’re cruel. And worst yet, you dragged everyone down with you.” She said. Her voice was righteous or angry. It was like she was stating a fact from a history book. Marinette looked over every single one of her ex-friends, “Ladybug will never trust you again.”

           The bell rang.

“Time for class,” Chloe sang. “Maybe you guys will finally learn something.”

[deepdarkdelights]

Content Tag Game!

Thank you @yoongsisbae for tagging me! I love Handshakes of a Lifetime, by the way, it feeds my need for OT7 wonderfully 😫💜

1. what fandoms have you written for (but do not currently)?

Oh boy, okay: Twilight, Black Butler, Attack on Titan, My Hero Academia, Teen Wolf, Young Justice, Batman Arkham Knight (video game), Marvel, Once Upon A Time, Narnia, Doctor Who, Rise of The Guardians, HTTYD, Fable (video game series), Percy Jackson

2. what fandoms are you currently writing for?

BTS 💜

3. how long have you been writing?

Okay, this is kind of weird, I wrote my first fanfiction when I was nine but never published it, when I was twelve I began posting to Quotev and Wattpad so I would say...eight years? I refuse to look back at either accounts because my writing was horrendous...I was a child.

4. on which platforms do you post your stories?

At this point in time, Tumblr and ao3.

5. what is your favorite genre to write?

Dark / Yandere / Horror. Anything that would make you freaked out I guess 😅

6. are you a pantser or a planner?

Uh, a bit of both? I usually have an idea of what I want to happen in a story so I have a vague outline, but as I am writing I tend to add more things and branch out from the plan. When I first started writing and posting to Tumblr, I used automatic writing and was a full-fledged pantser.

7. one-shot or multi-chapter?

If I had to choose, one shot. I feel less tied down and not as pressured to write when it comes to a one-shot. I would like to make a multi-chapter story one day though!

8. what is the perfect chapter length in your opinion?

I like usually something longer, so anywhere from 6-10k is good for me.

9. what is your longest published story? is it complete?

Actually, 10 Seconds is my longest story because it has multiple chapters. At this point in time, it is 38,250k.

10. which story did you enjoy working on the most?

Hmmmmm, probably Predator. It was my first fic after the end of The Bouquet Series and I got to flex more of my creativity and relax with it. It was fun to play with more classic horror tropes as well.

11. favorite request you’ve written and why?

I don't really take requests, I did ask for help in writing Tae's fic for The Bouquet Series and I had two asks that suggested an actor element and that was how Cut was made! So, that 😂

12. are there reoccurring themes in your stories?

Hm, the concept of time is rather prevalent in a lot of my fics now that I think about it. Weather and location are reoccurring, I like to write scenes in forests or scenes with rain. I think another common theme is not to trust grandmothers as funny as that is, in two fics we have had grandmas with bad intentions! Also, references to good and evil, Hades and Persephone, Adam and Eve, temptation, as well as predator and prey dynamics.

13. current number of wips?

Three! One is currently being written, and the other two are in the planning phases.

14. three things you have noticed about your own writing?

(1) It's fucking long 😂. I always go in with a plan to write something shorter, 8k max, and I always end with a fucking monster of a story. I also tend to overexplain, I think. (2) A lot of my writing is describing an action, facial expressions, scenes, and inner monologue. I think that is my way of trying to immerse readers or make them see my exact vision. But it can be pretty tedious and probably boring to read. I need more dialogue too, I feel like I spend too much time showing instead of telling. (3) Sometimes I think I sound like a high and mighty asshole like I am trying too hard to be profound or something so I try to dial it back a bit.

15. a quote you like from a published story.

"He could tell she had injured her head as well, scarlet drops of blood had streamed down the contours of her face and a pool of blood had formed beneath her sprawled tresses. She looked like she had a crimson halo beneath her head, carving its way into the soft, white snow under her. She was ethereal, like an angel that he had found just after they had been dropped from heaven. Forever resting, forever beautiful, and forever young." (The Stranger)

16. a quote from an unpublished story.

"Loving you has been the one pain I always want to endure. Being with you sets my heart on fire, it makes my muscles ache, it makes my lungs burn, and everything so much more complicated. But it’s the best brand of pain I could ask for.”

17. a space for you to say something to your readers.

Hi! I hope you enjoyed learning more about me and my writing if you stopped by and read this! I have been having a tough time writing as of late, but doing little things like this has made me very happy and has made me want to write more often! I am still working on my next fic, progress is going a little slower though. School starts soon too and I am going to be working two jobs and hopefully going back to cheerleading. So let's spend as much time together as we can before I get busy again! I am still aiming to write during the school year so wish me luck! Thank you for reading 💜

I tag: @chummywchimmy @chimchimsauce @chaoticpuff17 @sinning-on-a-sunday @celestial-moonlight @unfurlingtwinklingstarx @scribblemetaetwo

[starkerforlife6969]

Starker - Angel Fire

Tony is an Angel-Hunter, and Peter is...

Peter Parker is beautiful.

Then again, all angels are. Tony’s been following him for a couple of days now, his latest mark. He’s seventeen years old, one of the youngest Tony’s ever encountered, but really, that just makes him easier to kill. 

Not that there’s anyone around to teach him how to fight anyway. His mother is human, and Tony’s a good guy, so he’ll make sure she’s not home when he kills Peter. She’ll mourn, of course, which is a shame, because she isn’t his real mother. His real mother’s an angel- hopefully killed already- and now Peter’s here, pretending to be her child. Pretending he can feel real, genuine human emotions. Pretending like he doesn’t feed off the souls of others. 

Tony feels for her. 

So, he waits and watches and follows.

Peter doesn’t have many friends which doesn’t surprise him. Angels are horribly standoffish beings.

What does surprise him is that even as he follows Peter in every shadow, he never sees the boy feed. 

Well, he is a young angel. He doesn’t need as much as the older ones. 

Tony wonders how many humans this one has killed.

The perfect opportunity presents itself on a Saturday morning. The mother’s out of town, and Tony sneaks into the apartment by quietly busting the lock, his gun in his pocket, as the sun begins to peak over the horizon outside.

It’s nearly seven am. 

The apartment is still and warm when he enters, and he closes the door behind him silently. It’s painfully normal looking. Throw pillows on the couch, homework on the kitchen counter, left overs in the fridge. They’re struggling for money, that much he knows. At least the mother will only be feeding one after he’s done.

Right on cue, he hears Peter start to stir, so he presses himself behind the sagging armchair and the curtains, and watches.

Goddamn, he’s seen a lot of beautiful angels. But Peter Parker takes the cake. He watches as the boy ambles into the kitchen, rubbing one eye with his dainty fist. His skin is smooth and flawless, like a pearl, and his eyes are the warmest brown with flecks of honeyed gold. He’s wearing these skimpy little silk shorts; white with little painted dandelions, showing off those long legs and shapely thighs, and a flimsy button up sleep shirt that exposes the lovely sharp collar bones he has.

Goddamn. Such a shame. 

The boy potters around the kitchen, eyes still half-closed, yawning every so often, and his thick, hickory locks tumble into his eyes, and Tony levels his gun, and takes a deep breath.

It’s second nature now, to see the lavender glow that shines around angels. It’s like a fuzzy aura that hovers just over their skin, he sees it without trying. But the halo? That takes effort. A lot of mental strain. 

He draws on it now. He’ll need to see the halo. It’s the only way to kill an angel. A bullet will shatter it, and they’ll drop-

When he opens his eyes, he nearly drops his gun.

