#what the FUCK was the original scene then?!? strap sucking!? what could it have possibly been!?

[shortkingvi]

they’re saying the original caitvi sex scene was dialed down for release because the showrunners got in trouble… show it to me rachel send it to me PLEASE

[blindingdutchy]

The filming scene In part 1 of pornstar!tom where he’s tied up and you take the blindfold off and his eyes are all blurry and unfocused go me thinking:

Imagine the video went viral and people started asking for more sub!tom so they get you to do it again but with more edging, so you’re sitting there, tom is tied up and gaged and you’ve been edging him for the past half hour but he’s not used to being the sub so he’s crying cuz he just wants to cum so bad and everyone thinks he’s just really good at acting but you know he’s crying for real. So when the scene is done you untie him and remove the gag, and the directors are telling you to come see how good it looks but you’re too busy making sure Tom is okay, and he’s so tired that he’s falling asleep on you😍🤤

i am such a submissive person this was genuinely difficult for me to write, but i think i got somewhere 😅possibly not even a request, but i was inspired and wanted to challenge myself

read switch here!

cry baby | t.holland

{pornstar!tom x pornstar!reader}

word count: 2,254

warnings: smut ofc

warnings: sub!tom, oral (m receiving), bondage, blindfold, spit play, edging/orgasm denial

You never thought you’d have ended up here again. But, your video with Tom had reached heights you’d never achieved before, and the fans were eating it up. They wanted more—and to your surprise, so did Tom.

Now, as he laid in much the same position he had in the original video, you were starting to understand why. He was flat on his back with all four limbs stretched out and fastened to the bedposts with thick black rope. His chest was heaving, his lips parted in fast paced pants as he watched you with intrigue—he knew what was to come.

“Are you ready, baby boy?” you cooed, stroking his cheek with your thumb. Tom’s eyes fluttered at the caress, brown irises blown wide with lust and desperation, and he whined airily. The black blindfold shielded you from his longing stares, and he lifted his head a little too eagerly so that you could slip the strap around his head.

Already he had suffered through the torture of your hands, his body flushed from agonizing minutes spent with your hands stroking his cock hard and fast just to rip his orgasm away from him. The sound of his pleas and cries still echoed in your ears, a familiar pang throbbing in your core as you remembered the way he sobbed your name on the third denial. For being such a dominant man, Tom was incredibly good at being submissive.

This time, though, you were skipping the gag. You wanted to hear all the little noises Tom could make, to hear all the words that spilled from his lips as he yearned so achingly for your touch. Trailing your fingers down his chest, you murmured, “What do you want, hm? Want my hands again?”

He shivered, a stuttered gasp escaping his mouth as you swirled your thumb around his nipple. The little bud hardened instantly, standing tall and stiff from the stimulation. “I—I want your mouth, Miss.” he whispered, and you smiled.

“You know what you have to do,” you tutted.

Tom’s lips were trembling as you crawled onto the bed, perching on your knees between his thighs, and he pleaded weakly, “P-please! I want your mouth, Miss, want it so bad.” His hips bucked wildly as your hands delicately caressed the skin of his inner thighs, and you admired the trail of goosebumps that erupted in their path. He was always so reactive, and it made your belly twist up in knots.

Seeing him there, entire body physically quivering for you to just do something, the world around you faded away. No longer did you care about the cameras trained upon you, and the faint sounds created by the crew vanished into white noise—it was just you and Tom. His legs were straining against the rope that tied them down, flexing and tensing as he tried his hardest to chase the hands that touched them.

Humming, your hands dragged up his thighs to rest on his hips. Thumbs dipping into the rippled lines of muscle that descended from his abdomen to his center, the length of his cock was reddened and leaking as it rested on his heaving stomach. Tom’s breathing picked up a notch as you teased the skin with a feather light touch, the area bare and smooth; he liked to keep things groomed for filming.

“Do you think you deserve my mouth, baby?”

Tom gasped when your hand closed around his length, stroking soft and slow pumps with almost no pressure at all. “Yes, I’ve been a good boy, Miss! I’ll—I’ll be so good for you!” he pleaded, voice hoarse, and you smirked at the way his head rolled around helplessly. “Please, Miss!”

Pulling at his length with more conviction, you relished in the strangled cry of relief he gave. “Don’t cum until I say so, understand?” you commanded, tone heavy with warning, and he nodded with a choked moan.

The sounds Tom made when your lips finally wrapped around his tip, lapping greedily at the pre-cum that was beaded on his slit, were purely animalistic. Carnal shouts of ecstasy and relief, his mouth hanging wide as he tugged relentlessly on his restraints. Each noise, each cry and plea for you to take him further, spurred you on. Your lips wrapped around him tighter, your cheeks hollowing as you sucked harder, and you flattened your tongue to take more of him.

Tears welled in your eyes when you pushed the tip of your nose into his pelvis, his length buried deep in your throat and choking you. “Oh, fuck!” he cried out, hips bucking wildly off the bed, and you gagged roughly around him. The noise of your wet, sloppy cough around his length paired with the sensation of your throat constricting had him trembling beneath you.

“Miss, ‘m gonna cum,” Tom panted. His voice was broken and cracked, his throat undoubtedly worn out from the guttural sounds that had ripped it apart. You hummed around him before pulling away with a grin, loving the way his hips chased after you sloppily. “I—why did you stop?” he groaned, lips puffing up in a tiny pout.

You tutted, swirling your thumb lazily around his tip and licking the vein that ran along his shaft. There was nothing more you wanted in that moment than to strip your costume off and slide into his lap, but the video didn’t call for that. This time around the focus was all on Tom, endless edging and denial for the panting man on the bed.

As his breathing finally slowed, the erratic rise and fall of his chest deepening with his steadier inhales and exhales, you dipped closer once more. Almost instantaneously he stiffened, cock twitching in your hand expectantly, and you smirked at how needy he was. Now, after all the times you and Tom had slept together, it made you feel good to finally be in control. It felt good to be the one delving out the excruciating push and pull, dangling him right at the precipice of ecstasy only to drag him away before he could fall.

So, maybe you were being a little vindictive when you sucked his weeping tip between your lips and curled your tongue around it just like you knew he loved. When Tom was in control he rarely gave you the chance to truly treat him well; most often he’d be holding your head and choking the life out of you as he thrust to his heart’s content. But now? Now you were setting the pace, calling the shots, and damn if you weren’t going to make him fucking cry.

Already he was whimpering pathetically, his breathing jagged and voice hoarse as he continually vocalized his need for you. His entire body was glistening with a light sheen of sweat and oil, the latter courtesy of Marlena the makeup artist, and he looked ethereal. He looked like a classical painting or sculpture, all artistically harsh edges colliding with soft flesh. The ridges of his muscle flexed and strained against his tender, slightly flushed skin, and it made your mouth water.

You pushed him to that cliff twice more, each time forcing more and more aggressive pleas from his pretty, pink lips. Tom was growing frustrated—angry, even—and the thought of it made you excited. His jaw was tensed and ticking with every grind of his teeth, and if you’d removed the blindfold you’d surely have been met with dark, swirling pools of rage in his eyes. If there was one thing he hated, it was to be teased.

Swirling your tongue around the broad, blazing red tip of his length, you giggled when a guttural cry burst straight from his chest. There it was, you were finally getting somewhere. His body was trembling all over, knees quaking and fingers quivering, and the sound of his desperation had finally reached its peak.

“Do you want to cum, baby boy?” you murmured, lips ghosting over the ridge beneath his tip eliciting a breathy whine, “Tell me how bad you want it.”

He jerked against the restraints, snarling madly. “I’ve been so good, Miss!” he choked out, “I’ve been a good boy, please, please, please, let me—oh!”

Your nose buried in the soft flesh of his pelvis, eyes watering and throat aching as he stretched your throat out. In the blurry edges of your vision you could just barely make out the way his hands stretched against their bonds, fingers straining and clawing through the air as he fought to grasp your head like he always did. You knew he wanted to move you, to thrust in and out of you at whatever pace he desired, but you had no intentions of moving.

How long could you stay like that? Face buried in his abdomen, eyes dripping tears, saliva trailing down your chin as you strained around him? You wanted to find out, and a part of you also longed to know if you could push him over the edge just like this. Not moving, just letting the erratic twitch of your throat as you gagged stimulate him.

In the end, you caved first. He was muttering unintelligibly, lips moving in a flurry of words you couldn’t make out that wavered in pitch dramatically. You wished to keep going, but the persistent ache in your jaw and lungs told you that you needed to stop. You needed air, and if you tried to push through it you’d either suffocate or instinctively clamp your jaw around the intrusion—that certainly wouldn’t have been good.

As you pulled off of him again, breathing heavily and wheezing slightly as you stretched your jaw, you wondered if he remembered this was the end. The script called for you to leave him begging, pleading his life to release only to be left unfulfilled. He was still whining to himself, and you could just barely make out the hoarse whisper, “I’ll fucking die if you don’t let me cum, please, Miss.”

You were still stroking him slowly with your hand as you sat up, your back aching slightly at the stretch. “Don’t be so dramatic,” you teased, and he growled under his breathe, “I don’t like your attitude right now, baby boy.”

He bared his teeth in a feral grimace, jaw tight and unwavering as he jerked against the ropes violently. “I want to cum!” he whined, voice cracking and slurred despite his demanding tone.

“Is that so?” you pouted, teasing the small slit of his tip playfully, “Well, it’s too bad I don’t really care what you want.”

With that, you got up and climbed off the bed as his length fell back onto his stomach with a dull smack. He hissed at the loss of contact and fought hard to chase after you, only to growl when he remained stuck. You admired the slick sheen that coated his body and the way his cock had gone a deeper shade of red, probably throbbing to the point of near agony from all of your edging.

“Cut!”

You swallowed down the swelling lump in your throat as you approached Tom timidly. The cameras were no longer rolling, his time playing the role of a submissive man over, and already you were shivering over what you’d certainly be facing later that night. What you hadn’t expected, though, was to find genuine tears streaming down his cheeks as you removed the blindfold.

The black garment was soaked with them, and you gaped at the red rim of his eyes and the inflamed ring around his nostrils. His brown eyes were unfocused and dazed as he looked at you, still watering as he blinked up at the sudden light, and your heart thudded pitifully against your ribcage. He was crying.

He was crying, and you didn’t know whether to feel guilty or scared. “Tommy?” you whispered, chewing on your lower lip as you stroked his sweaty curls from his face, “Are you okay?”

Tom’s head lulled into your touch, and he sniffled as he blinked up at you. “Yeah, ‘m good,” he croaked, “but you won’t be later.” His threat wasn’t all that intimidating as his eyes drooped, brown eyes clouded with exhaustion and lingering remnants of desperation. You brushed aside the feelings of nervous anticipation that stirred in the pit of your belly—that could wait.

All you cared about was untying Tom and maybe finishing what you’d started in your dressing room, though you were pretty sure he was too tired to go on. His eyelashes were fluttering as he fought to keep them open, and the sight was so heartwarmingly adorable that you couldn’t help but to coo at him. He pouted when you kissed his cheek, smacking his lips at you, “You missed, darling.” Rolling your eyes with a giggle, you pecked his lips and smiled at the pleased sigh that fanned your face.

All around you, you could hear the crew mumbling words of praise, all raving over Tom’s impeccable acting. “Damn, he should be in movies or something!” one man gaped, “(Y/N), come have a look!”

“Later,” you called back, “I’m busy.” Tom murmured sleepily, his head rolling deeper into the pillows, and you pondered to yourself how you were going to get him off the bed. A quiet snore perked your ears and you shook your head—for a man with so much stamina in the bedroom, he sure was beat from a little edging.

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

But You Can Never Leave [Chapter 11: The Rush]

Chapter summary: Queen and Y/N attend a party and experiment with hallucinogens.

This series is a work of fiction, and is (very) loosely inspired by real people and events. Absolutely no offense is meant to actual Queen or their families.

Song inspiration: Hotel California by The Eagles.

Chapter warnings: Language, drugs, partying, injuries, sexual references, angst, some baby stuff.

Chapter list (and all my writing) available HERE

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii​ @loveandbeloved29​ @killer-queen-xo​ @maggieroseevans​ @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark​ @im-an-adult-ish​ @queenlover05​ @someforeigntragedy​ @imtheinvisiblequeen​ @joemazzmatazz​ @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye​ @namelesslosers​ @inthegardensofourminds​ @deacyblues​ @youngpastafanmug​ @sleepretreat​ @hardyshoe​ @bramblesforbreakfast​ @sevenseasofcats​ @tensecondvacation​ @queen-crue​ @jennyggggrrr​ @madeinheavxn​ @whatgoeson-itslate​ @brianssixpence​ @simonedk​ @herewegoagainniall​ @stardust-killer-queen​

Please yell at me if I forget to tag you! :)

“You’re trying to make us late, aren’t you?”

Roger looms in the doorway of the hotel bathroom, arms crossed, a baiting ghost of a smile on his lips. His eyes—blue like a summer sky, like blooming delphiniums, like veins beneath skin—trace you from your black heels to your dangling diamond earrings, feasting, craving.

You smile back at him as you rearrange your hair for the fourth time. “The later we are, the drunker everyone else will be and the less agonizing small talk I’ll be forced to make with random music industry people.”

“I can assure you, they’re already drunk.”

“I don’t want to get there before the boys.” Freddie and Brian had left the hotel earlier to pregame in the bars of the French Quarter, and John is...actually, you don’t know where John is at the moment, which is unusual.

Roger chuckles, lights a cigarette, takes a deep drag as he gazes at you. “Come on, baby. You’re not getting any more stunning. It’s not possible. And you don’t want Deaks to be the first one to get there, do you? Can you imagine? He’ll end up telling his life story to the golden retriever or locking himself in a closet or something. We can’t abandon him.”

“No, of course not.” You give your reflection one final appraising glance. It’s not bad: sleek black dress, black Prada bag with a thin diamond-studded shoulder strap, smokey eyes, spritzes of Chanel No. 5. It’s pretty freaking great, actually.

Roger nods to your purse. “You got your kit, Nurse Nightingale?”

“Naturally. You think I trust eccentric and impaired musicians not to do gymnastics down a staircase or punch out misbehaving fellow guests? Oh no. Not a chance. I come well prepared.”

“Good.” Reflexively, unconsciously, he shakes his right arm a few times, stretches the hand, winces. It hurts him all the time, and you know that even if he’ll never say it. He drinks more or less constantly when Queen is on tour, and pops pills on top of that. You can’t ask him to stop; he can’t play without the booze and pills, and he can’t live without the band. He wouldn’t even want to try.

“Roger, is it—”

“I’m fine.” His eyes are on you again, everywhere, soaking up every curve and crevice like rain seeping through parched earth. Dusty ashes trickle from his cigarette onto the white tile floor.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he says, meditative in a way that is quiet and still and very unlike Roger. “Just thinking.”

“About what?”

