#trying to figure out a loophole or a way I can swing this so that everything works out okay and goes exactly how i want it to

[joyridingmp3]

feeling rn

[spacehippieface]

A monstrous tripod, higher than many houses, striding over the young pine trees, and smashing them aside in its career; a walking engine of glittering metal, striding now across the heather; articulate ropes of steel dangling from it, and the clattering tumult of its passage mingling with the riot of the thunder. A flash, and it came out vividly, heeling over one way with two feet in the air, to vanish and reappear almost instantly as it seemed, with the next flash, a hundred yards nearer. Can you imagine a milking stool tilted and bowled violently along the ground? That was the impression those instant flashes gave. But instead of a milking stool imagine it a great body of machinery on a tripod stand. [...]

Seen nearer, the Thing was incredibly strange, for it was no mere insensate machine driving on its way. Machine it was, with a ringing metallic pace, and long, flexible, glittering tentacles (one of which gripped a young pine tree) swinging and rattling about its strange body. It picked its road as it went striding along, and the brazen hood that surmounted it moved to and fro with the inevitable suggestion of a head looking about. Behind the main body was a huge mass of white metal like a gigantic fisherman’s basket, and puffs of green smoke squirted out from the joints of the limbs as the monster swept by me.

Let's talk tripods! Every artist and fiilmmaker has different interpretations of the fighting machines. It's not hard to picture a towering three-legged alien death machine, of course, Wells gives us a good picture of what they look like, but I want to go over a few depictions of them and compare them to his written description, in no particular order, because I think it's interesting, and I think WOTW might actually be a special interest:

Wells drew this one himself. It's a stick figure, of course, but this was how he pictured them. I especially like the little guy going "oo-er!" at the sight of it, almost in polite terror.

The BBC version. To me, this one owes a bit more to Transformers design-wise, and moves like the Cloverfield monster, like the MUTO, like a lot of giant monsters we've seen in recent years, terrestrial or otherwise. But they are still menacing, and they actually make a clear "aloo!" noise when calling to each other. I've got to give them that, even though the BBC screwed up the Martians, the cylinder, they kept going on about Russia, the whole "you can't marry her, you're already married to your cousin" bit. It was a mess.

The Edward Gorey illustrations. O is for Ogilvy, burned like the flag. P's for the Parson, oh, what a drag. Sorry. This is basically a flying saucer with legs. Bit silly,but the tentacles are there, and the legs aren't the stiff kind Wells hated. Which brings us to...

Warwick Goble's illustrations from the original publication of WOTW in Pearson's Magazine. Wells famously hated these so much that when WOTW was published as a book, he wrote a segment into the story ragging on these stiff-legged water tower tripods. I think Goble took the milking stool description too literally, his tripods are always drawn tilted.

The 2005 Spielberg tripod. Great. Massive. Scary. Everything is there. The tentacles, the Heat Ray arm (two even), the suggestion of a head, even the basket. Say what you want about this movie with its excessive amount of Tom Cruise and young Dakota Fanning screaming, but the tripods are fantastic. Damn near perfect even. I think Wells would be very pleased.

The 1953 design. I am very fond of these, they're a great classic sci-fi ship, but they're more akin to the flying machines than the tripods. The filmmakers try to loophole their way out by talking about invisible electrostatic legs (which you can see when the machines initially appear) but I'm pretty sure they went this route because the film was getting more and more expensive and the budget wouldn't extend to stop-motion for the legs. Still, a wonderful creation, the goose neck/cobra head design for the Heat Ray is a good touch and my god, the hissing, ticking noises these things made. Love them.

The Jeff Wayne musical design. My favourite. My beloved. My nightmare fuel. Totally iconic. I'm sure when most people think WOTW, their first thought is the legendary album cover featuring one of these monsters melting the Thunder Child's valiant heart. Doesn't make them book-accurate though. The Heat Ray is built into the chassis, it's all one unit rather than a separate head on a body, the basket was given to the handling machines, and they are stiff-legged in stills. But they're scary in motion, and their howls still give me the jibblies. OH GOD, THOSE HOWLS. Opening Horsell Common And The Heat Ray on the Highlights album with that scream isn't fair!

Henrique Alvim-Corrêa's illustrations for the Belgian publication, and Wells' favourites. The effects of the Heat Ray are chilling, and they're definitely sinister when there's a lot of them just standing there or coldly blasting humans. But I'm just not sold on those googly eyes, they make them goofier. Although when these designs were used for the War of the Worlds 1913 indie game (which I still need to play) the eyes were just blank. Redemption!

[damagedintellect]

Skk Brainrot for Dazai’s BDay

💌 Babysitting the demon prodigy : Chapter 1  💌  

Summary: When Mori summoned Chuuya under the pretense that this would be Double Black's hardest mission yet this was not what he had in mind by a long shot. Walking into Mori's office to see a kid not more than seven years old sporting some poorly wrapped bandages tangled in an unkempt mop of brunette hair, with very familiar soulless eyes, Chuuya thought it was a joke.

Notes: Happy Birthday Dazai~ I didn’t finish my drawing so another have this wip instead, I thought it would be funny if Dazai's ability had a loophole like if he was on the brink of death his ability deactivates or something like that it's no fun when things can only happen to Chuuya. Curse Dazai and his immunity for crack shit.

💌 Word count: 1,425 💌  You Are Here | Next Chapter =>

When Mori summoned Chuuya under the pretense that this would be Double Black's hardest mission yet this was not what he had in mind by a long shot. Walking into Mori's office to see a kid not more than seven years old sporting some poorly wrapped bandages tangled in an unkempt mop of brunette hair, with very familiar soulless eyes, Chuuya thought it was a joke. 

"There are limits to even Dazai's ability I'm afraid," Mori sighed heavily as the aforementioned child was sitting on his desk swinging his legs in front of him with an amused smirk on his lips. "I've always had my suspicions on the extent of "No longer Human" but it appears Dazai does have to have some level of consciousness for the ability to be active." Mori shuffles through papers casually at his desk as if this situation is not sincerely off putting. Dazai's ability was active 100% of the time but it seems someone has found a way around it. The man Chuuya thought was untouchable has been bested by someone that wasn't Chuuya. It sparks a slight irritation that he was not the one to bring the prodigy down a peg. Heaven knows he wants too.

Chuuya frowns, crossing his arms "So why didn't he change back when he woke up? I refuse to believe this isn't some elaborate prank." Knowing Dazai's knack for always getting what he wants he wouldn't put it past him to get Mori on board. Did they just find some kid who resembled Dazai and think, haha funny joke? Chuuya wasn't buying it.

"Fair enough, I suppose Dazai would try this kind of a ruse.  However my guess is that like most ability users, because his mind and body has reverted back to such a young age, his gift hasn't fully developed yet."

 Dazai can't use his ability?

Chuuya's eyes went wide at the notion. If he couldn't activate his ability then he can't revert back to normal. If corruption were to act up anytime soon he'd be screwed. "Do we know who did it?" Looking over at Dazai, he didn't seem to mind at all. Instead he seemed intrigued by the whole ordeal. Watching Chuuya with a glint in his eyes that the redhead can't say he's ever seen before.

"Not yet, we're working on investigating further but as you could imagine Dazai hasn't exactly been the most cooperative in this state. His memories are so so." Mori finally looks up at Chuuya "I called you in here specifically so you can take care of Dazai until we figure out a way to return him to normal."

"HAAAH?!" 

Chuuya's outburst brings another smirk to Dazai's lips as he jumps down from the desk. It was weird to see their height difference remain the same albeit in the reverse. He was still wearing his signature coat but it was pinned to a new length similar to his shirt that he could tell was slightly oversized underneath a navy blue sweater vest. "Why am I the one who has to babysit the bastard?"

Mori laughed "You're his partner, it's only natural that it should be you. If word got around that Dazai is in this vulnerable state we'd need someone who could protect him in dire straits, you are the best martial artist in the port mafia are you not?" Chuuya growled at the circumstances, it was true. Most of the mafia relied heavily on weapons or abilities. Chuuya was lethal with or without. Plus despite their constant bickering they somehow know each other like the back of their hand. Which isn't saying much in Chuuya's case since he's akin to an open book but not many people can interpret Dazai's personal quirks. 

"As a former member of the sheep you also have the most experience with children. It should only take a few days to locate the user a week at most."

Chuuya grit his teeth as Dazai seemed to be circleling him, almost evaluating him as a suitable caretaker. Mori smirked, adding "I thought you'd be overjoyed at the prospect of bearing witness to Dazai being in such a defenseless position. Had it been you, Dazai would undoubtedly use the opportunity to his advantage."

Chuuya adjusted his hat "Sounds about right but you forget I'm not like that shitty Dazai." He turned towards the door taking one step before glaring at his partner with a defeated huff. 

"You better follow me before I change my mind." 

Dazai perked up, waving Mori off before skipping after the redhead. Mori chuckled to himself, it's times like these where he's glad he let these children join the port mafia. There was something about their youthfulness that was a breath of fresh air.

Chuuya was irritated beyond belief. He could  feel a hole burning through the back of his skull with the way Dazai was staring at him. He growled "Stop that."

"Stop what?" Dazai continued skipping down the hall innocently, knowing exactly what's getting on his nerves. "You little- you're staring, it's fucken creepy."

"Swearing? In front of a child? What kind of a partner are you?" Dazai said curiously in a sing-songy tune.

That's it. Chuuya stopped walking, pinching the bridge of his nose. Mori was right, this was a rare opportunity. He snapped his fingers and listened as Dazai yelped in surprise. He turned around to face Dazai hanging upside-down to meet him eye to eye. 

"Listen here you little shit, I was told to take care of you but that just means don't kill you. So you might want to think twice about your stupid little mind games." He has no idea what to expect from kid Dazai. He knows his Dazai is a prick but he doesn't know when Dazai became a manipulative asshole or if he was born like that. If Chuuya is going to survive the week he needs to lay some ground rules.

Dazai looked back with a bored stare. "You're much different from what's in my notes."

"Notes?"

Dazai softly hits Chuuya’s cheek with an unlabeled black book. Chuuya quirks an eyebrow confused but not surprised that even Dazai would have a contingency for something like this but when he opened the book he frowned.

“I must be obsessed with you or something since there are twenty six more volumes where that came from.”

Upon reading the first page entitled “Reasons Why Chuuya Sucks” he could feel his blood begin to boil but he was curious so he skipped to a random page.

“Chuuya put lemon on the karaage without asking, uuuuugh my life sucks.”

He forcefully closed the book. Figures that’s what Dazai would do but to write 26 volumes? This was at least more tame than his “Weekly Chuuya is A Sore Loser” newsletter but still, why would Dazai even waste his time? Chuuya doesn’t think he will ever understand even if the brunette told him. He sighed and reluctantly let the boy down, only letting him fall two feet to the floor with a soft thud. Dazai pats off the dust and adjusts his hair out of his eye. It was only for a few days he could handle this right?

“How much do you actually remember, truthfully? This will only work if you stop playing your shitty games.”

Dazai hummed thinking it over. He didn't feel like he could trust Mori but Chuuya felt different “Not much, I don't remember my time in the mafia. I woke up in Mori’s care and was taken to my office to try to jog my memory. That’s where I found that book. I thought it was just a journal but then your name was plastered all over it.” He resumed his uninterested posture as they continued to walk out of headquarters. "According to Mori I still remember basic knowledge but people, places, and events don't ring a bell." As they walked out of the building aimlessly Dazai put the book back in his coat pocket. "As far as I'm concerned I've only ever been the age I am right now."

Chuuya thought about what they could do to pass the time and he realized he doesn't actually know what Dazai does in his spare time other than find ways to annoy people and try to commit suicide. He's always reading that one suicide book maybe he should take him to a library or something. Chuuya's been meaning to check out a new poem book. Who knows, maybe this could be a really easy relaxing few days.

[ruthlesslistener]

I mean this in the least sociopathic-sounding way possible, but people really need to get reacquainted with the concept of infant mortality and the fact that it is, in fact, natural, and that there is nothing immoral about infant death unless it is enacted upon a healthy child with malicious intent, of which abortion does not qualify.

A fetus is not alive. It is a lump of flesh with half-developed organs and the possibility of becoming a living thing. It is incapable of surviving outside of the womb, and if there is an error in its development that will prevent life after birth, or it will cause harm to the mother, it is normal for miscarriage (ie: spontaneous abortion) to occur. There is nothing immoral or unnatural about this. It's nature. It's not a tragedy. Moreover, it is common. Bearing offspring is a heavy blow to resources that often results in death, so the bodies of many mammals are hardwired to abort in case something goes wrong. There is no 'death' involved, because what was aborted was never alive. Moreover, abortion, like I said, is not at all uncommon in the natural world- if anything, it's intentional. Nature selects for the breeding animal that survives long enough to try again, not for the successor that endangers it. And while humans certainly have the strongest parental instincts out of all the other species on earth, and have managed to figure out all sorts of loopholes to keep our offspring alive, that doesn't change the fact that infant mortality is not just common, its natural. Ask any breeder or livestock caretaker, and they will likely have at least one story about some infant dying despite their best attempts to care for it, because babies are fragile and producing offspring is a gamble. Being human does not exempt us from this, though it certainly does make us intensely irrational about it. We are not exempt from being animals, and to be an animal demands the survival of a fit individual.

Additionally, even if there was some hard confirmation that a fetus was a living being, the life of the parent still takes precedent over the life of the child. This shouldn't even be a debated topic. It's like saying that killing a murderer in self-defense is morally wrong; it's not, and that's not even a long stretch to make, because even with all of the medical equipment known to man, human mortality during childbirth is still a huge problem, even among healthy individuals who have a high chance of surviving. It is an intensely traumatic, painful experience that can cause severe damage to the body and lasts for the good portion of a year. That the fetus does not intend to cause such damage does not negate the fact that pregnancy is an extremely stressful affliction, and that the person who is forced to deal with it must be given the option to escape from it no matter what their circumstances are. Forcing them to carry a child is inherently immoral. Full stop.

And if you want to weave religion into this topic: abortion is legal in Judaism and, while debated in Islam due to there being no laws regarding it in the Quran, is allowed in many Muslim countries that did not have an extremist group instituted into their government by America. Only extremist Christians raise such a spiritual stink over this matter, and it's pretty much unequivocally because their religion demands disrespect of female entities, rejection of scientific analysis, forced breeding to spread their ranks, and the genocide of anyone who does not confirm to their religion. Putting aside the other extreme social issues tied with it, it is religious suppression to force non-Christian individuals no matter how you swing it.

(I also bring this topic up because I've seen people who are livestock caretakers being ruthlessly harassed for having infant deaths under their care despite the lack of negligence + people assign morality to animals for acting naturally, but that's an entire other can of worms altogether)

[concubuck]

((Hey puff what's up with that post about hypno kink?

So here Alastor's being paranoid as hell about hypno play, to the point where he won't even talk about it without a hundred layers of encryption—and yet he expresses a willingness to do it. What's up with that?

So! Between his Radio Demon powers and his various other magic tricks, Alastor is pretty overpowered! When you've got an overpowered character, he needs a few weaknesses here and there. One way to do this is to go "he's got powers in these areas over here but not in those areas over there."

But when you can swing it, what's fun is "he's got this weakness BECAUSE of his powers."

Being the Radio Demon, Alastor is inhumanly sensitive to sounds and broadcasts. Because of that, he's extremely vulnerable to sounds and broadcasts.

This vulnerability can be benign. For example: ASMR, audio files with sounds that are designed to give people a light tingling feeling around their ears and scalp will give him enormous prickly chills over his entire head, up his ears, and down his neck, back and arms.

In some cases it's less benign. For example: hypnosis. It's extremely easy to hypnotize him. It's probably his biggest weak point. He's had to put mountains of safeguards in place to protect himself from someone using this against him—for example, he's got spells on himself to prevent himself from selling his own soul while under hypnotic compulsion. Because that could happen. He's spent over eighty years trying to ensure that nobody finds out just how weak he is to a droning trance-inducing voice, a magic-laced command, or a subliminal message slipped in an audio file.

But, like. On the other hand, being hypnotized feels euphoric to him. If a hypnotist goes "you now feel 100x better" then by God his brain is going to try to figure out what could possibly feel one hundred times more good than what he's currently feeling, and then it'll make that happen. And besides that, in a sexual context, it's FREEING for him. He's COMPLETELY liberated from his own thoughts, wants, feelings, and identity. His entire sex life revolves around temporarily forgetting who he is, burying himself beneath the character he's playing for his partner, and drowning his thoughts beneath his current lust and pleasure. With erotic hypno play, the hypnotist does all that FOR him. He can let go of himself completely—he HAS to let go of himself completely, whether he wants to or not. He likes having that control stripped from him.

So sometimes he risks it.

But he doesn't risk it lightly. He won't allow someone to hypnotize him until they've shaken on a deal to protect himself—usually something like "if you decide to do ANYTHING to me under hypnosis i didn't consent to or if you try to implant ANY effects that will linger with me after the pre-agreed end of our session, the instant you make that decision, ownership of your soul and willpower is immediately forfeit to me," insert 500 additional clauses to close any loopholes. Sometimes he'll even send a contract stating "if you try to hypnotize me without my consent i get ur soul etc" for the hypnotist to sign before Alastor meets with them, to ensure that they won't just try to put him in a trance the second he walks into the room without even waiting to lure him into a sexual situation.

"Hey Puff why have you put so much thought into this?" why do you think? Because I want him to get hypnotized and I'm interested in the possibility of someone wriggling around all his protections to fuck with his mind. But like, they don't have to fuck with his mind. I'm interested in a vanilla consensual hypno session that has no lingering consequences too.))

[ura-writes]

Trampolinist

Summary - You’re a player who jumps from server to server, often revisiting several and always trying to find access to new ones. When a victorious game of duos Skywars on Hypixel wins you an invitation to one of the most famous yet exclusive servers in the community, you find a world you never knew existed, allies you’re not certain you can trust, and enemies that may not be just that. Oh, yeah, and an anarchist piglin hybrid.

(c!technoblade/server jumper!reader)

Basic warnings: minor blood, swearing, light threats

A/N - hello! I decided to start this series as a result of a sporadic idea at midnight after quite an odd dream. Some information you might need:

A few select people can jump servers without using portals, and you (the reader) are one of them.

Some servers are public and some require invites. Hypixel and a lot of the other bigger servers are public, while SMPs such as the Dream SMP are private and require an invite.

Jumpers, as they are commonly referred to throughout the series, still require an invite to private servers, though some have figured out loopholes to this process and actively exploit it, earning the title of “Crashers”. You have figured it out but don’t use the ability.

The rating for this series is 14-15+, most likely including minor to graphic descriptions of blood/injuries, violence, swearing, minor manipulation and death.

There are select groups of people who hate Jumpers and actively try to perma-kill them or get them source-banned from servers, leaving them stuck in single player and isolation.

From the author:

This will be in second person.

There will be no use of Y/N or (Y/N) or anything along those lines. I understand some people use them as a descriptor, but in my opinion, it looks a bit messy/choppy.

Feel free to criticize, though don’t be super harsh.

Also gl free to point out spelling mistakes.

I love love LOVE feedback! Gimme it! Please! /lh /gen

Anyway, those are the basics that you need to know! For now, at least… hehe.

Enjoy the first part!

-ura

——

The familiar particles signalling a personal portal opening in the lobby sends a few people scattering, but most just move to the side, though there are a fair few that stay to watch the person step out of the rip in reality.

The person stumbles out, cursing the deities to high heaven, brushing dirt and sweat and even a bug off of their face, certainly looking a bit worse for wear.

This was certainly not what the audience was expecting. They were expecting a prim, proper or at least somewhat distinguished person to step out of the actively sparking spiral, as most Jumpers are that way, even just a bit.

Nope.

“What are you looking at?”

The people step back a bit, noticing the sword the person clutches in their hand.

That person is you.

“Fuck off, would you? You probably see Jumpers on the daily! Fuckin’ annoying.” you grumble, sheathing the sword at your side. “Fuck… is this Hypixel?”

With a cursory sweep of the attire of the people surrounding you and buildings towering over everyone, you determine that yes, it is, in fact, Hypixel.

Of course, that may have also been the big-ass sign in the sky with the server’s name on it. That too.

With a sigh and a wave of your hand, you pull your inventory up. The typical “please place your personal belongings in a safe place before playing a match, otherwise they may be wiped.” message pops up when you do. You huff, wave your fingers to dismiss the text. Not like you’ve been here a hundred thousand times or anything like that.

The Netherite blade at your side, your armor and any sentimental belongings you have on you go straight into your enderchest, categorized in one of the shulker boxes designated specifically for this purpose.

As you walk along, trying to sort your inventory out (fortunately the server provides a free repair and replace to anyone’s clothing, as yours are beaten pretty much beyond self-help), deciding what match you might want to play, the crowd that was surrounding you quickly scurries off with a few screams.

