#to do something sooner rather than later and its not like you can't get it removed if its not working out so....whatever

[californiaquail]

gynecologist office texted me (?) telling me they have to reschedule my appointment in july (which was the soonest i could get in may) and the next available one is not until august. thinking i might just go somewhere else for a damn iud since they think i need to do that before insurance will cover surgery

[bhaalble]

Back on my Wyll script doctor because I was talking about it with a friend. Specifically imagining a version of Wyll's big Character Choice that felt like it had some actual teeth.

Imagine a world where instead of a cartoon evil hot lady Mizora and Wyll's relationship actually had some complexity to it and like. some genuine push and pull which gives him temptation to stay. I just keep thinking about this 17 year old who his whole life wanted more than anything to be a hero, who got his chance to do something heroic and selfless and save the city from certain doom, and his reward is getting kicked out because he did it the "wrong way".

Imagine if instead of forcing his silence, Mizora instead comforted him. How unbelievably cruel of your father! Well...since you've nowhere else to go, why not stick with me? We make a pretty good team, as it turns out, and I can get you a whole list of monsters who need killing. Plenty of devils and demons loose in your world targetting all sorts of innocents. Our interests can keep aligning, and you get a place to sleep when you need it.

Wyll makes his peace with it, because he has nothing and no one. And Mizora's not GOOD maybe, not by Ulder Ravengard's definition. But she's fun. She delights in his growth. And she does certainly keep direct him at greater evils, devils who really do need killing. And if she spies on his every waking moment, well, she worries. If she sends him after the occasional innocent, well, she had people who she has to answer to as well. She's a devil, how much can he fault her for her nature? She's always seemed like she knew where the line was...

Karlach (and the player) express their doubts, of course, but for act one at least he's defensive. Yes, she punished him and he hates it and its miserable but....he was in breach of contract! She's NEVER gone outside its bounds, she's always stuck very closely to their agreement. Wyll, who wants so badly to trust others and believe everyone has the chance for good, can't find it in him to believe the worst even of a devil.

And Mizora is FOND of Wyll, loves him even in her way. As a cherished pet, as a trusted tool, as a best-laid plan. Never enough to choose his own well-being over her own agenda, never enough to see him as his own person. He's her little project, the long shot noble brat she gambled on when Tiamat decided to get too big for her britches. And it paid off! Wyll always pays off, currying her all the favor from Zariel she so desperately craves. And who are you, or anyone, to come between them? She's treated him well. As she's quick to remind him, she wanted him when no one else did, aided him while the rest of his city slept snug in their beds. And if Ulder Ravengard didn't want a son with a whiff of infernal, then do you REALLY think he'd want you with lovely horns and Avernus in your blood?

You discover his father's been taken. Beyond igniting a lot of old feelings, it brings up a question of succession. Of course, Florrick isnt giving up on him, but if not...there aren't currently any likely candidates to take over the Flaming Fists. Not trustworthy ones. Florrick will take the position, but everyone knows in the back of his mind Ulder never really stopped planning for it to be Wyll. With the city in chaos and a cult army on the rise, they may need an answer sooner rather than later. Wyll feels the call of the Gate, but knows just as well that Mizora wouldn't want him to return in such an official capacity.

For the first time ever the leash starts to chafe in a way he can't keep pushing through.

Act 2 rolls around. Mizora sends up the Warlock signal. After potentially some encouragement from the player, Wyll (NOT THE PLAYER. I DONT KNOW WHY ITS THE PLAYER IN THE GAME ITS WEIRD) hesitantly proposes that maybe, if he does this....they can do a renegotiation of his contract. Not break it, he assures her quickly! Just....reopen the terms, take a looks at the agreement. Maybe discuss an exit ramp? After all....I mean, neither of us truly thought I'd be doing this forever, did we?

Based on Mizora's reaction. Yeah she did.

But fine. She agrees. And Wyll's not mad that it turns out you're rescuing her, not a nameless "operative" for Zariel. He would've done that on his own had she asked. Its the fact that she apparently didn't feel like being honest, that she let him fret and worry about potentially handing Zariel back some runaway for basically no reason. Its the fact that she came here to check in on the cult that abducted his FATHER just to see if Zariel could make any use of them. And its the fact that she seems surprised and annoyed that ANY of this bothers him.

All this builds, of course, to the final confrontation. The basic elements are the same. Mizora outside the coronation (this time needling at Wyll, "I'll be at camp if you're not too high and mighty to consort with the likes of me anymore"), Ulder tadpoled and fighting it. Mizora makes her offer. I can end the contract now, and you're free to go running after daddy (who won't want you btw! not like I do!). You'll lose all your powers, all my aid, all those juicy quests to chase down the greatest monsters in the hells. Take on your father's job and settle in for a life of misery and compromise and only doing as much good as the nobles will let you. Or: pledge yourself to me, eternally. I'll give you a boatload of new powers and eternal life to boot, so long as you serve as my sword and shield.

From there I think three endings branch out, and with it three classes for Wyll. If he stays with Mizora, accepts a relationship where he will never be an equal or a free agent in exchange for the affirmation he wants so badly from his father, he remains a Warlock, with some juiced stats and extra spell slots, along with shiny new gear. If he pledges to follow in his father's footsteps, he instead becomes an Oath of Devotion paladin, pledging himself in service to Tyr, if with a sense of doomed finality. The Blade of Frontiers is officially retired, and along with it any identity he has outside of being his father's son. Or the third path, break the contract without taking his father's role. He will look for his father, yes, but whether or not you find him he's going back to his roots, travelling around to do some good in the world (as the Blade of Frontiers) or kicking ass in the Hells with Karlach (as the Blade of Avernus). In this timeline he becomes a fighter, with a default preference for Eldritch Knight.

What's important: if he breaks his contract then Mizora is NOT hanging around camp. She will leave in a fury, accidentally bound by her own word to withdraw her influence completely if he breaks his contract. She may still approach the player some night to sleep with the player, framed for high approval/romanced players and her trying to take something back from Wyll. But Wyll will have to learn how to define himself without her breathing down his neck, without keeping her happy dominating his every thought. Its nervewracking, and even lonesome at times...but its freedom. And, perhaps, that's worth a little bit of lonesomeness.

[sk3tch404]

Yandere Weeping Clown Thoughts!!

CW: Nothing too bad, just your usual creeper, manipulation, and analysis(?) on his character. Tbh hes so yandere coded that everything blurs together atp (and I'm using "yandere coded" sort of loosely bc that makes me sound like a yandere enabler or smth, which like, lol no but in fiction yeah funne). Called him Joker bc it was easier to use/remember than Weepy, and also bc they called them that in all the lore drop so 🤷‍♀️

A/n: Just saw the new Hullabaloo lore drop and IDV has taken me back into its clutches. He is so yandere material 🫶 Proof read enough to go "that's postable."

Joker is quite sensitive to his darlings perception of him. He always tries to do the right thing, tries to please you so that when you smile at him, that strangely unfamiliar warmth spreads through his chest. A smile tugging on the corners of his mouth, stringing his lips up as if he were a puppet. And a puppet of your design he shall be if you wished it so.

Joker is definitely a worshipping sort of yandere. He'll do most of anything for his darling if it made them just a teeny bit closer. Any progress is better than no progress. Even if it means visiting you in the dead of night to "check on you," or often "bumping into you" in places that you frequent at the manor. He'll stop bothering you if you reject his advances, but he'll come back around sooner or later. Joker doesn't want you to hate him, but he also doesn't want to be away from you! Although you may say some hurtful things like, "It's making me uncomfortable, sorry," or, "Can you leave me alone for a while," he knows deep down that if he teeters around the boundaries you set for long enough, he can wiggle his way through and to your heart. At least, that's what he hopes.

Despite his subservient nature to his darling, Joker isn't so obedient around others. He has his more introverted traits for sure, but his sensitivity to anger is fragile, especially when it comes to you. Joker doesn't have many qualms about taking a stand for you or himself if it came to it. He wants to be your protector, so he isn't very afraid to say something if he feels the need to. It can become quite the scene if the other party doesn't back down, making either you or someone else the mediator of the debacle. It's exhausting to have to manage your persistent follower, but it's better to handle a situation rather than let it spiral out of control, leaving the consequences of his mental break to you.

With his fragility also comes his keen eye for any chances to take advantage of a situation. Joker isn't very intimidating physically or feared for being calculating, but he is usually dismissed, and that makes for perfect cover if he plays his cards right. Framing people for his crimes can be a walk in the park depending on the situation, and manipulating those weaker than him isn't something he wholeheartedly takes pride in, but if it's for you, if it's for you, the singular most important person and one he adores most in his rotten life, then he's happy to oblige. If it wins you over in the end, then that's all that matters, right?

Joker will try to convince his darling to stay by his side and will get more desperate depending on the circumstances. He's not a kidnapper type, more of an idealist. Not to confuse that with delusional though. Joker knows full well how you probably feel about your strained relationship, but if he doesn't try now, he'll never get to be with you, and that's unacceptable. He wants to live a romantic and sweet life with you day in and day out, so he'd hate to see you miserable and locked up. If he can't love you the way he wants to, then what would be the point?

Even with that, Joker isn't above guilt tripping or petty manipulation tactics like that. He really can be unpredictable at times and can become very dangerous if his darling constantly shows no interest. Although he is a romantic idealist in his mind with you, he's also the type to slip into the "if I can't have you, no one can" mentality. He might just end up hurting his darling, but it won't be anything too drastic by the time it happens. Joker would feel terrible, terrified, and utterly disgusted with himself after seeing your petrified state. He'd drop to his knees and attempt to mutter consoling words, somewhat even begging for your forgiveness.

"Y- Y/n, no, oh no, no... Y/n, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please. Don't cry, I didn't mean to. I truly am sorry. I had just- I wasn't thinking straight. I would never hurt you. If only you hadn't done this, then... No, just come back to me Y/n."

He is still quite demanding even while apologizing, which would make your fear even greater. Joker doesn't want to force his darling's hand, but if it really came down to it, he'd give his darling a grade A verbally manipulative beat down. He'll use anything and everything against you so that all else but him looks ugly in that moment. Sure being at the receiving end of his unstable anger was horrifying, but be honest with yourself, were it not for him who has saved you countless times in both matches and inside the manor, you would be long dead by now. Anything is on the table, anything just so you will come back to him once more. He has little to no guilt in it, just the fear that he will seriously break if you're still in a right state of mind. So, in turn, he'll unfortunately have to break you first.

[luveline]

hey lovely! <3 can i request a little something for aaron hotchner? maybe something where he’s being jealous/protective? i adore the way you write him! :)

this is like a very mini fic it's all over the place ♡ thank you for your request!! fem!reader cw weird guy tries to kiss you

You're in New Jersey of all places trying to find a serial killer, and in your opinion, Hotch is being entirely unprofessional. 

You're also really enjoying it, but that's not the point. 

There's a police officer that isn't flirting with you, really, more like he's a touchy guy in general. You're working as the conduit between the team and the police force, and so every time you tell this touchy guy something, it's an opportunity for him to say thank you.

This guy says thank you with a quick shoulder touch. 

You feel guilty, admittedly. While Hotch isn't quite your boyfriend, he isn't not your boyfriend — you're working it out. Or rather, he's working it out. You'd walk into the middle of the road if he asked you to, but Hotch has hang ups about interwork relationships. He's hesitant because he worries about the inherent power imbalance between you. 

It's fine though. You're hoping he'll come around eventually. And eventually might come sooner rather than later, with the way he's glaring holes in this guy's head. 

"Is he making you uncomfortable?" Hotch asks you. 

The door closes behind your guilty police officer. You'd prefer it if the police officer didn't touch you at all, but he isn't necessarily making you uncomfortable.

"It's alright," you placate, feeling the eyes of both Spencer and Rossi on you like laser beams. 

Hotch nods and goes back to work. A small tell, and huge in the eyes of profilers. 

You get further into the case and forget about the guy's touches, but you don't think Hotch can. He sits next to you at every opportunity, and insists you ride shotgun on the way back to the hotel. You have separate rooms, wouldn't dream of ever sharing one with him, so it shocks you like lightning when he invites you in for 'coffee'. 

You sit on the end of his bed. 

"Are you mad at me?" you ask, a moment of weakness. 

He's very tense. Less so at your question, he pulls his weight off of the closed door and sits beside you on the bed. "Of course not." Then, because he's too smart and too himself to avoid the issue, "I'm sorry if I'm being forward." 

"I like you, Hotch. You know I do," you say. In lieu of, Be forward, please. You don't speak with any particular inflection. It's the stone cold truth, and you aren't mad at him for anything. Not his hesitancy to be with you, or his jealousy. 

"You don't think it's arrogant?" he asks. 

"I think it's kind of nice. It's reassuring," you amend softly, "to know you want me to yourself." 

That sounded better in your head. Thankfully, all Hotch does is nod. "I do." 

"Okay, good. You can keep glaring at Officer Paulson, then." 

He smiles at you, half defeat, half fondness. "His name is Poulton." 

"Is it?" 

His smile doubles. He places his hand across the sheets, palm up. You place your hand in his. 

"You really need to get it together," you joke lightly. 

"I know," he says. 

The next day, you're back in the conference room of the Cherry Hill police department, hand pretty much on fire still from his touch where its resting on the desk as you jot down notes. Each time you remember how he'd held it, you'd fingers curl in on themselves, looking for Hotch's hand and not finding it. 

You write down notes, not to be selfish, but because it really helps you connect the dots. You're not like Spencer, you can't store an infinite amount of knowledge up in your brain. You need space and time to work it out. 

A cup of coffee appears to your right. A hand presses flat to the space between your shoulder blades. You beam at the tiny thumb movements and turn in your seat. "Oh… my god. Officer Pauls-ton." You laugh awkwardly, shrugging out from under his hand. "I thought you were someone else." 

"I noticed you in here all by yourself and figured you could use some company." 

Even if you'd been alone, and you had wanted company, and this was a dimension where Hotch didn't exist, Poulton's hand absolutely should not have been where it was. Now you're uncomfortable. 

"Oh, no, that's alright. I'm just trying to make some connections here while everyone's out." 

What a terrible thing to admit. You can practically see the excitement on his face. 

"Yeah? They always leave the pretty one behind?" 

You laugh without meaning to. Usually, Spencer is the one running point, so he's technically right. "You could say that." 

"This all seems pretty boring."

You lean away as he leans forward. You're surprised — you've never been cornered like this, whether he means to do it or not. 

"It's my job," you explain. 

"Now why would a girl like you do something so gruesome?" 

"Uh-" You laugh clumsily, wondering how the fuck you're gonna get out of this situation. You start by standing up and turning to him completely, the backs of your thighs pressed against the desk you'd been working on hard enough to ache. "A girl like me? I love the work we do." 

"You don't find it boring?" 

"Sometimes, but-" 

"I can think of a few ways to liven it up in here." 

This is the kind of thing your girlfriend's have told you about, over-imposing creeps who use a facade of niceness to get close. Officer Poulton has known you for all of three days, and while you've been friendly, you've never given any indication that you want to be seduced in a public work space.

"No, I don't think so." 

"Come on, baby." 

He steps toward you, hands moving to take your waist. You side step around him, eyes on the door, and he follows. 

