#this girl you dont even know the name of- burnt and bloody- out of the bed you just laid her on- already calling her your daughter

[eyestrain-addict]

I feel like I should say I don't believe lestats version of events is entirely accurate because we're given multiple times where he just straight up lies (in the faux trial he omits that antionette was his mistress before they got claudia, during claudia, and after claudia left, trying to imply he only went to antionette when Louis wasn't sleeping with him (which wouldn't be a defense anyway but I'm just bringing up what he says)) so I think it's fair to say he wasn't being completely truthful but I also don't believe he was completely lying either because it doesn't seem like anything is truly different, it's just it seems the threads of Louis' mind were fraying way before they attempted to kill Lestat. Like we already knew Louis begged Lestat for Claudia. We already knew they fought.

However one glaring detail I noticed immediately and thought "he's lying" was during their fight, Lestat has a lot of blood on his face. As opposed to Claudia's account where he was completely unharmed. Given what we know about Lestat and Louis' strength, I don't think Louis would have been able to do that much damage to him even if he was trying his hardest and Lestat wasn't stopping him. I do however believe Louis laughed, because we already know Louis has a maniacal laugh, he does it in Dubai.

[yourlocalmechanism-dr-carmilla]

Name: Alice Liddell

Position: (former) scout captain

Side: rebels(former), Queen of hearts (current)

Status: deemed detrimental to the war effort, but now employed by her majesty, the queen of hearts

Relationship: the general(?) The tow have been seen spending quite alot of time together and seeming to be close…we also osberved that there was a.small bottle we couldnt get away from her..odd

Remarkable action: stabbing the Jabberwocky's eye out, aswell as a few victories on war and for being able to overwrite comsat chesires code, fighting for the queen of hearts with such aggression and strength

Timeline of events as documented:

-after pleading for mercy for the knave of hearts, she was brought away to receive her own punishment- becoming a servant for the queen of hearts.

-comsat chesire used her voice to receive more soldiers to keep the war going

-first, brainwash was in order- by replacing her eyes and also caring for her haur- bloodstains are rather fashionable and the new eyes add a good flair to them :)

-then od course it us about making her body as suited as possible with the limited respurces..the subjecr alice has shown resisitance and stubbornness, bt we amamged to break her eventually

-the result: a fierce, intimidating soldier, a good guard dog to our wonderful queen

-shes rather deadly with the blade and swift, although we do iften have to keeo her mediacted or even sedate her when she loses it

-but then .ine day,the subject tried to murder our queen and we relaized that she was unsuited to be a soldier and trialed her and passed the judgement ofdeathh-whuch was carried out

Cause of death: decapitation, executed by her majesty, the queen of hearts. It was followed through

[notes added by raphaella la cognizi and jonny d'ville]

We deceided to rescue this poor girl- or her body parts. Raphaella said we shoudl jsut take the brain out and vocal chords and throw the rest of her head away, shed make a new one. (Frankly she is abit scary). The reason wyh we take her allng is her affinity for VIOLENCE, how she deals the rifle and because its time for abit of fresh members here, ya know? And also because raohaella felt sorry for her and wanted to give her a second chance…which she got i guess…and raph says that she did some VERY fine work which we all agree on..and so fsr, aside from usual ptsd, panic attacks nightmares, mumbling how her mind is in ruins and all that jazz, shes a good additoon! We get along swimmingly, shootign witnesses and everyone else on our time-she loves ising her blue rifle which is called “Dinah” …funny eh? Well, we picked up some more of these wonderland folks..even tho i didkt agree too…but then the arguments between them, are rather entertaining….but sometikes i do feel…sorry for her. With her Amnesia and also her not talking about her past- well except to me..she admitted she killed her parents as they supported king cole..and her sister was uncaring..…burnt down the house…mustve fucked her up preeettty bad…and i get thst…so..i wanna protect her abit more…but dont let the pthers read that!

“There's no exit out of my ruined mind”

I once fought for a good cause, a rebel soldier through and through

My parents never understood, they rather supported a old tyrant- that was their doom

A library burns far too easily and it can be passed off as a accident, my sister was in the house too, i felt abit of regret, but had to focus on the war

Oh, my mind is a labyrinth thats in shambles,

I cant get out, i keep being mislead

Through the haze i see myself, fighting, bleeding, when will it stop?

Nothing yet everything makes sense here

And who even was I before i found myself here?

Although you must say, ive never fought in the original war, so to say- but i remembered bits of stories and aftermaths…grim and bloody…

And then, one day/ a standard flight, as i pick up a old signal

It leads me to a planet, that is encased in wartimes, no one wants a ceasefire or peace it seems, as if everyone would die when the war ends

Oh, my mind is a labyrinth thats in shambles,

I cant get out, i keep being mislead

Through the haze i see myself, fighting, bleeding, when will it stop?

Nothing yet everything makes sense here

And who even was I before i found myself here?

I cant fins anyone that has sense in their heads/ and there i am, pleading in the favour of the knave of hearts- i am unsuccessful as i am being dragged away

The trial isnt fair of course and what follows is my eyes being replaced- a start to turn me into a guard dog for her majesty

Syringes, medicine and brainwash are the tools they use to shape me, drug me so i dont act up

Oh, my mind is a labyrinth thats in shambles,

I cant get out, i keep being mislead

Through the haze i see myself, fighting, bleeding, when will it stop?

Nothing yet everything makes sense here

And who even was I before i found myself here?

But then, i break through! Getting back at her, almost killing her like i did so many others in her name- i fail! My trial again is swiftly over and then, i kneel infront Of her, one last insult is hurled at her, before she slices my head off clean. Youd think death brings peace, but now- it brought fury and pain up inside of me, oh how loathesome!

And then i wake up..alive…feeling different….amnesia prevents me from knowing little more than my name…and a few locked away memories i shant tell…

Oh, my mind is a labyrinth thats in shambles,

I cant get out, i keep being mislead

Through the haze i see myself, fighting, bleeding, when will it stop?

Nothing yet everything makes sense here

And who even was I before i found myself here?

Speaking of alice..my version of her plus a song :3

[classic80sand90smovieloves2]

Meeting and Dating Severen

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

- You first met Severen at the sleazy bar you called your place of employment. You were serving a booth their drinks when he and the others made their entrance. And oh what an entrance it was.

- As per usual, Severen started to make chaos the moment he walked in, talking/laughing loudly and nearly getting himself into a fight. You really didn’t want to go over and serve him but you were the only there besides one other bartender and the man was conveniently MIA.

- So you swallowed down your feelings of dread and maneuvered yourself behind the bar.

- The rowdy man straightened himself out upon your arrival, a Cheshire grin spreading across his face as he focused his sights on you.

“Well ain’t you a pretty little thing.”

- Against your better judgement, a small smile spread across your face. He was much more handsome up close, and when he was behaving himself properly.

- There was an undeniable attraction growing between the two of you, especially on his part. He acted the same as he always did with women but there was something different about you, something special.

- Lets make things clear, none of these vamps know how to do things conventionally, especially not Severen. You don’t have a romantic start to your relationship, you have a frightening one.

- Shit hit the fan not long after you poured the unusual patron a drink. Like a rational person, you plastered yourself against the wall and watched with wide eyes as him and the others dealt with the other occupants of the bar.

- Once they were finished, Severen hopped down on your side of the bar, throwing his arm around your shoulders and calling you cute.

“I think we should keep her.” He grinned, twirling a piece of your hair between his bloodied fingers.

- You were obviously afraid; as one should be, but a part of you was weirdly accepting of the situation. It was as though what you’d experienced was so unreal that your mind decided to rationalize it as though it were normal.

- So when Severen began to lead you out of the bar with them, throwing a pointed look at his companions as they opened their mouths to argue, you just let him. And when he pulled you into the rv with them, talking your ear off and blatantly flirting; you let him do that too.

- Don’t blame yourself too much for your questionable decisions, you’ll find out soon enough that the two of you are mates.

- Since your new friends burnt down the bar, anyone who was aware of your existence thought you were dead which made things particularly easy for Severen.

- For better or for worse, the two of you grew close very quickly and soon enough he decided to shoot his shot. He announced that he would “watch you” as everyone went out in search of a meal.

- While the two of you were walking, he began to ramble on about how you made a good team and how it “only made sense” for the two of you to get together.

“So what do you say?” He grinned at you cockily.

- He kisses you for the first time once you agree, letting out a “well come here then” before he swiftly pulls you in and lays one on you.

- And thus, the chaotic vampire found his one true love.

- Pda? I mean you aren’t in public all that much but he’s constantly hanging all over you so I suppose that’s pretty much the same thing.

- Whenever you are in public, he’s making sure everyone knows that you’re together by keeping his hands on you at all times. He’s very proud of his girl.

- Bear hugs. He’s constantly pulling you in and wrapping his arms tightly around you. He’s going to squeeze the life out of you one day; you’re sure of it.

- Hugs from behind. They’re mainly an excuse for him to grind against your backside.

- Dancing together.

- Holding hands.

- Sooo many pet names; sometimes you’re sure that he’s forgotten your real name. You aren’t complaining though, it makes everytime he calls you your real name even more special/ powerful.

- Affectionate name calling. He can’t explain why he enjoys having you call him an asshole but you should know that he does.

- He likes picking you up, typically by your clothing before he decides that he wants to hold you close.

- Bloody kisses. You better get used to the taste.

- Be wary when he tries to flatter you, especially in excess. He typically has an ulterior motive when he starts to bombard you with compliments.

- He’s constantly teasing you. There is never a time when he isn’t poking fun and trying to get a reaction out of you.

- He’s an annoying ass yet sweet at the same time. He gives off crackhead older brother vibes most of the time. He can mess with you but is ready to tear someone a new one if they try doing the same.

- Witnessing him kick a door down then slide out of the way and hold it open for you with this innocent little doting boyfriend smile. It’s kind of amusing to see how quickly his attitude shifts when you’re involved.

- He’s constantly stealing things for you. You learn not to ask where he gets them from since it’s either a store or someone who’s no longer breathing.

- Causing chaos together. Want to steal a car? Want to start a fire? Want to go completely ape shit? He’s got an anarchist mind and he’s ready for a partner in crime; literally.

- He’s always trying to make you laugh. It isn’t hard for him which never fails to give him an ego boost. He boasts about how you find him hilarious to the others both when you and when you aren’t around.

- Getting to see all his neat little gun tricks. He likes being able to impress you.

- He may or may not get turned on when you handle his guns. Be prepared for more than a few innuendos and instances of him tearing off your clothes.

- He would absolutely feed on you if given the chance. He’d call you delicious before pressing his bloodied lips to your cheek and calling you “a doll”.

- He can clean up surprisingly well. You were genuinely shocked when you saw him all dressed up for the first time.

- Falling asleep on him in the rv.

- The two of you don’t exactly have a bed 90% of the time so you just have to try and cuddle however you can. A lot of the time, you’ll be sitting on his lap with him pressed against your back.

- You’ll have to change your sleep schedule if you want to spend any length of time with him. You being tired sort of kills the mood, even if he finds sleepy you adorable.

- You’re sort of used as a clothing rack. His sunglasses? On you. His jacket? On you. His rings? On you. Its both for “safe keeping” and because you look cute in them.

- Occasionally helping him lure in his victims, or being called a sweetheart when you refuse to.

- He’d find your morals both sweet and exasperating. He enjoys how innocent and kind you are but also yearns for you to be a little evil once in a while.

- Whenever you’re out on the town, he’ll either drag you to the bar with him or you’ll sit with the others in a booth while he does his thing. You‘ll most likely prefer the latter, you might not want to be in the line of fire when he starts causing trouble.

- Playing with or watching him play pool. He likes to wink at you whenever he catches you watching him closely, usually before he makes a perfect shot.