There’s no halo.

Above those brown curls, is nothing. Just air. Almost like a…

He steadies himself, and tries again. His head starts to ache with the strain, but still nothing. 

He can feel his fingers trembling. What the hell? How is this- how is this possible-

And then, he gapes, as he watches Peter dig his hands into a box of Lucky Charms and inhale them noisily. He crunches happily, letting out little moans of contentment and…

He’s eating. He’s eating- human food- with no one around to prove anything to- just for- just for-

For one, absurd moment, he wonders if he got it wrong. Maybe he’s been tailing the wrong person, but-

no. He can still see, clear as day, the lavender light that glows over Peter’s skin. The sheer beauty of him, the elegant slope of his neck, the long flutter of his eyelashes- unnaturally stunning. 

What is he? 

There’s a clatter, as cereal spills all over the floor, and Tony looks up to see honey-gold eyes staring at him.

Oh shit.

Peter screams, immediately bolting for the door, and Tony strides over, and grabs his arms.

“Please!” Peter cries, yanking ineffectually, tears blossoming like crystals, “please, please! I don’t- I don’t have anything, oh god-“

If Angels can’t feel, how is- how is Peter crying? How is he shaking like a leaf with fear so tangible Tony is crushed with guilt? 

But the lavender light- this boy is-

“Please,” Peter sobs, pulling harder, “please, I won’t tell anyone, I won’t, I swear-“

Tony can’t think. He doesn’t know what to do, he doesn’t- 

He twirls the boy in his grip, and Peter startles, and Tony gets him in a sleeper hold.

Peter struggles, and then slumps.

Tony can’t breathe. He draws in deep, worried breaths. What the fuck. What the fuck is happening? 

No halo, there’s no- there’s no halo- he eats, he cries-

The dawn makes everything looks clean. The air is fresher, and birds are tweeting as they start to wake. The city is almost silent; the calm before the storm; the cacophony of car horns and exhaust pipes yet to come.

Tony carries Peter to his car without any problems at all.

Apart from when he gets there.

The front seat? The back seat? The boot?

He’s not sure. The Jeep is pretty high off the ground, and the back lights are doubly secured- no chance the kid could kick them out. 

But- if he’s not an angel, and Tony’s vision is just a little wrong, he doesn’t really want to put the kid in the trunk. 

Jesus, he tries not to feel the skin under his fingertips. Peter’s soft thighs are over one hand, his shoulders in the other as he carries him bridal style, and the slip of a thing is so light, so silky.

In the end, he picks up front.

He buckles the kid into the front seat and then zip ties his hands under the dash, before getting in. Peter’s limp body slumps against the window, and it looks like he’s dozing.

He’s a gorgeous sleeper. His lashes cast shadows against his sharp cheekbones as the sun moves farther up the sky, and his chest rises and falls languidly, like a princess in a story. 

Tony peels off into the road and curses himself as he does so. The mother will be back in two days- but she’ll know something’s off before then. When Peter doesn’t answer her calls. She’ll go to the police- there’ll be posters- missing persons.

This is sloppy. Tony doesn’t like sloppy. But he doesn’t know what to do. 

He could report to his boss. It’s a long drive up to Canada, but he could make it, he thinks. Hopefully. If the boy’s story doesn’t go national. 

His fingers are deathly tight around the steering wheel, and he tries to get ahold of himself. Glancing to the right, Peter’s breathing gently, and the sound soothes him, as dangerous as that is.

The lavender light still glows beautifully from his skin. 

Fuck. Tony exhales slowly, trying to get himself under control. Canada it is. 

***

The kid wakes up a few hours before Connecticut. 

He makes a soft noise, before he seems to remember everything, and he jerks desperately- letting out a whimper when the zip ties cut into his delicate wrists, and he spins to face Tony- eyes huge and petrified.

“Oh my god,” he whispers, yanking frantically, “please- oh god please-“

“Settle down, kid.” He warns, even as his stomach ties itself in knots. He better not be abducting a fucking innocent child. “I’m not gonna hurt you.” Yet, he thinks uncomfortably. If the boy is an angel. But how would they even kill one without a halo?

“Why? Please,” he begs, “we don’t- we don’t have any money, please, my mom- she’ll-“ his breath becomes fast and shallow, “she’ll freak out, Sir- please-“

He’s tossing and turning in the passenger seat now, his wrists already marked red with how he’s trying to free himself, his gaze wild and manic like a trapped animal, as he watches the motorway whirl past. “Calm down,” Tony tries, keeping his voice low, “kid, calm down- stop- jeez, just stop wriggling!”

Peter screams, ear-piercingly loud, and Tony nearly swerves the car into oncoming traffic. 

“Shut the fuck up!” He snarls, and is immediately rewarded by silence.

He doesn’t look over for a while, heart pounding. Sweat is budding at his temples.

But when he does look, his heart breaks.

Peter’s got his knees drawn up to his chest, and his cheeks are red with tears- eyes glistening, and he’s muffling his sobs into his arms. 

It cuts Tony up. “Kid, please,” he says, more softly, reaching out- only for Peter to flinch away in fear. He’s shaking so bad Tony thinks he might burst.

Okay. This isn’t going to work.

He pulls over the next chance he gets, and parks the car. 

Peter doesn’t move. He’s still crying.

Tony rubs his face with his hands, feeling sick. The kid can’t be an angel. The fear and sadness is so strong as it rolls off him in waves Tony feels suffocated by it. He wants to let the kid go. Just drop him off here. But the lavender still hovers over his skin.

“Peter, listen.” He begins, but the boy only makes another choked off sob.

“You know my name.” He weeps, and Tony groans-

“Kid, kid, look at me. Seriously. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“You were pointing a gun at me,” Peter wails, cringing into the window. Tony swears he can almost hear the frantic jack-rabbiting of the boy’s heart. 

“You’re not human, Peter.” Maybe the truth will do it. 

Peter squirms. “You’re crazy,” he whispers, looking like Tony’s a delusional kidnapper, gaze swinging to the window, desperately searching for help. 

It’s not an unfair assumption. “Peter, I know you have no reason to believe me, but I’m an Angel-Hunter, okay? I kill angels. I was sent to kill you, but, you don’t have a halo.”

Peter looks at him for a long moment, before he hollers for help again and tugs at the dash so hard that the plastic creaks warningly. “Help! Help, please, somebody!”

Tony pinches the bridge of his nose. Thank god for his soundproof car. “Believe me or not, this is what’s gonna happen: I’m driving us to Quebec, that’s where my boss is. She’ll tell me whether or not you’re human, and if you are, you can go home, if you aren’t…” he shrugs, “I’m going to have to kill you.” How they’ll do that if the boy doesn’t have a halo, he still doesn’t know.

Peter seems to pause at that. He stops shaking so much. He looks at Tony tentatively. “If your boss says I’m human- you’ll let me go?”

“Probably reimburse you for your trouble,” Tony promises. “She’s very good like that.”

“Okay,” Peter whispers, nodding, even as his cheeks glisten with tears. “Okay, so-so- we just need to go there, and then you’ll- you’ll let me go?”

“If you’re human.”

Peter nibbles on his plush bottom lip, before he seems to sag into the seat. “Okay,” he whispers hoarsely, “let’s go to Quebec, then.”

Not that he has any say in the matter, but Tony doesn’t point that out. He doesn’t want the kid freaking out again. He just nods, and starts driving. 