His fingers close around your wrist, and he says, "Where are you going?" 

You yank your hand away and glare at him, other hand behind you and opening the door. You close it between you. You want to call someone. One of your friends, your team. Your heart races. 

You can't tell if you were in danger or not. 

You make your way through the bullpen to the women's restroom and hide in one of the stalls, typing a quick text to Garcia, who's most likely to respond. 

Weirdo just tried to kiss me at CH PD. Hiding in the bathroom. Swear some guys see a polite smile and take it as enthusiasm. :[ 

You don't want her to panic, so you add, It's fine, though. How are things back home?

You spend a little time in there, as much as you can allow, hoping desperately that Officer Poulton has left the conference room so you can get back to work in peace. 

he did wt? R u ok??? wts his address?

The bathroom smells like bleach, and the toilet tank behind you drips. It's cold, and you feel an odd mixture of embarrassed and ashamed, though you don't have any reason to feel either. 

I must have said something to him, you think scornfully. Something that made him think- 

You shake your head. That guy's just an oddball. He saw signals where there weren't any. You didn't do anything wrong. 

After some mild internal debate you stand up to face the music. You're barely a step outside of the bathroom when you're bumping into Emily, who's expression floods with relief. 

"What happened?" she asks urgently. 

"What?" 

"Garcia said some guy came onto you? Officer Touchy?" Her eyes are sympathetic, her lips pinched into a friendly, pitying pout. 

You gawp. "She told you?" 

"What did he do?" 

"Nothing awful, he just- he put hid hand behind my back and I- he was leaning over me so I tried to leave and he grabbed my wrist. It wasn't anything more than that." 

"He grabbed you?" she asks. 

You look up to find Hotch a few paces behind. His expression is unreadable. His tone, less so. 

"Are you okay?" he asks, all the airs of someone taking pre-measures.

"I'm perfect. He barely touched me. I only told Penelope because I-" Why did you tell Penelope? "I don't know. He surprised me." 

"I'm going to speak to the Chief of police," he says. "If you'll be alright?" 

"I'm fine, there's really no need."

"It's disrespectful," Emily says, fiercely protective over her friends no matter what. "We're here to help them and you've got officers acting like frat boys." 

Hotch says your name, pulling both of your attentions. "You're sure you're okay?" 

You smile at him softly. It's good of him to be so concerned, but unnecessary. "I'm fine, I promise." 

He takes your word for it and turns around. Emily lets out a low whistle. 

"Someone's in for it," she says. 

You don't know how right she is until you hear his raised voice. Chills run down your spine at his tone, so formidable, so sternly contained.

"Touch my agent again and you'll be working desk jockey for the rest of your career. Do I make myself clear?" 

You can't hear it, but you imagine the answer is, "Clear."

That night, laid like two twin commas invested toward one another, you ask, "'My agent'?" 

"You're one of mine, aren't you?" Hotch asks quietly.

"But am I yours?" you ask. 

He wraps his arm around your shoulders, the bulk and curve of his bicep firm against your neck, and smiles, lips resting at the crown of your head. 

"Do you want to be?" he asks. 

You curl into his touch and embrace, warmed by his body heat and the blanket he's taken care to pull up to your chest. He smells like toothpaste and eucalyptus body wash, his hair still damp from the shower. You breathe him in indulgently, and you close your eyes to sleep without responding to his question. He already knows the answer. 

[redclercs]

— or, the one where you go back to square one.

✤ requested as part of the lavender haze event!

✤ ex! mick schumacher x fem reader, prompts used: “say you want me, and i’m yours.” + "what pretty noises you're making for me… am i making you feel good?" + car sex in the rain

✤ warnings: smut, slight angst, mutual pining, mdni!! little plot, fingering (f receiving), grinding, little bit of dirty talk, car sex, idk how to write car sex bear with me lmao, protected sex, piv, hair pulling. while the actions portrayed in this writing are consensual, do not take this as an example and be smart about having sex!! 2k words (this was supposed to be a really short drabble)

visit the lavender library

It’s a make it or break it situation every time you see Mick.

Not your fault really, things with him never go the way you plan them in your head and there is no use in being angry anymore, life happens and that’s that. Your attempt at being something else with Mick had met its dead end sooner rather than later, and like a pair of fools you told each other you could go back to being friends, as if nothing had happened.

But honestly, how are you supposed to look at Mick as just your friend again? When all you can picture when you close your eyes are scratches that run down his back and the hickeys on your neck.

"What are you thinking?" he asks, pulling you out of your thoughts like he always does when he notices that faraway stare. "Everything okay?"

Unable to hold back your eyeroll, you nod. "Just great."

Mick frowns and then shrugs, he doesn't want in-depth explanations of your feelings lately. It's not that he doesn't want to deal with them, but he doesn't know how to without making a burden out of his own.

He flashbacks constantly to the night the decision of being 'just friends' was made between the two of you. It was for the best, or so he thought and the momentary relief he'd felt when you agreed didn't compare to the anguish that followed him since your friend let it slip that you were moving on with someone else.

It's possible he's taking you straight to someone else right this second, as you're on your way to a party hosted by one of your mutual friends. He shouldn't have agreed to this, and he's been praying for something—just about anything—to get in the way, so you can't make it to your destination.

You turn the volume of the radio up, you hate the song, but you don't think you can go on with the only sound being the rain pattering outside the car.

Mick's prayers are answered when the rain starts falling so heavy, it's impossible to see further than a few meters, even the headlights of the rest of the cars are hidden through the curtain of water falling from the sky.

"Should I pull over?" he questions, albeit stupidly. It's the best course of action right now and he is in no rush to continue the journey. "It's safer."

You shrug again, feigning disinterest although your body has tensed. "Fine by me."

Mick stops in a lay-by, turning the car engine off once he's made sure he's left enough space for another vehicle that wants to park behind you. "We'll just let the rain pass for a while."

"I know," you huff, he doesn't have to narrate everything you do. It's irritating and you're not a child that needs explanations every two seconds.

"Why are you mad at me?" he questions, turning the volume down before undoing his seatbelt. "Did I do something wrong?"

Where do you start?

"We would have missed the rain if you'd gotten to my place on time," you murmur. It's the first excuse you can think of to be angry at him, although it's not the real reason.

"I said I was sorry, y/n. I had things to do other than being your chauffeur."

"Well I didn't know being 'my chauffeur' bothered you so much, I could have asked Esteban to take me instead."

"You know it's not that," Mick groans, hitting his forehead against the steering softly.

"Then what is it?" you roll your eyes again, turning in the seat to look at him. "Please, do tell."

Mick stares back at you, and the choice is made within seconds in his brain, he's telling the truth. He cannot keep pretending he's not absolutely tormented by the idea that you've met someone else. "I don't want you to move on. I don't want you to go to whoever is waiting for you at that party."

You're caught off guard, having expected something entirely different to come out of his mouth. A strangled 'what?' leaves your lips before Mick is kissing you, praying once again, that you don't reject his advance. Even if it's what he deserves.

It's a desperate kiss, sloppy and wet and better than any you've ever had with him. Because you can feel how much he has wanted it, and you have wanted it too, so, so much. But what if this is all he wants? To know he still holds this power over you to have you physically, but with no strings attached.

You cannot handle the heartbreak of not being able to have him in the way you want to. Not again.

You push him off you, firm but gentle as his lips start traveling down your jaw and to your neck. "No, Mick. Not again."

"Why not?" he whispers against the pulse on your neck, sending shivers through your body. "y/n..."

“Say you want me, and I'm yours," you sigh, as his lips still hover over your skin. "But mean it, Mick. Mean it this time."

"I want you, y/n. I never stopped wanting you," his right hand is holding your jaw and the other is in your hair, combing it behind your ear. "And I'm not saying this just to fuck you. I mean it. I miss you."

You've known Mick for enough time to have figured out the little tells he has when he's lying. And you are so relieved to find that he's not, as he takes you in with those blue eyes you've missed so much. "I miss you too," you whisper, before looking for his lips again.

One moment you're still in your seat, legs twisted in an uncomfortable position and the next you're on Mick's lap, after he's moved the seat all the way back leaving you enough space not to be pressed against the steering wheel.

His hands are on your hips and your ass, lifting the skirt you're wearing before letting it fall back down. Your hands wrap around his neck before falling to his chest. The kisses you exchange are still messy, rushed and quick. You bite his lower lip before licking it soothingly and he groans, hands pressing harder on your ass.

You can feel his fingers moving to your inside thigh slowly, ghost touches that are there one moment and gone the next. You move your hips back and forth, slowly, starting to feel Mick's growing bulge. He grunts again, pulling you down on him to create more friction.

Mick's hand finally finds its way back to your throbbing core, you're starting to get desperate because it's just not enough. No matter how much you sway your hips in circles or you press down on him, it's not enough. "Please," you whine against the shell of his ear, "Please touch me."

His index and middle finger press against the wet cloth that are your panties and he smiles into your lips. "You're so wet for me,"

You can't find a coherent answer, and he doesn't let you anyway, as he moves your panties to one side to access your hole. His index goes inside you painfully slowly, and you know he's enjoying torturing you this way. Your fingers pull on the back of his head, tugging at his hair and you're not surprised when he moans, the hand that's not on your pussy clasps the back of your neck.

The rain is still going strong around you, and yet the only sounds both of you can focus on are the ones leaving you both. Gasps and moans, grunts and whines.

"What pretty noises you're making for me… am i making you feel good?" Mick pulls your head back by the neck for you to stop hiding your face against his neck as he pumps his fingers in and out of you. His thumb is drawing slow circles in your clit while he interchanges the motion of pumping you to scissoring them inside of you. "Do you want to cum?"

You nod desperately, grinding against his fingers while you still pull on his hair. "Please, Mick."

"Not with my fingers,"

You miss him immediately when he pulls his hand away, your hole clenching around nothing. But you hurry to undo his belt and zipper, you need him right now. Mick shifts in his seat, looking for the jacket in the backseat.

Your fingers wrap around his dick and you start pumping him slowly, your thumb running across his tip between movements has him moaning and bucking his hips.

"Seriously?" you pause, looking at the brand new pack of condoms he gets out of the inside pocket of his jacket.

"In my defense, Esteban asked me to buy them for him," his already reddened cheeks turn a shade or two darker, and he smiles at you. "He won't miss one."

You continue with your up and down movements while Mick opens the package and once he gets the condom out, he grabs your wrist to halt you.

Mick almost cums from the sight of you putting the condom on him, something he never thought he'd ever see again after fucking everything up.

You move your underwear to the side once again and Mick grabs your hips to lift you before letting you fall slowly on his cock. Both of you throw your heads back in pleasure and you stay like that for a moment, taking in the sensation of being as physically close as you can possibly be. Mick fills you up perfectly, and you feel so, so good around him.

Your hips rock back and forth slowly, while you maintain eye contact with him, blue eyes eating you up in awe. And he helps you lift your body and fall back on him at your own pace, he's at your mercy.

The hand that isn't steadying you goes back to your clit, caressing and pressing until he finds that right movement that makes you hold your breath before you release it in a pleasured cry. "Just like that, Mick, please."

He continues to draw circles on your clit while nipping on your neck, interrupted every now and then by his own moans of pleasure. Your pace quickens and Mick's neck strains, trying to hold his orgasm back, he wants you to reach yours first.

You smile at his distress, and move your hips faster guiding him up and down in frantic movements. And it's useless how much he tries to hold back, because when you bottom out, he groans, his release spilling inside the condom.

But you don't stop riding him, and he tries his best to keep his focus on the bundle of nerves between your legs, twisting his fingers faster and harder until you grip his shoulder and let your head fall into the crook of his neck, shaking with such pleasure you're seeing stars.

You stay like that for a few moments, while your breath goes back to normal and your body stops twitching with the remnants of your high. Mick goes soft still inside you and you support your weight on his shoulders to lift yourself off him.

The windows are foggy and the car smells of what you just did, the music is still playing in low volume and the rain refuses to stop.

Mick helps you return to the passenger seat, not without stealing another kiss from you, holding your jaw between his thumb and index.

Both of you fix your clothes in silence, one that falls heavy turning uncomfortable quickly.

"We can try again," Mick ends the silence after he's completely buckled his trousers and smoothed his shirt. "I want to try again with you y/n, I want to try until it works."

So you kiss him again, because you'll try and try, until it hurts or bleeds.

─── team principal radio: ❝to the anon who requested this, i accidentally deleted your ask because i am stupid but i hope you see this and enjoy it! let me know your thoughts y'all♡❞

✰ lavender library cardholders: @karmabyfernando

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Eeeeee! Congratulations! You deserve every single one! 🖤

Could I pretty please request:

Am I supposed to be scared now? In a Mafia AU. Vibes and item I'll leave up to your enormous, genius brain.

🖤🖤🖤

Thank you so much, Sam! 💖✨️ Hope you enjoy!

Worth the risk

Rated: E

Words: 992

Tags: Mafia AU; Hitman Eddie Munson; Dark Eddie Munson; Mob boss Richard Harrington; Secret relationship; intrigue; Referenced character death (RIP Tommy); Blood and violence; Knife play; Blood play; Groping; Dry humping

Notes: Previous part | Part 1

Nobody says anything as they make their way out of the Harrington villa, but by some unspoken agreement, they don't part ways yet. They linger in the driveway by the cars. 

Eddie knows better than to speak first. Instead, he lights a cigarette and lets the silence drag on, pretending to be brooding over the night’s events. He knows that somebody is bound to say something sooner rather than later. 

It’s Jeff who does, in the end. 

“Harrington’s losing it.” 

Gareth jumps and casts anxious glances all around himself, like he’s expecting to find the boss lurking somewhere in the shadows, while Frank shushes Jeff with a hectic gesture. 

“Shut up, are you insane?” 

Jeff shrugs petulantly, but he does lower his voice. “I'm just saying what everyone is thinking. That thing with Hagan? That was completely fucking bonkers, sending him to make that deal with the Carvers all alone. It’s almost like he wanted him to end up with a bullet through his head.” 

“Maybe he did,” Gareth says. “Rumor has it Hagan’s been making eyes at the son.” 

Eddie nods along solemnly with the rest of them. 

“All I’m saying is, it’s bad news,” Jeff mumbles. “He believes he’s invincible, that he can get away with anything. It’s dangerous for a man in his position to think like that.” 

“Then maybe he shouldn’t be.” Eddie lets the words linger, waiting until every single face is turned to him. “Be in that position, I mean.” 

Frank scoffs. “Yeah, right. Who’d even wanna do it instead? Junior seems much more interested in lounging by the pool and taking it up the-” 

“Nah,” Eddie is quick to deflect. “We’d need someone capable. Somebody younger, who knows how things work on the street.” 

“Someone like you?” 

“I wouldn’t know about that, Gare,” Eddie lies. “Just putting in my two cents on the matter.” 

Behind the garden wall, a light flickers alive, then dies again, quick as a heartbeat. Eddie grinds his cigarette under the heel of his boot. 

“Shit, just remembered I forgot something. Don’t wait for me, guys.” 

He feels their gazes on his neck as he walks back towards the house and doesn't bother hiding his grin. 

*

The hydrangeas are long past their bloom, decaying flower petals rustling under his feet. He doesn't lament their death, not when he knows that the seeds of something else are slowly taking root. 