He shrugs nonchalantly. “How much I love you.”

~~~~~~~~~~

New Orleans is cool and humid and the streetlights shine beneath the constellations of the night sky: Auriga, Cassiopeia, Ursa Minor, Orion, Perseus. The salt-tinged dampness in the air sticks to your bare forearms, your ankles, your collarbones, your cheeks; the chaotic ocean wind rolls in off the Gulf of Mexico. It’s February 14th of 1977, Valentine’s Day, a day you’ve always thought of as a sort of anniversary for you and Roger; not the day you told him yes, but the day you surrendered to the eventuality, the day you agreed to fall in love with the world he promised you.

Is surrender the right word? you wonder, because part of you doesn’t like it, part of you flinches like you’ve been hit. Yes, it is. Whether I like it or not.

You’ve never spoken of anniversaries to Roger. He’s never asked.

The mansion, a Southern-style manor with columns and fountains in the front yard, is raucous with music and trimmed with twinkling white lights; there are dozens of people—men in suits, women in gowns, strippers, drag queens, mistresses, wives, acrobats, magicians, drug dealers—mingling on the wrap-around porch, sipping drinks, shouting at each other over the music, snatching appetizers off platters that waiters balance on their shoulders as they weave from one end of the house to the other. You and Roger swim through the crowd towards Brian’s mass of dark curls and Freddie’s brash laughter that carries through the night air like smoke signals.

Some man in a lavender suit—a producer or manager or record company executive—is talking to Freddie and Brian with a cigar smoldering between his fingers. “...And it’s extraordinary, really, this new album, everyone’s talking about what a success the tour has been so far. What’s it called again?”

“A Day At The Races,” Brian offers matter-of-factly, as if he’s in a business meeting.

“Ah, that’s it!”

“What’s so interesting,” Bri continues, “is that this time around the audience has started really getting into it, singing along to almost every song, sometimes we can’t even hear ourselves! And at first we were a bit annoyed by it—”

Freddie adds: “We were thinking, ‘shut up, bitches, you paid to hear us sing!’”

“—But then we realized that we should be appreciating that enthusiasm, that maybe we could even figure out a way to harness that energy and write songs with the audience’s participation in mind.”

“Fascinating!” Lavender Suit Guy replies.

“Good evening, everyone!” Roger announces as he sails into the middle of the conversation. “Hey man, how are you? Enjoying yourself? Have you met Y/N? Yes, she’s a Yankee just like you, from Boston originally, and she can cure hangovers like nobody’s business so she’s incredibly handy to have around. Have you heard the new Eagles record yet? Jesus christ, it’s bloody brilliant...”

As they chatter, you scan the pulsing throng of strangers for John. After a moment—as Freddie is recounting the band’s escapades in Miami last week—he appears wearing a black leather jacket and hair that barely covers his ears.

“Deaky!” Fred gasps.

“John!” you squeal in delight, and he grins enormously as he wraps you in a hug. He smells like cigarettes and Manhattans and that verdant, ancient mystery of the American South.

“Hi,” he says sheepishly.

“Your hair...?!” You reach up to run your hands through it, to flip his bangs one way and then the other, to tug gently on the ends. “I’m in shock. Good shock, but definitely shock.”

“Yeah, some American girl told me once that I had good bone structure and should chop my hair off someday so people could appreciate it.”

“Hmm, who could that be?” Roger teases, turning to you.

“I believe I described the aforementioned bone structure as fantastic, not good, but close enough.” You can’t stop staring at John. You blink a few times, waiting for it to sink in. Instead, something feels unnerving in a way you can’t pin down: new, different, anomalous, inviting.

“You’ve all gone shorter, haven’t you?” Lavender Suit Guy remarks. “Well...except Brian, of course.”

“He had much shorter hair once, if you can believe it,” Freddie says. “Back in the very early days. Before John joined us. Bri would straighten it too, it was horrid, the poor man looked like a Lhasa Apso.”

“You have a new baby at home, don’t you?” Lavender Suit Guy asks John.

“I do, yes, my second. A wonderful little girl named Anna.”

“Congratulations! And Brian, you’ve got one on the way as well?”

Brian smiles proudly. “Two, actually.” Chrissie has curbed her comments concerning Veronica’s dreadfully banal, domestic, decidedly unposh existence now that Chris is bedridden with morning sickness and carrying twins. ‘I feel like the fucking Hindenburg,’ she’d told you over the phone. ‘If the Hindenburg had sore tits and smelled like vomit.’

“We’re drowning in babies,” Roger quips in a tone you can’t quite read. Annoyance? Curiosity? Disapproval? Envy?

“Well, since the wives are away and you’re free to play...” Lavender Suit Guy flags down a waiter holding a small tray of sugar cubes. “Ever dropped acid? There’s blow floating around somewhere too, if that’s more your scene.”

Brian smirks uneasily and stirs his Vesper. You look to John. John looks to Roger.

Freddie laughs and lifts a sugar cube daintily off the tray with his thumb and index finger. “Marvelous, darling! Will it make me hallucinate all my wildest dreams? Will an imaginary cheerleading squad of Farrah Fawcetts suck my cock all night?”

Lavender Suit Guy chuckles. “I make no guarantees.”

“Nothing in life ever does. Isn’t that tragic?” Freddie pops the sugar cube into his mouth and grins. “Beam me up, Scotty.”

Roger asks you: “You want to? It could be an adventure.”

LSD wasn’t exactly the adventure you’d had in mind when you agreed to follow Queen across the globe all those years ago in Boston; still, an adventure is an adventure. And if I don’t keep things interesting, he’ll find someone who will.

Oh, that’s not a thought you knew you had.

And I would like to return it to that repressed, dimly-lit, cobwebbed corner of my subconscious where I’d buried it, thank you very much.

“Is it safe?” John asks Lavender Suit Guy.

“Do you think I’d give you something that wasn’t safe? It’s perfectly safe. It can’t kill you. It’s not heroin. Worst case scenario you get a bad trip. And I’ve never gotten a bad trip from this stuff.”

You conjure up a smile for Roger. “Let’s do it.”

“Excellent,” he says, his face lighting up; and you realize that that’s what he’d wanted. He picks up a sugar cube, lays it on his tongue, and then slips it between your lips as he kisses you. Freddie whistles and claps. The cube dissolves with a pleasant, innocent, nostalgic sweetness. Then Roger turns to John. “You in, Deaks?”

John hesitates, then nods. “Alright.”

Roger passes John a sugar cube (with his hand this time), picks up one for himself, and toasts them like champagne glasses. “Cheers!” The sugar cubes disappear behind their teeth.

Freddie stares at Brian. Brian gnaws his lip and stares back. Freddie wiggles his eyebrows impishly. Finally, Bri sighs, exasperated. “Fine, okay, what the hell, I’ll do it.”

“I’m so proud!” Freddie cries, pressing his palm to his heart. “I am a proud mama.” Brian grimaces as Fred stuffs a sugar cube into his mouth.

“How long does it take to work?” you ask Lavender Suit Guy, feeling no different at all.

“It varies. Not too long, usually.” He whirls, spies someone else he recognizes, waves, and rushes off to greet whoever it is and presumably offer them illegal drugs.

After fifteen disappointingly uneventful minutes of trailing behind the band as they chat with various rich and famous party guests you don’t recognize, you depart to find a restroom.

“Don’t be gone long,” Rog calls after you. John watches with a Manhattan in his right hand. “I don’t want you to be alone if things get...you know...weird.”

“Sure thing.”

You find a small restroom just off the downstairs hallway of the mansion. The clock above the doorframe reads 9:47 p.m. You duck inside, muttering about your first acid experience being a total dud, about defective LSD and Valentine’s Days spent with strangers. As you scrub your hands with rose-scented soap, you glance up to check your makeup in the mirror. Your face isn’t there. Instead, Dominique Beyrand stares back at you.

You gasp, and Dom does too, in that delicate and prodigiously feminine way that she has. You peer penetratingly into the mirror as you gingerly tap your fingertips against your face, which is Dominique’s face now: her olive skin, her high pump cheeks, her large dark eyes like a doe’s, her pink lips. You experiment with a smile, and then a frown; you even emote the same way she does, with a charming candidness, with a rare sort of grace.

Why am I thinking about Dominique?

You’d seen her a few times since Queen’s Hyde Park concert, following Richard Branson around at industry parties and dodging mindless gossip and tedious networking, the same as you. She always greeted Freddie warmly and mostly ignored Roger. He always asked her a few questions anyway, questions you thought he already knew the answers to.

I guess the acid wasn’t a dud after all.

You titter uncertainly. You knot your fingers through your hair—Dominique’s hair—which is thick and glossy and onyx. Her eyes gaze unflinchingly back at you. They blink when you blink.

I have to find Roger, you think suddenly. I don’t know where he is. I don’t know who he’s with.

You spin, wrench open the restroom door, and stagger out into the hallway, your hands pressed against the floral wallpaper to steady yourself. The yellowed, antebellum walls breathe as you do, subtly, sighing as they exhale cool air into the soft clammy skin of your palms. The boards of the hardwood floor clang like piano keys when you step on them. You check the clock hanging above the bathroom door. It reads: 11:09 p.m.

“Uh oh.”

I have to find Roger.

You creep through the hallway as other guests pass you—some zooming by, others moving in slow motion as if they’re treading water, none apparently noticing the breathing walls or musical floor—peeking into each room to see if Roger is there. He’s not in the living room, the kitchen, the dining room, the parlor. Instead there are strangers in all of these places, laughing in each other’s arms, drinking, dancing, touching each other beneath suits and skirts and dresses, smoking cigarettes and blunts, rolling up hundred-dollar bills to snort white powder off silver trays like mirrors.

I have to find Roger. I have to find Roger. I have to find Roger.

In the backyard of the mansion is a cobblestone patio, a garden, a swimming pool which must be freezing but nevertheless has several naked guests thrashing around splashing each other in it, and a bubbling hot tub. You recognize one of the two people in the cloud of mist with their arms resting above the roiling water on the concrete rim. They’re giggling and pointing up at the stars, telling the stories of the constellations, their faces flushed and glistening with steam.

“Hi, Brian!” you cry, relieved.

He turns, sees you, summons a smile; but it’s not a true smile. It’s cagey, it’s dissatisfied, it’s nervous somehow. “Ah, there you are, love.” The girl sitting next to him in the sweltering water is very much his type and entirely unlike Chrissie: tall, slim, blonde, curly-haired. She has a tattoo of a lush, pristine peach on one tanned shoulder blade.

“Have you seen Roger?”

Brian’s brow furrows. “He didn’t find you?”

“Evidently, he did not.”

“Huh. Well, I’m sure he’s around.” Brian waits for you to leave. The blonde girl shoots you a polite but anxious smile. Peaches, you think hazily. Peaches from New Orleans. Just like the girl he told me about when I first arrived in London. Just like the girl in Now I’m Here.

“Bri, come inside with me.”

“I’m fine here,” he replies curtly.

“Bri, please. It’s late. It’s cold. We’re so far from home. There could be sharks.”

Peaches gawps at me, confounded. “Don’t be ridiculous,” Brian snorts. “Sharks can only live in cool water. Everybody knows that. We’re perfectly safe. Stay out of the pool though.”

“Oh. Right. Of course.”

“Good luck locating Roger.” That’s your cue to go.

“Come with me. I’m freaked out. The floor sounds like Somebody To Love.”

“That’s nothing. The bubbles in here play Beatles songs when they pop.”

“Brian...”

“Y/N,” he says harshly, darkly. “Go find Roger.” What he means is: Y/N, get lost.

What about your wife? you almost shriek at him. What about your children? What about those vows that you made three days before Christmas in 1975, the specter of global fame beckoning from the doorway of the Anglican church that Chrissie grew up attending, Roger’s arm tight around my waist and sprigs of holly in my hair?

But Brian already knows about all that, and he doesn’t care.

I have to find Roger.

You leave Brian and Peaches and slip back into the mansion. You search each room as the floorboards shift and chime beneath your feet; now they’re playing the intro to Seven Seas Of Rhye. You realize that you’ve lost your heels somewhere along the way. You aren’t terribly concerned; you have more pressing matters to attend to.

Behind the fourth door you open is a library with books and menacing portraits lining the walls. Everything inside is blue and wibbly and palpably sad. Freddie is slumped on the floor next to a grand piano, his hair in his face, each hand clutching a full champagne flute.

“Darling,” he slurs, thrusting a glass towards you. Fizzy champagne lurches over the edge and trickles down the side of the glass. “Come join me!”

“Is it the LSD or is the room actually that color? I feel like I’m trapped in Picasso’s Blue Period.”

“Do you? It’s all black and white to me. But blue fits. Welcome to my melancholy room.”

“Your melancholy blues,” you pitch with a grin.

Freddie chuckles. “Drink this champagne before I’m forced to pour it down your throat.”

You take the flute and sit on the floor beside him. “Have you seen Roger?”

“I have not.”

“Oh.”

“Darling,” Freddie asks drowsily. “Do you think one goes to hell for being gay?”

“I don’t think you’d go to hell for anything, Fred. You’re too good a person.”

“Ahhhh,” he sighs, dreamily, peacefully. “You are a delight, my dear. Truly. I adore having you around. I do hope you stay with us, even when Roger makes you want to kill yourself.”

“How would he do that, Fred?” you ask softly.

Freddie doesn’t answer. Instead, he lifts your hair away from your face, tucks it behind your ear, smiles patiently at you. “I tried to warn you, you know. We all did. I know you thought we were all being insufferable pricks. But we did it out of love.”

“John never tried to warn me.”

Freddie smirks. “Well. He’s got his own demons, doesn’t he?”

You aren’t sure what Freddie means. You down the champagne and climb unsteadily to your feet. “I have to go find Roger now.”

“Of course you do.” Freddie’s umber eyes flick to the ceiling. “Good god, there are birds up there. That is not sanitary. Leave the door open when you go so they can fly away, would you dear?”

“Okay. I’ll love you no matter who you are, Freddie. We all will. You don’t need to worry about that.”

“Thank you, darling.”

“Will you come with me? Will you help me? I’m worried about Roger.”

“You should be more worried about you.” Freddie waves goodbye. “I have to stay. I’m writing songs.”

“You don’t have a paper and pen, Fred. Do you need them?”

He grins and pokes his temple with a black fingernail. “It’s all up here.”

“Okay. See you around.”

“Au revoir,” Freddie replies, and closes his eyes as he leans back against a breathing wall.

You step out into the hallway and journey towards the main staircase. Someone has put on the new Eagles record; Hotel California rocks deafeningly through the mansion. The air quivers with slow, ghostly notes strummed on an acoustic guitar. The floorboards have abandoned their piano keys and now jolt with each drumbeat. The house has taken on a shadowy, violet hue.

“There she stood in the doorway

I heard the mission bell

And I was thinking to myself

This could be heaven or this could be hell...”

You clutch the banister as you ascend, studying each guest that passes you for a familiar face. There are none. They’re all blushing and glassy-eyed and cackling as they paw at each other, ignoring you, not seeing you at all. Emerald snakes dart between their rushing feet, forked tongues tasting the lust and impending amnesia in the air. What happens in the darkness tonight will be forgotten tomorrow. It has to be. All the world’s rules and obligations depend upon it.

“Her mind is Tiffany-twisted

She got the Mercedes Benz

She got a lot of pretty, pretty boys

That she calls friends

How they dance in the courtyard

Sweet summer sweat

Some dance to remember

Some dance to forget...”

You catch your reflection in the night-draped window halfway up the staircase. You’re you again, not Dominique. Part of you is comforted by that; part of you feels more alone than ever. You stare at yourself, beautiful, extravagant, dusted with jewels and luck. You have everything. You have nothing. You continue up the staircase.

“Mirrors on the ceiling

The pink champagne on ice

And she said, ‘We are all just prisoners here of our own device’

And in the master's chambers

They gathered for the feast

They stab it with their steely knives

But they just can't kill the beast...”

A woman in a shimmering scarlet dress is sitting on the top step and taking a drag off a cigarette excruciatingly slowly. She exhales, the smoke curling out of her red lips like tentacles, her pale eyes tracking you.

“Last thing I remember

I was running for the door

I had to find the passage back

To the place I was before

‘Relax,’ said the night man

‘We are programmed to receive

You can check out any time you like

But you can never leave.’”

You summit the staircase and peer down the hallway to your right. At the end of it is a vast, broken picture window. Cold night wind pours in through the jagged hole in the glass; you can see stars outside. A man is lying on the floor next to the window. You know him.

“John!” you shout, and sprint to his side.

“Hi.” He’s cradling his right arm to his chest. His knuckles are shredded and drenched in crimson blood. Incandescent shards of glass protrude from his hand and glint under the lights. There’s a heavy, coppery, sick-sweet scent in the air.

“John, honey, why would you attack an innocent window...?”

“It wasn’t so innocent. You should have heard what the bastard said to me.”

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up—”

“Stop,” he hisses when you try to touch him.

“John—”

“No!” he screams, pushing your hands away. “Stop it, just leave me, just fucking leave me!”

You step back, cross your arms over your chest, raise your eyebrows impatiently. “You want to tell me who you’re really so mad at?”

He frowns down at the rug, which is streaked with his blood. “Me, I guess.”

“Well you can be mad at yourself at the hospital.”

“No, no hospital,” he insists.

“Your hand is positively mangled. Your playing hand. You need to get it cleaned out.”

“You can fix it. No one else.”

“Since I’m tripping on acid, I probably shouldn’t be the one to fish glass shards out of your skin.”

“You can fix it,” he repeats, confidently now.

“Fine. Have it your way.” You help John to his feet, lead him downstairs, and sit him down at the kitchen table. You open your purse, unpack your supplies and position them in a neat row, shake out your hands to get them limber, give John a glass of water. “Are you going to have to write whoever owns this place a check for the window?”

“No one knows I’m the one who did it. No one even knows who I am.”

“I know who you are, John. Here comes the lidocaine.” You land a series of injections into the flesh surrounding his wrist, his knuckles, the back of his hand. You pause each time you get distracted by the murmurings of the table, which apparently speaks German. Okay table, this is important, kindly shut the hell up. Danke.

“Ow,” John says lethargically.

“And so what if these people don’t know who you are? Who the fuck needs them? You don’t need anyone who doesn’t know you’re the backbone of this band. Who made the Deaky Amp? Who wrote You’re My Best Friend? Who stays focused and calmly waits for the others to stop bludgeoning each other on a nearly daily basis? John fucking Deacon, that’s who.”

“Yeah. Alright,” John agrees, smiling. “Who needs them.”

“You’re gonna get your moment in the sun, don’t you worry.” You pick up your tweezers and begin plucking slivers of glass out of John’s bloody hand, plinking each into a white ceramic bowl. “Everyone is going to know you one day. You’re gonna spread your wings and write a ton of hits and unforgettable basslines and show the world what a genius you are.”

“Sounds thrilling. I’ll see what I can do.” He gazes down at his hand. “It doesn’t hurt at all now, that’s incredible.”

“That’s the magic of modern medicine.” You drop another shard of glass into the bowl. “How’s your first-ever LSD experience going so far?”

“Aside from the window business, quite well. Better now that you showed up.”

“Sorry. I spent an hour being confused by my own reflection and then tried to find Roger. You haven’t seen him, have you?”

“I have not.”

After a while you set your tweezers down on the table and inspect John’s hand closely. “Does this look glass-free to you? My eyes aren’t super trustworthy at the moment. I just saw a fish swim by outside.”

“It looks perfect, in my layperson’s opinion.”

“Okay. Let’s wash and sanitize, then we’ll wrap...”

John follows you placidly to the sink, lets you scrub and towel off his hand, returns to the table so you can bandage it with gauze. It’s quieter in the house now, the guests slowly dispersing, the music turned down and something mellow by the Stones; Gimme Shelter, you think.

“What made you so angry?” you ask him. “You know. Angry enough to assault a window.”

For a long time, John doesn’t answer. He looks up at the ceiling, his gentle greyish eyes chasing something you can’t see; birds, maybe, like Freddie. Maybe he’s looking for the sun. Maybe he’s looking for himself. Finally, he says, very quietly: “I’m just so fucking tired of lying all the time.”

“You never have to lie to me, John.”

“Yeah,” he sighs. “I do.”

Then you hear a laugh, an untamed one, a familiar one. You turn to John. “Was that just me or...?”

“I heard it too.”

You both leap from the table and hurry after the sound. You burst outside onto the cobblestone patio. Roger is doing backstroke laps in the pool, howling up at the moon. There’s no sign of Brian or Peaches.

“Roger!” you yell.

“Hey, baby! I’m winning! I’m in the Olympics! I made the team! Do you see me winning?”

“You’re totally winning. Please come out before you get pneumonia or attacked by a shark.”

“Shark...?” John inquires.

“I’ve discovered something amazing,” Roger declares, still swimming. He flails his right arm in the air for you to see; the serrated mark that mars the underside appears to be slithering, a snake made of scar tissue and interrupted plans. “When you’re on drugs, nothing hurts!”

“Baby, please come out now.”

Roger obliges, hauling himself up the ladder and out of the pool. He’s still in his black suit; it’s ruined and clings to him and is dripping buckets of chlorine-smelling water. John yanks a towel off a chair and tosses it to Roger, who drapes it over his shoulders like a cape.

“Jesus christ, where have you been?!” you demand. “You almost gave me a heart attack!”

Roger grins toothily. “A sheer one?”

Despite yourself, you smile back. “Oh yeah. A sheer heart attack. Real cardiac.”

“I had the best idea. Baby, you gotta hear my great idea. It’s so great.”

“Okay, I’m listening.”

He lunges to wrap you in a cold, sopping hug. “Everyone’s having babies, right?”

“Uh, well, not everyone...”

“We should have a baby.”

John’s eyes go wide. You swallow noisily. “Roger, love, I don’t think right now is the ideal time to make a decision like that.”

“Why...? Oh. Right.”

“Yeah.”

“If I still feel this way in forty-eight hours, can we have a baby?”

“Roger, I...” You glance to John for help. He raises his hands in surrender, one bare, one clumsily bandaged. You’re on your own, kid, that look says. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. That’s a lot of responsibility. I’d have to stay home with them. I wouldn’t be the tour nurse anymore.” I would never know where you were, who you were with.

“I’ll fly you out to visit all the time. I’ll have to. I can’t do this without you.” His eyes—blue like frigid pool water, like bruises, like dreams—are euphoric, effervescent.

I can’t say no to him, you realize, and it sends a biting shudder up the rungs of your spine. I didn’t just fall in love. I took a fucking nosedive.  

Oh, this SO did not go according to plan.

You remember when you first met Queen, how independent and fearless and guarded you had been, how forcefully you had resolved not to put your happiness in a pair of wild, reckless hands like Roger’s.

What happened to that girl? How do I get her back?

And there’s something else, too: a thought you barely recognize as your own. A child would make us permanent.

John is watching you, edgy, apprehensive; but he doesn’t say anything.

“Okay,” you tell Roger. “We can try. If you still feel this way in forty-eight hours.”

“And I will.” Roger’s teeth skate up your neck and he whispers, his breath hot against the goosebumps rising on your skin: “Let me know when you’re late.”

[sapphirestarxx]

Through the Night

Chapter 3

Also posted on my AO3

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@lavendertwilight89 @hnnwnchstr @cstormsinukagblog @ravisk @superpixie42 @fawn-eyed-girl

It had been decided to meet at Sango’s apartment and from there they all would search out the location of the rune with Kagome guiding them. Kagome had said that there was an overwhelming feeling of malice coming from the point of origin...more than had been present at the abandoned ruin they had encountered a week before. While there could be no way of knowing exactly what had occurred at the previous attacks, this was undeniably worse than what they had already come across. Whatever this was it was big.

Miroku had been the first to arrive, armed with his holy staff and sutras, and waited while Sango got dressed in her demon slayer gear. Between the staggering evil Kagome was sensing and what was known about the runes, they all wanted to be prepared for the impending altercation that was sure to take place. 

He hadn’t had too many dealings with the slayers before, seeing as his line of work dealt almost entirely with the spiritual side of supernatural problems. Despite this he knew the outfit was a complicated mix of leather, armor plates at the vitals and joints, with various vials and compacts of poisons and powders tucked away into hidden spaces. While he knew in theory what the outfit consisted of he had never had the pleasure of seeing it worn in person, especially not by someone with Sango’s stunning physique.