A quick glance upwards catches your gaze on a red and white nametag.

Huh. Don’t see those often.

Whispers of the name you can’t quite see from where you stand rapidly reach your ears, ringing with slight familiarity.

Dream.

Odd. The masked man doesn’t often come onto public servers, mainly sticking to his own private server, named after him. The Dream SMP. How egotistical.

Without another glance towards the fan-people, you select a game idly. The blue text pops up in front of you, confirming your want to play the match.

Skywars Duos.

Before you know it, you’re whisked off to the arena, a bit dizzy from your landing, but fine nonetheless. The timer for the start slowly counts down, ticking slowly as people pop into existence with increasing frequency.

A presence behind you alerts you to your teammate. You nod at them just as the beeping of the final ten seconds counts down.

After a few repeated sessions, most being losses, you decide on one more match before you head to a tavern for the night, preferably one with a view.

This time you’re the second one to arrive. And for once, you take a longer look at your teammate.

He’s the guy everyone was freaking out about a few hours earlier… what was his name again? Dr-something. Or was it a Tr-something? Ah, who knows. It doesn’t matter as long as he’s good. You don’t bother to look at his nametag; he’s probably just some hotshot who thinks he’s all that.

“Not going to freak out?” he asks you. You snort at the question, shaking your head with a glance at the timer.

“Just here to kick ass.”

“Fair enough,” he replies. “You any good?”

A laugh from you echoes as the beeping of the countdown starts.

“We’ll see.”

The barrier below you drops, sending you hurtling to the floating island below. You quickly hit the ground, rolling into a crouch while your teammate raids the chest beside you, tossing a few bits of armor and a stone axe as well as a golden apple, which you catch and nod gratefully.

The hood on his head drops when another player attempts to take him out of the game. He ducks, barely avoiding the glimmer of the enchanted sword, sweeping her legs out from under her. The enemy player narrowly rolls out of the way with her shield being knocked out of her hands into the dark blue void below the floating island.

She curses loudly as his axe lands beside her head, kicking it to the side.

In that moment, you shove her hard off of the crumbling stone, jabbing your axe in her shoulder for final measure. Her falling figure flashes red with the loss of hearts, and eventually, she disintegrates into dust, the announcement of her tag being eliminated in the chat making you smirk.

“Well, you are good.”

You send him a smirk and collect the spoils of your kill, mostly a few potions and the iron blade, tossing a few of the former to your teammate and splashing a speed potion on yourself.

With practiced movements you begin to build to the middle islands, your teammate throwing the occasional snowball at any approaching enemy players, even knocking one off their bridge. The message of their death rings in the chat, being the fifth elimination.

The chests there contain better loot, even a diamond sword and chestplate, a strength II potion and a Power I bow with fifteen arrows. You take the bow and chestplate (with permission from your teammate, who gladly takes the sword and potion) and book it to the center chests, almost laughing at the amount of snowballs and arrows lying there.

“Well, I’m not complaining,” you muse.

You hear a yell of your tag, quickly spinning around to block the swing of an enchanted axe, their teammate quickly turning to gang up on you after finishing off another person.

Great. You’re fighting two people now.

Swing, duck, dodge, swipe, duck, swipe, block—shit, you got stabbed! Two hearts disappear from your health bar, sending a flurry of curses flying from your lips.

But luckily, your teammate is fast enough to eliminate the weaker of the two.

The tables turn.

The clash of blades, splash of potions and grunts of pain quickly move to the edge of the center island. It’s two verses one now, and the three of you are the last competitors in the match.

Block the swing, return the blow, duck, block, dodge—

A sudden stab in your shoulder alerts you to an arrow stuck in the skin there, slowly depleting your health.

It’s merely a distraction.

The enemy player barrels into you, sending you stumbling backwards right at the edge of crumbling gravel.

Poison becomes your downfall.

The smack of another half heart.

As one last resort, you grip onto the block with one hand, the other dangling with your bow into the void. Gritting your teeth, you do your damndest to drag yourself up, the poison wreaking havoc through your body and strength.

Shit. I’m not going to survive this, am I?

The one-handed grip on your bow tightens, nocked arrow slipping between your dirt-covered fingers.

You make a decision.

Just as the enemy player comes over, smirking but low on health, you let go of the block, drawing your arrow back as you fall into the void.

The broadhead meets its mark just in time, signalling a victory with a dragon appearing underneath you right before you hit the death line. A sigh of relief escapes your lips; you direct the dragon upwards with a rush of gratefulness soaring through your body. Respawning isn’t a pleasant process.

Twenty or so seconds later, you appear back in the lobby with your teammate at your side. The lobby is nearly empty, only a few people milling around, most having traveled elsewhere or checked into a tavern or hotel.

“You’re good. We could use you on our side.”

“ ‘We’?”

Two other figures appear out of seemingly nowhere, one wearing white-rimmed black sunglasses with a blue hoodie, the other a bandana and a white hoodie with flames on the front of it.

Your fingers twitch at your sides, calling up a portal in your mind, ready to dash through it at the slightest hint of a threat. Sparks form by your palms, their signature color drawing the leader’s attention.

“Calm down. I have no interest in killing you.”

“Doesn’t seem like it,” you retort. “Three versus one isn’t exactly fair y’know.” The sparks grow brighter; though they are primarily used to call up portals, they can deal quite a blow to anyone who forcefully comes into contact with them.

Dream (you now read off his nametag, getting sick of referring to him by random aliases) extends a hand in front of his body. Something hovers in it, glowing a soft white and reading something you can’t quite make out.

“It’s not going to kill you.”

Bandanna laughs at that.

“Reassuring,” you snap, taking a closer look at it.

Invitation: Dream SMP

Active?: Yes

Expires: Never

Taken aback, you sputter out a few jumbled sentences before asking why they’d invite you of all people. Sure, you may be okay at Skywars, but that doesn’t warrant an invitation to literally the most exclusive server in the network.

“Uh—what?”

You take a quick glance at the two others, noting their tags are red and white as well, reading Sapnap and Georgenotfound.

“You don’t have to accept.” Dream steps forward to set the glowing orb in your hands. “Just know that we picked you for a very good reason.

How… interesting.

“Is it ‘cause I’m an inactive Crasher?”

The three stiffen at the moniker used for the infamous Jumpers, the ones who figure out ways around the system, the lines of fate that make up the different servers, finding loopholes that not even the best Mender can. They exploit them, gaining almost god-like abilities on the server only to wreak absolute anarchy on the infrastructure until the admin can step in, if they haven’t been eliminated from the system or perma-killed already.

From what little you know about the Dream SMP, you know the admin is a god of sorts, mostly staying out of the way but occasionally fixing matters that need it. Otherwise they stay… wherever gods stay.

“No,” George pipes up. You note his accent, odd and slightly out of place, but not unpleasant. “You being a Jumper does help, however.”

You’ve heard of elusive servers where Jumpers have access to a lot of power and near-unlimited resources, though no one can quite figure out why. Those servers are typically entirely anarchy.

“Yeah, sure.” But you clutch the invitation closer to your person anyway. It glows a bit brighter at the increased contact.

“Think on it.”

Those words echo through your mind throughout the rest of the night, in your bed, subconsciously in your dreams and into the next morning.

It’s no easy decision. You know you’ll be dragged into all sorts of politics, conflict and battles unlike the Skywars ones you usually find yourself dealing with.

Your hand grips the glowing ball a bit tighter, reading the same three statements engraved on it repeatedly until the words are branded into your mind.

And then it disappears.

“Invitation accepted.”

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Realignment

Prompt: I love when Remus is a lot smarter than he lets on, so I’d love a prompt where Logan is overworking himself and not taking care of himself and one tic of the clock away from either passing out or having a full on mental breakdown (not the type you can recover from in a day). Remus notices the little signs Logan shows, and hears the intrusive thoughts Logan has. Remus really becomes concerned when Logan’s intrusive thoughts start to involve taking breaks, going to eat properly rather than inhaling granola bars, and even sleeping. Remus storms in and is like “Logan tf????” Then gets hella soft once he realizes the state Logan is in

Thank you for the prompts, babe! I liked this one the best so I picked it. 

GUYS PLEASE VIEW THIS AS A C H E C K P O I N T if you've been scrolling for a while (and you probably have) pause here! drink water! get food! walk around the room for a little bit! stretch! do something please! you are very important to me and I care about you very deeply!

Read on Ao3

Warnings: discussions of self-harm, nothing explicit, some self-destructive tendencies and behaviors. 

Pairings: focus on intrulogical, background LAMP, DLAMP, DLAMPR, can be platonic or romantic i don’t care

Word Count: 2410

Realignment: to align again.

Realignment: to reorganize or make new groupings of.

* * *

Remus hears a lot of weird shit.

The problem arises when the shit he starts to hear isn't weird at all.

Remus hears a lot of weird shit.

 The more appropriate definition would be ‘fucked up like you wouldn’t fucking believe,’ but one of us has a problem with particularly strong language and shit doesn’t have to be censored in a lot of media anymore. Which is so convenient! For some of us!

 It’s fucking great.

Anyway. Point being. Fucked up shit.

 Intrusive thoughts literally fall under his purview. It’s the fun stuff! The stuff you don’t wanna think about that makes your skin crawl and your eyes pop open at the witching hour and stay awake until the sun rises. That’s Remus’s job.

 And it’s like the whole Mindscape is whack-a-mole that he gets to play with! Buttons here and there, squeeze this part and watch the eyes bug out of this part, bap this one on the head, see which one pokes up next. Who’s gonna have nightmares tonight? Who is having a nightmare tonight?

 It’s fun.

 Point. Right. Right.

 It’s normally pretty easy to tell whose intrusive thoughts are whose. They taste different. Patton’s taste like sugar so sweet it’ll fill your mouth with cavities. Virgil’s taste like spiders, crawling around his mouth. Janus’s taste like salt. So much fucking salt. Dry as hell.

 Roman’s taste like blood. Problem is, Remus’s mouth normally tastes like blood, so…

 Yeah, they gotta work that out.

 Logan’s taste like ink. Which is why it took him so long to figure out that Logan was having them. Not just because the nerdy wolverine was so convinced he couldn’t have them—rationalizing them as philosophy principles, come on—but because Remus isn’t exactly an expert on pens. Writing like normal people. Ugh.

 Normal people.

 What a lie, Janny probably gets a big kick out of those.

 No one is normal and normal is boring.

 Logan. Right.

 Okay, so here’s the thing.

 Logan’s thoughts aren’t really…standard? They are to some extent, you don’t really get a whole lot of variety from him—even when Remus has been so helpful in making his room safe for him to be in during bad days, there’s such a lack of imagination there that he wasn’t sure exactly how to feel—but it’s the recent ones that’ve been getting…weird.

 Remus chews thoughtfully on the kraken tentacle. He swings up to the chandelier and hangs by his ankles, letting the blood run to his head. Makes it easier to think sometimes.

 It hasn’t been very long since they found out…well, since they found out.

 Remus frowns. Why is he censoring himself? It’s not like he can���t fucking say self-harm, it’s not like he can’t describe what it was, it’s not like he can’t close his eyes and see it happening again.

 Then his mind jumps helpfully to the shocked, panicked look on Logan’s face and the soft, furious resignation on Roman’s, and his jaw snaps shut.

 Oh.

 Right.

 He cares. So he has to be gentle with them.

 He growls, swinging himself up to perch on the chandelier proper. He turns the kraken tentacle over and chews on the rubbery side.

 The others are delicate. Not that they’re more breakable than any other metaphysical humanoid, but their minds are fragile when it comes to Remus’s side of things. Could they handle the full spectrum of his side of thoughts and shit? Probably, they’re stronger than they give themselves credit for. Should they have to? Hell to the fuck no. But it means that Remus can’t just throw them in the deep end and see if the kraken spits them out whole or in chunks. Could they survive? Absolutely. Would they still be…them? Doubtful.

 Remus lets one of his legs go, hanging by one knee as he tips over.

 Plus they’re always a little more fragile when it comes to these thoughts anyway. Poking and prodding too much would hurt. Like, the bad kind of hurt.

 They’re not supposed to get hurt. Not like that.

 So. Gentle it is then.

 Right. The others. He has a point, he’s just gotta get there.

 Roman…fuck he’s missed his brother. They got—they got so much shit to still work out but they’re gonna do it together and fuck he loves his brother so goddamn much. Roman knows that, he knows that, and he’s always there to pull Remus out of his head when he needs it, hit him with a pillow, or tackle him onto something and hold him tight. He’s—his thoughts taste like blood and Remus hasn’t bitten anything since so that he’ll never miss it again.

 But with Logan...

 Logan is…odd. It hasn’t been long since they first found out—or rather, they confronted him about it, and Remus hasn’t tasted ink without it disappearing very quickly or knocking on someone’s door to please go get your fucking nerd, please. But the ink has only written the usual suspects, whispering the theorems in dark corners, muttering about the incompleteness of a set, the need for Logic, not Logan, and how to jump through the little loophole again.

 It’s not exactly hard for the others to tell.

 Lolo hasn’t been looking great. Sure, he’s all pressed and dressed, glasses perfectly in place, tie done up just so, walking around like everything’s just totally and completely fine, but it’s in his face. Object impermanence aside, normally when Remus bugs him, he reacts in some way.

 Sass is an emotional response and you won’t convince him otherwise.

 Whether it be a wry comment, effortlessly fixing whatever Remus has done to him this time, or even just a look, Lolo does something.

 Not anymore.

 Now he’ll just kind of…sigh and move on? He’ll fix whatever it is only if it’s directly interfering with what he’s trying to do, or when Patton or Virgil come round the corner and freak the fuck out because you’re bleeding! Then he’ll fix it.

 Remus wouldn’t say he’s bored, but he’s worried.

 Mainly because the intrusive thoughts…aren’t what he’d consider intrusive anymore.

 Take a shower.

 Eat something that isn’t just a granola bar.

 Go to sleep.

 Ask someone for help.

 See?

 If those are Lolo’s intrusive thoughts, then what the fuck is normally going on in his head?

 Remus waits. Waits. Keeps waiting.

 The instant his mouth tastes like ink again, with a question of whether or not Logan should take a break, he sinks straight into his shower. He washes his hair thoroughly, gets every single bit of grime off him he can, and puts on the softest pajamas he has—thank you, Roman—and drops himself outside of Logan’s door.

 He strains, mouth still full of ink, to hear anything other than the soft click, click, click of Logan’s keyboard.

 He can’t.

 Fuck.

 He knocks.

 “One moment, please.”

 Indeed, a few seconds later, the door opens to reveal Logan, looking as annoyingly pristine as he always does, surprised to see him.

 “Remus? Did you need something? Why…” he trails off as he takes in what Remus is wearing. “What’s wrong?”

 “Can I come in?”

 “Of—of course,” Logan stammers, moving aside to let him in, “are you alright?”

 “Should be asking you that, Lolo.”

 “Remus, you’ve just knocked, first of all, on my door and asked to come inside.” Logan adjusts his glasses as he sits at his desk. “This is extremely out of character for you.”

 “Uh-huh.” Remus flops onto the bed. “You know what else is out of character?”

 “Not wearing your costume?”

 “Not hearing intrusive thoughts.”

 Logan’s eyes widen. “Has—is there something wrong? Are you not hearing any? Do I need to get Roman?”

 Remus frowns. “Why’s it so easy for you to do that?”

 “Do what?”

 “Care. Try and take care of me.”

 Logan blinks. “Because you deserve to be taken care of, Remus. Your needs are important.”

 Remus idly toys with a loose thread on one sleeve. “Why?”

 “Why? Why are you important?” Remus nods. “Because you’re—you’re an important part of Thomas, you’re important to us, and we care about you.”

 “So it’s easy for you to care for me because…you do?”

 “As simple as that sounds,” Logan says with all the softness that should be directed at himself, “yes.”

 Remus nods. “I’m not having problems with hearing intrusive thoughts.”

 “You’re—you’re not?” Logan sighs, relaxing a little back into his chair. “Then why did you say you were?”

 “Because the thoughts that I am hearing aren’t really what I’d consider intrusive.”

 Logan frowns. “Like what?”

 Glad you fucking asked.

 “‘Take a shower,’” Remus says, his eyes fixed firmly on Logan’s face, “'eat something,’ ‘take a break,’ ‘go to sleep.’”

 He watches Logan’s face tense.

 “Sound familiar, Lolo?”

 “You—I—my apologies,” Logan manages after a moment, adjusting his tie, “I did not mean to be an inconvenience. You are correct, those are not intrusive thoughts, I’m not sure why you’re hearing them.”

 He turns to his desk and begins to fish around for a notebook.

 “That is quite intriguing, I wonder what the possibilities for hearing other types of thoughts are, considering—“

 “Lolo.”

 Logan pauses, turning back. “Yes?”

 Remus fixes him with a look, getting up and walking toward him. “They are intrusive thoughts, Logan. The issue is that your intrusive thoughts are about you taking care of yourself.”

 Logan freezes.

 “W-well, I’m sure that it’s nothing to be concerned about.”

 “So either you can admit that was a lie or Janny’s about to get summoned.”

 “Remus,” Logan sighs, “it’s fine. As you said, these aren’t what are traditionally considered intrusive thoughts, it’s nothing to be concerned about.”

 “No, Lolo, it is,” Remus argues, “because it means that the thought of you taking care of yourself is so foreign, so fucking out of the ordinary that not only does it happen to cross your mind—“ he takes Logan’s chair and spins it around— “but you try to force it out.”

 Gotcha.

 Logan looks anywhere other than Remus’s face and tries to stand. Only to wobble and crash back down.

 “Easy,” Remus says quietly, resting a hand on his shoulder, “you haven’t eaten in a while.”

 “But I have work.”

 “But you need food.”

 “Remus—“

 “Logan.”

 At Logan’s honest-to-fuck pout, he sighs, dragging the poor nerd up and out the chair and sitting him on the bed.

 “Why do you think you don’t deserve to be taken care of?”

 “I didn’t say that—hey!” Logan blinks up at him, scandalized and covering his stomach. “Why did you poke me?”

 “’S what I do when Janny won’t tell me the truth.”

 “I wasn’t—okay, okay!” Logan covers his stomach protectively as Remus readies another poke. “I just…I’ve already asked for help for this before. I shouldn’t have to again.”

 Remus sighs and lightly flicks the side of his head.

 “Hey!”

 “Virgil tries that too.” He stares hard at Logan. “Come on, Lolo, you can do better.”

 “It’s not your jobs to take care of me.”

 For fuck’s sake…

 Remus reaches out and tugs gently on Logan’s tie.

 “Remus, what—“

 “You taking more books outta Patton’s library now?” Remus tilts his head. “You don’t have to beat around the bush, Lolo, just be honest.”

 “I am being honest!”

 “You’re not lying, but you’re not being honest.” At the poor nerd’s confusion, he sighs and fixes his glasses on that cute nose. “Just talk to me, Lolo.”

 “I—“ Logan sighs and oh fuck why does he look so tired?

 Well, because he hasn’t been sleeping.

 Or eating.

 Or taking care of himself.

 Unbidden, part of his conversation with Roman flashes into his head.

 “Self-harm can be self-denial too.”

 “Lolo?”

 “It’s bad enough that I’ve made you all worry about me,” Logan says finally, “I would hate to be a burden.”

 Oh, Lolo. “You and Roman, huh?”

 Logan looks up warily. “What do you do with Roman?”

 “You know what I do.”

 Logan sighs. “May at least take my glasses off first?”

 “You might wanna change too, I’m not letting you up for a while.”

 Logan stretches to place his glasses on the nightstand and poofs himself into a t-shirt and boxers. He sighs and opens his arms.

 Remus takes two running steps and tackles the poor nerd onto his bed.

 “Ah!”

 “Am I hurting you?”

 “No, no, just—just a little startled.”

 “Mm.” Remus snuggles closer into Logan, his arms wrapped tightly around him. “So. Wanna try one more time?”

 Logan sighs, deflating them both to the bed. His head lolls to his left, eyes on his open computer screen. Remus follows it, barely suppressing a growl as he stretches his arm out to save whatever’s on screen and shut it.

 “I know what I’m supposed to be doing,” Logan whispers, “I understand the process, I am aware that healing is not a linear concept, I know it’s going to take time, I—I understand.”

 Remus looks down, giving him an encouraging squeeze. “But?”

 “It’s hard,” comes the soft confession.

 Oh, Lolo.

 “I know,” he murmurs, leaning down to hug him properly, “I know, Lolo, I know it’s hard. But you can’t try and do it all yourself, you’ve gotta remember that we’re here for you, we care about you.”

 “But why?”

 Remus smiles and cuddles him tighter. “You said it yourself, Lolo. We care because we do.”

 “O-oh.” He feels Logan’s throat work as he swallows. “Thank you, Remus.”