The underwater lights of the pool bask the garden in an eerie glow, but he makes his way to the pool house unbothered. He has hardly ducked inside when a key clicks in the lock behind him. 

Eddie’s body moves on instinct and muscle memory. The key clatters off somewhere in the darkness,  and when the crimson veil lifts from his eyes, he has a warm body pressed against the wall, the edge of his knife licking at a shivering throat. A throat covered in the fading marks of his own teeth. 

“Damn, Stevie,” he hisses, retracting the blade and sliding it back into its holster. It leaves the faintest of cuts, tiny droplets of blood gathering against tan skin like dark beads. “Are you out of your mind? You can't just sneak up on people like that.” 

Steve scowls at him, face full of haughty disdain. He's beautiful in the glow of the pool seeping in from outside. He's always beautiful, of course, but something about the pale blue light rippling off his skin makes him look ethereal and downright unreal. Like an ancient deity, like a marble statue come alive.

“Excuse me?” he whispers, wriggling in Eddie’s hold. “What was I supposed to do? Nobody tells me shit, and then I overhear my dad talking on the phone about how one of his guys was killed. I just wanted-” 

“Aw,” Eddie coos. He leans into Steve’s space, scraping a toothy grin against the hollow of that pretty throat. His lips come away tasting like copper, leaving a bloody trail on Steve's skin. “Are you worried about me, honey? Why, I'm honored.” 

Steve pushes his head away with one palm against his cheek, but makes no further attempt at twisting out of his grip. 

“This isn't a fucking joke, Eddie. If my dad finds out about this, you'll be next in line for a bullet through the- Will you stop this?” 

Eddie lets Steve's thumb slide out of his mouth with an obscene, wet sound, nipping at the tender skin at its base as he goes. 

“Am I supposed to be scared now?” he drawls. “I'm not an idiot, I can look after myself.” 

“I know you can,” Steve confesses, tracing Eddie’s cheekbone with his thumb. It's still wet with his own spit, and the touch leaves a thin trail of moisture, cool in the stuffy air of the pool house. “But sometimes, I don't think you understand how dangerous this is.” 

“Believe me, darling, I’m well aware of the danger.” Eddie trails a hand over Steve’s throat, down his chest. The motion makes a drop of blood run from his neck into the collar of his shirt. He watches how it blooms on the white fabric, pretty like a flower, as he slips his hand between Steve's legs. “Good thing we both like it a little, dangerous, right?”

He gives the bulge in Steve’s pants a firm squeeze, and as always, the boy responds like the beautiful, needy little dream that he is. He rolls his hips, grinding himself into the touch, and wraps his arms around Eddie’s neck to slot their bodies closer together. Eddie bites down on that perfect, pink bottom lip and laughs against it when Steve moans. 

“Woah, honey! What happened to being careful?”

“What's life without a little risk?” Steve smiles, looking at him from under his long lashes. “And besides, you made me drop the key, so one of us will end up on his knees anyhow.” 

Eddie finds he can't argue with that.

More celebration ficlets

[igglemouse]

Monday feels like the perfect day to make pancakes, banana pancakes, to be more specific! Then again, isn't every day perfect for pancakes? There's something about them, maybe it's the scent of them that fills the kitchen with a warmth only associated with morning, maybe its how soft they are and how, coupled with syrup, they just melt and fit perfectly on your tongue and aaaahhh...This new house with its spacious kitchen has brought a spark back into my cooking!

As usual, Pascal makes it over to the table for breakfast, a tradition at this point, but today there is something different. It's his clothing, he's all dressed up, buttoned up, crisp pants, no sweat. Did he miss his morning workout? Is he sick? Injured? I won't press, maybe he's finally realized he pushes himself too hard, no, I have something else on my mind.

"I was thinking about our last convo," I start hesitantly, ignoring the temptation of my pancakes for a moment. "It might be a sooner rather than later kind of thing." I'm surprised to say it because the thought of having another baby feels overwhelming. I mean, my Watcher, it's a lot to go though. Does it get better the second time? Am I really ready to submit my body through that again?

"Oh, Frida," he says just before taking another bite of his pancake. "I see that look in your eyes," he teases.

"What?!"

"That look!" he teases again, a grin growing on his face. "All you have to do is ask!" Oh, that's what he means. I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks already.

"Pascal, I'm serious!" I shoot back because I am! This is a serious subject! "I just mean...if Flora is to have a little brother or sister, shouldn't they be close in age?" That's better for them, right? Allows them to bond a little better, I would think but I think by now Pascal is thinking more about the practice of making babies than the end result of it.

"Mmmhmm, they should..." See?

"Look! Ugh, nevermind!" I huff, giving up and waving away the now corrupted conversation we were having. "Do you even like your pancakes? You've barely touched them," I add, trying my best to steer it away from him and his morning wood.

"Oh, yeah," ugh, that grin is back on his face, I can't help but giggle. "No condoms moving forward then, right?"

"Pascal!" I blurt out with my fork clanking against the plate.

Alright alright, I wouldn't admit it at the table but I'll admit it to you now. I'd like another. Maybe just one more! My little Flora can't be an only child, she seems to enjoy attention a little too much but isn't that just all babies? They need so much love! Still, two feels right.

But for now, the rain is going to keep me inside which gives me a perfect chance at just sitting down and working on my socials. This is what I do now. Promote my social media, push my videos, and just try to grow my audience little by little. My first video does alright, nothing amazing or viral but a solid debut. It gives me enough hope to continue and to maybe think that there might be a future here for me with this. At least I won't have to worry about some old man trying to ruin my business.

And yes, I do spend some time working out because, I can't help but worry about my weight. I know I shouldn't, it's completely normal to add weight after creating a complete human being, but the thoughts creep into my head anyway. I just worry about Pascal out there playing a road game in some faraway city and at some night club before a pair of boobs gets put into his face and...yeah, let's end that thought right there. I want to look my best, not just for him, but for me too!

But maybe I've pushed myself too hard today because now I've broken out in a rash! Red little splotches all over my arms and legs and just everywhere! Not a good look. I don't imagine this is attractive but thankfully there's medicine for it.

By the way, I called Anthony. Or at least I tried. I'm not sure why but I felt like he should at least know. He'll never meet her, that I'm sure of, but I don't know, I feel like my grandparents, my mama, you know, people I've never known, would tell me that I should. It's fair for him to know. Just to know. It feels like if I don't tell him it'll be something I'll feel slightly guilty about for the rest of my life. If what Candela said is true, he saved my life, whether he meant to or not, so he should know that I'm doing well.

But the joke was on me, he wasn't available. A guard or someone, don't know, answers instead and asked if I wanted to pass along a message and in that moment I froze. I told him never mind and he told me times in which Anthony had phone privileges if I wanted to call back. I don't think I will now. The moment has passed. Maybe its just fate that he'll know.

Back to happier things, like making dinner for my new familia or at least trying to. Pascal made it a little harder because he walks right into my kitchen in nothing but his swim trunks which is incredibly distracting. I pause mid chop just to stare, wondering what he was up to and then figuring this is probably the continuation of our conversation from this morning. He's trying to tempt me! I can't help but chuckle because its both cute and endearing.

"Mi querido, what are you wearing?" I challenge, rising an eyebrow as he turns to face me which only makes it worse because I've always been a fan of his body and suddenly I'm reminded why I did fall for him. His goofy charm and his smile!

"My swimwear!" he announces with pride. "We do have a little pool and I wanted to check it out!"

"Must you walk around in it?"

"I think you should walk around in yours a little more!" He fires back with the cheesiest wink I've ever seen in my life, it brings a reluctant smile to my own face.

"I-I don't know! I'm still a little hefty, I might not even fit my old stuff. Maybe a one piece or something like-"

"I'd love you all in one piece!"

Ah well...well, we will eat dinner first and maybe we'll see about that later.

But unfortunately, after our dinner, little Flora had her own demands which naturally comes before my own desires. So, instead of spending some intimate time with Pascal I was called to feed her and change her diaper and just play with her and let her know that she is loved! Just the things a mama must do!

But while Frida was attending to the needs of little Florencia, Pascal was attending to his. Every day his Social Bunny account would light up with interest, messages from a variety of different women, all thirsty for his attention. They knew he wasn't single and knew he was a father, but for some, that made him all the more enticing.

Usually, Pascal ignored them, thinking of them more as annoyances and distractions, but one in particular stood out to him. Sofia Prats, a model and aspiring actress located in Del Sol Valley. She was a striking beauty with dark hair that seemed to contrast perfectly with pearlescent skin and a full smile that sat perfectly before observant eyes. She carried herself with a bold kind of confidence, a woman who was used to getting her way. She had sent him a few messages, wondering if they could meet. Pascal didn't answer, not yet at least, but he did spend some time scrolling through her Simstagram feed and enjoying her pictures...

Frida Varela - Next Episode 9.3

[moronkombat]

johnny cage nsfw alphabet? love your work <3

god i love johnny. i need to write more of him

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

After sex, Johnny is feeling on top of the world. After all, he was just on top of you and you are basically his world. He likes to lounge against the headrest of the bed wit his arms behind his head and you cuddling against chest. He'll whistle and tell you how great that was and how he can't wait for the next time which may come sooner than later

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Johnny is extremely confident in his physique and appearance. He thinks all of him is perfect but if you really pressed him for an answer he would say his nose. When much younger, he was often teased about it but has come to accept it as his most attractive feature and is really proud of its shape. He'll never have work done on it

There's a lot Johnny loves about his partner but its your waist that he adores the most. He loves locking his arms around it and squeezing you. He gets a real kick out of

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

On your body. To see you so painted in his essence really gets him going. His favorite places to finish on you had got to be your face, tongue and chest. He wishes the moment of you so soaked in him can last forever. Good thing he has a camera nearby

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Wants to film a sextape with his partner and "leak" it online. It's exhilarating to think about him fucking you in front of thousands of viewers. How jealous they will be watching him ravaging you. You're all his and no one else's. All those viewers can look but not touch

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

In terms of sex, Johnny is exceptionally experienced. He was something of a tramp during college and he's learned the arts of pleasure through and through. He does not hide that fact and is very boastful that he is a great lay. Is Johnny perhaps a bit over confident? Well maybe but he definitely makes every bedroom experience a performance to die for

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Johnny's favorite position is with your head pressed into the pillows and your ass flush against his hips. He believes he can feel himself deeper that way. Plus, Johnny loves watching your ass bounce and jiggle when he slaps it. He also loves when you ride him. Johnny smirks the entire time and just enjoys the show you give him. Sometimes he'll have one hand on your hip lazily while the other rests behind his head. He quite likes watching you come undone when fucking yourself down on him

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Extremely humorous and playful. Sometimes you can't get him to shut up with the taunts and movie quotes. Johnny especially loves bringing movie references in the bedroom. One would think that may be an odd place but Johnny's execution with them is impeccable

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Well groomed but not entirely shaven. He keeps a tasteful amount of grace between his legs and a rather taunting path that begins just under his naval. He keeps that there very purposefully so he can tell his partner to follow his treasure map

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

As much as Johnny can be playful he can be romantic. He knows how to wine and dine his partner and can go bit over the top with it as well. He's definitely the type to fill the room with lavish flowers and rose petals and book out a private villa for his partner. Though his playfulness never truly leaves, he makes it a bit more romantic. Johnny is very adaptable to the situations he finds himself in and to what his partner wants

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He is a deviant when it comes to masturbation. He always does it to a photo or video of you. Talks extreme filth while he pleasures himself. He says how hard he's going to fuck you or pretends you're giving him head. He can be very nasty with those words of his when stroking himself to climax.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Hair pulling- Is turned on when his partner pulls his hair or laces their fingers within those dirty blond locks. He will groan and bite his lip before telling his partner how he'll have to punish them for being so naughty

Video recording- Johnny records almost every time the two of you have sex. There's either a camera set up or he's using his phone. Loves watching his cock enter you again and again through the lens of a camera. He'll watch them back with you or will have one playing while he fucks you. He just can't help himself. Johnny loves the camera whether that is behind it or in front of it

Degradation- He is downright horrid with how he can talk to his partner during sex. He'll tell you just how good you feel and call you a little whore or slut for his big and heavy cock. Gets off on talking dirty to you like nothing else

Daddy kink- This one is discovered accidentally. It was during a particularly rough love making session when he was just driving himself into you that he spontaneously commanded you to call him "daddy" and when you did, Johhny just about orgasmed right there. Now he'll use the term in and out of sex much to your embarrassment

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Somewhere in a large space, like his bedroom or living room. He enjoys using the space and fucking you in various positions all over the room. Bonus points if there is a television or a place to put on music. He'll either have one of your filmed escapades on or some loud and exciting music

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Just about everything regarding his partner turns Johnny on. He is what some people call a horndog. He sees you dressed to the nines? Yeah he wants to tear off your clothes. Your in something loose and baggy? Johnny wants to sneak under those clothes with you. He finds his partner incredibly attractive and can't keep his hands off of him

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Johnny is turned off indifference and disregarding him and his beliefs. Even though his ego is rather high, he appreciates when his partner supports him and believes in him. A partner that doubts him has him feeling uncomfortable

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Definitely a receiver rather than a giver. If it were up to him, you'd be between his legs 24/7. He loves watching you choke and gag on his length while giving you backhanded playful praise

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Johnny can enjoy both without issue but prefers the intense pleasure of rough and fast sex. He just can't hold himself back when it comes to you. He wants to lay himself into you again and again and loves changing positions throughout it all

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Loves them and will be the one to initiate them. His hands will start to roam your body while his lips find your neck. His whispers find you ear and he says could you two could sneak away for a little bit and have some good fun together. Johnny almost always convinces you

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Johnny is very open to trying new things and experimenting as long as he and partner are both comfortable with it. Has a "bad" habit of seeing a trend and wanting to try it out with his partner.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Many rounds can be anticipated when tangoing in the bedroom with someone like Johnny. He's hardly satisfied with finishing once and always wants to keep going and pushing the limits of his stamina. His partner is in for a long and wild ride

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Johnny owns an arsenal of toys and readily uses them on his partner and even on himself. It wouldn't a fun experience if he and his partner kept things too vanilla

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Extremely unfair and teasing. Johnny can't help but tease his partner and edge them repeatedly. He loves to hear them whimper and beg for him, it fuels his confidence and ego. Loves to boast about how only he can make you cum because you're his personal slut

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Loud. He's panting, groaning, moaning and touching pure filth throughout the encounter. If Johnny is quiet then something is wrong or bothering him

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Has definitely thought about having you walk around in public with a vibrator nestled inside you while he controls just how intense it is. Johnny hasn't suggested this to you yet but he his mind runs wild with the possibilities

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Johnny is fit and athletic. He is well defined in muscle tone but not carved from marble nor is his overly large. His waist his thin giving him a very delectable upside down triangle figure that he is rather proud of. His legs are the most powerful aspect about him with well toned thighs and calves. If we're talking a big more intimate, Johnny is girthy and thick. His length is just above average and it tends to curve slightly upwards with minimal visible veins

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Significantly high sex drive. If it were up to him, he'd be having sex with you all day but life doesn't allow that so he will settle for at least once day. If he goes more than a couple days he gets whiney and needy

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Johnny likes to close to his partner after sex but he doesn't fall asleep. He is actually energized despite going multiple rounds and even suggests continuing. His partner will need to tell him they need rest and he'll settle for some good cuddling

[threepatchpodcast]

Hello Threepatch! Long time listener here with a question about 221b con 2025: Have the dates been announced yet? I only recently found out it'll be the last one, and seeing as I've never gone before I would love to go, but costs and travelling from the opposite end of the globe aside, my main obstacle might be the dates and if I can schedule around university.

