#this came to me out of nowhere. all that leather... I need a follow up... goddamnit do I have to write it

[livingininsomnia]

"You have a motorcycle?!"

... With all that leather going on, you shouldn't be surprised, but somehow, it doesn't really seem to be something you would expect Silver to own...?

The man in question shrugs. "One thing lead to another with Father, and then..." he says helplessly, and you nod. Of course it would be Lilia's fault.

Then he puts on a helmet, and makes you take the other.

Surprisingly, it's a perfect fit. Hmm. But still.

"... Is it safe?" you ask hesitantly.

Silver swings one leg over the machine, and he makes such a handsome silhouette that you can't pull your eyes away. You can see the outline of his biceps even below the leather jacket, and your eyes are drawn helplessly to the line of his shoulders. All of a sudden, motorcycles don't seem so bad.

He offers a hand to you, and you still take it, despite your apprehensions. He pulls you close and and draws your arms around his waist.

"I wouldn't let anything happen to you," he murmurs, before starting up the motorcycle.

"Hold on tight."

[purple-goo-writes]

Punk Hazard

Now to put this into a story.

Part 2 Here

It was a normal day in Central City. The Flashes were fighting the latest team-up between Killer Frost and Captain Cold. So of course it was snowing in July now and traffic was stalled due to ìce attacks making the roads impassable. But the heroes had the villains on the ropes. Then a fresh wave of ice and cold came out of nowhere, covering everything and everyone in frost. Dropping the temperature further as the crunching of boots on ice drew everyone's attention. Dressed in distressed black leather pants with frosted chains, a black crop top with a deep v-neck lined with blue, and plenty of ice chains to rattle as he walked was a teen near Impulse's age with pale blue skin, elfin features, and long black hair streaked with white and blue. Blue lips pulled into a deadly smirk as the air started to thrum with vibrations and the beat of crackling ice, "Time to drop the beat down."

Unfortunately for the heroes, they were not familiar with this villain's move set or powers. And it seemed they had made a mistake in assuming that his powers were similar to the other two ice villains. Only to be thrown for a loop when they missed a beat and started to freeze. And the music was only getting faster and with it came faster ice attacks.

Later, Barry groaned as his team worked to get him, Wally, and Bart out of their ice prisons. The three of them were shivering and turning blue from how cold their core temps had dropped. Looked like they would be hitting the showers on max heat once thawed out.

"What in the world was that?" Wally groaned once he was finally freed, while Barry rubbed his hands together to get feeling back, "I don't know but we better get investigating to figure out how to fight this new guy."

"Yeah, I don't fancy being a Flash-cicle just because I can't keep the beat," Wally grumbled, "Dick is going to make me play sooo much Just Dance once he hears about our new villain."

"You noticed it too?" Bart shivered, taking his mind away from the fact that the new villain was around his age and rather interesting to look at. Something he hadn't noticed before on others. he shook his head, no he needed to focus, "We had to follow the beat of the music or we started to freeze up. It was pretty easy to do until he started to ramp up the difficulty. Also...He has to follow the beat as well."

Barry groaned softly as he wrapped the blanket handed to him around his shoulders, "Wally is right, we are going to have to start ramping up our Just Dance scores...Hal is going to laugh himself sick."

All three groaned realizing their respective teams were going to be insufferable.

---

"You are pretty badass, kid," Killer Frost smirked once they got away from the heroes, "What even are your powers?" "A cross between music manipulation and Ice control," He shrugged, "I've been calling it Cryo Symphony." "Got a name?" Captain Cold grunted looking over the little punk, though little probably only applied to age given the kid was nearly his height and in that awkward stage between Twink and Tank.

"I was thinking Punk Frost-" "Yeah no, I got Frost already covered and I'm not looking for a side kick," Killer Frost hissed at him, making the kid raise his hands in surrender, "Okay, how about Punk Hazard? After all, I am a punk and my powers are hazardous to other's health if they can't keep the beat." "Sounds good kid, now you got a place to stay?" Snart asked, tone gruff but concerned. He never liked seeing kids turn to the villain life, didn't really like kiddie heroes but at least they had more support then kiddie villains did.

"Ummm not really?" Danny shrugged, "Probably the bridge I've been sleeping under."

Even Frost looked concerned at that, causing Snart to sigh, "Yeah no, I got a safe house you can crash at. Come on, you look like you haven't eaten in days." Danny blinked in confusion, "Huh?" Making Frost snicker, "Sorry, kid looks like you've been adopted."

[kumiaku]

Harness - Dottore x Reader

Kinktober Day 1 - Harness, Dottore x Reader, Genshin Impact

Masterlist

Misc. Tags - Established Relationship, Reader is implied to be Fatui/Fatui Harbinger, Lowkey hate sex ngl, CBT I think, gender neutral reader, dirty talk, degradation, slight sadism/masochism, foot job?? Lowkey implied toxic relationship, but that’s just onbrand for dottore, safe - sure, sane - no, consensual - absolutely.

WC - 1,049

Nsfw under cut

“Are you fucking joking Dottore?” You hissed the second you stepped into the Grand Gothe Hotel. The recruits around the two of you made themselves scarce, seeping into the shadows of the Hotel, as to not incur your wrath. 

“I don’t see the issue, dear.” Dottore, that son of a bitch, pretended like he hadn’t just made a fool of the Fatui in front of the Knights of Favonius, the Ragnvindr brat, and the Deacon from the Church. Yet, even with his farce, he didn’t dare challenge your grating gaze - instead having his face look to the side as if your seething would so easily steam away. 

You made a choked noise, somewhere between a growl and a laugh as you shook your head - reached up, and yanked at the harness around Dottore’s neck, sending him surging forward towards you. “Look me in the fucking eye and say that again.” 

His mask made up the vast majority of his emotional features, but his mouth always betrayed him, curved in particularly vexed visage. Despite his mouth opening in silent surprise, he remained speechless, his lips loose enough to reveal his teeth to both you and the fucking entirety of Mondstadt. Did he not realize how diplomacy was meant to work? 

Clearly not, as you tugged on the collar round his neck again, dragging him further down. “Fucking say something!” Yet he just limply followed your lead, knees buckling to meet the ground in some slapstick show of submission. 

And that’s when you finally noticed it. 

“Are you fucking for real right now?” Your exasperated voice leaves your body just as warmth begins to kindle - you stare down at Dottore. On his knees for you, lips pressed in a thin shaky line, pants perturbed by a prominent protrusion. “You're getting off on this.” 

The hand not firmly clenched around the black leather tight around his neck came up to rest on your calescent cheeks, you laughed, almost in despair over the fact - “I’m going to get nowhere with you.” 

“No.” He finally fucking opened his mouth, his expression shifting into a sinful smile and the little bits of his cheeks seemingly darkening with a reddish flush. “You’re not.” 

“Oh? So we aren’t gonna get into your bed again?” As if you could ever get rid of his warmth next to you in bed, it was all a lie, a farce, for the temporary satisfaction of hearing him backtrack on his words. To hear the usually arrogant Doctor lose his cool, even slightly, and concede his mind as well as his body to you. 

“Well,” Dottore paused, his lips curled up, revealing his canine teeth for a moment, “I never said that.” 

You leaned down, fingers tangling in the - now warm - metal circle in the middle of his neck, wrenching him up by the harness. The same harness that dipped under his clothing, just peeking out at his neck, always taunting you. 

Dottore sucked in some air - if he even needed to breathe nowadays. 

“Well you implied it - so it sounds like we won't be going anywhere.” Despite trying so desperately to make eye contact with his mask, your eyes kept slipping down to the place you were keeping him restrained, then lower, to where the pants were keeping him restrained in another way. 

“NO - no.” Dottore swiftly rejected, his voice initially straining in that needy way that always made you want to eat him whole. But he composed himself, even just enough to speak with only the slightest salacity hinging in on his tone. “We can -” setting his own pride aside, gritting his teeth like a cornered animal, “-we can go places.” 

How much power did you yield over this man to make the chronically deranged man in front of you nigh speechless. 

“How romantic.” You spoke, sarcasm slick in your voice. Again, you yank at his harness, letting him go to almost have his face plant into the ground - only if he didn’t catch himself. “Maybe if you beg.” 

Setting his pride aside wasn’t enough. No. Today he had to want it. With the bullshit he pulled earlier - this was the only way to get anywhere with him. To make him regret it. 

He made some stupid, shaky, strangle noise that wasn’t at all slutty or sexy. No, you weren’t enjoying this as much as he was. 

For a minute, you didn’t even think you heard his voice, until he repeated himself, a soft “Please...” leaving his mouth. 

With a grin, your fingers sifted through strands of his hair to grab at the back of his harness, pulling him back up onto his knees. “Spread and strip.” Fuck, now even you seemed a little lusty. 

But it was nowhere near the listless lewd look of his teeth sinking into his lips. He complied with ease, barely even grumbling as he slid off his white coat, letting it pool on the ground around him. His blue shirt shortly followed, but it was your breath that was cut short when his full chest was exposed. 

Fuck - you reached out and grabbed it from the front again - almost lifting him up if not for your boot swiftly being placed on his crotch, pushing him back down. But he didn’t back down, no he relished this treatment, his mouth scrunching - barely containing the noises he wanted to let loose. 

“You fucking whore - this entire time you’ve been taunting me - wearing this for what - so you were ready for me yank you around - to put you on a leash and walk you around like your my dog.” You hissed, continuing the pressure, pulling and pushing, it was an ebb and flow between the two of you. The flow of your boot grinding against his constrained cloth covered cock, and the ebb of his eventual egoistic personality returning. 

But for now, he was wrapped around your finger, or rather pressed under your heel. 

Pitiful strings of syllables slipped from him, escaping his red-bitten shaky lips, the only thing even remotely close to a sentence was a single word, “please...” 

Your ears burned from his whines and whimpers, he was going to make you soft, then break you down and build you up all over again, just as you were going to break him again and again.

[whumped-by-glitter]

WOW's Birthday Event Day 4: Electrocution / Waterboarded / "Anything but that!"

⚠️ CW: Electrocution, Waterboarding, Non-Sexual Nudity (mentioned), Torture. (please let me know if I missed anything)

A HUGE shout out to @3-2-whump for beta reading so I could get this out today!

Day 3 Here <

Youngest was dragged off. They kicked and thrashed as hard as they could, cussing the men who held them out. One of them had finally had enough of it and punched them hard in the stomach.

“Shut the fuck up and cooperate, or you’ll get worse,” the man growled harshly.

Youngest doubled over, the wind knocked out of them, and collapsed. Before they could catch their breath, they felt themselves be hoisted up again. This time Youngest complied. They knew a cracked rib would make escape more difficult, they reasoned. They needed to stay focused on getting Whumpee and getting out of here. Maybe being captured isn’t such a bad thing, they’ll find Whumpee quicker this way, right?

When the hood was finally removed, they found themselves in a small sterile room with a single table that was about 6 feet long. The handcuffs were removed but before they could struggle, they were forced down into a high back chair. Their heart sank. This looked like an interrogation room. Whumpee was nowhere to be seen.

Their arms were secured to the armrests then their ankles to the chair legs. A sickening fear emerged when the head of a leather strap appeared in their field of vision. It was pulled across their throat by a set of dexterous hands. Youngest could hear it be pushed back through a hole on the other side of their throat before being pulled uncomfortably tight. They then heard it buckle behind them. They were completely immobilized.