*

Silence, as it turns out, is not Peter’s strong point.

The kid’s a babbler. Asks a ton of questions. If Tony were a real kidnapper, he’s not sure he’d have bothered keeping the boy this long. As it is, he answers tersely, and then flips the radio on as an excuse not to answer anymore.

Of course, it doesn’t deter the boy. 

“So, how long have you been angel hunting?” Peter asks over the thrum of a pop song.

Tony shrugs noncommittally. “Born into it. My dad was.”

“And-and what do angels do that’s so bad? Aren’t they meant to be, like- good?”

He snorts. Common misconception. “Not these ones. They look like people. But more beautiful. They feed on human souls. Drain the life out of someone and kill them. The death looks natural. It makes them hard to track.”

“Feed on human souls?” Peter repeats; horrified. “Oh. We didn’t learn that in Religious Studies.”

Tony almost cracks a smile. Damn, the kid’s a little cute. “There’s a lot you don’t learn at school, kid.”

“But- if they look just like humans, how do you catch one?”

“You have to train. Every human has the ability to see auras, but they have to harness it.”

“Auras?”

“A light that hovers over people. Humans have white, Angels have purple.”

Peter pauses. “You think I have purple?”

“I’ve been doing this for over twenty years, Peter. You do have purple.”

Peter looks down at his arms, and squints a little, before sighing. “Wouldn’t I know? If I was an Angel, I mean? I don’t kill people.”

“I know.” Tony frowns, “therein lies the problem.” Peter eats food. 

On cue, the boy’s stomach rumbles.

His huge eyes look at Tony hopefully, before they quickly dart away. But it’s been a bit of a morning, and he hasn’t eaten bar a handful of Lucky Charms, and Tony has technically kidnapped him, so he follows the route to the nearest drive-thru. 

Peter’s relaxed now, thankfully. Doesn’t seem so frightened. Seems desperately hopeful. He’s the optimistic sort, then. Awfully trusting, too. Naive. Innocent. It’s troubling.

“What do you want, kid?” he asks, as he pulls-up.

Peter vibrates with excitement. “A chicken wrap? If they- um have it?”

Tony rolls his eyes, and turns into the microphone- just before he does, he gives Peter a look. “You’re smarter than to cause a scene, right, Pete?”

Peter nods, pressing his lips together. He looks as if the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. 

Tony doesn’t want to, but he can’t risk it.

He takes his gun out, and sets it on his thigh. Peter’s eyes go wide, but he nods his understanding. 

Tony turns to the microphone. “I’ll have three chicken wraps, a cheese burger, a black coffee and…” he turns to look at Peter, sizing the boy up. He’s sweet. “and a double chocolate milkshake.”

Peter smiles so beautifully that Tony feels a small lurch of arousal. 

The thought is horrific. Not only is the kid seventeen, but he may not even be human. Tony shudders, and carefully doesn’t look at the boy as he rounds the corner, and gets to the window. The spotty teenager who hands over their food barely looks up, which Tony is grateful for. He doesn’t need anyone remembering they saw Peter.

He only has a day or so before he’ll have to get Peter to duck when they drive through busy areas. 

He hands over the wraps and the milkshake, one hand on the wheel, before he takes a bite of his own meal. 

Peter’s making contended little sounds beside him, opening the wrap carefully, making sure none of the foil falls on the floor, and biting.

His moan is pornographic, and Tony feels himself grow warm, and starts ahead resolutely. 

The kid devours two of his wraps, and leaves the third one, before starting on his milkshake. Which Tony now realises is a mistake. Even in his peripheral, he can see the way the kid’s lips purse around the straw, the hollow of his cheeks as he sucks- fuck. 

More significant than his arousal, though, is the fact that Peter can get nourishment from food. 

If Peter is an Angel, he’s an Angel who doesn’t kill humans. And if that’s the case- then- would he have to be killed at all? Even if he was-

There’s some shuffling beside him, and he turns to see Peter attempting in vain to get comfortable on the seat. The boy notices he’s watching, and then blushes. He’s got freckles dappled all over his nose. It’s irritatingly endearing. “Could you um, maybe, just tie my hands together? Not to, the car- I mean?”

Peter’s wrists are very sore. Tony doesn’t like the sight of them. He wants to help the kid out, but…he shakes his head. “Sorry, Pete. We’re not there yet.”

The boy nods, and then shuffles some more, trying to find a position that’s comfy.

Tony falls into the lull of driving. He keeps thinking. If the boy doesn’t kill, then he’s not a threat. And if he’s not a threat, Tony could just…let him go. But it’s not up to him. He needs to see Peggy. She’ll know what to do. He just…he rather hopes that killing the boy isn’t the way she’ll handle it, but again, not up to him. 

Maybe he should stop thinking of him as a boy. Because of the lavender light but- innocent until proven guilty, he supposes. 

When he looks over, Peter’s got his cheek smooshed into the dash, curls spilling out over the plastic, hunched over, and fast asleep. 

Tony smiles before he can catch himself. It can’t be comfortable, like that, but the kid’s clearly exhausted. Coming down from an adrenaline rush and some warm food will do that to you. Tony turns on the heater, and leans back into his seat, and tries not to think too hard at all. 

***

It’s a reflex as they drive through towns, to keep his eyes peeled for any spark of purple. 

There are a lot of Angels still around, but Tony doesn’t see any. Probably for the best, really. He doesn’t want to kill one in front of Peter.

He doesn’t know why. 

He just passes trees and people until he gets past the border.

Then the people disappear, and sunlit woodlands spread out all around them.

When Tony pulls over, Peter stirs.

He blinks to awareness slowly, smacking his lips together and blinking hard.

His eyes seem to glow like liquid gold in the light. 

“Bathroom break,” Tony says, by way of wake up call, and Peter lets out a sleepy little muffle, before sitting up. 

Tony’s fingers brush against Peter’s wrists as he slices through the zip tie. He can feel Peter’s pulse; slow and lazy with sleep, and he wants to press his lips to it. 

It’s so fucking dangerous. He’s walking a thin line-

“Are we in Canada?” Peter asks in surprise, as he looks out the window. His voice is still syrupy with sleep. 

“We crossed the border about an hour ago.” Tony confirms. “My gun’s in my pocket, kid, I’m gonna open the doors, we’re gonna do our business, and you’re gonna stay in my line of sight.”

Peter nods, squirming like he already has to go, and Tony bites back his smile and unlocks the door.

Peter jumps out, flitting around the car to Tony’s side and hurrying towards the privacy of the trees.

Tony has no such qualms about privacy. This stretch of forest road is deserted. The sun is hot on the back of his neck, but there’s a nice breeze that sends the branches and the flowers dancing. 

When Peter finishes, he heads back over to Tony obediently, before his eyes go huge and stare at something in the road like he can’t look away.

Tony turns and rakes his eyes over the environment. The blades of grass sway, the branches creak with old age; craning up to the sun, but nothing else moves.

And when he turns back to Peter-

the boy is gone.

*

Alright, Tony is almost impressed. 

It was a sloppy technique, but the kid got the job done. It’s Tony’s fault really, he’s not on high alert. He should be. This case is more important than the others. 

So, he makes his way through the forest. He’s slow and methodical. He’s quiet and he listens. Peter, no doubt, will be running as fast as he can. The kid’s smart. Acting docile so Tony will let his guard down, and what’s more infuriating is that that such a junior technique was effective.