Thanks! Can't wait to possibly see you there next year!

Hi there nonny! Caroline here answering, and thank you for the ask! @221bcon 2025 is indeed on the books and the hotel block is open -- the dates are April 13-15, 2025.

You can buy a membership and book your room at the con rate on the con's website at 221bcon.com. Membership costs do get a little more expensive as you get closer to con, so better jump on that sooner rather than later. (Unless, @221bcon, you have any plans for a membership sale between now and April?)

But the biggest way to defray costs would be get at least one roommate for your stay. For airfare, Atlanta is relatively cheap to fly to domestically (look into Southwest airlines, which don't always show up on all multi-search sites), but if you're traveling from abroad and flying directly into Atlanta, that might not be the case. Also, food might be pricey depending on your budget, so buddying up with anyone for things like grocery runs, splitting a door dash or delivery order, that kind of thing, can also potentially save you from doing $15-25 meals in the hotel restaurant. And if our TPP con suite is anything like previous years, we'll have some type of food at some point, so definitely come by and say hello, grab freebies and things, all that jazz. We'd love to see you!

2025's con was announced this year to be the last con in planning, but there's a possibility, as announced at the Last Bow panel, that it might not be if the stars truly align in terms of finances, energy, and attendance. There hasn't been any further updates, as far as I'm aware, beyond that, so don't quote me; there's basically nothing to quote. Plenty of us are operating on the assumption that it really is the last hurrah for this fantastic con, and lots of people are mourning that, planning to attend 2025's, and hoping it either continues or has something else the fandom can attend in its place. Either way, I hope you and others are able to make it and have the wonderful time that we do each year.

[star-writr]

Promise

Yay!! Another 10th Doc fic!! This one is a little longer than the last one luckily. Also school starts in four days for me and I'm terrified. Reader is gn. This will be up on my Ao3 in a sec. Enjoy!!

After yet another draining adventure, the TARDIS welcomed you and the Doctor with its warm lighting and buzzing noises. Closing the door behind him, the Time Lord huffed. "Well, that was a hell of a jog", he spoke, "even for me. Are you alright?"

You smiled and nodded. "Yeah. I think I'm going to take a nap. Do you mind?"

"Not at all," said the Doctor, making his way over to the console. "I'll be here if you need anything." You walked away, grateful to get a break.

The Doctor ran his fingers through his hair, already spiky and messy enough as it was, sighing. He fiddled with a couple buttons, trying to keep his hands – and thoughts – focused on the TARDIS rather than anything else. The spaceship seemed to find his troubled look quite funny, and her engines snickered.

"Laugh a little more, would you?", grunted the Time Lord. The machine didn't hesitate to do so.

The Doctor had been pining after his companion for a while, but had admitted these feelings to himself quite reluctantly. After all, he knew that you wouldn't be any different to his prior companions. He knew one day he wouldn't see you again; everyone left the TARDIS sooner or later, whether they wanted to or not. Even if you somehow reciprocated what he felt, the situation would've been just the same, and it would've been even worse when it ended. The Doctor was a time traveller, he couldn't focus only on the present; and thinking of the uncertainty of the future – which could've put you in danger in a hundred million different ways without him able to do anything – sent him off the rails like very few things could. He couldn't have you hurt because of his carelessness, feelings or no feelings. However, he still didn't know what to do. Maybe he should've told you the truth. But why bother? Again, it would've meant nothing. Destiny had the tendency to laugh in the Doctor's face, making his every move have the worst consequences possible; if you got involved by staying by his side, who knows what could've happened. There was also the possibility of you being uncomfortable once the Doctor confessed his feelings and leaving the TARDIS even sooner. So the Time Lord kept his mouth shut.

This went on for quite some time. Nevertheless, the Doctor couldn't keep carrying such a burden forever. And, against every last one of his intentions, he didn't.

It was rare to see the Doctor truly scared. It had been a long night, and an even longer adventure. Going deeper and deeper into the darkest of tunnels, holding onto his sleeve, the both of you running for your lives, you saw an expression that the Time Lord had never worn in front of you before then.

The enemy had taken his sonic, leaving the Doctor without his second most powerful weapon, and the first most powerful – his wits – didn't seem eager to respond at the moment. It was true that most times he worked well under pressure, but fear was a beast he didn't quite know how to make abide by his rules.

"Doctor, what do we do? We can't keep running forever," you reminded him, pulling onto his shirt. He stopped in his tracks and took one good look at you.

"Are you hurt?" he asked. You didn't answer. "We have to think of something else," you insisted, "or we'll be stuck here forever."

He said your name with his voice breaking. It was the first time you saw him that worried. "We can't do anything. We can't fight. We can only run", he stated.

You lowered your eyes. The truth was that you couldn't run anymore. As much as you didn't want to admit it, your feet were killing you and you had sprained your ankle.

"You're hurt", realized the Doctor. The sound of metal clanging coming from the tunnels behind you stripped you of all the hope you had left. The Doctor looked at you with wet eyes. "I don't have a plan", he said, "I'm sorry."

He couldn't give up so easily, you thought. The noise was getting closer. The pressure you felt crushed your lungs, leaving you almost breathless.

Even so, the Doctor wasn't the only one who worked well under pressure. You had a sudden idea, and all at once you felt like you could breathe again. A smile crept its way onto your lips. "Well, I do," you said.

The Doctor raised an eyebrow. "Really? What are you going to do?" he asked. His question remained unanswered, at least for the moment, as your lips crashed together with his. "Stay put", you ordered him, then going straight towards the noise of metal. The Doctor – quickly pulling himself together after the sudden kiss – tried to stop you, but it was futile. As soon as you disappeared from his sight the noises suddenly stopped. A few moments later, you came back with his sonic screwdriver in hand and a smirk plastered onto your face.

"Holograms," you explained, "holograms and recorded sound effects. They took your sonic because it would've messed with their systems."

The Doctor's mouth was agape as he grabbed the screwdriver, inspecting it and occasionally shifting his eyes onto your figure. "How can a hologram grab anything?", he asked.

"They were projected onto an endoskeleton", you replied. "Fool proof disguise."

The Time Lord smiled. "You're a genius."

"Save it for when we're out of here, pretty boy," you teased, grabbing him by the tie and leading the way. Needless to say, the Doctor didn't protest. He was too impressed to complain.

You made it to the TARDIS only hours later, exhausted as per usual. The Doctor was still lingering on the kiss. He couldn't tell whether your sudden realization had made you so excited as to kiss him, or if it had been anything else. He was still unwilling to talk about his own feelings, but now that you had made what seemed like a first move, he decided to confront you about it.

He plopped next to you on the seat near the console. His palms were sweaty against the white leather and his eyes darted between the ceiling, you, and the pavement.

"What is it?" you asked, preceding him. The Time Lord suddenly found his shoelaces to be very interesting, and didn't bear to look at you.

"Just thinking", he whispered.

"About?"

"About the kiss."

You tilted your head. The Doctor was still looking down. A sigh escaped your lips. "Okay, listen."

"I am listening."

"Look at me, Doctor."

He didn't turn his head, and just peeked at you from the corner of his eyes. You later found his flusteredness to be quite adorable. For the moment, however, you wondered if the kiss had made him uncomfortable. In any case, it was best to tell him your reasons. All of them. No holding back. You wouldn't have hid anymore.

"I meant that kiss," you admitted. "I'm sorry if you weren't okay with it."

The Doctor went back to staring at his shoes. "I was okay with it." Your eyes lit up. "Frankly," he added, "it would be simpler if I wasn't. But I'm actually glad you did it first."

"Are you?" you questioned him. "You don't look so... happy."

"I know." The Time Lord bit his lip mindlessly.

"Then what's wrong?"

He was finally able to look at you. You deserved the whole truth, he thought.

"I've told you. My companions always end up leaving. Most of the time it's not planned. They end up endangered and the only solution, if there is one, is leaving me behind. If I get too attached I can never get over it."

You took his hand in yours. "Have you considered, even for a second, that it doesn't always have to end that way?"

"But it does."

"I'm still here, though."

The Doctor's eyes darted across the room. As much as he wanted to believe everything would've ended up being okay, he couldn't bring himself to. Each time he did, everything slipped away from his grasp leaving him alone once again.

"Doctor," you pleaded, "if you won't believe it can end differently, then at least let me promise you it will. At least believe in me."

The Time Lord pondered over your words for a couple moments. Then, he cupped your cheek with his free hand and kissed you. It was a desperate kiss, and it made the both of you scoot closer to the other, wrapping your arms around each other for support and clutching at the cloth on your backs. It didn't last for more than thirty seconds, and left you lingering for more.

"Promise me", he begged, "promise me."

"I promise", you whispered.

"Again. Say it again."

"I promise", you repeated.

His lips brushed onto yours. "Again." You smiled reassuringly, your voice a whisper.

"I promise." You kissed him again.

The night had just started.

[hyperfixatedcatlover]

The Beauty's Rebirth Prologue

So, this is my first post! This isn't going to be an Aeon x Reader, though I may sprinkle in some scenes of that in the future. I have been cooking this idea since I started playing HSR and I wanted to try writing it out. It will be a yandere type thing so here we go.

TW: Body horror/mod, obsessive behavior, non-con/dub-con touching, implied child abuse, fem!reader, aeons being meanies. Don't like? Don't read. I do not condone or support these behaviors IRL and enjoy!

Prologue (You are here) - Chapter 1 - Chapter 2

"I have a story you might like."

You peek over the schedule you're reading, careful not to move your head as you make eye contact with the woman behind you in the mirror curiously. She seems to notice this as she smiles kindly.

"It was a story all of us were told on my planet growing up. It's about the Aeon Idrila the Beauty. THEY favored my home planet before THEY disappeared"

"Then your planet must be popular with that one group, the Knights of Beauty. Right?"

She makes a face, as if she's tasted or smelled something extremely foul.

"Those Knights hardly visit our planet. When they do, we never tell them anything, and make sure they leave town sooner rather than later."

"Oh. Why? Does it have something to do with the story?"

"It does, would you like to hear it?"

"Well, if you can't tell the Knights, why can you tell me?"

"It's much more interesting than looking at your schedule."

You smile at that faintly. 'Suppose she's right,' you think to yourself.

"I'm all ears."

"Once upon a time, the Aeon of Beauty, Idrila walked the stars. It was said that THEIR beauty outshined all, but I'm sure you know that. What most people don't know about, however, is how THEY disappeared. You see, the other Aeons adored THEIR beauty, just as humans who walked THEIR path did, but the Aeons were capable of things that a human could never do. Yaoshi the Abundance wanted THEIR beauty to live forever in THEIR domain of constant thriving.

It's dark. You're walking and walking, the greenery never stops. It's overflowing

It's growing faster than you can run.

It's trapping you

You can't move.

Four arms cradle your waist while another pair stroke your cheek and comb through your hair as you become a decoration in the greenhouse.

"The Hunt wanted THEM to be THEIR prize for hunting the Abundance."

The plants feel like they've entered your bloodstream.

Your veins have thorns and the flowers have long since covered your eyes.

There's a loud sound of shattering glass and thundering hooves

A cold metal arm grabs you and pulls you up by the waist

You don't realize you're screaming in pain until your mouth is covered

Your veins are shredded

You can feel air forcing itself into your divine lungs

Your eyes are gouged out from the flowers being torn

You are brokenly whimpering on the steed of the being that 'saved' you

"The Elation loved messing with Idrila to see THEM cry."

The voices surround you

Phantom touches come from every angle

You see things that aren't there

You don't know what's real and whats not

Did the extensive healing get to you?

A being of many masks cackles as you cower in a corner

"The Destruction wanted anything that could attempt to challenge THEIR beauty to be destroyed"

You stare into the golden eyes

The fragmented arms held out as if welcoming you to shower in the golden blood

They approach

You grow ill

As the golden threatens to drown you, you run

"When THEY finally ran, THEY realized the true horror of the stars and the greed of those who run them. To be free, THEY called upon THEIR only friend, The Harmony to give THEM a chance at another life…"

Surrounded by darkness you call upon the last of your power and draw out your core

With a steady hand, the steadiest it has been for a long time, you shatter it

Pieces flow into objects around the world

Hairbrushes, mirrors, sewing needles

The one main piece of you looses its golden shine as it floats to the only friend you've ever known, watching with sad eyes

THEY cradle your soul as you fade into nothingness, leaving behind one last wish

'Be free, little beauty.'

"And now, THEY are waiting for THEIR reincarnation, to get THEIR chance at living without fear of… oh my dear are you alright? You look terribly pale!"

You shiver as you blink rapidly.

"I- I'm fine. Just, nerves, and thirst."

The kind hairdresser fetches a bottle of water from the fridge in the dressing room with a straw and watches you drink with steady and slow sips.  She then begins to add the final touchups on your hair. As you cradle the water, you try to explain what those, moments in your head were. 'Were they memories? They felt like dreams more than anything. Maybe I have been working too hard.'  As you think, she continues.

"And that is why we never tell the Knights of Beauty this. They want to bring THEM back, while we want to leave THEM alone. THEY suffered from THEIR beauty being pursued."

"Huh. Sounds familiar." The memories of you childhood house that never felt like a home, the pain, the torture, the self-hatred, memories you wished would stop coming back.

"Done!"

You look up at your reflection, the intricately styled hairdo frames your face perfectly and matches the violet dress that flows behind you like a waterfall perfectly. Before you get a chance to breathe, your manager opens the door.

"You look great but you've gotta get out there! You're gonna be live in T-minus 3 minutes girl!"

You try to say you need a moment but your tongue gets stuck in your mouth as she drags you down the set and drops you off. She gives you a thumbs up as she runs off and the stage hand next to you waits to give you your cue.

"And now everyone, the moment you've all been waiting for!"

A rich charismatic voice says over the speakers in the sound stage. You see a small video of him standing in front of his desk as he addresses the live audience.

"From rags to riches, this girl has climbed the ranks of the intergalactic fame pyramid faster than  anyone. With her looks singlehandedly saving the modeling agency she first signed for, it's no wonder that the press has deemed her the 'Modern-Age Idrila The Beauty!' So put your hands together for the one and only [Y/N]!"

You put on your best smile as you walk out, ignoring the buzzing in your mind that something bad will happen soon. You let the host escort you like one would royalty to the couch as the spotlights blind you. You smile with the pearly whites that everyone adores, knowing that your value to the world is purely from your appearance. That your beauty everyone praises you for is nothing more than a curse.

Live free, Little Beauty.

[tinynerdz360]

Future Ghost Chapter 10

Kirk paced back and forth in his office, hands clasped behind his back, brow furrowed in deep thought. The dilemma of what to do with young Danny Fenton weighed heavily on his mind. At just 15 years old, the ghost-powered hybrid from another time had no business being an ensign on the Enterprise without proper academy training. And yet, here he was.