When Sango exited her bedroom Miroku sucked in a breath at the sight. That skintight black leather that clung to her every curve...it was beyond enticing. There was something so incredibly sexy about it he couldn’t help but take in every inch of her lush form with his gaze. In that moment he knew he would let her do anything to him she wanted and he would enjoy every second of it. Even if it was just her kicking his ass.

He forced himself to drag his eyes away from her body to her face and saw she was looking at him. Something shifted in her eyes and he could tell she knew exactly where his thoughts had gone. He hadn’t exactly been subtle about checking her out but he was a man with eyes and she was exquisite. 

“I like the pink.” He told her, opting for something safer than what he was really thinking. ‘You’re fucking hot and that leather makes me want to do bad things to you.’ would probably not have gone over well. The plates of her armor were a pretty shade of rose and he wondered if it was a concession to her femininity or if it was just her favorite color.

“It’s my favorite color.” Sango admitted after a slight pause confirming his suspicions, and Miroku knew she had probably expected another one-liner out of him. “I know it sounds kind of frivolous but it makes me feel more confident on the job.”

Before he could respond there was a knock and they could both hear Inuyasha through the closed door.

“Hey! Hurry the fuck up, will ya? Let’s get going!”

“Inuyasha! Would it kill you to be a little patient?!” came Kagome’s admonishment.

Sango and Miroku shared a look at their antics, a small secret smile between the two of them before she went to the door, opening it.

“There ya are. What’s the hold up?” Inuyasha said without preamble. The beads for his human glamour were back around his neck but because they all had seen his true form it had no effect on any of them. The glamour only worked so long as a person was unaware of the reality. Once that illusion was dispelled it no longer had any effect.

Kagome was standing beside him in clothes more practical for fighting than her usual attire - jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. A bow and quiver full of arrows was slung over her right shoulder and a look of determination was on her face. Around her wrist was a bracelet that no doubt was disguising her weapons from view of the average passerby.

“We’re ready.” Sango reappeared by his side, her hair tied back in a high ponytail and he noticed the large weapon hoisted across her back, almost as tall as she was. It was in the shape of a boomerang and if he had to guess he would say it was made of demon bone, with brown leather straps at both ends to grip it. Such a weapon had to be heavy but she carried it with ease. He became impressed with her all over again.

Setting out, they followed Kagome, letting her take the lead as she focused on the location of the rune. She had explained that it gave off a feeling, almost like an aura that allowed her to trace it across the city. Finally, she stopped outside of what looked to be a condemned warehouse in the more run down part of the city just as the sun was setting.

“It’s here. I feel it.” Kagome’s voice was full of trepidation. 

Even without her words it would have been obvious. The sheer evil emanating from the place was palpable. As a whole they all readied their weapons and approached the structure, Inuyasha taking the lead. Considering he was the most resilient of the four of them no one fought him on it. The heavy metal door, rusted with disuse, swung open with a creak. 

“Inuyasha, we should be careful. We don’t know what’s waiting for us.” Miroku warned.

“You think I don’t fucking know that?” The half demon scoffed. “Besides this aint nothing I can’t handle.”

‘I wish I had that kind of confidence.’ Miroku thought, sighing.

Cautiously, they entered. Immediately upon crossing the threshold the scent of blood was unmistakable, even to Miroku’s human nose. Shafts of the remaining light of day crept forward from the busted out windows along the walls, helping to illuminate the emptiness inside. It stretched wide, the remnants of what was probably once a bustling business years ago. But the years hadn’t been kind to the place, cracked concrete and chipped paint accentuated by spots of mold and mildew. And worst of all, the decaying bodies towards the back wall, cast halfway into shadow. Underneath the stench of blood was the fetid smell of rot.

“There’s so much blood. Those bodies...” Kagome said in a slightly horrified voice.

“Yes. Likely killed by whatever demon is currently inhabiting this place.” Sango said, her expression grim.

“Where the fuck is it though?” Inuyasha growled.

As they warily made their way deeper inside Miroku’s eyes adjusted to the darkness and he suddenly noticed the thick cobwebs all around. At first he had discounted them as merely vestiges from the deterioration of the place but there were so many, the strands thicker than anything a normal spider could produce. Now that they were closer he could see the dead bodies were pale and bloated, and almost as white as the filaments of web they were cocooned tightly within. Red stained the floor around them where no doubt the victims had struggled before being overtaken by the spider demon. 

Next to the carcasses were white sacs with bulges that shifted every few seconds, ensconced in more web. There had to be at least twenty of them that Miroku could see and it made his skin crawl. They could only be one thing. Spider egg sacs. This was going to get messy.

“Spider demons. Such nasty things.” Sango commented beside him.

“Ew! Are those…?” Kagome didn’t finish the question but they could all see where her line of sight was. She had also noticed the eggs sacs and was staring at them with revulsion. 

“It’s just some fucking spiders. Big deal. I’ll squash them then hunt down the bastard that’s behind all this.” Inuyasha said with his usual bravado.

About midway into the building they still hadn’t seen any sign of the rune but it was a big place. Wherever it was, no doubt it was feeding all the negative energies straight to the person responsible for orchestrating this carnage. Blood sacrifice was the strongest source of power for black magic so Miroku was hardly surprised but it made the scene no less disturbing.

He felt something wet drip onto his shoulder and, with a bad feeling, turned his head to look. He reached up with his free hand to dip his fingers into the fluid and inspect it although he already knew. Blood mixed with some kind of clear fluid…

Sango glanced his way and noticed what he was looking at then locked eyes with him. Understanding dawned. As one they turned their eyes upward and the scene that greeted their gaze was an even worse horror.

More corpses hung from the ceiling suspended from strands of spider silk, dripping blood and what was possibly the remnants of the demon’s poison. The ceiling was covered with the largest spider web he had ever seen and right in the middle of the net was the mother spider demon. It was huge, her body glistening and black, legs splayed across her massive web. The humanoid head had a mane of black hair and was wearing an ugly sneer full of teeth, red eyes trained right on them.

“Look up! It’s on the ceiling!” Miroku called out.

Sango slung her weapon from her back, preparing to throw it while Kagome yelped and Inuyasha readied his sword. The spider demon scuttled from its perch towards the wall where the other bodies and eggs lay, moving with surprising quickness. 

Sango threw her weapon with a battle cry of, “Hiraikotsu!” and the spider demon leapt from the ceiling to the ground at the same time, narrowly avoiding it. The demon knocked it with one of its legs throwing her boomerang off course and into the egg sacs. It landed with a thud and there was the sound of the sacs ripping. Black bodies began pouring out of them.

“Shit. I had a feeling this was going to happen.” Miroku said in resignation as they watched the spider demon babies crawl towards them. There were hundreds. 

“Get them, my children!” The demon hissed as she used her legs to rend the remaining egg sacs open, and the whisper of thousands of legs and bodies scurrying around filled the air.

“Fuck, if I could use the Wind Scar this would be so damn easy.” Inuyasha griped as he leapt forward to meet the mother spider in battle. Miroku agreed; with the modernization of everything using an attack that powerful risked leveling the entire building they stood in, and possibly part of the surrounding structures. Not to mention exposing demonkind to humanity, which would have serious repercussions.

“Inuyasha!” Kagome called out, running after him while casting her gaze about, no doubt still searching for the location of the rune in the huge place.

“Miroku, we should let Inuyasha handle the mother spider and take control of the babies!” Sango called as she drew her sword, cutting a path through the demon spawns, trying to make her way to where her main weapon, Hiraikotsu, lay.

“I was about to suggest the same thing.” Miroku agreed, swinging his staff as they began to be overtaken by the massive outpouring of spider babies. Hundreds. Possibly even bordering on a thousand...the sheer number of them was overwhelming. Miroku took a moment to wonder what would have happened if they hadn’t discovered the scene...the city would have been literally overrun.

Numbers were against them, that much was becoming apparent as they fought against the press of bodies. Miroku’s shakujo burned with holy power where it struck the demons, but there were just so many. Next to him Sango was wielding her wakizashi with expert skill, her movements smooth and practiced, but for every two she cut down ten more took their place. It was never ending. He reached into the jacket he was wearing and pulled out a set of holy sutras and flung them at the demons, activating them with his spiritual powers. The move took out a considerable amount but it was like a drop in the bucket for how many they still faced.

“Miroku, cover your mouth and nose!” Sango suddenly called, and he instantly obeyed, trusting her and creating a barrier with his power to shield them. Without him noticing she had equipped her slayer mask, retrieving a vial of some kind of poison from one of her hidden pouches. She threw it down upon the ground and into the swarm before them. It shattered, releasing a blue cloud that began to spread across the demons. Where it touched the demons started to convulse and cease their movements.

Taking advantage of the momentary reprieve they rushed forward. There were still hundreds attempting to crawl and bite their way at them but they continued to move, Miroku throwing out more sutras and slamming his staff down into the fray while Sango hacked away at them. Even though the situation was serious he still wished he could take a moment to simply stop and watch her. Her movements were so fluid, like a dance of death, and it was captivating.

Just as they had almost reached their goal, the webs all around them shifted suddenly. Shooting out from behind them the strands wrapped themselves around Sango’s leg. Miroku saw it coming and attempted to break the hold with his shakujo, and while it severed part of it, the filaments burning from the holy power, they still held firm. More webs shot out and knocked him to the side. Sango attempted to cut away at the web surrounding her with her sword but more just took their place. As she was dragged upwards more encircled her arms, trapping her movements. She struggled against her bonds and they just gripped her tighter. 

“Sango!!” Miroku cried out, his heart missing a beat.

Kagome had run after Inuyasha when he leapt forward to fight the spider demon head on. Spiders sickened her but she forced herself to concentrate. This was no time to be acting scared. She had a job to do. Besides, she had Inuyasha with her. Even though his attention was being taken up by his fight with the mother spider she trusted that he was fully aware of her safety. Or at least she hoped he was. Preparing her bow with an arrow she stood by and attempted to hone her senses. Where was it…?

There.

“Inuyasha! The marking! It’s back there, on the far wall!” Kagome yelled, already on the move. Almost instinctively she knew she had to destroy it. Break the connection that had been formed between the corruption taking place here and where all that negative energy was flowing. Right now it was a conduit, feeding power to the person at the other end of the spell.

“I’m a little busy here!” Inuyasha shouted back, blocking a strike from one of its legs with his sword while flipping to dodge another one coming at him from behind. With a grunt he sliced his sword to the side and severed one of its legs, diving beneath its abdomen to slash at the vulnerable underbelly. Screaming in pain at the dismemberment, it rose up on its two back legs, the thing faster than it had any right to be, and avoided his attack. 

“Dammit!” Inuyasha cursed, rolling to his feet in one smooth move and vaulting to stand atop it just as webs shot out to surround him. They wrapped around his sword arm, cutting off his downward swing.

“Inuyasha!” Kagome stopped, taking aim with the arrow already notched onto her bow. She fired and the arrow flew true. Leaving behind a trail of pink it shot towards its target and struck right at the point where the strands were connected to Inuyasha, freeing him.

“Cutting it a little close there, don’t ya think?! You almost hit me!" He called to her as he avoided more webs.

“Except I didn't! A simple thank you would be nice!” She snapped back.

Inuyasha didn’t bother to reply as his attention was consumed again by his fight with the spider demon; so Kagome continued on her way to the rune. As a priestess she could take care of herself and clearly Inuyasha didn’t need or appreciate her help anyways. 

She was almost at the back wall where the rune was engraved into the concrete when she became aware of the sounds of scuttling behind her. Looking over her shoulder in horror and already knowing what it was, Kagome saw the demon spider babies advancing on her. With a surge of adrenaline she raced the rest of the way and reached it just as the demons reached her. In one smooth motion she grabbed an arrow from her quiver and notched it as she turned around firing, facing the onslaught. It cut a path through the swarm in front of her and she breathed a sigh of momentary relief.

Her sacred arrow didn’t stop them from coming though, and she found herself firing arrow after arrow. No matter how many she killed there were more to take the place of their dead siblings. The rune needed to be destroyed, she knew this as well as she knew her own name. Finally, with a cry of frustration she stopped in her assault and slammed her right hand onto the rune, her left hand still gripping her bow tightly. Her power flared, engulfing the bow in the pink halo of light with her spiritual power and simultaneously channeling power through herself into the rune to purify it. 

Using her bow as a focus Kagome formed a barrier around herself. Where the demons hit it they burned but that didn’t seem to stop them. They kept pressing in on her until they killed themselves, suicide by purification, and more crawled over the ashes to continue the charge.

Gritting her teeth she maintained her barrier while she turned her attention to the mark her right hand was pressed upon. Again she felt that thick oily sensation of evil coating the back of her throat and she fought against it. It almost seemed to reach within her attempting to taint her with its malevolence and Kagome only intensified her power, refusing to be corrupted. She was gaining ground, but with her focus split between the preservation of her barrier and the purification of the rune she couldn’t destroy it. This would require everything of her, and she simply wasn’t able to do that if she wanted to keep her barrier up.

‘Screw that.’ she thought, ‘I’m stronger than this. I can do this.’

“Sango!!”

Sango heard Miroku’s cry as she was lifted up by the webs wrapping more and more tightly around her. With her arms trapped she could no longer swing her wakizashi to free herself, and it hung from her hand, useless. Dammit. She hated spider demons.  

Triggering the hidden blades at her wrists, the curved knives sprung out and sliced through the strands enveloping her arms. In the same breath she pitched her weight forward and used her now-free sword arm to cut through the remaining webs that had captured her leg. No longer restrained she continued the movement into a somersault as she fell, resheathing her blades in the process. It was a long way down and she risked spraining her ankle but it was better than the alternative; become another sacrifice for the spider demon and her children.

She let out a soft oof as she landed, but it wasn’t the landing she was expecting. Instead of the shock of landing on hard concrete vibrating up her legs as her feet struck the ground she felt strong arms wrap around her and a very masculine grunt rumble through the warm chest she was pressed up against. Miroku must have caught me… she barely had time to think. Before she could fully register the position she found herself in, the spider babies began to encroach upon them.

“Sango! Are you ok?” Miroku’s voice came right by her ear, his breath hot. With one arm still braced around her he used the other one to swing at the demons while setting her down onto her feet. One of the demons managed to avoid his staff and jumped at him, landing on the side Sango was not being held against. Miroku let out a pained sound and Sango quickly slashed down at it with one of her wrist blades but not fast enough. It fell away, the damage done and Sango could see the blood beginning to spread from where its tiny fangs had pierced him. 

“Miroku!!” 

“I’m fine.” He told her as he held out his shakujo and focused his spiritual power on the formation of a barrier. A thin blue shield encircled them, but despite his words Sango could see the beads of sweat forming on his temple and the strain on his face. The spider babies continued to attempt to get at them but with Miroku’s power protecting them they were untouchable.

“I’m sorry but to keep you inside my barrier I have to keep you near.” Miroku told her, still holding onto her and beginning to move them forward. “Inuyasha should defeat the mother spider soon and once we retrieve your weapon you can impress me some more with your slayer prowess.” He joked weakly.

“Miroku…”

The spider bite had to have had some venom to be affecting him this much, and she felt guilty. If he hadn’t taken his attention away from the fight to catch her he wouldn’t have gotten injured. As they made their way to where her weapon lay she could feel him begin to lean more heavily on her. It was concerning. Finally they were at the wall where her Hiraikotsu lay amongst the corpses and empty egg sacs. She lifted her weapon up and turned to Miroku. His entire side was stained red where he bled and his face was pale.

“Keep your barrier up, I’m going to fight them.”

Before he could respond she left him propped against the wall and slipped from his arms to face the demons. In one smooth motion she threw her weapon and cut a swath through the hordes facing them.

‘Stupid fucking modernization of the world and stupid fucking demons.’ Inuyasha thought in irritation as he fought the mother spider. He hated not being able to use his sword’s full power; what use was the thing if he couldn’t even use it like it was meant to be used? Yet again, he would have to rely on himself but that was nothing new.

The damn thing kept chittering at him maniacally every time he missed and it was pissing him off. He was over it. It and all its damn babies needed to die and they needed to die now. Finally gaining the upper hand he leapt upwards, dodging more strikes from its remaining five legs and the gnashing of its fangs. A wave of web shot out at him and caught his left arm in its grip but wasn’t enough to stop the killing stroke of his sword. With one final slash Inuyasha beheaded the mother spider, putting an end to the fight.

“...Ba….kiiii…..” The demon croaked before the life faded from its eyes.

The webs around his arm loosened at the death of their mistress and Inuyasha pulled them off of him in disgust. Mission accomplished, he turned his attention to his companions.

Sango was throwing that giant boomerang weapon around killing spider babies left and right and Miroku had a barrier surrounding him, looking the worse for wear. Inuyasha could smell his blood and the demon poison but his friend was still alive so he figured any worrying could wait until the danger had passed. He turned to them and called out, “Hey! You guys good there?”

“Doing great, Inuyasha. Thanks for asking,” came Miroku’s sarcastic response. 

Sango didn’t bother to reply and just kept slaying demons, and Inuyasha had to admit she was damn good at what she did. She moved like a well-oiled machine.  

Where was that damn girl though…?

“Hey! Where the fuck is Kagome?!” 

Even as he asked the question, Inuyasha could smell her scent coming from the opposite side of the building.

“She followed you when you decided to fight the mother spider.” Miroku answered, his breathing more labored now. 

Inuyasha wasn’t listening anymore, was already running towards the far wall where he could see Kagome. The pink glow of a barrier surrounded her while she held her ground against the horde attempting to break through her defenses. What the hell? It was his job to protect her, his duty and she ran off with a whole host of demons on her tail. Did she have no regard for her own safety? He grudgingly admitted to himself that she was doing a good job of keeping them off of her but she couldn't maintain it forever. She had to know that.

He made quick work of the remaining demons and Kagome released her barrier with a gasp of relief. She opened her eyes fully and he was swallowed up in her gaze for the space of a heartbeat. She annoyed the hell out of him but damn if she didn’t find ways to get under his skin, and not always in an unpleasant way.

“Hey what exactly do you think you’re doing here, huh?” He demanded.

“Destroying the rune.” She answered shortly, turning all her focus onto the aforementioned rune her right hand was placed over. It was a nasty piece of work; he could smell the black magic pouring from it in waves. It was acrid and foul. If Kagome said it needed to be destroyed then he trusted her enough to believe her. Trust…

As he sheathed his sword his thoughts went back to that day she had invited him into her bedroom. She had told him she trusted him implicitly. And she had said it so easily, with no hesitation like it should have been obvious. That wasn’t something he was used to hearing, especially not from someone like her - a priestess. Sure he had an agreement with her family but it didn’t guarantee something like trust. That was something that didn’t come to him easily and it was difficult for him to understand how she could extend something as precious as that so readily.

Kagome’s power flared and she focused everything she had on the purification of the rune. Now that Inuyasha had killed the rest of the demons she didn’t have to split her attention and power in half trying to accomplish two things at once. She had been getting close, but it was definitely taking its toll on her. Her legs were starting to get wobbly from her sustained assault.

With a final burst she poured her all into the rune, purifying it and rendering it useless and inert. As the purity of her power consumed the black mark Kagome heard a scream of outrage echoing inside her head. 

‘You meddling little girl...you and your friends are next…!’ a shrill feminine voice shrieked. And then it was gone and she was alone inside her own head again and she was so tired.

Kagome took a step towards Inuyasha and before she realized what was happening her legs gave out. All at once the exhaustion of the confrontation hit her and her vision went a little fuzzy. She had used more energy than she realized, fighting a battle on two fronts for as long as she had.

Warm arms enveloped and supported her while she struggled to regain her bearings. Inuyasha. With a sigh she buried her face into his chest for a moment. She just needed a moment. Surely that wasn’t too much to ask for. 

“Kagome! Hey, Kagome!! Don’t you faint on me!”

There was genuine concern in his voice and she thought she must really be tired because she had to be imagining it. This was Inuyasha, afterall. With an effort she opened her eyes and lifted her head, pulling back slightly to meet his golden gaze. For a moment she was speechless. He was looking at her in actual worry, brows creased. As she stared he moved one of his hands to cradle her face.

“Hey! You ok?”

“Yes. Just tired...used a lot of power.” She finally replied.

At her answer he removed his hands from her and she felt bereft for a moment at the loss of his touch. Her strength was returning though so she was able to stand on her own two legs again. It was over. For tonight anyways.

Sango finished off the last of the demons with a speed she didn’t know she possessed. There was an ever present worry for Miroku in the back of her mind as she fought and the quicker they killed these demons the quicker they could get him patched up and healed. The guilt continued to eat at her. If she was a more talented slayer the webs would never have even caught her and Miroku would never have been injured.

When the last one lay in its death throes Sango rushed back to the monk’s side as he dropped his barrier, removing her slayer mask while settling Hiraikotsu across her back and kneeling beside him. He looked at her and gave a weak smile and she didn’t return it. There was no way she could smile seeing him like this.

“Hang on, Miroku.” She told him as she wrapped one of his arms around her shoulders and stood, helping him to his feet. He leaned on her heavily, his breathing ragged in her ear.

“My dear Sango...is that worry in your voice for me?” He quipped. 

“Yes. And shut up. Now isn’t the time to be making jokes.”

“Sorry.” He laughed feebly. “But I’m honestly touched by your concern.”  

Before she could respond again Inuyasha and Kagome had made their way to them. Sango felt relief at the sight of the rest of their companions. Now they could get out of here and get Miroku the treatment he needed.

“Miroku! What happened?” Kagome gasped as she caught sight of him and noticed his condition for the first time.

“Probably got bit. Idiot.” Inuyasha answered but he said it mildly, no heat in his words. He came around to the other side of Miroku and helped Sango support his weight.

“He’s not an idiot. It was my fault.” Sango snapped, not in the mood.

“First your concern, and now you’re defending me...am I dreaming?” Miroku joked. 

“I swear, if you keep making jokes I’m going to drop you.” Sango warned.

“Like I said-- an idiot.” Inuyasha remarked. Sango didn’t argue with his assessment this time. Miroku sighed in defeat.

“What are we going to do about all these demon corpses? There’s just so many.” Kagome worried. “If someone were to come upon them…”

“I’ll call the slayers in the morning and get them to take care of the removal of the bodies.” Sango replied. “Right now I’m more concerned about Miroku.”