He won’t be so lenient with the boy after this. It’s straight in the trunk. No more drive-thrus. No more nice guy-

He comes to a halt suddenly, when he breaks into a clearing.

A gap in the canopy, where sunlight is streaming down onto a meadow of grass- and there, sure enough, is Peter.

He’s on his knees, feet folded neatly underneath him, his profile as beautiful as the statue of a cherub, and he’s before the hulking great mass of a grizzly bear. 

Tony thinks his heart does a horrible sort of jerk. He stares, uncomprehendingly for a long moment at the scene. The bear- huge and immense- and Peter- tiny and defenceless-

It’s the final thought that kicks him into gear, reaching for his gun when-

“I was calling for you,” Peter murmurs, and Tony creeps forward, gun in his hand, before he sees that the bear is holding it’s gigantic paw in Peter’s lap, and that Peter is pulling thorns from it. It’s horrifying. It’s beautiful. It’s something from a children’s story book. “But I realised I didn’t know your name.”

“It’s Tony,” Tony manages; wrecked. 

Peter’s pulling thorns out of the paw of a fucking wild grizzly bear.

The bear looks at Tony, with horrifying black eyes, and Tony levels his gun. 

Peter shakes his head without a word. “Put it away. It wouldn’t even leave a dent.”

Tony wavers. The kid’s probably right. A bullet against that. Fucking goliath. Have bears always been so big? But where’s the sudden wisdom come from? Where’s the kid who inhaled a milkshake-

“Couldn’t you hear it calling?” Peter asks.

Tony just stares at him. The sun throws its rays against him, and there’s a halo of sunlight around Peter’s curls.

He looks like an Angel. A real one, not a monster.

“No,” Tony whispers hoarsely, as the bear lets out a guttural moan, pulling his paw away as Peter wipes his hands. “I didn’t hear anything.”

The bear leans down and rubs its nose against Peter’s head, before turning away with its massive weight, and disappearing into the forest.

Peter’s still glowing lavender.

“Oh.” Peter frowns, turning to look at Tony with his big gold eyes. “I could hear him. That’s why I came, I didn’t…” he trails off, looking unsure. “You didn’t hear him?”

“No.” The woods had been silent.

Peter looks very troubled, and he doesn’t resist when Tony comes over and offers his arm. Peter gets up, grass stains on his knees. He’s still in his pyjamas- all floral and soft. He looks like a flower child. Like he grew here, in the forest, surrounded by nature. 

“A bird fell in the playground in middle school.” Peter says, and he sounds far away, as Tony guides him back through the forest. “I heard it in class and no one- no one else did.”

“Peter.” Tony says, because it’s all he can say.

“Is that what-“ his voice drops into a whisper, “am I an..?”

“I don’t know.” Tony confesses, “I don’t know. I’ve never heard of an Angel being able to hear animals.” But then- he doesn’t know much about them. Other than that they glow, that they feed off humans, and that they can’t feel. “I don’t think they do, though.”

“What am I?” Peter asks helplessly, and Tony’s touch is more protective than it should be. 

“I don’t know, sweetheart, but we’ll- figure it out.”

*

The incident sets Tony on edge.

Instead of driving right to Quebec he pulls over at a nice looking hotel. It’s expensive, but he has the money, and the receptionist’s smile turns much warmer when he slides over his card.

But he has eyes for no one but Peter. The boy’s staring at his hand. Squinting hard. He looks utterly dazed.

Tony supposes wondering whether or not you’re human will do that to you.

It doesn’t mean he should want to reach out and comfort.

Tony’s leather jacket is hanging over Peter’s shoulders, draped there, but the bare feet and grassy legs have drawn a little bit of attention.

Not too much attention, but even a little can be dangerous.

Tony gets them up to their room as fast as possible. 

Peter still looks dazed. He doesn’t take in much of their room even though Tony’s sprung for an enormous, gorgeous, airy suite, he just sits on the edge of the bed where Tony settles him, and looks down at his lap. 

Tony checks all the windows and shuts the curtains, and locks the door, before turning to look at the boy. Peter peaks up at him through his curls. “I’m scared,” he confesses. 

Tony’s heart. He pads over, and lays his hand awkwardly on the kid’s shoulder. The boy’s so small. “I know. We’ll figure it out.” We? 

“I can see…or maybe I’m imagining it.” Peter lifts up his hand and squints, “It’s purple. My head hurts.”

It’s a relief, that the kid can see it too. Tony nods, before flipping off the lights. “Get some rest, Pete.”

Peter flops down onto the bed, and wriggles under the blanket with the sort of fatigue Tony’s seen on men back from war. “I don’t have any friends.” He whispers, “I feel alone.”

“You’re not alone,” Tony says fiercely, automatically, coming over to sit on the edge of the bed. “You’ve got me.” 

[stillebesat]

Catch Me (If You Can) -Part 1

December Drabbles Day 17 Sanders Shorts: Remy  Sanders Sides: Logan  Blurb: Remy would not allow himself to be seen as needy and helpless in front of the general masses. He had an image to uphold. One of perfect health, snarky comebacks, and general sassiness. He didn’t get sick. Fic Type: Sick!Fic, Guardian!AU Overall Fic Warnings: Sickness, Fainting, Mentions of Religion Taglist in reblog. 

He tried to push open a pull door. That’s how Remy knew he was in trouble. 

“Gurl. Seriously?” He rasped, wincing at how his voice sounded like he’d been stranded in the Sahara Desert for twelve years. 

That wasn’t good. 

He needed to sound perfect. Perfectly uncaringly carefree that is. No one needed him sick. No siree. No. Remy would not allow himself to be seen as needy and helpless in front of the general masses. He had an image to uphold. One of perfect health, snarky comebacks, and general sassiness. He didn’t get sick.

The fact that the words ‘PULL’ were dancing right in front of his bloodshot eyes and he’d still tried to push open the freaking door was beside the point. 

Remy swallowed in a failed attempt to soothe the fire burning his throat to a crisp as he drew up his flagging energy to pull open said door. Pushing would have been so much easier. Taken less energy. Energy Remy was barely managing to keep above empty at the moment. No, if the cool glass door had only allowed him to let his weight fall against it in order to gain access into the local cafe that the interwebs claimed had a cure-all chicken based chili that could fix any illness within the hour, they both would have been much better off.  

Hopefully this was more of a fifteen minute cure. Remy would be spending the last of his money on this soup. He didn’t have an hour to feel better. Not after being laid up in his closet sized bedroom for the past two days with nothing but water in his apartment. He had places to be, a midterm exam to nail and a delightful after party to attend.

Adjusting his sunglasses, Remy walked-he did not stagger!-inside and paused to take in the place as the first nauseating wift of eggs and bacon hit his nose.

Quaint. 

That was the first word that came to his spinning mind. A quaint little cafe that practically screamed fifties country diner. Warm. Inviting. Probably run by a white-haired grandmother who adopted all the college kids as her precious grandchildren and piled their plates high with food to ensure that they got a ‘proper meal.’ 

At least that’s what he thought normal grandmothers did. His old hag had lived off of bread and butter for so long Remy doubted the creature masquerading as his granny knew other food existed. She certainly hadn’t when he’d been forced to stay weekends there as a kid. 

Focus.

Remy tugged at the collar of his jacket, already feeling sweat running down his back and prickling on his forehead. Too Warm. Grandma needed to turn on the AC. 