- He curses like a sailor. You can’t remember how many times you’ve had to scold him or slap his arm because he was being completely inappropriate in the worst way possible.

- He also uses insults like they mean nothing. He’ll either call you something or call someone else something which usually tends to start some trouble.

- You pretty much have to keep an eye on him at all times since you know it only takes him a few seconds to completely destroy the peace in the room or wherever else he is. As fun as it is to see him go crazy, sometimes it’s best to not let him get to that point.

- Joking threats. He likes playing up his vampirism, trying to make you a little nervous and enjoying the subtle acceleration of your heart. Even so, he’s the only one that’s allowed to scare you.

- He’s very protective of you even though he; oftentimes, tries to hide it with humor. He tries not to make a big deal out of things until he really has to though occasionally something will really set him off. You’ll be able to see the mirderous intent in his eyes, the twinkles leaves them and they just go cold as his smile drops.

- Anyone that tries to flirt with you is immediately plotted against. It isn’t uncommon for him to kill people that he thinks are trying to get with you. Jesse’s had to hold him back a few times when the group can’t afford a body on their hands. So yes, he’s extremely jealous.

- He claims you with one of his rings, making sure you know exactly what you wearing it means.

“This here,” he takes your hand roughly. “This here means that you’re mine, darlin. Dont you forget it.”

- A sick part of him likes when you get mad or jealous at/over him. Seeing you get all vicious and vindictive makes his day.

- You don’t expect it but he’s fairly good at easing tension. The only problem is that he rarely wants to ease tension. It really just depends on what’s going on, sometimes he’ll want to fight and sometimes he won’t; particularly when it comes to you.

- He’s got a wicked temper and no patience for complaining or anything of the sort. You’ll certainly have your fair share of fights, especially if you plan on staying together for a “long time”.

- He tries to make you smile when “pleading” for your forgiveness. He tries to “cute” or bother his way out of trouble when he manages to really piss you off. You can never really stay mad at him for that exact reason.

- You get a lot of teasing/joking ‘I love you’s’ but you get a few more earnest ones as well. You cherish them since they’re few and far between.

- There’s a part of him which doesn’t want to turn you, keeping you soft and warm, but another part of him couldn’t bear to see you get hurt or imagine a world where you’re not by his side. So he’ll most likely put off biting you for a while before he finally bucks up and does it.

- He’s ready to spend the rest of eternity with you so believe me; he isn’t letting you go anytime soon.

[kate-read-that]

Scandinavians believed when a worthy warrior died in combat, a valkyrie would pick his soul and take him to Valhalla to serve Odin.

Dimitri is in hell. He can hear his brothers screaming around him, but he can't see them in the fog. He's killed so many men he can't count them an he's badly hurt, blood stains the fabric on his chest.

He's dizzy. He tries to force himself to stay standing but his legs fail and he falls to the ground. He tries to remember his sisters' faces. His mother's. Yeva's. They need him. But his eyes close mercilessly and he drowns in the darkness.

_Wake up Einherjer, we have to present you tonight. You've already made us wait enough.

The voice seems entertained. Dimitri tries to open his eyes but they don't obey. His body doesn't answer neither, but his brain seems to work just fine. He's laying in a cloud, or something similar. He can smell incense, and flowers. He hears voices somewhere close, but muffled, and music. He feels someone's breath on him.

_You seemed a good choice when I first saw you, but all you do is sleep -the voice sounds a little petty now, and he can imagine a pout in the girl's voice (it's definitely a woman, he thinks)-. I bet you died on battle because you were too lazy to duck an arrow or something.

What?

His eyes open in shock, and he closes them again. It's too bright. The woman laughs and caresses his hair. It feels nice.

Dimitri sighs and forces his eyes to open slowly. He's in a bed, so perfect it doesn't seem real. The blue ceiling above him has constellations painted with golden ink.

_About time Bogatyr, I thought i would have to drag you out of bed.

He turns to the voice and stops breathing. The...the woman before him is the most beautiful creature he's seen. But she's not a woman. He's sure because her face is different, somehow, more elegant, and her skin glows and... well, she has wings. She focus her black eyes on his face and smiles, and Dimitri can see a pair of tiny white fangs.

_Finnally! Welcome to Valhalla. Yes, you're dead. I'm sure this is very traumatic for you. I'm a valkyrie. Well, your valkyrie. Born to fight alongside you serving Odin and Freya eternally. Please, tell me you're not an skeptical. They’re a nightmare to explain this to.

Dimitri is hallucinating. Or, he's having a very weird dream. He sits up in the bed and looks around. He's in a beautiful room full of luxurious furniture, and there's an open door that seems to connect with a balcony. Through the door he can see the night sky.

_I... what? This is not real.

The creature, sit a few inches away from him, rolls her eyes and hands him a cup of water. He eyes it doubtfully but he's so thirsty he'll take anything. As he drinks, the beautiful woman caresses his chest and analyses every inch of him.

That's when Dimitri realises her skin doesn't actually glow, but she's covered in intricate golden tattoos from her neck down. Which, considering she's hardly wearing any clothes, is a lot. He looks away.

_Your new clothes are in that trunk. I'd dress you happily -she winks with malice-, but I don't want to rush things. We have all eternity and Odin isn't a patient guy.

There's no more water in the cup for him to hide, so Dimitri guesses he should talk instead of look baffled.

_I died? -she nods- and now I'm in... Valhalla. I pray with my family, but... I just... I need a minute.

He won't ask why me. He's not prideful but he knows he is... was one of the best warriors in his clan. He knows valkyrie pick up the best soldiers for Odin, and then... valkyrie and warrior are bound for eternity.

He looks at her carefully. Her hair is dark and braided in a thousand different ways. It's beautiful. Her eyes are black and her skin is a shade of brown he had never seem on a woman. Her wings are small, at least for him, but they are white and gold and make her look even more dangerous than she already seems. He notices five dagues in different cases over her body and smiles.

_You're my valkyrie? Are you... are you happy with that?

He doesn't know if valkyrie can choose their warriors, and since he looks bloody and... dead, he's not feeling really valkyrie-mate material right now.

She arches a brow as she answers.

_As soon as we get you washed up and brush that hair I'll be. I had to undress you to heal your wounds and you're pretty amazing under those ugly things.

She wiggles her hand in front of his face for him to see the blue fire, the healing fire valkyries have, according to the myths. Wait.

_Heal me? I thought I was dead!

_You are, but your body rises to Valhalla when it gets burnt at your funeral and joins your soul. I had to patch you up or you'd be a porous eniherjer, and that's not very alluring for your valkyrie.

She gets up from the bed and Dimitri forces himself to look at her eyes. Her clothes are scarce at best and she looks scary and powerful and beautiful and Dimitri’s body definitely works in all fields, for his own shame. She turns to him and smiles knowingly before shaking her head.

_Stop looking at me like that or we won't make it to dinner. You arrived yesterday, so you have to drink from Odin's wine soon to gain immortality, or your body will start rotting and being all disgusting.

_I left people I cared abut behind -he knows he sound like a child, but his family needed him. It's not her fault but he's just... grieving alive people? That makes no sense.

She frowns -were you married or something? Her wings shake in what seems an unconscious movement.

He shakes his head- My sisters, my mother and my grandma...

_They'll miss you, and it'll suck. But when they die you'll be allowed to see them again. It's not perfect but World's ending isn't going to be fought alone you know?

He doesn't answer. She sighs and sits back next to him.

_Loyalty to family is honourable. There's nothing you can do now, but you must know they'll be alright. Not right now, but they'll be. And I'm kinda happy i dont have to worry about some dead wife coming over to claim my man.

He laughs at her tone and she holds his hand. She's warm and he feels a bolt where they touch. He has the sudden feeling everything will go alright as long as she's with him.

_I don't even know your name.

The woman seems surprised at first but then answers proudly-My name is Rose, but you can give me a new name if you wish, like I could change yours if I wanted. I like Dimitri, though. Though I may call you Bogatyr, as well-she winks an eye and smiles again.

He caresses her cheek and feels a warmth he's never experienced outside her family-I like Rose, too.

[amoosewritesfanfic]

21: knife play

[+18]

[Tomura Shigaraki x Pro Hero female reader]

[PLEASE READ THE WARNING VERY IMPORTANT STUFF THATS WHY IT'S SO FREAKEN BIG AND RED]

[Warning: some rough sex, knife play that results in lots of blood, shiggys a big ass sadist in this. So just be warned this is probably gonna be gorey so just like be super warned, but keep in mind the quirk and all that jazz that's been mentioned. If you don't like blood, don't read it! I'm warning you if you get triggered by blood and knife play!! Also death so... yeah

So skip it if you don't like it please. 🌺]

[Y'all know I don't own any characters or art and as always all credit goes to original creators]

-

-

You were bound, your arms were behind your back and your legs were being held apart by a chain.

You didn't make a witty remark as you usually would, something about this situation was... dangerous, Shigaraki was at times unpredictable and you definitely didn't want to risk anything to piss him off.

"Ya' know Y/N, I didn't think you were so easy to capture, what being one of the best heroes and all..." Shigaraki trailed off as he eyed you in your casual clothes which consisted of a black skirt, thigh high stockings and a red shirt.

Your hair left loose and a beautiful red lipstick covering your lips.

"What do you want with me...?" You dared to question.

Your wrists were in pain from trying to pull out of the ropes holding you down.

"Hmm~ that is the question now isn't it? I admire you honestly. You're one of the most honest heroes, kinda like All Might, but better. You don't take any of the money given to you for your own selfish desires and you work behind the scenes, but your presence is so well known as a hero no villain has dared to come against you~" he cooed, digging into his coat pocket, pulling out a pocket knife.

Your body tensed slightly as you narrowed your eyes at the villain.

The blade lifting your chin so he could get you to look up into his crimson hues or as means to threaten you into not trying anything.

"And I want to use you, gods I want to use this pretty little face of yours to scare the other heroes and scum into accepting their new fate!" As he spoke he brought the knife down, cutting open the shirt to expose your breasts being held up by a simple black laced bralette.

"And what fate might that be Shigaraki...? You don't think that I would actually comply with such a request." As you spoke Shigaraki grinned, running his free hand through his hair, being sure to keep his hair out of his face so you could get a good look at his face as he knelt down.

"You'll comply Y/N, because if you don't a lot of unnecessary innocents will die and as a hero isn't it your duty to protect them?" He asked, you growled quietly and he grinned.

"The fate that they will be facing is none other than serving under me, see that bastard overhaul had the idea right, but he couldn't pull it off. He couldn't see the bigger picture." The blue haired male paused, this time cutting off the skirt you wore, exposing a simple black laced panties to match your bralette.

"Turn that little concoction into a gas, spread it out far and wide. It'll cause riots and they'll all come crawling out of the woodworks... all those fake shitty heroes. Their excuses would be that they don't have quirks so they can't do their duty... but someone like you. You'd be fine after all you don't have a quirk do you?" Your eyes widened.

You did have a quirk, but your quirk was useless unless you died.

Your quirk was reincarnation.

"No no... wait you do have a quirk don't you?" He asked, the blade dragging along your stomach gently but he pulled it back dragging the blade down your wrists drawing blood, making you clench your jaw.

You didn't answer him.

"Your quirk, I started noticing a pattern while looking through your files, you were always on the brink of death or announced dead but a few days later you were alive by some miracle. Your quirk is reincarnation."

'Fuck' was the only thought running through your mind.

"It's useful... see we're gonna use it... we're gonna fake your death and then kill you again... and again and again until you give up~ until you become my mindless servant~ well you'll still have your brains and whatnot but you won't have a free will." He brought the blade down cutting off the bralette now, the blade leaving a trail of red between your breasts.

"And... oh wow I'm gonna mark every inch of this body..." he mumbled as he shifted you slightly back, exposing your stomach.