“Of course. He comes first.” Kagome agreed. “Where should we be taking him?”

“Sango’s place is closer than mine.” Miroku input, his voice strained. His hair was damp with sweat.

Night had fallen across the city as they emerged from the abandoned warehouse. They made their way to Sango’s apartment as quickly as they could, avoiding detection from all human passersby. Fortunately thanks to the shroud of darkness night offered it was easily accomplished. Once they walked into her place she and Inuyasha brought him to her bedroom and laid him down onto her bed.

After he was settled Sango removed his jacket and grabbed a pair of scissors from her kitchen drawer to cut off his shirt so they could see the full extent of the damage. She had Kagome go grab her first aid kit while she set about her task. 

“I hope you weren’t too attached to this shirt.” She told him as she began to cut the material away.

“If you wanted me naked in your bed all you had to do was ask.” Miroku joked back weakly.

“I thought I told you now wasn’t the time for jokes.” Sango replied sternly. Inuyasha was right. He was an idiot. Nevertheless, the fact he was still able to crack his one-liners was a good sign and she took a little comfort in that.

Once she was done removing his shirt she took a good look at his chest and grimaced. It was bad. The wound on his left side was still oozing blood, but worse than that and much more concerning were the streaks of purple radiating out from the site of the wound that spoke of the infection from the demonic poison. This would require a purification or it would spread to his heart and likely kill him.

Kagome returned with the first aid kit and got her first real look at the wound. “Oh no. I’m going to have to perform a purification,” she said, confirming Sango’s thoughts.

Inuyasha roused himself from where he leaned against the open bedroom door. “With what power? You’re already wiped out from the fight! You almost fainted, or did you forget?”

Kagome scowled. “I’m not that weak. I’m a Head Priestess, or did you forget? I just needed a moment to collect myself and I’m fine now.”

“Can’t we take him to the shrine and get someone else to do it?” Inuyasha argued.

“There’s no time!” Kagome burst. “Do you want him to live?? Because if I don’t do this now he’s not going to. I know you’re just trying to look out for me because that’s your job but I’m perfectly capable, ok?”

Sango glanced at Miroku and saw his eyes had closed, his breaths coming in short pants. 

“Isn’t Miroku supposed to be your best friend?” She asked, growing a little angry with Inuyasha. She couldn’t fault him for trying to protect Kagome, but at the expense of his best friend?

“Hey, don’t get me wrong. Of course I don’t want him to die. That stupid monk and I go way back and I’ve saved his ass more times than I can count. It doesn’t mean I don’t care what happens to him but my obligation to Kagome and her family comes first.”

“I’m not arguing with you about this.” Kagome told Inuyasha. She knelt on the left side of the bed and placed her hands over Miroku’s wound. Sango sat on the edge of the bed on the other side and before she could think better of it grabbed Miroku’s hand, holding it tightly. It was cool to the touch. 

Memories of a similar situation with her father were surfacing in her mind. Against her will she was starting to become emotional. Miroku had put himself at risk to catch her, to protect her. Why had he done that…? The man had only known her for a week. She barely gave him the time of day and yet he put his life on the line for hers. More and more it seemed she may have misjudged him. 

Kagome set about purifying the spider bite, a pink glow coming from her hands as she focused her power into his wound. Miroku grimaced and Sango imagined it had to be painful. His eyes opened and locked with hers and she couldn’t bring herself to look away from his indigo stare. She wondered what she looked like to him right now. Was her face as open and vulnerable as she was feeling inside at that moment? 

Several long minutes passed and finally the demonic poison from his injury was gone. Finished, Kagome stood unsteadily and Inuyasha came over to help her. Without a word he picked her up and she didn’t protest. She had to be bone tired. Sango noticed how carefully Inuyasha cradled her in his arms and wondered if perhaps there was something there between them after all. As the half demon carried Kagome from the bedroom Sango turned her attention back to the monk lying half naked in her bed. He was still looking at her, but there was the smallest smile playing across his lips now. Swallowing, Sango released his hand and went to get the first aid kit left on her dresser. He let her hand go after one final squeeze.

Carefully, she cleaned the wound and wiped away all the blood. She tried to keep her ministrations professional and definitely tried not to notice how perfect his abs were as she worked. He had an undeniably nice body and she was a woman so she couldn’t be blamed for appreciating it, she told herself. It was perfectly natural.

Reaching a hand under his back she prompted him to sit up while she wrapped bandages around him. He placed a hand on her shoulder to steady himself as she patched him up. When she was finally done she helped him lay back down and she could see the exhaustion on his face. This night had definitely taken its toll on him. 

Without thinking she reached a hand up and stroked his hair, wiping away the sweat and brushing his bangs from his forehead. As she started to withdraw her hand he caught it with one of his own. She glanced at him in surprise.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to continue holding your hand.” Miroku told her. Searching his face she found no trace of his usual humor. It was an honest request. Blushing, she swallowed and nodded her consent before finding her words.

“I suppose. After all, it’s my fault you were injured.”

“Sango. Don’t blame yourself.” He told her seriously, then smiled, “Besides, I had to protect that flawless body of yours.”

“Go to sleep before I knock you out myself.”

“As my lady wishes.”

Sango rolled her eyes but she didn’t let go of his hand. His eyes closed and eventually his breathing evened out into the steady rhythm of sleep. Vaguely she heard the door to her apartment open and close and could only assume Inuyasha was taking Kagome home. Her own eyes began to grow heavy and before she knew it she was asleep as well.

Gradually she began to wake up, and her first thought was to wonder when her pillow became so firm. Not that it mattered, whatever she was resting upon was warm and comfortable and she gave a soft sigh of contentment and burrowed in deeper. A hand brushed through her hair gently and with a jolt of realization the previous night came back to her. She gave a soft gasp as her eyes opened and the hand stroking her hair stilled.

“You awake?” Miroku’s voice asked.

She had passed out next to him, her chest pressed against his side, her head on his own very naked chest, still holding his hand. The intimacy of their positions was not lost on her and she blushed as she slowly lifted herself up to look at him. Hesitantly she met his eyes and her heart began to pound so hard she wondered if he could hear it too. There was none of his usual teasing flirtatiousness present, instead she saw a gentle affection...and heat. She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry.

“Good morning.” He said, and his accompanying smile made her breath catch.

“M-morning.” She managed. “I’m sorry, I...I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you.” This was so embarrassing. She should get up right now but she couldn’t seem to make herself move.

“I assure you I’ve enjoyed every second of it.”

“I...I’m...” ‘I’m sure you did’ she wanted to say but couldn’t get the words out.

If she leaned forward just a little more...their lips would touch. It was such a tempting thought. And she knew he wouldn’t mind in the slightest. His lips looked so inviting and she licked her own reflexively. His gaze shifted to her lips at that and Sango held her breath. She couldn’t believe how much she wanted to kiss him. Hadn’t she decided she wasn’t going to give in to him and his flirtations? It was a bad idea but it didn’t make her want it any less.

With an effort she pulled away and although she thought she saw disappointment in his eyes he let her go. For her it wouldn’t be just a kiss and she wouldn’t do that to herself. It was dangerous how quickly he made her forget her self control. Distance. She needed distance.

“I’m glad you’re ok. I need to go call the slayers about the demon corpses. And take a shower. I’m sure you need to get home.” She said and hastily retreated from the bedroom before he could say anything else.

Barricading herself in the bathroom she made the call to her father and when she was done with that she stripped down and turned on the water. She knew she was being ridiculous, not to mention obvious about avoiding him, but she couldn’t face him right now. Her heart was still beating way too fast. Leaning against the wall she waited until she heard the door to her apartment open and close before she relaxed. He was gone.

Good. That would give her time to compose herself. Next time she saw him she would have herself back under control again. Her walls would be back up and she would no longer be thinking about how his lips would have tasted or how it had felt to be pressed up against him. Even if she was starting to...feel things for him, she wouldn’t let it show. She refused to consider the possibility that she was more than just a challenge to him. If she did that she might start hoping for things and that would be even more dangerous.

~☆~

Kagome finished dressing in a navy sweater and a simple gray skirt that landed mid-thigh and exited her bedroom, needing to talk to Inuyasha. He had said he had something important to tell her last night but she had been so damn tired he hadn't had a chance before she passed out. Her heart beat a little faster at the thought of how he must have carried her home and, more shockingly, tucked her into bed. Thinking about it made her blush a little. It was so at odds with the side of Inuyasha she was most familiar with-- brash, gruff, and kind of a jerk.

As she finished her descent down the stairs she heard the voices of her grandfather and Inuyasha. The half demon’s voice abruptly cut off at her appearance.

“Oh, there ya are. Finally.”

“Good morning. What’s going on?”

“Kagome. Inuyasha has just told me something concerning.” Her grandfather said.

“Does this have to do with the thing you said you needed to tell me last night?” She asked.

“Yeah. When I killed the demon it said somethin’ right before it died. ‘Baki’.” Inuyasha replied, crossing his arms over his chest.

Kagome’s face scrunched up in thought. “Baki? What does that mean, though?” Something suddenly occurred to her. “Oh! I almost forgot to tell you. Right when I destroyed the rune I heard a voice in my head. Like it was talking to me through the connection I had made.”

“What?! Why didn’t you say something sooner??” Inuyasha demanded, and Kagome could tell it was out of concern for her but it still annoyed her. She couldn’t help but poke the bear a little.

“I was a little busy passing out in your arms if you recall.”

“In my arms?” 

“That’s right. Or did someone else carry me home and tuck me into bed?”

“I-I--...W--whatever!” He sputtered, reddening a bit. “What did the voice say?”

Kagome couldn’t stop the giggle that came out, earning herself a glare. That was fine. He cared, if only just a little bit and that was enough for now.

“It was a female voice. She called me a meddling little girl and said me and my friends were next.”

“A female voice, you say?” Her grandfather asked, and they turned to look at him. “This only confirms what I have feared.”

“Grandpa, what is it?”

“Years ago there was a beautiful and powerful priestess...but she became too greedy, too vain. She turned dark. After she was found to be practicing black magic she was cast out from her shrine. Her name was whispered about throughout all the shrines as a warning. I believe the spellbook missing from our own shrine was taken by her. It seems she is now consorting with evil demons, but that is hardly surprising.”

“How do you know it’s this dark priestess, though?” Kagome questioned.

“Because Inuyasha told me the last words of the demon. ‘Baki.’ The name of this dark priestess is Tsubaki. It is too much to be a coincidence.”

“If she’s making deals with demons now then how did she manage to steal the spellbook? The aura of the demons on her should have kept her out despite her spiritual powers. They would be too tainted to break through our wards, after all.” Kagome pointed out.

“She must have an accomplice. It would certainly explain how she was able to manage so much chaos in such a short amount of time.” He replied.

Kagome was quiet for a moment. All the pieces of the puzzle they currently had were starting to fit together. 

“Hey, old man.” Inuyasha spoke up. “Do you have any idea what she’s tryin’ to achieve here?”

“Tsubaki craved power as well as eternal life and beauty, or so they say. She is a jealous and vain woman, and very dangerous. I would imagine this is all a means to accomplish her ends. It's hard to say.”

“So how do we find her?” 

“I think I have an idea.” Kagome said. “There’s a location ritual I can perform. I already know the signature of the runes she’s been leaving behind. I can use that and the residual energy left behind from the telepathic connection she opened up with me.”

“She threatened you and you’re just gonna open yourself up to her??” Inuyasha exclaimed. 

“Then what do you suggest?” Kagome shot back.

“Not that!”

“That's not an answer!”

“I don’t like it.”

“Well I’m not going to sit around and let people get hurt when I could do something to help!”

“Listen, it’s my job to protect you. Kinda hard to do that when you keep throwin’ yourself into harm’s way.”

“Then protect me. Stand guard. Do whatever you have to do. But I’m performing this ritual. You can either help me or get out of the way but you’re not going to stop me.” Her tone was fierce. She could tell Inuyasha was surprised at her vehemence, and to be honest she kind of was too, but she wasn’t going to be kept on the sidelines of this fight. She wanted to do her part.

“Fine.” The half demon finally relented. “This is fucking stupid but fine. If you insist. But I’m gonna be with you the whole time.”

“That’s what I’m counting on.”

[coolgirl]

Jason expert rate Jason’s designs

sorry for being late i was busy with school but now i’m free so to celebrate. jason indulgence.

pre-crisis not robin

very cute. i like that it has a lil more of flair to it? the collar and the lines on the gloves and the shorter cape.. also love it has pants. king rlly king. wonder if they already knew he was gonna be robin anyways or if they were still considering nightbird. anyways, 8/10 bc its cute

pre & post-crisis robin (bc its basically the same)

i mean its a classic.. however it reminds me jason was the only robin who was simply given dick’s clothes rather than like. have an unique look? which sucks. 7/10 middle child syndrome is REAL

post-crisis robin (winter edition)

OKAY NOW THIS. i absolutely love. is it tacky? oh yes without a doubt. i still love the pants and the sleeves. finally winter clothes for this child, especially considering his new titans scene where he was bitching about the costume not being snow proof. he got what he wanted! 9/10

new 52/rebirth costume by

EPIC. IDC I LOVE IT.the circles on his arms and his boots.. the lines on his legs.. i just love it. i love the red mask too… it feels.. not more unique, but feels more jason-y than the other costume. 10/10

NOW. onto older stuff

hush

as u can see im VERY confusion about the pouches and the straps?? why??? whats the purpose.. generally its fine. the white strand moved a nation and i think the chest piece is cool, but everything else.. uglee. like the long as hell jacket and him looking 40 years old like why r u 19 looking like fifty? ugly white man. 5/10

winicks/utrh version

LITERALLY A CLASSIC. i love this costume sooo much. like jason obviously grew out of it, as in it wouldnt make sense for him anymore to go with something like this as his main costume because i feel like this fit the utrh mood (him not veing a vigilante/hero/villain whatver but trying to be a mob boss n shit) and it just. fucks. i love the helmet just being plain with no stupid mouth or nose shape. i simply love it. 10/10

nigthwing

its just. its just the nightwing costume. didnt even try he just stole that from dick. he still rocks it and looks better than dick, and u gotta give him points for accessorizing with his dagger. 7/10

red robin 

im not. a big fan of this costume.. i think the cowl is ugly, it just does not work for someone as big as jason… however i do like why he took this mantle and what it meant.. 6/10 no words head empty. 

oh brother. furryman

ITS SUCH AN UGLY COSTUME. muzzle batman walked so muzzle red hood could run. its just. ugly like ugly. i dont like the ears or again the muzzle or whatever the hell is going on in the arms.. its just so edgy. 5/10

WANNA KNOW WHAT A SEXY EVIL BATMAN COSTUME LOOK LIKE?

Injustice 2 batman

I2 HAD IT IN THE BAG BABY. i like that its like classic batman costume but again! with some jason touches! the red eyes, the electric tiddies making a comeback.. epic genuinely epic. 10/10

and if ur not into evil jason

100% dad ‘i have my life figured out’ batman jason 

just like the nightwing costume this is just. batman costume. nothing special or different from it so its like did u even try? BUT in this scenario it actually means smth that he stuck to bruces costume.. sweet.. but boring. 7/10

speaking of. evil ugly designs. ugh i hate this.

this motherfucker

ive never. ever. felt as humiliated by a costume than thetime jason wore this. like MORTIFYING RLLY. its DISGUSTINGGG. the helmet shape. the fucking WHITE. the SKULL PLEASE WHO DESIGNED THIS WHO HATES ME IN PARTICULAR SO MUCH??? THIS MAN DOES NOT FUCK! HES UGLY! HE STINKS!!!! the red guns are epic that much i can say. LOOK AT THOSE PANS GOD ITS SO HUMILLIATING. 0/10 WORST COSTUME EVER.

HOWEVER. winick and the artist spun GOLD from it, because next time jason wore possibly my favorite costume to date

this motherfucker…2!

like look how much better it looks with a little of swag.. the helmet without eyes.. the belts.. the fucking leather jacket.. keeping the red guns/gloves.. like seriously i dont know a better man. the skull is still awful and i wouldve replaced the white for black and MWAH best costume. like the black part at the top make it all red and the white make it black.. god this jason fucks massively i love him. 11/10 my favorite by a landslide perhaps

new 52/rebirth red hood

OKAY I KNOW theyre slightly different (rebirth has shorter sleeves and a more padded look) but to me its like. same thing. okay i think its.. fine. its not phenomenal but its not ugly.. i like the brown jacket more than the black jacket i have to admit, its more distinctive and i simply like the color more, however i do not.. like jason having the bat symbol.. but thats also a me thing about how badly written this is. anyways. the helmet with the mouth disgusts me and everytime its drawn like that its humilliating. like. 7/10. maybe 7+. when it has the mouth or like nose ANY FACIAL EXPRESSION RLLY its a 5. 

wingman

oh i absolutely despise that helmet. he looks like fucking. terminator. its the ugliest shape ive ever seen and the visor is.. huge. i dont like the shoulder pads either idk what the fuck its going on with the thing around his neck either.. like hes. knockout batman and i HATEEE IT. damians costume slaps tho. i just… its… ugly. like.. 3/10. 

get damian back arc red hood costume

oh im a HUGE fan of this design.i love how his costume is designed in a way thats like. if jason was a dnd character he absolutely would be a tank. the padding, the red undertones everywhere, i just.. love it. i like how all the costumes were done to reflect their personalities you know.. i like this robin red hood hybrid. 9/10 would even say 10/10 bc i just enjoy how gleason draws jason.

red hood/arsenal costume

its like. i dont hate it completely (i love the way the hood+helmet looks) and thats.. yeah thats pretty much all i like about it. i HATEEEE the vest i hate it fr.i hate how huge the sumbol is and idk this costume just does not spark joy. 5/10

outlaw costume

okay this one. this one drives me insane. because like. okay i dig parts of it. i like the lack of sleeves. i like the gloves thingies. i like the hood. i could get aboard him ditching the helmet - it breaks all the damn time anyways. i like the stripes on his pants in the boots. ALL SEPARATE? NEAT. now i hate. hate. the muzzle. like WHY IT LOOKS SO UGLYYY LIKE SO UGLY like unless the artist GETS IT and is SEXY it looks awful. look at this

AWFUL. also like it made sense for when he was on the run and he had to make do and assemble a costume from what he had but like now hes sponsored by lex, get that man a goddamn new suit already please. anyways. 6/10.. like i said i like many elements from it but its still.. kinda ugly all together and depends A LOT on the artist.

three jokers

im torn on this one.. i think its a bit boring.. i dont rlly like the top part, it reminds me SOO much of that one tt issue where he beat the fuck out of tim while wearing a robin costume like i understad the implications of him wearing a costume thats similar to the robin blouse but im not a big fan.. also i prefer the brown leather jacket. its like not his worst costume by far but not the best.. like pretty basic?  i would say 6/10

NOW SOME AUS.

tiny titans & lil gotham

okay these two are like. pretty much the canon versions of robin and red hood HOWEVER they both have details that are different from the original version and DESERVE a mention. the curls on robin jason and jasons red gloves/belt are ICONIC. whoever designed them knew what they were about, so 10/10 best bapy jason.

arkham knight

does the person who designed this know how much theyve done for the lgbt community? i hope they do. i love.. a lot about this costume. i love the ears, i love how techno it is, i love the layers to it.. im.. not a big fan of the whole military thingy but i have to admit that applying it to the design itself is kind of neat.. i love the colors too and how.. practical it is while being. well. kinda dramatic? the whole bat aesthetic.. yeah. i love it. 9/10

arkham red hood

this one.. when u think about it the outlaw version is VEEERY similar to this one: the pants, the hood, the jacket eve. however i like this helmet so much more, i have a weakness for eyeless (??) helmets.. i like the little details of it as well, i remember that pic going around of it being held together with like. fuckign stitches and bandaids. legendary. i love this look, i would say 9+/10

injustice 2 jason

okay gonna go ahead and say it: not a big fan of the helmet. it looks like.. a bug? the lenses do not spark joy. this bitch has many styles and like toners etc and i will no rate them all. i think its a pretty basic design, not the best but not the worst either. like if it was an exam i would make them pass but make faces at what im reading like eeehhhgh. 7/10.

hag jason

middle one is like literally, on the outside and superficial level, just. his usual costume. the jacket and the grey kevlar and the bat. now the gloves are sexy as hell.. and in the whit ebackground one u can appreciate the under costume better and i really like it?? i just.. like the design. I HATE HOWEVER the bat helmet. WHY IS IT HOLLOW?? BITCH HELLO?? AND THE BATMAN SYMBOL DOES NOT MAKE SENSE! and i like things making sense!!!. we will not talk about jason in this book. like.. 8/10. maybe 9 if im feeling it.

hag jason 2: the hagger and the furious

hes just.. a little old man.. he cannot change this.. i like this design. i like seeing jason grow old. wish it wasnt in this context. my father rlly. 8/10

—-

am i forgetting any jays.. i wont do all animated robins because they all look the same and the one that doesnt i do not like. SO HERES my thoughts..

[mst3kproject]

Atomic Rulers

 So 2020 fucking blows.  We’ve got Death and Pestilence all over the place, War is waiting in the wings licking her chops, and I’m sure Famine is only a matter of time.  You know what we need?  A hero. Operator, put me through to the Emerald Planet!  After fifty-five years, the Earth must once again call upon Star Man.

(I apologize for the poor quality screencaps in this review.  The WiFi at sea is not great, so I’m watching movies on YouTube in decidedly low definition. I’ll replace them with better ones if I ever get out of here.)

Atomic Rulers, also sometimes known as Atomic Rulers of the World, is actually the first Star Man movie.  Does that mean we get an origin story for our brave hero?  Of course not.  Instead, we learn that the evil nation of… uh… a sign in the movie says Merapolia but the dubbing sounds like Magolia... whatever. Their nuclear testing is starting to contaminate Outer Space and the Emerald Men don’t like that – they send Star Man to Earth to do something about it.

This movie gives us two things none of the other Star Man movies do.  First of all, there’s an actual purpose to that ‘globemeter’ watch thingy he wears. The opening of every movie explains that the globemeter allows Star Man to do three things: travel through outer space, speak and understand any language, and detect sources of radioactivity. The first two functions have proven to be very useful, but neither the Salamander Men nor Ballazar’s Brain were radioactive, so the third just sat there like the stocks app on an iPhone.  Now, with the threat of concealed Magolian nuclear weapons, he finally uses it!

The second is, holy shit, a plot.  The Magolians want to rule the world, and aliens from a dozen different Godzilla movies have assured them that when conquering the Earth, you have to start with Japan.  To that end, their agents are sneaking atomic weapons into the country. Star-Man tries to confiscate these, and in the midst of the lame-ass fight scene that follows, the Magolian Bag-O-Nukes is carried off by a bunch of annoying little kids!  The Magolians kidnap one of the kids and try to force him to tell them where their bomb is.  Star-Man rescues the boy, but it’s too late – they’ve already retrieved the bomb.  There’s just a few hours left before Japan must surrender, or be blown to bits as an example to the rest of the world!

There’s actually even more to the plot than that. It’s full of wild twists and turns, with Star Man and the Magolians taking turns looking like they’re about to win the day.  Yet at the same time, unlike the other Star Man films, the story is not obviously bifurcated!  You can tell where Movie One ends and Movie Two begins (with the rescue of the kidnapped kid), but the same characters are involved throughout rather than changing from reel to reel.  Even the gaggle of nameless kids in short-shorts kind of play a role in the plot, helping Star Man and giving information to the police whenever they can. The plot unspools in a single main storyline from beginning to end, and events usually make enough sense that you can figure out where they fit.