Youngest could hear the door open behind them open. Whoever just came in caused the men on either side them to snap to attention.

“Well, well,” a voice came low in menacing before revealing itself. “it’s not every day my enemies come crawling to me on their hands and knees,” the man sneered, settling down in chair on the opposite side of the table.

Claudio! Youngest realized. They flushed red slightly at his taunt.

“So why did you come here?” Claudio asked in a light, somewhat amused tone.

“Release me, and release Whumpee to me and I will leave you unharmed,” Youngest demanded, summoning all of the bravado they could. Even to them the words sounded weak though.

Claudio gave a hearty, deep laugh. Wiping a tear of amusement from the corner of his eye, he replied breathily “Ooh, an ultimatum, I’m terrified. Exactly what do you plan on doing when you can’t even move?”

Youngest just spat at Claudio as the man leaned in to wait for an answer to his mocking question. Youngest flashed a grin when it hit him in the face.

Claudio’s face flashed anger momentarily before returning to his bemused expression and laughter. “Feisty, aren’t we? I like it.” He nodded at a guard that then proceeded to taser Youngest.

The electricity surged through Youngest’s body. They jerked and thrashed, their body moving on its own.

“Let’s get one thing clear boy,” Claudio hissed dangerously, “you are in no position to make demands, and certainly in position to be making ultimatums. Now, where’s the rest of your team? If you’re here, the rest can’t be far.”

“Bite me! I’m not telling you a damn thing, you bastard!” Youngest snarled in defiance.

“Cut off their shirt,” Claudio ordered one of the guards, grabbing the taser from the other. They strode confidently to the others side of the table. He leaned against it, not quite directly in front of Youngest. “Listen here you little shit, you’re going to tell me what I want to know. It’s up to you how much damage you're going to sustain before then.”

 Claudio turned to the guard closest to him, nodding his head to the door, before following the guard out. “Bring me a dog,” Claudio ordered once out of earshot of his detainee.

It only took a few minutes before one of their trained attack dogs was brought to Claudio on a leash.

Claudio walked back into the interrogation room, the guard behind him had the dog in tow.

“Okay now where were we? Oh yes, ‘bite me’ I think was what you said. Say that again and Fido here will make it happen,” he gave the large Doberman a pat.

Youngest grew silent, eyes wide, flicking nervously to the muscular dog. They squirmed nervously.

“Now back to what I want know,” Claudio picked up the taser again. “Where are your friends hiding?”

Youngest flicked a glance over at the dog again, then back to Claudio. “Get fucked!” Youngest belted out, rashly. They did not want this man to know they were alone.

“Wrong answer,” Claudio chided menacingly.

The taser made contact with Youngest’s bare chest. Electricity tore through them once again. The restraints bit into their skin as their body contorted involuntarily with the current. Claudio hit them with it an additional two more times in quick succession, leaving Youngest panting for air. Their blood trickled out from under the restraints around their neck and wrists.

Before Youngest could get anything else out they were beginning unbound. Momentarily freed, they tried desperately to fight, but could not muster the strength. They were slammed to the table on their back, once again knocking the wind out of them.

Before they could recover Youngest found themselves being strapped to the table, once again completely immobile. They felt the legs of the table near their head be brought down. Youngest was now laying on an angle, their feet higher than their head. Claudio put a rag over their face, obscuring their sight.

“No, please! No! No!” Youngest screamed and struggled, realizing what was about to happen.

“You had your chance” Claudio sneered.

Youngest could hear the distinct scrape of a metal bucket against the floor. They braced themselves as best they, inhaling a deep breath.

Water began to pour over their nose and mouth. They almost instantly began to panic as the water burned going up their nose and into their throat. Their lungs began to ache then quickly burn. The breath they took in was forced out by the pain and fear. Instinctively they tried to gasp.

Gasping made it worse, so much worse. They gasped in water and wet rag, causing sheer unadulterated terror to engulf their body.

‘I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe!’  Panic rushed through Youngest’s veins. The panic and sheer terror intensified as they tried to thrash, to buck, to do anything, but they couldn’t move more than arch their back an inch off of the table.

Youngest had never in their entire life had ever felt terror so raw, so all encompassing. Their lungs burned, their throat burned, their nose burned. They couldn’t move, they couldn’t scream, they couldn’t BREATHE.

Finally, blessedly the stream stopped. Youngest gasped in air, more intensely aware of how precious it was. Their face was wet from tears and water as the rag was peeled away. They coughed and sputtered.

“Where is your team? Where is Leader?” Claudio asked, grasping Youngest’s cheek, drawing blood.

Youngest could do nothing but cough and pant. They couldn’t find their voice. Their eyes were still wide with fear.

“Tsk, no answer? Okay then,” Claudio laughed cruelly. He began to put the rag back over Youngest’s face.

“N-no, please, a-anything but that,” Youngest croaked out weakly, their throat raw. They started sobbing.

“Oh, so you have an answer for me?” Claudio cooed.

“I-I came alone,” they reluctantly admitted, finally cracking.

“Oh, you have, have you?” Claudio narrowed his eyes, causing Youngest to flinch and shudder. “I would say smart boy for fessing up, but it would seem you are incredibly stupid.” Claudio gave the still bound captive a condescending cheek pat, “you pissed yourself too, you’re stupid and a coward.”

Youngest laid there, exhausted and completely embarrassed. everything from last night and today hit them all at once. The fight with leader, the run, their capture. The physical and mental exhaustion from the torture made so that they could barely lift their head.

Claudio turned away from Youngest to the guards. “Strip them, then throw them in solitary confinement.” He instructed, then glanced back at his prisoner, “if he struggles, rough him up.” Claudio left Youngest alone and vulnerable with the guards and attack dog.

Claudio’s Parting words struck deep. Youngest had nothing left in them, just exhaustion, pain, and an unbearable shame that ran so much deeper than just pissing their pants. The only thing they could think was ‘will leader even come?’

Event Prompt Post

My Event Masterlist

@whumperofworlds, @whumpsandbumps, @pigeonwhumps

[eternalchaoschocolaterain]

The Most Powerful Waitress

Last one!

Chapter one: School's out

Chapter two: I'd hire me

Chapter three: No cure for me

Chapter four: Rinse and repeat

Chapter five: Patience

Chapter six: I don't know

@whatwouldvalerydo

No one knows

The next day Merula went back to Hogsmeade, to Zonko’s. Bilton did not look happy to see her when she entered the store and she held up her hands.

‘I want to apologize.’

His expression became milder. ‘I see. Go ahead.’

She fidgeted with the zipper on her leather jacket. Fuck, she hated apologizing, but it had to be done if she ever wanted to show her face her again. Which she did. ‘I’m sorry for storming out of the store yesterday. I shouldn’t have done that. I let my emotions get the best of me and I’m sorry for that.’

Bilton smiled. ‘I accept your apology, but I will never let you work here again.’

‘That’s fair.’

They said an awkward goodbye and Merula exhaled deeply when she stood outside. With that out of the way she could go back home, but she wanted to pick up a drink for Quinn. To celebrate her closing her first case. Not feeling comfortable going back to the Three Broomsticks, she went to Hog’s Head. Aberforth gave her a curious look when she got up to the bar.

‘Come to look for a job?’

Word travelled way too fast here. Merula crossed her arms. ‘No, I want some herbal liqueur.’ She’d decided Quinn was right, she didn’t have to work. Why not use her position to grant herself a break to think things over?

‘That’s too bad. But let me know if you change your mind. I heard about what happened with Rosmerta and I think you’d do well here.’

Stunned, Merula stared at him. Did he just offer her a job knowing what happened this week? Why would anyone want to offer her a job after this week? Not that it mattered. She’d do nothing for now. Absolutely nothing work-related that was.

Which is what she did the following days. She duelled with Quinn, went to the Dueling Club, practiced duelling at home, went to the theatre, watched the stars, studied new spells, read. Her days were full, although she spent most of the time by herself. With Ismelda abroad, Quinn was the only person she had actual conversations with and she did have a job.

As the days turned into weeks she started to get restless. Doing whatever she wanted was nice and all, but it got her nowhere. Writing letters to Ismelda got harder by the day.

I went duelling, again. Sat in the garden, again. Watched another play. Read another book.

Blah, blah, blah. There was nothing to it. Nothing she could be proud of, nothing to show off with. Sure she mastered some new spells and was a better dueller than ever, but who cared if she had no goal with it? She didn’t want to become a professional dueller. Professional duellers barely had a life outside of training and matches and she didn’t want to be consumed by anything ever again. Her obsession with the Vaults had almost cost her everything. There was no way she would risk that again. No, she needed something where she could excel, but where she could still have a live. Maybe even make a new friend. It’d be nice to have someone else but Quinn to talk to.

Frustration boiled up again. How had she made it to 18 without knowing what she wanted?! After finding the Cursed Vaults and defeating R this was supposed to be the easy part! She would get to live now and what did she do? Hang around doing whatever came to mind. Anything to keep the growing restlessness a bay. Everyone else was doing great. Even Quinn seemed to have settled in. They all had some reason to get up, some purpose. She had nothing.

Aberforth’s offer kept playing through her mind and she kept wondering what he wanted from her. After another day doing the same things by herself, she went to Hog’s Head. At the very least to stop the same questions from running through her mind.

The one-room inn looked grimy as ever and smelled like goats, which made her wonder if Aberforth was some secret goat breeder. There was no reason for this grimy inn to smell like goats otherwise. Aberforth stood behind the bar cleaning a goblet with his hands and a dirty rag instead of his wand, which explained why it didn’t get any cleaner.

‘Is the job still there?’

Aberforth stopped rubbing the goblet and looked up at her. ‘Sure.’

‘What kind of job would it be? I’m not really a server.’

‘I heard,’ he chuckled, ‘but I could use some help around here. I need a day off too every once in a while, but the patrons can be a lot. Not everyone can handle them. I think you could.’

‘So you do want me to be a server.’

‘I want you to make sure they pay before they leave and take any fights outside.’

She pondered the offer. It would give her something to do, some purpose, but at what cost? Working in this goat pen wasn’t exactly the dream job. On the other hand, she could do it. No one would leave without paying on her watch. Or dare to make a mess. She could excel in a small way, until she knew what she wanted. At worst she would get fired and at this point she didn’t know if she cared anymore.

‘Alright, but I don’t want to work every weekend.’ That would defeat the whole ‘having a life outside of work’ thing.

‘Fine,’ Aberforth shrugged. ‘Can you start tomorrow afternoon?’

‘Sure.’

The place didn’t look any better the next day. Or smell any better. She’d dressed for the occasion, with an old band shirt, old jeans and boots that were easily cleaned with a spell. Aberforth stood behind the bar again and he greeted her with a nod. She joined him and stared into the room. There were a few people, some hunched over the table whispering. Like they had never heard of the sound bubble charm. All of them had drinks, some had food.

‘Now what?’

‘We watch and make sure they don’t burn this place down.’

‘Why not? The place can’t get any worse.’

It slipped out before she could stop herself and she mentally prepared to be chastised, but Aberforth chuckled. Feeling a bit more relaxed she asked him about the place and before she knew it, they were chatting about the history of Hogsmeade.