The blade dragging along your skin, it was going deep and you were doing your best to bite back any noises that threatened to escape but you couldn't.

You cried out in pain as he carved his name into your stomach.

Crimson liquid dripping from the wound and pooling beneath you.

"See I'm not gonna kill you, not yet... I wanna toy with you..." he said.

Standing up slowly.

Watching you pant as crimson stained your panties, stockings and skin.

"I wanna see how far I can push you until you beg for death or maybe you're a masochist." He trailed off for a moment as he dragged the blade along your chest, drawing blood making you wince slightly.

His fingers, except one, pushed your hair out of your face before he cupped your cheek looking down at you, keeping his pinky lifted.

"What a pathetic hero... crying from a few minor wounds..." he mumbled trailing his thumb over your pouting lip.

"This could change into pleasure if you just agree..." he mumbled, that was a lie.

You knew it, he was gonna kill you.

But you nodded. You dont know what you agreed too, your brain was becoming muffled, any words he spoke you could barely make out in that second.

His hand reached down and decayed the chains holding you down.

You were too shaky to move as he helped you up, you couldn't concentrate, the pain was too much, blood and sweat mixing together burnt so fucking badly.

He had removed his jacket now, he had on a white shirt, but in your pained haze you didn't notice he was hard until you felt it pressing against your blood covered panties, his white shirt staining red with your blood.

You were sitting on a bed an old bed by the looks of it, one that had barely been used but you knew it was old because they hadn't made a mattress like this in some time.

"Hmm...~" he hummed as he ripped off the panties and pulled out his cock, his tip brushing against your pussy folds making you whimper.

You didn't understand what was going on with your body, you thought you'd be feeling pain especially a stinging sensation from your wounds but... no, instead you felt nothing but pleasure, especially since Shigaraki had buried himself deep inside you.

Placing kisses along your throat as he started bouncing up up and down on his cock, your hands tugging a little at his hair as he had you bounce.

Watching your perky breasts bounce along with you.

"Hmm~ theres a good girl just like that~" he cooed as he bounced you faster in his lap, his free hand had a grip on the pocket knife, but you were to wrapped up in your own pleasure to realise or even feel the cold, bloodied blade pressing against your throat.

The moment you two had gotten close to your orgasms was the moment he dragged the blade across your throat, slitting it, bloody instantly gushing out.

This sensation... gods you couldn't describe it.

It was a new level of ecstasy, your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you were basically gargling your blood which spilt from your throat your hands trying to stop the bleeding but you couldn't you couldn't focus your orgasm mixed with death felt way too good, your entire body gave a few more jolts and twitches before you actually blacked out.

Going into that void between life and death as if your soul was resting for a brief moment.

...

When you had woken up, or rather shot up gasping for air, your hands moving for your throat as you tried to feel if the wound was still there...

You were in a different room from the one where you were killed, Shigaraki no where to be seen but you were naked. Some dried blood still staining your fingers and some parts of your body.

"You're awake, that's just wonderful~" he hummed.

"Two days and you're all healed up." He hummed.

"How was dying and cumming?" he asked as he brought a glass of water over to you which you accepted happily chugging it down instantly.

"Good..." you answered trailing off.

Good?

That was your answer?

You should have been trying to escape to get away from him... why were you sitting here acting like he hadn't just killed you.

"I heard that's the best form of ecstasy, a shame I can't try it~" he said with a chuckle.

"Relax Y/N, theres no reason for you to leave yet right?"

"I... no. I don't." You answered truthfully.

You didn't need to leave.

"Good girl~ I'll take good care of you~" he hummed.

-

-

[Also I'm basing this off of that really messed up hentai Euphoria 👀 if you know... you know mate, also please don't kill your s/o while you fucking lmao it's not very plus ultra. Also this is fictional. So... JUST FICTIONAL MATE, also if you read the entire thing well done.]

[fistsoflightning]

14: hero’s journey

prompt: part || masterpost || other fills || ao3 mirror

word count: 4813 (i DONT want to talk about how long this is)

You are not simply a hero, but this is still your journey, and the parts of you are waiting along the way. All you have to do is take them.

DRK shenanigans, anyone? Note: distinctly not canon-DRK things ahead, hopefully still keeping the same emotional sort of weight? Also, second person POV! There’s no spoilers because this is just me going off on a tangent :P

Someone had noted—an age old teacher, perhaps, memories inlaid deep onto your crystal—that grief causes the greatest oddities to occur. Simulacrums formed of it weren’t so uncommon as one might be led to believe with a surplus of aether and enough love turned sour.

You just weren’t expecting to be one of them.

Like wildfires, you expect to fade back into the darkness of the abyss easily enough; the hands of such a young knight wouldn’t be able to bear being stained so pitch-black, you think, not when she glows with Halone’s blessing and something even more. Her hands leave freezer burns over the facets of your crystal, frosty fog forming as she keeps training, keeps hunting down more and more aevis until there’s nothing left. Even Ishgard’s worst blizzards fail to stand up against the winter storm of her fury.

Must be some sort of rebellion, violent and reckless as it is. You sit back (as much as a distant flame in the abyss can, anywho) and wait until the worst of her temper fizzles back into snowmelt—which, obviously, doesn’t happen like you assumed, otherwise you wouldn’t be here, now would you?

(When you hear the truth of it, crystal fed enough blood and aether to reach out further than just from the little knight’s pockets—when you hear betrayals and exiles and my brother is dead because of your Braves, Alphinaud, what more do you want from me, your realization shows itself in coldflare and dark light, wrapping itself as best it can around someone so blessed and “loved by the gods” as your ward.

Though you need her more than she needs you, it still doesn’t hurt, you think, to cover her armor in a veil of darkness, even when her shield sings of nevermelting ice and wraps light around her anyways.)

But eventually, it does; Lumelle—you find out her name from a man willing to jump in front of inquisitors and magical spears alike for his beloved friends—her enraged grief bubbles off into a quieter sort at the beginning of Ishgard’s new dawn, and you are left by her bedside when she falls into a sleep after destroying a wyrm with grief that, really, wasn’t all that different. (Besides the whole eternal lifespan and eyeballs of power, and the wyrm’s sibling being eaten by Lumelle’s ancestors thing. That had thrown you for a loop.)

And oh, you expect it to end there, your tale that of accompanying a girl who didn’t need you so much as she needed closure; fading after protecting someone so bright would be an honor.

...

(But there is no rest for the righteous, now is there?)

...

Your next chapter opens in the palms of someone already acquainted with bloody hands, and though the little time spent out of Lumelle’s hands has left you wanting for your senses yet again, it takes hardly any time to figure just what this one’s deal is. 

(Her hands shake whenever she sees her party’s astrologian—so small, her head is practically the size of your ward’s fist balled up—and the thought of Vylbrand sours every conversation like milk left to rot. Y’shtola utters the word crone and the spike of earthquake panic you both feel lets you understand the jumble of misremembered nightmares that still haunts the warrior so far north from the place.

When she almost drowns herself in the memories, asking the sea to take her back into her arms, you are the one screaming the entire time—not because she is taking you with her, no, but because you can feel the summer breeze and hear the quiet pond rushing about the housing district looking for her, and you do not know what you’ll do if her death reignites Lumelle’s tempered anger.

The scholar cries out her name just as she falls too deep; Syhrwyda, you remember—you’ll force her name onto this damned crystal if you have to—and the breath of relief you sigh when the white mage forces the ocean to spit her out is all but audible.)

You expect her to let the little supernova cut her down, cleanse burns with blood and old aches with a trip into the abyss, because if Lumelle’s aches were screaming freezer burns then the gentle warrior’s are a quiet erosion. Even dripping blood can wear down a mountain, with enough time, and with a Calamity come and passed, the proof burned onto her skin, it is more than enough to see this mighty willow fallen to the skies opening up and pouring a tsunami’s worth of suffering in retribution.

Both you and her close your eyes when the axe comes swinging down, kneeling on the ground in pain. You do not expect it to be swift or painless like the rumors say of guillotines and execution, but you hope it is anyways.

And yet, and yet, the blade does not come.

(Part of you wonders: would the girl shrouded in fallen moonlight have done the same thing, if she had seen what Syhrwyda had seen? Would she, knowing that the choice was submission or death, have still seen her friend and ally in the woman that burnt her childhood with naught but a single incantation?

It matters not. There is no turning back time, and she has decided to give her friend a boon.)

It is not metal that comes, but a flurry of stars calling a lost sailor home instead, so potent that her magic seeps into your crystal as she collapses against your ward’s shoulder, whispering I’m sorry, I can’t, I won’t like little wishes made upon falling stars. You don’t know if you imagined the croaked it isn’t your fault or if you simply missed the mumbled movements, but Syhrwyda’s aether settles in time with the stars bursting across her skin and you know that your time with her will come to an end soon.

When she sets your crystal by a small crystalline lamp, you hum in amusement, letting yourself slip down into the abyss once more as the watery blue light ripples off the bookshelves.

…

(Who are you?)

(No one of consequence.)

…

You find yourself more confused than before when the scholar picks up your small crystal, facets gleaming brighter than before but still dulled from decades of being frozen under Ishgard’s snows; nothing about him sings of the same pain like the last two. He pockets your crystal easily and you wonder just what use he’ll find from you if he has no abyss of his own to draw from, no font to gather his strength for him to find.

(You miss how quiet he is in the din of everyone and everything else, tuned up to near painful when you open your eyes again. You miss the words he reads, the spells he crafts, the spared glances to his usual tome. Nothing about the man betrays it; hardly anything he does seems to suggest even a hint of regret, grief long since frozen over and forgotten of a home he’d long lost.

This was never an easy road—traveling down into the abyss and to rise back up again—and you do not expect easy wards, but the scholar—)

Even deadly waters can be calm at the surface, deceiving depths holding something stronger, and when he rises to meet the Illuminati and the (not their) primal, you start to see the signs of something lurking in the water and strain to open your eyes, drained as you are so close to Alexander. 

(You should have noticed how he balked away from poisons, preferring to sit far away from the rogue; you should have felt the gentle ripple when Mide mentioned Alexander’s purpose and wondered more.

It is too late for regrets, but it is not too late to stop this man, whose hands are too gentle and weary, from falling further into something he did not truly want.)

Are you daft, you whisper, and it’s not the best thing you’ve ever come up with but it’s the first words you’ve truly spoken to be heard. Like the rest, you expect your words to fall on deaf ears—stubborn people, the ones that have found you—but this time the scholar stops. Lingers, the precipice of a typhoon brewing up from the bottom of his soul. Do you truly think this will work?

“Not completely,” he says, his voice a quiet rumble as his small carbuncle shimmers and shakes its way into existence; part of you wishes you were strong enough to do the same just so you could shake the fluff out of this man’s brain to where it belongs. “But it might, and even the smallest chance...”

What of your friends today?

You don’t know what you expected, really; the scholar clams up and so do you, a connection cleaved in two as he walks away from the hand of the giant primal, stone in hand, and you are too exhausted to try and pry his heart open wider. Convincing him to let it all spill forth is harder than convincing a rock to move on its own, so you don’t try.

This time, when you fall back asleep atop a book with a soft leather cover, you desperately hope this is the end of it.

…

(Did you know them, too? Did they lead you to me?)

(In a way, yes.)

(Then you can stay, for now. Just… keep quiet.)

…

And of course, it never is.

It’s hard to describe your next awakening as anything but a bolt of lightning straight to your center, with how much aether rushes through your crystal and into the abyss. Too fast, too quick, like a flame burning too hot too soon. From freezing to the fiery depths of hell, you think incredulously as you reach out, looking to just who might be so dangerously close to tipping too far.

You don’t expect to find the timid white mage staring down at your soul crystal, red eyes and all.