 “Of course, Lolo. I’m guessing that sinking us to the living room so everyone else can spoil you is a bad idea, right?”

 “Yes.” Finally, finally, he feels Logan shyly tighten his grip on him. “Can we just…stay like this?”

 “Do I have your permission to hold you hostage until you fall asleep?”

 “Yes.”

 “Then go to sleep, Lolo,” Remus murmurs, “I’m not going anywhere.”

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[heyitssmiller]

Clandestine: Chapter Fourteen

We’re here. The final chapter. Y’all. I’m gonna cry.

@lumosinlove thanks for these characters!!

@donttouchmycarrots thanks for being my partner in crime during this whole mess of a story <3

And thank you, lovely readers!! For sticking with me for this crazy rollercoaster of a story, for encouraging me when I felt like quitting, and for always being so, so wonderful. I appreciate y’all more than I can say.

CW: prison, food, anxiety

Clandestine Masterlist

.

The drive back was silent, punctuated sharply by the two empty seats in the van. It was something they should’ve seen coming, but yet were completely blindsided by. Sirius had been on their side for so long now, it seemed odd to picture him anywhere else. It was like he’d been there for years already, fitting in seamlessly and making friends fast, filling a gap that hadn’t been obvious before but felt like a chasm now. He belonged in Gryffindor with them. And Regulus, while more reserved and distant than his brother, didn’t seem to deserve the fate he’d found. The main motive that kickstarted this whole mission had been him – all for him – and he still couldn’t avoid being dragged down with the Snakes.

Remus was on the phone with a contact from the FBI – he had been since they’d taken Sirius away – trying his hardest to find any loopholes he could. He was… actually strangely calm. Methodically tackling one idea after the next, his analytic brain working overtime. Logan could understand, though. Being productive was helpful. It was when things settled down and got quiet, when all you could do was sit there and wait…

That was when things got tough.

His leg bounced up and down in anticipation the closer they got to the cabin, his one-track mind stuck on one thing and one thing only – getting a blond safe-cracker into his arms again. Not having Leo with them had been like missing a limb, making everything feel out of balance. And even thought he was safe, he was still too far away. Logan couldn’t stand it.

Finn reached over and placed a hand on Logan’s with a knowing smile. He was ready to be home, too.

Gravel crunching under their tires only fueled the eagerness. There were lights still on in the cabin, a warm, inviting pull. The front door was open before the cars had pulled to a complete stop, revealing Leo and Hope and Lyall. Julian was presumably asleep, given the hour. Logan’s seatbelt was thrown off and the door closest to him was yanked open, Finn hot on his heels.

Leo bounded down the steps of the porch and flung himself at the two of them, finding every inch of space between them and filling it, a soft sound escaping from his lips as he held on tight in a one-armed grip. Logan and Finn both stumbled back a few steps at the impact but quickly returned the embrace, Logan’s face buried in the junction between neck and shoulder and Finn’s forehead pressed against the blond’s. They seemed to take their next breaths in tandem, slow and steady, as they leaned into each other. Time slowed, everything in the periphery faded, and the world, previously off-kilter, evened out in equilibrium.

Finn suddenly realized he felt the coarse, scratchy texture of Leo’s sling pressed up against him and pulled back a little. “Careful, baby.”

That made Leo pull back. “Why?” He glanced over them nervously. “Are you hurt?”

Logan sighed long-sufferingly and cupped Leo’s face in his hands, looking him in the eyes with a fond expression that belied his exasperation. “No, but you are,” he moved his hands to smush Leo’s cheeks, causing Finn to laugh, “so take it easy.”

Leo smiled – a real one this time, not one of the fake ones he’d given them before they left – and relaxed. After a quick kiss from Logan he asked, “So it went well? Mission’s done?”

Logan and Finn both froze at that. Finn looked over to Remus, who was still on the phone (like he had been for the past hour at least) and frowned.

“Not quite.”

“We can talk inside,” Leo said, looking worried again. “there’s lots of food for y’all.”

He wasn’t wrong. Food covered pretty much every open surface of the countertops, ranging from pancakes to grilled cheese to the cinnamon swirl muffins Leo brought to their first briefing all those months ago. Finn smiled at the memories and instantly snagged one on their way to the kitchen table. His eyes landed on Talker, who was explaining something to Hope as she took a look at his leg. Nat, Kasey, and Alex were piled onto one couch, looking tired and each with a grilled cheese sandwich in hand. He could see Remus on the porch every once in a while when he passed by a window as he paced, phone pressed to his ear.

It didn’t bode well.

Logan sat down with a plate of pancakes drenched in syrup and started telling the story, voice a quiet murmur and only interrupted when he shoveled food into his mouth. Finn wondered how none of them had really seen this coming. In hindsight, it made sense that there would need to be a trial – after all, Sirius and his brother weren’t innocent. Finn wasn’t sure what happened next, though. Criminal trials and sentencing weren’t part of the job for them. He hoped they could get the brothers out of this mess, though. If anyone could find a way to do it, it would be Remus.

At least the Snakes were done for. The information on the flash drives was enough to lock them away for a very, very long time.

He took a bite of his muffin, no longer really hungry, and listened to Logan talk.

***

Remus sat down on the porch swing, tired and stressed and not at all ready to quit. He listened to Alice, his only contact in the FBI, rattle off some statistics that he couldn’t even begin to understand. And he wasn’t trying to be rude – that really wasn’t his intent – but he needed to act quickly about this. So he grimaced and cut her off. “Can we get them placed in another prison? Or even in solitary until we can figure something out? If the Snakes can get to them…”

Well. Remus didn’t think they’d show much mercy to the two people mainly responsible for putting them in jail.

Alice sighed, the sound of her rummaging around in her desk filtering through the phone. “We can try. Since they did help you guys, we should be able to swing it. If something jeopardizes their lives, it shouldn’t be too difficult.”

Remus’ heart twisted – a deep, chronic ache under his ribcage that refused to let up. “Do it fast. I’m going to start reaching out to lawyers.”

“Lupin, it’s four in the morning.”

“I know.” He ran a hand through his hair with a frustrated huff. “Thanks for all the help, Alice.”

He hung up, then braced his forearms on his knees, hands gripping his hair, and breathed.

If there was one thing Remus Lupin was good at, it was planning. It was his job, and a big part of the reason he’d switched from field work in the first place. He relied on structure to get through his days, needed the stability in order to function.

There was none of that.

This was being adrift at sea, constantly assaulted by the waves and the current without rescue in sight.

And Remus had no idea what to do.

His phone pinged, catching his attention. A text from Alice flashed across the screen.

I’ve got a friend who’s a lawyer, and she’s a damn good one. I know you’ll want to do your research on her yourself, but I can vouch for her too. Here’s her contact if you want to reach out.

The contact number and email were listed under the name Dorcas Meadowes.

***

Dorcas Meadowes was, to put it simply, awe-inspiring.

Black curls, a dark complexion, and a serious, no-funny-business expression on her face. Her office was neat and organized, a few pictures around the place of her and a blonde girl with a wide grin and freckles. There was a small pride flag on her desk. Without a word, she motioned for Remus to sit, cool and composed and ready to get to work.

That was all it took for Remus to instantly respect her.

“So I’ve heard some of the story from Alice, but I’ll need you to start at the very beginning. Don’t leave out any details, tell me everything.”

Remus did, settling into the chair and getting comfy. It was a long story, after all. When he was done he looked back up at Dorcas, whose face was expressionless except for a single, raised eyebrow.

“That’s…” she trailed off with a low whistle.

“Yeah.”

“Well, the good news is that, if we’ve got enough evidence to back your story up, we can reduce his sentence by a lot, maybe even get him released.”

Remus sagged back into the chair, relief taking over and wiping out the tension radiating through his muscles. “Great.”

He’d known, logically, that they’d be able to reduce his sentence. With all the work he put into taking the Snakes down, there was no way they’d give him a full sentence. But getting him out of there for good…

Remus had never wanted anything so much in his life.

Dorcas leaned forward, powering her laptop on. “We’ll go visit him in the next few days and tell him what’s going on, but first we need a plan. Here’s what I’m thinking…”

***

Sirius hated this.

He was bored, he was tired, and – more than anything – he was lonely.

In Gryffindor, he’d become so accustomed to always having at least someone with him at all times. It was usually Remus, but he’d also grown close to most of the team. And it was nice at the time – god, did he miss it. But it was painful now. He’d witnessed what his life could be like, happy and surrounded by friends and possibly in love, and now he was back to the way his life used to be. Alone and on the wrong side of the law.

He hadn’t seen Reg since they’d been escorted into isolation for their own safety. Which don’t get him wrong – he was grateful for it. Knowing Riddle, they wouldn’t have survived the night if they were all being held together. But it was too quiet now.

The door to his cell rattled and Sirius looked up sharply. A guard was standing there, unlocking his door and opening it.

“Come with me,” the guard said, sounding bored as he opened the door further and held out a pair of handcuffs. Sirius looked at him hesitantly, not moving an inch. The guard rolled his eyes. “You have visitors.”

Sirius perked up at that, the only thought running through his head being Remus. He knew him well enough to know that he wasn’t going to take this sitting down. He’d be fighting to get Sirius free, no doubt about it. He wasn’t sure who else would be visiting him, anyways – if someone was here, it was sure to be Remus.

So Sirius got up and held his wrists out to be cuffed, then watched as the officer pointed down the hall.

“This way.”

It took all the self-control Sirius had to not run, to slowly put one foot in front of the other until he finally reached his destination. The guard moved around him to open the door and then Sirius was moving again.

He spotted caramel curls as soon as the door opened to the visitation room and felt his shoulders sag with relief. “Remus.”

Worried brown eyes followed him as he crossed the room quickly to sit in front of him, separated by a thick wall of glass. The movies weren’t lying, apparently. But it was so good to see him that Sirius didn’t care.

Remus looked tired. Unfortunately, that didn’t surprise Sirius at all. He knew the tendency to overwork all too well at this point. More than anything, it made Sirius want to get out of there, to wrap him up in his arms and let him take a nap there, to make sure he was taking care of himself. He settled for giving him a stern look instead.

“You need to get some sleep.”

Sirius expected a sharp, witty retort. Some sass, a comeback of some kind. Instead, Remus did the unthinkable and just smiled. “I missed you.”

Sirius sighed, softening at the gentle admission. He’d missed Remus too, of course. More than he could really put into words, and it had barely been a day. The smell of his shampoo, the quiet, reassuring presence of him by Sirius’ side, those eyes that just seemed to see right through him and know even the things Sirius tried to keep hidden. He found he didn’t mind it too much - not when it was Remus.

“I missed you,” he echoed in agreement, refusing to look away until someone cleared their throat loudly. Sirius looked over to a woman sitting next to Remus, looking unimpressed. Sirius hadn’t even known she was there, as wrapped up in Remus as he was.

Remus, to Sirius’ endless delight, blushed. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Remus blush before. It was cuter than it had any right to be. “Um, Sirius this is Dorcas. She’ll be representing you in court.”

Right.

He had to go on trial.

Dorcas took over from there. “We think, with the evidence we have, that we can get the charges reduced, maybe dropped if we’re lucky. If you can think of any evidence we don’t know about, we can use that to strengthen your case, too.”

Sirius nodded, relieved. That sounded better than he thought he’d get, to be honest. “What about Reg?” he asked, looking between the two.

Dorcas was very hard to read, Sirius realized. And Remus looked confident… until he looked over at the lawyer. Then his expression flickered.

And Sirius’ heart sank.

“That’s a bit trickier,” Dorcas stated slowly, treading carefully. “The thing is, he never tried to get out. He stayed with the Snakes. And I know it’s not easy to get out of situations like that,” she rushed to continue when she saw the look on Sirius’ face, “but the fact still stands. And he didn’t do as much to help take the Snakes down, not like you did. We can probably reduce his sentence, but he’ll be in prison longer than you. I don’t think we can fix that.”

Sirius felt himself being torn in two different directions. He wanted to be free, to be able to live his life again. Maybe make a home in Gryffindor (or maybe move in permanently with a certain spy), get a job as a consultant. He’d make sure the poor houseplant in Remus’ apartment survived, the poor thing, and he’d keep Remus’ favorite tea stocked in the cupboard. He’d be able to relax for – well, the first time in a very long time.

But his brother.

He was the main reason Sirius got out in the first place. The reason he ended up in Gryffindor, this entire mission was for him. To get him out, to make sure he was safe.

What was the point, if he was stuck in jail while Sirius got to walk free?

He could practically hear his brother telling him how stupid he was being in that dry voice of his, but he pushed the thought away. He’d made up his mind, and it was practically impossible to sway him when that happened.

Sweet, caramel eyes might test him, though.

Sirius looked up at Remus guiltily, dreading the response he was going to get. But yet again, Remus took him by surprise and smiled sadly.

“I understand.”

Those words hit Sirius like a freight train. He sucked in a deep breath, eyes stinging and throat getting tight. “I’m sorry.”

Remus just shook his head. “Don’t be.”

Sirius loved him.

Remus glanced over at a confused Dorcas. “He can’t leave his brother. Whatever sentence Reg gets, Sirius wants to do the same.”

She was silent for a long time, looking back and forth between the two of them. Then she sighed, seeming resolute. “Well then we’d better get those charges as low as we can.”

***

Four Weeks Later

.

Leo found Remus in the courthouse hallway during the trial recess before they were supposed to reconvene for the sentencing, looking seconds away from pacing from one side of the building to the other. The past few weeks had been hard on all of them. Between coming to terms with everything that had happened in the recent months, to trying to figure out the evidence they needed to bring forward to try and get the charges dropped against both Sirius and Regulus, to the strange feeling in the Agency brought forth by Sirius’ absence, it had been weird for all of them. Remus had been hit the hardest by all of it, though – and understandably so. That didn’t make it any easier to watch, though.

He’d been running himself to the bone the past four weeks, going above and beyond to make sure everything was in order for the trial. He looked ready to drop, if Leo was being honest.

But he understood. If it were Logan or Finn in Sirius’ place… well. He’d already figured out just how far he’d go for them.

He put a hand on Remus’ arm, trying to be as calming as possible. “You’re going to be ok,” he said carefully, choosing his words meticulously. He didn’t want to be cold, but he didn’t want to get Remus’ hopes up only for them to be dashed.

Carmel eyes met his own, and Leo sighed at the stress he saw there. He looked tired – so tired.

“What do you need?” Leo asked quietly, hoping for some sort of guidance on how to help him, how to get that look off of his face.

Remus just laughed under his breath, a sad sound. “There’s a lot of things I need.” He shuffled on his feet, gathering his sleeves in his hands. “But a hug would be a good start.”

Not hesitating, Leo gathered him into a hug, the stretch pulling at the scar tissue in his shoulder that was finally free of a sling. Remus was tense and still for a while, then relaxed into it. Leo wished he could do more, wished he could make any sort of difference in this situation. But everything was so far out of their control now; the only thing left to do was wait.

“Whatever happens, we’re here for both of you. You’re not alone in this.”

Remus stepped away with a fake attempt at a smile. “Yeah.”

There was a visual cue that neither of them seemed to catch and people started filtering back into the courtroom, making Remus’ face grow paler and more pinched. Leo stuck by his side as they walked back inside, trying to ignore the soft sound Remus made when he saw Sirius again – all the way in the front, in a jumpsuit that looked too big for him, hair longer and eyes a little duller than they remembered, fidgeting with something in his cuffed hands. Regulus was next to him, head down and avoiding everyone’s eyes. Leo just stuck to Remus’ side as they squeezed into the row of chairs with the rest of the Agency, making sure Remus was right in the middle, surrounded by so many of the people who cared about him most. Finn and Logan sat down next to him with grim smiles.

Leo reached over to tangle his fingers with Finn’s, feeling him squeeze back gently. The bruises were completely gone from his face, and he was walking limp-free now. He dropped his head onto Logan’s shoulder, having to angle his shoulders down to rest somewhat comfortably against the shorter man.

Leo would never get over the height difference.

“I’m taking a nap when we get home. This is so stressful, oh my god.” Finn sighed, making Leo smile.

Home.

That was still somewhat new for the three of them. After a few days back in their separate apartments in Gryffindor, they’d realized how incredibly codependent they’d become during their mission. Leo would find himself staring up at the ceiling most nights, worrying about the other two, until he’d get a phone call from one of them and they’d end up driving to each other and collapsing in bed together, squished together just like those hotel rooms they’d shared. And it had gotten to the point where there wasn’t any point living in different apartments when they ended up together most nights anyways, so Leo and Logan had packed up their things and moved in with Finn. He had the largest bed, anyways.

So yeah. They lived together now. And Leo was ridiculously pleased about it.

They were taking that vacation in a few weeks, too – the one Finn had first brought up in the back of a getaway car, tears in his eyes and blood on his hands. Somewhere warm, just like he’d promised. He’d get to watch Logan tan and Finn turn red like a lobster, only to go straight back to pale. They’d get some time to relax and not stress about work – just themselves and the vast expanse of beach and water in front of them.

Leo couldn’t wait.

“We’ll take that nap together.” Logan answered Finn quietly, turning his head to meet Leo’s eyes as he pressed an affectionate kiss to Finn’s head. Leo smiled at him, the sense of one chapter ending and the next beginning washing over him.

Whatever came their way, they’d be ok. They’d proven that already.

The crowd hushed as the judge sat back down, face impassive.

“We have reviewed the evidence and testaments brought forward in defense of Sirius and Regulus Black.” He started, looking down at the two in question critically as everyone in the courtroom seemed to hold their breath.

“It still doesn’t change the fact that they committed crimes while with the organization,” the judge stated firmly, then continued, “Regulus and Sirius Black are hereby sentenced to one year in prison.”

The gavel slammed.

Remus sat there in quiet disbelief.

They’d done… everything. They’d worked so hard for the past month in attempts to let Sirius and Regulus’ sentences reduced – and that was technically a reduced sentence – but it was still more than any of them had been expecting.

A year.

They hadn’t done enough.

Remus almost missed all the movement around him, too busy staring at the back of the seat directly in his line of vision, but his gaze snapped up when an achingly familiar voice called his name.

Sirius slowed to a stop as he passed Remus on his way out, eyes wide and frantic. Desperate. It broke Remus’ heart, more than it already was. “Wait for me?” He asked intently, like his sole focus was on Remus and his answer. He shoved his open palms out, revealing what he’d been fidgeting with during the entire trial. Remus looked down to find an origami flower, conveying all of Sirius’ hopes for the future within the delicate folds.

Remus wished more than anything that he could reach for him; to pull him in tight, hold him close, and refuse to let the guards take him away. He also had the half-formed plans of a jail break already in mind, even though he knew Sirius would never agree to it. It was then that his eyes locked with the gray ones he’d come to know better than his own and he knew – he knew that he’d wait, however long it took.

Remus loved him.

It wasn’t a grand revelation, it wasn’t sudden. In all honesty Remus had probably felt that way for a long time now, the truth prodding at the back of his head, nagging at his subconscious. He loved Sirius, plain and simple. Simple except for the fact that one of them was going to jail for a year. And yet, no matter how complicated it got, no matter how much time went by, it was the easiest decision Remus had ever made.

Well. If love made people crazy, Remus was certifiably insane.

He smiled a little tearfully at Sirius and nodded fiercely, picking up the paper flower delicately.

 “You know I will.”

[you-cant-spell-subtext-without]

GAH, i am unwell, but -

in my current rewatch of only spn episodes that focus on reapers/death, I have unfortunately Come to a Notion, and I am going to share it with you because once again Nobody Asked.  

Yes, this is about how we Can Still Win, even after 15x20. 

[other than of course reading my post-15x20 WIP, Angels Don’t Fear the Reaper, the first chapter of which can be found on AO3 here]

so this is an extension of the theory that 15x20 is not actually heaven (because of beers and lighting), and my particular addition to the “Dean is not yet in heaven in 15x20″ lore is - 

The Bobby that greets Dean in 15x20 is not Bobby - he is actually Dean’s reaper.

for the love of Chuck I truly cannot watch a single episode of spn like a normal person.  Put your clown nose on, buddies, and come bounce around the padded walls with me - after the cut!

Okay.  First, it’s important to note that SPN has a history of intentionally using lighting/camera work as part of the story, specifically in grounding location for the viewer, for example, to convey when characters are in an alternate universe (Purgatory, Apocalypse World, The Bad Place) or experiencing an alternate/altered reality such as a djinn dream - or, for purposes of this Essay - the limbo in between life and death whilst dying.  

That space is explored a few times in the show, but the first detailed expose occurs in 7x10: Death’s Door with Bobby, as he races through his memories trying to escape his own reaper -

an example of the lighting/blurred camera work from 7x01 can be found here -

[please keep the image of Bobby’s outfit in your mind]

This lighting/blurred camera work appears again in 9x01, when Sam is dying, and is mentally here:

where they have the audacity to make the “part of Sam’s mind that is ready to accept death” appear as Bobby.