As the afternoon turned into the evening the patrons got a bit rowdy and a fight did break out. A man and a woman rose from their seats, shouting, wands drawn. Aberforth nudged her to show him how she’d handle it. She stepped up to them, both were about two heads taller than her, and yelled.

‘Outside, both of you!’ They looked down at her for a moment. The man raised his eyebrow, as if to challenge her, and Merula drew her wand. ‘I said to take it outside.’

They laughed and she hit them with a jinx she’d taught herself a while ago for duelling. It pinned their arms behind their back. Then she hit them with in the back a few times, pushing them towards the door, until they left. They complained and spluttered, but couldn’t get their arms out of the grip she had on them. Other patrons pointed and laughed at them. Once they were outside, Merula went back to Aberforth.

‘Something like that?’

‘Something like that,’ he smirked.

She had to come between two more fights that evening and served a few drinks. Not that bad for a first night. The following days she broke up some more fights, scolded patrons for making messes and didn’t clean anything herself. For some reason the patrons liked her attitude and Aberforth seemed happy with her. She didn’t know what to think herself. The job itself was okay-ish, but she worked at Hog’s Head for Salazar’s sake! Way beneath a witch of her powers. She itched to do better, but still had no answer as to what she wanted.

On Friday Quinn brought over a group of her friends. She’d asked if she wanted to join and suggested coming to Hog’s Head when Merula said she couldn’t. Seeing them wouldn’t be the worst, so she’d shrugged. Aberforth would like the extra money and she supposed she could clean some goblets for the occasion. One for Quinn at least.

Tonks and Tulip were the first to arrive, claiming a large table. Tulip gave Merula a questioning look when she saw her standing behind the bar, but she ignored it. She’d realise soon enough. Shortly after Quinn came in, with Haywood and Egwu in tow. She grinned at her and waved and Merula returned the sentiment with a small smile.

‘Friends of yours?’ Aberforth asked.

Merula hummed a confirmation. Something like that.

‘Go join them, make sure they pay. We don’t do personal favours here.’

She let out a snort. Like that’s the reason, but she appreciated him acting like he didn’t do her a favour. The seat next to Quinn was still free and she took it. Under the table she gave her hand a squeeze.

‘You work here now?’ Haywood asked.

‘I’m not taking your order if that’s what you’re asking. You can go up to the bar and get it yourself. I’m not your servant.’

Tonks burst out laughing and Haywood turned red. ‘That’s not-’

‘We were talking about what we’ve all been up to.’ Tulip cut in.

She went on to explain how she and her toad Dennis were on an all-salmon diet?! Nothing but salmon, which sounded gross even to a fish lover like Merula. Haywood chimed in, talking about her wonderful, wonderful job. She had the best job ever. She was learning so many new things as apothecary in training. Of course, Tonks was doing great too, living her dream of becoming an auror. Training under none other than her hero, Mad-Eye Moody. Why that man was anyone’s hero was beyond Merula. She’d met him a few times dealing with R and if you asked her, he was unhinged. An accident waiting to happen. Egwu was happy working at Gladrags and working on his own fashion line in his free time. Quinn gushed about her co-workers, who were all just the nicest of the nicest. What lives they lived, no one questioned anything, had any trouble, or had gotten fired. No. Everything was perfect.

‘Well, congratulations to everyone for doing sooo well in life,’ Merula spat, unable to keep her frustrations to herself any longer. ‘Looks like everything is perfect for you all.’ The urge to get up and stomp off was as strong as ever, but she managed to hold back. She didn’t want a repeat from last time.

For a moment they all stared at her, then Egwu scowled.

‘I wish! I missed this month’s rent because I found the perfect fabric and forgot how much I had left. Making your own fashion line is expensive!’

‘But you’ve always made clothes. How did you not know it would be expensive?’ Merula asked. Besides, he knew how to calculate, right? That was just dumb.

‘I never had to pay rent and food and everything else on top of it!’

‘Tell me about it,’ Tonks said, ‘I hate paying rent. Why do I have to pay some rich arsehole for the right to have a roof over my head?’

Tulip made a face. ‘I wish I could afford rent. My experiments are driving my parents mad and I kind of destroyed the couch the other day. After creating toxic fumes in my bedroom.’

‘At least you get to do what you love,’ Quinn said. ‘I keep getting sent out to do things alone and my boss hates me. And he’s threatening to fire me if I don’t get my apparition license soon.’ Merula raised her eyebrows at her. This was news for her too. ‘He told me today.’

‘Ah fuck, I have to do that too!’ Tonks hair flashed blue and she put her face in her hands. ‘And if I keep failing stealth, I’ll never become an auror, but I can’t help that I keep knocking things over!’

Everyone focused on Haywood now, who had a sheepish look on her face. ‘I don’t want to be mean, but my roommate is, kind of a bit untidy. And she keeps using my stuff. I wouldn’t mind if she asked of course! But she doesn’t and when I find them, they’re dirty. I thought having a roommate would be fun, like living in the dorms had been, but it’s not.’ They all nodded and Merula looked at them, stunned by their confessions. ‘I thought I had everything figured out after graduating, but there’s so much I don’t know.’

‘It’s like they forgot to teach us how to live,’ Egwu said with an exasperated sigh. ‘I’m questioning everything I’ve learned.’

‘Just look at us! Some of Hogwarts best and brightest and we’re all struggling!’ Tonks said, her hair still blue.

‘It’s not just us,’ Haywood sighed. ‘I know Barnaby has been feeling extremely homesick for Hogwarts, McNully can’t grow in his job because he has issues networking.’ Merula sniggered. Of course he did. That’s what you got when you turned everything and everyone around you into statistics. ‘and Alanza hasn’t even found a place to live yet.’

‘Maybe they did forget to teach us some things at Hogwarts,’ Quinn pondered.

The rest nodded and named more things they wished they’d learned. Merula listened in awe. It wasn’t just her, they were all struggling. And judging by the things the others were saying she was already doing better than the lot of them. No roommate issues, no budget issues and currently, no work issues. Aberforth told her he wanted her to run the inn by herself for an afternoon coming week, see how it would go. He trusted her. Even if she didn’t want to work in this goat pen forever, it was far from the worst job she had in the past few weeks.

The next couple of days the conversation kept repeating itself in her mind. Maybe life after Hogwarts wasn’t the easy part, maybe they needed to learn that too. If so, she had already shown great improvement, unlike the others. She’d found a job that let her be herself and it didn’t look like she’d be fired anytime soon. Sure she still had no idea what she wanted, but she’d figure it out. She’d show herself some patience this time. For now she would stay at Hog’s Head and entertain herself by yelling at people. Life after Hogwarts would only get better, she’d make sure of it.

[nashusglasses]

folds in the gown

note: a writing exercise in pining/tension. the thing with writing Suguru is that he’s so…. Severe. As I say back home: gets mo ko?! You feel ? Like!! he's an enigma to me!! I hope I did him justice, please let me know ;_;!!!!!!!!

note 2: if you're coming from my kpop blog then you might have already read a similar jk fic. as u can see i love royalty AUs mixed with a little secrecy and private love affairs :3 listen to rosyln by bon iver if u wanna know the vibe !

PAIRING. bodyguard!geto/king's sister!reader SETTING. royalty au WARNINGS. suguru's POV. does catching someone naked count as voyeurism? regardless, suggestive content! SUMMARY. He shouldn't see you like this, but you make it hard to look away.

Dawn would break soon.

Suguru supposed he should be grateful. There had been no sightings of bandit squads, and the terrain of the roads were, at most, gratingly bumpy against the uneven wagon wheels. Two days of travel in relative peace. 

It was the heat that was getting him.

Even the horses teetered on the brink of exhaustion. Kento made the call earlier. No use in continuing if the damn horses keep whining like that, and they’d continued east at your suggestion. Kashino River. Suguru remembered those yearly trips to your grandparents’ estate. There was no need to follow wooden peg signs for directions. You just had to find the fallen tree on the river bank where lightning struck seven years ago, and you knew you were four hours away from the city. 

Sundown came with an oppressive orange heat, giving way to the cooler purple of the stars Suguru had waited all day for. The blackened stump of that tree came into view within thirty minutes.

The horses were fed. Canvas tents pegged into the nearest grass clearing, wagons stationed in a semi-circle to surround the fire pit. Suguru kept watch, Toge and Maki posted along the perimeter. 

Kento, tucked into sheepskin, was snoring. Suguru was almost disgusted by how comfortable he looked. Despite the chill of nightfall, he was still struggling to regulate his temperature. His leather jerkin discarded the second he’d dismounted off his horse, and Kento was still fully clothed.

Your sac of sheepskin was remarkably empty, however. 

Suguru stood. The bark of the tree under his ass leaving harsh indents, and he dusted the dirt and ants off. There was only one place you could be.

The river wasn’t far from where they’re stationed. The dense foliage of the trees teased Suguru with tiny bits of moonlight for guidance, and he tripped more than once on gnarled roots. He knew it wasn’t graceful for a skilled soldier like him, but he’d been irritable all day. Fuck elegance.

Where the forest spilled into the riverbank was where your clothes lay. The white fabric of your dress marred with splashes of mud, and Suguru furrowed his eyebrows. You were nowhere to be found.  

The water gave it away first. A little ripple, the surface tension taut with resistance. Then your wet head bobbing up to the surface, your quick inhale, and Suguru realized his shoulders were tight. Out of worry, first. Then came the sharp realization that you were, in fact, naked not even five steps away from him, and he almost rolled his eyes at your brazenness.

(He did, secretly, blush.)

“You should be sleeping, Your Grace,” he said in greeting.

The water lapped quietly where you trod. “You of all people should know I don’t take to heat well,” you responded. 

Of course he did. You would burst into complaints the second you felt it was too hot, and he’d been victim to your griping more than enough times. Today, the key phrase: almost there, Your Grace, followed by your groaning. 

He stared upwards. Wringing his hands, trying his hardest not to watch where your shoulders shone under the moon. Where your neck met your spine, wet. 

Suguru was not a strong man when it came to you.

“You didn’t tell anyone where you went.”

“But you knew where to find me.”

(His fingers twitched.) 

“You’re predictable,” he answered. “And in need of rest.”

“I’ll sleep in the wagon.” You turned to face him. He steeled his eyes. Willed himself into focus. Your eyes glittering with quiet mischief, rivulets of water sliding down your collarbone, your sternum–

The moon, shaped like a saucer. Orion’s Belt. Kento snoring like a bear. He kept his gaze up, diverted his train of thought. 

“The king will be upset knowing you wandered off by yourself.” 

“Satoru would have done the same thing.” Suguru knew this. If you were short-tempered, your brother was the worst kind of irascible. “And I have you here with me.”

He wondered how you did it. The way you molded him from hard lines into something softer. Malleable. He refused the smile tugging on his mouth. 

“I much prefer you somewhere close. And clothed,” he emphasized, even though everything in him screamed the opposite. 

Of course, you lived to defy.

“As you wish,” you agreed. 

You pressed your hands into the dirt, hauling yourself up from the dark water. Standing right in front of him, so boldly bare. Dripping. Suguru froze into place. His eyes and brain lagging into different rhythms–don’tlookdon’tlookdon’tlook–his gaze, greedy for a millisecond of shameless beauty–your hips, soft belly, brea–don’tlookdon’tlookdon’tlook–

For the first time today, he shivered. You wrung your hair. 