Even more shockingly, Star Man himself actually has some personality in this film, even a bit of a character arc.  In the other movies he just ran around punching aliens and smiling at children, but here we see him as a bit of an arrogant dick, confident in his ability to beat the mere humans who represent the threat to the universe.  When he is nearly beaten instead, he is forced to learn a little humility, and nearly sacrifices his life to save a hostage.

By leaps and bounds, then, this is the best Star Man movie I’ve seen.  There’s a couple more out there, but they’d have to work hard to be better than Atomic Rulers.  At the same time, as praise goes ‘the best Star Man movie’ is almost as faint as ‘the best Coleman Francis movie’.  It still sucks big-time, and Mike and the bots would have had riff material to spare.

I mean, this is a movie where the bad guys have a giant cartoon demon face on the wall of their lair for some reason, and when they’re not disguised in blazers and ties they wear coronavirus suits with the same face on the chest.  There’s a bit where Star Man swordfights with a bunch of them, using fencing foils that were just lying around in the room for some reason.  Other fight scenes are mostly things like Magolians frantically shooting at Star Man while he just stands there looking smug. The ‘atomic core’ MacGuffin is just a plastic tube full of glitter.  The back-projected ‘flying’ effects are dire.  There’s a bomb that has a literal clock on the side ticking down the minutes like in an old cartoon.  There’s a pretty girl strapped into a death trap that I can only describe as the world’s slowest guillotine.

There’s a fairly extended sequence in which we see the Magolians’ car driving down a road, then cut to Star-Man flying, then back to the car, then back to Star Man, then back to the car, and on and on until I could almost hear Crow shouting “he’s following them!  We get it!”

The Magolians themselves confuse me a bit. People refer to their embassy and their ambassadors, and there’s a flag on their car and so forth, so I’m pretty sure they’re supposed to be from a country on Earth… and yet they behave exactly like the villains of a Japanese alien invasion movie.  They have dumb costumes, they call the guy in charge ‘supreme leader’, and most distracting of all, they refer to conquering ‘the Earth’.  Maybe this is just an artifact of the translation, but I would expect humans to talk about ruling ‘the world’ rather than ‘the Earth’.  It left me expecting a big reveal at the end, and when there wasn’t one, I had to go back to the beginning to see if they’d been established as aliens and I’d missed it.

Speaking of possible artifacts of translation, there’s another thing here I’m not sure about.  A lot of Japanese ‘no nukes’ movies have American antagonists, or at least, white guys who are clearly a stand-in for Americans.  My favourite example is the belligerent country of Rolisica in Mothra, which is an absolutely hilarious summary of what 60’s Japan thought the West was like.  Magolia, on the other hand, appears to be a stand-in for the USSR.  The actors playing the Magolians are mostly white, and we only ever hear two of their names: the supreme leader has a nonsense name, but the ambassador is called Boris Zedenko.  I wonder if this is original to the script, or whether it was changed when the movie was dubbed for American release.

The thing I find most interesting about Atomic Rulers is that while Star Man does save the Earth, that’s not really his goal.  The Emerald Men sent him here to prevent a war because Earth’s radioactivity was leaking into outer space, threatening other planets.  Star Man isn’t here to save humanity, he’s here to save the rest of the universe from us; saving us from ourselves is merely a side-effect.

This makes Star-Man a little different from his imitators, Space Chief and Prince of Space.  Despite their space-themed code-names, they are humans from Earth, with a specific interest in protecting this planet.  Star-Man seems to have the broader responsibility of protecting the civilized galaxy in general, and this is reflected in the premises of his movies. In Evil Brain from Outer Space, Ballazar’s Brain is using Earth as a place to launch a general takeover of the universe. Invasion from Space was a little less clear about it, but I’m pretty sure there was something about the Earth being ‘the richest planet in the galaxy’ and the Salamander Men would presumably use that loot for nefarious purposes.

A side implication here is that Star-Man probably has other adventures, too – we’re only seeing the ones that happen to bring him to our particular planet.  Considering how strange Star-Man movies can be anyway, and how trippy the brief shot of the Emerald Planet, with its crystal-headed creatures and robots and even a couple of what appear to be the Pairans from Warning from Space, one has to wonder about these potential non-Earth storylines.  How fucking weird would those be?  I’m imagining something like an entire movie about Krankor’s pet giant.

Another thing that distinguishes Star Man from the other space dinks is that he has actual superpowers.  Space Chief and Prince of Space are basically just normal guys in stupid outfits.  Prince of Space claims that Krankor’s ray guns have no effect on him, but really we see he’s using his wand-thing to deflect them.  Star Man, who is from another planet, can fly and has super-strength. This kind of makes me wonder if he was intended as a Superman imitator… but that would make Space Chief and Prince of Space the equivalent of Batman, and I just can’t insult Batman like that.

I am developing an honest affection for Star Man movies.  Their desperate cheapness is more than made up for by their over-the-top absurdity, and the result is not at all ‘good’ by any reasonable measure and yet is always entertaining.  Camp like that is all too rare to find, and even rarer to find a franchise like Gamera or Star Man that can do it dependably.  I don’t know why the Japanese are apparently so good at this, but I’m glad somebody is.

[eltanin-malfoy]

Life Kills (Kill Or Be Killed I)

pairing : draco/fem-collegestudent!y/n (not that romantic.. or platonic)

word count : 3.4k!

warnings : smoking, swearing, mentions of murder/violence/poisoning, angst!!!!

a/n : this is set in an original modern non-magic AU, and the story is based off of (MAJOR SPOILER ALERT, DO NOT CHECK OUT THE PROMPT UNLESS YOU WANT TO SPOIL THE REST OF THE STORY lol) this prompt on @writing-prompt-s. there is no real romance between draco and y/n in this chapter, and i’m not exactly sure there will be. the premise of this story kind of makes that a little crazy. for now, it’s pretty much just animosity. there is the slightest possibility of this turning into a slow burn fic.. so hold on, i guess. this is definitely not your typical x reader. at all. i would appreciate any and all feedback from you guys! requests are open as well :) also i hate smoking irl but it just fit here, sorry.

Chapter 1 : Life Kills

Smoke. 

That beloved scent filled Draco’s lungs as he took a drag from the wrinkled brown stick in his hand, his steely eyes shutting as its end glowed red. He held it away for a few seconds as he exhaled, white clouds slipping out of his lips into the cold air in front of him. His eyes followed his own exhalation into the sky, his fingers fidgeting with the green lighter he’d used to ignite his toxic addiction with. 

He grinned, then brought the cigarette to his lips for another puff, then another, then another, till slowly, the tube of tar was finally used up. He folded up what was left of his papery weapon with his thin fingers and finally tossed it to the ground. He reached into his pocket for his pack, searching for even more release.

He lifted his gaze to the scene in front of him, the concrete jungle that was Bond Street. The expensive logos were practically calling out his name. It’s just my fucking luck, isn’t it? He scowled at the crowds gathered around the area. My lovely parents just had to go get themselves arrested and leave me all by myself. He instinctively grit his teeth as memories of his awful father fluttered through his brain. At least I don’t have to associate with that.. that.. tyrant anymore. 

“Draco? Two minutes left in your break, son.”

The pale blonde rolled his eyes as he stared out front, but looked back and flashed his elderly boss a (fake) smile. She nodded and stepped back inside, arms crossed around her portly frame as she shivered. 

It had only been a few months since his parents had been arrested by the government after being convicted of illegally possessing and smuggling famed works of art, literature and the like. When the authorities first began their investigation, Lucius had said that it would all work itself out, even though the police’s suspicions were absolutely correct. He had connections everywhere, after all. But, alas! A search warrant had made its way to Malfoy Manor before his parents had the opportunity to sweep everything under the rug, and.. even their very expensive defence lawyer wasn’t able to hide the fact that they were caught red handed.

This had led to a crapload of problems in Draco’s own life. To begin with, he wouldn’t be able to see his mother for at least another decade. His parents’ fortune (and his trust fund, of course!) was seized by the government, leaving him absolutely broke, and forced to drop out in the second year of his Chemistry degree at the very prestigious Oxford University. He’d tried hard to find some kind of a placement in any of his parents’ friends’ companies, but no, they’d decided to stop associating with any member of the Malfoy clan. So, he managed what he could and left his old grand life in Wiltshire for some kind of meagre lifestyle in London. Working as a cashier at Tesco probably wasn’t the worst thing he could be doing.. It was minimum wage, but, it wasn’t hard. Didn’t require much energy. 

Draco, for one, had never understood his parents’ motivation to undertake that.. that.. stupidity. 

His parents’ family fortune had had practically no purpose in the first place. There wasn’t a glint of compassion in his father’s heart, and all he wanted to use it for was to satisfy his own wants. Illegally purchasing stolen historical artifacts? Of course. Selling them off to others for even greater profits? Sure! But giving a beggar even a single pound? Absolutely not. This total greed and attitude of disgust his father had had used to interest him when he was younger, back in secondary school. He’d made a habit of showing off his wealth and talking down to those who didn’t have much in comparison. But as he grew up.. he’d realised how awful it was.

Especially now that he was only twenty, absolutely alone and having to live off of four hundred pounds a week. It seemed like a lot, at first, but once you factored in rent, food and basic needs, he was barely left with a handful to work with. His heart practically broke every time he caught sight of a homeless person and somehow, so different to his former self, he’d find himself searching in his wallet for spare notes to hand them.

He quickly opened up the pack of cigarettes and pulled out one to satiate himself, stress bubbling up in his veins. He shoved the box almost haphazardly back into the pocket of his coat, then held it to his lips and flicked his lighter, the brilliant orange flame lighting the tip of the cigarette. He took a drag and looked around again, slowly turning to walk back to his place of work. He took a few deep puffs and was just about to trash it when he heard.. what sounded like a struggle? 

He headed down the alleyway, to a bit of a darker turn, instinctively slicking back his platinum blonde hair. He finally got a glimpse of what was happening. There was a girl, probably around the same age as him, having a dynamic disagreement with a.. homeless old person? His protective instincts kicked into gear as he saw her swatting at him with the umbrella in her hand, yelling at him for what sounded like.. attempting to trip her?

The old man was shielding himself with a blanket, his arms over his head as he called for help. Draco, feeling almost like his saviour, pushed the girl away, which, he realised was not the best move with his tall figure, made her fall to the ground with a loud squeal. The old man set the blanket down and looked up at the lack of commotion, then gave the lanky blonde a smile. He even mouthed a soft ‘thank you’ and Draco waved his hand, reassuring him that it was no big deal.  He took a deep breath, about to turn on his heel to leave, but found himself scowling down at the girl, who was slowly getting up again.

“Why did you do that?” She panted, her hair messy as she got back onto her feet. She wasn’t exactly well built herself, her face was a bit pale and there were hints of shadows under her eyes as she glared up at him. She dusted herself off and placed her hand on her denim-covered knee, wincing the slightest bit. She quickly rose up again and brought her hands to her hips. “Don’t need to look at me like that.” She clenched her jaw and Draco realised that he’d been silent all this while.

“Don’t need.. idiots like you treating helpless people the way you did. Fucking awful, that was.” He looked her over quickly, his gaze pausing at the straps of the backpack on her shoulders. “You.. you students think you can just get away with anything, don’t you?” He found himself getting a bit more heated, his cheeks slowly beginning to turn purple. 

She opened her mouth to speak, but Draco rolled his eyes and finally turned to leave, walking back down the alleyway without a word. “Well, we don’t need pricks like you defending these oh so helpless people when they try to steal something from someone.” She called out after him and he stopped, staring to the front, before looking over his shoulder. Instead of locking eyes with her, he saw the same homeless man, staring into space as he huddled up with that blanket. Draco felt the slightest pang of guilt in his gut, but ignored it and continued, still choosing to believe that she was just.. an embodiment of his own father. 

Nasty and entitled. He thought to himself as he slipped off his coat, setting it on a rack in the Employee’s Only room. Bet she hasn’t known any real problems in her life. Bet she’s not even a fucking good student. He felt his rage boiling up within him again, but stared at himself in the small mirror by the door. He placed his hands on his reddened cheeks and forced himself to calm down, taking deep breaths and reassuring himself of his own ability. Looking very flustered wasn’t exactly ideal for a cashier in a supermarket, after all.

***

Draco ran the carton of milk over the scanner. Beep. He passed it over to the red haired boy to the side of him, who began to stuff it into a plastic bag. He tried his best not to glance at his customer, but his curiosity bested him and he reluctantly flashed the dark middle aged man a smile. He shook it off and stared at the monitor in front of him. “That’ll be ninety four pounds and thirty pence, sir.” He looked over at the man as he pulled out his wallet and ruffled through it to hand him a few notes, along with a few coins. 

“Oh, and I found this in the Car Care aisle.” He pulled out yet another wallet from his pocket, a black, leather one… just like Draco’s father’s.. He let out a sharp exhale and gently took it from him, setting it on the counter. “Thank you, sir. We’ll announce that it’s missing right away.”

The boy then stuffed the notes into the drawer of the cashier, pulling out the one and returning it to the man. “Here’s your change! Thank you for shopping at Tesco, have a nice day!” He forced the words out of his mouth, his voice dry. He could act well, back in the day, but now, he wasn’t exactly willing to try. The ginger opened his mouth to speak. “Hope to see you again, sir, thanks for returning the wallet you found!” A bright smile on his stupid face. Ugh! Always got to suck up to them, doesn’t he? Draco grit his teeth as he shut the register, looking up to see that there was no more customers queuing at the counter. 

He opened up the wallet and looked it over, then noticed the name on a credit card in one of the sleeves to the front. There were a couple of ID cards in the others, but.. he couldn’t exactly be bothered. He leaned down and pulled out the small microphone wired to the counter, thought his announcement up, pressed the button besides it and opened his mouth to speak. 

“A black leather wallet belonging to a Y/N Y/L/N was just found in the Car Care aisle. Kindly approach counter number 4 for more details, please.” He called out, almost monotonously, closing the wallet up and setting it away. He turned it off and set it away. He looked over at the wallet again and goddamn Lucius’ face flashed in his mind again. 

“Can’t seem to learn to act a little nicer, can you, Draco?” Draco lifted his gaze to look over at him, eyes flitting down to the name tag by his collar. Ron… what a bloke to be forced to spend these hours with.. Draco furrowed his brows and just shook his head. “No, I can’t. And that’s the way it’ll be. I’m saying what I have to say, and I shouldn’t be judged for not feeling like a chirpy little bird all the time.” “Okay.. whatever.” Ron rolled his eyes and fiddled around with the bags attached to the hooks by the counter, then looked around. “Not a very busy day today, is it?” 

Draco looked down as his eyes widened, somehow Ron had mastered getting on his nerves. “No, it’s not. Not a lot of people out this late at night on a Sunday, Ron.” He looked over at the digital clock by the exit of the store, tilting his head and rolling his shoulders lightly. ‘10:47’  The clock read. Less than a quarter of an hour until my shift ends and I can get out of this shithole. He stared into space as he bit down on his lip, grateful that Ron had finally decided to remain silent. It wasn’t too chilly inside, but it was unbearable for every other reason. This forced happiness with every single customer, the annoying radio somehow constantly playing only the songs he seemed to hate, his annoying bag packer.. maybe retail really wasn’t for him. He shook his head and fiddled with the edge of his blue uniform shirt, staring at the clock and waiting for time to pass. 

Easy money, isn’t it? He continued to think to himself. Have to press a couple of buttons, say a couple of words, stay in my place, everything works out. He took a deep breath. Good cover too. No one’s too careful with managing who does the shifts either.. Great alibi, Draco. Could just lie and write my name up in the lists.. No one even cares. A small smile grew on his face. No one would even know if it was me.. Not one. Murder isn’t that hard when you’ve got control of the inventory as well. Change a couple numbers, bag a couple of items and take them out with you through the employee’s exit, no one would even know a thing. 

After having to leave university, Draco had grown very, very confused as to what direction to steer his life in. Money wasn’t exactly what he was after.. and it seemed like any past hopes of his of being a research scientist were pointless without some kind of a degree. Chemistry had been his subject of choice, much to his father’s great disdain. He was fine with Draco not even going into tertiary education at all, he had the family business going for him, didn’t he? If you could call it that, then yes. But.. it wasn’t for him. Smuggling wasn’t what interested him, really. It was murder, now.

Draco had liked reading about true crime since he was a child. The horrors, the mysteries and everything else had fascinated him to no end. He thought it had just been some kind of juvenile interest of his, some way to satisfy his curiosity. He could never have seen himself attempting any of that. But that was until he was forced out of his lush lifestyle, this whole change had not only upped his anger and generosity towards the rich and the poor, respectively, but also his desire to get rid of the stress inside of him. Nicotine had soon become his drug of choice but.. 

He craved something more.

Roland Hoyt… oh boy.. That was the one serial killer Draco had truly been fascinated by. That absolute genius had managed to kill eight people in an old English town with the use of chemicals. It was some mixture of cyanide and barbiturates that he had managed to feed to most of his victims which lead to their death, but what had truly drawn Draco in was the few cases in which Hoyt managed to use his own version of the famed lethal injection. It was beyond wicked, truly. Draco felt like it would be one hell of an insane mission, had felt crooked to the bone even thinking about doing it, but truly, there was no better way to get out his frustration than to just.. do the same. He couldn’t exactly afford any kind of games, or gym membership or as such any longer. And even his most recent ex, Pansy, had seemed to lose any interest in him once he lost his fortune. Talking to girls wasn’t exactly his forte to begin with, anyways. 

He just wanted to try it, really. Out of curiosity. Just someone who no one would miss, would even know they were missing. He knew it was absolutely awful of him to even try.. But he’d studied up enough to know how to get away with it, and try he very well would. Or at least try to try, right?

He was snapped out of his thoughts with a nudge to the shoulder from his accompanying bag packer. His head shot up and looked over at him. “What is it, Weasley?” Ron pointed over at the other side of the counter where a new customer was stood.

“Not you again..” 

Draco suddenly froze, instantly recognising that voice. He looked up hesitantly and locked eyes with her. It’s that bitch from earlier! Should bar her from coming in here, really! He grit his teeth and pursed his lips slightly, but soon opened his mouth to speak. “Good evening, miss.” His tone seemed a bit cheery, but was obviously rich in sarcasm. “The wallet’s mine.. “ He almost snarled at this, but placed the wallet on the counter. “Are you sure? Or are you just trying to..? You really Y/N Y/L/N?”

She rolled her eyes and took the wallet, opening it up delicately. “Do you really think I’d steal a wallet? You shouldn’t be allowed to work here, honestly.” She pushed a single bottle of antifreeze forwards, fiddling with the ends of her hair. Draco quickly sized her up as she moved forward. The backpack was gone, replaced by a small satchel bag over her shoulder. She seemed to have changed as well, while he couldn’t remember what kind of shirt she was wearing, the jeans she had on were replaced by some shorts.. and what seemed like a small plaster over her knee. He took the bottle of antifreeze and brought it up to the scanner.

“Well, good thing I have a kind manager, then.” He rolled his eyes as the machine beeped, passing the bottle along to Ron, who almost dropped it at first. Draco looked over at him and his eyes were practically stuck on the girl as she glared at Draco. She suddenly looked over at Ron as well, launching into another attack. “Has Tesco seriously started employing assholes who push customers around when no one else is looking?” She bit down on her lip, awaiting some kind of a response.

“Well-well..” Ron stuttered out and Draco couldn’t help but cringe for him, pressing a few buttons on the register. “He’s just the one.. Really. The rest of us are.. not bad.” The girl seems unsatisfied with this response, but continued to look at him, studying his reaction. “So.. you’re not bad then?” She asked, eyeing the redhead quizzically now. “I can be great for a pretty girl like-” “That’ll be seven pounds.” Draco looked over at Ron to see him staring back disapprovingly, arms crossed over his chest. He could feel the slight snarl growing on his face, but snapped out of it, knowing he couldn’t have this girl actually complain about him to his superiors. “Paying by card?” He flipped a card reader over to her, then pressed a few buttons on his own register. She nodded and fit it into the slot, waiting patiently as it flashed an ‘Approved’ sign. “There..”

Draco rolled his eyes yet again, reaching over to grasp the receipt that had just finished printing out. “Miss, you need to sign and write down your contact number here. Just for verification purposes.” He placed a pen right next to it and took a slight step back, studying her for a second. She seems.. easy? A bit violent.. But easily taken care of. Fell like a twig. He shook the thought from his head for a second, looking down as she finished up.

Almost unpredictably, she looked up and flashed Ron a smile, whose ears immediately flushed pink. Sure enough, the signatures matched and he handed her her bag, after which, she soon stepped out. “What the hell was that, Ron?” Ron just shook his head and looked over at her, before glancing back at the Employees Only room.

Y/N Y/L/N. He thought. How convenient. He looked over at the girl exiting, making a mental note. He quickly closed up the register and placed a ‘Next Counter Please’ sign for the next employee to take off. Ron had already cleaned up his area and had started heading back to the Employees Only room, probably to change. 

Y/N. Draco finished up and put his hands in his pockets, heading back himself as he noticed a few other employees shuffling over. Physically, she’s an ordinary female, but mentally, just as spoilt and awful as Father.

Think I’ve found myself a first victim, haven’t I?

Chapter 2

[sometimesimawriter]

Mirror Effect

part 2

A/N: just to clarify, everyone in this story is 20ish because we do not stan Five being an actual child under the ripe age of 12! Thanks everyone! Have a nice day!

*the next morning; it was a long night for everyone, Christina had patched up Five, and insisted she spend the night on the cot next to him. Kayla and Emma gave Klaus and Diego a tour around the house. It was a rather large Victorian estate, hidden on the outskirts of Hackensack. It seemed like the girls lived here on their own; it was previously owned by one of Christina's distant aunts or cousins or possibly great grandmother- her family was bigger than what anyone could remember. The three lived here for majority of the year, they had finished college a few years ago, and all found jobs in the city. Kayla was a chemical engineer, Emma was a fierce business woman, and Christina spent her nights at clubs and bars, playing gigs, meeting new people, and singing her heart out every Friday and Saturday night.*

The smell of eggs and bacon wafts through the air. There is quiet laughter, Emma and Kayla move around the kitchen. It's a pretty big space, but they keep bumping into each other.

"Bro MOVE" Emma sighs, exasperated in a joking way.

"You keep existing in the wrong space at the wrong time, that's not my fault"