(In a way, perhaps you should have known it would happen; the man was too damned reserved, all flower petals and no bark, the look in his eyes when he saw someone injured too intense for simple worry. He hates bloodshed yet makes his career in it all the same, and you’ve been held by Lumelle so tightly that you felt his magic—summer’s night bottled into a cure, blooming flowers pressed over scars, and you think nothing could be kinder than the way he loves.

Shame that you forgot that sometimes kindness is forged in the abyss.)

You’re sure he doesn’t mean to keep your crystal at all—hells, he sets it at the bottom of his satchel before he goes running off to join the fray in the same place that nearly killed him, the damned martyr—but you get taken with him regardless, and you see just how badly he’s dealt with it all. You don’t retort as snarkily as you might have with Duscha; your current ward is like paper thin glass, and you worry that if you push him he might break into pieces so small not even the sun’s light could find him.

In fact, you’re not sure what will happen if you make yourself known at all. He doesn’t seem strong enough to handle the idea that his guilt is making a simulacrum manifest.

(If you truly wanted, you could make him a fine dark knight. Teach him how to take his love and turn it into strength and protection stronger than anything the realm’s elements might give him, no matter how loved he is by them. Stain this white mage in dark.

But you see his dreams, sometimes—you never had found your way into dreams before, but with someone practically bleeding their life aether onto you, a simulacrum fueled by memories and pain, it’s hard not to have new experiences—and his hands are always coated in blood. His own, someone else’s, his mother’s, his father’s…

You choose not to take him through the abyss. You don’t want to know if he’ll still be there when you walk out.)

Finding someone that might be able to help someone who very stubbornly doesn’t want help is… a lot harder than intended. There’s not too many people… happy, with your ward; not after Baelsar’s Wall, and the man that Lumelle sent flying. You faintly remember a name—Caelestis, or something—but you care little for details and more for solutions, so you keep peering outwards and looking as best you can without fully peering into their heads.

That is, until that someone comes running at the white mage like a teal tulip some sylph chucked at you with the force of a demon.

(He introduces himself to everyone as Haruki, but you can’t help but call him Ruki after one too many trips into A’dewah’s head—Dewah, he says, and you don’t know much about Seeker names but you know that it means more to your ward than it does to anyone else—and you think you can get him to help, even if A’dewah himself is trying to avoid him like the plague. 

Especially because he’s avoiding Haruki like he’ll die if he doesn’t.)

It takes a few minor illusions and a trip to the Steppe (you didn’t know how to do these before A’dewah, you think as you practically lead a trail of hints from the Enclave to the tree A’dewah’s stuck himself in) but Haruki’s always been smarter than he might look (you still can’t get over the peacock feather of a mess his hair is) and eventually, eventually, your plan comes to fruition.

You don’t try to listen when they talk, but the rush of relief in A’dewah’s aether and the slow transition of summer bottled up tight enough to crack glass to the light warmth of, say, a greenhouse in full bloom tells you all you need to know, anyways.

(Doma is freed, soon after, and the Warriors are called back home, to Ala Mhigo’s war, but you look one last time out to Doma and see the last moments of A’dewah’s goodbyes, and of course it’s Haruki he tells last. His eyes burn like a solar eclipse, and you think if it weren’t for his son—so small and brave, callouses already on his fingers—he’d come back with you.

You think it might be puppy love, somehow, but you take one last look at what you know and think that maybe he’s just tired of being left behind, of being the last one. Might be love, might be wanderlust.

It doesn’t matter. You still have to leave, even if it hurts.)

On the ship’s journey back through the Sirensong Sea, A’dewah finally acknowledges you, in a way.

“Thank you,” he murmurs to no one in particular as he ties up his hair tighter. His eyes aren’t reddened from crying anymore—just the unfortunate lot of his mother’s eyes being blood red by nature—and you think you can rest, now.

So you do.

…

(Don’t you understand to call for help?)

(I can manage.)

(So sayeth the Weapon of Light.)

…

From one firebrand of a caster to another, you think as your crystal gets put into Valdis’ open palms—you learn her name early, this time, instead of just before the climax of the story—and though her aether is quiet you know well enough that it doesn’t mean there’s nothing hiding behind it.

(It’s the same sort of longing for something long past, you remember. Duscha’s aether had a similar balance to hers, even if Valdis is mostly umbral shade and hardly a hint of water among the flames she pulls into form. Where Duscha was restrained she is explosive, and you don’t need to look too hard to find the root of the issue.

The thing is: you’re too exhausted.)

You’re lucky she doesn’t fight closer to the front line, like Lumelle or Syhrwyda, because you can hardly summon a shadow at this point—perhaps you were played the fool by A’dewah’s tears into doing too much, not saving enough.

But then you look at Valdis and think she might be fine on her own, eyes still lit up and hopeful. Spitfire in her hair and embers in her eyes, already burning like a flame that knows how to rise from her ashes already.

There’s something to be said about youth, maybe, and you sigh as you close your eyes and hope to wake when she needs you.

(The thing is: she doesn’t need to.)

…

(... Hmph.)

(If you’re expecting an apology, you’re getting none from me.)

(I do not need—)

…

Your next venture leads you into the hands of someone so astrally aspected you don’t know if you can even summon the strength to peer outwards. Their aether and yours conflicts so greatly that it’s hard to tell if the abyss is flaring up or dying down, really, but you try regardless.

You will eternally be glad you do not have a face, because the pure shock when the face you see is one that was supposed to be long dead is not a face you’d ever like to see.

Lumelle had been your catalyst, and the little machinist before you the cause; you didn’t think he’d survived, somehow, even if you saw the monk that supposedly fell with him. He’s brighter than you’d thought he’d ever be, as close to the abyss as his sister was, and then you realize—

He truly doesn’t need you. His eyes still gleam on their own, not shrouded by something buried deep. If Duscha’s abyss was well hidden enough for you to mistake it, there can be no mistake here.

When he keeps your crystal close, anyways, you close your eyes again, thinking that perhaps this time you won’t be needed like before.

And for the most part; he doesn’t.

(There are times, surely, when a speck of darkness flickers into the light that fills his aether, but you hardly need to look at it to tell it’s over something silly. A flame that will flicker out soon enough. You don’t lift a finger over that.)

In a way, his hands are a restless reprieve. You cannot sleep, truly, because if you do you don’t want to know how much your crystal’s facets will fade, but there is nothing for you here, either.

So. You watch.

…

(But. Don’t you want?)

(I already want enough. I can get by.)

(Doesn’t mean you should.)

…

The rogue plucks your crystal from Elwin’s bag, a shadow in the night, and you hardly realize the change until you’re set by a pack of crystals. You nearly think to panic—what disaster do you have to reconcile now, tired as you are—but then the rogue whispers like he already knows.

(Maybe he does. Every rogue you’ve seen through other eyes has always been a bit sharper than they make themselves to be.)

“Take a breather,” he hums, flipping his daggers in the air and watching them glint in the dim moonlight. You think you might know his name, uttered once or twice in passing, but you’ve hardly begun to rest from your time in Elwin’s bright hands and aether that it’s slipped you by once or twice already. “Ye’ve helped us out. ‘S high time we pay back, hm?”

I do not do this for payment, you sigh, but his aether is the easiest of them all, really, more comfortable than even Valdis’ despite the light chill of it. He doesn’t respond, merely whistling as he walks along the metal pathway—Garlean territory, and he’s so calmly strolling through it?

You don’t choose to rest, even though you could, and keep an eye on the man anyways.

(It’s worth the trouble, you think when you shroud him in shadows, narrowly avoiding the gaze of some wisened soldier who knows the tricks of the trade. Even if nothing’s gained in return.)

…

(They’re...gone. They’re gone, gone, what do I do now—)

(Breathe. You’ll find them again. You always do.)

(But what if I can’t this time? What if I find them only to lose them?)

(You won’t.)

(How can you be sure?)

(Because you want to find them. I’m still here, aren’t I?)

…

There isn’t so much of a rest between leaving Tehra’ir’s palms and falling into the monk’s own, really; not when the rogue collapses alongside Valdis and the man with the eyepatch after some reverberating call that shook even you, incorporeal as you are. If you’d a physical form, the pain behind your eyes would be overwhelming; the sensation of being ripped from one’s body must be horrible, but even more so being torn from the very aether that keeps you.

Either way, the Elder Seedseer drops your crystal into their hands when she comes from the infirmary with a grim look on her face.There is something so familiar about this new bearer, aether so tempestuous and yet… calm. Leaving you contented and wanting all at once.

You don’t know what use you might be to them, either, but if you belonged in the hands of your past seven bearers then you are at home in theirs, lightning crackling from their skin to your crystal’s surface with great ease, for two non-metallic things.

(There is nothing I can do, the Seedseer murmurs and the sharp ache that immediately takes over the dull pain in their head echoes to you and oh, you understand more than ever now what you must help resolve, head spinning as the abyss flares and rages around you.)

You are there for everything after; when they flee to the Steppe, when they hole up in the empty house, when they take Ochir and fly across the mountains until Lunya calls them back home. Your crystal is usually hidden away in their pocket, safe in the leather pouch and buttoned into the cloth of their pants, and never once do you feel ignored, sitting in mutual silence. There’s nothing to be said, really, because their loss is just as much yours.

Both of you grin when you finally, finally make it past the gates into the First despite the horrid circumstances you have been brought to resolve, because it brings you both one step closer to finding them again.

(At first, you think they’ll be just fine without you, that you might be prudent to fall back dormant once more in face of the terribly draining light. At first, it seems like the others might just be a day’s journey away. The Exarch may be hiding things, but if the Scions are scattered then so too are the wayward Warriors; nothing so difficult as pulling souls back across the rift, yet.

Hah. When has anything ever been so simple?)

The journey is the hardest it’s been out of your eight travels, really; whether it be from the Light or from the constant confusion and grief that they struggle to pull from you do not know, and you keep your eyes open when they cannot—especially after Malikah’s Well.

(You are not the one fighting—never have been, even on that odd occasion that you’ve been able to force your way out of the abyss—but in Eulmore you see the flying eater’s wings seconds before they come crashing down on your bearer’s back with talons and when you reach out, for whatever banal reason, it is not darkness that springs forth.

At first, you think it a trick of the Light, because the last time you saw this shield it was back when you were still convinced you were ephemeral, but the next time you reach forth your ward’s wounds are healed in a burst of crystalline lilies.

You are not so stupid as to think this is your own strength, but they have not been with you for so long that you can’t tell what else it could be, what could be more than the others you have traveled with. 

Oh, how blind you were.)

Here, down in Amaurot, it’s harder than ever on them but the easiest it’s been for you, and when they start slipping you have to drag them back to their heels again, lest the Light breaks free and both of you end up dead. You don’t have anything else to give—you do not have Lumelle or Syhrwyda’s inhuman strength or the healer’s prowess of A’dewah or Duscha, too incorporeal to give support like Tehra’ir or Elwin and too loud to stay as quiet as Valdis—but you are there and that has to be enough.

(If Zaya themselves is not whole enough to be worthy in that Ascian’s eyes, then you will find the missing parts that make them whole and bring them home, because in your eyes there is nothing more than them and the little family you’ve somehow managed to pass through like a hand-me-down, and if you and the friends that remain are not enough to guide them through Hades’ abyss then one of them will be.

And the funny thing is; you do, because the missing parts of their soul were the storm in you.)

The final days of Amaurot are harrowing; you are there when Zaya nearly falls to a bird demon, of all things, and you are there when the tempest of aether above a simulacrum of Emet-Selch’s world nearly shatters you into a million stars. It is less you taking the reins and more you standing by their side, the shadow in the light of falling stars that pushes forward when they cannot.

You think Ryne and Y’shtola can see you, can see the glow of seven crystals at Zaya’s side, but it matters not when Emet-Selch still refuses to take reprieve of the abyss and see the merits of something different from what he knows; all that does is that you are by their side, a shade in a city of simulacrums.