Focus.

There were far more of his peers hanging out here than he’d expected, doubling vision to be ignored, and he did not want to make a fool of himself by throwing up two steps inside the building. 

Remy took a shallow breath to avoid smelling more eggs. This soup better be heaven sent, because if it smelt anything like whatever was currently cooking...he doubted he would be able to keep it down.

“--lp you?” 

Remy blinked, lowering his sunglasses as he turned to the singular cadentic voice that cut through the buzzing in his head and promptly forgot that his lungs worked. 

If the soup wasn’t angelic, the help certainly was. 

Tall, lithe, with sharp sapphire eyes accentuated perfectly by a pair of glasses. The man standing at the counter was like the handsome stranger one meets in a romcom. That or one of those cherubic angels -minus the tropey golden locks- he’d been forced to stare at whenever the old hag had dragged him to church.

Remy pushed his shades back up, hiding his bloodshot eyes. What sort of deal with God had this Grandma made to have such a dark haired handsome glass of yesness working for her?

The man raised a singular perfect eyebrow. “Can I help you?” He repeated in that same melodious voice.

Remy nodded, not yet trusting himself to speak without sounding like a harpy in the face of such a wonderful tone. 

Focus.

First approach. 

Sticking his hands in his jacket pockets, Remy sauntered -he did not sway not at all, he was in perfect control of his balance thank you- up to the counter and leaned against it, offering his most dazzling smile to the man. 

Moment of truth.

“Hey, honeycakes.” He said keeping his tone low to prevent the rasp in his voice from being heard. “Where’s your Halo? Cus you, my dear, are quite the Angel.” 

Nailed it.

The man pursed his lips in a thin line, his head moving in the slightest of shakes. “Unfortunately, we’re out of honey cakes, sir.” He said, tilting his head to the display of desserts in the glass next to him. “But our triple death by chocolate cake will send you,” his hands moved to form air quotations -who did that anymore?- “over the edge.” 

Ooo was that a threat or an invitation? Remy flashed another smile, tugging at the collar of his jacket. So warm in here. “So long as you’re there to catch me, Honeybee. I’ll gladly leap over any edge for you.”

The man adjusted his black rimmed glasses, moving to the register. “So you want the cake then? That’ll be $3.58. For here or to go?” 

Seriously? Remy gaped before clicking his tongue in exasperation and straightened, only to grab the counter to keep himself from falling backwards as his legs nearly buckled. 

Focus Darlin. Get in. Get out. Get healthy. Flirt later. 

“Actually.” He flinched as his voice grated in his ears. He swallowed, again lowering his tone to hide the soreness of his throat as he rested his elbows on the counter. “I came for your ah--”  He flicked his eyes up to the menu overhead, briefly lowering his shades to squint at the wiggling letters. “Chicken Chili a la Cluck.” 

A spark of recognition flashed in the Angel’s eyes. “Ah, you are under the weather?”

“Wha--NO!” Shoot. Was it that obvious? “No, ma’am!” His voice cracked as Remy jerked his hand up in the scout salute. “On my honor it's for a….” He trailed off. Well that was a pretty pickle. How the blazes could he lie if he was promising on his honor? 

The man crossed his arms the faintest of smiles appearing on his lips. “Let me guess? A friend?” 

Was that excuse used a lot then? He shrugged, shivering as a chill ran down his back. Geez, Grandma had cranked the AC up a little too high now. The place was going to freeze over any second. “I just wanted a taste of home-made soup is all.” He managed, rubbing his arms. “To go.” 

Handsome remained silent, seemingly staring straight into his soul, bright blue eyes analyzing him like a hawk about to swoop down upon a rabbit.

Geez. He was no rabbit! Remy fixed a smile on his face, ignoring how his gums ached. Don’t show weakness. Not in front of his peers. He was fine. He totally didn’t feel like his knees were going to buckle at any second. Not at all. He could hold it together for a few minutes longer.

Abruptly the man nodded, releasing Remy from his analyzing stare as he pushed his glasses up so that the glare of the lights overhead on the lenses hid his eyes.

A pity. He could stare into those glorious eyes all day long.

“Of course, Total is $4.78 for the half size.”

Perfect. He only had a five anyways. “Ah, Sugarbee, truly you are an angel to provide me with such an affordable price for homemade goodness.” He purred, shifting slightly to fish out his limp wallet from his back pocket. This soup better be divine. If he kept up this conversation much longer his throat truly would catch fire. 

The man raised an eyebrow, holding out his hand. “I am not the one to thank for deciding prices, sir.” 

Sure sure. Grandma was the one who did, sweet soul that she was, making things affordable for all her poor adopted college children. 

“I’m sure if such an angelic being such as yourself set the prices then they would be even more heavenly.” Remy swallowed wishing the soup already was in his grasp as he finally pulled out the crumpled bill, fingers betraying him by trembling. “Even so, you can keep the--” 

The Angel’s cool fingers brushed his own, feeling like a breath of fresh air on a hot summer’s day. Remy’s breath caught in his throat, hazy mind short-circuiting at the unexpected touch. How he wanted to take those hands and-- GET A GRIP REMY! “--change.” He choked out, dropping his hand to the counter before he did something even more stupid than pushing on the pull door. 

Smooth. Real smooth. Geez Gurl. Keep it together! 

But that didn’t stop his fingers from tingling, nor from the room suddenly feeling like a sauna. What had happened to the arctic temperatures freezing him two minutes ago? 

The man huffed, slipping the five into the till. “Your soup will be out momentarily, sir.” He said, dropping the coins into the nearby tip jar with an all too loud clink. “If you could step aside so I could help the next customer in line?” 

Remy glanced behind him, lowering his glasses. Internally he cursed as he took in the gaggle of people he could barely focus on. Shoot. When had they come in?! He usually was more aware of that sort of thing. 

“Relax, Specs.” Said the guy right behind him, wearing a simple red shirt that showed off nicely toned arms.

Specs? What an ugly nickname. The Angel behind him was far more than his glasses.

 “I don’t mind the wait.” Red flashed a smile to Remy. “It’s not everyday I get to witness someone flirting with you.” 

Really? He had to have misheard that. “Who wouldn’t flirt with him?” Remy asked, casually straightening slowly enough that his vision wouldn’t tunnel. “Honeybee here is absolutely…” He gestured to give himself a chance to swallow back the agony rising in his throat. “Divine.” 

Red’s grass green eyes sparked with humor as he looked beyond Remy. “So I keep telling him.” 

“You tell me yes, and we both know you’re prone to drastic exaggeration.” His Angel stated, barely twitching as the chef rang the bell, placing a to-go bowl within range for ‘Specs’ to reach if he would simply turn around and grab Remy’s food. “Now are you going to order or are you just here to antagonize me at work again?” He asked. 

“Mmmm. Gurl. No. No.” Remy shook his head, whirling to fully face his cadentic Angel and promptly regretted it, placing a hand on the counter as his knees almost buckled. Hold on. Hold on. He was fine. “Ah--” He forced a smile to his face, fighting to see through his darkening shades, to look into those wondrous eyes. “Red here---no---doesn’t lie. You are an….an….ange--” The words suddenly felt heavy on his tongue as the diner tilted, the pressure of the cool marble top fading from his fingers as he fell backwards. 

“HEY!”

A band of ice wrapped around his wrist, jerking Remy upwards. His eyes fluttered open enough to see his Angel lunging over the counter, one hand holding his, the other clenching onto his jacket, saving his head from hitting the tile floor.