Bobby is literally used in the narrative to lead Sam towards Death, convincing Sam to accept dying.  Who usually has that job in SPN?  Reapers.

***and remember, from 2x01: In My Time of Dying, that reapers can change their form as well as a soul’s perception of surroundings -

!DEAN You know, you read the most interesting things. For example, did you know that reapers can alter human perception? I sure didn't. Basically they can make themselves appear however they want. Like, say, uh, a pretty girl. You are much prettier than the last reaper I met.

TESSA/REAPER I was wondering when you would figure it out.

!DEAN

I should have known. That whole "accepting fate" rap of yours is far too laid back for a dead chick. But the mother, and the body, I'm still trying to figure that one out.

TESSA/REAPER It's my sandbox, I can make you see whatever I want.

Compare this to Bobby’s dialogue with Sam in 9x01:

SAM 

I want to fight. I do. But I just feel like...

BOBBY  

Like you got nothing to swing at? Like you're punching at shadows? You got to let go of fightin' and scratchin' and lookin' for loopholes, 'cause that ain't happenin'.

SAM 

So – so, what? I - I - I just die?

BOBBY 

Just die? All the good you've done, all the people you've saved, all the sacrifices you've made? You've saved the world, son. How many people can say that? How many people can say that they have left this godforsaken hunk of dirt that much a better place? What you call dyin' I call leavin' a legacy.

**please hyperfixate on the word legacy for a minute and embed it in your brain for later

***what’s interesting is that this is very out of character for Bobby, and 9x01 actually reminds us of that in a prior scene ->

DEAN

Shut it, Sam. [to BOBBY] You – go. Oh, and, uh, before you throw me under the bus, you're welcome for the hell rescue.

BOBBY 

Hey, first of all, you didn't rescue jack, half-wit. Sam did. Second of all, Sam, you're in a coma. Now, suck as that may, sometimes that's just the way things go.

DEAN  

What are you talking about? There's always a way. You taught us that.

***this dialogue also contains a very specific callback to 8x19: Taxi Driver, where Bobby has this to say to Sam about accepting the finality of things-

BOBBY

Must have been hell on you not being able to get him out all that time. You did try?

SAM

Look, Bobby, Dean and I had an agreement, okay?

BOBBY I know that agreement. I taught you that agreement. That's a non-agreement. I get the feeling a lot must have happened while I was gone.

***keeping all of this in mind, let’s move on to 15x20: Carry On (sorry)-

where we have this lighting/blurred camera work 

and the first person Dean sees in ‘Heaven’ is. . . Bobby

[hmm; that outfit looks familiar]

It also drives me crazy that Bobby is just sitting here, relaxing on a rocking chair 

since this was Bobby’s primary concern before heading to heaven in 8x19 after he was rescued from actual hell -

BOBBY

But if they give me a rocking chair up there, I'm raising hell. 

Consider Also the final scene in 10x17: Inside Man, after Bobby leaves his boring ass Chuck Heaven house to help Sam and Cas break Metatron out - and Bobby tells Sam “it's the happiest I've been in forever” after he assists him and Cas in Chaotic Causing of Problems.

so, yeah - Bobby in a rocking chair as his perfect heaven is kind of. . .again, out of character.

Also I can’t ever discuss 10x17 without including this -

you’re welcome.

Anyway, back to the Derogatory 15x20 - after Dean chats with “Bobby,” it’s time to drive around In The Car.

hmm, remember Sam’s ‘dying mind limbo’ plot in 9x01?  

Also starts In The Car.

incheresting.

The 15x20 drive, however, is spliced with the Sam’s Long Life Montage, and what would convince Dean to accept death more than if his staying dead meant Sam having a long, normal, happy(??) wig life.

[had to.]

also -

*** something something children are a legacy something ***

and look, more blurred camera work.

oh, are they playing catch?

that’s cute.

An interesting irl addition to all of this is that Jarpad is on record claiming that 15x20 is his favorite episode of spn, and his second favorite is - 8x23: Sacrifice.  You know, the one where Sam dies.  The one immediately preceding 9x01.

BONUS:

Potential Reaper Bobby to dying Sam in 9x01 ->

BOBBY 

Everything inside you need to help you on your way. Go on, son. I'll be waiting for you with a couple of cold ones.

cool, cool, cool.

Anyway.  Hope this ruined your day as much as it did mine.  LYLAS

[animedaddymilkers]

Kinkmas 2020: Day 11

Prompt: Overstimulation w/ Tsunade

Genre: Smut/18+ || Tags: Overstim, Oral, Fingering, Strap-on, Soft Dom || Characters: Tsunade Senju, Female Reader || read it on ao3 here

"Lady Hokage- Oh, where is Shizune?" You burst into the office with important papers, only questioning how easy it was to enter after you were in the room.

You were met with an indifferent voice, replying to you behind stacks of papers, "I sent her home. She was overtired. I promised I'd stay here but that doesn't mean I have to do anything."

The blonde snickered deviously at the loophole she apparently found and the papers in your hands became heavier, "Well… Maybe you should do something while you're here… with all due respect, m'lady."

"Perhaps you're right, I should do something. Come here, (Y/N). What do you have there?"

You swallowed hard and walked around to the side of her desk so she could see you, "It's unfortunately a few more reports, m'lady."

The disappointment on her face was obvious as she sighed heavily. She took the papers from you, looking over them briefly, "That's all this stupid job is- just paperwork and more paperwork."

"Have you tried making it into a game of sorts? To make it more interesting!"

"A game. Hmm, I haven't thought about it before," she rubbed her chin, mulling over the new idea before grinning, "How about we make it a game right now? Say, every time I make you cum, I'll completely finish one whole report."

As far as you could tell, she wasn't intoxicated, which was surprising and made her words even that more shocking. The proposition seemed to come from out of the blue, but the more you thought about it the more you realized Tsunade may have just been planning this for a while. From time to time you could swear you saw her gaze lingering on you, but brushed it off as you overreacting. It's not like you weren't also interested, hell Tsunade was easily the most attractive woman in the entire village. If someone said otherwise, they were probably lying. You looked at her for a moment, waiting for her to break out laughing and say it was just a joke. But that never came, instead her expression changed slightly to show she was waiting for an answer. You cleared your throat and took in a deep breath before speaking.

"That sounds like a fun game. What do you get out of it though?"

"Hmm, good point. How about-- If you tap out before 15 then I get to take you on a date... and don’t finish any reports?"

True to her reputation, Tsunade was terrible at gambling. Did she really think her taking you out on a date was a loss for you? Still, you were determined to make it to that mark, if not only for Shizune's sake.

"Deal." The single word from you has Tsunade standing up, walking past you and over to the plush couch decorating the side of her office. She sat down, fixing her outfit before looking at you and patting her thick thighs. Not about to back out now, you obeyed and approached her, swinging a leg around hers to sit yourself on her lap. Her hands slid up your hips to your waist, feeling your sides before slipping down to grip your ass. You let out a content sigh and leaned in to kiss her, her soft lips welcoming yours. She was quick to discard your shirt, tossing it onto the floor before also removing your pants. Patience wasn't exactly one of Tsunade's attributes, but you weren't about to complain. Within no time you were stripped completely bare for her, your body being laid down on the couch.

She leaned back for a moment to truly take in the sight of you, fingertips just ghosting over your skin. You shivered slightly when she brushed over your nipples and she tugged on them to further tease you. But she didn’t linger there for long, as her real mission laid lower, her hands feeling down your pelvis to spread your legs apart. The blonde laughed quietly as she saw how wet you were already, but she didn’t say anything because she knew if her pants were off as well then she’d be equally if not more wet. The first orgasm always took the longest to get to so Tsunade was eager to start your little game, two slender fingers slipping inside of you. Your content sigh was all she needed to start slowly pumping them in and out of you, coaxing more juices from your pussy.

The dull stretch in your core felt good and you began to press your hips down to meet her fingers as they pushed back in. Her pace was leisurely and calculated, pressing into you deeply, trying to find your sweet spot. After you nearly begged her, she slid in a third finger, stretching your walls more. The hand that wasn’t thrusting in and out of you slid up from your thigh to lazily rub at your clit, reveling in the soft gasp you let out. Tsunade kissed along your hip bones, leaving sweet love bruises as she went. You played with your nipples, pulling on them to heighten the pleasure that was building. It was pointless to deny yourself the inevitable and when you felt your first orgasm creep up on you, you embraced it wholly, gripping the sides of the couch as you drenched Tsunade’s face in your juices.

“One down, fourteen more to go, think you can make it?”

“Definitely.” Your optimism might have been a bit premature and maybe you would regret those words after a few more orgasms, but you had sheer willpower and determination on your side.

After briefly checking in with you, Tsunade continued her actions, fingers resuming fucking you and not giving you much time to recover. This was most likely going to take all night as it was, so why drag it out? This time though she decided to up the ante and leaned down, allowing her tongue to kitten lick teasingly at your clit. You were already sensitive from the first orgasm and now with her added tongue, your legs shook slightly. Her fingers curled inside of you, drawing a gasp from your lips that made her smirk. In a moment of boldness, you reached down and tangled your fingers into the Hokage's hair, tugging gently. Tsunade would have laughed and teased you if her mouth wasn't full of your pussy at the moment. She flattened her tongue against your clit before sucking on it as her fingers continued to pump in and out of you.

It didn't take long for Tsunade to find your g-spot and once she did you were at her beck and whim. Your second orgasm crashed on you hard and because Tsunade didn't let up it sent you straight into a third orgasm. Sure, the older blonde did want to take you on a date, but she also wanted to see just how far she could push you. That, and she was convinced there was no way you could possibly last to the fifteenth orgasm. She removed her fingers from you and cleaned her hand off, moaning quietly as she licked your juices up. Then she ducked her head back down, tongue sliding in to replace her fingers. It slowly pushed in and out of you as one of her soft fingers rubbed at your sensitive clit. You spasmed at the touch and winced to yourself, really wondering if you could last. Your body was in a constant tight knot now and thanks to Tsunade's relentless tongue. A whine left your lips as you felt yet another orgasm coming on and your legs once again shook around Tsunade's head.

The Fifth Hokage didn't give you a break until after your eighth orgasm and you couldn't thank her enough. Your legs were in a constant state of shaking and your pussy was so sensitive it was just constantly dripping juices. Now, she was sucking and playing with your tits, mildly curious to see if she could coax an orgasm from you with just your tits. Personally, you didn't think it was possible, you always had needed other stimulation in order to fully go over the edge. But, tonight wasn't exactly an ordinary 'cum and we're finished' type of night. No, Tsunade was purposely testing your limits and just what your body could do. Her mouth sucks on your left nipple while her fingers toy with your right, occasionally leaving to massage your entire boob. Your mounds of fat felt heavenly being massaged, to the point you were almost disappointed when her nimble fingers went back to your nipple. She switched sides, the cool air hitting your saliva covered tit and making you shiver. You laid your head back again, closing your eyes as the waves of pleasure kept shocking through you. With every suck you felt it in your core and much to your surprise, after Tsunade sucked particularly hard and twisted the other nipple, you found your toes curling and gasping as you climaxed.

Her mouth parted from your chest and she wiped her mouth with a smirk before leaving the couch. You lifted your head as much as you could to watch her figure saunter over to her desk. Curious as to what she was doing you lifted yourself up before blushing at the sight of the hot pink glitter strap on. In her hand she twirled a bottle of lube around as she came back to the couch. A cocky look on her face, she secured the fake cock around her waist and lubed it up.

"Ready to go for six more, princess?"

You licked your lips out of instinct and nodded before quickly adding a verbal, "Yes please, m'lady."

Tsunade laughed at your response, you looked so fucked out already yet were so desperate for more. Just her touching the insides of your thighs had them shaking again. In all honesty, she probably could have gone in without lube considering how soaking wet you were. Still, she lubed up her fake cock and slowly slid it inside of you. The pressure of being spread apart nearly had you cumming again but you somehow held on. Well, you held on for two more thrusts at least and then you were babbling incoherent pleas and cuss words. Five more. Kami, you only had five more orgasms to go before you could say you won. Granted, you could potentially go past fifteen if you really wanted to drown Tsunade in reports, but at this point that wasn't looking like a feasible prospect.

Tears were running down your face and your chest was heaving, the wet squelch of your abused pussy filling the Hokage's office. Thankfully most of the workers went home, but part of you knew that some poor ANBU member was being forced to watch you get rawed by the Hokage. Maybe that idea just made it all the more fun, after all it sure wasn't bothering Tsunade. Her hips fucked into you at a teasing pace, enough to keep you on the brink of pleasure but not enough to send you over. She kept it up for far too long before she quickened her pace and snapped her hips, reveling in the scream you gave her as you came yet again. Her fake cock didn't stop, quickly hitting your g-spot over and over and immediately sent you into another orgasm. Your pathetic legs couldn't even keep themselves upright, having to be slung over the blonde's shoulders as she fucked you.

Her nimble fingers came down to flick your tortured clit, laughing as it sent your hips spasming. She rubbed it skillfully, content on staring at the absolute fucked out expression on your face.

"Come on, princess, just three more and you win, you can give me three more can't you? Or are you going to tap out on me?"

Tsunade truly was terrible with gambles, if she had been questioning your will instead of praising you and coaxing more orgasm from you, you probably would have tapped out. But instead, she used that ridiculous pet name in that stupidly hypnotic voice of hers. Your mind was blank and your mouth kept making noises but you're not exactly what noises they were. Your mind and body were so far apart from each other at the moment, but you weren't about to complain. Her cock was still fucking in and amount of you, rubbing against your g-spot roughly as her fingers still played with your clit. Tsunade grinned as you shook harder and came on her cock, pressing her fingers into your clit harder. Her pace didn't let up and even though you clawed at the cover on the couch she kept going. She kept going and fucked you right into another orgasm and wasn't about to stop there.

Your whole body was shaking and tensing up as you gasped and whined loudly. The pleasure didn't die down and you let out a wail as you came for the fifthteenth time, your juices squirting out and covering Tsunade's lower stomach and dripping down her thighs. Your vision was blurry and you vaguely remember Tsunade finally pulling out and cleaning you up. Still you whined and wriggled around, body so used to getting fucked that the absence of it was almost painful. Seeing as now you were just left with a throbbing abused body and no pleasure coming with it. For a moment, you thought Tsunade was going to continue and you were going to have to force yourself to form the words to tap out, but she knew you were done in. Instead, she was pressing soft kisses along your still shaking thighs, trailing them up until she met your mouth.

"Look at you, you did so well, princess. You take a nap and I'll get started on my reports. Okay? And when you wake up I'll get us some food." Although she technically lost, Tsunade could barely count this as a loss. And even though this now meant she had reports to finish, she was content in hoping that this wouldn't be just a one time thing. Perhaps she should turn her work into a game more often.

hope you enjoyed! remember likes & reblogs help me reach more people! :D

[anyoneseenadam]

Home: Chapter Six

azriel x reader (acotar)

summary: (y/n) is a daughter of Persephone, still recovering from the trauma of her fall into Tartarus and doesn’t have time for a stupid, handsome, annoying, stunning, injured man. But now they’re stuck together in the middle of nowhere and there only chance of getting home is if she can heal him, and fast.

warnings: big spoilers for mark of Athena and house of Hades, also for the acotar series, eventual smut, blood, PTSD, graphic descriptions of violence, injuries and torture, enemies to lovers so az is a bit of a dick to start, swearing, THIS PART HAS SMUT YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED but it is very soft 

word count: 3.2k

dress featured: x

a/n: this part was gonna be super fluffy and lovely but of course i cant do that so it’s quite angsty lol sorry. BUt Percabeth make an appearance and we love them so I think that evens it out :) I also apologise if there are any mistakes I wanted to get this out ASAP because I have exams coming up :( pls comment it genuinely makes my day i get so happy when people comment, anyway enjoy!

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Azriel wasn’t entirely sure he would ever get over ‘Captain America: The Winter Soldier’, or any other Marvel movies for that matter, having cried when Bucky was revealed, or when Pietro died making you practically piss yourself with laughter as you muttered something along the lines of “Just wait.”

When the sun began to rise you had turned the laptop off, pulling him in tightly as you pulled the thick duvet over you and proceeded to snore softly with your head pressed over his heart and your other hand reaching out and clutching your favourite soft toy. He thinks he maybe got three hours of sleep, but he laid with you the whole morning, addicted to the heat emitting from you and the way the whole room seemed to be resting as you slept, the breeze swaying the curtains matching that of your gentle breaths and the plants drooping as they too relaxed.

When you did wake, Azriel found his way between your legs, determined to wake you up properly. Your soft cries were like music to his ears, and he made you cum three times before you were pushing his shoulders away, shaking from over-stimulation, and climbing on top of him, sinking down slowly, letting yourself feel every inch. As he sat back, his hands resting on your waist to guide you when you became breathless, holding tightly and occasionally thrusting up into you when the pace became to slow for his taste. You reached a hand to his wings as his thumb found your clit, and you kissed sloppily as you searched for release.

Soon, you fell on top of him as he grunted, hips stalling as you whined into his open mouth. He slowly pulled out and wrapped his arms tightly around your middle, the two of you laying silently simply enjoying the others presence. You soon looked up at him and gave him a breathless smile, pecking his jaw, before swinging your legs over the side of the bed and grabbing a robe of the floor. You made your way to the record player and filled the room with the sound of the Bee Gee’s, Azriel closing his eyes and letting the foreign sounds consume him. You sat down at your vanity and started putting on your jewellery, all the movements practiced, and he cracked open an eye watching you string necklaces with crystals hanging from them around your neck. He laughed as you sang along to the song, flirty eyes catching his as you swayed from side to side.

“More than a woman…” you sang softly as you pulled lacy panties up your legs and rubbed fruity lotion into your legs and hands, waving your hands to dry them before pushing of numerous rings. He sat up in bed, watching you intently as you moved to your wardrobe and pulled out a pretty off-the-shoulder, white dress with frills and faint flowers decorating it. You dropped your robe and pulled on the dress, shaking your hair out and turning to walk over to him. The golden light from the window coated you and you look like you belonged in the Day Court as your skin was cast in the glow, it seemed to weave around you alike a halo and he was struck by how angelic you looked.

“I’m gonna go wash my face,” you said, pressing quick kiss to his lips and giggling sweetly when he tried to chase your mouth for more, pulling away and leaving the room, blowing a kiss in his direction.

He stood, a love-drunk smile on his face as he went about finding his boxers from the night before and pulling them on, grimacing at the tight fit, before he wandered to the drawer you had pulled them from, laughing when he found men’s joggers as well and pulling them on. When he turned to find a top he was instead greeted by a middle-aged man in running gear. He reached for truth-teller, moving into a fighting stance, his shadows swarming around him menacingly and silently begged that you would stay in the bathroom to avoid seeing any blood.

“At ease Azriel, I won’t hurt you.” The strange man said, not actually looking at him and instead typing furiously on his phone.

“How did you get in here?” Azriel asked gruffly, assessing the man to see if he had weapons.

The man waved a hand through the air dismissively, “You are not supposed to be here you know.”

“What do you mean?” He was still uncomfortable at the fact the man knew his name, and now he was insinuating that he knew that Azriel wasn’t from this world.

“Stupid Aphrodite and her hopeless ideals messing up the routes so you could meet (y/n). The fates won’t be happy if you don’t return soon, and even worse Persephone will lose it if she thinks her daughter has been dragged into any messy situations like this, so you boy, are going home, come on.” He beckoned to Azriel, but he didn’t budge.

“Who are you?” He demanded as the man rolled his eyes.

“Hermes, messenger God, now come on I don’t have all day.”

“What did you mean by the fates?”

Hermes sighed deeply, muttering something about a pay raise under his breath before he finally looked up at Azriel. “Some soulmates simply just aren’t meant to meet I’m afraid, why do you think we wrote so many tragedies. If a Greek is born lucky enough to have a soulmate they will likely be from another world, and that means they cannot be together. I know you think she is your mate, but she must stay here, she’s not even immortal it would be cruel. I told Aphrodite to not let you two meet and that it would just end in heart-break, but she didn’t listen, felt bad for the girl or something, but either way you need to leave now.”

Azriel opened his mouth to reply but couldn’t find the words, you really were his, his mate, but now he was being told that he couldn’t be with you. He tried to reply again but before he could you were floating back into the room, smiling widely when you saw Hermes.

“Hermes, long time no see. What calls you to my humble abode?” you asked, moving to Azriel’s side and laughing when he still didn’t put down his dagger, “It’s okay Az, Hermes is actually one of the nicer ones.”

Hermes laughed at the compliment, but sadness shone in his eyes as he looked upon you.