(How funny is it, that in his grief Hades dipped into the abyss just as Zaya did in theirs?)

You don’t remember much of what happens afterwards. There is a blur of light, a man’s voice—seven voices you recognize as the abyss flares and takes you back, because there is no space left here for darkness, not now. You expect to die, somehow, because you’d been fighting for so long in a place that threatened to swallow you whole and keep you there even if you followed Zaya resolutely, Hades taking you in his grasp and shattering you just to prove that they are nothing.

There’s a moment of clarity—when dark overtakes light once more—and you take the chance to stretch yourself out, to cover as many people as you can tell are here because Hades’ claws glow with something terrible and you will not lose anyone now, not when you’ve found yourself in them. Even Urianger, even Alphinaud, even Thancred, who is yalms and yalms away from Zaya—all of them have become too precious to lose, too beloved to let be harmed, and if Hades’ form is large then you will become the event horizon that swallows him.

(If you disappear here, it will be worth it—you have served your purpose as a shield, gouged on aether and memories as you are, and if you can give them even a moment more the price of your existence, as much of a simulacrum as you were, it would have been worth the trouble. 

If Hades wins you don’t know what you’ll do.)

But he loses. He loses, and you go home as small of a flame as you were when your journeys began.

And when all is said and done, your crystal ends up on a necklace of thin chain and leather, held close to Zaya’s breast. Dark lightning crackles over the shining facets, finally polished to its prime like it was all those years ago when your last owner died; even then, you don’t know if you can ever come back again, really, exhausted and drained and frayed as you are.

It matters little, those ifs and maybes.

(“No matter where you go,” the gunbreaker says, and you can feel Zaya’s soul warm, cracked as it is—or maybe that’s yours, feeling a bit like your own promises are being voiced through his. Ardbert, the bloke, smiles from behind you, and the little part of you that knows exactly how you and he are similar grins wildly. “I will be there, guarding your back.”)

When they need you next to pull them from the blackest of nights, you’ll be there to see the beautiful dawn they bring in return. There is nowhere else for you to go.

…

(I’ll have to leave soon. Heroes don’t stay, you know.)

(Well, you do.)

…

From the depths of the crystal, a quiet light shimmers brightly, and you are reminded of home...

Action learned: The Brightest Dawn.

[the-accidentals]

Chapter 1

Laura walked in through the door of her shoddy apartment, the lights flickering on as she slumped down on her stained sofa, she wanted to order takeaway but knew she didn't have the money, life was way to expensive and this week had been a pile of horse shit if any one had been, her car was in the garage after it broke down a couple days ago, the bill was so high she would need to not eat for a month. Before getting off shift today she had seen a family of five burn, only 2 getting out alive, a baby and the father. She tried to not let her job get to her but fighting fires was the easiest part, watching the families as they realise that not everyone made it is the worst, you can feel the guilt in the air. We are trained to move on, you can't take every death personally or it kills you from the inside but whenever i see a family torn apart so abruptly the worry stays on my heart, seeing happy families destroyed was definitely the worst part of her job but laura still loved the job and everyone struggles with it so she just tries to leave the worry at work,but today it followed her home, there was just something about today, the fire had started in the oldests room, probably faulty electrics, she was barely out of primary school, just starting to think she was a grown up, it had already killed the middle kid by the time anyone realised and the mother just breathed in to much smoke, it was come and go for a bit but in the end she didn't even make it to the hospital. A happy family reduced to two, a morning father and a 2 month old girl, how she survived I don't know. All that innocence and such young lives torn away so quickly.

Laura stood up shaking her head, it's not good to stay focused on the bad things, noodles and beer and an early night and she can sort everything else out in the morning.She has parents she can beg for money,they won't be happy but they wont let her starve,she just wishes she didn't have to call. For tonight she resigned herself to the sofa with a bottle of cheap beer and some veg noodles, strolling through the internet. Eventually the sun was long gone and the shame came creeping back, she was sitting here running from her responsibilities with beer, noodles and a blanket around her, just trying to hide away on the internet, she was a grown woman, an adult. She closed down reddit and opened her emails, this was an adult thing, she could clear her inbox. Ad,ad,ad,scam,ad,ad, important thing she should of replied too, she was trying to be grown up but that was slightly too grown up, ad, bank statement, don't want to look at that, oh nice easy one, the unit chief is trying to set up a quiz night, he needs to know when i'm free, i can do that. After a couple minutes of checking her calendar, which was embarrassingly empty she had formed an adult but chill response. There! She had been an adult, she had written an email and deleted a few more. She scanned over the rest hoping they could wait a few more days until a quiet moment at work, one caught her eye, an email from a trial company, she did a couple of studies a few years back to get some extra cash and extra cash was just what she needed, she looked into it, it was a medical study looking into a mental health drug, they needed people with diagnosed mental illness so she knew she would fit right in. Drug trials were not her thing but the pay was pretty good, two injections a week, £50 each, it lasted 12 months but you could leave whenever, just under £5,000 for the whole year, she probably wouldn't hang on that long but long enough that she could fix her beat up honda and still eat. Honestly how could she resist? The testing facility was a 15 minute walk away from the fire station as well. Fuck me if was perefect, no nagging from anyone about “being an adult” and “looking after your finances”. Laura finally went to bed that night, slightly tipsy, exhausted but slightly less stressed.

Laura had 2 days until she got paid and she had her first appointment for the trial today, it was a rolling study so there was no set start date. She had promised steve, the mechanic down the road, that he would get paid the bill as soon as she got paid so that he would carry on working with no money upfront, to be honest he totally owned lorna one, she had set him up with an ex of hers about a year back and she had never seen him happier. She walked up to a little privately owned clinic that she had never noticed before, it was smart but felt way to clinical, the lights were so bright it burnt and like all of these places the smell of cleaner was so strong you could taste it, she popped her phone into the pocket of her oversized jacket as she came to the front desk, the lady at the desk looked he up and down, I suppose she didn't really look like she belonged, it didn't look like a cheap sort of place.” hi i'm here for the trial, umm laura burmwell” laura muttered into the ground,she hated reception staff, they always seemed super judgy and this lady was no different, she tapped away at her screen for a few very awkward moments and sighed, pointing me to a section of chairs near the back. Pulling her earphones out she landed in a seat.

“Dont worry she wasn't very nice to me either” a voice chucked next to her, a small grinning woman sat there tapping on her phone, laura smiled back, she was gorgeous, long black hair down to her waist, out shining laura’s dirty blonde mess any day.

“ I’m glad she doesn't just hate me” Lorna joked, internally panicking. Why is such a cute woman actually talking to me? She suddenly felt amazingly underdressed, she was sat next to a stunning women who was clearly ready to go to work in a nice yellow dress and a jacket and she is there look like a gay hobo, hair up in yesterdays bun and a t shirt that has dinosaurs on it, at she is wearing smartish jeans. “I’m laura, are you here for the study?” she smiled.

“Preet, yeah, i'm hoping they can cure the fuckery going on in my head before the end of it” she chuckled but I could see the blush forming over her skin as she processed what she had said, Laura just snorted, tapping her leg on the linoleum floor, trying to think of something to say, her mind in overdrive.

“ nervous?” Preet questioned.

“i just haven't been in a drug trial for years, what if I grow four heads or something?” She joked, Preet actually burst out laughing, tears starting to form in her eyes, which got Laura laughing too, they just sat there trying to hide there laughter from the rest of the very serious looking members of the waiting room, finally after about 5 minutes they both calmed down enough to speak, laughter still glistening in their eyes.

“ but seriously these drugs will of been tested for years before it gets to these sorts of tests, its perfectly safe, they are just proving it and checking out side effects, im sure you wont grow any more heads.” At that moment Preets name was called over the speaker system, Secretly both of them were hoping they had been forgotten about so they could sit here and chat all day but neither of them said it.

“See you later Laura” Preet called as she picked up her stuff and started to follow the now waiting nurse.

Lorna went back to her music, trying to pull a stupid grin off her face.

1941- September 5th

I walked into surgery, on the bench was the patient, a young soldier, barley 19. He was burning up. Nurse Weber was standing there, trying to cool him down while setting up. He had a gun wound that was starting to get infected and the bullet had yet been removed. We set to work, removing infected tissue and finding bits of the shattered bullet but further we got the more futile it became, he kept losing blood and nothing we could do would keep his temperature down, he was pretty much dead in front of us. The nurse looked up, exhaustion in every wrinkle in her face, defeat in her eyes, im sure she had been on duty when he came on, over 10 hours earlier. With an air of defect I started sawing him up, giving him a dose of penicillin and covering the wound with gauze. I doubt he would make the night but we had tried. I removed my bloodied gloves and left. Hoping to be able to rest now. My eyes started over at the dying children and men who fill the halls. when will the war end, when will the suffering stop, have not enough died for the righteous cause? I started towards the boards, I was still on duty for another few days before I could head home. As i passed through the corridors i passed a officer asking about his son, every has someone fighting in this war to end all wars, he came to a halt in front of me desperately asking for his sons conduction, i had treated him when he first got brought in, he was going to make it but he no longer had a left leg, a bomb had hit near trench and had impaled his leg. As he quickly dismissed me, relief clear on his face, you could clearly see the shine on his Swastika pin. “Heil Hitler” I murmured as he marched away into the chaos

This is the first part of a longer story and my first time doing any serious writing, any advice welcome! I know it isn't perfect but I tried so I hope you enjoy it xx

[rogerthat-taylor]

Numbers on Flyers Part 2

(Roger Taylor x Reader x Ben Hardy One Shot)

Part 1

Summary: While helping Roger give out his flyers for the upcoming gig, Ben stumbled into you. Roger wasn’t enjoying the attention you were giving Ben and the lack of it that he was getting so he decided to be cheeky which only seemed to make the matters worse.

Warnings: Swearing and mentions of smoking (just a tad bit)

Words: 2.3K+

A/N: I’m sorry this took way too long to write but I was literally so stuck with this and couldn’t settle with a proper ending or a continuation so I have at least 3 different versions of part 2. I think at this point there’s going to be at least 4 parts to this so yeah. Anyway, I just really wanna take the time to thank everyone who have been nothing but supportive of this. It really warms my heart and i’m so grateful for y’all. Also, I realised how Roger is actually hella angsty in this series but I promise, he’ll soften up! 

-

"They'll be playing tonight as well," you said, handing out the flyer to a passer-by who smiled upon seeing the flyer, "Same place and same time tonight."

"Really?" grumbled Roger to a distant girl around your age, "You had to throw it in front of me? You couldn't have tried the next bin?"

"Roger," you called out in an attempt to calm him down.

It was a sunny noon graced with just enough clouds in the sky to make the weather pleasant and enjoyable enough to give out flyers for Queen's gig next week and promote the upcoming gig that same night.

"I spent hours on those-"

Your gaze shifted when you noticed a tall, buff figure from behind Roger walking towards you. It was Ben and he had a cigarette stuck between his lips which he shortly flicked away upon seeing you.

"Y/N!" He greeted, opening his arms to invite you into a hug, "What are you doing here?"

The scent of cigarettes and burnt bergamot greeted you as your head laid flat on his hard chest. It was intoxicating; his luring scent, his muscular frame but oh so gentle hug.

"I'm helping Queen give out flyers for their upcoming gig next week!" you explained, pulling away, "They've got one tonight as well."

"Fantastic!" Ben exclaimed, "My friends and I have been to their gigs and they play solid music. I'm a fan."

Roger was at a slight distance from all this, barely visible thanks to Ben's intimidating figure but nevertheless visible and there but it didn't seem like it to you anymore and he hated that. His heart wrenched with spite as his jaw clenched tighter before stepping in uninvited.