Well how about that? 

“You…caught me.” He whispered in stunned disbelief as his Angel’s bright blue eyes seemed to fill his entire world before everything went black.

To Be Continued Part 2

[holylulusworld]

Done being your fool

Summary: A party, misunderstandings, and love confessions. What can go wrong?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Natasha Romanoff, Sharon Carter

Warnings: angst, unrequited love, misunderstandings, sadness, mutant reader, special powers, low-self-esteem

Earthshattering, heart-wrenching…however you want to call the moment when the man you love, the man you planned a fucking birthday party for, not just forgot to pick you up, but also enters said party with another woman at his arm is life-changing.

“Y/N…” Natasha can see your expression change form utterly disappointed, to heartbroken to downright pissed.

Well, the fact your hair and eye color changes depending on your mood doesn’t help to hide your emotions. When your hair and eyes turn bright red and change to black seconds later Natasha knows she has to bring you away.

“I am fine, great even. Have fun at the party I planned for two fucking months in my free time and raise your glass on Captain Ass…” Storming past Steve, not even sparing him a glance you slam your hands against the door to get away from the party.

The door slams shut behind you with a loud ‘bang’ and it’s the most satisfying sound you ever heard. Everyone saw what he did to you, everyone knows you are ‘head over heels, butterflies in your stomach, and sleepless nights thinking about him‘ in love with Steve.

While you make your way toward the exit of the ballroom you rented for the party you angrily wipe the tears running down your cheeks away. It’s a chilly night and you are not wearing a jacket as you were dumb enough to try to impress Steve.

Your hair changes to light blue and you need to hold back a sob when you wave at a cab.

“Downtown as fast as you can…” The driver gives you a curt nod, daring not to ask why a girl in a breathtakingly beautiful gown cries uncontrollably on his backseat. “If you don’t make a detour or try to get more money, I’ll pay you twenty extras.”

“Wouldn’t dare to mess with a girl from the Avengers, lady.” Nodding you give him twenty bucks to apologize. 

“Take the tip…sorry for assuming you want to mess with me too.”

Repeatedly slamming your fists into your pillow to get comfortable you curse your heart, Steve Rogers, and the fact you were dumb enough to believe he would be impressed and fall for you after you threw a party for him.

Lying in your bed, a thousand thoughts swirling through your mind you try to find a way to face Steve and the others in the morning.

They will enjoy the party, come back to the tower and ask the question you hate to answer…

“Why did you leave?” Shrieking you jolt up in your bed, ready to attack the intruder only to look at Steve. “Y/N?”

“I was tired.” Defeated you slump back onto your bed, turning your back toward Steve. “Leave me alone and go back to your party.”

“It’s your party, doll. You planned it and I don’t understand why you leave it, pretending to be tired.” Steve steps further into your bedroom, sighing when you do not talk to him. “Y/N?”

“I said I was tired!” Your hair threatens to change to bright red again and you take deep breaths to not explode. “Leave it there, Steve.”

“You planned the party only to spend it in your bed? You are not tired.” Steve sounds pissed but you are beyond the point of no return, so you jump out of your bed to face Steve.

“I was tired, Steve!” Your hair and eyes are red now and heat radiates through your body.

“Tired of you not seeing me. Tired of you bringing a girl to the fucking party I planned. I was tired of you not seeing that I am in love with you for what feels like ages.”

“I…I didn’t know.” Voice barely above a whisper Steve looks at your hair changing to pale blue.

“Yeah, I know. Everyone could see. Everyone told me to try to make a move and I did Steve. For months I threw myself at you. I cooked for you. Attended any mission with you, thanks to Tony and then…” 

Raising your hands in surrender you blink the tears away when your hair changes to grey.

“I had this idea to spend all my free time to plan the perfect party for you. I believed you would finally see how much you mean to me.” Laughing bitterly you cast your eyes down to the floor. 

“Why did you leave the party?”

“As you came with CARTER! I thought you would offer me a ride after I told you about the party. Hell, I manipulated my car and told you it’s broken but you didn’t show, and I had to call a cab.” 

Sniffling you wipe your eyes. “I was waiting at the ballroom, my birthday gift in my hands and then you come through the door, Sharon Carter at your arm and I knew…I just knew you give a shit on me…”

“Y/N, let me explain…” Your index finger presses against Steve’s lips and you shake your head. “I am tired of running after you Steve. From now on, we should keep our relationship strictly professional.”

“Okay…but…” One word leaving Steve’s lips rips you apart. You believed he would fight, would tell you that this is a misunderstanding and that he at least – doesn’t want to lose your friendship.

“Go! Get out of my room!” Hair blue once again you hold back the tears while you shove Steve our of your room. 

“Wait...we should…” Your door closes and you lock it, not wanting to talk to Steve ever again. 

“No, we shouldn’t, Rogers…”

“Will you tell me why you left the party?” Bucky nudges your side glancing at your pale blue hair. “Why is your hair blue?”

“Sadness,” Natasha whispers. “Her hair changes colors like a mood ring.” 

“I know that, Natasha. I asked for the reason why she’s sad.” Deadpanning Bucky bickers about hair colors and knowing you better with Natasha while to your utterly horror, Agent Sharon Carter enters the kitchen.

“Good morning. Has anyone seen Steve?” She asks and you feel like someone ripped your heart out. Last night you told Steve about your feelings, told him you are in love with him and he has the guts to bring her here.

“Got no clue. Maybe he’s polishing his fake halo…” Smashing your cup of coffee against the wall behind Sharon you laugh like a mad man. “I am such an idiot!”

Your hair changes to grey, and this time…it stays grey. Natasha must watch your storm out of the kitchen and her heart drops.

“Whatever he did, Steve fucked up big time. She just suppressed her emotions…”

Bucky’s eyes dart between the usually tough assassin who starts to sniffle and the coffee running down the wall.

“Let me talk to her. I will see what I can do…” 

“Doll, fuck! I was searching the whole tower only to find you on the rooftop in the furthest corner.” Bucky sits next to you, patting your knee when his eyes land on your blue hair. “Blue again?”

“I told him…last night…” 

“Why are you on the rooftop only to sit in a corner?” Bucky tries to distract you, tries to talk to you but your hair changes to grey again.

“I'm afraid of heights and of leading a life of no significance.” Huffing the words out you glance at Bucky. 

“Why do you come up here if you are afraid of heights?” Ludicrous Bucky watches your trembling fingers. Fear let your hair turn white and you fight to bring the words out.

“If I am up here, the fear is the strongest emotion and outpowers everything else. Sadness. Embarrassment. Anything…” Bucky slings his arm around your shoulders, still not saying anything.

“What did you tell him? That you love him, doll?” Humming you look at your feet. “What happened?”

“He told me that he didn’t know. I got mad and told him to keep our relationship strictly professional and he…he just agreed.”

Tears run down your face and your hair changes to bright blue. “It always has been that way. Every time I liked a guy, he backed off. Figures.”

“Figures? I don’t understand, doll. Why should Steve back off only as you love him? He should be overwhelmed and happy.” Now you punch Bucky’s shoulder, giving him a sad smile.

“I wear my emotions visible for anyone to see. I am a freak of nature, Bucky. Why should Captain America, the golden boy himself being interested in me if anyone else pushed me away?”

“Why the grey hair?” Looking at your hair Bucky stiffens. “Y/N?”