“You look happy,” he said, a regretful look suddenly over-coming his features, yet Azriel couldn’t feel any sympathy for the man that was going to hurt his mate.

“I am.” You said, gazing up at Azriel with soft eyes, and Hermes placed his buzzing phone in his back pocket.

“My child, it’s time for Azriel to leave,” he said softly, your head whipping around to look at him.

“What?” The sharpness of your tone surprised Azriel. He had grown used to your soft side that spoke to flowers and baked homemade bread, but now he was remembering the broken part of you that was part God and build walls up in seconds. He placed a hand on your lower back as the room suddenly shuddered under your power, all plants awakening.

“You two were never meant to meet, Aphrodite just wanted you to meet him after your fall, but she forgot that he would have to return, I’m so sorry.” Your eyes filled with tears as you tried to make sense of what was happening, snarling at the God.

“No but this has nothing to do with the Gods, it- he got here on his own, we met by chance,” You were shaking as you tried to explain, sadness and confusion battling anger, and Azriel thought he could hear his heart break.

“I’m sorry child, I have to take him back. He only got here because of Aphrodite.” You were shaking your head, tears flowing freely now, gripping his arm and Hermes approached.

“NO, no there must be another way, please don’t take him from me! I need him, I love him, please don’t do this!” Hermes, shockingly, also appeared to be close to tears as he rested his hand on Azriel’s shoulder, his body going numb as he was pulled from you, unable to fight back.

“(y/n), baby, I’m sorry, I’ll figure this out okay I promise. I’m not leaving you here.” He didn’t think he would ever feel this much pain again as he watched the woman he loved sob, trying desperately to hold onto him as he was pulled from her world, the image of her collapsing to her knees as he was wrenched from her grip becoming imprinted in his mind.

--

He was gone. He was gone and you were alone again.

The scuffed wooden floor below you was cool as you pressed your forehead against it, sobs racking your body. You pushed yourself up and sat against the wall, checking the time on the clock. 15 minutes. You would cry for 15 minutes and then you would get him back. To many times you have just accepted your fate, but you couldn’t this time, you and Azriel met for a reason there had to be something. You wouldn’t let the anger and fear swallow you again.

When 15 minutes had past you forced your self to stand, wiping your eyes with your hand before searching for tissues. When you had blown your nose, you found an old notebook and grabbed your pen. A list, a list would organise your thoughts, you could find a loophole something had to work. You wrote down every theory you had, every book you would have to look in and every person you had to ask, sniffling, and rubbing the tears from your eyes. When you were done you found the backup burner phone you kept for emergencies and found Annabeth’s number. She picked up on the third ring and you took in a shaking breath.

“I think I need your help.”

--

Hermes left Azriel on the outskirts of Velaris, strangely back in his Illyrian leathers, he had apologised again, true sadness shining in his eyes, but Azriel just growled as feeling returned to his limbs. Hermes looked as if he wanted to say something but decided not to and with that left.

As Azriel shot off the ground he was struck with a sharp pain in his chest, as if being apart from her was physically paining him. He flew over his home, the city he had grown to love but even the feeling of coming home couldn’t distract from the cold that was seeping into his bones. He would destroy the Gods themselves before he let them take you from him and he fought a snarl as he pictured the hell he would make them pay for making you cry.

He landed outside the town house but before he could even open the door the wind was knocked out of him as Cassian barrelled into him in what was either a really rough hug or a tackle, it was hard to tell with Cassian sometimes.

“WHERE THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN IT’S BEEN WEEKS?!” he winced as Cassian yelled right in his ear, shoving him off him as the rest of his family, minus Amren, surrounded him. Feyre was next to hug him and he returned his High Lady’s embrace, when she pulled away he met Rhysand’s eyes, and he saw the sadness in Azriel’s, shocked as Azriel rarely let any emotion show on his face.

“C’mon lets go inside,” Rhys said, outstretching an arm for his wife. Mor, holding Nyx, followed them in and Cassian who was still glaring at Azriel grabbed his arm and tugged him in, grumbling under his breath about how Azriel hadn’t even sent a letter.

When they were all sat, including Amren who apparently just couldn’t be bothered to come greet him as she knew he was coming her way anyway, Feyre asked him what happened. His eyes instinctively found Elain where she sat huddled in the corner of an armchair, and as he took in her spectacular beauty, all he could think of was how no one compared to you. No one compared to your callused hands that had seen many fights and handled many weapons, or your scarred back that only proved how strong you truly were. No amount of beauty could ever compare to you when you had completely stolen his heart, it didn’t help that you were also the most beautiful woman he had ever met.

He paused, a small part of him wanting to keep you a secret as he feared Cassian’s flirting and the prospect of losing the woman he loved again, but as he looked upon where Cassian sat with nothing but worry for his brother in his eyes, Nesta perched next to him, back straight as usual but a hand in his brother’s, he realised he was being ridiculous. He rubbed his temples and took a deep breath, fiddling with his hands as he told his family everything.

--

Percy had forgotten how much he loved (y/n)’s cottage. It always smelt of cinnamon in winter and roses in summer and it usually had the second-best homemade goods her had ever eaten, their only flaw being the lack of blue food colouring. But he didn’t have time to dwell on how he had missed the house too much as Annabeth pulled him through the door and into (y/n)’s kitchen where she sat staring with the blank look on her face that Percy knew meant something had gone horribly wrong. She looked up when they entered and stood, practically falling into Annabeth’s arms, hugging her tightly before Percy tugged her into his own, a hand resting protectively on her head. She had always been like a little sister to him even though she was only a few months younger than him, and consistently beat him in training exercises. The first few months after they escaped Tartarus, he had brought her meals and held her when she sobbed and threw up due to nightmares, helping her through the trauma and trying not to throw up himself when Annabeth applied the ointment Will had given you to her back. When she told him of the fraught relationship she had with her father he decided that she needed someone who would be like family and had practically adopted her after they defeated Kronos, the seven, Nico and Will becoming the loving family she had always wanted.

When she pulled away, he nudged her to sit down as Annabeth started preparing chamomile tea for her in the hopes of relaxing her.

“What happened kiddo?” he asked softly, and she huffed a laugh at the nickname. He smiled when he remembered her reaction when he first said it.

“We’re literally the same age!” She threw her hands up as he laughed at her reaction.

“Doesn’t matter you’re technically younger than me.” He argued as she glared at him playfully before waving her hand, laughing when he was strung upside down by a thick vine encircling his ankle.

“Right that’s just unfair!” he laughed before adding “kiddo,” at the end, flipping her off when she rolled her eyes and let him fall and land in a heap, sitting up and rubbing his elbow.

“Rude.” He muttered but she just laughed, picking up the swords she was training with and moved to continue with her training.

They sat and listened as she explained what had happened, taking small sips of her hot tea as she went. When she finished Percy let out a soft curse.

“So Hermes just took him?” Annabeth asked, her eyebrows furrowed in a way Percy knew meant her mind was going a million miles an hour.

She nodded sadly, “there has to be something I can do right? I was finally making progress; I watched all three Iron Man movies with him.”

“That’s a lot of red,” Percy noted, and she bit her lip, nodding sadly.

“What if I never see him again?” She asked, the way her voice broke hit something inside him as he remembered how much it sucked being separated from Annabeth.

“You will.” Annabeth said with such certainty, Percy expected this faerie boyfriend to appear in the seat next to him. Annabeth lifted her bag and started pilling the books she had brought with her and (y/n) stood and moved around her living room, grabbing ones of her own.

“I figured old myths of my mum might help, y’know forbidden love and all,” she said the joke not quite reaching her eyes, but Annabeth nodded.

“I thought the same, but I also figured maybe something to do with Eurydice and Orpheus given he went to the underworld to get her back when they were separated.”

“Didn’t they both die at the end?” Percy asked and (y/n) laughed sadly.

“Shush,” Annabeth said, passing him a book and highlighter. He groaned.

“Why did I agree to this?” He asked but no one answered, and he looked up to see the two women already reading, determination covering their features, so he instead cracked his neck and picked up his own book.

--

Almost 10 hours later you slammed your book down in frustration, wiping your eyes roughly.

“Nothing, there isn’t one thing here. Either I do something stupid and we both die, or I need to find a way to be allowed to live in his world half the year and this one the other half.” Your shoulders slumped, “And that’s presuming I ever get to see him again, and then! Even then, I have what 70 years with him if I’m lucky. That’s nothing to him, he’s fucking five hundred years old.”

Annabeth looked up sympathetically, one hand woven in Percy’s hair as he slept with his head in her lap.

“I’m sorry, I just don’t think this has ever happened before. We might have to start looking elsewhere.”

“I just miss him. I know it’s not even been a day, but he was my soulmate, Hermes said so, he thinks I didn’t hear, but I did and now my chest actually hurts now that he’s gone. He’s gone and I don’t think he’s coming back.” You didn’t know how you had any tears left but they were flowing down your cheeks, hot against your cold hands as you wiped your face.

“You will, I promise we’ll figure something out, even if we have to go to the Gods themselves.” Annabeth smiled at you.

“WAIT!” Percy jumped up suddenly, surprising you both, given he appeared to be sleeping. “The Gods, (y/n) you never got your reward.”

“What?”

“After the battle and the fall, you were offered a reward, but you said no because you sensed you would need it in the future. This is the future you need it now you can be with him!” Percy was practically running circles around your living room, gesturing widely as his arms flailed but Annabeth had gone wholly still, doing the math in her head.

“He’s right, that could work.” You felt hope rise in your chest as Annabeth spoke, “But you would have to be specific, if we’ve pissed off Zeus he’ll try trick you, he’s kinda like a genie.” You let out a genuine laugh.

“I think I need to visit my mum,” you said, eyes bright with hope.

“But it’s September.” Percy said, and you gave him a pained smile, grimacing as you realised where you were going.

“I think Nico and I are overdue for a family dinner.”

[five-rivers]

Glowsticks

Sneaking in before midnight on Halloween~

This is another continuation of Exhumed.

.

.

.

McGee had talked to several people about the strangely popular gravestone.  What he had learned made him feel sick.  Literally. He wanted to throw up.  First, the person buried there was the kid that had been found in the park.  Second, the locals had made him into a cult figure practically overnight.  

Or, at least, a tourist trap figure.  These people had no shame.  

On the other hand… Didn’t they say that Daily person was in charge of cults?  Did Amity Park have a cult problem on top of everything else that was going on?  Was the cult the problem, the root problem?  If there even was an actual cult…

Cults were dangerous and took vicious advantage of legal loopholes.  Maybe he should call the FBI.  They were the ones that were supposed to deal with cults.  

He took a deep breath, pulling himself together. No.  This was his case.  His job. He didn’t know that there was a cult involved, not yet.  Besides, it didn’t matter if they were religious so long as they were breaking the law.  Yeah.  

“Are you okay?”

McGee almost jumped out of his skin, his hand twitching towards his firearm before he realized that the person who snuck up on him was a kid.  The kid from earlier, to be precise.

The boy’s eyes narrowed.  “Were you about to pull a gun on me?” he asked.  

“No,” said McGee.  

The boy blinked, suspicion still evident on his face. “You’ve got to be more careful with guns,” he said.  “There’s no reason to go for one just because someone surprised you.”

McGee didn’t grace that with a response.  “What are you doing here, anyway?  Weren’t you across town, earlier?”

“Yeah.  So were you,” said the boy.  Danny. His name was Danny Fenton.  “Why are you here?”

“I asked first.”

“You shouldn’t ask questions you aren’t willing to answer yourself.”

What the hell was up with this kid?  “I’m just trying to get a better feel for the town.”

“Hm,” said Danny.  “I help out here at the cemetery, sometimes.  Got to lay all those ghosts to rest, you know?”

“Don’t you think that’s a little much?” snapped McGee. “Death isn’t supposed to be a roadside attraction.”

“Oh, don’t worry.  We take death very seriously around here,” assured Danny.  “But seriously.  I do help out.  The caretaker lets me take that stuff away when it gets to be too much.”  He nodded at the blank headstone and all the offerings around it.  “Mom likes the flowers.  Jazz is making a collage of some of the cards.  You know.  Stuff like that.”  He shrugged, angling himself away from McGee.  “Someone left a tiny copy of the Tempest once.  In one of those teeny tiny books.  Post.  It had that one passage from Ariel’s Song decorated.  It was nice.  I liked it.”

“What?”

“Ariel’s Song.  Full fathom five thy father lies;/Of his bones are coral made;/Those are pearls that were his eyes;/Nothing of him that doth fade,/But doth suffer a sea-change/Into something rich and strange. Shakespeare.  I think it’s supposed to be a commentary on ghosts, but the guy in the play isn’t actually dead, people just think he is.  So, I’m not really sure how to take it.  You’re a detective, right?  What do you think?”

McGee stared at the teenager. The kid who was buried there was his age.  “This isn’t a joke,” said McGee.  “A person is dead.”

Danny tilted his head. “I’m not joking?”

“How are you even connected to all of this?”  McGee waved his hand, frustrated.  

“I just told you how I’m connected to the cemetery.  If you mean the town…  Well, I do live here.”

“Why do Patterson and Collins know you?”

“I know everyone,” said Danny.  He started backing away.  “You should go get something to eat soon, if you don’t want to be late.”  He turned and disappeared in the crowd.  

What the hell.

.

McGee did not go to get food. He went back to the station.  He had some questions to ask Cameron Daily, and he got the impression that the man was the kind of person to practically live at work.  

When he opened the door, though, he had to stop.

“What is this?” he asked, loudly.  

“Glowsticks,” said one of the secretaries.  “You have seen them before, right?”

“Yes, but why?”

As much as the police department had been infested with Christmas decorations before, it was now covered with glowsticks of all varieties.  

The secretary shrugged. “You’ll find out.  And, no, this isn’t hazing.”  She broke a new glowstick with a snap.

“Right,” said McGee.  “Where’s Daily?”

“Cameron Daily is in the computer bay,” said the secretary, pointing.

“Thanks,” grunted McGee, once again wondering why there was a separate computer bay when everyone had their own desks, computers, and, in some cases, additional laptops.  

Screw it, he might as well ask.  

“Hey, Daily.”

“Mm?”

“Why’s there a separate computer bay?”

“Oh, it’s shielded,” said Daily.  

“Shielded.”

“Yep.  No signals, and the Fentons did some pretty neat stuff to the walls.  Bunch of, ehm, nasty hackers.  We learned our lesson, eventually.”

“The Fentons.”

“Yeah.  And Foley did the firewalls.”

“They’re the ones who did the computer filing system.”

“Uhuh.  Kids are geniuses.  The parents aren’t too shoddy, either.”

“The—” No.  There was no way.  “Are they the same Fentons that hunt ghosts?”

“Yeah.  You wouldn’t think it to look at them, but apparently they live off of their patents.  Made a bunch of fiddly little things that every other mass production factory in the country uses.  Also, they own a toilet paper company.  Not my favorite brand, but it isn’t the worst, honestly.  Kind of wish we’d buy it here, but, no, we get that gross single ply. I swear, that stuff should be classified as a crime against humanity.”

“You let the ghost hunters deal with your computer security.”

“Oh, I know that tone. You met them, huh?”

“Just the kid.”

Daily looked up at McGee over the computer.  “What?”

“I only met the kid. Danny.”

Slowly, Daily uncurled from his hunch in front of the computer.  The man was taller than McGee thought.

“Then what’s your issue? Danny’s a good kid.”

A good kid whose parents were allowed to run roughshod over the town, who was allowed to steal from graveyards, and knew all of the police officers.  For some reason.  

“I heard you’re in charge of monitoring the cult?”

Daily snorted.  “You make it sound like there’s just one.”

“Excuse me?”

“Well, after all the ghosts, most religions had to modernize, you know?”

Oh, god, this was part of the tourist trap.  Or the tourist trap was part of this.  Did they recruit from people who actually believed this nonsense?

“There’s more than one cult?”

“Yep.”

“Sounds like quite a job.”

“Eh.  I’m mostly just keeping track of their online activity.”

“So, how are the Fentons involved?”

“They aren’t.  They’re pretty areligious, overall.  Danny’s been almost kidnapped a few times, though.”

“What?”

“What?”

“Kidnapped.  By a cult.”

“Cults.  Gotta remember the plural, man.  Cults.”  Daily was hunching again.  “But, hey, if you’re interested in the subject, I can give you a thorough run-through of this new group that started up last week.  Their philosophy is wild.  I can’t even tell you—”

“Hey.  You’re early,” said Patterson, leaning through the door, her braid swinging.  “Great. Have you eaten?”

“Yes,” lied McGee.  

“Get better at lying,” said Patterson.  “Come on, let’s go.”

.

Patterson and Collins weren’t the only ones there.  In fact, there were more people in the station than there had been that morning. All with glowsticks.  Said glowsticks were being loaded into unmarked cars while office staff and police officers whispered back and forth.

“Did you get the green stuff?”

“Yeah, don’t worry. Gave me more than enough.” Glowing green milk jugs were loaded into a car.  The car McGee would be riding in with Collins and Patterson.

‘Green stuff.’  Was this some kind of bizarre drug smuggling ring? McGee had fallen behind in drug slang, if so.  ‘Green stuff.’  Were they lacing it with glowstick fluid?

Never before had he felt so lost on a case.  Amity Park was messed up.  

“You’ve got the howlers hooked up?” asked Collins.

“I asked Daily to do it this morning.”

“But did he do it?”

“I mean, it looks like it. Are the howlers really that important?”

McGee had no idea what was going on.  

The cars all started off in a group.  Their car was the last to leave and soon peeled off to trundle slowly down back roads.  

“You probably have questions,” said Collins.

“You could say that,” said McGee.  

“You’ve been a good sport about them,” observed Collins.  

“So,” said McGee, drawing out the word.  “What is this about?”

Patterson swallowed a laugh. “Ever hear of the Men in Black?”

“Look, I’m humoring the ghosts.  Conspiracy theories are where I draw the line.”

“Keep telling yourself that. Maybe it’ll stick.  Anyway, here in Amity Park, we deal with their less intelligent cousins.  The Guys in White!”

“That’s not their actual name,” said Collins, glancing back over his shoulder.  “But, well, their appearance fits.”

“Alright, let’s say I believe you.  What does this have to do with the jugs of glowstick fluid in the trunk?”

“Oh, that’s not glowstick fluid,” said Patterson.  “It’s waste from the reactor that powers the town.”

“Don’t worry,” said Collins, hastily, the car swerving somewhat.  “It’s completely harmless!  Not radioactive at all!”

“That’s not what—” started Patterson.  

“You absolutely will not get cancer from it!”

McGee raised a hand.  “You have nuclear reactor fluid in the trunk?”

“It isn’t nuclear reaction fluid,” protested Patterson.  “It’s—"

“Back on track,” interrupted Collins.  

“Yeah.  Anyway.  It’ll trip the Guys in White’s sensors—”

“Eventually,” Collins grumbled.  

“—so we can lead them on a chase.”

“And…  why do we want to do this?”

“Because it’s a quiet month,” said Patterson.  “Don’t want the Guys to get antsy.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means what it means. You’ll see in January.”

McGee looked between his two ‘partners.’  “Are you trying to get me to quit?”

“Because you’re a spy for the county?” asked Patterson.  “Oh, no, never.”

Before McGee could process that statement, the car’s radio crackled to life.  

“We’ve got a class-3 northbound on Orion at 35 miles per hour.  Ectosignature suggests an amorphiform ghost—”

“Hah!” shouted Patterson. “That’s us!  Punch it!”  She twisted the dial on the radio as Collins slammed his foot into the accelerator.  “Bogey to Redrum!  We’ve got followers!”

“Copy, Bogey, this is Redrum. We need a few more minutes to set up. Can you stay out of sight?”

“The hell?”

The radio crackled.  “Forgot you had the new guy!  Don’t shake him up too much, okay?  Over.”

“Copy.  Collins you catch that?”

“Yeah, don’t worry, I’m taking Pan and Laurel.  The holiday tour.”

“Ooh, good choice.” Patterson held up the radio again. “Yeah, we can manage.  Over.”

Collins went faster. For the next several minutes McGee occupied himself with not throwing up.  He succeeded.  Barely.

“Bogey, this Cam,” said the voice of Daily, “followers are gaining.  They’re on Brassica, just passing High Street.  Triggered the speed cameras.  Over.”

“How many and what type? Over.”

“Three gliders.  Don’t think they’ve spotted you yet, though. Over.”

Gliders?  Who did these people think they were kidding?

“Copy, over,” said Patterson. “Not like those guys care about speeders, though,” she muttered.  McGee could barely hear her over the beating of his own heart.

“Sharp right, brace yourselves,” said Collins, split seconds before matching action to words.

“Redrum to bogey, we’re moving out now, over.”

“Copy.  We’re on our way.  Over.  Head to the park, Collins.”

“Gotcha.”