"Roger!" You greeted as your eyes shifted to Ben, "This is Ben, we take the same class for Linguistics."

Ben. Roger knew bloody well who Ben was. Ben was the twat whose number was written on his precious flyer, the git who had the audacity to call in looking for you and the idiot who was expecting to go on a date with you.

You turn to Roger who seemed to have a stiff smile plastered on his face and continued, "...and this is-"

"Roger Taylor," Roger huffed smugly before wrapping his arm around your shoulder, "Her boyfriend."

Your eyes widened as you feel your body tensed under Roger's firm arm embrace. Ben must have felt the same tension as you see his eyes squint in confusion and his brows drawn in some sort of frustration.

"I-I didn't know you had a boyfriend," he said, covering up his previous demeanour seamlessly with a gentle smile.

"Neither did I," you mumbled still at a loss for words.

"I best be off to class then," Ben coughed out and then turning to Roger, "Love your music by the way. I'm sorry if i've crossed any lines."

"Hardly," Roger chuckled, "We have another gig tonight if you'd like to come."

You watched with your mouth slightly agape as Ben walked away, reaching for his pack and then pulling out a cigarette to light up. Roger still had his arm around you and as seconds went by, the tension from whatever had happened was creeping in more and more into you.

"What the hell was that?" you yelled, breaking away from him, "You don't get to pull strings like that, Rog. That was out of line."

"He's not good for you-"

"You barely even know him," you argued back, making quite the commotion in public.

"He smokes," Roger pointed out sheepishly as he internally scolded himself for his weak rebuttal.

"And you dont?"

"I never said I wanted to be with you, did I?" he gushed out.

Roger often yelled out hurtful things out of anger and impulse but never had he wished to swallow them back in to let it rot in his organs just so he could turn back the time to just a few seconds back to right before he said it out. Never until that moment. Hurt was written in your eyes and he has seen the very same glassy look in your eyes before. Only then, he wasn't the reason behind them so they were much more bearable to look into. He knew that you'd come home to him and resort to his comfort and consoling but not this time - no. He was the reason behind the hurt and it killed him.

"Fuck you, Roger!" you yelled, stomping away from him, "Fuck you! Good luck making popcorn and juice on your own tonight."

Roger was notorious for his temper but you were never the victim of his spiteful impulse. Anger boiled inside you as you ran off to Ben. The thing was, whatever Roger had said shouldn't have affected you as much as it was affecting you and you hated that - your resentment became a clear sign that a part of you wanted to be with him.

"Ben!" you called out.

Ben turned swiftly, "Y/N?"

"I don't know what Roger was on about," you panted, "We're just-"

You paused, finding immense difficulty to continue the sentiment of your words, "We're just friends."

"Is that so?" he clarified, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, "He seems awfully jealous for just friends, love."

"Yes," you said with all the confidence you could muster, "We've been friends since we were young, I guess he was just protective?"

"Sure," he said, "I just don't want to be crossing any lines. I don't quite see myself getting banned from Queen's future gigs."

"You're not, trust me," you said, not wanting to trust your own words, "What about we go for that dinner we've been planning for? Turns out my Wednesday night is free after all."

-

Roger growled as yet another orange squirted its pulps into his eyes. He had been bent over squeezing oranges and popping popcorn for the last hour or so and the amount of times he had orange juice squirted in his eyes were far too innumerable that it was beginning to get into his nerves.

The front door creaked open and Roger froze. His mouth fell and his eyes widened in hopes that he would see you walk in.

"Where's Y/N?" Brian asked walking in, "Wasn't this her idea?"

The heavy weight impending down on him once again; it was his guilt, "Out with some hunky twat on a date."

"Oh," Brian shrugged, walking past Roger, "Good for her-"

A pulped out orange flew above the table and landed with a heavy thud on Brian's head in courtesy of Roger and his temper.

"She's suppose to be here," Roger yelled, "With me! Not with some Ben guy she just met."

"So hunky twat does have a name," Brian stated simply, rubbing the back of his head where he had been hit, "I smell popcorn."

"Could you help me pour in the new batch to their containers?" Roger requested still in his quest to pulp out the few remaining oranges.

"Is this all necessary?" Brian grumbled but nevertheless complied heading to the kitchen to tend to the popcorn.

"Good for her," Roger mimicked Brian with malice, "Good for her?"

"What is it, Roger? Come on then, spit it out."

"Spit what out," Roger yelled back from the dining table.

"What are you on about?" Brian asked, "Why can't Y/N be on a date tonight, hmm?"

"Because we have a gig tonight and-"

"She saw us play two nights ago, surely she isn't missing out much if she misses tonight," Brian cut through his lies, "What is it, Roger?"

"I love her!"

Those three words errupted out of Roger like it had been hot magma boiling within him waiting for its release. Something about verbally saying it out loud made whatever it was that he was feeling for you concrete. It almost felt like he couldn't take it back, that this was it. He truly was in love with you.

"Then tell me this," Brian said, reappearing from the kitchen with popcorn in hand, "Why is it that she's out on a date with Ben and not ... you?"

"Because Ben is this hunky hot stuff and I'm a lanky-"

"You bloody well know that it's not that, Rog," Brian insisted, his eyebrows raised.

"Fine," Roger grunted, "I might have said that I didn't want to be with her?"

"God," Brian sighed, his head dropping low in disappointment.

"And she might have walked out on me yelling, 'fuck you'," Roger added, "A couple of times actually."

Brian took the seat opposite to him, "You know, for a relatively straight-A's student you can be quite daft sometimes."

Roger looked up with a firm glare, "You don't get it, Bri. There's too much at stakes here. We've been friends well before I even knew how to tie my shoe laces. We made sure to steer clear of ever dating each other, we even made a blood pact about all this when we were nine."

The thing was, you've dated before and evidently so has Roger but never had he felt any sort of resentment towards the idea of you out with a different guy so why now? What was so different now?

"How do you know it's love?" Brian asked.

"It's written in her eyes," Roger admitted, a smile creeping up on his lips, "I look into them and I feel limitless... powerful even, I always have. It's like as long as I've got her in my life then I've got everything. I never ever wanted to cross the line and actually try asking her out."

A stiff blanket of silence wrapped around them, Brian's eyes attentively at Roger's while Roger's was gazing hard on the table.

"Besides," Roger sighed, "I'm not good for her a-and whatever I don't want to ruin whatever we already have."

"Well it's not like your friendship is in a splendid state either is it?" Brian shrugged, "I don't know, Rog. Either be her friend and support her and who he chooses to date or if you're not happy with that then let her know how you feel - who knows maybe she feels the same way."

"I hardly think so."

"Not with the way you've been treating her lately," Brian remarked and poured himself a glass of Roger's orange juice, "Too much pulp."

-

On the other side of the city was a rundown diner, surrounded with neon lights that would flicker out every hour or so and squeaking bar stools. It was charming enough with their ever so kind staff that it covered up the evident need for a renovation. This diner was home to nightly dinners with Brian and Roger when the three of you had just moved into the apartment but those were good days, back when you were all less pre-occupied and not to mention more loaded.

"American or not, Arthur Miller is brilliant," Ben acclaimed proudly and then taking a sip from his milkshake.

"I never claimed to disagree. All I'm saying is, how can one be in complete awe of a playwright whose play he hasn't even seen?" You pressed on with a challenging smirk, crossing your arms.

"Ah, see that's the added factor to what makes a celebratory playwright. A good playwright delivers award-winning plays while an exceptional playwright could do the very same but would also be celebrated for his the script on its own," he explains thoroughly, "Miller is so good in what he does that I wouldn't need to see the play - everything's in the book, my love."

My love. You gush at his words, breaking away from his entrancing eyes and staring at his copy of "Death of a Salesman" which was chucked with pieces of papers in almost every other page showing just how passionate he was for Arthur Miller. It was way past twilight and the sky has transitioned into an inky blue, glittered with stars. Your evening with Ben had been nothing but delightful, just as you had imagined it would be but occasionally when there would be momentary silence, Roger's voice echoes in your head prevalently, "I never said I wanted to be with you, did I?"

"Should we take off?" Ben asked, interrupting you from your thoughts of Roger, "We don't want to be late for your friend's gig, do we?"

"Gig?" You clarified right before it processed in your head, "Shit! Queen! Tonight!"

Your mind has been so preoccupied with Ben and your resentment towards Roger that you have forgotten about helping Roger with the confectionery for tonight's gig which, to add on, you two were already late for. You jumped up and rushed off with Ben back to the campus where their gig was going to be at.

-

"Liar, liar, they never ever let you win."

Queen echoed through the walls of the hall and it almost felt like your heart was thumping to the song. You were nervous to enter and perhaps you were over thinking it but you had never been late for any of their gigs and you knew just how much this would bother Roger.

"You okay, Y/N?" Ben asked, looking deep into your eyes and reaching for your hand.

"Yeah," you lied, swallowing hard, "Let's go?"

His thumb brushed the back of your hand and you could feel it calming your nerves, "Don't want to miss any more songs, do we?"

You nodded and he took his cue, opening the doors to the hall. The music roared louder and you could feel it getting into you, almost connecting to your soul. Perhaps it was you being bias but you really did love Queen's music. You could feel your worries slipping away to the music but that was before you looked up and found Roger's burning stare pouring into yours behind his drum set. He was angry. His glare never left yours and even though his lips were pouted as they normally were you could feel his jaw clenched as he drummed aggressively.

Roger was furious and he made sure you knew that.

-

Taglist: @justmesadgirl & @silvver-rose (I didn’t know if you wanted to be tagged so if you didn't, I’m sorry! But thank you so so so much for the support, it means the world to me, you don’t understand how much it made me smile when you guys commented heh)

[backseatofimpala-blog]

I'll be there for you

No warnings. SamxJess pairing, i do not own the charachters or the episode this is copied after (season 1, home) Over the next several months of traveling with Jess and his brother, Sam noticed how different Dean was, mostly how Dean seamed to shy away from women desperate for a quick lay, instead of seducing them. Dean stuck more to hustling pool and winning poker.

"Are you gay now?" Sam asked his brother after the case of the hookman, and he didn't even flirt with the collage girls. Dean gaped at his little brother.

"...the hell..." Dean mused slowly.

"Do you have a girl friend?" Sam probed on. Dean bitch faced his brother and heades for the bathroom door.

"Ok we're done talking... Jess control your man." Dean remarked.

"Give me a pair of hand cuffs and i will." Jess smirked. Dean smirked at his brother, giving him a hidden thumbs up and left the room.

"Be done by the time I get out this time." Dean smirked, and Sam scowled as Dean shutthe door. "Dont for get to suit up first, Sammy." Dean called through the door turning the shower on.

"I'm sorry, Jess." Sam groaned.

"Why is Dean so closed off." Jess asked.

"Life of a hunter, babe." Sam explained simply. Jess frowned.

"You aren't like that." She proclaimed.

"I was... two years ago, when we first met." Sam answered.

"Dean isnt nearly as stubborn as you, he'll be an easy nut to crack." Jess pulled Sam on to the bed and straddled his lap. Sam stares up at her his hazle eyes going soft.

"I dont know what I'd do with out you." Sam whispered to her. She smiled sand held his face tenderly in her hands.

"Mmmm, crash and burn." She replied over his. Sam held her close and kissed her letting her know just where he wanted this to go.

"Easy there, Sam." Jess smiled pulling away, Sam groaned loudly, "You need to sleep before I pull out the handcuffs."

"What makes you think after all this time I'll be the one in cuffs?" Sam smirked.

"Maybe living a hunters life has brought out the beast in me." She giggled stripping to her underwear and diving under the covers.

"Damn woman you cant keep teasing me like this." Sam chuckled hugging her closely.

"Go to sleep Sam, you get a good night's sleep and we'll dicuss the cuffing arrangements." Jess sighed getting comfortable in Sam's arms.