Kirk tapped the comm button. "Spock, McCoy, meet me in my office.”

Moments later, the door slid open with its familiar hiss, admitting the Vulcan science officer and the chief medical officer into the room.

"You wanted to see us, Captain?" Spock inquired, one eyebrow raised.

"It's about our resident time traveler, Ensign Fenton. We need to decide what to do with him. He's far too young to be serving on a starship."

McCoy crossed his arms. "Dammit Jim, we can't just send the kid packing! He's got nowhere else to go in this time period. And with those ghost powers of his, who knows what kind of trouble he could get into. Someone unsavory could take advantage of his abilities, make him disappear..."

"The doctor raises a fair point," Spock interjected. "Furthermore, as a hybrid from an undocumented species, Ensign Fenton presents a unique challenge. There is no precedent for this situation."

Kirk sighed, sinking into his chair. "I know, I know. But bypassing the academy entirely sets a dangerous precedent too. What kind of message does that send?"

"Look, we've made exceptions before in extenuating circumstances," McCoy argued. "And the kid's got a good head on his shoulders. He hasn't used his powers for any ill will since coming on board. Isolating him planetside could be disastrous."

Kirk nodded, acknowledging the gravity of McCoy's words. "But we can't just ignore the fact that he hacked his way onto the Enterprise."

"Which demonstrates considerable skill," Spock conceded, though his tone remained neutral.

Kirk drummed his fingers on the desk, considering both sides. He had to report this unorthodox situation to the admirals eventually. But perhaps he could delay that communique a bit longer, at least until he witnessed a demonstration of Danny's abilities for himself.

"Alright, we'll hold off on any final decisions for now," Kirk declared. "But I want to see what Ensign Fenton can really do, sooner rather than later. In the meantime, I’ve had Chekov investigate Danny’s hometown,” Kirk said, tapping his communicator. "Kirk to Chekov. Report to my office immediately."

As they waited for the young navigator to arrive, Kirk's mind drifted to Danny. The captain couldn't help but feel a mix of admiration and concern for the boy who had managed to infiltrate Starfleet at such a young age. He only hoped his decision, whatever it may be, would be the right one.

The door chimed, and Chekov entered, his youthful face etched with a mix of excitement and nervousness.

"Ah, Ensign Chekov," Kirk greeted. "What have you discovered about Amity Park?"

Chekov straightened his accent thickening with enthusiasm. "It vas very strange Keptin. At first, zere vas no record of zis Amity Park anywhere. But ven I dug into Earth's history from ze late 20th and early 21st centuries, a few references to ze town popped up. Zen...nothing. It's as if it disappeared after Vorld Var III and ze Eugenics Vars."

Kirk frowned. "Disappeared? What do you mean?"

"Vell sir, I asked a friend back on Earth to inwestigate ze town's last known location in Illinois. She reported some very odd things. She had great difficulty finding ze location, sir. She kept missing ze correct road, as if something vas... interfering vith her navigation." Chekov paused, his voice dropping slightly. "Ven she scanned ze area, she detected an unusual energy signature. As she got closer, she felt an overwhelming urge to turn back, like something vas trying to keep her away."

Spock's eyebrow arched higher. "Fascinating. An external force attempting to repel visitors?"

Chekov nodded vigorously. "Da, Mr. Spock. But that's not ze strangest part. Ven my friend finally reached ze coordinates vere Amity Park should have been, she found..."

"Found what, Ensign?" Kirk prompted, leaning forward.

Chekov swallowed hard. "A giant crater, sir. As if ze entire city had been... Ze whole town, vanished without a trace."

A heavy silence fell over the room as the implications of Chekov's report sank in.

Dr. McCoy's brow furrowed deeply. "And what about evidence of weapons? Surely, there'd be some sign of what caused such destruction."

Chekov's brow furrowed as he continued his report. "My friend found ze energy signature around ze crater fascinating. She plans to study it further. But vat really intrigued her vas ze persistent sense of needing to leave and ignore the area altogether. It was as if something was compelling her to forget about it and move on. But zere vas no signs of nuclear fallout, photon bombardment, or anything to suggest conventional or even advanced weaponry vas used. It's almost as if..." He paused, searching for the right words. "As if Amity Park vas cleanly scooped right out of ze earth itself."

Spock arched an eyebrow.

McCoy's face paled, a knot of dread forming in his stomach. "Good God, Jim. The implications of this... If the Ensign's entire hometown was wiped off the map, if everyone he ever knew........"

Kirk nodded gravely, his eyes distant as he processed the disturbing news. Spock, ever the voice of logic, interjected.

"Captain, I must advise caution in revealing this information to Ensign Fenton, at least until we have a clearer understanding of the full extent of his abilities and emotional control. Given his youth and the trauma of temporal displacement, learning of this tragedy could provoke an extremely volatile reaction."

"Dammit, Spock, we can't just hide this from the kid!" McCoy argued, his blue eyes flashing. "He has a right to know!"

Kirk held up a hand. "Bones, I understand your concerns. But I'm inclined to agree with Spock on this one." He sighed heavily. "The idea of a being with Fenton's potential power losing control in a fit of grief and rage... It could endanger the entire ship.”

The Doctor grumbled under his breath but consented to the captain’s judgment. 

"There's a difference between coming to terms with your loved ones passing naturally in your absence versus learning your entire world was horrifically snuffed out. And if the Ensign did return to his own time armed with that knowledge..." Kirk shook his head. "The damage to the timeline could be catastrophic. Amity Park clearly has a role to play in history. But for now, we keep this information between us."

***

Danny's laughter echoed through the mess hall as he sat with Tina and Kas, relishing his brief respite from sickbay. The normalcy of it all - just hanging out with friends - felt like a lifeline in the chaos of his situation.

"I should probably head back," Danny said reluctantly, pushing away from the table. "McCoy's gonna wonder where I am."

Tina grinned. "Don't want to make the good doctor grumpy, do we?"

Danny chuckled, waving goodbye as he headed for the exit. The corridor seemed longer than usual, his footsteps echoing in the quiet. Suddenly, a firm hand gripped his shoulder, spinning him around.

"Well, well. If it isn't the little imposter," Lieutenant Weston sneered, looming over Danny.

Danny's heart raced. "I-I'm just heading back to sickbay, sir."

"You shouldn't even be here," Weston spat. "You should be locked up in the brig. How dare you wear that uniform?"

Danny felt himself shrinking back, his throat tight. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"Lieutenant Weston!" Captain Kirk's voice cut through the tension like a phaser blast as he walked down the hallway in passing. "What exactly is going on here?"

Weston straightened. "Sir, I was just-"

"Harassing a minor?” Kirk’s eyes narrowed. “Report to my ready room at 0800 tomorrow. You’re assigned to sensitivity training.”

As Weston skulked away, Danny let out a shaky breath. “Thanks, Captain.”

Kirk’s expression softened. “Come on, let’s get you back to sickbay.”

As they walked, Danny’s mind whirled with anxiety.

“Danny,” Kirk said gently, “I understand Weston is your roommate?”

Danny nodded, his stomach churning.

“We’ll arrange a room change immediately,” Kirk assured him. “You should feel safe here.”

A spark of hope ignited in Danny’s chest. “Does... does that mean I can stay?”

Kirk’s smile was enigmatic. “We were planning to change your quarters anyway. Weston’s behavior just expedited things.” He paused. “I haven’t made a final decision yet, but we do want you to feel secure here.”

Danny nodded eagerly. “I’ve finished rewriting my reports, sir. I’m almost done with the list of abilities, too.”

Kirk’s eyes crinkled with amusement. “Good work, Ensign. You’re certainly eager to prove yourself.”

As they neared sickbay, Danny couldn’t help but ask, “Sir? Do you... do you think I have a chance of staying?”

Kirk’s expression grew thoughtful. “Danny, I won’t lie to you. Your situation is complicated. But I see potential in you.” He seemed to be wrestling with some internal debate before adding, “You remind me of someone I once knew. He had incredible abilities too, but... well, let’s just say I’m glad to see how well you’re controlling yourself, even when provoked.”

Danny’s brow furrowed. “Sir?”

Kirk shook his head. “Never mind. Get some rest, Ensign. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

As Danny entered sickbay, his mind raced with questions. *Who was this person Kirk had known? *

**

In sickbay, Scotty bustled in holding the strange stone device, his eyes alight with determination. "I've got an idea, lad," he announced, thrusting the object into Danny's hands. "Hold this and press your thumb to the smooth bit there."

Danny blinked down at the stone, confusion etched on his face. "Okay, but why?"

"Just trust me," Scotty urged. "Now, I want you to focus and push a wee bit of your ghostly energy into it."

Dr. McCoy watched the exchange with a mixture of curiosity and concern. "Scotty, what in blazes are you up to?"

Ignoring the doctor's question, Scotty nodded encouragingly at Danny. "Go on, give it a try."

Danny shrugged and pressed his thumb to the stone's smooth surface, concentrating. A faint green glow emanated from his finger, and suddenly, the device beeped and lit up. A holographic screen popped into existence, floating in the air above the stone.

"HAHAHAH, I knew it!” Scotty exclaimed, his face lit with triumph.

McCoy leaned in. "About time."

As McCoy reached out to tap the hologram, trying to figure out what the strange symbols meant.

“I think those are ghost symbols…...maybe there’s an English setting….or something.” Danny mumbled.

"Fascinating," McCoy muttered. "Danny, try pressing that icon there."

Danny obliged, his finger hovering over a glowing symbol. As he touched it, a dial tone echoed through sickbay.

"What in the blazes—" McCoy started, but his words were cut short as a miniature holographic figure materialized atop the stone.

Danny's jaw dropped. "Dr. Bonechiller?!"

The tiny yeti ghost blinked, looking surprised to see Danny. "Great One? My, you look so young! Oh... I see. It's *that* time."

McCoy's eyebrows shot up, his gaze darting between Danny and the hologram. "Well, I'll be. I didn't realize ghosts came in such... diverse forms."

Dr. Bonechiller turned, noticing McCoy for the first time. "Ah, greetings! I am Dr. Bonechiller, young Daniel's primary physician. And you are?"

"Dr. Leonard McCoy, Chief Medical Officer of the USS Enterprise," McCoy replied, his tone professional despite his apparent fascination. "Dr. Bonechiller, if you wouldn't mind waiting, I'd like to invite my commanding officer to join us."

The yeti nodded. "Of course, Doctor. I will await your return."

As McCoy hurried from the room to summon Kirk. “Danny, don't hang up!"

Danny stared at the green glowing hologram of his yeti doctor. "So... uh, nice to see you again, Dr. Bonechiller. You're probably wondering why I'm calling, huh?"

Dr. Bonechiller turned his attention back to Danny, his expression softening. "Oh, I have some idea…...but no matter, how are you faring Great One?"

Danny swallowed hard, his voice shaking. "I'm stuck in the future, Doc. I don't know how to get back." He paused, searching the yeti's face for answers. "I need help."

The ghostly physician waved a dismissive hand. "Your guardian says all is as it should be. There is no need for concern."

"My guardian?" Danny's brow furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean? Who are you talking about?"

Before Dr. Bonechiller could respond, McCoy strode back into the room, Captain Kirk close behind.

Kirk's eyes widened slightly at the sight of the holographic yeti, but he quickly composed himself. "Dr. Bonechiller, I presume? I'm Captain James T. Kirk of the USS Enterprise. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise, Captain," Dr. Bonechiller replied cordially.

Kirk wasted no time getting to the point. "Doctor, do you know of any way to return Danny to his own time? Or Even to this infinity realm?”

Danny held his breath, hope rising in his chest. But Dr. Bonechiller shook his head, his expression apologetic. "I'm afraid that's beyond my abilities, Captain. I gave young Daniel this device in the past, but bringing him to the Ghost Zone now would not solve his temporal displacement."

"But—" Danny tried to interject, only to be cut off again.

"You see," Dr. Bonechiller continued, "Daniel's guardian has the power to return him to his proper time. However, this guardian has foreseen these events and won't retrieve Daniel until certain... circumstances have come to pass."

Danny's eyes widened. "Wait, are you talking about Clockwork?"

Dr. Bonechiller's amused chuckle sent a chill down Danny's spine. "Ah, young Daniel. You still have much to learn about ghost etiquette and cultural norms. You've already been adopted, you know."

"Adopted?" Danny sputtered, his face paling. "What do you mean, adopted?"

Dr. McCoy leaned forward, his brow furrowed with concern. "Now, hold on just a minute. What's all this about adoption and guardians? He has human parents.”

"In the Infinite Realms, it is common for elder ghosts to adopt newly formed ones to guide them as they grow into their powers. And young phantom was not getting the care he needed from his human parents.”

Danny blushed deeply at this, feeling embarrassed on his parents’ behalf. “They just didn’t know! I was going to tell them at some point…...they tried!”

Dr. Bonecrusher gave Danny a gentle look in response. “It’s perfectly alright to have more than one guardian. And to gain favor with an ancient is no small thing.”

Kirk spoke up before Danny got a chance. "And why has this Clockwork chosen not to bring Danny back to his own time, as a guardian should?"

Dr. Bonechiller shrugged, his fur rippling. "I cannot say for certain. I only know that I was tasked with giving the Great One this device years ago in his past. Clockwork's motives are his own."

As Kirk opened his mouth to ask another question, the ghostly physician held up a hand. "Captain, I'm afraid I can only maintain this connection for a short while longer. This device was designed to navigate the fluxing times of the zone, you should be talking to the version of me from Danny’s time, it’s probably only Clockworks will, we are speaking now. But I am willing to share any medical information pertaining to the Great One, with his consent."

Danny nodded, giving his consent.

Kirk nodded, sensing the doctor's urgency. Through out this entire conversation Kirk was wondering why the ghost doctor kept calling Danny, ‘great one,’ but seeing as time was limited, he’d have to bring it up to Danny later. He could sense there was a story there.

Dr. Bonechiller's holographic form shifted slightly. "Very well. To begin with, Daniel's ghost core is quite young - only about a year old, if my calculations are correct. In ghost terms, he's essentially a toddler."

McCoy's eyebrows shot up. "A toddler? But he's-"

"His core is still developing," Dr. Bonechiller continued. "This means he'll be prone to emotional outbursts and may struggle to control his abilities, especially as new ones manifest."

Danny felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment. *Great,* he thought. *Now they're gonna treat me like a little kid.*

Dr. Bonechiller wasn't finished. "Furthermore, due to his unique hybrid nature, Daniel may remain in a 'teenage' state for up to a decade. His aging process won't follow typical human patterns."

"That explains why he looks so young," McCoy muttered, glancing at Danny with a mix of concern and fascination.

Danny couldn't contain himself any longer. "Wait, what? I'm gonna be stuck as a kid for years? That's not fair!"

Dr. Bonechiller's voice took on a gentler tone. "I understand your frustration, Great One. But remember, ghost aging is influenced by multiple factors. Facing challenges and having a stable, safe environment to grow in can help accelerate the process."

Danny slumped in his chair, his mind reeling. He caught Kirk and McCoy exchanging worried glances and felt a pang of anxiety. What did this mean for his future on the Enterprise?