It didn’t seem possible, but Collins somehow pushed the car to go even faster.  Then, just as quickly as the whole ridiculous thing had begun, the car skidded to a halt in a parking lot.  Seeing his chance, McGee clawed at the door handle and dragged himself out onto the pavement.  

Collins and Patterson, meanwhile, were pulling the almost-certainly-toxic waste out of the trunk and launching it into the glowstick-filled woods with—

“Is that a bazooka?” demanded McGee, so far past his wit’s end that he couldn’t even see it anymore.

“Nah, just a modified T-shirt canon,” said Patterson, stowing the object away again.  “Fentonworks special.”

“I don’t believe you,” said McGee.  

Three – Three things – McGee did not want to call them gliders – raced overhead, jets roaring and wind whistling.  They came to a stop approximately where the ‘reactor waste’ had fallen.  

“What the hell?” whispered McGee, passionately.  

“Come on,” said Collins.  “Time for us to go.”

“Yeah, better to spectate from afar,” agreed Patterson.

“I agree,” said a third voice.

“Oh, Danny,” said Patterson.  “Didn’t expect to see you here tonight.”

The boy walked into McGee’s field of view and glanced down at him before shrugging.  “Couldn’t sleep.”  He looked up, at the park.  “Thanks for this.”

“Had to get them to blow this month’s budget somehow,” said Collins.  “But, really, we should all go before the fireworks start.”

Danny sighed.  “Hope they don’t blow up the fountain again.  It just got fixed.”

“Same,” said Patterson.

“Well, see you later.”

“Yep, we’ve got that wellness check tomorrow,” said Collins. “You don’t have any excuse to forget, this time.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said the teen, waving over his shoulder as he walked straight into the dark.

“What,” said McGee.  

“That’s just Danny for you,” said Collins.  “Great kid.  Super creepy.”

“Yeah.”

“How’d he even know we’re here?” asked McGee, trying to keep his voice even.  

“He did give us that eeeeehhhhhhh—reactor waste,” said Patterson.  “Come on, get up, we’ve got to—”

A small explosion sounded from the park.  

“Seriously.  I don’t want to have to pick you up.”

“I’d wind up doing most of the lifting,” grumbled Collins, who was sliding into the driver’s seat.

Patterson put her hands on her hips.  “Excuse you?”

There was another, larger explosion.  McGee climbed back into the car.

As they drove, he realized that no one had made fun of his name. Not even once.  

Amity Park was weird.  

[aerialflight]

Fic Rec (where i'm into too many fandoms rn and ships which is weird of me)

[Bleach] (been a while amiright?)

Oxytocin by Asuka Kureru (Askerian)

Ship: Grimmjow/Ichigo/Orihime

Complete trust and physical affection are great!

They're a bit less great when they were caused by weird hollow drugs.

They're even less great when the guy who was drugged up into loving the hell out of you is the same guy who tried to murder you a couple times a couple years ago.

(listen i just stumbled upon this and I have no regrets. i don't usually go for ships, let alone poly, but like, GOD, i love how everyone is characterized here, especially orihime and i just want to SCREAM OK? OK. the vibe i get from this fic reminds me of @murderlight (big fan) and if that doesn't say anything, i don't know what will.)

-

[Gintama] (i don't know how i spiralled into this fandom either, been literal years since i've even thought about this fandom, i have no regrets)

Grab Your Dreams With Your Fists While You Can Still Remember It by yatagarasu (leelhiette)

Ship: Hijikata Toshirou/Sakata Gintoki

Toshirou should learn to look both ways before crossing the road.

(Or he learns more about the people around him and about himself.)

(amnesia fic, and i know it's a common trope but they did it BEAUTIFULLY here. love this so much. and it's post-canon.)

I feel you by arashian155 for machinecuisine

Ship: Hijikata Toshirou/Sakata Gintoki

“I’m so done with this,” Gintoki muttered angrily. Zura sighed while Tatsuma laughed loudly. “Your soulmate’s getting roughed up again?” Gintoki groaned. “Worst timing ever! There was this one Amanto swinging his gigantic sword at me and I was just about to dodge it when, out of fucking nowhere, I feel something stabbing my shoulder! It threw me off and if it weren’t for that, I would have been perfectly healthy right now instead of getting nursed for this stupid wound!” he pointed at the ugly slash across his torso. “Fuck soulmates!”

A story about Sakata Gintoki's journey into embracing his soulbond, falling in love, and learning the cons of selflessness.

(THE SLOW BUILD-UP OF THEIR RELATIONSHIP AND THE PLOT FOLLOWS CANON AND I CAN'T STOP TALKING ABOUT THIS STUPID FIC I'M SO STUPID FOR THIS STUPID SHIP FEIWNFOPA)

-

[One Piece] (of course)

Undone by pkmntrainer_alex

After the entire family almost dies at WCI, Judge Vinsmoke orders the removal of his sons' emotional modifications in a bid to save his own skin in future endeavors. He doesn't stop to consider the ramifications of his 21-year-old sons finally, suddenly, being able to feel their human emotions in full - and their newfound ability to judge both themselves and him by their past actions.

(the vinsmoke family dynamics and the brothers trying to deal with 21 years of pent up emotions? they're trying?? so freaking hard to be functional people and they realize just how freaking amazing sanji is and that HE wasn't the failure in this family??? god, i've reread this fic so many times like an addict please read and suffer the feels with me. this is the one fic where i'm trying to patiently wait for an update. i'm just happy that this exists.)

Song of the Swords by authenticaussie

Wado is tiny when she first appears before him; her tears are as silver as her hair and the moonlight, and they gleam from within with golden fire as they pour down her cheeks.

Zoro’s heart fairly stops in his chest for a very, very long moment.

(personified swords au! introspective and fascinating and a character study of zoro and his relationship with his swords! really liked this!)

where the rims have ridges by Civillain

Everything everyone does is in their own self-interest.

"I like your hat," she calls out quietly.

And the change is instantaneous. He stops where he stands, a hand on his head and his knees still bent to take another step, and turns to look over his shoulder.

There's a moment of silence where he says nothing, just peering at her with squinted eyes, before: "Thanks!" he beams.

His smile is wide and unchecked, so wide that it might make his cheeks ache. He doesn't have laugh lines, but the way he smiles makes her imagine that he's spent his whole life grinning like that, warmly and brightly, so sincere and upfront that the breath gets punched right out her lungs.

Sometimes, there are people close to exceptions. But not quite.

20 years apart, and two people that don't make any sense.

(god, such a good outside pov look on luffy! luffy is such an unreadable character lots of times and it's so hard to pin down his characterization but this fic got it so right! made me fall for luffy all over again and realize just how incredible he is, as both a not-hero figure and main character! definitely recommend!)

those things beyond us by Civillain

There's something different about Luffy on nights like this, nights where there's soft rain and half-moons, and when the streets are quiet; no cars or trucks, only midnight joggers or early risers taking walks to the beach.

(Where Luffy and his friends have a relationship Sabo doesn't think he'll ever be able to understand.)

(honestly, i just love all of this author's one piece works. its a modern au where the straw hats are reincarnated and find each other all in sabo's pov. it's beautiful and this is how i would picture how the straw hats would fit in a modern au. nakamaship is the best ship, no questions needed. so so good!)

Magic Paint by 8ball

Luffy sticks his hands out.

“Paint mine!”

Usopp watches the expressions on Sanji’s face. He likes watching the obvious emotions go through him like a slideshow, and it's somehow comforting that he can see the exact moment Sanji decides that going along with Luffy will be the easiest choice. So Usopp waits for Sanji to test his own nails, deem them dry enough, unscrew the tiny brush top again, and then he asks if Sanji will do his, too. And because Sanji already has the brush ready, and they’re both right there anyways, Usopp knows he’s going to get what he wants.

or the au that came from nowhere where Sanji paints his nails and everyone elses and thats really it

(*screams* the pureness, the fluff, the nakamaship!! fneiwoapfe!! the best, sweetest headcanon ever! had the biggest grin on my face the whole time i was reading this! please please read!!!)

-

[Percy Jackson & the Olympians]

Stealing Shells by the Seashore by CaffeinatedFlumadiddle

Ship: Sally Jackson/Posiedon

Sally's eyes flicked between Poseidon and then the sea below. He could feel the understanding click.

"Oh, absolutely not-"

"It isn't that high!"

"Poseidon, I am not jumping off of this cliff! I'm not doing it. I won't, you can't make me, it's very high, I am not going to-"

"If my brother sees you here, he's going to assume that you're carrying my child."

"Ridiculous. I have much higher standards."

"I also have higher standards, but he isn't going to listen to us," Poseidon reasoned. The wind blew a bit harder, and Poseidon felt the sea rise with his anxiety. "I would use my powers to hide you, but he'll sense I've used them. You'll be fine," he tried, and Sally gave something of a skeptical laugh.

"Not happening."

The lightning grew closer. For the love of-

"In that case… I'm sorry," he said. Sally tilted her head suspiciously.

"Why are you-" she began but was cut off by Poseidon shoving her off the cliff's edge. He could hear a scream. It started loud and high before getting smaller and smaller. Finally, a splash followed.

Or

Sally and Poseidon spent one summer together… and most of it was them being on the run for a godly crime they didn't commit.

(THIS is the ONLY backstory i will ever accept regarding this ship for the REST OF MY LIFE. i binged this so freaking fast and i am in love with sally as much as posiedon is. percy jackson got his Everything from his mom you can't change my fucking mind. THIS FIC NEEDS MORE ATTENTION AND KUDOS! READ!!!)

Son of Sea Foam by CaffeinatedFlumadiddle

“She’ll never claim me,” he whispered. Silena shook her head, eyes wild as she looked around for anyone who could be watching.

“My mother doesn’t remember half of her children as it is,” she said with a note of bitterness. “If you do something to impress her, it won’t matter. Return the bolt in her name. She’ll claim you if you act the part. If you stay unclaimed then they'll figure out what you really are," she said, squeezing his hands tightly. Percy's heart sped up.

"I - I don't know the first thing about Aphrodite-"

"My mother was born of sea foam," Silena cut him off. "And if you're really who I think you are... you are the sea. You can pull this off," she said and touched his cheek. "Get the bolt. Survive," she said. Percy swallowed.

"What if I can't act the part?" He asked. Silena's expression went blank for a moment. Slowly, she slipped off her bracelet and placed it in his hands.

"If you're going to be one of us... you better learn."

Or

AU where Percy has to hide the fact he's a Big Three kid otherwise he'll be killed on the spot. Unfortunately for him, unclaimed kids tend to raise the most suspicion... but he might have found a loophole in the form Aphrodite.

(one of my current obsessions rn. my eyes are constantly glued on the screen because i want to devour more of this galaxy brained fic. this author just keeps on giving and i love them for it. also, SILENA IS AMAZING AND SHE'S GETTING THE ATTENTION SHE DESERVES HELL YEAH!)

-

[Haikyuu!!]

He Waits For a Miracle by ich_bin_ein_stern

Ship: Hinata/Kageyama

A minute ago, he was on the ground after he and the others were tackled by their happily weeping senpai.

They had just beat Shiratorizawa.

And now - "Kageyama-kun? Are you paying attention?" - he's trying not to freak out because he's surrounded by distantly familiar faces while wearing a school uniform he hasn't worn in almost a year.

(TIME TRAVEL TIME TRAVEL TIME TRAVEL *screams*)

-

[The Witcher] (seriously, all my rare fandoms somehow popped up this month)

the way fire holds by theundiagnosable

Ship: Geralt/Yennefer/Jaskier

“There’s a song there, somewhere, don’t you think?” Jaskier says. “‘A witcher, a sorcerer, and a human walk into a bar’…”

(ROLE REVERSAL FIC HECK YES!! Witcher!Yennefer, Mage!Jaskier, Human!Geralt is amazing omg. It all works out so damn well and the relationship between yennefer and jaskier makes me want to cry so much. Geralt is at peak himbo greatness and it's fantastic haha! Their dynamics are just *chefs kiss* so damn good.)

The Shape of You by lirulin

Ship: Geralt/Jaskier

Some people say it's old elven magic, a remnant from before the conjunction of the spheres. Other's will say it's the last fading vestiges of chaos as the modern era slowly drives all magic and wonder out of the world. Those people are, naturally, real killjoys whom Jaskier cannot envision loving anything, but that's fine. To each their own.

Soulmate Spiritual Animal AU

(you have no idea how much i laughed when reading this fic. no idea. jaskier makes me want to scream with how much of a himbo he is and geralt, for once, is not the complete idiot between these two though it's a close call, not gonna lie.)

to grow in adversity by Soulykins

Ship: Geralt/Jaskier, Renfri & Jaskier

“For you!” Julian cried, shoving a fistful of weeds in Renfri’s direction, his smile wide and carefree. Renfri carefully took them in her hands that were only shaking a little bit now, smearing red onto green stems and yellow petals.

Julian clambered into the bed beside her and crawled halfway onto her lap. “I got you flowers, ‘cause you’re so pretty like them!”

“These aren’t flowers, they’re weeds.” Renfri told him, rolling her eyes but allowing the contact with ease. Somedays it seemed like Julian was the only person in the entire castle who wasn’t afraid of her.

“They look like flowers.” He said, crinkling his nose.

“They’re dandelions,” Renfri informed her brother with a tiny smile, “They grow everywhere, even places they perhaps shouldn’t. That’s why they’re a weed.”

“Perhaps they’re a little like you,” She teased, “Growing in even the scariest of places with no fear.” Like a monster’s heart, she doesn’t say.

“Like a superpower!” Julian gasped.

Renfri separated one dandelion from the little clutch and reached out to tuck it behind a little ear. “For the stubborn hero, Jaskier.”

(this is THE fic that got me into the witcher fandom and i can't believe i never reced this before. renfri & jaskier's siblingship is so damn good and just, the amount of effort put into their backstory and relationship makes me want to cry sometimes. and yennefer, ohoho, yennefer is at her Best here, i love her in this fic and her relationship with these siblings! geralt both makes me want to punch him and hug him, which is the norm and totally understandable hahaha! seriously, one of the best witcher fics i've ever read, please please read!)

-

[Boku no Hero Academia]

Where your love has always been enough (for me) by classicequinox

Ship: Todorki Enji/Todorki Rei

It's a dark coil of anger deep in the pit of his stomach, reminding him that he was the root, the catalyst, the trigger for their family's downward spiral. It did happen - he reminds himself harshly. He can't forget that, even if time has actually reset itself.

Todoroki Enji gets a second chance. It's up to him to see what he can do with it.

(genuinely the most believable enji i've seen regarding how he deals with his past actions and trying to be better and rei being a complicated, good person who i can see matches well with enji. really well done characterization and slow building relationship that is believable to me. enji trying to change things in a meaningful, careful manner makes me want to root for him!)

Katsuki Bakugou Makes A Friend (And Also Almost Dies, But Whatever) by Sif (Rosae)

Katsuki Bakugou is eight years old, he has no idea how he got here, where he is, or who this other kid is with him, but that's not gonna stop him from being brave and tough, just like the hero he's gonna be when he's older!

The universe has other ideas, but Katsuki Bakugou is a child made of spite, hubris, determination, and way too much nitroglycerin, so the universe can take it's ideas and shove 'em. After all, nobody out-stubborns Katsuki. Nobody.

(KID BAKUGOU & KID SHIGARAKI FRIENDSHIP! BAKUGOU STOLE MY HEART! SO SMART, SUCH A HERO! I LAUGHED AND CRIED THROUGHOUT THIS FIC, MY HEART CAN'T TAKE THIS! LITTLE SHIGARAKI MAKES A FRIEND AND IT'S TOO CUTE!!! so freaking adorable, oh lord. fneiwofpweafe)

Play The Field by lalazee for Banna_Banana

Ship: Bakugou/Midoriya

Baseball and feelings, feelings and baseball. Turns out, Bakugou and Deku are both good and bad at the same things. They try to work on it.

(look, i don't even know man. i stumbled upon this baseball au fic and the characterization is so top notch!! the backstories and feelings you get from this matches bakugou and deku's canon relationship perfectly and i flew past this so fast, god. please give this a chance, it's fantastic!)

-

[Marvel]

Blips on the Record by ambivalentangst for Bean_reads_fanfic

Flash, let it be known, doesn’t like Peter. He’s too good at everything—infuriatingly so—and nobody ever calls him on his bullshit, like with AcaDec nationals. Flash has to put his all into everything he does for a fraction of the attention Peter gets for his bare minimum, and it pisses him off, to say the least, so sue him for looking for chances here and there to knock him down a peg.

However, when he notices, he shuts his entire operation down.

Maybe Peter has a decade on his age when he was in the thick of it, but Flash remembers what it was like. He gets having school be a safe place, and nobody, not even himself, is going to jeopardize that for Peter.

//

Flash Thompson’s story is not simple, Peter Parker can always use someone else in his corner, and secrets are had and protected by all.

(flash is fleshed out! flash is getting some Good Rep! flash doing his best and being grumpy but ultimately trying to help peter in what ways he could! flash being a complex character and making me love him all over again! flash! getting some actual freaking attention fewnifoapew! THANK YOU! seriously, if you're looking for an actual good flash fic that doesn't feel disingenuous, read this!)

people were mean to you, but I always thought you were cool by suzukiblu for beckyh2112

Fandoms: Avengers & X-men

“What are your feelings on the mutant threat?!” one of the reporters shouts, and Steve just looks at him.

“I think anyone threatening mutants should be stopped,” he says calmly, and the swarm of reporters explodes, a dozen camera flashes going off at once.

(not exaggerating when i say i've reread this fic so many times that it's honestly concerning. steve & cyclop's friendship here makes me so soft?? they're both leaders of their teams and steve not being what everyone expects of him is always a soft spot for me. will forever be addicted to this fic, please enjoy!)

#notmycap by missgoalie75

Fandom: The Falcon and the Winter Soldier

In which Bucky fully embraces the 21st century and is a salty bitch on Twitter.

(nonono, you don't understand. you don't understand how much i howled and screamed in public while reading this, oh my GOD. honestly the funniest shit i've read in a VERY long time, bucky is Perfect here. fucking drag that guy you beautiful cranky soul. X'D)

[mirismuffins-ovo]

Plant Palace pt 8🌿

John felt guilty,he hadn’t expected Eddie to accept him back so easily but it still hurt to feel rejected. John had gone back to his car. It was a colder night but he sleeplessly stayed there for the night. Missing his kids and filled with sadness,what would he tell his kids if he came back and said Eddie didn’t want anything to do for John. He’d felt lonely for such a long time and feared losing the one person he wanted to be with most.

He stayed there for the rest of the night,ignoring his hungry stomach begging for food. John normally went hungry for the sake of the kids when they handed out rations for the camps and he’d gotten into the habit of eating less. His clothes hid that fact for the most part,he had examined Eddie's house,it was nice. Eddie had done well for himself,and he didn’t blame Eddie for being mad at John,he’d ran off after promising they’d have a family together and raise the babies together. Sleeplessly lying in the driver's seat with it reclined thinking about everything.

Eddie groaned as he woke up. Leafy and Bitty were pawing at his legs as he realized where he was. He never left the front entry way and didn’t think about the cats.

“Shit.” He groaned.

He got up, going to feed the cats when Bitty looked up at him and meowed before rubbing up against his leg. Then it all dawned on him.

“SHIT, JOHN!”

He fled his apartment, running outside, seeing maybe the man fell asleep at his apartment complex entry way. He didn’t care if it was early in the morning, He fucked up. He had promised himself over the years that it didn’t matter what happened to John. He wasn’t human so he had to do what the man had to do, and Eddie accepted that when they were dating. Just his own jealousy got in the way. He ran in the opposite direction he walked home in the night before, shouting for John’s name. He didn’t even look in any of the parked cars on the side of the street or alleyways. All he wanted to do was find his old lover and hold him in his arms again and apologize for being a complete dick.

John looked over with restless eyes from his small car seeing Eddie running around seeming to look like he was distressed.He wondered would Eddie really be better off,as he listened to him call his name. It seemed like it from what he said last night but he got out of the car,his eyes burned from crying the whole night but also no sleep. He shut the car door loud enough to let Eddie know to look over. John couldn’t bring himself to look at Eddie.

John leaned on his car,watching the man somberly,hearing the rapid steps from Eddie darting around in frantic search. He’d figured Eddie would be better with someone more normal...after all he said maybe it was better that people like them shouldn’t be together. John had spent all night trying to decide whether he should’ve turned the car around and driven back to camp. He hoped he didn’t choose wrong.

As soon as Eddie heard the car door close, he whipped around seeing the smaller distressed frame of the familiar man. Eddie took off full he speed,as fast as his older body could before flung himself at John, embracing him and swinging him around.

“Thank God you didn’t leave!” Eddie exclaimed in pure joy as he set John down from the spin.

John looked up confused but also trying to hide a blush on his cheeks.