Jess awoke in ths middle of the night to Sam having a nightmare. She sat up and saw Dean watching, worry etched into his forehead.

"Should i wake him?" Jess whispered. Dean shrugged helplessly.

"Shhh, its ok Sam." Jess soothed a hand down Sam's arm, the young man calmed slightly and fell back in to a restful sleep. Jess looked up at Dean and shrugged with worry.

"He's a tough kid." Dean nodded settling back down into his bed.

The next morning Sam sat quietly on his and Jess's bed sketching something, while Dean rattled off cases they could work.

"Sacramento man shoots himself in the head three times..." Dean said enthusiastically, only to have Sam remain silent, "any of these things blowing up your skirt pal?"

"Maybe we should take a break for awhile.

"Wait I've seen this." Sam mutteres bolting out of bed and rummaged around for thier dads journal.

"Seen what?" Dean questioned. "What are you doing?"

"Dean, I know where we have to go next." Sam answered.

"Where?"

"Back home... back to Kansas." Sam explained. Dean glanced to Jess awkwardly.

"Ok random... where did that come?" Dean muttered.

"Ok this photo was take in front of the old house, the house mom died in?" Sam asked.

"Yeah..." Dean answered tightly.

"It didnt burn down right? I mean not completely? They rebuilt it, right."

"Yeah i guess so. Why? What the ya talkin bout?" Dean answered getting really lost.

Ok tjis is gonna sound crazy, but i think the people who live in our old house... i think they might be in danger." Sam stated.

"What makes you think that, babe?" Jess questioned.

"Uhh... i just... uhh... look just trust me on this ok."

"Ok... woah woah... trust you?" Dean questioned following Sam as he started packing.

"Yeah."

"Come on man thats weak. You gotta give me more than that." Deans voice raised slightly, getting frustrated with his brother.

"I can't really explain..." Sam mumbled.

"Well tough!" Dean proclaimed. Jess scowled at the older Winchester.

"Watch it Dean." She snapped. Dean glanced at her but ultimately ignored her.

"We arent going any where until you have a better explination than 'trust me." Dean stated firmly. Sam sighed and looked to Jess who still was glaring at Dean.

"I have these nightmares..." Sam started.

"We've noticed..." Dean crossed his arms nodding to Jess.

"...And sometimes... not always... they come true." Sam explained, pocketing his hands, head and shoulders slumping.

"Come again?" Dean almost laughed.

"I believe him." Jess cut in, "we should go to Kansas." She stated.

"Come on, people have wierd ass dreams all thw time. I have a friend who dreamed she worked at KFC with Todd the wraith from Stargate Atlantis." Dean exclaimed.

"Five months ago i didn't believe in monsters. But since you interupte our lives I've questioned everything ive ever believed in! We were attacked by a windingo, ghost water child, plane demons, thee bloody mary, a shapeshifter, and a swarm of fucking nasty killer bugs!" Jess ranted, "dont you think its probable that maybe Sam could be having dream visions." Jess snapped.

"Sam i can't go backthere

"We are going to check on this family in Kansas, Dean." Jess stated firmly. Dean swallowed hard and nodded.

"Ok, I'll go get the car ready." Dean nodded walking out.

"Thank you, Jess." Sam sighes. She smiled and kissed his cheek.

"Tell me about what happened to your mom as we get ready to go. "

Dean leaned heavily on the impala, trying to catch his breath. He pulled out his phone. He psusef over dads name in his contacts then scrold back up to the C's. He dialed the number and waited.

"Ello beastie!" The chippet voice brought a smile to Dean's worried face.

"Hey Cali. It's always good to hear from ya." Dean smiled.

"You sound a bit worried... what's up." She questioned.

"Sam wants to go home..."

"To Stanford? I dont think that's such a good idea. Everyone there thinks they died when the house burnt down." Cali explained urgently.

"No... not stanford... home... Kansas... where mom..."

"Oh...." she interuptsd with comprehension. "I thought you swore you were never going back there."

"I did, but Sam had a nightmere someone dies in the house... so he and Jess out voted me... son of a bitch, i feel like a third wheel with these two..."

"I know what you mean... anyway back to Kansas, huh? When are you guys leaving..."

"As soon as they pack up..." Dean answered, sighing heavily.

"Ok Dean take a deep breath and relax. Everything is gonna be ok." She assured. Dean took a deep breath and nodded.

"Ok, i gotta go." Dean hung up as Sam and Jess walked out of the room.

When they got to Lawrence they found Missouri. Before they knocked the door opened.

"Don't just stand there gaping get on in here." Missouri ordered turning away from them. "close the door Dean, and quit your cussin'." Missouri ordered.

"I didn't say anything." Dean argued, following Missouri into the living room.

"Missouri is a very inept type of psychic from Africa."

"Cali?" Dean questioned. "Wh... what are you doing here? in Kansas?" He asked.

"You called... and you sounded really upset. So I'm here." Jess cooed loudly earning a glare from both Dean and Cali. "...and made apple pie." Cali finished with a smile setting a plate of the warm food in frontof him. Dean eagerly took a bite groaned in apprciation.

"Ok let's talk about the case." Cali smiled. "I'll keep it distracted while you four get the purification bags in the walls..."

"How are you going to keep it distracted." Jess asked.

"Well I..." Cali started glancing at Dean who was sti stuffing his face.

"Leave that part of the plan up to ms. Cali." Missouri stated. "Now when it realizes whats going on things will get ugly."

Cali fought the seemingly invisible foe easily. She shook her head following its movement's.

"I can see you stupid." She smirked.

"What are you." It hissed.

"Im the nightmere to nightmares like you." She replied.

"Your eyes are black as a demons." It hissed circling her.

"A, they arent actually demons per se... and B, I'm WAY worse for you than a demon." She smiled. It remained silent a long moment.

"GRIMM!" It snarled.

"Bingo bitch!" She laughed then grunted as it used its telekinesis to push her back. "Are you guys done yet!" Cali bellowed.

"Just finished." Dean reported.

"It didn't work."Cali grunted.

"It had to of worked!" Missouri proclaimed.

"NO!" Cali exclaimed as Sam and Dean slamed up to the wall. "Leave them alone!" She shouted pushing against the poltrigists telekinesis. Next thing Dean knew thw force on his chest was gone ad Cali chopped the things head off with a long silver triangular shaped blade. She huffed and looked at her companions.

"Damn!" The brothers said at the same time.

"Fat lotta good you twits did." She snorted.

"That it? Its over?" Jess panted. @strangeangel99 @clockworkmorningglory

[dreamsanddreams88]

Dream dump

Super messed up dream where alex cheated with my mom!!! She was gone for a trip and came back and admitted it to me like it was an accident. My dad didnt care. Also alex had just become my step brother or step cousin cuz his dad got married to like my aunt? Anyway I worked with jenn and izzy and they knew. I ate a bag if chex mix and yelled at them.

Matt n anne had reception or wedding, family was super rude af so he told me to make thank you notes only for specific people. Then I was in Little witch academia, brooms were malfunctioning because they were made by Elon Musk. We left his mansion and flew around under these power poles that were arcing and letting off electricity. I was in the forest and ran down this steep hill with dead and falling trees in the night. I ran to the work lockup and homeless guys started appearing and following me, flew away on my broom.

Was staying at this haunted old mansion. My mom might have used to live there? I was in a room with 3 fireplaces going, tried to put them out. Then in bathroom when a door to the laundry kept opening by itself, very creepy. Then I was there with a whole class, everyone had submitted a drawing of a bio of themselves but no one told me cuz hadn't worked with a group. One girl there I was really jealous of, she was like Linnea and Tedi combined. Her drawing was of her with a black person saying stuff about equality, but her bio also said she was a cheerleader so I was like, that's how shes so good at being social

Dreamed I had been moved into a group home cuz of mental health, but then got into some school or university with some elite girl dorm or sorority? Idk I went from one group in a nice house to a really big group in dorm style room with bunk beds. Girls were all really cool, Kaitlyn corkery was there and didnt remember me. Thought she was gonna be stuck up but she wanted to hang out. Went to some event or meal, lots of people drunk, maybe it was winter with ice skating? Brought Alex's skateboard. Courtney anderson got kicked out of our group, tried to be soothing but she was reading one of my cover letters and crying that she didnt have the experience.

Dreamed I was still dating elliot but wanted to dump him for alex, but I was also flirting/making out w Nina who was also Jennifer Lawrence at the same time? I felt really shitty and hadn't spoken to eliot for days and days, also Sirius black was his godfather and had just died. Went to the Porters house which was this big historic place everyone hung out. Then was looking for bats and a camping spot with work crew. Wanted to drive to moquoketa caves but it was late at night. Texted olivia hottle about her being pregnant all the time? Also Lauren showed up and was trying to show me something or be a nice sister to me

I was in a book store looking at the manga and comics and there was huge section on aadams family, apparently started in 20s by same guy as Opus? First book had goth lady dating a cute penguin, named Alice Walker. Movie made about it, she was Greek orthodox and family was mad she was wearing socks instead of hose, then woke up

Tourmaline came over, she forgot my name. Had asked someone 2 sing her a lullaby on FB and I almost did but then mad she forgot my name. She went by They also, forgot when introducing her to parents. She started making hot dogs in our kitchen, burnt them in oven. Smthn bout Davin being my step grandpa somehow? Then at this family reunion, big neighbors house was a muppet face that talked. King bumi was there testing our bending, I was the avatar but didnt know firebending yet, dodged him with water and air. He threw rocks and kids tried to find them, I knew he was gonna hang onto one. Let a little toddler have it instead and win his contest. Then back in high school at lunch, everyone outside. Couldn't find friends, saw Nate and elliot doing hackey sack but didnt want to be around them. Went looking for allison Richmond?

Rly scary, ppl were in black mirror-esque simulation where I kept dying but could come back to choose different choice and keep going. Mine was at reunion party with Ellen, not eating weird toadstool. Alex was in a mansion party, people there drank this mix of sodas that turned them into fast zombies, his doc warned him to hide but they found him in a few different places. In one, he found vaccine to it and put a boy to sleep, I thought syringe was poison and he was gonna shoot him but it was a vaccine and alex and bay kept running thru the house to hide. I got caught by little kid with bloody eyes, tried to stab him but he didnt care. Cello music happening, slow motion. Also smthn bout trying to find a different desktop pic cuz mine had Mike in it even tho alex didnt know that was him, all my other pics were old ones with me and elliot in high school and my hair was short and flipped out at the bottom, looked really bad. Then zombie dream continued after waking up n sleeping again, I was young teen with bunch of others and my parents, stormy night, we were travelling to that mansion and I was trying to warn everyone to hide cuz no one knew about the zombies. Then was on weird spiderman themed waterpark ride, somebody in costume yanked my hair as I was going down slide, got really mad but couldn't find them afterwards because everyone was in spiderman costumes

Dreamed I was camping 4 work again on the steep trail at elwha dam. There was a deep cave I didnt go into. We were leaving and I had all this laundry to do. Then went to alex's mom or dad house, brad was there and also elliot. He kept telling me I had to sleep with him because we were still dating, but I knew he had gotten married cuz jenna went to the wedding and took pics. Also something with Charlotte and her friend, they were leaving school for the summer and stole sheet music cuz they both played violin, and no one was allowed to keep the music? I was jealous that she played violin

Dreamed all these women who were friends got really fucked up on drugs and jumped off a balcony at a church and died. The last one looked kinda like america ferrera and she stopped and saw them below her and froze up until someone rescued her. Really sad, I was one of the friends I guess. We were on a trip together and like 3 of us lived, it was just a 3 day weekend trip. Was avoiding talking about them, went swimming naked in this creek in a forest but some guys and their kids showed up so I had to sneak out. Everyone reminiscing about women who died, one was that actress the mom from EASY A. She always told jokes about her super grip strength, was really funny. America ferrera was friends with this woman who was huge like andre the giant, her head was ENORMOUS. Then was being driven home by this lady on a weird car/train hybrid, we were careening along this track like flying in the air at times. Stopped in the forest, then the vehicle became more like an excavator