“Don’t tell me you’ve never seen a pair of tits before,” you drawled. You bent over to grab your dress, yanking the fabric over your head, your arms. “I’ll go dry by the fire.”

Suguru gulped, then nodded. You left.

.

.

.

He stared at the dirt, clumping into a dark brown where you stood. He dragged a frustrated hand on his hot cheeks, wondering what he did in his past life to suffer so terribly good like this.

[anonomouswriter-blr]

OuaT Peter Pan X OC: Cruel (part 1 maybe)

This is just for fun y'all. This isn't a fanfic page so PLEASE don't get attached to anything I post here, there will not be frequent updates (if any). I may drop this and never post again, it's all for kicks and giggles. Even still, let me know how I can write better. xoxo

Brief Synopsis - Loretta finds herself washed up on the shores of an unfamiliar island. The friend she arrived with is nowhere to be seen, but that doesn't mean she's alone on the island.

Story starts under cut.

It’s almost like static, the sounds Loretta heard as she roused from a state of numbness. With her head pounding and body aching and cold, she blinked her eyes, slowly adjusting to the harsh light against her face. Her blinking becomes more rapid as she attempts to remove pests from her eyes. It’s not dirt, but sand. A strong scent of sea veg fills her nostrils. She begins to recognize the familiar feeling of soft waves, washing over her, returning to the sea, then over her again, ending just below her cheeks. As the sand clears from her eyes, she becomes better adjusted to the light and can see her surroundings. She had washed up on the shore of some land. Is it an island? A mainland? Is there any civilization or is she stranded?

Stranded. Stranded would mean she’s alone, but she isn’t alone. As she sat up she remembered. “Noah Reed!?” she calls out into the white light reflecting off the beach, whipping her head around in each direction. He came with her on their wrecked ship, the boy she escaped that life of responsibility with, the one who showed her what magic and true freedom could be. The one who told her about the different worlds. But that storm had separated them. Is he even on the island? What island is she on? There are no strange fruits along the shoreline to indicate if she recognizes the island from stories or pictures. The vastness of the sea isn’t helping either. Loretta stumbles to her feet, taking in her surroundings. She kicks her legs in awkward discomfort as her now dirtied white skirt sticks to her calves. “Noah Reed! Noah Reed! Noa-,”

Loretta cuts herself off as she notices the unfamiliar boy in front of her. He stands unbothered on top of the rigged rocks, cocky, as if he owned the place. “You’re not Noah,” she states blankly.

“Do I look like Noah?” the boy asks.

“If you’re going to be like that I think I’d rather you leave me be,” he raises his eyebrows at that, then holds an entertained smile.

“What’s your name?”

“That’s none of your business. How about you tell me your name?”

“That’s none of your business,” Loretta frowns, eyebrows furrowing. She looks down, spots a stick a short ways away from her, then marches towards it. “What are you doing?”

“Drawing a line in the sand,” she says as she presses the tip of the stick deep into the wet sand and drags it in a long line, separating herself from the older boy. “You stay on that side and stop bothering me,”

With that order, she turns around sharply, wet hair whipping through the air, droplets smacking her in her own face, and marches in the opposite direction for the boy, looking about the sandy shore.

“What are you looking for?” Loretta makes a noise of alarm before scowling. The boy had appeared right before her eyes.

“I thought I told you to leave me alone?” The boy says nothing, waiting for an answer. She lets out a breath of frustration, but answers all the same. “My leather satchel. It can’t be far from here,”

She walks the shoreline, the boy continuing to follow, hoping from rock to rock. He really is fast. And annoying. Like a gnat that just won’t give.

“So how did you get here anyway?” he asks her. Buzz buzz buzzing like a gnat too. Can’t he just leave her alone?

“A shipwreck,” she states plainly.

“I don’t see any ship ‘round here,”

“Because it happened in the middle of the sea, that’s why. There was a bad storm. Now won’t you please leave me alone? I really need to find my bag,”

“You mean the one over there?” Across the shore there’s a tall rock, around its base is the arm band of her satchel, the bag itself fighting against the current of the shallow waves. Without a word she runs to it, leaving imprints of her feet in her wake, the sand gathering on the hem of her skirt. She pulls the satchel up and off the rock. Dropping to her knees, she opens it, digging through its contents. “What’s in this bag that’s so important anyway?”

“A spell book,” she says, lifting up a book with a finely detailed hard cover, eyes wide in excitement and awe. It may look worn from age and seawater, but the magic inside is just as crisp and powerful as if it were still new. “Let’s see if this is the island I seek,”She flips through the pages until seemingly finding a specific one, then places the book open on the sand, her stick from earlier lying crooked against the book's binding. The boy looks quizzically as he watches her over her shoulder. Again her arm plunges into the bag and she pulls out another item, this one a spinning wooden top. Whilst reading the open pages, she mumbles to herself, holding the top over the book. She stares down the item as if waiting for something to happen, but nothing does. “Curses! It isn’t working. I must be on the wrong island, if this even is one,”

“And what island might you be looking for?”

“A place with magic. To keep us young forever and conjure things one can only hope for in my land,” Loretta raises to her feet, looking round and defeated, not knowing what to do. “I don’t even know if he’s in this place with me. Gosh, I wish I could just have a map to find him!” almost in an instant, a drawn out parchment appears in the palm of her empty hand. She looks at it with wide eyes, taking it in both hands and feeling the paper to test its existence. On the piece is a mark of where she is, a large X, and a dotted trail connecting the two. “A map, exactly how I wished it. Wait…” she turns to the boy, “How did you appear in front of me so suddenly before,”

He simply shrugs. “Magic,” Loretta approaches him, looking him in the face.

“Tell me, what island is this?” he smiles at her, a mischievous smile.

“Why, this is Neverland, of course,” Loretta’s face widens with a grin, and she cheers, jumping in the air.

“We did it! We found it! Why didn’t you say something earlier! You enjoyed watching me act a fool, didn’t you?” her whole demeanor had changed. Before she held a posture of irritation towards the boy, but how she shared a fondness towards him. “Come, I still have to find Noah Reed,”

“You want me to come with you? Weren’t you just telling me to bug off before?”

“What, that? Oh, that wasn’t serious. Besides, you seem to know this island better than me. I could use your help. Now are you coming or not?” she flippantly asks, then runs towards the forests.

posted 14.Wed.Mar.2024

[unhingedpolycule]

Summoner AU Part 3 (Ghost x Soap x König)

Part 1 , Part 2, or read on Ao3

Horangi is one of the morally gray characters in the coven. He is not particularly nice to his entities, but he also doesn't treat them cruelly. Seemingly in it for the sexual pleasure, he keeps succubi who actually get to feed very regularly, working in his fetish club and being able to suck up all the sexual energy they need.

He has a bit of a gambling habit, but because of the exceptional services of his high class dancers and prostitutes, he has enough money to spend.

He himself acts as a Master. Leather uniform, whip and a cruel smile. His demeanor is generally cold and calculating, with a sharp edge to it that Soap can't quite place. He tried numerous times to befriend the man, offering up some of his knowledge but Horangi never seemed to be particularly interested.

In short: He is the kind of guy who would summon a Cenobite from hellraiser and top them, no questions asked.

At first glance, the coven assumes he is just in it for the monetary and sexual aspect. They assume him to be competent but not particularly dangerous. Valeria calls him a cheap, pleasure driven whore behind his back. Soap has no reason to suspect otherwise, after all, he only ever sees him discussing the proper handling of succubi and incubi, as well as adjacent topics.

When Ghost sits Johnny down one day, telling him about the immensely powerful presence that follows Horangi around, which even eclipses himself and König, he has to reconsider. The wraith warns Soap to be careful around him because it might be a tough fight if Horangi decides that the younger man might be a real threat to him.

So they leave him alone for the time being, telling themselves it's better this way. At least until Horangi approaches him after a meeting, and asks him to follow because he would like to discuss something.

Johnny is cautious, of course, but Ghost whispers in his ear that the man is most certainly alone, he can not feel another entity, neither object bound nor free. So he gives in to his curiosity, following the man towards a nearby park where they sit down on a bench, far away from the streetlights.

Horangi stays silent for a bit, his eyes fixed to the spot where König and Ghost have concealed themselves just mere inches behind Johnny.

“How do you do it, MacTavish?” He asks all of a sudden. “You have no one training you, you just came out of nowhere one day, playing around with our craft and suddenly the strength of your entities starts spiking.” His eyes flick up to König now, which he shouldn't be able to sense or see. “Do you have found new sources or are you just plain reckless? Those things can bite your neck clean off if you are not careful.”

Soap just grins and asks Ghost and König to show themselves, using please and thank you, being very gentle when König doesn't feel like it. Ghost appears, hunched over Soap behind the bench, obviously protective, shadows flicking around him.

Horangi doesn't even flinch, a smug look on his face. “See what I mean, MacTavish? You don't have them under control. They do what they want.” He only concentrates on Soap and waits for an answer, even though the man stops talking for a minute.

When Johnny breaks the silence, his voice is slightly sharper “You say I lack control over them. But you didn't even greet him, when he elected to show himself. They are so much stronger and smarter than we are and you treat him like an inanimate object.”

Horangi is silent for a bit, eyes flicking up at Ghost's ember eyes that watch his every move. “You do not greet a dog, you greet its owner. The dog doesn't care.”

Soap crosses his arms. “You asked me how I do it. That's how. They can leave whenever they feel like it. They can go and do what they want. I don't see myself as their master and in exchange, they respect me as their equal. Sure, you get more obedience, but I can tell you that Ghost doesn't respect you at all. If you were to bind him, he would try everything to escape and kill you. Don't you think their respect and consent is valuable not as a means to an end, but has inherent value?”

Horangi shifts in his seat, face still hard as stone. “But what do you get out of it?”

“Well, aside from the warm and fuzzy feeling of being a decent person, you get entities that actually want to help you and talk to you. They tell you things you don't even ask for. And they offer you genuine affection and friendship.” At the last words, Ghost bows down further, placing his chin on the crown of Soap's head while closing his eyes for a few seconds.

It takes some time for Horangi to slowly stand up and step forward, extending his hand to the shadow. “Greetings, wraith.” His posture is stiff and uncomfortable. “I apologize for my disrespect to both of you. I think you know my name by now, what am I to call you?”

Ghost is clearly amused at this, grinning with his pearly, white teeth bared, grasping Horangi's hand in his own in a bone crushing shake, letting the air vibrate around them with a earth shattering rumble as he speaks his call sign in his native tongue. No need to give the stranger any leverage over him. The disrespect is palatable.

When the man tries to hold onto his almost comical etiquette with a “I beg your pardon?” Whispered through anger gritted teeth, Ghost just opens his jaw wider, giving him a good look into the burning embers of his throat. Soap knows what is coming next, can see the grin in front of his inner eye.

“Then beg, mortal.”

And suddenly, Horangi just starts laughing, his cold, sharp display of amusement surprisingly earnest…

~Corr

[readercognito]

A Nearly Sleepless Night

Modern!Sherlock x Reader

(yes, it's got a truth potion plot point.)

(Y/n)’s peaceful slumber was rudely interrupted by the telltale ringing of her cell. Blindly reaching to the charging device she barely managed to get a look at the caller ID before she groggily slapped it against her ear. 