“I can suppress my emotions, Buck. When it gets too much to handle or I get hurt…” Voice cracking you wipe your nose. “I suppressed my emotions before. I am more focused, faster, sharper – a better agent.”

“Not a better girl, though.” Steve mumbles. “Buck, can you leave us alone for a minute?” Bucky refuses to move, rather glares up at his friend. “Please give us a moment. I need to talk to Y/N in private.”

Bucky reluctantly gets up, gives his friend a warning nudge to his chest before he nods at you. 

“One word, doll and I am back. Just holler for me, Y/N.” Walking past his friend Bucky snorts when Steve rushes to your side to kneel next to you.

“Doll, you kicked me out of your apartment. I thought…I wanted to…” Panting Steve takes your hand in his. “I agreed to act strictly professional on missions but outside…”

“Outside what, Steve? Can you not leave me alone?” Hair blue again you glare at Steve. “I am done being your fool. Not one day after I admitted my feelings to you, you brought her to your apartment and fucked her…”

“I did what with whom?” Steve cups your cheek, forces you to look up at him. “I wasn’t with anyone, Y/N. I left your apartment and didn’t go back to the party.”

“Sharon, she slept here, at the tower. Don’t try to lie to me, Steve. I told you that I love you and you…you just bring her here and…” Sniffling you try to blink more tears away.

“I swear on all that’s holy, on my mother’s grave, that I did not bring her here. I didn’t even speak to her.”

“But you brought her to the party, Steve. Now you are telling me you did not invite her to the tower.” Your hair turns red again and you punch your fist into Steve’s face. “Liar.”

“Fine! I admit that I did not want to go alone. I heard from Nat that you will attend the party with a hunk – I didn’t know what a hunk is, had to google it, but those guys looked like models.” Blinking a few times, you look up at Steve. 

“What do you mean with hunk? I was alone at the fucking party I planned for your ungrateful ass…” Slamming your fists into Steve’s chest you groan in annoyance as he doesn’t even flinch.

“I didn’t know. Natasha said you’ll come to the party with the hung hunk of your dreams. I wanted to ask you to be my plus one but then I thought you have a sexy guy and asked Sharon…only as a friend…I swear…”

Steve starts to stammer and for the first time, he looks less than the self-confident Captain and more like the weak and shy guy he used to be.

“Hung hunk? I never used such words to describe anyone, Steve.” Giggling at Steve’s confused look you let your hair change to your original hair color. “If I would use such word, I’d use them for you…”

“Me…” Leaning closer Steve presses his lips to yours, grasps for your waist to bring you in his arms. “I swear I don’t know why Sharon was at the tower. I did not spend the night with her. I was awake, thinking about the possibility to make you talk to me.”

“Then why did she look for you?” 

“As I wanted to hand him some very important documents on behalf of Director Fury. I slept at the tower as it was a matter of national security that those papers only fall in Captain Roger's hands. I slept at one of the empty apartments.”

Sharon hands Steve the papers, smiling as he won’t let go of you. “Tony Stark offered me a place to sleep.”

“Uh—fuck. I am sorry for the cup…”

“Don’t worry. People tent to throw things at me.” Sharon gives you a wink before she leaves you and Steve alone. 

His lips are back on yours, press firmly against your soft pillows. “Your hair is light red.”

“Yeah…”

“It was never light red before…” 

“I never was in love before…not like this…” It’s Steve’s turn to feel his cheeks heat up.

“So…can I show you my room?” Grinning cheekily Steve leans closer to brush his lips over yours.

“In your dreams, Rogers. You will have to prove you are my hung hunk…”

All works Tags

@yolobloggers​​​​​​

@shikshinkwon​​​​​​​

@miraclesoflove​​​​​​

@mogaruke​​​​​​

@shatteredabby​

@soryuwifeyxx​

@letsdisneythings​

@i-love-superhero​

@psychicforest​

@thevelvetseries​

@deanmonandnegansbitch​​​​​

@sabascio​

@goodgodimaweirdperson​

@that-place-called-middle-earth​​​

@the-broken-angel-13​​​

@trumpettay​

@zxph-yr​​

@belovedcherry​​​

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

Marvel Tags

@stuckys-whore​​

@notyourtypicalrose​

@voltage-my2dlove​

@officialmarvelwhore​

@randomgirlkensy​

@juniorhuntersam​​

@lumar014​

@doctorswife221b​

@sister-winchesters99​

@sweetkingdomstarlight-blog​​

@the-soulofdevil​​

@chonisberonica​

@redroomproperty​​

@natura1phenomenon​

@chaoticfiretaconerd​​

@heartislubbingdubbing​

@hhiggs​

@sea040561​

@midnightsilver16830​

@rvgrsbrns​

@fandom-princess-forevermore​

@amandamdiehl​

@grincheveryday​​

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

Steve Rogers/Chris Evans Tags

@roonyxx​​

@stylesismyhubs​

@multisuperfandom​

@mrspeacem1nusone​

@fallenoutofrose​

@rynabarnesrogers​

@denisemarieangelina​

@gabifernandessn​​

@heyiamthatbitch​​

[whumpingcrow]

Chapter 6 (Gio POV)

Bad Dogs Sleep Outside

CW: bbu and everything in relation to that, discussion of conditioning/training/brainwashing, trauma/ptsd themes, noncon drug use, noncon/dubcon touching and kissing, lady whumper, intimate whumper, multiple whumpers, physical assault, dehumanizing language/themes, emotional whump, weather whump (is that a thing?), strangulation mention (let me know if i missed anything!)

Everything sounds very far away. It's a thing I keep noticing over and over again, like my mind is a carousel and there's only one little man riding in circles, screaming "Hey! Everything sounds really far away!" each time he goes around. How do I remember what a carousel is? What a bizarre thing to linger around after everything else was beaten out of me. It's so bizarre that I laugh. That sounds far away, too.

"Watcha laughing at?" Rory asks me, her voice a murmer across a million mile void from her throat to my head. I look up at her from my spot on the floor. She's so beautiful, her once electric blue hair is fading out to a light blue-ish blonde, which looks like a silvery halo, the way the light is catching it right now. I smile at her. Nicko should be drawing pictures of her, and it makes me feel somewhat disgusting that I have the one he drew for me taped up to the wall next to the beanbag, because I'm most definitely not living, breathing art that needs to be captured on paper, Rory is.

I can't remember her question, but the fear that ties my stomach into knots because I am so stupid and need to be listening better, also feels far away. Whatever drug she gave me this time is amazing. I never want to stop feeling this way. I want to be as far away from myself as possible all the time, if I could I would get a restraining order against myself. Why do I remember what a restraining order is? Restraining orders and carousels stayed behind but not guitars or names of people I think I used to know? Why'd they have to break me up so jagged like that? None of my pieces fit together anymore, no matter how many times I've tried to glue them back together.

But right now, the pieces of me that are the most functioning are the most shattered and re-mended of all; the sharp edges of training. I remember it all, even if it's just down to muscle memory sometimes. I don't have to try so hard to think about why I'm doing something or what it means, it just is. I do this now, kneeling in front of Rory, tentatively hovering by her leg, making it obvious I want to be closer. I know that, with some of the trainers, being soft like this was sometimes reward-worthy, or at the very least would stop them from hurting me for a little while.