Kirk placed a reassuring hand on Danny's shoulder, his eyes filled with understanding. "We'll do everything we can to provide that for you, Ensign Fenton."

"Alright, Dr. McCoy," Captain Kirk continued with a sigh, "extract whatever knowledge you can from our spectral colleague here. I’ll be looking forward to the report. It was a pleasure meeting you Dr. Bonechiller.”

“Likewise, Captain.” Dr. Bonechiller replied with a nod of his fury head.

Kirk left sickbay, giving Danny privacy with his medical information, as Doctor Mccoy asked more in-depth questions of the other doctor.

***

After a suprisinly lenthy conversation regarding Danny’s health and medical history. Doctor Bonechiller, changed the topic to proper nutrition for the young hybrid.

"Alright, Danny, let's discuss your diet," Dr. Bonechiller's deep voice resonated from the communicator, a holographic image of his yeti-like appearance flickering above the small device. "Given the scarcity of ecto plasma in this time period, I've made some substitutions."

Danny's stomach growled at the mention of food, and he felt his face flush. Dr. McCoy raised an eyebrow, his lips pursing into a thin line.

"Substitutions?" McCoy raised an eyebrow, leaning forward with interest.

"More solid foods, especially proteins. He'll need to eat nearly twice as much as a normal growing teen," Dr. Bonechiller explained, scrolling through a digital document that appeared beside his image.

"Twice as much?" McCoy turned to Danny, his tone tinged with annoyance. "You never mentioned being hungry!"

"I didn't want to get caught," Danny mumbled, staring at his feet. "I was hungry a lot, but I figured it was better than revealing myself."

McCoy's face reddened. "You should have said something sooner, kid!”

McCoy crossed his arms and fixed Danny with a stern glare, though concern flickered in his eyes. “I'm a doctor, it's my job to make sure you're healthy."

Danny nodded, properly chastised. "Yes sir, I'm sorry. I'll be more upfront from now on."

"Good," Bones grumbled.

Dr. Bonechiller interjected, "I will also note that with proper nutrition, Danny's need to fulfill his obsessions will lessen somewhat."

"Obsessions?" McCoy echoed, puzzled.

"Ah, yes." The yeti nodded. "It's akin to a purpose or innate drive. All ghosts have one, sometimes several. It's best for Danny to explain his personal ones to you."

Danny felt his heart rate quicken. *Great, another weird ghost thing to explain. *

McCoy turned to Danny, his expression softening slightly. "We'll discuss that later, son. For now, let's focus on getting you properly fed."

As they wrapped up the nutrition talk, Dr. Bonechiller's image began to flicker. "The connection is fading." he said, his voice distorting.

“I’m sending a compressed data file with more detailed information on halfa biology and various factors for you and Dr. McCoy to review. I'm afraid, however, that further communication is unlikely - the chronal flux of the Ghost Zone seems to be interfering with the signal." Dr. Bonechiller continued.

Before they could get clarification, Dr. Bonechiller's image winked out, leaving them in stunned silence.

McCoy sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Well, at least we got that biological data. I'll need to figure out how to transfer it from this blasted stone to our computers."

Danny stared at the now-silent communicator, his mind reeling. What did Bonechiller mean about time interference? And how was he going to explain his "obsessions" to Dr. McCoy? The thought made his palms sweat. One crisis at a time, Fenton, he told himself. First, food. Then... everything else.

Dr. McCoy turned to Danny, his expression softening slightly. "Alright, kid. You've had quite the day. Why don't you rest up for a bit? We'll be having a power demonstration later, and I want you at your best."

****

A few hours later, Danny stood nervously in one of the Enterprise's spacious cargo bays. Captain Kirk, Mr. Spock, Dr. McCoy, Mr. Scott, The Chief of security, lieutenant Uhura and Lieutenant Sulu were assembled, watching him with keen interest.

Danny felt his heart racing with anticipation and a touch of fear. He couldn't help but wonder: What if they saw him as a threat once they knew what he could do? What if this was the thing that finally made them decide he was too dangerous to keep around?

No, he told himself firmly. I'll show them I can control it. I'll prove I'm not a danger to anyone.

Kirk looked up from his Datapad, reading off of the list of abilities Danny had sent him. It was an impressive list, most of it Kirk was having trouble believing the scrawny teen could do. “I understand, there are a few things you can do in both forms? Is this correct?”

“Yes, sir. I can do more in my ghost form, but there are some abilities I can do in both, its usually weaker in my human form.”

“I see, Danny, I’m going to read off a few of these abilities, for you to demonstrate, and if some are too dangerous for you to demonstrate I want you to explain them to the best of your abilities.”

“Yes, sir.”

"I’d like you to show your abilities in your human form first. Starting with invisibility, and intangibility. Whenever you're ready, Mr. Fenton," Captain Kirk said, his voice kind but carrying an undercurrent of authority.

Taking a deep breath, Danny, blinked out of view. He smirked at the gasps of those who hadn’t seen him do this already. Then blinking back into view, Danny walked up to a crate and phased through it. Simply walking through to the other side, like it was the hologram.

"Isn't that dangerous? What if it fails and you get stuck in the crate."  lieutenant Uhura asked, her voice tinged with worry and fear.

Danny shrugged, “I don’t know, that’s never happened before……but I think I’d be fine.”

After explaining how he could do these abilities at the same time and how he could also make objects and people intangible and invisible, the captain asked him to demonstrate some abilities in his ghost form.

Danny took a deep breath, closing his eyes. "I'm going ghost," he whispered, more out of habit than necessity. He felt the familiar cold energy wash over him, transforming him from the inside out.

When he opened his eyes, he saw the astonished faces of the Enterprise crew staring back at him. Danny Phantom floated a few inches off the ground, his white hair and glowing green eyes a stark contrast to his human form.

"Fascinating," Mr. Spock murmured, his eyebrow raised in what Danny was beginning to recognize as his expression of intrigue.

“I would like a demonstration of the same abilities you can do in your human form, and the ecto-blast, duplication and shielding you have listed here.” Captain Kirk ordered.

Lifting gently into the air, ghostly tail replacing his legs, Danny took another fortifying breath. Time to show them what a halfa could do.

"I'll start with something small..." Raising a gloved hand, Danny concentrated ectoplasmic energy into his palm, forming it into a swirling green orb. The officers murmured.

Then, face setting in determination, Danny flew through a complex aerial pattern. He phased cleanly through a stack of cargo containers, unleashed a hail of ecto-blasts at a target, split himself into 4 duplicate Phantoms, and, finally, crafted a huge dome-shaped ectoplasmic shield around the entire group of watching officers.

Breathing hard, Danny floated back down, shifting back to human form as he landed. He looked up at the officers' faces, trying to gauge their reactions. Awe, intrigue, fear, wonder...it was all there.

"So...yeah. That's, um...that's some of what I can do." Danny rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously. "I know it's a lot. And kind of scary, the power I have. But I swear, I only want to use it to help people. To protect the crew." He met the Captain's eyes imploringly. "I'd never hurt anyone here. You have to believe that."

Kirk stepped forward, still looking shaken but also thoughtful. He studied Danny for a long moment. Then, slowly, he reached out and clasped the halfa's shoulder.

"I do believe that, Danny. You've already shown you have the heart of a Starfleet officer." He smiled slightly. “I think that’s enough for today, the explanations you have in this ability sheet will be enough for the rest of it. Although expect some clarifying questions on some these other one’s you have listed. But as I understand it, some of these are too dangerous to demonstrate?”

Danny sighed in relieve, he had make sure to add as much detail to that list as possible. He was so glad he didn’t have to show a ghostly wail, he’d for sure destroy something vital. “Yes, sir, if you have any questions, I’ll try my best to answer.”

"I appreciate your honesty, Mr. Fenton. Now you’re dismissed.”

**

Kirk, Spock, and McCoy convened in the Captain's ready room, the door swishing shut behind them with an air of finality. For a long moment, they simply stared at each other, the weight of what they'd just witnessed hanging heavy in the air.

"Well," McCoy said at last, breaking the silence. "That was...something else."

"Indeed," Spock agreed, one eyebrow climbing towards his hairline. "The extent of Mr. Fenton's abilities is quite remarkable. And potentially concerning."

Kirk nodded, his brow furrowed as he leaned back against his desk, arms crossed. "Agreed. The kid's got power, that's for sure. More than any one person should probably have."

McCoy's eyes sharpened. "You think he's a threat, Jim?"

"No," Kirk said immediately, then sighed. "At least, not intentionally. I meant what I said - I don't believe Danny would ever deliberately harm anyone on this ship. But Spock's right, that level of power...it could be dangerous, if he ever lost control."

"Which brings us to our next problem," McCoy said grimly. "Command. We're going to have to report this, Jim. And when we do..."

He trailed off, but they all knew what he meant. The admiralty's reaction to a crewmember with superhuman abilities was unlikely to be a positive one. Plus Danny had been someone who had hacked their way on board, that would not go over well.

Kirk's jaw tightened. "Then we don't tell them. Not everything, anyway."

Spock tilted his head. "Captain?"

"I'm not suggesting we lie," Kirk clarified. "But we report only the bare essentials. That Danny is half-human, with some extranormal abilities that could prove useful in first contact situations. We leave out the specifics of what he can do, at least until we know more ourselves."

McCoy crossed his arms, his brow furrowed. "We're treading on thin ice here, Jim. You know how folks react to anything that has an ounce of extra abilities. Danny's... different. He hasn't used his powers against any of us, and from what I've read about these ghost obsessions, and talked to Danny about what his are, that protection complex of his might be why."

"Indeed," Spock added, "his non-human biology may influence his ethical conduct. Unlike many humans who might exploit such power for personal gain, Danny does not exhibit those tendencies."

"Which is why we need to guide him," Kirk affirmed, his resolve hardening. Kirk turned to Spock. "I want you to work with him on controlling his powers, especially in emotional situations. It's clear that his feelings directly impact what he can do."

"Understood, Captain," Spock replied, his tone measured. "I shall endeavor to provide him with the necessary training to maintain equilibrium."

"Good." Kirk glanced at both of his officers. "Let's keep this between us for now. We'll inform the Academy and the Admirals of only what they need to know. For Danny's sake—and for the ship's."

"Agreed," McCoy said with a nod. "The last thing that boy needs is to become some sort of lab experiment because people got scared."

"Then it's settled." Kirk's voice was firm, his command clear. "We protect our own. Danny stays.”

*****

Dr. McCoy approached Danny with a PADD in hand, his expression a mix of concern and determination. "Alright, Danny, you're free to go.”

Danny's shoulders sagged with relief, but he eyed the PADD warily. "What's that?"

"Your new schedule," McCoy replied, handing it over. "I've got your schedule all set up. Classes, training sessions, therapy appointments - it's all there. And I expect you to stick to it, you hear me?"

Danny scrolled through the PADD, his eyes widening. "This is... a lot."

"You've got a lot of catching up to do, kid," McCoy said, not unkindly. "Oh, and you've got a new roommate. Ensign Luke McCann, he's 18. Should be a better fit."

Danny's stomach churned with a mix of excitement and anxiety. "A roommate my age? Well, closer to my age..."

McCoy continued, "you're also only cleared for part-time work in Engineering, with your age, full-time isn't appropriate yet."

"Part-time is better than no time," Danny said, attempting to mask his disappointment with optimism. "

"And Spock will be helping you with some meditation techniques," McCoy added, watching as Danny's face shifted from relief to apprehension. "It'll help you manage those powers of yours, especially when your emotions run high."

"Commander Spock? Really?" Danny's voice cracked slightly. "But... what if I mess up?”

A half-smile tugging at the corner of Mccoy’s mouth. "Spock's not going to judge you, kid. He's here to help. Besides, it takes more than a bit of raw emotion to rattle that Vulcan."

"Great," Danny muttered, his mind racing. He looked up at McCoy, feeling overwhelmed. "Dr. McCoy, I... thank you. For everything."

The doctor's expression softened slightly. “Remember, Danny - stick to that schedule. And comm me if you need anything.  Now get out of my sickbay before I change my mind."

As Danny left, he couldn't shake the conflicting emotions swirling inside him. Relief at being accepted, uncertainty about what lay ahead, and a nagging fear that he might not be able to live up to everyone's expectations.

Chapter 11

[1schadenfreude1]

Rewriting Cain Boyfriend to Death 2 Love how the BTD fandom just collectively agreed to adopt EP's characters as our own I am absolutely tormented by the fact that Cain had so much potential but just. does not have the best writing ugh he's too similar to Rire and it kills me SO I am rewriting the fallen angel, lots of headcanons below the cut

Cain's number one motivation for why he does what he does is BOREDOM He's been torturing people in hell for centuries and it's become BORING. He wants something new, something interesting. He wants to see live humans and savor their emotions. Cain misses being human He'd never admit it out loud of course, but he does miss having real human emotions and enjoying human pleasures. Of course he can't be on earth too long while angels are hunting him, but maybe, spending time with humans will help him regain some of that human feeling?

Cain is chaotic evil incarnate LISTEN everyone in btd2 is a silly dork and Cain should be one too. He should have the most unpredictable and immature chaotic energy. Do you trust this face??? You shouldn't

I think he just. does shit without thinking. Like he's been away from real humans for so long that he's sort of forgotten how fragile they can be.

"Oh c'mon little toy you can handle a little boiling water, right? Hello? Human? Fuck. Guess I need a new one." Yeah he's incredibly overpowered but that doesn't mean he knows how to USE that power lmao. He doesn't know how to interact with people anymore. he wants to be human again, but all he really knows how to do is…torture people. he's so dumb.

Straight up contradicting canon here but-- Cain feels bad for killing Abel Asking about Abel makes Cain get SUPER uncomfortable and shut down. He doesn't wanna talk about it. He definitely doesn't feel remorse about it. Nope. No remorse here. Abel is DEAD and GONE and good riddance and he DEFINITELY doesn't have lingering issues about it. Fuck you. Rips you apart with chains.

He loves bullying Damien though They have each other's phone numbers for god's sake. Cain sends Damien gore porn of the people he's killed. Those two try to kill each other on a weekly basis. It's normal for them. Yes that is Damien's severed arm on the living room wall. It brings Cain joy. Don't worry about it. Totally normal thing to say to your sibling

Cain and Rire are rivals I think this is basically canon (based on Darqx's gorgeous art and animatics) but I wanna delve into it a bit! They're both incredibly powerful supernatural monsters, but their main difference comes down to this: Rire is lawful evil Cain is chaotic evil Cain kills people for purely selfish reasons: he wants to see human reactions and feel their emotions again. He thinks that causing pain will help him feel human. Rire kills people because its his job to collect souls. He loves his job and has a lot of fun with it, but in the end its still his job.

Cain is much, much older but Rire is way more mature

Cain is more powerful, but can't do much when he's stuck in Tartarus Rire is less powerful but has much more freedom of movement

Cain likes to play the long game, seducing victims with romance before going sadistic on them Rire is a busy demon; he likes to have fun but needs that soul sooner rather than later

Cain plans long elaborate dates because he's bored and reads too many romance novels Rire's plans are short and brutal, he does what he wants and that's it

Cain loves humans and wants to savor their reactions and emotions Rire hates humans and treats them like disposable toys

Cain is more interested in pain than sex, he won't rape a victim unless he really likes them Rire likes sex lmao. its a power rush for him and it feels good I hope my ramblings make sense lol

[zaceouiswriting]

Fairy Prince - Hearts of Leviathans - Ch.41

Character: Sky x male reader, Riven x male reader, Brandon x male reader

Universe: Somewhere in Winx Club/Saga

Warnings: None

Author's note: There is a new character below. He might be a rival of the three roommates.