“What on earth are doing calling me at-” I lift up the phone, eyes tearing up due to how bright my screen was. “-2 A.M. John?” I mumbled into the receiver.

“It’s Sherlock, he needs you.” Johns voice crackled over the line, a worried twinge entering his voice at the last two syllables.

But I was too fogged with sleep to notice “Unless he’s dying, he doesn’t need me.”

“I’m really sorry to wake you up (Y/n). But he won't. Stop. TALKING. I'm at my wit's end! He was out on some mad errand and now he's at my home and divulging anything that's come across his mind!" Said John.

"Oh, dear." I said the claws of sleep slowly loosening it's grasp on me. "Tell me poor Mary wasn't anywhere near him…"

"No, thank God. She's asleep, but he's getting louder, and in all honesty I don't know how long this will last." John that thread of worry turning into a full blown tapestry.

I sighed, knowing just what I was going to sacrifice. Just what my dear old friend was alluding to. But I had to give a good night's rest one last try.

"John, do you love me?" I asked pitifully.

"Not that much I'm afraid." Said John, an air of relief in his teasing tone.

I huffed "Fine. Bring the twat over! You owe me a great deal for this."

And just like that, my night was sleepless.

John brought over Sherlock in less than ten minutes after the call. He was unceremoniously shoved into my home without another word, John left. That is where the fun began.

“Sit down on the couch Sherlock so I can look you over”, I commanded.

And like a puppet on strings he rather oddly walked over to my couch and sat down. I shook it off as soreness from a beating he surely had gotten.

His button up and jeans were wrinkled and dirty. Any semblance of his usual leather jacket was nowhere to be seen. He had a split lip, and what looked like a developing shiner. His hair was ruffled and looked a little burnt. All in all he looked like hell. But what really startled me is what came out of his mouth next.

"You look very pretty when you're concerned. About me that is." He blurted.

To be perfectly honest he looked as surprised as I felt. Afterwards he rather promptly (and childishly) slapped his hand over his mouth. A series of muffled mumbles following.

"Aside from that Sherlock, what on earth happened to you? I thought you weren't taking that case with the mob ties." I said, a little disappointed he went against my back for this.

"I lied, I didn't want you getting involved. I can’t stand seeing you-” And back went the hand, a slight blush painting his pale freckled face.

I was getting a little upset by all the mystery right about now. “Shirley if you don’t explain yourself I will tie your hands together behind you! Now stop muffling yourself, and speak to me clearly!”

Then Sherlock did something I really wasn't expecting…

He did exactly as I said.

Sherlock's hand shot from his mouth as if burnt by a hot coal. 

“I can’t stand it when you get hurt. Especially when it’s because of a case I’m on.” He blurted the faint pink of his cheeks starting to redden.

I was shocked to say the very least. Only able to mumble a faint “what?” In my own shock, failing to notice Sherlock desperately trying to cover his mouth. His hand only hovering in front of his mouth. Honestly with the way he treated me most of the time. Well lets just say near constant aloofness, and dismissal of one's general opinions and ideas isn’t really grounds for growing affection. But then again, more recently he’s had moments of a strange gentleness and being unusually thoughtful.

Just last week he had fixed my beloved locket when it broke. It was honestly the most thoughtful thing I had ever seen him do. Which got me thinking thoroughly of our time together, and how protective he’s gotten over the last four months. Getting less and less forthcoming with his exploits, trying to keep me out of entire cases on occasion! Which honestly is more infuriating than anything else, he did hire me to write about his exploits after all. (Since he wasn’t really fond of the paper constantly getting details wrong.) 

I looked at Sherlock, he was unusually quiet and rather fidgety. He sent an nervous glance, and though he was trying to hide it he looked very tense. But strangely still on the exact spot of the couch that he sat on when I asked him to sit on my couch.

Sherlock being the sort of person he is, usually paces or shifts from chair to chair, often room to room. Usually by this point in the conversation we would be in the kitchen or even my bathroom by this point. But here he was still as a statue, on my couch. 

“Sherlock, please don't keep secrets from me. You look like you’ve been through the ringer, and you’re acting weird... Well, weirder than usual.” I said sitting next to him. 

Sherlock winced, then spouted.

“It wasn’t just tied to the mob. It was a trap, I was so stupid! How did I not see something so obvious!” Sherlock puts his head in his hands. Looking defeated and frustrated.

I put my hand on his shoulder, in an effort to comfort him. I knew he hated feeling outdone, or worse out thought…

"Why don't you tell me what happened?" I asked softly.

It turns out that the “missing” man wasn't missing at all. He was a murder victim of The Vipers, a new and ruthless gang. The police had been trying to find the gang’s hideout but everytime they got close the Vipers moved and the police had to start from square one. Sherlock had been asked to be brought in, but refused because the case didn’t sound “exciting enough”. He thought that the mysterious murder he took up was related to the Vipers. He got more interested and even found the Vipers Current hideout. Unfortunately, that was exactly what the Vipers had wanted. After a heated scuffle, he was knocked out, and when he had come too there was the Viper leader. Gage Boyd, spent ten years in the clink for the murders of three fifteen year-old girls, though the police (and Sherlock, who had actually put him behind bars) believed there were more. 

Gage bragged about the supposed "obedience serum" saying that he would make Sherlock tell all that he knew. Which Sherlock being himself, meant an awful lot.

"Is Steven safe?" I asked, worried for our mutual friend.

"Yes, his cover is intact. I was able to make my escape before any truly important information was wrestled from me. But it seems that their 'serum' has quite a long lasting effect…" said Sherlock, his hands fidgeting with the remnants of this shirt.

"Oh, so what you said…" I trailed off.

"Yes, it was due to the serum." He said. Refusing to look me in the eye.

"Sherlock, what were you saying before about me going on cases?" I asked, sitting next to him.

The redness in his cheeks returned full force and fidgeting but seemingly unable to move from his spot on the couch. 

"W-well with what ha-happened with the last case we were on I-" He stopped for a moment, seeming to reminisce…

Ah yes the last case I was on… let's just say some nasty men got a little too close to me for comfort.

"I don't want to have you in that situation ever again. I-I don't know what I'd do with myself if you really got hurt. I lo- I love you too much for that…" he said pulling at his shirt collar, as if trying to hide the furious blush creeping down his neck.

I'm not going to lie, I was shocked. Not in a bad way mind you, because I had been harboring feelings for the scruffy detective for the last two months.

"You might not believe me Sherlock," I said then grabbed his hand, shocking him out of his crimson stupor. "But I might just love you too…"

Sherlock turned to me, a soft smile adorning his face. I nearly recoiled, this was an expression I haven’t ever seen my shrewd detective wear. But honestly it was something I could get used to. 

I then remembered what time it was, and my first "order".

"Oh Sherlock I'm so sorry! You can move however you like now… and you don't have to tell me anything you don't want to. I'm so sorry for forcing any of this on you..."

Sherlock stood slowly, as if getting used to having legs all over again. After getting used to gravity again, he turned and fixed me with the softest look I had ever seen from him.

"It's… alright. I don't blame you for any of it, you didn't-couldn't have possibly known of my condition. In all honesty, I had thought the toxin would have worn off by now…" he said that defeated tone creeping in towards the end.

"Now Sher-" I was about to say 'now Sherlock don't worry about that' but to avoid ordering him around. I said "Whatever happens we'll get through this."

And so ends a nearly sleepless night.

[asexualswitch]

Kink Club - Part 1

(Based on the dream I just woke up from)

The first rule of Kink Club is that you don't talk about Kink Club.

The second rule of Kink Club is that you don't talk about Kink Club - especially at work.

The night starts like any other night on the town. There's nowhere to fucking park. After a good twenty minutes of circling downtown, you find a lot with a few empty spaces. You park the car, pay on the app, and make your way to your destination.

You stand in line at the Castle, the infamous night club of Ybor City. They are having one of their theme nights so anyone in costume is admitted for free.

Strapped for cash as you are, you came dressed for the event: a black leather harness and skirt (with no panties underneath). You offer to prove the no panties part to the bouncer, but he politely declines.

You make your way up to the top floor of the Castle and head straight for the bar. If you are going to do what you came here to do, you'd need some alcohol in you first. You order a Malibu & Pineapple, your classic clubbing order to due its ability to calm your nerves but not get you wasted.

There is already a crowd gathered to watch the public flogging, but exhibitionism isn't what you're here for tonight.

Drink in hand, you head up the steps into one of the private rooms. There are four private rooms available to be booked for events and you'd read about one of these events on the Castle's website and decided to attend. It's been too long since you've had a proper sexcapade. You used to be so much braver in your college days.

Tonight's private event? Free medical examinations by a certainly unlicensed medical staff.

You're greeted by a man in light blue scrub pants and a form-fitting black v-neck shirt.

"Are you here for the event," he says, a crooked smile creeping up his face.

You nod, your words escaping you and blush heating up your face.

"All patients must sign in at the front desk," he says pointing his head behind him.

There's a woman in light blue scrubs sitting behind a portable table. She smiles as you approach her and she asks, "Can I see some ID?"

You fumble through your clutch for a moment before procuring your ID and handing it over. You catch a glance at the photo before doing so and giggle at the thought of how many times your hair has changed color since then. If the woman notices, she doesn't say anything.

"Everything appears to be in order here," she says while handing back the ID. "Do you work tomorrow?"

"No, ma'am."

"Excellent. Are you available to stay overnight?"

"Oh, uh, I didn't bring any extra clothes."

"No worries. A gown and bed will be provided for you. Follow me to the back please."

As she stands, you notice that she isn't wearing any pants. He scrub shirt is just barely long enough to cover her front but as she turns around you have full view of her perfect peachy ass.

It appears that she is also not wearing any underwear and this knowledge makes you blush even more.

You'd always favored women over men, despite being open to anything. Women were just so...beautiful.

While most men looked like they just crawled out of a dumpster.

The woman with no pants leads you to the back part of the room, which had been previously blocked from view by a curtain divider.

There were six beds in the room that weren't the traditional hospital beds you'd been expecting. Instead of railings on each side, there were, uh, cages underneath.

There were two other occupants in the room, one on top a bed and one underneath his bed in the cage. You sit down on the bed next to the caged man and soon realize that you recognize him as one of your top salesman at work.

You quickly look away and hope that he hasn't seen you.

The woman pulls a gown down off the rack and hands it to you.

"Please undress and put this on. Leave your clothes neatly folded at the end of your bed and we will set them aside from you."

"Is there somewhere more, uh, private where I can change?"

"Oh hon," the woman says. "There's no more privacy here."

She leaves this side of the room and returns to her desk.

Before undressing, I look over at the patient on the bed who appears to be asleep. They have a surgical bouffant cap covering their hair and an anesthesia mask covering their face.

This patient must be here for one of the overnight stays.

You sit down on the bed and untie your combat boots. You place the pair at the end of your bed as instructed.

You leave your socks on, knowing that they'll match the costume. You had several pairs of hospital socks at home and had chosen to wear your red pair tonight.

You shimmy out of your leather skirt and flinch as you feel the cool air hit your privates. You fold the skirt as best you can, though you've never been skilled at folding. You deem the harness unfoldable and set it atop the skirt.

Before you can put the gown on, you hear a familiar voice say "Never expected to see you here."

You grimace and look down to the cage where Chad, your coworker, has a limb secured to each corner.