"You're so beautiful," I breathe, realizing that she's still looking at me expectantly, waiting for an answer to the question I'm stupid enough to have forgotten in the five seconds since she's asked it. She blushes, then smiles at me. Her hands find their way to my hair and she runs her fingers through some of the tangles.

"You're such a darling, you know that?" Her voice is like a song, her fingernails scratching behind my ear is driving me crazy. I feel myself pressing into her touch, and I hear her laugh softly. It makes me warm all over. I want her to look at me how she's looking at me right now all the time, jaded blue eyes downcast at me, shining in amusement behind the dullness of the drugs, like sunshine reflecting off shattered glass discarded in a dirty puddle. And I love the way she sounds when she says things like that, that I'm darling. I want her to say more stuff like that, so I keep going.

I lean toward her, tipping my head back to get a better look at her. "Rory," I whisper, "you're like an angel, miss."

She smiles wider at me, then drags one of her sharp nails against my jaw and down my throat. A chill goes down my spine, and I sigh just a little at it. "Why don't you come up on the bed with me, Gio?" Her voice is real low and silky when she says it, it echos across the vast canyon that I feel is separating me from reality. I remember when I first got here, she told me her name was like the princess I was too stupid to know (how fucking irritating that I remember what a carousel is and not whoever Rory was talking about) and I think now that the title fits her. Nicko's called her that a few times, "Princess", and it feels like the most honest thing he's said.

Slowly, I grab onto the too-soft sheets and pull myself to my feet. The ground is nothing but static underneath me, for a second I'm scared I'll drop through it and fall endlessly into hell. I can't help but think that's where I'll end up, and it scares me shitless that I might be going there right now. So I collapse onto the bed next to Rory, keeping my eyes focused on the floor to make sure it's still there.

Rory loops her fingers around my neck loosely and forces me to turn my head to look at her. She's staring holes into my skin, her gaze suddenly so intense it reminds me of Master. I close my eyes. I don't want to think of him, towering over me and watching me with that same look as I would tremble and sob and beg him to just be done already. Rory's finger is right over my pulse, and I pray that she doesn't add any pressure.

She smells like smoke and alcohol and perfume, and her breath is brushing my cheek when she says "It's so cute when you say things like that." Then her lips fall against my cheek, then my jaw, then she moves her hand and kisses over my pulse. I draw in a deep breath, keeping my eyes closed. I wonder if her lipstick is coming off on my skin where she kisses me. And, just when I think I might fall over in the euphoria that comes with her touching me so gently, her lips are against my own, hands cupping my face to keep me still. As if I would ever dream of not letting her do this to me.

She kisses me sloppily, with tongue and teeth, and I'm grabbing hard at the sheets and trying to put myself back into my body so I can actually experience it. But no matter how hard I try, everything is still so far away. "Hey!" The little guy on the carousel screams. "Everything is very far away!"

Even when her hands are sliding down my chest, and over my waistband, I don't really feel it, even when she's taking my lip into her teeth and biting like she's trying to draw blood, it's not my pain, not really. Even when the door opens and slams shut and I hear Nicko's booming voice asking us "What the fuck are you doing?!", it hurts my ears but I don't really process it.

Only when Rory snaps away from me and I feel hands grabbing me hard and ripping me off the mattress do I feel somewhat present, and Nicko is grabbing the collar of my shirt tightly and his furious face is right in front of mine, and I'm afraid.

"Why the fuck are you tounging my girlfriend, you fucking freak?!" He shouts at me. I try my best to cower away from him, but his grip is too tight, he really wants me to see how angry he is. Hot tears are in my eyes, I can't force my brain to come up with an apology, so I just stare up at him as he shouts at me. And then he must decide that yelling isn't enough, and he pulls back and punches me in the nose.

"Nicko stop it!" I hear Rory shriek, but it seems to only egg him on more, and he hits me again. This time I notice that the floor is pressed up against my back, or I guess I'm splayed out on the floor, it's hard to tell, my world feels all upside down. And my face is throbbing, I think, and I can't tell if it's hard to see because of the pain or if I just don't have my eyes open all the way. Through all of that, though, I remind myself to be quiet. Nicko's already so angry, the only thing I can do is stay silent and observe him landing brutal kicks against me, now. I find myself wondering what I did to deserve this, everything is so muddled and confusing I'm not even sure who's hitting me anymore.

"I'm sorry," I plead to the hands, trying to put as much remorse into my voice as I can, but it only comes out mangled and exhausted. Not good enough, they hit me again. I try another time, "ple-please, I'm sorry!"

Then I'm being picked up off the ground, hands reaching out of the dense, fuzzy cloud of confusion surrounding me and pulling me gruffly to my feet. I'm dragged out of the bedroom, I can hear Rory shouting at Nicko to let me go, and I look up to see him glaring forward, not even looking at me. He's livid, even more angry than the day he shouted when I passed out at the shop. My lungs feel like they're full of cement, Nicko is mad at me! I am so stupid and annoying and worthless and

"I'm so sorry!" I sob out. He ignores me.

We pass by one of Nicko's other roommates as he drags me down the hall, he's never said a word to me before, but he always looks at me with vague disgust when he's around. I think his name is Ben. Now, his disgust is warped with horror, his eyebrows twisted into a tight frown and his mouth hanging open as Nicko drags me along next to him. He doesn't say anything. I wish it were Salem. Salem would have said something. I wonder when he'll back from work, if I'll be able to sneak away from Nicko and Rory long enough to see him. That is, if I even live that long. The way Nicko is handling me carelessly, with a drunken, vengeful look in his eyes, I don't have much hope that I will.

He opens the sliding door to the backyard, where snow covers nearly every surface, the porch light soaks all of it in a rusty orange glow. It makes me feel hollow inside when Nicko drags me out there. I'm not wearing shoes or socks, hardly wearing pants, and Nicko seems to only give me thin t-shirts instead of heavy sweaters like he and Rory wear.

The cold knocks my breath away, especially when Nicko tosses me down to the ground. The snow feels almost sharp against my skin, like it's cutting into me. I refuse to make any sound. Nicko is mad enough. He approaches me slowly, I only dare to look at his huge black boots approaching, I don't lift my head, I don't look up at him. I don't deserve to. He crouches down in front of me, sliding his belt out of the loops in his jeans slowly.

"You're fucking sick, you know that?" He says. I flinch away from his voice, and then he's sitting me up, leaning me against one of the wooden pillars holding the awning up. "You don't seriously think she wants you, right? I mean, look at you, you're pathetic. You're not even a fucking person anymore, Giovanni. Do you get that? She doesn't want you..." he presses me closer to the beam I'm leaning against, I feel splinters in my back already. He's so fucking scary like this, and I absolutely hate myself for pushing him into such horrific anger. I'm so horrible. I deserve this. I deserve this and so much more. He brings the belt up, looping it around my neck and the pillar, tightening it so I can't move. If I relax even an inch it would strangle me, I'm sure of it, I'm barely able to get in ragged breaths already. Nicko stands up. "She just wants the attention."

I can hardly see him through tears in my eyes as he stands up, hovering over me for a moment. I want him to let me down, I want to go back inside and put on Salem's sweater that I keep hidden, I want Nicko to like me again, I hate when he's this angry. I say nothing, because I deserve this. Because I'm horrible.

"You'll sleep out here tonight, so you can really learn your lesson."

His blurry silhouette turns away from me. I can't move enough to watch him walk all the way inside, but I hear the door close, then I hear it lock. When I'm sure I'm alone, I start to cry.