Grumbling under the shower's warm water, I try everything in my power not to let my anger out. I suppress the fiery rage that wants to slam Corey's head into the nearest wall I see. How could someone like him order me to do anything? But here I am, naked and wet, and the scent of flowers wafts into my nose. I don't know where it's coming from, but I must admit it calms me down. It must have been that damn Riven again. Somehow, he has a million tricks up his sleeve despite apparently being nothing more than a street kid. Even a blind man can see something wrong with him, but I just can't get past the barriers he's put up. Frustrated, I slam my fist against the wall, my anger quickly evaporating under the calming scent.

As I emerge from my bathroom, I immediately run into Corey, who seems to have been waiting for me with some of my carefully folded clothes beside him. He raises an eyebrow questioningly and tilts his head slightly, surprising me. After a few cautious steps, I stand before him. Without hesitation, he dresses me like no one has in years. All the while, my eyes rest on the artifact I made for him around his arm. I can't help but smile, knowing he'll be safe with it no matter what since he's already agreed to be one of my people. And if my hunch is right, like the feeling in my stomach when I made it for him, it'll show its use sooner rather than later.

"By what honor did I deserve this treatment?" I put a particularly sarcastic tone in my voice to make it clear that this is unusual, even for a moron like Corey.

"I had to check something," he murmurs. So, the intense gaze I felt on me wasn't just the imagination of a lecherous young man who misses the love of his life a little too much. Furthermore, it isn't helped by the constant "compromises" I make to keep Riven close. "You should remain vigilant, Your Highness. Some closest to you seem to be under a spell."

My whole body immediately stiffens. So, I'm not the only one who noticed something is off with these three? Slowly, I turn around; my gaze makes Corey, the Aura Master, quiver. "What do you know?" My voice is garbled; one of the crystals on my ring glows brightly as my hand shoots forward, grabbing him by the throat before he can answer. As I pick him up, suspicion rises within me. Is he one of them? Can this be another attempt on my life? Is this even the real Corey? He seems so different, and yet it could be him. It feels like that night when my little brother Galan almost died because of me and the 'Black Hand' assassination group. Of all their bounties, I am the only one still alive, although they have tried many times to take my last breath. The organization is so old that there is no documentation; people only know rumors and legends. Despite their legendary status, they could not kill a young boy protecting his bleeding little brother. This could easily be one of their clumsy attempts.

"Do you truly think I haven't thought about it already?" I couldn't hide my disappointment. How could I, when someone supposedly close to me, thinks so little of me, almost as if I were a greenhorn? "I may not be the most diplomatic type or well versed in administrative matters, but when it comes to war or infiltration, I always keep both eyes open, although I'm not sure what they have taken or were forced to take, as their behavior is strangely unstable; one day they act one way and the next day completely different."

I see Corey's cheeks glowing red out of the corner of my eye. He's obviously embarrassed, probably because I called him out. All the while, he is dutifully dressing me right down to the shoes I wear, strangely without a single incident, like he's done it a million times.

As soon as I'm standing in front of him fully clothed, I grab his jacket and tie, straightening them so they fit properly. "Never forget, even if others don't know it, you represent me, not my grandfather, our planet, or our country, just me, since the day you put this artifact around your arm." His gaze quickly jumps to the artifact, and a one-sided smile plays around his lips for a second.

He slams his fist against his chest, holding it at a twenty-five-degree angle, his back stiff and his legs close together. "I understand, sir!" he calls suddenly. 

When I hear this, I shake my head speechlessly. I already regret all my actions, but he is one of the best and will only get better in the future. I am sure of that. Despite this, as long as he is by my side, I know that the future I saw will never become a reality.

I walk past him without saying a word, but before I know it, he's the one opening the door to the suite and even the hallway. He's too attentive, even considering I finally accept him, almost as if he wants to protect me from something.

Walking through the empty hallways, I motion for him to walk beside me, which he does reluctantly. Risking a quick glance, I see him chewing on the left corner of his lower lip. But why would he be nervous?

My interest quickly shifts as I see no one anywhere. Although I could ask Corey, I don't think he wants to talk right now. He seems too preoccupied with his thoughts. He looks pretty cute like this, with his head slightly tilted and his mind obviously in the clouds. As I watch him for a while, a giggle escapes me out of the blue.

Suddenly, Corey's head turns towards me, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "I'm sorry," I mumble, still giggling. "You looked just too cute, so deep in thought."

His confusion is quickly replaced by a shy blush, his right hand flying to the back of his neck, scratching it awkwardly. Although visibly embarrassed, a small smile still curls on his lips. My heart beats a little faster; his smile always gives me a warm feeling as he is like my big brother, which is why his stupid little brother and I are so close.

When I push him a little more, Corey quickly looks away; he obviously doesn't want to be teased further. I get the hint and turn away from him. I try to suppress my giggles, but I can't manage it.

It's a pretty comfortable atmosphere between us until we reach the cafeteria. Silence reigns in the previously chatty room as we step through the archway. Within a moment, I see all eyes on me, and none of them are nice. It baffles me. I thought I had left all that hostility behind, but even the few fairies who had become friendly couldn't be colder to me.

I open my mouth to ask the room what's happening but stop when I feel the hostility growing. Instead, I look for help, but no one seems to think I'm worthy. When I try again, a scream suddenly rings out.

"Keep your filthy mouth shut!" I know that voice already, Stella, and she's angrier than ever. Yet when I catch her eye, I can see a certain glimmer of satisfaction in it, while her face wears a facade of fury, like a courtier showing his ruler everything he wants. She walks around her table and toward me. Within a short time, an echoing sound and a stabbing pain stunned me even more. Her manicured hand withdraws from my face. "You disgust me when you try to force yourself on a fairy... it's simply revolting."

When I hear her words, I want nothing more than to burst out in laughter, but her slap has made me angry. I raise my hand to return what I have received. As my hand shoots forward, I watch the movement with eager anticipation. Just before I feel her skin beneath mine, my hand gets stopped. Even though I can see it, it takes me a moment to realize it. Slowly, my gaze travels up my arm, only to find Corey's hand, preventing me from receiving proper compensation. I'm about to give him a piece of my mind, only to feel the same sting across my other cheek.

While I'm arguing with Corey with just our eyes, Stella is already on another rampage. "Do you believe me now?" she screams into the room. "He just tried to hit me! What kind of man would do this?"

Anger erupts throughout the room before I can say anything in my defense. The fairies jump up and throw the most disgusting words they can think of at me while the specialists sit back and either stare at me in disgust or look down at their food. They are no longer protecting or defending me like they were before. No one, not my roommates or Vinok, has said anything, not even Corey, who still holds my hand.

What's going on? Have I entered another dimension? But when I see Stella's dirty grin, I immediately realize she has staged the whole thing. I even have an idea what she's referring to. Looking for Bloom, I find her, although her eyes are nowhere near mine. She has one arm crossed over her chest, holding her other side, hopefully out of shame. After everything that happened between us, I thought she was different. I even thought we could be friends. Friends, what a strange word. Almost everyone I've ever called a 'friend' has not only disappointed me but betrayed me.

A burning sensation suddenly distracts me from my dark thoughts, but it wasn't a slap this time. Before I know it, I feel tears gathering in the corners of my eyes. I don't realize the next moment until my head is resting on a solid chest. One hand presses my head against it while the other holds my body upright. I didn't even notice my knees going weak. "Don't," the guy whispers, his voice deep and soft like caramel. "They don't deserve to see you like this."

I try to breathe calmly and hold back the tears, but it's hard. But seconds later, I can no longer restrain myself. I let all my emotions flow and cry silently against his chest while he strokes my head soothingly.

I have no idea how long I stand pressed against his chest; neither does he urge me to move on, nor does he even mention that I should stop crying. But at some point, I just feel exhausted and weak. I want to hug him so badly, but Corey still holds my right hand in the air. When I catch Corey's eye after forcing my head away from that warm, firm chest, I see nothing but shock and fear, but I don't care. It will be the last betrayal I can accept that day.

"If you do not remove your hand from me, soldier, I will cut it off, travel back to Gyonos, give it to your family before I massacre them all, and bring you their heads on spikes."

But the second I'm about to walk away, the same hand that was holding my head to his chest flies to my waist, just in time to stop me from collapsing. He tries everything in his power not to damage what's left of my dignity, as he has to almost carry me out of the room.

He carries me out of there with no problem, still making it seem like I'm walking, even though I'm barely touching the ground. When I see him trying to carry me back to my dorm, I beg him not to do it because I don't want to face my roommates anytime soon after what they did.

He looks around momentarily and quickly changes his path to the other side of the school. "Just pick a room; the door will be open," I whisper, barely awake. Those few tears have already robbed me of all the energy I had left. I haven't had such a rush of emotions in years.

As told, he opens the next room and finds a richly furnished room with a large, finely carved bed made of black wood and covered in red velvet. Although annoyed, I say nothing, as the building is playing tricks on me again.

He helps me get into bed. As soon as I'm under the covers, he tries to leave. Even though it's selfish, I ask him to stay. I see hesitation in his eyes for a moment, but soon after, he sighs, shakes his head, and turns around with a gentle smile on his soft-looking lips

Without hesitation, he takes off most of his clothes, literally jumps into bed, and buries himself under the covers until he is right behind me. He wraps his strong arms around me, his olive skin a stark contrast to mine. I just lie there for a while, unable to fall asleep despite the protective arms around me.

(Callisto, or at least the one I could find closest to what I'm looking for. If any of you know someone who better fits my vision, with dark curly hair, olive skin, muscular, and a bit cocky, please let me know.)

"I never believed those deprived rumors about you," the guy behind me suddenly says, "not since you told me about him at one of our hangouts after your personal training."

His confession stiffens me. I told him about my first love. I don't remember it. "Callisto, are you sure?" I hear it first—the uncertainty in my voice. Am I unsure of my memory?

“Absolutely,” he replies almost immediately, “Ma-”

Startled, I turn around in his arms and press my hand over his mouth. "Please don't."

His mysterious dark eyes, which I can never read, become softer, and something sparkles in the corners of his eyes. He nods slightly, and I take my hands off his truly soft lips; now I know for sure.

Nothing is said for a moment; we just look at each other until I see his gaze dart down and back up again. "You know, I never thought we would end up like thi-"

"Callisto," I interrupt him rather rudely. Even he seems taken aback because he moves his head slightly back. "Now is not the right time for any romantic gestures."

His deep chuckle, rippling through his body, fills my heart with warmth and makes me sink completely into him. I can no longer resist his natural charm and let myself melt into his strong frame, with my head firmly against his chest.

"Okay," he finally replies, his chuckles fading. He tightens his arms around me, and his lips suddenly touch my ear. "Then I'll hold you until you feel better."

Before I know it, I breathe a sigh of relief, knowing that I am protected, at least for a little while, because I am sure he won't do anything while I sleep peacefully in his arms, like the knight in shining armor that he is to me. Maybe he's the right choice. But as my mind drifts to sleep, I remember my three roommates. Could I forgive them? Could anyone really conquer my broken heart?

[Masterlist]

[seaofreverie]

Sparkstember Day 19: Lil' Beethoven (Ride 'Em Cowboy)

First of all, let this very important fact be known: the love I have for all three albums in the Lil' Beethoven trilogy cannot be overstated. I think I can safely call them my favourite pieces of art ever made. You know, when you look forward to something and it not only lives up to all your expectations but it's also just SO SO much more? Something about this neoclassical / dada / deconstruction of pop music / whatever-you-should-even-call-it approach is absolutely PERFECTLY suited for my tastes, and I didn't even know I was looking for something EXACTLY like this until I found it.

I think the circumstances of my first hearing of this album are pretty funny and something I got pretty lucky with actually (I often think about this with Sparks in general, as much as I wish I've known about them sooner I also do feel like they appeared in my life when I needed that the most. But anyway.) I was very eagerly looking forward to hearing it and finally seeing for myself what the genius of this album is all about. But I insisted that I can only do it through a physical format because yesss, let's make it even more *special*! The moment I've been waiting for! So yeah let's gooo, I need to wait until my CD arrives in the mail (that was one of the longest weeks of my life). And then I started to wonder, well, maybe I actually won't like it that much. To hype myself up to this extent and then be severly dissapointed - would have sucked!

Well, I was NOT dissapointed. Instead I was perplexed, confused, but also very intrigued and quite, ok not just quite, *completely* amazed already. That was the initial reaction and I think it's a rare but very beautiful moment when this happens - no need to *fully* grasp it right away, but enough to be all like "oh that was SOMETHING. I need more." As I said after that first listen (and I actually have my whole LIVE reaction to hearing LB written down lmao, that's how much of a big deal this was for me), I felt like it actually has to grow on me a bit still, gradually but surely with each next listen, rather than the 1st listen being THE prime listening experience. And that was very true! But it wasn't even gradual, it was very fast, seriously. And something very important that stood out to me right away too were the melodies - something about them, and that continues into HYL and ECOTD too. It's this classic feeling of: this always existed, or at least it feels like I've known it for years already. And as I listen more and become more familiar with them the magic still grows.

It's of course no coincidence to me that an album that relies so much on extreme levels of repetition is so addicting, even hypnotising. And once upon a time I thought that I couldn't like something that's too repetitive and therefore could be considered monotonous or "predictable". But nothing is predictable about LB actually. (Besides... ok, I'll get to that one bit later). But yeah, it's good for the brain. And it's been said before by others but this music definitely has this certain neurodivergent appeal thanks to all this, and, well, I love that aspect of it so much and I definitely relate to it on some level that goes even deeper than just song topics and instrumentation choices. It's in the structure and the fundaments of it all too.

I legally can't finish this without a dedicated paragraph to the 2004 Live In Stockholm performance because HOLY SHIT. Feeling so lucky again that all three of these albums got this treatment and we have recordings of these half-concert-half-performance-art pieces that we can now marvel at. I will say that like, a pretty big part of the sum of the appeal that LB has as an album is stored in this show and its visual and narrative elaboration on its themes. And also it's just so fun to watch! Sometimes I thought about how this might be an even better introduction to LB / this era of Sparks / Sparks in general than the actual album but well, never had a chance to test that and you know. Maybe shouldn't recommend Sparks with one of the most leftfield things there is to be found from them. Either way, very good, very important, felt like experiencing the power of LB for the first time all over again.

So now, please hear my exact reasonings for why I so deeply love (almost) every single one of these songs......

The Rhythm Thief

NO song made such a big impression on me the first time I heard it as this. I might have gotten more used to it after all this time but man, The Rhythm Thief, you will always be the realest one to me. This is what made me look forward to the whole album so much and convinced me that it would be like nothing else I've heard before. And that turned out to be so very beautifully true!

How Do I Get To Carnegie Hall?

I could listen to this one a hundred times in a row over and over and not get sick of it one bit. That's it, idk what else to add, beautiful and ethereal in every way

What Are All These Bands So Angry About?