At this time, they hear shuffling coming towards the kitchen. Klaus looks like he had a fight with the mattress and loss. His shirt is unbuttoned completely and he rubs his eyes. Emma glances over at Kayla, who stares at him for a second too long. Then she smiles as he meets her eyes and holds out an empty mug.

"Coffee?"

He gives a lopsided smile. "Only if you put actual coffee in there."

Emma barks out a laugh at this and Kayla poises her arm, acting as if she's going to throw the mug. She then pours a cup and hands it to Klaus, then glances at Emma.

"So Klaus, is your brother awake? or should Emma go wake him instead?"

Emma blushes and flips her off.

Just then, two more pairs of shuffling feet come down the hallway, speaking in hushed voices.

Christina and Five enter the kitchen, Christina's hair is resembling that of a mad scientist, and Five even looks slightly flustered. They both come to a complete stop and look at everyone in the kitchen.

Christina gulps "Oh, um, everyone's awake!"

Her cheeriness is out of character, and Kayla's eyes widen and then she blurts out

"You two FUCKED" Kayla screams

"Oh my god WHAT" Emma throws herself at Christina. "Did you really?"

"Did you use protection? am i going to be an aunt? I can't handle godchildren right now. The responsibility of spoiling your children? I can't do that right now!" Kayla gets in Christina's face.

"She's right. But first of all, did you go doggie style? Cow girl? REVERSE cow girl? No no wait, you had to have put on a strap on. Do you like getting slapped in the face?"

The girls torrent her with questions.

Klaus slithers over to Five and wraps an arm around his shoulder. "so how'd you like it? First time is always the best, at least that's what i heard. I don't remember my first, because well you know-" he makes a smoking gesture at this and raises his eye brows.

"We did NOT FUCK" Christina screams at the girls.

Both fall silent, then Emma breaks the moment.

"You whore you SUCKED HIS DICK!"

At this Christina wails "N O!"

"The stereotypes are true, Jersey girls are loud as hell." Diego says as he shuffles into the room. he is disheveled like Klaus, but looks more peaceful, like the type of disheveled that a surfer boy possesses. Emma retracts from Christina and looks at him. Both Kayla and Christina notice her change in character. Emma has never been one to shy away from men, she loves being straight forward with what she wants. But now, she seems more subdued, maybe cautious or curious. She puts on this sweet smile and asks "want coffee?"

Kayla makes a choking sound, "original..."

Emma turns and stares at her as if she wished her to die in a ditch on the side of a road.

"Sure Ill take some coffee" Diego gives her a smile, one that says he wants to meet up with her sometime during the night.

The group settles down around the kitchen table, which is a metal table on wooden legs. It has some dents, hopefully from kitchen use and nothing that a group of promiscuous girls could have possibly gotten up to after nights of partying and bringing men home. At least, no one was going to address that situation.

The morning was filled with clinking forks and knives, small talk about New York and the Academy, and lots of longing looks. Christina constantly glanced up at Five and quickly looked away, but ironically she missed each time he stole a look at her. Emma stared at Diego, and he looked at her, basically having mental sex across the table. Kayla on the other hand laughed the most at Klaus's stories, times at raves or strange highs he had had. He seemed at ease with her, but also kept reassuring her that he was sober, almost like his sobriety proved he had some type of worth.

Diego was the first to stop engaging in some weird romance that each couple had for each other. "We need to talk about the elephant in the room."

Klaus glanced at Kayla and then smirked, "yeah, i was wondering too. Are they condoms for eye sex? Because i think I may be pregnant from all the eye contact you two are having."

Diego gave him a dull look "anyway... we still need to find this Razor-Max dude. Does he have powers too?"

Five made a face, "His nails grew into witch's talons and he can jump 45 feet in the air. Either he's a super or someone is dedicated to drinking his milk."

Christina snickered at this, and then blushed when everyone turned to her.

Five leaned toward the table and put his elbows up, squaring off with Kayla, "What i want to know is what is your history with him? Why does he want you dead?"

Kayla looked down and Klaus looked genuinely concerned. She took a deep breath and explained "we dated for a year, he was really good to me. I thought I loved him, like i was gonna marry him some day. That changed when i walked into a bar and saw him pinning some blonde against a pool table and practically eating her face with his lips. I got pissed, started a scene, broke things off with him. He's always had anger issues, but i never thought it would get this bad. He started sending flowers and chocolates to my house. Called me every hour of every day. Then his texts and messages got angrier and angrier. One day i looked at the porch and saw there was a fruit basket that had been ripped open by a raccoon. Except the raccoon was foaming at the mouth and seizing up a few feet away from the basket."

Diego looked up, "he tried poisoning you?"

"Seems like it. Got a restraining order, and then murders started happening. He started with girls that looked like me, trying to send a message. Then he got sloppy, killing whoever."

"I thought the NYPD didn't know who was murdering people?" Said Five.

Emma looked down at the table, "Oh no, they know. It would be a suicide mission for their officers to go after him. So they make us do it."

Klaus entered into the conversation, "And now you need backup."

Kayla looked across the table to him, "Yeah that would be nice. You don't need to put yourself in danger though-"

Klaus stood up at this, puffing out his chest sarcastically "There is nothing dangerous enough for me!" He pumped one fist in the air, then lowered his hand, bowing at the waist and took Kayla's hand from the table and softly kissed her knuckles. "I have known you for less than 24 hours and I am already willing to lay down my life for you."

Kayla let out a laugh and Klaus smiled as he sank back down into his seat.

"So how would you take down a literal man-animal hybrid? My knives barely did anything, its like his skin is its own armor." Diego glanced back at Emma.

Emma then perked up at this. "well actually, Kayla has been working on a type of- what did you call it?- narcotic?"

"DRUGS?" Klaus made a voice similar to that vine of the owl trying to sell drugs.

Kayla laughed again, "yeah i guess, just a little nighty-night syrup so we could have a chance against him. Dude's a damn monster though, so I don't exactly know what would work on him."

Klaus lightly touched her hand, "I'm sure you'll find something. I have a past with...chemical engineering... kind of. I can help!" She smiled again at him and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.

Christina spoke up "Five, i need to recheck your bandages. Emma, maybe you and Diego can go back to the brownstones and see if he left any tracks and find where he's been hiding out. Kayla you can go back to your lab, maybe show Klaus around." Christina winked at her, and then both her and Five left the kitchen, back to the small infirmary where they both had spent the night.

[tempestaurora]

WHUMPVEMBER #29: CAREGIVER

fluffy nonsense for the second-to-last-whumpvember-fic AO3

“I agree,” Peter said, nodding at Morgan, who was busy sucking her thumb and staring wide-eyed up at him. “Cosmological perturbations grow according to the Mészáros Effect until the onset of nonlinearity.” Morgan, not one-year-old, blinked and Peter laughed. “Now if only that made sense in English.”

He poked her lightly in the belly, watching her giggle; eyes a bright, lively brown and hair curly and pale. She was laid back on the sofa at Peter and May’s apartment, her toys and supplies strewn across the floor and coffee table as the baby TV channel played in the background; bright colours and large letters appearing on screen with overly friendly hosts.

Peter babysat Morgan pretty often by this point. He was Tony and Pepper’s go-to, partially because they trusted him and partially because he loved babysitting the girl his little sister. Usually, he’d babysit at the tower or compound, depending on where Tony was living that week, but for once she’d been dropped off in Queens; a last-minute gig when Morgan’s parents were called suddenly to an all-day emergency meeting upon one of their (now former) employees going a little Mad Scientist and trying to blow up the Empire State Building.

(“Hey, Pete?

“Yeah, Tony?”

“How busy are you today?”

“Uh, not very? I mean, I was planning on doing some assignment work, but-”

“That’s great, that’s great. Would you mind looking after Morgan? We can drop her off, but we’ve both been called in-”

“Of course I can! What time do you need me?”

“Uh, in about five seconds- yeah, yeah, we’re outside right now. Hear that horn? That’s us. Please come get the child. She didn’t like the horn and now she’s crying.”)

So, Peter was babysitting, which was great, but also a little bit of a fork in the works of his plan. Originally, he was going to write his assignments for class and then Spiderman around the city for a while. Now – well, he could do the assignment work, mostly, but Spiderman would have to wait until tomorrow.

Morgan giggled and pulled her thumb from her mouth, pushing herself up to grab Peter’s hand with her soggy one. Peter pulled a face that made her laugh, then made a few garbled sounds that made no sense to him.

“Yes, that’s right,” he said anyway. “We do get seasons because the Earth is tilted 23.4 degrees on its axis – that’s a very astute observation.”

Morgan farted, laughed, then farted again.

“Alright, alright,” he said, picking her up and holding her to his chest as he wandered around the room. Morgan settled her cheek on his shoulder, pushing her thumb back in her mouth, the TV singing a song about shapes or numbers or colours.

Peter liked these kind of days a lot.

He had the apartment to himself and just a little girl with incredibly basic needs to attend to. Morgan Margaret Stark, who pooped, ate, and pooped again. Occasionally, she’d take a nap, but otherwise she liked attention and funny faces, and Peter could say anything he was thinking out loud, because she wouldn’t tell anyone what he said. And he could spend the day trying to get her to say his name as her first word while lost in his own thoughts.

It was during this moment of quiet, Morgan in his arms, sunlight warming the kitchen floor, that Peter heard the scream.

His spine straightened suddenly, eyes darting to the window and ears picking up on the yelp that was cut short.

“Crap,” he muttered, then glanced at Morgan as if she’d immediately repeat the word back. “I can’t- Morgan- I mean-”

There was the sound of a struggle, his enhanced ears picking up on the grunts of exertion and whimpers of fear. Peter heard a please and he knew he had to do something.

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” he said, rushing to his room. He settled Morgan on his bed before yanking off his t-shirt and searching for his suit. “What Tony doesn’t know won’t hurt him. He won’t find out about this, Pepper won’t know – no one will know.”

Peter hit the spider emblem and the suit shrunk to size. He steadied a look at Morgan.

“And you’re not gonna tell anyone, right?”

She looked at him and giggled.

“Right,” he whispered, pulling on the mask.

Before he had much of a chance to think about it, Peter picked up Morgan and darted back into the living room, before searching one-handed through all her supplies and finding the baby carrier a moment later.

Peter enjoyed the baby carrier, because it meant he could hold Morgan without actually holding her, which made a lot of things easier. Like being Spiderman, apparently.

He strapped her into the carrier on his back, checking on her briefly before leaving the apartment via the closest window.

Peter had already figured out that he could hear the yelp so easily because it was coming from the alley next to his building, so it wasn’t difficult to climb out the window and shoot a web that would let him swing around to the scene.

Morgan didn’t seem to mind the height; she just stayed quiet and watched as the ground swung up to meet them and Peter landed carefully, so as not to hurt her.

“Hey!” he called when he reached the alley.

Ahead of him was a man in a dark jacket, a knife outstretched, and a short woman with trembling hands, her handbag being yanked into the mugger’s grasp.

“There are young, impressionable minds present,” Peter said. “Please set a good example for them.”

The mugger blinked at him. “What the hell? Is that a baby?”

Peter shrugged, Morgan babbled in his ear. “It’s bring your sister to work day, what can I say? Now, knife down, handbag back to the nice lady, or my little sister’s gonna have to see me kick your butt.”

The mugger snorted, shoved the bag back at the lady and turned on Peter, brandishing the knife. “Get ready for an ass-kicking, Spiderboy.”

Peter sighed. “Young, impressionable minds present,” he muttered, before swooping into action.

The knife was easy to disarm, considering the mugger moved his weapon into just the right position for Peter to safely knock it away with a well-timed kick. He webbed it to the ground where it landed to take it out of play.

After that, it was just him and the mugger as the lady ran further down the alley, to where the chain-link fence kept her blocked in.

The mugger missed all his hits bar one – Peter took one knock to the stomach when he was focusing more on if Morgan was okay on his back than the mugger’s next move. Peter got him back quickly with a right hook and as the guy leaned forward with a groan, Peter headbutted him in the nose, making Morgan laugh.

She was only laughing for a second though, because a fight’s a rough ride to be an unwilling participant to, and soon the movement was making her whine.

“It’s okay,” Peter promised, shooting a web at the guy’s foot, locking him in place. Still Morgan’s whining got higher and higher in pitch until it sounded like she was about to sob. “Karen,” Peter announced, “play Baby Shark through the suit’s speakers.”

“Yes, Peter, though I have to remind you that you’ve referred to this song as what Hell sounds like on more than one occasion.”

Peter took a deep breath, looking briefly into the middle distance. “I’m a hero, Karen. Heroes do what they must.”

“Understood.”

The Baby Shark song started playing, much to everyone in the alley’s annoyance, bar Morgan, who upon hearing the first doo doo doo doo doo doo, abruptly stopped complaining and quietened.

The mugger, leaning to pull at the webbing on his shoes, received another web to his hands, locking them in place. He growled when he found he was stuck.

“Get me out of this!”

“No can do,” Peter replied, over Mommy Shark doo doo doo doo doo doo.

The mugger shook his head, before spitting, “What the fuck is that song? Turn it off.”

“Hey,” Peter said, going for loud and authoritative, which was a difficult mark to hit with a baby on his back and Baby Shark playing out of his suit’s speakers. “Don’t fucking swear around her, she’s a baby you asshat.”

The mugger blinked before Peter looked to the woman, approaching slowly from the other end of the alley.

“Are you okay, ma’am?” Peter asked, and upon her confirmation, he asked Karen to phone the police and alert them to the mugger, before moving to the closest wall.

“Nice to meet you,” he said to the woman, and to the man, “Learn not to swear around fucking babies, dude.”

Peter made his exit and crawled up the wall, making it to the roof of his building and electing to hang out up there with Morgan for a few minutes, to keep up appearances, before abseiling back down to climb through a window back into his apartment.

When he was back, he pulled Morgan off his back, as she garbled something in time to the Baby Shark song that deserved its own circle of Hell.

“Sure, sweetie,” he said, “A lightning bolt is five times hotter than the surface of the sun. You’re right about that.”

Peter settled back into the sofa, checking her over for marks, just in case.

“You’re not going to tell your Mommy or Daddy about our little adventure today, right?”

Morgan hiccupped, said three words that weren’t really words and Peter smiled, pressing a kiss against her forehead.

“Good, we’ll keep it a secret. The Parker-Stark Secret Keeping Society officially has its first secret.”

(The Parker-Stark Secret Keeping Society’s first secret was found out less than twenty-four hours later when the official police report of the mugging somehow got back to Tony Stark, who then took it upon himself to watch the Baby Monitor footage from Peter’s suit. The woman described Spiderman with a baby on his back, and there was only one baby that could possibly be.

“You took Morgan out with you when you were Spiderman?” Tony asked the second Peter’s apartment door closed.

“It was an emergency-”

“An emergency.”

“I had a thing-”

“A thing.”

“I didn’t have time to drop her off with anyone! And it was right outside my building – but don’t worry, it went fine, she was on my back the whole time. She saw nothing, Tony, I promise – I think she even giggled when I headbutted that mugger-”

“When you what-”

“Nothing, Tony. When I did nothing at all.”

“Right, when you did nothing at all. Because if you did something, that fact would make its way back to Pepper.” Peter gulped. “And then so would the fact that you swore around the baby.”

Peter opened his mouth and shut it again. He swallowed. “Good thing I did nothing at all.”

Tony nodded slowly. “Nothing at all.”

The Parker-Stark Secret Keeping Society had its second official secret.)

[raendown]

I think tumblr blocked the original post from being searched but this is just a little thingy for Valen-tied Day. 

Pairing: IzunaKagami Word count: 2654 Rated: M Summary: Kagami follows his dreams to try something new. Izuna sets everything back to where it should be. They both come away completely satisfied.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header! 

(In)Subordinate

“I really hope you’re sure about this.” Kagami was perfectly aware of the strange dichotomy between his words and his actions, thank you very much. But really it was no less than normal to be worried about one’s first time for anything.

His first foray in to bondage, of all things, was definitely something he was allowed to be nervous about. Especially considering it was also his first attempt at dominating another person in any way.

Not that he was scared or anything. It wasn’t his ankles currently being strapped in to sturdy cuffs with chakra suppressant seals painstakingly carved in to the leather. That honor went to his partner of four months, the only man alive who had the ability to make him simultaneously melt in to a puddle and run for the hills. Fumbling his way through asking Izuna on that first date was both the best and worst decision of his entire life. He had yet to actually regret it.

“Get out of your head,” Izuna tried for a soothing tone, marred only slightly by breathy arousal. “You’re the one that keeps having wet dreams about this, you’re not allowed to have second thoughts.”

“I just want to make sure this is okay! They’re not too tight, are they?”

With a pensive expression Izuna wriggled. “No. They’re perfect.”

Kagami straightened and stepped around in front of the other man to admire his work. He had to admit that reality turned out to be even better than his recurring dreams, quite a feat considering how hard he always woke up afterwards. Izuna looked like a delicious meal like this, kneeling on the floor with his back arched, arms tucked in behind himself, both wrists bounds and secured to the cuffs circling his ankles as well. The restraints left him completely at Kagami’s mercy.

To be trusted so completely by a man so famous for his inability to trust anyone was…there were no words for how deeply it had touched him when Izuna was the one to suggest they try out the scene that kept waking him up at night. Even now as he tested the chakra seals and realized that he wasn’t able to so much as sense his own presence he still remained perfectly calm, looking back up at Kagami with nothing but love and the banked arousal from slowly peeling each other out of their clothes, trading kisses and gentle touches as they went.

“May I service the master please?” he asked in a low, sultry voice. Kagami swallowed thickly. Role play wasn’t something he had much experience with either but he did understand the general concept and damn if the very thought of being Izuna’s master wasn’t already sending spikes of lust to his core.

“I suppose you’ve earned a treat,” he heard himself say. In that tone it was hard to recognize his own voice. His cock was already hard and jutting out proudly as he stepped forward and took a fistful of Izuna’s hair to pull his face forward. “Suck,” he commanded. “If you do well I might let you come too.”

His partner wasted no time shifting back as far as the grip on his head would allow and lipping at the cock almost literally shoved in his face. It was a bit of an awkward struggle chasing it down and fitting his mouth around it without hands but finally he had the head in his mouth, suckling gently and making a show of rolling his eyes back with pleasure.

Kagami fought back a groan. If he was the master in this situation then he needed to stay in control and remain strong in the face of the glorious pleasure bursting through him every time Izuna bent forward to take as much cock in his mouth as he could. His tongue came in to play a moment later, sliding along the underside of the shaft with each bob, and it was clear by the look in his eyes that the restraints had already begun to frustrate him. His blowjobs were usually accompanied by wandering hands that always knew just how and where to touch to drive his partner out of his mind. To be denied his usual tricks and forced to rely only on that clever mouth of his had him furrowing his brows in determination.

Should it be this sexy knowing someone wanted to put so much effort in to pleasuring you? Because Kagami definitely found it very sexy.

It was a bit of a fight not to rock his hips forward – until he wondered why he was bothering to restrain himself. This entire scene was supposed to be about him dominating his usually dominant partner, after all, and he was smart enough to spot any possible signs that Izuna wasn’t enjoying something he was doing. A smirk quirked his already breathless lips as he petted the silky hair unbound and spilling over the older man’s shoulders. He waited until Izuna lifted his eyes just enough to peek up at him curiously before taking a handful in a tight grip and guiding him deeper, hips pressing forward just far enough that he knew he wouldn’t cause any surprise choking.

Getting nothing but a soft moan in response almost ended things right then and there. When his fingers released Izuna all but dove forward to ride the thrust of his hips. Sage, what good deed had he done in a previous life to deserve this? On visuals alone this whole venture was even better than he’d thought it would be. His dreams had always been vague, sort of hazy around the edges and unclear on some parts, and Kagami realized a little too late that he had activated his Sharingan to capture every detail of the delicious portrait before him.

Wrist bindings just barely visible from this angle, arms held straight and back, long neck exposed with the way his chin was lifted and his eyelids fluttering as he swallowed around the cock in his mouth like a tasty treat. Each time he managed to lift his eyes his gaze was an intoxicating mixture of heat and barely contained submission. Izuna would never make a very good submissive, they both knew that very well. That he had agreed to this at all was surprising but that didn’t change the fact that he looked amazing in the role he had deigned to fill for at least one evening. Yet as amazing as he looked Kagami was startled to realize how enticed he was by the idea of filling that role himself. Those dreams that woke him night after night with their blurry details made clear only by the lewd sounds that always chased him in to waking again, could he have interpreted them wrongly?

His thoughts scattered like ephemeral fragments when Izuna moaned around him in that dirty way of his that always shut down Kagami’s brain. Was he excited by the idea of being the one on his knees, restrained and used for the other’s pleasure? Absolutely he was. Did he have the ability to concentrate on that possibility at the moment? He very much did not. The rest of the world was very rapidly falling away until all that existed was the perfect heat surrounding him and the eager body all tied up in such a pretty package at his feet.  

“You’re doing so well,” he murmured, tracing the bulge of Izuna’s cheeks and trying to sound much more confident than he actually felt. “I’m so close, pet. So close. Think you can make me come without your hands?”

Izuna didn’t even bother to pull away to make room for speech, his answer clear in the doubled enthusiasm and the moan of arousal.

“So good for your master,” Kagami murmured absently. His own tongue yearned for the weight of Izuna in his mouth, for the triumph of bitter seed spilling down his throat. Thinking about it sent shivers down his spine and he had to fight to keep his eyes open and focused on the man kneeling at his feet.

Embarrassingly, he was pretty sure Izuna could tell what thoughts were running through his mind. The dark eyes watching him were half-lidded and wicked as he continued his work and the more Kagami’s façade of control crumbled the harder Izuna worked to tear him down even faster, tongue working in ways that should be impossible but felt much too good to question. The heat and the slick glide of his mouth, the eyes that now refused to look away, the way his body seemed to project absolute submission at the same time that he seemed to realize he was still somehow the one in control, it was all too much.

Kagami came with one hand in his partner’s hair and the other on the man’s shoulder, bearing his own weight as he bowed under the intensity of the pleasure. Short noises muffled by the clench of his teeth made a mirror of the way his hips stuttered and jerked. Under the guise of being a proper submissive Izuna worked him through his orgasm until he was forced to pull the other away with both hands just to prevent himself from collapsing entirely or anything else that would have been equally as embarrassing.

“Fuck,” he whined as the head of his cock slipped out from between Izuna’s lips, the cool evening air sending shudders down his back. “That was…wow. Okay. Yeah. Definitely your turn.”

“Have I pleased the master?” Izuna purred. His voice carried a very distinct note of teasing.

“Gods yes,” was all Kagami could say.