"I don't do this very often," you say. "Actually, this is my first time doing something like this. I used to be more adventurous with my partners but I've never done something this public."

"Well," Chad says. "You're definitely in for a fun night."

[midwest-spidey]

Sickness of the Heart (Short Story)

Ophelia first met Harriet at a Sunday sermon. Harriet hid in the back of the congregation with a deep scowl and the most beautiful eyes Ophelia had seen. Three years later, when they entered high school, Ophelia swore to follow her parents’ lectures about why people like Harriet were sick.

Ophelia’s love fell into Harriet’s hands despite her parents' caution. The two found comfort at the abandoned school grounds after classes and made sure to keep their interactions tucked away from judging eyes. Then, high school concluded, and Ophelia was tasked with choosing the next path — one where she settled down before she hit twenty. The path didn't include Harriet.

After graduation, she found herself on the football field bleachers. Ozone stung her nose as she stared forward; her head rested in her hands. The cold metal bit her skin, and the wind turned her exposed legs into goosebumps.

Harriet stood and gazed down at her through black bangs. Her platform boot bounced on the metal which shook it like an earthquake. “I don’t get it.” 

Ophelia’s hands trembled. “There isn’t much to get, Har. I can’t go.” She smoothed her skirt. 

Thunder rolled in the distance. Twister season was well on its way in Nebraska. Harriet wanted the two of them to flee east for college, to New York, before the weather turned sour. It meant a fresh start. She shrugged off her leather jacket and slung it over her shoulder. “You don’t have any sense.”

Ophelia bit her lip until the tang of iron spread across her tongue. Birds chirped with caution of the incoming storm. She wanted to heed them.

Harriet huffed out a sigh. “This place will kill you.”

Ophelia hid behind her golden curls. “Harriet, this is all I’ve ever had. I can’t just give that up.” The clouds darkened to a charcoal gray. Her cardigan dampened and clung to her skin.

Harriet’s gaze burned Ophelia’s cheek. “What do you have? A family that hates the real you? A congregation that says you’ll burn?”

The sweet, earthy smell of the storm drew closer. “My family loves the person they see.” God had gifted her parents to her, and it was her duty to accept His offerings.

Harriet’s family was worse than Ophelia’s. A year ago, Harriet presented her hacked hair with a grin after her parents told her she couldn’t cut it. Her father’s words tore into her skin when she uttered her true self. Her mother sobbed and prayed that the Lord would cure her daughter. Harriet assumed Ophelia’s parents would do the same.

They couldn’t unleash fury if Ophelia kept her lips sealed. The secret of her love hid deep in her chest – veiled behind Gospel choirs and rosaries. She risked a peek up.

Harriet’s lips drew together into a thin line. 

Ophelia’s eyes jumped back to the football field. The bleachers grew hot as coal. Bolts of lightning shot through the air, and innocent bushes and trees prepared for destruction. “I’m not sick, Harriet.”

“Right, but I am.” Harriet shook her head and scoffed. “That’s what your loving God says.”

Ophelia yearned to disagree, to sputter that Harriet was anything but. She was an odd perfection. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth; it silenced her. Drops of heavy rain pattered across the stands, ting after ting. “I’m going to marry a nice guy one day. I’ll be happy.”

“You won’t be.” The rain picked up from a drizzle to a deluge. 

Ophelia ignored her words and said, “I’ll have children and live in a house in town. I’ll follow His plan.”

Harriet laughed. “God, Lia, you are sick.” She didn’t hesitate as she left. Her boots mixed with the claps of thunder. She paused at the last step with fallen shoulders. “Why can’t you love Him and me?”

The rain scorched Ophelia as Harriet stalked off into the storm. Ophelia hunkered down in the town that despised them.

*****

Ophelia scoured the streets the next morning, but Harriet was nowhere to be found. Ophelia dragged herself to church. She needed solace, the kind that came from the confessional booth. Cracks laced the leather of the seat, and the wooden lattice that separated her from the priest bowed. She rubbed her sweaty palms against her skirt. “Forgive me Father for I have sinned.” She could just make out the man’s features.

He fiddled with the crucifix that hung around his neck. “What sins do you wish to tell our Lord?”

“I-” A flush rose in her cheeks. She couldn’t let the man know what she was. Nobody in down was meant to know. “I’ve had improper thoughts.” 

The priest shuffled in his seat. “I see, and what is the subject of these improper thoughts, my child?”

Harriet’s name sat on her tongue.

The silence alerted the priest. “Remember this is a confidential space. Only the Lord and I are listening.” 

She stared down at her lap with knitted brows. “They’re about women, Father.” 

“I see.” The priest’s head fell. “And why do you feel the need to confess this?” 

Ophelia’s breath hitched. “It’s a sin.” Her sickness was a sin of the worst kind.

The priest let out a sigh. “What I’m about to tell you need not be repeated. Is that understood?”

Ophelia’s face pinched in confusion, but she nodded.

“I knew a man once – in Rhode Island – who believed he suffered a similar affliction as you. He came to me and begged to make the thoughts stop so that he would not be an abomination.” He paused for a moment. “I told him to cast the thoughts away or else he would forever be a sinner.” His voice faltered. “Two weeks later I was holding his funeral mass.” He pressed a hand to his chest. “Your love is not the sin I once believed it to be. Love is the Lord’s greatest gift.”

Ophelia sat in silence, jaw slack. The cushion of the booth felt soft under her. Harriet’s image blossomed in her mind. The two stargazed on the football field, and the night air chilled their bones.

Ophelia’s body sang with new hope. “Thank you, Father.” 

She stumbled out of the booth and through the church; she passed a dozen pews. She paused for a moment to peer at the altar. A cross hung above it, wooden and large. The color matched Harriet’s boots.

She broke out into the cool air of the day. Cars sped down the main road, and mud squelched under their tires. Water seeped through her shoes, but Ophelia strode forward. 

The place she had grown up sped by: the corner store where she bought Harriet gumballs, the drive-in theater where they snuck into the back, the bowling alley where Harriet worked a summer, the park where they frequented when the moon rose, and the football field where Ophelia learned what it felt like to kiss someone who peered into her sick-filled chest and adored it.

A voice called her out of town – deep past the high school and even farther. Ophelia didn’t have a proper plan for the path ahead, but her heart knew there was a life out there that was hers.

[youwouldntlietopapa]

Paperwork and Patience

Rating: 18+

Features: Copia x OC

Word count: 1078

Note: Romantic, slightly spicy, overtime in the office with Copia and Izzy.

____________________________________________________

“Almost finished.” Copia said gently. 

Izzy hummed her acknowledgement and kissed his neck, just below his ear. Her head rested on his shoulder, eyes heavy lidded. One arm wrapped around behind his back and the other on his other shoulder where she could comb her fingers through this thick brown hair, teasing the streaks of grey at his temples. Pressed up against his chest and focusing on him, and her own breathing. Slow and steady. In and out. Smiling to herself when she’d noticed that he was breathing with her. 

“No rush.” She kissed his warm skin again, breathing in the familiar smell of his cologne, coffee, leather, old books, and the cigarette he thought she didn’t know about. This was home. More than anywhere else in the world. Right there, with him, where she belonged. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be.”

Copia’s hand rested on her lower back, holding her there with a soft, steady pressure. Grounding and comforting. His other hand, busy working through a stack of paperwork, all urgently needed according to everyone who had left the work to him. Izzy might have disagreed, but she wasn’t Sister or Bishop or anyone who had any say. All she could do, really, was be there with him. Make the tedium less oppressive. 

He let out a breathy moan and sparks crackled along all of her nerves, struggling to keep still. “Your fingers, amore… they will be the death of me.”

“Should I stop?” She asked with a smirk. 

The hand on her back pressed with ever so slightly more force. “Not for anything, Isobella.”

Her nose nuzzled against his jaw and he could feel her smile when her lips followed the same trail. His attention wandering from his work, Copia turned his head and buried his face in her hair. Giving himself a moment to lose himself in her. His Isobel. Letting himself focus on the feel of her there. Shifting just a little in his seat, answered by a soft whimper from her and a tighter hold. 

“Cope…” She breathed, hot breath against his neck. “The sooner you finish, the sooner we can get out of here.”

“Who says we leave here as soon as I am done this work?” There was mischief in his voice. 

Her teeth softly teased his earlobe. “Oh, is that how it is?” 

“You think I make it all the way to bed? I don’t even make it to the couch there.” He nodded to the old leather loveseat stuffed in the corner of his office. 

“My poor, sweet Copia.” Izzy’s fingers scratched over his scalp. “I would never torture you like that. Never.”

He was lost. He knew it. Well and truly lost. Only giving the last few papers before him a quick glance before deciding that nothing in the world was that important. Her nails sent a shiver down his spine and his name on her lips. Lucifer be merciful… It was so much more than that. Had there ever been anyone so much a part of his own soul? Anyone he could be so open with? That he could share this intimacy with and know, completely, that he was as safe and loved as she was with him? 

“Only a few more papers.” She offered, trying to sound encouraging when all she really wanted was him. The rest could burn as far as she cared. 

“To hell with them.” His voice came out husky and desperate. “They wait for tomorrow or Bishop Robertson does his own shit work.” 

“Copia…” 

He couldn’t stop it. He wouldn’t have even if he could have. It was too much, hearing her say his name on the edge of whining, of begging. Copia’s cock kicked, buried deep inside her, and Izzy’s moan came as an immediate response. All of her resolve to hold still, to wait, to breathe and stay calm cracked and started to crumble. Straddling his lap and ignoring the pins and needles in her feet while her knees hugged his hips. Already anticipating the rugburn the scratchy red wool of his cassock will leave. Clenching around him, making him gasp, dropping his forehead to her shoulder. His hands flying to her hips and gripping her tightly. Keeping her still just a little longer. 

Copia lifted his head and she cupped his face in her hands, kissing him deeply. Breathing with him.Tasting the familiar, bitter paint on his upper lip as her tongue rolled against his. Pressing her forehead against his and staring back into his mismatched eyes. 

“I love you, Cope. With all my heart. With everything I am.”

His grip on her hips softened, not wanting to hold back any more. 

“I love you, Izzy. More than life itself.”

She lifted her hips slowly, smiling when his breath caught in his throat. Moaning deeply, shamelessly, as she settled back down onto him. Following the urging of his hands and riding him, unhurried, letting the rest of the world fall away. All there was, all there needed to be, was him. And he stared back at her with an intensity that set fire to her soul.

Already worked up, it was never going to last long. They both knew and neither cared. The build up, the closeness, and the intimacy were the point. The release was only the conclusion. The first of the evening. 

His fingers digging into her hips and her hands in his hair. Pressed so close they felt like one. Breathing hard and heavy. The deep, guttural sound muffled by her shoulder as he pulled her down hard on himself, kicking, and the warmth of him spreading inside her. Dragging her over the edge with him. His name dripping from her lips obscenely. 

Izzy hissed. Her whine turning half into a sob when he pulled himself free. The loss of him ached, his seed and her own slick trickling down her thighs. She fell back against his chest, limp and trying to calm her heart. Shaking while the tension and effort slipped away. His arms wrapped around her, holding her tightly against the pounding of his own heart. Combing back her hair. 

For a long moment they sat in silence. Izzy finally moving to kiss his neck, along his jaw. 

“I think your cassock may need cleaning.” She smiled almost drunkenly. 