“I know we have a lot to work out, but I am so so sorry for being an ass last night. I had a shitty band practice and so I went to get a few drinks and this one girl kept hitting on me at the bar and then I heard your song on the bus home and I…” Eddie paused himself,pulling the red head in for a hug again. “I’ve missed you so so much..I feel like I’m in Heaven right now seeing you again..” he muttered in a loving tone. Placing a gentle hand on the back of Johns head still holding him.

Eddie was crying tears of joy again. John was alive, John was safe, John was here.

John had frozen shocked by the sudden action,he didn’t know what to say. He felt happier than ever and relieved but still filled with confusion, “I’m sorry..I don’t know what I should say” he muttered in a dry voice,batting his eyes a few times while streams of tears ran down his face. Now in the arms of Eddie tightly burying his face into Eddie's upper shoulder. John's stomach said something for him with a loud growl. He blushed embarrassed and pulled away from the hug to look up at Eddie.

“I missed you Eddie...I should've tried to take you with me” John's pale frail hand wiped a tear falling,from his cheek as he let out a soft shaky breath. His stomach letting out another growl craving food once again.

Eddie just ignored the words for the time being and broke them apart for a quick moment before smooshing their lips together in a super long, 2 year delayed, kiss. It felt good to finally connect this intimately with the person he loved dearly. Suffocating one another in affection,but another growl from John’s stomach snapped them out of it,Eddie snickered as John blushed with embarrassment.

“Come back to my place, I’ll cook something. Plus I’m sure there is someone who’d love to see you right now.” Grabbing John’s hand, Eddie started to drag him in the direction of his house.

When they were reaching his apartment, he forgot to close his door and was afraid the cats got out. He quickly approached the door and looked inside, calling to his two kitty companions. He left John at the door to see if he could still find them.

“Spspspsp” He sounded out and waited. The singer walked in looking around to see Bitty pinning Leafy down who was struggling to move as he wanted to go out the door. “Good kitty! Keeping Leafy inside!” He cooed, getting them treats. “Daddy’s sorry he left in a hurry, I’ll give you extra kibble.” Both cats heard food and started to pour more into their dishes.

“You can come in now.” Eddie called, hearing the footsteps enter his home and close his front door.

Bitty lifted her head up in wonder to see who came inside her home when the kitty smelled an old but familiar smell. “Murrrrp? Merrrrp!” She ditched her food dish and ended up rubbing herself on her old cat dad. She meowed and purred vigorously when John picked her up and started laughing.

“Awww my lil Bits” He held her like a baby and gave her head small kisses “I missed you so much my lil one” he laughed softly and set her down purring loudly as she pranced over to the food bowl “I missed her,Thankyou for taking care of her Eds”

John tiredly sat down on a chair relaxing a bit as Eddie started to cook up breakfast,he looked like he was ready to fall asleep then and there. John was exhausted from his worrying, “your house is really nice,I also like the new cat” he smiled at Eddie from across the table. He fidgeted with his red hair “the girls wanna meet you Eddie..and I can’t stop thinking about it” Johns eyes were closed now,smiling at the thought of his sweet kids “my moms taking care of them right now”

Eddie smiled. “I would love to see them too John…” He got out a couple of plates. “But we need to work out what’s between us. We need to make sure it's really safe for Humans and Abbies to live together and be allowed to love each other. Things have been trying to change for the better between our species, but there’s always that loophole that continues to set everyone back.”

He dished up the food and handed one plate to John who carefully begin to take small bites to ease the food into his stomach. Eddie ate like normal, scratching Leafy’s ear when the kitty decided to beg for his food.

“No, Leaf, go eat your kibble.”

Eddie turned his attention back to John. “So… How have you been, like really been?”

John thought about the question pausing his meal,he normally tried to not think about how he was feeling. “I-...I’m tired,it’s been a rough few years raising the kids...and helping my mom with the rebellion,getting captured then breaking out of a facility.I really lucked out they didn’t find I could have kids,...we aren’t seen as humans in facilities” John gave an awkward laugh attempting to hide his grim recount,before he shoved another bite into his mouth chewing slowly. “It’s been...lonely” John had gotten sick during one of the harsher winters after he had the girls. He let out a deep breath rubbing his burning eyes. “It was actually my mom and the girls who said I should try to come back to see you…I mean I was planning to anyways, but I just wasn’t sure if my mom could watch the kids that long. Or if you’d want to even see me.” John ran his fingers through his petal filled hair,it all stressed him out. “Anyways how've you been…” John didn’t wanna tell Eddie that he longed to continue the dream of having a family with him,getting married and actually carrying the children of Eddie. He knew it would be too much to say,it’d been so long after all. He didn’t wanna rush things too fast and lose him again.

“I’ve been better.” Eddie replied. “Just been working on a new EP with the band. After a few concerts, Greenhouse was a success to my surprise. I guess it resonated with a bunch of people. Some people have called it the ‘Barrier Breaker’, saying it’s what's going to bring the people together.” He shrugged. “But who knows.”

He let out another sigh. “So you’ve mentioned you’ve broken out of a facility. But it’s legal for Humans and Abnormals to live together now. Does this mean you’re a fugitive? Does your Mom know you were taken? What about the girls?” He started spilling questions. But then he stopped.

“Sorry. But if you really are on the run, then we have to figure something out so you’re really free.”

“I was a fugitive,this wasn’t the first time I was in a facility. So when we first met I could technically be considered a fugitive,but after this break out and some political negotiations with the governor. My mother and I with a few others were able to make it legal in this state to live in city’s with regular people.” John took a deep breath trying to not overload Eddie with information. “And now a few other progressive states it’s legal,it’s making its way to the presidential office,so hopefully it’ll be countrywide soon” John had an awkward smile for a moment. “we’re working on the details about Abnormals and Regulars getting married and such” He shrugged and sat back in his chair,”Before we were together,a few years back I did some shit as a teenager that got me put in a facility” clearing his throat he continued “it’s why Quinn blew up when I asked about them taking the babies,but now, I’m not a fugitive,I’m ‘legal’ now”

Eddie felt so relieved, like his heart was mending back together.

“We should talk more but you look like you’re about to pass out. Stay for a few days, rest up and eat. I’m still in the middle of the album so I’ll be in my studio most of the day. If you need to leave…” He looked at John with seriousness, giving a warning in his tone of voice. “Tell me. If you run off again, I won’t be as forgiving.”

He got up, went to take a shower real quick then left for the studio. Eddie was elated that John was back, but he couldn’t forgive him just yet. He needed to mend his broken heart and he knew just how to do it. Eddie dried off and got dressed in pajamas,making his way down the hall. John who’d finished eating and seemed to pass out on Eddies couch.

When he walked into his studio, he got set up, texted his band about what’d happened,then began to strum his guitar. He heard only one song ringing through his head now,the song that had been haunting him for years. He closed his eyes, sliding his finger and plucking the first string, beginning to play Eden.

[deathisanartmetzli]

More Than Meets the Eye || Vic & Metzli

TIMING: Early August

PARTIES: @natusvincere @deathisanartmetzli

SUMMARY: Vic runs into Metzli and gets a lot more than just unwanted flirtation.

CONTAINS: Gore

As the final remnants of the sun dissipated, Metzli let out a soft sigh. It was a long day, a little too long for their liking, but it was finally over. Giving the place a final look, checking off each box on their nightly routine list, they heard a faint crack. Curiously, the crack seemed to echo. The sound of rock breaking apart likewise broke their concentration.

Following the sound, it led to the sculpture section of the gallery. Nothing seemed out of place in the slightest. Metzli walked through to make double sure, and when they found nothing, they headed back towards the front to grab their things.

Metzli was quick to swing the strap of their bag and engage their security system, doing it twice out of cautiousness. Their footsteps clacked against the tile floor, coming to a stop as they exited. The key slid in and an audible click sounded as the door locked. Pocketing their keys, their eyes caught sight of a rather beautiful woman. They smiled and thought maybe they could get lucky today. “Good evening, miss. How do you do? Lovely evening, is it not?”

The definitive worst thing about being a vampire (besides that annoying eternal life thing), was being forced to avoid the sun and it’s beauty at all costs.  Even in Vic’s worst days as a human, the sun had a way of adding both a literal and figurative brightness to her day, because even in the darkest of times, it always returned.  Now, without it, darkness loomed.  The quacks of the 21st century would say something about vitamin D deficiency.

The twilight of the late evening gave at least some sort of loophole from this problem, and it was when she found herself venturing out most when she wasn’t working.  The plus side, too, was that most people were too wrapped up in trying to get home to their families to even think about bothering her.  But fuck all, apparently she wouldn’t be so lucky tonight.

Vic usually lingered in her walks by art galleries, enjoying careful peaks inside if they were already closed for the night.  She had been planning on doing just that, too, until a person locking the door all but accosted her.  Her face instinctively formed into a scowl, automatically on the defence.  “I’m not your miss.  I am a grown woman”, she said.  At their second question, she looked the person up and down, a firm scowl still set, though morphing into one a bit more judgemental.  “Well, it was a good evening.  Do you need something, or can I continue on my walk?”

“My, my. You really know how to make a gentlethem swoon,” Metzli retorted with a chuckle. It wasn’t often that someone met them with such disgust within the first second. It usually took about ten, so this was a remarkable record. “I never claimed you as mine, but maybe just for the night you can be,” They flirted, horribly so. The fact that Vic had no interest only made them want to bother her more.

Metzli faced Vic fully now, hearing no heartbeat and gathering a familiar scent in their nose. They leaned onto the door and crossed their arms casually to take in Vic’s unrelenting visage. The sight only made them smile wider, revealing perfect white teeth. “Do you treat everyone with such charm, or is it only special people like me?” This was no longer about the art of flirting, but the art of annoying.

Just as Metzli opened their mouth to continue, another echoing and rocky crack resonated in their ears. This interruption made their head snap towards the glass doors, to peer inside. “Did you hear that?” Everything, the annoying and flirting, was out the window now. Something felt off. Something felt…sinister.

Vic stared stone faced at the person in front of her, blinking twice as she tried to decide exactly what about their interaction was so swoon-worthy.  She let out a huff, her stone face somehow becoming even more stern.  “I don’t belong to anyone, blobfish.  Especially not dense, odd-looking people like yourself.”  The lack of a heartbeat didn’t help either, though the fact that she didn’t think to automatically call a hunter on this person made her gut flutter uncomfortably.  Especially after hearing barely 3 sentences from them, it was already clear that they were relentlessly annoying.  Turning in a potential vampire should have been easy, but especially when they were as antagonistic as this person was.

“Can I tell you a secret?”, she asked, slapping on her famous fake charm for only a moment before turning it off in an instant. “There is nothing special about you.  Never was, never will be.  When I leave here, I will never think about you again, even though you’ll spend the rest of the month at least thinking about me. Now I’m only going to say this once, so make sure you turn on your listening ears.  Back. The fuck. Off.”

Just as she spoke the last of her threat, a loud, earthy rumble could be heard inside the gallery.  She turned to it, her eyebrows furrowed in investigation.  “Of course I heard it, stupid.  Did you accidentally leave someone in there with the merchandise?”  The sound rumbled closer rather quickly, and she forced herself to look back at the person in front of her.  “Don’t you work here?!  Shouldn’t you know what’s going on in your own place of employment?!”

Without a shadow of a doubt, Metzli knew they poked the bear thoroughly. Only, this was definitely a vampire bear with a vengeance against her own kind. Or maybe against amazing people flirting with her. They didn’t know, but they certainly knew she was way off base with the blob fish comment. “Whoa there. Blob fish? Fuck that. I’m attractive and you’re way too hot headed to acknowledge such decadence.” There was no malice in their tone, only a light joking one.

“Furthermore, while you have every right to turn down my advances, I don’t think I ever gave you a reason to be so…for the lack of a better term, bitchy towards me.” Metzli was mocking Vic, and it was obvious with the kind of voice they used. Layers upon layers of annoyance and sarcasm, molded together to serve in their words. Their toothy grin remained plastered on their face as they retrieved the keys from their pocket.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, gorgeous, I gotta ch—“ Something crashed into the door, breaking the glass and frame completely before Metzli could even put the key in the lock. “Fuck!” Glass sprayed everywhere as the two vampires were knocked to the ground by an unknown creature. It took a few moments, but Metzli managed to follow the trail of broken stone. Nothing but their eyes moved until they locked onto a grotesque and slobber-ridden chupacabra. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“Hm, you seem really eager to prove how attractive you are.  Am I sensing some deep-seated insecurity here?”  Vic blinked in surprise when she was called bitchy, tilting her head in offense.  “Ooh, I can see why you approach strangers on the street instead of using acceptable ways to find someone to validate you as a person with fake praise and sexual favors.  Your lack of tact explains a lot.  Having a hard time finding a first date, Honey?  Try not insulting people you’re trying to pick up.”   She wanted nothing more than to slap the grin off their face, but her words had the ability to cut deeper than any physical injury could muster.  

She was about to bite again at the pet name, seriously second guessing her decision not to figure out for sure if this person was a vampire like she thought, when she was thrown to the ground unexpectedly, glass shattering all around her.  Her eyes landed on a slimy, thin, reptilian creature, and she looked at Metzli with disgust.  “What the hell is that?!”

She stood up quickly, dusting herself off and not bothering to help her companion stand up.  Was the gallery doubling as some weird, supernatural breeding ground?  She didn’t have time to ask, because the creature was seemingly bounding toward them without hesitation, fast and slobbery and with nearly nothing stopping it.

Gathering their wits about them, Metzli dove towards the chupacabra, not hesitating to halt its path towards Vic. Though most people would mistake this as a heroic act, it was more showboating than anything. “It’s a fucking chupacabra, numbnuts!” They barked out the statement, struggling to hold the creature still. Thanks to living over a century, their strength was more than quintupled now, but even that wasn’t a total advantage here.

Metzli huffed as they threw the chupacabra to the side, hoisting it several feet away. “That was a sculpture before it was this. Someone must’ve donated it as a threat or because they’re stupid.” They thought out loud as they moved over to Vic. Survival was crucial here, and so was keeping a low profile. God knows what this would do to the gallery’s reputation. And a woman dying in front of it too? No, that wasn’t going to happen. Not on their watch.

The creature growled and shuffled around, trying to refocus and find its prey. With widened eyes, Metzli watched as the beast loomed closer, baring its teeth in a threatening show of dominance. They stepped back slowly, trying not to make any loud noises. The time to get out of dodge was now, and they knew they’d have to bring the aggressive woman with them if they wanted to protect their gallery’s image. Before bolting for a dark area nearby, they reached for Vic’s hand, and uttered a single word, “Run.”

It was highly offensive to be thrown to the ground and then be called a name within mere seconds.  Vic shot Metzli a look, one that was sure to let them know how incredibly displeased she was, before her eyes found their way back to the creature, trying to study it.  She certainly had never heard of a kookaburra in White Crest, but stranger things had happened.  “That’s not a bird, you imbecile.  It’s a lizard!”

With the creature momentarily disabled, Vic took the opportunity to stand up, backing behind the person she had determined was responsible for this whole mess, Metzli.  “You and your staff didn’t think of double checking the matter before you allowed the statue in your facility?” she asked incredulously, disgusted by the clear lack of customer service going on here.

At Metzli’s command, Vic took off immediately, pulling the other person with her and not taking a second to look back to see if they were being followed.  Even if Metzli had clearly gotten the name of this thing wrong, they seemed to have at least some knowledge of what it might be.  “What the fuck does it want?”, she asked as they ran, no more breathless than she’d been when they were standing still.  “How do we fucking get rid of it?”

Metzli practically rolled their eyes all the way back as Vic ridiculed them and their staff. “I told you, it was a statue! A full blown, marble statue! No movement, and no charms indicated a live creature resided in it!” Their words jumped about as they ran, too frantic to keep it even. “In here!” Vic was pulled into a dark alley, a little roughly, but she was put behind them. Being much taller than her, they covered her completely.

“Chupacabras don’t normally go after anything but goats, I thought. But maybe it’s mad.” Metzli whispered, taking slow and controlled steps back, leading the two further into the alley. “If we stay put, it’ll go away and bother less important people. Like humans.” A quiet laugh escaped their lips and they grabbed a metal pipe, just in case. Vic seemed like she could beat the shit out of something, but Metzli couldn’t rely on pure assumption right now.

“Can you do anything other than be an ass? You look strong. Super strength or are you just one of the useless undead people with toned bodies for show?” Even now, Metzli just had to push some buttons.

“A statue in White Crest”, Vic shot back incredulously.  “It’s entirely irresponsible to assume that anything brought to your facility is just going to be normal.  Wouldn’t it make sense to hire some sort of...supernatural curator or something?”  Normally, she wasn’t so forward when it came to issues of the supernatural.  She wasn’t one of the idiots who flaunted her knowledge around the town as if they were speaking about the sales at the grocery store instead of something as life or death as supernatural creatures.  But Metzli clearly knew about the subject, so much so that they might be the only person helpful enough to help her survive whatever situation they had gotten themselves into.   She nearly let out a shriek as she was pulled, and her eyebrows pressed together at how close their bodies were pressed together.

She looked up at her companion, a huff leaving her lips before she spoke.  “Mad like angry, or mad like losing its mind?,” she asked, chancing a peak toward the creature.  She scoffed, pushing Metzli away from her at their idea.  “What kind of immoral slob do you think I am?,” she demanded, clearly offended.  “First of all, who said anything about being undead?”.  Even with an admission she knew of the supernatural, and this person’s apparent knowledge of her lack of heartbeat, a stranger would never get the privilege of hearing about her status as a vampire. “Second- we cannot just let this thing off to destroy people’s lives.  We have a responsibility to stop it before anyone gets hurt, you depraved ingrate!”

She swallowed, frustrated, and looked between Metzli and the creature once more.  “I’m a rather adept boxer”, she said, clenching her fists as she spoke.  “But I’m not confident that thing won’t turn itself back to stone once I try to take a swing- is that something it would do?”  Her eyes settled on Metzli, who she just decided she hated asking for help.  “What about you?  Are you good for anything other than being annoying and irresponsible?”

Boy oh boy was Vic getting on Metzli’s nerves. She was so hot-headed that she couldn’t even give a semblance of grace. “Listen, I’m trying to help you, despite how fucking disrespectful you’ve been. I’m new to this fucking place, but you’re too fucking busy to even give me a chance. A single. Fucking. Chance.” A low, guttural growl tickled through their throat as they glared at Vic. She had finally gotten on their bad side, it didn’t matter how hard they tried to push through the anger, they needed a minute.

Forcing a breath through their teeth, they squeezed the pipe to the point of leaving indents before finally succumbing to calmness. Metzli simply muttered, “They’re mad, as in angry. And no, turning to stone isn’t a specialty. Someone else must’ve done that. Also, I can obviously hear that you have no pulse, and you’re fucking freezing.” They rolled their eyes and paced forward to the entrance of the alleyway to take one last look at the chupacabra. “Fine. We’ll take care of it. But only if you stop being such a dick. I was trained in a clan and can handle myself well, and…fuck. Fine. If you need help, I guess I’ll have your back.”

They reached a hand out, motioning for Vic to shake their hand, “A small truce for now. I don’t know what your problem is with your own species, but I’m willing to put aside everything if you are. I haven’t had the best few weeks so…I—so—ugh. Sorry I blew up.”

Vic blinked, stopping for a moment to let her gaze fall on Metzli as they blew up on her.  She pressed her lips together, processing exactly what was being said to her.  Everything that they said felt justified- they were thoughts that had been tossed around her own brain for decades now. Thoughts that she worried everyone felt anyway. But still, despite how her mind was feeling, her mouth went on the defense.  “I’m too busy trying to survive”, she muttered, though her eyes flashed away from Metzli’s.  “Don’t flatter yourself.”

Her eyes wandered to where Metzli’s hand was wrapped around the pipe, and then back to their face, letting out a low breath of her own.  “What do you suppose it’s so angry about?”, she wondered aloud, bracing herself for a fight with the creature, as if one were only moments away.  “I have an undiagnosed medical condition”, she lied matter of factly, not interested in sharing the truth.   She wanted to tell Metlzi that they’d probably take care of it in terms of self-preservation anyway, but maybe after upsetting them, it was best to leave well enough alone.  She let out a huff before shaking their hand reluctantly.

“A truce”, she agreed, as ridiculous as it felt, “I suppose I can put insulting your character on hold until we’re in a safer situation.  I’m… sorry if anything I said offended you”, she said through gritted teach.  Before either of them had a chance to have any closure on their apologies, the creature was bounding toward them.  It rushed it’s body into Vic, sending her against the wall of the gallery with a grunt.  

“It’s probably mad at the people who turned it int—” Words were interrupted by the bellowing roar of the bounding chupacabra, followed by a crunching blow. There was no time to react, to stop the beast from running straight into Vic. Without thinking, Metzli threw their body at the chupacabra before it could do anything else to her. The metal pipe was thrusted into its chest with pure force and it screeched in pain.