On shaking knees he fumbled his way around to sink to the ground at Izuna’s back. Trembling hands traced the arms he had bound, following them up to thin shoulders and around to the chest panting in anticipation. His thumbs paused to trace circles around sensitive nipples and he stopped only when Izuna’s head snapped to the side to pin him in place as surely as if he were the one bound and helpless.

“Touch me,” his partner demanded.

Kagami could do nothing but comply. Knowing the other could order him around even when he was the one tied up had his spent cock twitching with interest already, an idea to be explored later. One hand remained where it was to pinch and tease while the other descended quickly to wrap his fingers around the neglected length waiting so patiently for his touch. Izuna let out a pleased sigh and let his head drop back to rest on Kagami’s shoulder, hips rolling in to the pressure of a firm grip, just the way he liked it.

“Yeah, like that,” he murmured. “Faster.”

At his back, Kagami buried his face in the other’s neck and whined. His hand followed the order without thought.

“Perfect, that feels perfect,” Izuna praised him. As they always did, the words went straight through him until he had to concentrate a little harder to keep his hand steady. Burying his face a little farther still didn’t do much to stop him from gasping with want at the sound of another quiet moan.

“I-is it good?” he asked, desperate to hear more of that silky voice.

“So good. Just a little tighter – that’s it, yes. Don’t stop, pet.” If he hadn’t already suspected then that emphasis would have been enough to tell him Izuna knew exactly what had been going on in his head and yet Kagami couldn’t even bring himself to be embarrassed anymore. He shuffled closer to fit his body against Izuna’s and sank his teeth in to pale flesh as he listened for every word, every sigh his partner granted him.

He didn’t have to listen very hard.

Praise and encouragement dripped from Izuna’s lips like fine wine, telling him how well he was doing and how good his touch felt, how he had behaved so perfectly. It didn’t take very much to have him rutting uselessly against the body in front of him as well as he could despite knowing it wouldn’t accomplish much, not when he could hardly maneuver around the bound limbs and it was still too soon for his cock to fully harden again.

It was almost a pity that Izuna was even more worked up than him and unable to draw it out any longer. When his partner crashed over the edge still spilling honeyed words Kagami found himself both relieved and disappointed, wishing he had to time to chase that same high again for himself. A little greedy, perhaps, but no one had ever accused him of being a saint no matter how innocent he was capable of acting. He certainly felt anything but innocent as he continued to stroke Izuna through the pleasure and shivered at the feeling of hot seed spilling over his fingers.

“Don’t stop,” his partner gasped. Izuna loved riding that edge of too much, too bright, and Kagami loved nothing more than giving the man what he asked for.

Only when the high started bleeding in to discomfort did Izuna shakily command him to stop. He did not tell him to let go, however. Kagami kept his face buried in the pale shoulder to muffle his helpless noises and did his best to convince his hips to go still, behaving without even needing to be told to do so. The hand still wrapped around a softening cock twitched with the desire to go on.

“Was it a dream come true just like you hoped it would be?” Izuna asked him in a tone that was both gently mocking and genuinely curious.

“Uh-huh.”

“You enjoyed yourself?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Do you want to untie me so I can tie you to the bed and spread you open?”

Kagami tried to respond, he honestly did, but it was lost in broken stuttering while his fingers scrabbled to unlock the cuffs holding Izuna’s wrists to his ankles. That probably made his answer fairly clear anyway though so he didn’t worry about it too much. It took only a few seconds to have everything undone and he waited with baited breath as his partner rubbed at his limbs to get the feeling back in to them after being restrained for so long. When dark eyes turned to look at him he felt his breath catch in his throat. He knew that look. That was definitely the same look that had led them to quite a few discoveries in the bedroom over the past four months.

Within a minute he found himself hauled over to the bed and pushed down on his back, wrists pulled above his head and cuffed to the headboard with the same restraints he had just untied. That was all his body needed to kick back in to high gear again. Izuna leered at the hardening cock he had been sucking on a few minutes before as he crawled up the mattress to settle in between Kagami’s thighs, smug satisfaction clear in every line of his gorgeous body.

“Now,” he murmured. “Who’s a good boy?”

“I am,” Kagami breathed without a single thought for disputing it.

“Ah, how the tables have turned. How about I show you what a real fantasy looks like?”

Closing his eyes with a frantic nod, Kagami made a mental note to interpret his dreams a little better in the future. Having Izuna at his mercy had been fun for sure but there was no denying his true nature in the bedroom, the role he was all too eager to fill.

“Yes master,” he whispered. “Yes please.”

Some people were just born to serve. And if he was one of them, well, Kagami had always tried to do his best at the tasks expected of him. If Izuna wanted to help him chase his dreams then he was ready and willing to follow where his partner wanted to lead.

[velvetchen]

Dynamic | pt. ii

[ back to masterlist ]

Scenario: Superhero AU Pairing: Chen/Reader Word Count: 3009 Rating: T (warning for language)

Summary: You’re the leading superhero of the city, and you’ve fought Dynamo for years. It’s the way it should be - good vs. evil, hero vs. villain. But what happens when a bigger evil threatens everything?

<< previous part x next part >>

The alarm blares, startling you out of your sleep. Then your phone alarm rings, too, and it’s halfway across the room, so you have to get out of bed and turn it off. You’re completely groggy, your eyelids sticking together like paper. You’re about to lie down for five more minutes – it was a Saturday, wasn’t it - when you remember what it is and groan.

Orientation.

Not yours, of course. Your classes already started two weeks ago. No, this was for the elementary school you volunteered at. You’d be meeting all the parents today, so you had to be dressed professionally. Groaning again, you stumble towards the bathroom. It’s six-thirty. In the mirror, you see your droopy eyes and drool crusting over your chin. You brush and then step into the shower, turning the water as cold as it goes, hoping it’ll shock you awake.

Maybe you shouldn’t have stayed up past midnight sewing your cape. But you were invited to an inauguration in a few days, and it had to be ready by then. Kyungsoo was even helping you with some programmed LED lighting that would look really cool – lighting up the cape in flashy patterns. It was only for public appearances, of course. You’d be damned if you actually fought with a cape. You’d probably cut it up with your blade on accident.

Sighing, you finish up your shower and dry off, stepping out wrapped in only a towel. Kyungsoo isn’t home, and Jennie hadn’t come back last night, so you were alone. You hum as you get dressed – a tune that turns into a song as you pull on your formal pants and button up your shirt. Then you do your makeup nice and simple and finish off with some perfume. It's seven-thirty when you put on your blazer and stand at the front door.

You don’t have a car, of course. Who needs a car when you can teleport? After making sure you have everything ready and shoving some toast in your mouth you close your eyes, think of the shed, and blink yourself there. It's close enough to the school to walk, but far enough away that nobody sees you. You step out and make your way down the street for the second time in two days.

When you reach the school, you're relieved to see that you're early. Miss Park is there already, making sure the classroom looks good. The handprint art the kids did a few days ago is pinned up on a clothesline across the room, and the bulletin boards are covered in older work.

“Hi, Y/N! Sorry,  I didn't notice you come in,” Miss Park says. “You're early, that's good. Can you do me a favor and just tidy up that paperwork on the desk, thanks!” She flashes you a smile and hurries out the door. You're alone in the room, so you blink yourself around the room, putting away papers there, cleaning up here. You're done by the time she gets back.

“Oh, done? Good,” she smiles. “The first parents are arriving.” You follow her outside to greet them.

Miss Park isn't that much older than you - still in university, maybe twenty-four or something. Still, she looks younger, childish even. She's so fun with the children, and you love chatting with her during breaks.

“There,” she gestures down the hallway. “Hello, I'm Miss Park…” The introductions trail off as they go on, and finally you've been introduced to all the parents.

Everyone's seated inside the classroom, the kids all quiet, Miss Park ready to start talking. There's a knock at the door. She gestures for you to open it.

Staring at you is the guy from yesterday, and next to him is tiny Minah, cheeks red and puffy from crying. He doesn't seem to recognize you in your fancier clothes, his gaze instead passing over to Miss Park, apologetic and with the same pout he had yesterday. “Sorry I’m late,” he says, wincing. “We had a bad morning and Minah wouldn't stop crying-”

“No problem,” says Miss Park, gesturing for them to join the rest of the group. She starts off with the orientation, but you're staring at him - Jongdae. His black hair is combed but messed up and his dress shirt is a little disheveled, but he's listening intently and his hands rest protectively on Minah’s shoulders, calming her down.

Your guess yesterday was that he couldn't be much older than you. But he was a father already? He must be much older than you first thought.

He catches your eyes on him and meets your gaze, and you watch him take in your face and realize who you are. The corners of his mouth lift before he turns his attention back to the orientation.

You catch him in the hallway afterward - or rather, you bump into each other again.

“Oh, hey,” he says, nonchalant. “Y/N, right?”

“Yes, that's me,” you say, fixing the shoulder strap on your bag. “Small world, right?” His smile relaxes and you continue. “I mean, I had no idea you were a parent here.”

“I - uh, Minah’s my niece,” he says, scratching at the back of his head. “My brother couldn't make it today, he’s busy. So I brought her.”

“Ah, of course” you reply awkwardly. “I thought you were a little young to have a daughter in first grade.”

“Right, I’m still in uni,” he laughs again. “You?”

“Oh, I just volunteer here,” you say. “I’m also a student.”

The conversation surprisingly goes smoothly, and by the end of the orientation you've exchanged numbers. He promises to text you, and you - as subtly as you can - bring up the idea of going to lunch.

“I can't today,” he frowns and checks his watch. “I have to drop off Minah, then I have...plans.”

“That’s all right,” you say as casually as possible. Stupid. He probably doesn't want to. “See you around then.”

You get the ping a little while later, just as you're finishing up lunch, on the National Superhero Network radar. Chaos downtown, a jewelry store hijacked and the owner held at ransom. The attacker disabled all the surveillance without any hassle and made away with some of the most expensive antique jewels.

It reeks of one thing - Dynamo.

You quickly pay for lunch and hurry to the bathroom, which is thankfully empty, before you blink yourself into the shed. There you step into your supersuit, paste the mask over your face, and tie up your hair. Purple contacts replace your glasses. Your Blades strap to your back, your extra gun at your hip. With so many years of practice, you’ve learnt to do this in under three minutes.

Then you blink yourself to the scene. It doesn't matter who sees, because you're Rush now. The unstoppable superhero. Dynamo’s arch nemesis. You grin and blink forward, appearing and disappearing over short distances until you reach the scene to conserve your energy.

You were right - it is Dynamo. There's a crackling fence of electricity surrounding everything. When you blink past it and into the jewelry shop, there's the familiar black-clad figure, the telltale scorpion embossed on the suit.

“Couldn't even wait a day to see me? Talk about desperate,” you call out. He turns to face you, and you feel him grin again. It's like a charge in the air.

“Ah, my lady has arrived at last,” he says and then your wrists are suddenly bound together by a thick rope of lightning. Your ankles, too.

“A jewelry heist,” you jab, trying not to look like you're bothered by this development. “So original. You really can't come up with anything else?”

He tightens the lightning-ropes and you wince, remembering the shock from yesterday. “I mean, last time was a bank robbery. Before that, another fucking bank robbery. Don't you get tired? I know I do.” You fake an exaggerated yawn as you try pulling your wrists apart.

Zzzzzzzp. You hiss. You're really trapped.

“What can I say?” Dynamo says, stepping closer. “The mafia’s been avoiding me recently, and I ran out of businesses to embezzle weeks ago. Besides,” He leans in, and you can actually hear his breathing inside his helmet. “There's just something romantic about meeting you in a jewelry store, isn’t there?” Fingers go down your spine. A burst of electricity follows, and you bite your tongue to keep from crying out in pain.

Now that was low. Maybe it was revenge for yesterday.

He walks away, over to where the jewelry store employees and bystanders are incapacitated in the same way as you, except they all have gags, too. You eye Dynamo. If you could distract him...it must be taking a lot of his concentration to maintain so many binds.

Think fast!

“Well?” you taunt. “Aren't you going to fight me? Or are you just scared I’ll beat you in front of the whole city...again?” The shock was making your nerves buzz, there was no way you’d be focused long enough to blink out of them.

“You're just going to tie me up and say it's a victory? That's a cheap victory and you know it,” you say, and he turns around to face you once more, hands crackling with lightning.

“Okay, you want a fight?”

“Damn right I want a fight.”

He doesn't wait another second, just flings a ball of lightning at your chest. This time you don't see it coming and blink away a second too late, reappearing sprawled on the floor and groaning in pain as residual sparks light up your body. “Fucking hell,” you groan. “Ass. You do that every time.”

“And you get hit every time. Sucks for you.”

Ignoring the aftershocks, you blink behind him immediately, arm wrapping around his neck in a chokehold. Electricity courses down your body again, a strong current that makes your muscles twitch, but you hold tighter. You can hear him gasping for air. The current gets stronger and you push the both of you forward until you hit the ground with an oof. Dynamo groans.

“There,” you pant, still wincing from the shocks. “Fucking finally.”

“If you wanted me under you so bad, you could have just asked.” His laugh is mixed with a cough as he rolls over and you stand up, putting your wedge-heeled boot on his chest.

“I could have, but where’s the fun in that?” You bat your eyelashes at him, then step off. “Come on, time to get out of here.”

He stands up watching you for a second. Then he shrugs, grabs the bag of jewels, and flies off.

“Hey, I meant without the jewels, you son of a -” Muttering under your breath, you sprint forward, drawing your Blades as you follow him. Damn Hoverboots! You really should have got some.

Blinking higher through the air, you follow after him as fast as you can, leaping from roof to roof, blinking onto windowsills and light poles as you go higher up. Soon you’re leaping from the top of the skyscrapers, a good fifty feet above him. Your blades are in your hands - two long katana-like swords, lined with glowing lasers to cut through anything. The third one, a ring shaped Blade that you wielded like a really sharp Frisbee, is still strapped to your back.

Hmm, maybe you’d try that one. Switching weapons quickly, you blink up to a good vantage point and fling it towards him. Dynamo spins around as it reaches him, catching it in a web of electricity and flinging it back at you. It slows down enough for you to catch it as it recognizes the sensors in your suit. Scowling, you throw it again, this time tumbling through the air and blinking forward so when he dodges it - just barely, you note smugly - and rebounds off the asphalt below, you blink into just the right position for you to catch it and throw it again.

You vault forward to match its speed, ricocheting off the nearest building and blinking into existence right behind Dynamo, just as the Blade thunks into his armored shoulder. You wrap your arm around his neck again, and you plummet to the ground together.

Dynamo’s Hoverboots kick in at the last second and you come to rest gently on solid ground again.

“I’ll take that,” you say, retrieving the bag of jewels. “And that.” You pull your Blade out of his shoulderplate and strap it back on.

“Ow,” he rolls his shoulder. “That's going to leave a bruise.”

You grin. “Something to remember me by, so you don't call me back for a toy store robbery just so you can see me again.”

He’s sulking, you can tell.

You wink at him and blink off, speeding back along the ground towards the store. Along the way you can hear cheers, shouts of your name, and you slow down in places to wave or sign autographs.

“Mom, look, it's Rush,” says a little girl wearing a shirt with a cartoon of you on it. When the merchandise started rolling out, you were more than a little overwhelmed. Only the big leagues got that kind of hype - Archangel, Glamour Girl, Whirlwind - you’d grown up with their action figurines, their faces advertising things and plastered on the covers of magazines. When you joined them, it felt ethereal.

“Hey, little superhero,” you say, going up to the girl and taking the pen and paper she gives you. “How are you today?” You sign the paper and step back, blowing her a kiss. Then you blink and are on your way.

It wasn’t just Dynamo and the other villains you had to fight. With them, your life - and their lives - were never really in danger. It was just a show of good trumps bad, light beats dark. It was a show of hope for the people. That's why you’d never kill Dynamo, or he’d never kill you.

It was the smaller things, like saving people from fires, helping people in disasters, stopping the back alley muggings and murders. That was the stuff that threatened you. That was the stuff they never telecast on the media unless you were successful, and if you weren't - if you were injured or killed, they covered it up.

Heroes were hope. They couldn't lose that, and it made the pressure huge sometimes. You wished it was all just fun and games.

You stop by a few more people, shaking hands and smiling. A small crowd by a supermarket calls out to you, and you blink over, smiling.

A teenage girl gets a kiss on the cheek. An old man gets an autograph. The next person, though, surprises you.

You almost say his name, but catch yourself at the last second. Instead you bite your tongue and smile again. “Autograph?”

“I, yeah. I’m a big fan.” Jongdae smiles shyly and holds out a tablet. Oh god, you’re blushing. Thank god for the mask.

You sign it and hand it over. When your fingers brush, it sends familiar tingles up your arm. Pulling away as quickly as you can, you hurry and blink back to the jewelry shop.

After returning everything and making sure everyone was okay, you reappear in the shed and slump down on the floor, not bothering to take off your suit yet. Using your powers drained you and made you drowsy, but a quick nap and some sugar usually fixed it.

Here isn't the place for a nap, though, you tell yourself, and pull yourself to your feet. Peeling your suit off limb by limb, then your mask, then your contacts. You dress in your regular clothes and step out again, walking as casually as you can down the street and to the main road, where you can catch a bus to your apartment. Thankfully, you don’t encounter anyone on the way, and soon enough you’re at your door, fumbling with your keys.

You can’t wait to go take a nap, but you have to eat something first, so you grab some ice cream out of the freezer. Not the healthiest option, but hey, you just saved the day, right?

“Hey, Y/N, when did you get back?” your roommate Jennie asks, walking into the kitchen. She looks like an absolute mess, her hair plastered to her head and makeup streaking down her face. She’s still in party clothes from the night before, a bright red bandage dress that’s half-unzipped.

“Just now,” you reply through a mouthful of mint chocolate chip. “You look like death. How was last night?”

“Insane,” she says, but with a groan. “I was dead drunk, couldn’t even walk. Someone took me home and I woke up in bed with another couple.” She shakes her head. “I have, like, the worst hangover of all time.”

You hold out your ice cream and an extra spoon, and she takes it. “Thanks. Ugh. How was your day?”

“Usual. Wait, I met this guy. He’s nice as hell and he gave me his number.” Your phone buzzes. “Shit, I think that might be him.” Jennie leans over to look at your screen as you open up the message.

[unknown]: Hey Y/N it’s Jongdae! ^-^  [unknown]: Sorry I turned you down today, do you want to get brunch tomorrow?

“Wow, that was fast,” Jennie says, raising her eyebrows. “Say yes, what are you waiting for?”

You: No problem, I’d love to! What time?

Jongdae is typing . . .

You bite your lip.

Jongdae: Does 9 30 work for you? You: 9 30 is perfect, I’ll see you then :)

The phone screen fades to black. For the first time, you actually have a date. You’ve been asked several times, sure, but you always turned them down – what if you had to leave halfway? What if you keep having to leave halfway? You blow the hair out of your face, thinking. This was just brunch, right? What was the worst that could happen?

[hashtagartistlife]

the body electric

Rukia’s good at kido. Ichigo’s good at learning.

This was originally written for an old deathberryprompts, 'electric', but then I didn't finish on time so it was going to be for the first day of irmonth, 'missing scene/episode tag', but then I didn't finish it on time for that either, and now I don't really know what it is, now. But it's been a while since i've posted anything new and i just, need to stop tinkering with this and just get it OUT of my WIP folder. so, here it is. 

Rukia’s good with kido. Ichigo hadn’t managed to appreciate it on that first night, when he broke through her bakudo with sheer force of will, but it soon becomes evident just how fine her control over this nebulous subject is. Even with most of her powers gone and only dregs remaining, she manages to hold her own against lower-class hollows, hurling blue fire and binding them with nets of light. Ichigo loses count of how many times she saves him from his own incompetence by way of a cleverly placed chant or two, how many times she spares him from the pain of a rake across his shoulder or a broken bone.

She’s good at both attacking and restraining, but to his surprise, she’s most proficient at healing; her bedside manner leaves a little to be desired, but the touch of her fingertips on broken skin is always gentle, and the pure focus she directs at the wounds leaves him tingling, like he’s got electric currents running through his veins. If he is a little less vigilant than he should be, knowing that any injuries he sustains will be subject to her lithe fingers sweeping over them, well— he doesn’t like to admit it, not even to himself.  

It doesn’t take long for that kind of carelessness to backfire, though, and one night he’s sitting on a random rooftop, Rukia hissing with worry. The front of his shihakushou is drenched with blood, and her face is tight as she peels the wet cloth off his torso. He winces as shreds of skin come away with his clothes, and Rukia snaps at him.

“I told you to be more careful, fool, you almost got yourself killed—”

“But I didn’t, so would you quit nagging— SHIT, Rukia, that hurt—”

“You deserved it,” she says, but there’s a distinct lack of bite in her tone; Ichigo rubs the back of his head, still throbbing where Rukia’d whacked him, and stays silent as she sucks in a breath at the extent of the damage. He’s rather impressed himself; his entire front felt like it was on fire, sure, but he hadn’t expected it to look like it’d been put through a shredder. He grits his teeth as Rukia lays her hands over the wound and gets to work.

The first spark of her power into him is always startling; fresh and cool, like a winter morning. Then, a low, continuous stream, fluctuating occasionally, like the comforting hum of the refrigerator in the middle of the night. Ichigo loves watching her like this; it’s the only other time, apart from when she’s asleep, that he can stare at her freely and not expect an elbow into the softer parts of his body. She’s all sharp concentration—fierce eyes and precise hands—and Ichigo lets a long, shallow breath go as the kido starts knitting him back together.

It takes longer than it usually does for him to heal to an acceptable extent, but then again, he'd taken more damage than usual, too. By the time she’s done, Rukia looks pale and wan. Ichigo grabs her arm before she can stumble off the roof and she jerks away from him with a cry of pain.

“You fool, what do you think you're—”

He lets go of her hastily. “Are you— are you hurt—”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she says, but her words don’t match her actions; she’s cradling her arm into her chest, keepings its weight off the shoulder joint. He thinks, exasperated, how it is just like her to tell him not to be ridiculous when she is the one being a moron. His mouth takes on a grim set and he gestures to the roof tiles.

“Sit. You can’t go to school tomorrow in that state. You should heal it before we go back.”

She glares at him a moment before responding. “I don’t have any power left. Some fool got more injured than usual so there’s nothing I can do about this,” she indicates her shoulder with her chin, “Until tomorrow afternoon, at the very least.”

That takes him aback for a second or two; surprise then guilt washes over him, thick and acute. He hadn’t anticipated this as a consequence for his lack of vigilance. That Rukia will be in pain because of him—

A thought stops him. “If— if it’s power that you’re lacking, can’t you take some of mine?”

The look she throws him is scornful. “If that were possible, don’t you think I would have already taken them back from you and left a long time ago—”

OK, that one hurts in places he didn’t know he had. He tries not to think of why that might be (it comes from the same place that his carelessness does) and presses on. “No, I mean, not take them back completely. Can’t I just— channel some of my reiatsu into you, and you can direct it or something?”