Copia snorted and kissed her. “I tell them to burn it if they want. I need this more than any cassock in the entire Ministry.”

[penny00dreadful]

Self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 🖤

Oh okay fun! Thank you for the ask bestie. 🖤

Crossroads (Tumblr/AO3)

Steve has loved Eddie for centuries. For millennia. In every lifetime Steve remembers. And in every lifetime Eddie doesn't.

This fic was my baby for the longest of long times. I'm a bit of a history/classical studies nerd and I just couldn't get the thought of this kind of centuries long epic and devastating love story out of my head. I had originally planned to hint that our Steddie boys had influenced some of the most famous love stories in history but couldn't really find an appropriate place to put it. But I love this story and I put an awful lot of myself into it. 🖤

2. Safety (Tumblr/AO3)

There's a guy following Robin home. But just as she was ready to go into a full blown panic, she sees them. Long hair, chains, leather, denim, tartan, rings, tattoos, subculture. Flag patches and pins, her people. So she jumps into the middle, hoping, praying they'll go with it.

This fic... Oh man I could not have predicted the response to this fic. People adore it and I adore them for it. I think it's because there's such a solid theme of queer solidarity here. And people being people being good. Just helping each other out when in need. Understanding what it's like when you're part of a marginalised group and looking out for each other. It's such a comfort fic for me. 🖤

3. 37 Years To The Day (Tumblr/AO3)

Eddie, Steve, Robin and Nancy have just jumped through a lake into the Upside-Down when two mysterious and chaotic adults appear out of nowhere by Skull Rock. But why do they look so familiar?

This was one of the fics I had a vauge concept for a while but didn't start working on it until the anniversary of Eddie's "death day" (never happened) started to approach and I thought it could be a pretty cool idea. Plus I love writing Eddie and Robin being chaos creatures together.

4. Somebody To Love (Tumblr/AO3)

Personal assistant Steve and Rockstar Eddie. Unrequited love but not really. Mutual pining ALL OVER the place. And a lot of self care for both our boys.

It seems like all my most popular fics are the ones I came up with on a whim and not the ones I've been marinating on for months. 😅 Which is very interesting. But this one I thought it could be such a good opportunity for some terrible angst if Steve was right there watching Eddie hook up and discard people right in front of his face with no idea and it looks like I was right. 🤣

5. Family Commitments (AO3)

Eddie and Robin crash a family wedding Steve has to go to.

I love this one so much. It feels so soft and so comfortable to me like a well worn top. I just love writing sillies being besties. I love seeing the casual intimacy of a long term established relationship. I love a snapshot of life. I love the comfort of long term friendships. I love people who are so sure of their places in other peoples lives.

I just love it. 🖤

[tinyboxxtink]

Summer of '87 [Chapter 2]

So i think i'm just gonna start over with the tag list. So if you would like to be added, please let me know!!

Also i know some of the dates may be screwed up, but suspenson of disbelief okay? Creative liberty and all that. Also, I decided the "Unknown Freak" is now known as Quentin.

Part 3

Okay i think that's it, enjoy!

oh also, If you enjoyed this chapter, please think about sending me a coffee. My um, current situation is here.

Also if you missed part 1 here it is

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

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

“....But i don’t understand. If you have to get home, you’ll still go through---” Your friend Carissa was trying to figure out your plan.

You had told them you had an emergency at home and had to drive straight there, therefore unable to drop them off.

“Look guys come on, just take the money,” You handed her the wad of cash. 

“OOOOH!!!!! Let’s go buy shots!!” your friend Amy squealed.

“NO,” you said sternly, now hesitant about this plan.

“You guys are gonna go upstairs, sleep it off, then go to the train station in the morning,” 

“Buzzkill,” your friend Stacy whined.

“Alright now go,” You instructed them to get out of your Taxi in front of their hotel. 

Once you were sure they were inside, you asked the driver to drop you off where the band had said to meet them. 

Your friends would be fine, right?

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

You arrived at the bus to find only Eddie standing outside, smoking a cigarette. His eyes lit up when he saw you get out of the car with your luggage in tow.

“Hey!” he said excitedly as he jogged towards you. “I was beginning to think you changed your mind,” 

“Nah,” you nodded calmly, secretly freaking out. “Just had to get the girls to bed,”

“Ah. Right,” he nodded himself as he stomped out his cigarette to take your bags.

“No roadies,” he chuckled.

“Oh you don’t have to do that--” 

“Sure I do,” he insisted. “You saved my life earlier.”

“I think that’s a bit of an over exaggeration,”

“So you’re saying your friends wouldn’t have killed me trying to get a piece of this?” he wiggled his body suggestively with a small smirk. 

“You have a point,” you giggled, feeling your cheeks turn red. 

“Hey if you two are done flirting, we need to go!” Gareth’s voice suddenly came out of nowhere. 

You and Eddie turned to see him hanging out the bus window. Eddie shot him a glare and threw him the bird while you turned even more red.

“Well I guess we better go,” He looked at you sheepishly while turning a bit pink himself. 

“Yup,” you nodded awkwardly as you followed him onto the bus. He tossed your bags on the overhead racks as you walked into the bus.

It was amazing. Long leather benches on each side, a seemingly endless hallway. A full bar in between with mirrors on the ceiling. 

“Let’s go back here, away from the peanut gallery,” Eddie suggested, noticing the already suggestive looks from his band mates.

You followed him towards the back where there were two booths on one side and a couch against the wall of the other. You chose the couch to sit on, where Eddie joined you. 

“So,” he immediately began to play with a string on his jeans. 

“So…” you matched his nervous energy looking around the bus awkwardly. You were afraid if you looked right into his eyes at the moment you might melt into the couch.

“So how is it we don’t know each other?” Eddie asked flat out.

“Well, first of all i’m pretty sure I’m a few years older than you,” you giggled slightly.

“What? No way.”  he said rather offensively.

“I’m 24, and you are…?” you looked at him expectantly.

“I’m 22, you’re not that much older--” he said in a pouty tone.

“Second of all, I didn’t really grow up in Hawkins.” you cut him off.

“WHAT?” Eddie began to panic. Was this a setup? Had he been bamboozled by a pair of pretty eyes and a great ass?  And, would that be so bad?

“So why did you go along--?”

“I mean technically i did,” you saw that look in his eyes. “I just uh…i grew up in….Brooke Heights.”

“Oh I see,” he rolled his eyes. 

Brooke Heights was a part of Hawkins, technically speaking. However, it was more of the “right side of the tracks' ', gated community type. They had their own shopping, their own schools, even a “mayor” type that was much more “Elite” than Hawkin’s sleazy mayor. Eddie knew the type of people that lived there. The Harrington’s lived there, and god knows how much of a dick Steve Harrington used to be. 

“So you went to Carmel,” He said more as a statement than a question. 

“Yes,” you nodded while playing with your hands in your lap. You could tell he was getting more and more annoyed by the revelation of your origin. 

“Well color me shocked a princess like you agreed to slum it with a silly metal band,” he ran his fingers through his hair before taking another cigarette from his pocket.

“Hey, that’s not true.” You assured him. “Christ Almighty Eddie you just went on a national tour with girls throwing their panties at you every night. I’d hardly call that a ‘silly metal band’,”

“How do you even know that?” He raised an eyebrow. “Did you toss me some panties last night, Princess?” he smirked.

Jesus, there was the cocky bravado you had expected. And you had to admit, you didn’t hate it. 

“NO,” You said rather emphatically. “My friends did though. It was disgusting,” 

“Ohhh was it now?” he laughed while lighting his cigarette and taking a puff. “Too vulgar for your taste, princess?” 

“Will you knock it off?” you folded your arms. “Just because I came from a better place than you doesn’t mean--”

“See?” he gestured with his cigarette. “You DO think you’re better than me!”

“That’s not what I--” you sputtered angrily. “That’s not what I meant!”

“A lover’s quarrel already?” Gareth came strolling in with a hearty chuckle. 

“Shut up Gar,” Eddie huffed. 

“Y’know that’s a lot of venom for someone who saved you from a herd of succubi,” 

“She’s not from Hawkins, She’s from Brooke Heights,” 

“It’s the same thing!!!” you argued.

“Ooooooh,” Gar said in a cartoonish voice. “So? We can’t help where we’re born or who to, Edds.” 

“Like you can’t control you were born in a trailer park,” A band mate chimed in as he walked into the “Room”.

“Jesus Jeff,” Gareth exhaled roughly. 

“Yeah, whose side are you on?!” Eddie stood up defensively. 

“There aren’t any sides!” Jeff sniped back. “There’s just facts--”

“I’m not going back to the Heights, I'm going to find my half brother, okay?!” 

The three men stopped arguing to look at you in shock and confusion. 

“What does that even mean?”

“My parents don’t know I’m going to Hawkins. I don’t want them to know I’m anywhere near them.” you explained.

“....You’ve never met your half brother?” Eddie said with a rather condescending tone. “That’s nice--”

“I wasn’t allowed to, okay?” you snipped. 

“Aren’t you an ‘adult’?” he smirked. 

“I left when I was 18 smart ass,” you folded your arms. “And I never looked back.” 

“So you’re just randomly deciding to--”

“Look, I don't have to explain myself to ANY of you. But if you must know, THIS is why I'm going back now.”

You pulled a page from the CC program your friend had bought. It had old pictures of the band, explaining how they all met and formed the group. In one black and white photo, with 7 guys. Four of them were CC, the other three looked to be freshmen. The caption read: “HELLFIRE CLUB ‘86.” Then it listed the names of the club members, including your brother’s. 

“...Who exactly is your brother?” Eddie asked shakily as he glanced at the other guys who were equally puzzled.

“Dustin Henderson,” you replied flatly. 

To your shock, Eddie had a much more visceral reaction than you expected. He started pacing and muttering to himself.

“Nah,” he chuckled nervously. “Nah, Henderson would’ve told me if he had a sister--”

“He doesn’t know,” 

“Whatd’ya mean ‘he doesn’t know’?” Eddie stopped suddenly and narrowed his eyes at you. 

“I mean--” you sighed uncomfortably, looking at the floor. “It’s complicated,”

“So uncomplicate it,” 

“Look, why do you even care?” you suddenly gained some cajones. “He’s just some kid you went to school with,”

“He’s my little brother!!!!”

“...What?” your face went pale. Oh god, did that mean you and Eddie were related somehow? Oh god…

“I mean, not literally.” He noticed the horrified look on your face, and he couldn’t hide a smile. It was gone as fast it appeared however as he remembered what your topic of argument was. 

“I mean I took him under my wing. And we--” he looked over at the other members awkwardly. “We went through some shit,”

“Some shit?” 

“They got caught in the earthquake,” the last band member Quentin seem to come out of nowhere.

“Earthquake?” you looked between the three of them.

“Okay look Hawkins isn’t the place you left it,” Eddie explained, hoping no one else would jump in. None of them knew what really went down in Hawkins, and he’d never be able to explain it. It was hard enough for him to believe it, and he lived it. 

“There was a major earthquake due to some crazy lab based there, and that’s all you need to know.” Eddie said sternly.

“Yeah Eddie almost died,” Jeff added while you looked at Eddie. He seemed quite disturbed and got that familiar feeling of his chest rising and falling rapidly.