Limbs thrashed and teeth snapped over and over again until Metzli was successfully thrown off. “Come on, Medical Condition! Rip its fucking head off!” they demanded, getting pummeled and bitten over and over again. Black blood pooled on the ground as it seeped from every bite.

A hand found a slippery grip on the protruding pipe, pulling it out and using it as a method of defense. It was the last resort, the last chance Metzli had against the devastating blows. Whether they lived or died didn’t matter, but they made a truce and told Vic they’d protect her. And if there was anything Metzli was not, it was a liar. They kept it distracted, trying to give Vic the chance to compose herself and attack properly. It was a struggle, but they wouldn’t lose their resolve.

Thankfully, Vic’s brain had the chance to process what Metlzi was trying to say before the wind was figuratively knocked out of her.  It would have crushed her body if not for Metzli’s intervention, and for the first time, she was actually thankful for their presence.  With the new defensive attack, the beast had found a new target in Metzli, and at first, all Vic could do was stare in disbelief at it’s anger and violence.  Violence on this scale, while it was something she might have incited, wasn’t something she experienced first hand often, or even liked to think about.  It brought back painful memories that were too stubborn be forgotten after 400 years.

But then her companion’s words shook her out of her temporary stupor and she sprung into action, using the chupacabra’s distraction to her advantage.  She jumped on the creature from behind, muttering expletives in Swedish as it tried to throw her off, fighting for dominance.

She grit her teeth when she finally got a good hold of it’s head, and with Metzli’s earlier advice ringing in her ears, she tore it off.  The creature’s body stood stiff for a moment, as if time had frozen between the three of them, but then it tumbled to the floor, sending Vic down with it.

She looked up at Metzli, the previous rigor of a fight in her features replaced with concern.  It was the first time she had felt any type of sympathy for the other person.  “Are you going to be okay?”, she asked, pushing herself up.  “You’re looking rather rough.”

Stillness took over not only their body, but the air surrounding the two. Metzli felt their thick and congealed blood pool around them, and they felt so hungry. The chupacabra’s body was still very much warm as it laid dead on the ground next to them. “Nice job, Medical Condi…” But they trailed off, black consuming their vision as dizziness took over their head. Rolling over, they managed to get to their knees and crawl to a wall to prop themselves up. This was the worst condition they had been in since their days in the clan.

“I think after all of that, I should get at least a date at the bar,” Metzli coughed raspily until it bled into a dry chuckle. Despite the pain they were feeling, they wanted to give the notion that they were more than fine. Great, even. “I’ll even buy the drinks.” They continued to joke, only being half-serious about the gesture. Vic was definitely appealing visually, and even showed strength that they respected, but her personality was a little too hot-headed for their taste. But if there was anything Metzli had learned in their years of living, it was that people, just like them, put on a front to conceal their true selves from others.

“Hey…”, Vic said, walking the short distance to them.  She rested her hand on their back, leaning down to get a good look at their face.  Their condition was possibly even worse than she thought it was, and there weren’t many ways to help an injured vampire that she was comfortable with.  

A Vic from last year would have seized the opportunity to turn them in to a hunter.

Instead, she said, “We need to get you some animal blood.  I know a guy, if you don’t.”  She tucked a hair behind her ear, still refusing to acknowledge the truth of what she was.  Thank god for Metlzi’s impeccable timing for annoyance, because it gave her a chance to recover.  “Don’t hold your figurative breath, Sweetheart.  You know, you’re a lot more likely to get laid if you don’t sound so desperate.  You sound like an insufferable teenager when you continuously come onto someone who’s clearly not interested.”

She pressed her lips together, leaning her back against the wall they were using as a crutch.  “Sorry about your statue”, she said genuinely, gesturing to the bits of glass that surrounded what used to be a door.  “I hope the gallery has good insurance.  

Seeing Vic a little concerned, Metzli couldn’t help themselves and said, “Ha. You care about me. Well, you did. For at least two seconds.” They spit to the side, black blood spattering on the floor. Aches and pains cascaded to every nerve, making them grimace as they got to their feet. “Nah, I’m good, Vic. I’ve annoyed ya enough for one evening. It’s getting boring.” Each step hiccuped with a limp and they rolled their eyes at themselves. Being so injured was annoying, but it was also exhilarating to have been so close to death. So close it made them laugh. “That was a lot of fun though. Would’ve been funny as shit if I had died.”

Vic’s concern was so out of place that it made them stumble and reposition their hands on the alleyway wall. “My gallery will be fine. Thanks, though. Maybe you’re not so bad. ” Metzli teased, walking around the corner and passing the ruins of their entrance door. Glass crunched under every step. They sucked their teeth and took out their phone to start making calls for the door, subsequently taking out a business card and holding it out for Vic. “If you wanna keep in touch, here’s my card. Sorry your night got all ruined. Pretty women like shouldn’t have to deal with shit like this.”

Vic didn’t bother to suppress her eyeroll, which was so much easier than acknowledging that Metzli might have been right.  Still, there was an itching of concern for them, especially when it was notable that they were still definitely not in good shape.  “Our definitions of fun are vastly different”, she decided out loud.  Inwardly, she decided to walk Metzli home, or at least make sure they got home okay.  She figured it’d be better than having to worry the whole night if they made it safely or not.  Even if she’d have to sneakily wait till whatever time they decided to leave.

She took their card, but vowed to destroy it when she got home.  In her hands, if she were in another state of mind, it would be too dangerous for her to have that kind of information. She let out a breath, tucking it into her pocket and looking back at them, her face barely changing.  “Nobody should have to deal with shit like this”, she argued, unblinking.  “But I guess that’s the world we live in, isn’t it?”

For so long, she thought she had been making the world they lived in a better place by ridding it of vampires.  When one proved to her the amount of humanity they could have, like Metzli did tonight, she had to wonder who the real monster was.

[bugsandchatons]

when you weren’t mine to lose (6)

Summary: Change is a scary thing, especially when it feels like nothing has stayed the same.

It’s been a year since Marinette became the Guardian of the Miracle Box - a year of struggling beneath a burden she never asked for, a weight that has her leaning on her partner more and more as the hours fly by, of letting him come to her, too, when he needs a soft place to land. A year of falling for the boy who takes on the world by her side with a smile made of sunlight, and fighting the growing urge to tell him what he means to her.

After all, they’ll have time enough for that when Paris is safe.

But when the unthinkable happens, Marinette learns the tragedy of loving someone quietly, and the lines she’ll cross to save him.

[[AO3]] {from the beginning}

*****

[six: dear lord, when I get to heaven]

Another sunrise breaks the clouds.

This time, Ouroboros keeps an eye on the comings and goings of Paris from the secrecy of the shadows. She watches Chat Noir emerge from Marinette’s skylight and tracks his movements as he bounds over rooftops, carefree with his ignorance of what’s to come.

What had come. Past tense. As long as she breathes, it won’t happen again. 

She stays hidden as he sails through the sky. If his shoulders tense with every step closer to the Agreste Mansion, she notices, but discards it. She can do nothing about it now, but she’ll remember.

Instead, she lets him go, swearing it’ll be the last time she ever has to.

Revealing herself to him earlier had been a mistake. Tikki had warned her that even outside of Hawkmoth’s direct influence, the Akuma would still make her more easily moved by her emotions, especially negative ones. If she wanted to stay off this Hawkmoth’s radar, she’d have to keep it under control. 

And she would. Nothing would stand in her way when the time came. But she has hours to go, and until then, she does all she can do; she watches.

She keeps watch from the eaves of the clocktower as Adrien leaves his house for the bakery. She takes up a post in the tree across the street to see him leave with a pastry box in hand and his eyes on the back of Marinette’s head with an expression so soft she’s not sure how she never felt it.

From the rafters of the Gare du Nord, she watches Félix disembark his train into Nathalie and Adrien’s care. She notices how, as fans approach Adrien by the minute, Félix grows more and more caustic, and Adrien’s shoulders become more and more strained.

As Ouroboros follows them throughout the morning and into the afternoon while they drift between tourist attractions, she thinks of and learns many things: She wonders what Gabriel Agreste could be up to today that would convince him to allow Adrien out of the house for so long. She wonders how it took her until now to realize that Félix must be the one to become Mirror Image. She wonders, too, what makes up a person; how Adrien could be so different from his cousin, a boy who looks so much like him on the outside but couldn’t be more his opposite, or how Chat Noir could be so fundamentally unlike his father that it leads them to opposing sides of the same war.

She wonders how a boy raised in loneliness and derision could grow up only to be unfailingly kind, and learns that a heart can take so many breaks in so few hours and still keep beating.

As the day slips by, it occurs to her that this is what Chat Noir dies for: Hawkmoth’s insatiable greed and Félix’s poisonous envy. The brightest of them all ends with his light doused, reduced to ashes for nothing worthy of his life.

This is not how his story should end.

It sets her teeth grinding and gives birth to a rage so overpowering it’s nearly enough to have her throwing caution to the wind and storming the Agreste Mansion on her own - nearly. Instead, she takes a breath. She watches, and she remembers.

She watches Adrien trail behind his pitiful excuse for a family and sees the way he casts longing looks in the direction of  Françoise Dupont whenever their journey carries them past the school. What adds a final crack to the fault lines mapping her heart is the realization that, at the end of it all, the day that became his last was a disappointing one.

Let him go, she wants to scream. Let him go back to where he’s loved. 

She’s about thirty seconds from breaking, from swinging down from the Eiffel Tower and stealing Adrien away when the sound of a vortex opening makes her jump. Ouroboros spins around in time to see the blinding white-blue flash and a familiar figure stepping through it. 

“Oh, Minibug. What have we gotten ourselves into now?”

Ouroboros gapes at her. “Where have you been?” 

Bunnyx waves a hand. “Here and there.” Her eyes scan the area before settling on Ouroboros. She arches an eyebrow. “New suit? Edgy.”

Fury, as potent as it is misplaced, swells inside her until she’s seething. “Seriously? That’s all you have to say?” 

“No, not all. Come on, we’ve got to split.” Bunnyx takes a step back toward her burrow portal, but Ouroboros holds her ground. 

“What? No way,” she hisses. “I’m not leaving.”

Something like frustration flickers across Bunnyx’s expression. “Look at you, LB. We’re on thin ice already - all of this can snowball out of control at any second, and you’ve made a choice that’s going to have some consequences, so the best thing to do is-” 

“Where were you?” Ouroboros interrupts, her voice small. “I screamed your name for an hour. I begged you to come and help me, to help him, but now you show up? To try to stop me? Alix,” she drops her voice low, “why?” 

It’s enough to break through the mask of Bunnyx’s composure. She hesitates, then shoves a jerky hand over her rabbit ears. “Listen, it’s not...it’s not easy to be in there, okay?” She throws an arm out toward her burrow. “Most of the time, I can’t change anything, I just see it. The future isn’t set in stone and every choice we make can change a hundred different little things. By the time this path played out, you had already set out to change it. But now things are about to get complicated, so we’ve got to go.” 

“No.” Ouroboros doesn’t move. “I’m here to save Chat.” 

Bunnyx sighs. “And have you thought about how you plan to do that, little Miss Angry Bug-Snake? It’s already in motion. Unless you’re going to swoop in, be seen by half of Paris looking like that, and somehow snatch Félix Graham de Vanily’s Akuma out of thin air, it’s already over. And by the way, I don’t recommend that. It’ll do some serious damage to the timeline.”

“No,” Ouroboros repeats, crossing her arms. If time and fate were an unstoppable force, she would be an immovable object. “I’m going to stop the battle.”

The exasperation in Bunnyx’s expression gentles. “That’s not going to work, Ladybug. I’ve seen this go down, I’ve tried to find a loophole, but it really only ends one of two ways.”

“And those two options are?” 

Bunnyx looks away. “Either Chat dies, or Mirror Image does. If it goes that way, we end up with a guilt-ridden, akumatized kitty situation.” She puts her hands together and mimes an explosion, which Ouroboros supposes is meant to be a crude representation of the moon.

The bottom promptly drops out of Ouroboros’s stomach, and out of her world. “I...I don’t accept that.”

“I know,” Bunnyx says, not unkindly. “But the horrible truth is that if Félix gets akumatized into Mirror Image, he becomes Chat’s bane - someone isn’t going to make it out of that fight alive, and it’s too late to stop it now.” 

“What about me?” Ouroboros demands. “Why can’t I do anything?”

“You’ve lived it, you saw it first hand. His powers mess you guys up, and there’s just no way you can move fast enough between realizing what’s going to happen and Chat using Cataclysm to physically stop him. And this,” Bunnyx gestures to her, “is already a mess.” 

They’re silent for a moment. Ouroboros’s chest heaves while Bunnyx waits. Then, Ouroboros speaks again. “You said I made a choice that’s going to have consequences. If that’s why you’re here, why didn’t you stop me when I made the choice to be akumatized?”

“Because that choice, while wild as hell, is not ultimately the choice I’m talking about. You made it just now before I showed up. Or, well. You’re about to make it, soon enough.” Bunnyx waves a hand. “Minutes, seconds. It’s all semantics, really.” 

Ouroboros didn’t think so. The most memorable things happened in a matter of moments - a shared smile, a turn of luck, a broken heart. The whole world could change in seconds when a life ended and a choice was made.

“You said it wasn’t set in stone,” Ouroboros says, lifting her determined gaze to meet Bunnyx’s. “I’m going to find a way to save him. You have to let me try.” 

Bunnyx stares back. There’s a beat, then another, before she sighs. “I guess if anyone can, it would be you.”

Ouroboros blinks. The clocktower chimes the hour, and her heart pounds hard against the cage of her ribs. Somewhere in Paris, Ladybug is waiting. Somewhere below, in the crowd, Chat Noir is trying to get away. She knows, she knows, but seeing it is a different thing entirely, and she has to get back to Adrien, to know for sure - “You’re not going to try to stop me?” 

Bunnyx already has one foot inside her burrow. She offers a jaunty two-fingered salute. “Let’s see if you can rewrite fate, Minibug. Good luck.”

With that, the vortex swallows her whole, and Ouroboros feels it even more keenly - the slipping of time as it begins to run out.

 *****

She starts running.

At twenty-two minutes past, Chat Noir will make it to where Ladybug is waiting. They will race to Trocadéro, where she will almost tell him her name before the Akuma attack interrupts. By the clamor of the next bell, he’ll be gone.

She has less than an hour to change history.

Ouroboros glances up at the dusk-glooming sky, finds the outline of the waxing moon, and figures she’s managed harder feats than this.

A round, smooth object, hefty for its size, materializes in the palm of her hand. When she glances down, she frowns at it - a pocket watch, vintage and peculiar - but when she focuses on the time, it tells her she doesn’t have much left to spare for pondering at the form it took.

Adrien and his group have not made it far from where Ouroboros let them out of her sight. Every few minutes, he casts his eyes around, looking increasingly desperate. She can sympathize. The busy square alone would be a nightmare for transforming, to say nothing of having to escape Nathalie and his bodyguard’s watchful stare. With every passing moment, Adrien grows twitchier. That could be enough of a confirmation.

Still, she knows a part of her will never believe it until she sees.

An opportunity rises when Nathalie’s phone rings, right as their bodyguard steps away to grunt an order to a café worker. Adrien takes the chance to slip away, into the crowd. 

Félix follows him.

Ouroboros tries to draw close enough to hear without sacrificing her vantage point. This is it, she thinks.

In moments, they’ll go their separate ways - Chat to find her, and Félix to the waiting wings of an Akuma. Whatever it is they say to each other, it’s the final catalyst. 

She wants to know if it was worth it.

It’s a morbid wish, and ultimately one the universe does not grant her. All she’s left with is the frown on Adrien’s face and the sneer on Félix’s. Adrien turns away from him, the line of his shoulders tight. He misses the way bitter resentment twists Félix’s face.

She can’t imagine anything Adrien could say that would warrant such anger from his cousin, but she supposes that’s not the point. In the end, it doesn’t matter; it couldn’t be anything worth the cost.

With a final scowl, Félix goes in the opposite direction, while Adrien retreats further into the spaces between buildings. Ouroboros shadows his steps until he finds an alley away from prying eyes.

Her heart starts pounding a vicious rhythm.

She watches, numb, as Plagg zips out of his shirt, a little black blur, and disappears into the ring on Adrien’s right hand. When the green flash of magic fades and Chat Noir stands in his place, there’s no triumph of a theory proven or a curiosity satisfied. There’s only another splintering crack to a heart made of glass.

They wasted so much time chasing each other in circles.

It makes sense now, why for years she could never confess her feelings to Adrien, just as she struggled to share the truth with Chat Noir. Deep down, she’d known in her heart what her head hadn't - she couldn’t do him the injustice of loving in half-measures. 

She can see the whole picture, now: a lonely boy, intoxicated by the sips of freedom that his Miraculous grants him, stuck under the thumb of a father who cares very little and values his life even less. A broken boy who chose to be a hero, who makes that choice again with every passing day. One who loves loudly and fearlessly, and values her so highly that he’d throw his own life away in the blink of an eye. 

Tomorrow, Ouroboros thinks, swiping away an angry, errant tear. Tomorrow, when this was over and resolved, her partner would begin to learn his worth.

He’ll know, without a doubt, that he’s loved.

 *****

As horrible as the circumstances are, it feels like a gift to see herself this way. She and Chat make a pretty picture as they fly through the darkening blue sky and leave laughter in their wake, just as they do back to back, taking a moment alone to breathe.

A glance at the watch tells her there’s no more time for regrets. She could ache over the time they wasted until her heart gave out, or she could focus on beating the clock and saving him.

It begins any minute now.

When civilians start screaming and Chat Noir and Ladybug spring apart, Ouroboros takes a deep breath and moves. The heroes drop down into the street, and she scales the building closest to the one that provides the setting for their fatal face-off.

Her mind races in time with her frantic heartbeats. She holds out a hand, a silent plea for help - for anything that will help her change the course of this fight.

A dark red recurve bow comes to life in her grasp, bringing with it two slender, black arrows.

She offers a grim smile. One shot, and one second chance.

She’s never shot a bow before, but Tikki must know what she’s doing. Luck, she thinks, wouldn’t dare fail them again.

Ouroboros lifts a hand to her face. She presses a kiss first to Chat’s ruined ring, then to the darkened charm strung above it, and waits. 

When Chat chases Mirror Image up onto the rooftop, Ladybug on his heels, she studies the Akuma the way she hadn’t had a chance to before. He’s barely visible, but the setting sun glints off of something metallic where a pocket might be.

A pocket watch.

She wings a silent thanks to Tikki and a prayer along with it. They’re down to seconds, now.

When Ladybug reaches for her yoyo, Ouroboros lines up her shot and draws the bowstring back until her fingers brush her own cheek. She breathes in and lets her first arrow fly free on the exhale. 

The arrow snags Mirror Image’s pocket, tears the watch free, and pins it out of reach. It dangles from its chain; snared, but not broken.

Ouroboros curses under her breath.

All movement below stops for just a second like someone’s pressed pause, before they resume once more. Her distraction was enough, though - Ladybug calls for her Lucky Charm, and without Mirror Image right in front of her to stop it, the hand mirror she receives is red and black spotted, as it should be.

Mirror Image moves next, his focus on Ladybug. Ouroboros watches Chat’s face change into something fierce and determined and thinks of action where once, she’d been frozen instead.

Someone, she remembers, isn’t making it out of this fight alive.

So she touches a hand to the Miraculous around her wrist and does what she couldn’t, before: she slows the passing seconds down and moves, throwing herself into the open sky. 

As Ouroboros falls, she lines up her next shot and thinks again of what makes up a person - of skin and bone and sinew, of expanding lungs and pounding blood, the impossible, miraculous measure of being alive. She thinks of hard choices and sunbeam smiles, of a stubborn heart, strung together by wild hope and unwavering faith in her partner.

He calls for his Cataclysm right before he sees her. In slow motion, she can see the way his eyes fly wide, how his brow furrows beneath his mask. She looses her last arrow and lets the bow fall, then holds out her hand.

I’m sorry, Chat. He’ll not make it out of this battle unscarred, she realizes. None of them will. 

But he’ll live, and she’ll be there to hold him up through the storm that will follow. 

Her arrow hits its target, this time. The pocket watch shatters, and Ouroboros drops in between the hero and Akuma. She catches Chat’s smoking hand in hers before it can make contact with the fading mirror, or Félix on his knees behind it. 

Cataclysm is a cold sort of burn, Ouroboros learns. She gasps at the ice in her fingers and toes as something in her chest catches fire. She shuts her eyes against the pain and thinks again of where the light goes when the night inevitably comes to claim it. Then, she forces her eyes open and finds it, in glowing green eyes.