Mostly I just want to direct everyone's attention to the bridge section, at the 2:26-2:52 time mark, which as far as I can say is the most heavenly piece of music ever made. Feeling like that Winnie The Pooh soul leaving his body gif each time I hear this

I Married Myself

Aromantic anthem, to me. Not that much to say actually but it's just, a very sweet and pretty song even when it might be taken as just this sort of ironic piece, I think it's this situation where a song can be taken more or less literally and it doesn't lose anything, rather the sincerity takes on a new sort of meaning? Because yes, maybe this hyperbolic situation (marrying yourself) COULD be the solution to the heartbreak of failed relationships. Ever thought about that??? Ok, stopping right here and leaving my I Married Myself analysis for another day

Ride 'Em Cowboy

My mind is blank on this one suddenly. But it's so good believe me. I love it a lot. It just has this LB spirit that makes it very addicting to listen to

My Baby's Taking Me Home

This was sort of the first Sparks song I've ever heard, or maybe that I quote-unquote purposefully listened to, and I think that's pretty important considering that it was the moment that ultimately lead to... all this. This song has always been incredibly beautiful and powerful to me, but lately it just makes me emotional to an extent that makes it hard to listen to most of the time. I WOULD sell all my material possessions for even one chance to experience this song live by the way

Your Call Is Very Important To Us. Please Hold

Earns soooo much as a live version, but even without that I think it's genius in the same way as The Rhythm Thief, and maybe the most disquieting piece here overall... If we ignore the next one maybe

Ugly Guys With Beautiful Girls

Sitting there hearing the intro of this song all like "huh, this is so chill and calm... too calm..." and then being hit with, well, everything that's going on in this song afterwards was truly THE MOMENT back in the day (and re: the predictability thing. idk though, it's not like, really an issue). Later on I decided that this sort of narrative nature of the song makes it have less replayability value than the rest (???) but I abandoned that opinion soon enough, thank god. I love it how long it took me to realize that this song and the ending of MBTMH are the only times when drums appear on this entire album (I mean no, I'm not very proud of that fact actually, as the self-proclaimed biggest LB fan in my area. And The Rhythm Thief literally saying "say goodbye to the beat"... come on man). So yes, sometimes less is more! I adore this song now it's such a treat I would gladly terrorize my neighbours with it

Suburban Homeboy

Ok, I'm sorry Suburban Homeboy fans but this is the only song here that I'm not a HUGE fan of. I still think it's brilliant and an incredibly fitting ending for the whole thing - the mood whiplash is amazing as this is the only "vaguely happy sounding" song on here, per my words from months back. And what's better than yelling WE ARE THE SUBURBAN HOMEBOYS! (I'm actually awaiting today's Sparks karaoke rating reveal very impatiently lol the reveal happened before I posted this and I'm very happy about it)

One more actually, a quick word on Wunderbar because it gave us two things that we might have not been able to do without: 1) this whole album actually (the fact that LB exists because of Wunderbar giving the Maels the idea to continue meddling with this style. Up there as one of my fav pieces of Sparks trivia) 2) anddddd the 21×21 performance of it of course

[acescorazon]

I LOVE YOUR FIC CHANGES!!!!! I HOPE YOU UPDATE SOON!!!!!

THANK U BBYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY. ILY MUAH. I was updating like every day but then i got my period... i mean i fell into a pit of darkness and didn't have the energy to climb out. How bizarre. ANYWAYS, HERE'S YOUR FOOD.

Title: Changes Ch: 5/?

Rating: M (I'm just putting that as the rating in general for every ch lol)

Word count:2291

Warnings: Depressed clown :(

Chapter excerpt:

"Mihawk keeps asking about you," Mohji announces all of a sudden, "He keeps asking if you're okay and if your illness is something serious." Hawkeye keeps asking about him… Why? To know if he's died yet? What a joke! That man doesn't care about Buggy, why is he even wasting his breath asking about him? "I just keep telling him that you have the flu, and he's always like, 'Ah…is that so? Tell him I hope he feels better.' Isn't that…ridiculous?!" Yeah, that is rather ridiculous.  Buggy has a hard time believing that Mihawk is genuinely concerned about him, but at the same time, he can't imagine why he'd just pretend to care either. It's weird.

|Ch1|Ch2|Ch3|Ch4|

The next several days are on an endless loop for Buggy. He stays in bed all day, unwilling to come face to face with Mihawk after his little drunken rant from days prior, afraid of what Mihawk will say to him now that he's completely sober. So, he stays in bed, either sleeping or lost in thought. He should be preparing men, supplies, and their new flagship for departure, but he can't bring himself to do it. At the very least he should be making sure everything on Emptee Bluffs Island is going smoothly, and yet… he doesn't care about that either. 

Being in Cross Guild is so…exhausting.

Crocodile has called for meetings every single day, and every day, Buggy has one of his men lie and say he's sick. He's missed about 10 meetings now, he thinks. He can't remember, everything is starting to blend in together. All he knows is that sooner or later Crocodile is going to get pissed and come looking for him, and then what? Beat him up? Threaten him? Actually, kill him this time? 

Man, who cares?

Cabaji, Mohji, and Richie, often come by and sit with him, usually overly worried about Buggy's well-being and not believing him when he says he's just sick or tired, but of course, Buggy always tells them that he's fine. 

Today, they're with him again, sitting by his bed and trying to get him to eat some of the sea king the other members of the crew somehow caught and killed today. "Captain…" Mohji sighs, "Come on, at least take a couple of bites." He asks, but he sounds more like he's begging than asking. "You've hardly eaten anything these last few days." While that is very true, it's because Buggy doesn't have much of an appetite these days, nothing tastes right or really interests him, and god knows he doesn't have the energy to make his own food…just… he just wants to sleep.

Buggy sits in his bed, slightly peeved that Cabaji and Mohji insist he sit up in general, and looks down at the sea king on his plate. He's not normally a picky eater, you can't be picky when you've spent most of your life at sea, but… this thing reminds him eerily of a poison dart frog with its vibrant color and spots, yet at the same time, it's got fins and a body like a snake... He doubts his men would actually cook up something poisonous, they aren't that naive…but still, Buggy has no interest in this fish..frog…snake thing. 

But if he did die from ingesting it…that'd just be his luck, wouldn't it? Death seems… inescapable at this point, and he often wonders just what or who will end up taking his life first. "I'm not hungry," Buggy repeats, but Mohji and Cabaji seem determined today.

 

"Just take a couple of bites, please, Captain?" Mohji practically begs, "Just a couple, it's actually really good!" Doubt it, Buggy thinks. 

Cabaji follows suit, "Yeah, just take a couple of bites and if you don't like it, you don't have to eat the whole thing! We'll just feed the rest to Richie, right, Mohji?" 

"Right!" 

Buggy really doesn't want to eat anything, but he hates to make the other two worry, so he ends up taking a couple of bites of his lunch, and yeah, it isn't bad…it's one of the better-tasting sea kings that he's had, this one actually tastes like chicken despite its weird appearance, but Buggy still only eats a couple of bites, just enough to get the other two off his back and then hands Mohji his plate to give to Richie. 

He wants to lie back down, but the others won't let him. "Um, Captain?" Cabaji calls out, seemingly a little nervous, "Uh, how about I run you a warm bath and…uh, How about I help you wash and brush your hair today?" Cabaji suggests with a small grin. Oh, yeah, basic needs are a thing. Man, Buggy really doesn't care about any of that stuff anymore, he's going to die anyways, so what's the point? He'll just ask one of his men to make him look nice for his funeral. 

"Okay?" Cabaji asks, still smiling.

Buggy understands what this really is about. This is a very polite and roundabout way of telling him he needs to bathe, but none of his men would ever outright tell him he stinks so they have to use words like, 'Oh, how about I run you a bath and help you wash your hair today?' Or, 'Wow, you look like you need to relax…how about a nice bath?' 

Whatever. 

Buggy lets Cabaji run him a bath, and he sits and waits in bed while he prepares everything for him. He watches Richie eat his leftover sea king, and can't help but think how nice it'd be to be a lion, well, actually a cat. If reincarnation exists, he thinks he'd like to live a carefree life as a cat, a spoiled one too. Being a pirate isn't something he thinks he'd want to do again unless he could live a life with his old crew again, this time a happy one that isn't cut short, maybe then he'd be a pirate again... Or he could be a star in the sky, that'd be nice. 

"Mihawk keeps asking about you," Mohji announces all of a sudden, "He keeps asking if you're okay and if your illness is something serious." Hawkeye keeps asking about him… Why? To know if he's died yet? What a joke! That man doesn't care about Buggy, why is he even wasting his breath asking about him? "I just keep telling him that you have the flu, and he's always like, 'Ah…is that so? Tell him I hope he feels better.' Isn't that…ridiculous?!" Yeah, that is rather ridiculous.  Buggy has a hard time believing that Mihawk is genuinely concerned about him, but at the same time, he can't imagine why he'd just pretend to care either. It's weird.

"Crocodile has asked about you too, but only once, and when I told him you had the flu, he rolled his eyes at me and went: 'Of course that dumb clown is sick.' And then walked away! I tell ya, I don't know what the others see in those two!" Mohji frowns, "They're so mean to you! I… I think if we all banned together then we could…you know…." He whispers the next part of his sentence, "Show them who's boss."

Honestly if Buggy thought he and or his crew had a chance against Mihawk and Crocodile, then he would have had both of them taken out a long time ago, but he knows even with an army of men, he couldn't take out one of his business partners, let alone both. It's a fun thought though, "Let's not waste our time," Buggy replies, exhaling a long, shaky sigh, "Besides, it's like I told you before, I can handle those two! Do you really think I'd let them beat and bully me?!" 

Mohji just stares at him from his seat, obviously not convinced but he doesn't push the subject any further, and thank God for that.

Cabaji reappears a few moments after that, telling Buggy his bathwater is ready, and in all honesty, Buggy rather not do this, but he doesn't feel like hearing the other two complain either. He follows Cabaji into the bathroom and tells him he can at least bathe himself, and somewhere at the back of Buggy's mind he feels like he should feel more ashamed by the situation, but he doesn't. His former captain always told him that good friends don't judge you when you're at your lowest times and that they instead help you when no one else will, and so maybe that's why he has no guilt about letting Cabaji wash his hair. He'd do the same for him and then some. He and Mohji are more than just subordinates, they're friends, no, they're family, and honestly Buggy doesn't deserve either one of them. 

As he washes Buggy's hair, Cabaji also tells Buggy that Mihawk keeps asking about him. Again, Buggy finds the idea of Mihawk asking all of Buggy’s crew about his well-being almost comical. Did the world’s strongest swordsman grow a heart? Ha, as if. Or maybe Buggy’s earlier suspicions are correct, maybe Mihawk’s waiting, hoping that Buggy’s ‘flu’ will take him out and that he won’t have to deal with him anymore, which honestly seems like a more realistic explanation for everything. 

A hot bath and a nice relaxing hair wash later, and Buggy’s sitting on the small couch in his room, getting his hair brushed by Cabaji as he listens to both Mohji and Cabaji ramble on about this and that, and occasionally bicker over trivial things. It feels like his men are the only consistency in his life, but he wonders if there will be a day when even that changes. Maybe he’ll end up with so many men that their crew will seem more like an army than a family, then again maybe he won’t live to see the day when that’s actually a problem. And if that doesn’t happen, then maybe Mihawk will eventually end up replacing Buggy’s crew with a new, more efficient one that he hardly knows let alone can consider his family…who knows?

Now, as stated before, Buggy’s usual visitors consist of Mohji, Cabaji and Richie, but today Buggy finds himself getting an additional guest in his room. Sometime around late afternoon Alvida joins Buggy’s already boisterous company, and as soon as she realizes Buggy’s perfectly fine, she sighs at him,”I knew you weren’t sick.” she mutters as she has a seat on the couch next to him after Cabaji and Mohji fight over who’s spot she can take, “But oh well, you won’t believe what I just saw.” She says, grinning. 

Hopefully, she saw Crocodile and Mihawk board a ship and sail as far away from the island as possible, never to return again, but that’s just not realistic, is it? “What did you see?” Buggy asks though he’s not particularly curious about her gossip today.

“Mihawk and Crocodile were fighting.”

“Crocodile and Mihawk bicker every once in a while, so what?” 

“No, they were actually physically fighting earlier.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know but they were both heated,” Alvida claims, “I think they reached a draw, but they were fighting for a long time, half the island saw it.”

Despite claiming that he doesn’t care about either of the two, Buggy’s slightly curious about Mihawk and Crocodile’s altercation. Sure they’ve butt heads a couple of times in the past because Crocodile is so damn overbearing and of course, Mihawk doesn’t take being bossed around lightly, but they never get physical with things, it’s usually just threats of possible fights that don’t go anywhere. Maybe that was it, maybe Crocodile just got too controlling again, and Mihawk got tired of it. He did say he was tired of Crocodile’s shit the other day… Yeah, that’s got to be it…Because what else could it be???

…

A couple of more days go by after that, and Buggy’s still stuck in that same loop: Sleep. Overthink. Sleep. Overthink. Sleep. Overthink. Of course, there are brief things that break the cycle like Mohji and Cabaji checking on him and feeding him and making sure he’s being taken care of, but other than that, it’s just sleep, overthink, repeat. He just doesn’t see the point in getting out of bed every day when Mihawk and Crocodile are just going to make his life a living hell, or worse, end his miserable existence. 

Despite all his stress though, there are times when his bedroom is rather comforting, he knows that it offers him no real protection from the outside world, but in his room he feels safe and like he’s miles away from all his problems even though they’re literally just right outside. He thinks he’s missed, hm…12 meetings now, maybe 13 …14? Who knows, he’s surprised that Crocodile is even still calling for them, or that he hasn’t come barging into his room to yank him out of his bed and beat him to death for ruining his perfect schedule.

Buggy doesn’t care about Cross Guild though (or for much of anything right now) he never has and he doubts he ever will. He’s perfectly fine just keeping himself locked away in his bedroom for as long as possible. Mohji will take care of the others and if he doesn’t, then Alvida will, and if she doesn’t, then Buggy’s sure that Crocodile and Mihawk will boss his men around, but they’re strong, spirited, and oblivious, they can handle anything. 

Something breaks his seemingly endless depressive cycle by the time he’s missed 18 meetings…or was it 19?

One of his men comes into his room around midmorning, like always, and tells him that a meeting has been called… But today, Mihawk’s the one who’s called for the meeting apparently, and Buggy instantly tells his subordinate to tell Mihawk that he’s still under the weather and can’t go to the meeting, to which his subordinate replies, “He says it’s urgent, Chairman Buggy, and that if you can’t go to the meeting room, that he’ll bring the meeting here instead.”

That’s got to be the worst, no, actually, the second worst thing he’s been told in his entire life. Why? Why now? Why can’t Mihawk and Crocodile just hold their dumb meetings by themselves? It’s not like Buggy gets to make any decisions or his input matters, why does he have to leave his safe space and go see them?

((A/n: Hate how they didn't add ChouChou to the live-action or Richie. The idea that some of you might not know that Richie is a lion and you might think he's just some guy is funny though lol.))