“Which is why we got signed,” Jeff went on. “A record label saw an article about him in the paper and gave us an audition,”

“So really, it helped us out.” Quentin added.

“I’m sorry so you’re basing your success on a major tragedy?” you said in a disgusted tone.

“Lemons into lemonade?”  Quentin shrugged.

“ANYWAY--” Eddie changed the subject, quickly becoming more fearful the more they discussed the “Earthquake”.

“So tell me why Henderson doesn’t know about you, EXACTLY.”

Well, this just got a hell of a lot more intimidating. 

“My--our dad was married to my mom and they had me. When I was around six years old, they started having…problems.” you picked at your sleeves as you explained.

“So one night my dad went to a bar on the ‘other side of the tracks’ so to speak,” 

Cue the groans and eye rolling from the band. 

“And had a one night stand with a woman, resulting in Dustin.” you spoke again. “And one day Dustin’s mom came around for money, threatening to expose him. I only recently found out about this, my mom doesn’t even know!”

“Nah, Henderson said his dad died in a fire…”

“Well you really think his mom was going to tell him he was a result of a one night stand with some rich politician?” 

“There it is,” Eddie shook his head with a bitter laugh. “The daughter of a pig,” 

“You think I don't know that?!” You exclaimed angrily. “Why else do you think I left as soon as I could?” 

“So daddy’s been funding your big city adventures?” 

“Maybe….”

“Oh, maybe. MAYBE because you threatened to expose him this time? Exploit my little brother for your own personal gain?”

“Why else do you think I’m going to tell him?!” You stomped your foot. “I’m going to get out from under my ‘daddy’s money’ and do the right thing! AND he’s not even your--”

“He’s more of my brother than he is yours!!!” Eddie suddenly screamed, his blood boiling.

“Hey man, take a breath.” Gareth put a hand on his shoulder.

“Dustin has been through hell and back, Y/N. He doesn’t need you coming in and blowing up his whole world to appease your weird ass concept of ‘the right thing’.” 

Eddie got in your face, speaking in a low guttural voice. And with that, he stomped back to the bunks, leaving all of you shell shocked.

“I thought you were supposed to help his stress, not amplify it.” Jeff huffed.

“God dammit…” you sighed, getting up to follow him. 

“No,” Gareth suddenly stood in front of you. “I think you’ve done enough.” 

“Look, Dustin means a lot to all of us, not just Munson.” Quentin explained. “You can’t blame us for being protective. Especially him.”

“I’m not doing it to hurt him,” you said sadly. “I just-- I haven’t had a real-- ‘family’. Not like this,” You held up the page again.

“You guys look like brothers, so I do get your defensiveness. I do. I just--- I want a relationship with him, and I think he’s old enough now to handle the truth. That’s all.” 

“Well,” Quentin looked between Jeff and Gareth. “I mean, she does have a point--” 

“Who’s side are you on now?!” Gareth glared at him.

“Dustin’s!” Quentin talkover him. “Eddie’s right, he’s been through a lot. And-- i mean, look where we are. He lost us-- he lost Eddie. A big sister might be what he needs right now, yeah?”

“We’re literally going back right now, Q!” 

“For how long?” Quentin looked at both of them. “You know Carter wants us to cut an album ASAP before our ‘hype’ fades. We’re gonna be back in LA like that!” he snaps at ‘that’.

“And how long before ‘princess’ here goes back to Chicago?” Gareth gestured angrily at you.

“Guys it’s really none of our business--” Jeff spoke up.

“Dude, REALLY?” Gareth hit him.

“Will you all just SHUT UP?!” You raised your voice over all of them, making them stop arguing. 

“Jeff’s right, this is none of your business. NONE. I don’t care if you ‘approve’, Dustin is MY brother. For ACTUAL fact. He’s not just your little buddy. He’s--”

“YOU,” Eddie’s voice came from the back, making you jump back ten feet. “With me, now.” 

“Dude, I hardly think hate sex is gonna help right now--” Gareth teased.

“Don’t make me kick your ass, Gar.” Eddie growled as you reluctantly followed him. 

“...Um, what are we--”

“There’s more you need to know about Dustin if you’re really going to do this.” Eddie didn’t wait for you to finish.

“That’s ominous,” you half laughed, stopping abruptly when you saw how serious his face was. 

“It’s…kind of a long story, that none of the other guys know about.” he rubbed the back of his neck. 

“And you just wanna lay it out there to a stranger?”

“Well you’re gonna know eventually,” he shrugged. “It’s part of who he is now. A part of all of us,” 

“Us?” you raised a curious eyebrow. 

“Just-- let me explain, okay?”

“Okay..." you got comfortable in one of the bunks. 

What could Eddie possibly have to tell you?

[keyblade-knights-blog]

Introducing Gabriel

"GABE!!!" The light evens out, dims... And the dreamer awakens to find himself staring up at a strange wooden ceiling, with plentiful iron pipes making their way about... A strange sight to be sure. The dreamer takes a moment to sit up, take in his surroundings... And their a bit confused when they see that the bedroom isn't just a bedroom. There's also plenty of machines about some of them seeming alien in purpose and design... Honestly, no matter how much the dreamer looked at everything, this felt just as much like a laboratory as it did a bedroom. ... Where was- There comes a knock at the door.

"Last chance Gabe! Get your butt up or I'm gonna get you up myself! ... So that voice was talking to him? ... So his name was Gabriel-? "Okay sis okay! I'm up!" ... That voice came out of HIS mouth? What? For whatever reason, the dreamer knows it's not his voice. Apparently he's a he? It's been so long, but he knows that for certain... "... Did I fall asleep sitting up-? Weird... Maybe a subroutine got a bit buggy. Might have to talk to the Doctor." And then the body moves on it's own, getting up from the bed... And as the Dreamer follows the body's eyes, he starts putting together more and more details. The body he's in is a strange silverish sheen, with what looks like slots and creases to allow a free range of movement on every natural curve the body might have... Which to him screams something unnatural. Something that merely imitates the human body as opposed to actually being one. The body begins a routine, using some tools to fix itself up; a wrench to tighten some screws, a comb to straighten out some wiry artificial hair, then a cast-iron scrub brush to brush away some dust, grease and other assorted oddities one might get. From there, he puts on clothes, a sleeveless black vest, a green scarf, a red hat, red pants, and throwing it all together with a thick brown leather coat that almost looked previous century... Finally, the dreamer gets a look at himself in the mirror.

.... The hand lifts up to the face... It definitely feels like it's made of a strange type of metal. But the metal also has some synthetics to it. It's almost like it's both at the same time? The face looks so young, probably around the dreamer's age or there-abouts... You know, if he wasn't a robot... Why does he think that? What are robots? What is- "-? Why am I-?" And apparently to confuse the issue further, this body wasn't even his own. The actual owner pulls his hand back and looks at it oddly. "... Why did I do that?" And as he, as Gabriel, questions this, something even stranger happens. One moment he's looking at his own reflection. And the next?

It's brief and he can't honestly see more then just an eye... But it's enough. "AGH-?!?!?!?" The robotic boy trips and falls backward landing flat on his metallic rump. "Wha-?? What was-!? WHO was-!?" "Was that... Me-?"

!!!! The robot is back on his feet in an instant. He has no weapons on his person, but now he WISHES he did. "W-Who said that?? Where are you??" "P-please calm down. I can explain! ... I think. But you need to chill out first." ... That voice seemed to be coming from everywhere and yet nowhere at the same time... Gabriel didn't LIKE that he was taking a suggestion from an unknown intruder, but he does as he's asked, lowering his guard. "... Alright... I won't punch you... Where are you though-? I don't see you anywhere..." The mechanical boy bops himself on the head a few times... "And why does it sound like you're inside my head?" ... He, the Dreamer, the Intruder... He takes control of Gabriel's body and turns him back to the mirror. "Wha-?? Why-?? Why is-??" For the briefest of moments, Gabriel see's his reflection again. ... ... ... ... ... And then it morphs again.

This time, Gabriel and the Intruder both are able to get a better look. As opposed to a simplistic looking robotic being with white metal, synthetic skin, wiry brown hair and dot eyes, they see a young man with a healthy tanned complexion, black hair, primarily wearing blues and whites, and sporting feathery looking black hair. To Gabriel, it's magical, it's nonsensical, it's honestly kind of scary. But to the intruder, it's an eye-opening experience. A memory deep deep DEEP down in his mind tickled at the sight. A part of him looking at that sight... And *realizing* it looks familiar. Intimately familiar. Like he himself had looked into a mirror once before and this sight awaited him as well... Did that mean... This was his reflection? What he was *supposed* to look like? "..." Gabriel once more calms down when he looks down at his hands and realizes the reflection isn't matching up with what he looks like now. Comforting since it meant that he didn't suddenly transform into the reflection he was seeing in the mirror. "... Who are you-?" ".... I...."

"... I don't... Remember."

[wrathfulmercy]

Plotted starter for @hcneygaze

A quiet place. A casual one. None with noisy looks and loud noises that was what this meeting needed. Where else would Rick feel comfortable in his undercover role as a business man when he talked to the most influential people in the city? Right, nowhere. The library always gave him a kind of peace his personal quarters wouldn’t provide. At his mansion he always had to make sure that the girls he protected and gave shelter to wouldn’t be seen or intervene. When he was out as his formal persona it was alright to be seen in public spaces to not raise suspicion and in here no one of his usual enemies would suspect him.

It should have been as usual. Just talking about donations, some money floating from one place to another while they shared a little coffee and wouldn’t be bothered by the normal folk. It all worked out pretty well until two of his business partners left for the bathroom and Rick could finally let his eyes wander around the place. He was thinking about how he could enlarge his own little book collection as something else suddenly caught his attention and seemed like an even more exquisite piece he just had to own. One that could probably not be bought by money regarding the ring she was wearing on her hand with that damn beautiful smile and a warmth that suddenly filled the full room as soon as he looked at her.

The two men came back and Rick didn’t even notice that they had already continued talking, his eyes too focused on following every move that woman behind the counter did, every last chuckle that left her stunning lips and how she brought a smile to customers faces whenever they got their receipt. Damn, he would spend a lot of time here regularly from now on. “I think that’s it for today, gentlemen. We will see each other tomorrow at the event.” With those words Rick got up, nodding to them but not shaking hands since he always avoided physical contact with anyone unless it was someone he cared about. Whenever he was out in his real position, he would wear leather gloves that became his signature accessory as the mob boss he often had to represent at night, but in here as Rick grimes he wouldn’t wear them and therefore avoided to touch anything else than the books he now striped his fingertips along when he walked through the shelves.

In fact his eyes always wandered back to the counter, an unconscious smile always on his lips the closer he got to her. “Excuse me, but I assume all the books I get here will need to be brought back, ain’t I right?” he said with a confident voice and shoved a novel of Graham Greene over the counter. “Usually I would say that’s a pity, but considering the person I have to come back to for this makes it probably worth it.” A playful grin spread on his face while he placed his arms on the counter to lean in closer, watching that stunning woman use her fingers with the books she sorted back in again. “I think I’ll need a library card. I have the feeling I’m coming back more often now, Miss… what is your name?” His should be known as it was all around the city, so why not ask for hers in return right? “Miss Gray.” he added after spotting her little name tag on her shirt. “Are you working here on a regular basis, Miss Gray? Cause I think I might like to return to this counter if it is your face waiting for me here.”