Was in van outside mall, got held up by Lora and her sister and mom, they had guns and ordered everyone out. I had a gun hidden and I headshot both sisters and tell their mom to put her weapon down. Then standing in circle with lotr cast, we had just ended filming? Was holding pinkies with sean astin and viggo, both being very flirty. Then was camping with alex n his family, we all had our own cars. Me n him left to go bone somewhere private, run into a wild boar and her babies. I climb up onto a random bookshelf, but she climbs using her mouth. I flatten her under a huge book and I have a knife but cuts do no damage. I knock her off the shelf but then alex is still on the ground, then I woke up

Was working as a reporter for Rebecca from NOSC but it was at a college. Kept reminding everyone that women dont make as much money, was gonna research n report about it with all the women at the school. Trying to play computer game and Rebecca got mad I didnt have enough work, said I was gonna report about rush Limbaugh and how some whole govt branch he was in was rigged and set people up to fail, rebecca got really excited but I was worried cuz I didnt know amything about politics

On lake w my mom, she could sing like Elsa n it was echoing on the water. Then funeral procession went across with floating coffin n bowling alley stuff, lady who owned bowling alley had died. I started crying pretty hard even tho I didnt know her. Smthn bout going back to ecos, or I had volunteered there for a season. Then was being chased down by people cuz they wanted to execute me and another person. Daniel had heard of the zodiac killer when he was a kid

Dreamed olivia hill betrayed me. Her family worked for a bridal photo company n I was in this big room looked kinda like church, she had acted all nice to me and then did something horrible, idr what, and gleefully gave this evil speech about how she fooled me and actually hated my guts. I might have punched her? I did tell her I always hated her shitty mom, and that's why she probably betrayed me. Also smthn about working for the tribe again with kenzie and allyce doing swamp science

Me n alex trying to move to iowa, thinkin bout what friends I have left in either place. Smthn before that too idr

[kennapaige68773]

Maze Runner Fanfic

Damsel in Distress Wicked goes to new lows by sending a little girl to the glade. I'm not a Theresa fan so I pretend she's not there lol Baby blue eyes fly open at the sound of metal on metal. Her body gets tossed in the air as the box she's in starts moving upwards. Her screams pierce the air but nobody can hear her. Her tiny frame trembles in fear and pain. She rolls over just in time to vomit, a low groan squeezes its way out of her ever tightening throat. "Help me!" She chokes out. She is tossed into the air again as the box comes to a sudden stop. This time she hits her head against something made if wood, her head oozes blood and her vision swirls. More metal on metal and some low light shines in on her. Then it's silent. "What the shuck?" An accented voice barks. "Is that another shucking kid?" Another voice yells. A swarm of voices over lap eachother. She shakes even harder. "Not just a kid, a girl" the accented voice says. There's a loud thud and the box shakes. Someones jumped down next to her, she whimpers and stays very still. "We're not gonna hurt you, you're safe now" the boy says, "I'm Newt" "I wanna go home" You wail. Tears stream down your face, your leg hurts so bad and you just want to close your eyes. Newt takes a step closer, his fingertips brush over your hip and you let out a cry. His fingers come away bloody. "Medjacks!" He roars, "she's hurt bad, We needa get her outta here real quick!" More people jump down and shake the box. "Please don't touch me" You sob. Hands grab at you and turn You on your back. You're lifted up up up and other sets of hands grab you. You're carried away from the box and away from Newt. His pale face the last thing you see before entering the makeshift hut. "We're gonna take good care of you but we need you to relax, take deep breaths honey" one of the boys says. "My name's Clint and this is Jeff, listen to him and breath ok?" The other boy says, giving you a warm smile. You take some slow shakey breaths, "my leg! " you whimper. "We know sweetheart, does anything else hurt? " Clint asks. You give a tiny nod, "everything" You whisper. "Ok just keep on breathing" he tells you, "Jeff her leg is shattered, she may never walk again" he tries to whisper. Newt is here again, He holds your hands tight. Clint and him share a look and some unspoken words. "Honey this is gonna hurt like hell but we need to fix your leg" Newt says. You start to panic, "don't touch me, please no no no!" You try to fight but someone's holding you down, cold hands grab your broken leg and you scream. "On the count of three" You hear Jeff say nervously. "One" "Don't dont it hurts please!" "Two" You swing your arms trying to get the boys off of you . "Three" You feel the snap as your bones are pushed back into your body and realigned. If you weren't so close to unconsciousness you could have probably heard the snap too. Tears stream down your face. They wrap your leg up as you finally close your eyes. "I've never heard someone in so much pain" Newt tells Alby sadly. " she's just a child but she was put through so much pain" "You hollered like that when they fixed up your leg, ya know?" Alby huffs, "the way the bones were broken reminds me of you as well" Newt nods solemnly "Shes been beaten, cut, burnt, and starved for what looks like a few years" Jeff says as he patches up a few more cuts on her abdomen. Newt rubs his face, "and what's that on the back of her neck, it's peaking out from her shirt" Her collar is pulled back and her body is pushed so she's lying on her side. PROPERTY OF WICKED SUBJECT C7 THE DAMSEL

[momscookingthebooks]

★.•**•.★ NEW RELEASE CHAPTER BLOG TOUR ★.•**•.★

YES ! We get to have Gina Wynn’s Newest release What You Wish For. Part 1

Readers, every day you get a snippet of chapter 1. Don’t forget to follow so you don’t miss a bit.

Title: What you wish for

Author: Gina Wynn

Genre: Romantic, Woman Fiction

Release Date: May 12

Tour Date: May 9 - 12

Hosted By Teaser Addicts PR

BLURB

When Maggie Forrester wakes up naked in bed with her boss, iceman Will Brian, she's sure it must be a dream. Or a feverish hallucination at the very least. But magic takes over when she begins to experience an impossible other life—complete with an alternate husband—and she's forced to confront the reality of the man she loves versus the man she's fallen in love with.

After secrets she believed long buried surface, both of Maggie's realities are threatened. As the truth of her past comes to light, she must decide which man she truly loves and which life she wants to live—if the choice is even hers to make. Sometimes, true love is even worth wishing for.

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Chapter 1 Part 1

His knee rested against the back of my leg. A possessive arm wrapped over my waist, and a forehead nestled against my hair. Jake must have arrived home earlier than he expected from the stag weekend and melded to me during the night. We lay skin against skin, and I relaxed into his hold as warmth and familiarity seeped from him. The bubble of safety only my husband could provide surrounded me.

A smile tugged the corner of my lips as naughty thoughts of pleasure yet-to- come flashed through my head. I didn’t even bother to open my eyes as I wriggled around to return his hug, being sure to inject enough movement to bounce him awake. His chest rose and fell against my cheek with his every breath, and his heartbeat thudded in my ear. Home was where that heart was.

“Good morning, Maggie.” His melted chocolate voice, still drowsy with sleep, tickled my neck.

Not Jake.

Panic jolted me as my eyes flew open, and I launched over the side of the bed, failing in my attempt to look away as I did so. With the long glance I took by mistake, I’d require brain bleach to scrub him from my mind. I huddled out of his line of sight with my stare—strong enough to have burnt a hole through the man—firmly fixed on unfamiliar carpet.

Bloody hell. My boss. All of him. In the bed I’d exited at warp speed.

I risked another quick glance in his direction. He lay propped on his side, dark hair tousled, smiling at me in a new lazy way. Bloody, bloody hell. I repeat, my boss. My boss, Will Brian.

Never Will Brian, always Mr. Brian. I corrected myself to the office formality he insisted on as I tried to look at him without seeing anything but his face. Holy chest skin, Batman. Well-defined muscular temptation in flesh form. Mr. Brian with really sexy bedhead. Bloody hell, again.

The horror crawling through me shut down all rational thought, narrowing my entire focus to the bedroom. His bedroom?

One room. Me. Him.

Nothing else.

The devil had woken up with frostbite. It was the only possible explanation to my world going mad. I inhaled a shaky breath, my brain stuck on one thought. Mr. Brian. Surely, I harboured zero attraction to him? Especially as he favoured issuing orders to me in a snappy coffee-breath voice in our usual day-to-day routine. Waking in his arms was quite the quantum leap from our normal yes, Mr. Brian, of course, Mr. Brian, I’ll hold all your calls, Mr. Brian relationship.

I closed my eyes against the view, although it didn’t help me ignore him. His image had seared itself to the inside of my eyelids, and no girl wanted a permanent reminder of her boss.

Really. No attraction, whatsoever. None at all. Because I’d never noticed his tight, firm... Never mind. Or the way he walked as

I followed him along the corridor at work. Okay. So, I’d taken a non-existent—or maybe ever-so-slight—inappropriate boss fantasy right to sleeping in bed with the man. I’d come a long way.

I’d have said my wisdom was on the line, except ending up in his bed rated way worse than unwise. Spelling Mr. Brian as Mr. Brain on company documents was unwise—and stupid. Filing January invoices in December was unwise—and, according to Mr. Brian, worse than stupid. This...this verged on being very, very bad—and so much more than stupid. Unforgiveable, if I forced myself to be honest.

Note to self: Career suicide—never the way to ask for a pay increase.

“What, no ‘good morning, Will’?” He chuckled, and I didn’t know if my sudden goose bumps came from extreme lack of blankets or the unnervingly attractive sound of his amusement.

His laughter, somehow hauntingly familiar and comforting, wrapped me in unexpected safety. He never laughed at the office or, if he did, he went somewhere private to do it. Either way, he never seemed to find anything funny about working.

In our office.With me at his professional beck and call. The fact I relaxed a little in his presence must have been the result of my

aspirations to find my inner Zen one day. I channelled Yoda and did imaginary breathing exercises, then clamped down on my bubble of hysteria before it rose any

further up my throat. Relaxation, inner calm, and enlightenment? Not likely. I flashed a quick grimace, hoping to trigger the off-switch to my inner-monologue.

“Um. Hi...Will.” My voice came out part mumble, part squeak, as I crouched by the bed, still refusing to look at him as I referred to my always-formal boss by his first name in the most ridiculous of situations.

“Did I scare you?”

I dared a hasty glance, and he arched an eyebrow in amusement. Heat rushed through me, then cold horror as fresh awareness dawned. My buttocks rested on my calves as I squatted. My nipples hardened in the cool air as I huddled outside the covers. I was naked.

The situation couldn’t get worse.

Trying my best for nonchalance, I grasped the closest corner of the duvet and inched it towards me, intent on hiding as much flesh as possible. I released a slow, shallow breath as each fractional movement concealed more of my awkward form.

“Hey!” With laughter in his tone, he snagged the high thread-count covers back to his side of the bed. “You’re making me cold!”

I risked another peek over at him before searing afresh at his identical extreme lack of clothes. Naked...in bed. Oh God, naked in bed with my naked boss. No memory of getting there. And I’d started to grow cold again, too.

Note to self: Things could always get worse. Always.

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AUTHOR BIO

From a magical land of castles and kings (Okay, it’s England), Gina doesn’t feel as old as she looks, owns three children who can’t be tamed, and writes in spare – usually stolen – time. She sometimes bakes—not always with quite the desired results, and has found the only solution to keeping the characters in her head quiet is to placate them with lots of other lovely books and worlds. She has been published by Decadent Publishing, who currently have two of her books, both of which are romance titles – “Her Dollmaker’s Desire” and “Her Undercover Christmas”.

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Website: http://ginawriteswords.com/

Email: ginawriteswords@gmail.com