She’s waving him off before the sentence is finished, but he persists. “Why not? Doesn’t look hard. Isn’t healing kido just you putting your hands on me and pouring reiatsu in anyway?”

“Ichigo, you can hardly control your reiatsu enough to mask it, let alone pour it into somebody else. I’m not about to let you anywhere near a medical procedure—”

“—But you’re in pain.”

He doesn’t know why that slips out; it’s hardly an argument likely to sway her. Rukia’s face takes on an odd expression that he can’t quite interpret.

“...I mean, it’s just— you could not be, you know, and it’s my fault anyway—”

In response, Rukia sits back down on the roof, and starts unbuttoning her shirt.

“RUKIA— WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOI—”

“Hush, you fool. Skin-on-skin contact is the first requirement for basic healing kido. Shut up and sit down next to me, if you want to help.” She slips the shirt off her injured shoulder, halfway down her arm, and Ichigo is kind of mesmerised by the sharp line her scapula makes against the skin of her back. Staring, he kneels awkwardly at an arm’s length from her side.

She sighs in annoyance. “Closer, idiot.”

He shuffles nearer sheepishly.

“Put your palm against the shoulder,” she instructs, and Ichigo tries to refocus; now that the moon is out in full, there’s more light around, and he can see the joint looks swollen and bruised. He winces in sympathy and wraps his palm around the area, fingers curving over the collarbone, almost touching her spine.

“And now your other hand on top,” she tells him, and he complies; she burns beneath his touch, and he can’t tell whether it’s from the inflammation or if she always runs this hot. He should know, shouldn’t he? It isn’t his first time touching her skin. At least, he thinks so. It's strangely difficult to concentrate.

She puts a hand on top of his interlaced ones and breathes out. “Ok. Now try pushing your reiatsu into me. A— a little at a time, if you can, so I can control it….”

Trying to channel his reiatsu out instead of restraining it in is a new experience; it takes him a few tries and a couple of singed hairs, but eventually he refines his energy into something acceptably similar to Rukia’s steady stream. He can feel it dissipating under her skin, being directed by Rukia to wherever they need to go. Somehow, this exchange seems much more… intimate than their usual closeness, and the thought is dangerously distracting; he tries to ignore the way that he’s hyper-aware of everything, the softness of her skin, the fragrance of her hair.

(And wasn’t she using his shampoo? Why does it smell different on her compared to him? He’s smelled this shampoo on Yuzu before and he could swear it smells nothing like the scent coming off Rukia right now— and oh, god, focus, Ichigo.)

After too long (and not long enough), Rukia heaves an unsteady sigh and takes her hand away from his. Ichigo takes a minute or two to react, blinking sluggishly and stretching the fingers that he now realises are cramping. How long had they been on the rooftop, curved together—? He looks back at her to ask the question, just as she looks towards him, and all of a sudden, they’re way, way too close; enough for him to see the reflection of the streetlights in her eyes, enough for his each of his breaths to stir her eyelashes. He’s seized by a reckless and foreign impulse, to lean in just a little bit more, and—

She hits him with her newly-healed arm.

“OW— what was that for?!”

“For getting injured like a moron in the first place,” she sniffs, rotating her shoulders to check that they are in working order (they are. The rapidly-forming bruise on Ichigo’s midsection can attest to that). “What do I keep telling you? You have to hit them from the back, one clean slice—”

“Look, my way of fighting works just fine—”

“Which is clearly why we dropped onto this rooftop, tracking blood everywhere.”

“But did I die?”

The look she gives him could wither entire trees in summer. Ichigo has to fight to keep the blush down.  

“.... Forget I said that. Let’s just get off this fucking roof,” he mutters, strapping his sword to his back and dusting his knees off. Rukia just snorts, her shirt already buttoned up and tucked neatly into her skirt. She makes an imperious gesture, and Ichigo kneels in front of her rather grudgingly; she hops onto his back, and he leaps off the rooftop, her arms snug around his neck.

“You didn’t die,” she says, after a few minutes of silence and the night rushing by them. “You didn’t die, but you could have.”

“Nah,” he tells her, easy now that they’re back on familiar ground. He can’t see her face, but her arms tighten around him.

“Yes,” she insists, a well-worn edge of guilt in her tone. “Ichigo, you don’t understand, tonight, you really could have died—”

“Nah,” he repeats, stronger. He glances back at her, takes in a flash of milk-white skin, black hair tossed to disarray in the wind. “You were there. That’s what you do, right? Save my dumb ass from getting killed. That’s what you’ve always done.”

She’s silent for so long after that that he thinks she’s fallen asleep; he alights on his windowsill, preparing to change his grip on her so he can carry her to the closet, but before he can do so she hops off his back, landing with a muted thud on his bed.

“I won’t always be, though,” she says, softer than his feather duvet, and it takes him a while to remember what they’d been talking about.

“Oh, yeah? Only one thing to do, then,” he says, deliberately flippant; desperately trying to ignore the way that her last sentence sets his insides twisting. He won’t examine why that is, just as he won’t examine too closely the strange urge he had to lean in closer and the secret, reckless part of him that thinks it’s worth it to get injured just for the feel of her hands on his skin.

She looks at him skeptically. “And what might that be?”

The smile he wears for her then is rueful in the dark.

“Teach me kido.”

(... And this, folks, is a fic that epitomises why I shouldn't write unless I have a very clear point to make. Some people are good at writing the everyday and mundane; finding the special meanings in a small ordinary gesture and making a simple, quiet scene between two people into something worth writing and reading about. I am not one of those people. I require a grand sweep of a narrative, a thematic anchor, some sort of common thread or point or feeling or //whatever// that I'm trying to convey through the fic. I just, I can't DO mindless fluff and I can't DO simple domestic if simple domestic is all there IS to the fic. make no mistake, i'm not insulting the simple domestic fics and small cutscene fics and what have you. In fact, I really respect people who can write stuff like that, because I'm /just so darn bad at it./

anyway, at first i was trying to shape this fic so i could end it with a sentence about how rukia's smile was far more electric than any kido running through his body (because the theme was electric, har har), but the fic wasn't cooperating, then i thought 'well hell if im gonna write about rukia's smile i should tie it back in with his 'i remember now why i wanted to save you so much' spiel because i wanted to explore that ANYWAY, but then i felt like I didn't want to '''''waste''''' a fic topic like that on what's basically a throwaway drabble, and THEN I was just trying to finish the fic and there was that WEIRD bit of sexual tension that came out of nowhere so i was like 'well i mean sexual tension is sort of electric and like ichigo is in that age range maybe i should make this fic explore that' but idk???? it just didn't happen that way, and THEN there was that weird bit of introspection on rukia's part when ichigo says 'that's what you do, save my dumb ass from dying' and i was like, 'this is Deep nd Meaningful bc in rukia's view that's the exact opposite of what she does bc kaien, right, oh i should expand upon that too' but like. by this stage i was just tired so i just ended it so abruptly. can you believe the original fic was just 'hey i think a lot about rukia using kido in early karakura and i wanna know how ichigo felt about this kido and was he ever curious about it and maybe he wanted to learn it???' except this fic managed to do NONE of the things i wanted it to do and. haha. hahahaha. but i didnt want to discard it because there are!!!! good phrases in here!!!! and god, kids, never get into writing as a hobby, it's a shitty shitty idea, don't do it. anyway. whatever. i hope u guys enjoy regardless, this was just my little behind-the-scenes rant :'))

[anniehowsback]

13X02: the good, the bad, and the bucklemming

I don’t have particularly strong feelings about a certain writing duo, so when one of their episodes rolls up I just strap on for the ride, keeping in mind what their strengths and weaknesses generally are.

I’d say this episode was a mix of both. I enjoyed it well enough, and I’m looking forward to see where the story is going to go, but let’s be honest: this was just setting the pieces on the board, exposition, and opening up the storyline without bringing it forward yet. This is exactly their forte, so kudos for assigning it to them.

((as an aside, I imagine the Writing Room with whatever current Showrunner pointing to a whiteboard saying they need to establish six key points before they hit the next episode or the season arc is fucked, and everybody just turns to look at Eugenie and Brad and they just say ‘on it’ and ‘but we’re re-inventing the lore to fit them in’ and the Showrunner just sighs and says ‘do what you gotta do, but get it done’))

Good

I enjoyed Alex Calvert’s performance in this one more that the first episode. I found it more nuanced, though I suspect the first suffered from wanting us to believe Jack was evil at the beginning (There was no grey area. He just made evil expressions, so of course you have to think he’s straight up evil; kinda killed the suspense for me). His expression when he recalls Lucifer talking to him in the womb, and then later at the skip with Sam, was very well done.

I like that Asmodeus is an antebellum slave-owner type. A white supremacist is exactly the kind of villain we need now. And I think the actor really pulls off the total-white look, which not everyone can *cough*Jared*cough*.

I’m also betting that “the utter pain and humiliation forged a bond between us” and the fact that the first thing he tried to do with Jack was free his pet project the Shadeem, of whom even Lucifer is scared “as well he should”, means that, despite his party-line, Asmodeus has no interest in serving Lucifer, he totally wants some payback.

Sam is getting to be more and more awesome, which I approve of greatly. He saves Dean (again! yay), he bonds with Jack... looking forward to his arc this season. I love that his faith in Jack is in part driven by his belief in Kelly’s and Cas’ judgement call, and that he’s essentially honoring their death by continuing their work.

Donatello’s always fun, though the material they gave him was pretty mediocre.

Dean... If we printed and bound the amounts of times we’ve said Jensen deserves an emmy, we’d get something the size of the encylopedia britannica. Basically all of his close-ups this episode are great little stories in themselves.

Hallucinating sheep ----> Song of Solomon (LOL). Where -off the top of my head- the beloved’s hair is like a flock of sheep descending mount Arat in the golden sunset, or something like that. Unsubtle as a brick, but most people will have hardly noticed anyway.

The Black Spur Bar, where Dean sits alone looking at his phone (doing what?? texting Jody??? They must have called her to pull the APB on Jack the moment they hit the road. There’s no one else to call... perhaps he was looking at a certain instagram album he made a couple of summers ago?) with a glass sitting next to him and a beer opposite him. A drink he polishes off before leaving, but also before getting wasted, or hooking up with yet another blonde watress ready with a sympathetic ear. And by doing so he thwarts Asmodeus’ deceit.

Jack doesn’t like conflict, magically disappears to escape it, just like crazy!Cas did. This time it’s Sam who goes to find him, and he handles it much better than Dean did. Progress!

Jack using his power reflexivly because “it hurts!” Called it.

Nice Bunker shots.

Interested in seeing where AU!Michael goes from here.

Bad

I usually have too much respect for the profession to say this, but the directing had some straight up mistakes in there.

Two shots of Asmodeus raking his fingers down his scars? You have to pick one, that’s not the kind of thing that you can repeat, especially not in the same fricking scene. Come on!

Mary takes only two (2) steps back from Michael and Lucifer fighting. Yeah, sure. I mean, I guess you want to keep her in shot, but really? Really??

Speaking of Mary, she could totally take RandomHunterDude, even if she’s unarmed and he’s got a machinegun. You could have her bracing herself to deliver a kick in the nuts from the ground just as Lucifer kills him, and you still get him rescuing her, but without her looking like an incompetent fighter, which she is not.

The angels posturing like gunslingers at high noon. No, just... no.

The Bucklemming

“No females since the wars” I’m sorry, what. W H A T. That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. Unless they adress demons/angels specifically possessing all the women, everywhere (doubtful), how is it even possible that ALL WOMEN have been eliminated in this universe? The only possible solution is that this particular RandomHunterDude is so repulsive to women that they’ve been giving him a wide berth since the apocalypse. Yeah, let’s go with that. (Or it’s a meta point. But even then it’s still stupid).

“Nature vs Nurture debate!” “He���s a Nephilim, the son of Lucifer” “Nephilim become more powerful than the angel who sired them, which is Lucifer, who is an archangel” “Mould him!” “Amara sucked my soul out so I have trouble with moral conundrums” “This is hitting rock bottom” “Kids are always seeking their father’s approval” etc... oh, Eugenie and Brad, what would you do if suddently you couldn’t have your characters just speak their themes and motivations as plainly as possible *shakes head fondly*

“You can’t possibly know what I want”. A lot of people read this as the beginning of a cringe-worthy redemption arc for Lucifer. It’s possible. I’m of the opinion that he shouldn’t be redeemed, but I’m also not convinced that he is getting redeemed. See, we need our John mirror this season (we need several, truth be told), someone who embodies all the negative aspects of John’s parenting: the neglect, the projecting expectations, the rejecting his sons’ free choices, the burdening with unreasonable responsibilities... making Lucifer this kind of parent would be easy. But then there wouldn’t be any reason for Jack to want to follow him, and no story to tell. You need to put enough ‘good’ in him that when he’s reunited with Jack he’ll actually seem like a viable choice.

Verdict:

This Fuckhands McMike storyline is A W E S O M E and I can’t wait to see how it progresses.

Next Episode:

I hope you’re all ready to watch Missouri die, because trust me she is not getting out of it alive. It’s Patience’s origin story, which means that Parental Figure bites the dust.

[multiverseofmiracleshq]

THIS POST CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR AVENGERS: ENDGAME !!

STAGE II | PART I ( america’s ass ) → NEW YORK, 2012: returning to the infamous battle of new york, three original avengers were joined by scott so that they could try and get the tessaract housed space stone and the mind stone in the scepter following the defeat of loki. that’s easier said than done, however, as old familiar faces don’t work well with the laws of time travel.

THIS IS THE OFFICIAL COMPLETE CHAT LOG COVERAGE OF THE IC

STEVE: The Quantum Suit retracted from his body with a quick press of a button and as the cloudy air hit him, Steve felt his memories rush back and join this very moment in time. They lined up so perfectly that for a moment, he was disoriented. Suddenly his old suit felt suffocating. The shield strapped to his forearm weighed tons. Steve Rogers, the man who put down the shield after the Sokovia Accords, after giving up his mantle as Captain America — here he was, reliving a time when things seemed so much simpler. Easier. This team, the Avengers who existed in this time, they had no clue what was coming for them. What was truly behind the Chitauri and Loki. With a quick breath, Steve sucked in the ash and refocused. “Alright, we all know our assignments. We got two stones uptown and one stone down. Keep an eye on the clock and don’t be seen.” As he went to move into action, the cacophonous sound of rage filled the narrow street and Steve looked behind him to find Hulk — the old ragey, before Bruce merged with him Hulk — destroying the city around him as he ran through the Chitauri. The bellows and growls were reminiscent of a time not too long ago, and Steve swiveled his gaze to Bruce. “And do some smashing while you’re at it.”

BRUCE: Seeing a visage of his former self Bruce couldn’t help but rest his enormous head in his palms. His time as the Hulk was always foggy at best and seeing how destructive he appeared was more embarrassing than anything. At Steve’s suggestions he couldn’t help but sigh. “Seems gratuitous, but whatever.” Lazily, he ripped his shirt from his body and tossed it the wayside. In as sarcastic and unenthused of a fashion as possible he growled as he walked through the street, lightly punching a car. As he picked up a motorcycle and sent it hurdling towards the wall he couldn’t help but cringe at the the damage he had caused.

TONY: It was hard not to laugh as their Bruce stepped into the street. From where Tony stood off to the side, he suppressed his smirk fast enough to not be noticed, and then took a sharp breath in. It was time to go. “Alright, let me get a bird’s eye view–” With two fingers he double tapped his suit, and the white and black frizzled away into his normal gold and red. Within seconds he was off the ground and up to the top of his old building. It was strange to look inside and see yourself.. plus the rest of the original team, all beat up, all circled around Loki. It was like a dream, only you knew exactly what was going to happen. “I think things are about wrapped up. Time to hustle, let’s go.”

STEVE: Steve kept himself as discreet as possible as he climbed through the building, sticking to shadows, avoiding any S.H.I.E.L.D. / H.Y.D.R.A. staff he might come across. He was nearing his destination when Tony’s voice came through his ear piece. “I’m heading to the elevator now.” he responded. He got into position and waited patiently for the signal. Knowing he was about to come face to face with HYDRA again made him want to do a whole lot more than pretend, but Steve had to keep this clean, at least for the moment.

TONY: With all the action at the center of the room, Tony flew around to the very edge and snuck in as quietly as he could. The nanotech around him pulled away neatly and left him in SHIELD gear– much more discreet, and much more quiet. He ducked behind a wall and crouched down a bit, finding himself a bit freaked out at the presence of himself. The world almost ended this day. It felt like a million years ago, but as he watched it all unfold again it brought every emotion back up to the surface. The gang in front of him split as Loki was apprehended, and Tony watched as 2012 Steve Rogers turned around. He couldn’t help whisper through the comms, “Ugh, Mr. Rogers I almost forgot– that suit did nothing for your ass.”

STEVE: His eyes almost stuck with how hard Steve rolled them, but he still shifted in his step awkwardly. He was getting too old for this shit. “You’re real funny, Tony.”

SCOTT: “I think you look great, Cap,” Scott said earnestly, perched on Tony’s shoulder and lying in wait, “As far as I’m concerned— that’s America’s ass.” The sentiment- albeit odd -was punctuated with a salute, before Scott internally smacked himself. What the hell even was happening.

TONY: Tony watched as the 2012 Avengers went about their business. Members of SHIELD– scratch that, HYDRA– weaved in between them all professional like and started to take care of the two infinity stones. Loki’s scepter was boxed up, that was Steve’s job. And after watching the handcuffed Asgardian make a crack at 2012 Steve, Tony’s eyes made their way to the Tesseract off to the side. “Alright little buddy–” He whispered to Scott on his shoulder. “That’s our stone, and now it’s all you. You ready?”

SCOTT: “Alright—" Scott replied, readying himself physically and mentally, “-flick me.“

TONY: Ready, aim– flick! As directed, and with phenomenal aim he would have mentioned, Tony flung Scott over to the Tesseract when his former self was getting ready to carry it down with him. Another double tap to his chest and Tony was off, making a loop around the building in his suit to keep an eye on everything. “Alright– Cap, the scepter’s in the elevator as we speak.” He watched as it started to move down. “Just passed the 80th floor.”

SCOTT: Landing stealthily on the table where the secure briefcase was resting, Scott somersaulted before getting up into a sprint and sneaking up one of 2012 Tony’s fingers. Past Tony secured the glowing blue cube before turning to join the others in the elevator and Scott’s heart was racing. As this occurred, the former cat burglar found himself sneaking up the man’s arm, clinging to hair and the fabric of his shirt, all the while praying Tony wouldn’t react suddenly and squash him by accident.

TONY: After making sure Steve knew where he needed to be, Tony flew himself down to the ground and rid himself of his suit again. As he walked into the lobby, he grabbed a mask to complete to look (and to make sure no one else saw two Tony Starks) and waited for the 2012 team to make their way down. Once they did, he turned his back and let them walk right on past him until Pierce stopped them from leaving. Tony waited for Scott to do his thing, but the noise level climbed as his 2012 self argued with the head of SHIELD over the Tesseract– the exact same one that they needed. “That’s your cue Stuart Little, there’s now time like the present.” He stole a glance over his shoulder, and then slowly turned around, starting to panic.

SCOTT: Scott slipped into Tony’s shirt, suddenly overwhelmed by the scent of Axe– but he wasn’t about to call Tony out on that, there was no time. Clinging to the man’s arc reactor, Scott informed Tony he’d be shrinking small enough to pass through the minute cracks in the metal as a dispute appeared to have broken out between Past Tony, Past Thor and some secretary guy? Standing on top of what looked like a motherboard, Scott searched for the right component to remove, "Promise me you won’t die?” Gripping the piece as tightly as he could, he waited for Tony’s signal.

TONY: “You’re only giving me a mild cardiac dysrhythmia.” Tony’s eyes were wide with concern as he looked at the scene continue to unfold. “Just do it Lang! Pull the pin!”

SCOTT:  Just as Past Tony’s body hit the ground, the impact gave Scott the force he needed to propel himself forward and towards the case containing the Tesseract, sending it toward Tony with a kick.

TONY: As chaos ensued, Tony yelled for a medic so his 2012 self wouldn’t die. It was almost a bit comical, albeit sadistic, to see himself fall to the ground and try to breathe. He would psychoanalyze that later, but as everyone crowded around their Tony Stark, 2023 Tony grabbed the case with the Tesseract and proudly headed off with it. He told Steve and Scott to meet them in the alley, hoping to grab some pizza before they go, but as he opened the door to leave he was interrupted by a Hulk. The wall in front of him cracked open, and a big green arm smacked him to the ground. Tony lost his grip on the case and it went flying across the floor. Of course, it opened up, and the Tesseract landed nicely at 2012 Loki’s feet. It was a cruel form of irony to watch the sneaky Asgardian reach down and disappear with it in a cloud of blue smoke, and Tony could barely believe what just happened. There was nothing else he could do, so he pushed himself up and clumsily left for the alley, letting it sink in just how badly he had messed this up.

STEVE: Steve was hustling with a purpose, moving through the building swiftly to get out of sight. Speaking softly, he tried to reach Tony through the communicator. “Come on Tony, tell me you got that cube.” it was almost desperation, but it bordered more on worry. He was searching around himself, eager for a response, eager to get out of his building, out of this suit, and back to the time when things would be better. As he fixed his gaze back in front of him, Steve’s boots braked hard and he let out a tired groan. “Cut me a fucking break.” Standing a mere four feet in front of him was the masked crusader and now he knew why everyone hated that mask. The cut out highlighting his shaved baby face wasn’t exactly eye catching, but he guessed that was the point. Still, facing his past self from 2012, he didn’t really have time for that. “I have eyes on Loki.” his past self said with determination. Man that was annoying. “I’m not Loki,” Steve responded cautiously, setting down the briefcase. First HYDRA, now Steve. He wasn’t really winning any lucky awards. “I don’t want to hurt you,” Steve said to his past self, trying to keep the distance between them, but it was futile. His younger self was spunkier, he had more fight in him than Steve was ready for, and the shield came at him almost too fast for him to react. Almost. He blocked it with his own and the fight ensued. To battle himself was an odd test of how well he knew his own fighting style, but as a hard kick to his sternum pushed him back on his ass, Steve realized he didn’t really know much about himself. “I can do this all day.” Jesus Christ. “I know, I know.” Steve said as he pushed himself back up. He had to admit, it was a hell of a line. With a heave, he threw his shield and it collided with his past self’s shield, the two ricochetting and dispersing off the bridge. Then went the briefcase with the scepter in it, and then went Steve and his past self, falling floor after floor before hitting the ground, hard. Both scrambled to their feet, only for his younger self to get the upper hand. Steve felt his ass hit the ground yet again as his past self held him in a chokehold, and there was no tapping out of this one. Through the pressure on his throat, Steve bit out: “Bucky…is…alive.” and suddenly the pressure relieved as he was let go. Before his past self could even react, Steve delivered a blow that knocked his lights out and he rolled over, grabbing the scepter. He pushed himself up to his feet once again and took a moment to look down at himself. “That is America’s ass.”

SCOTT: Scott having watching what had just unfolded was without words and with stomach tied in knots. While he had never met this Loki fella the rumor mill said he wasn’t exactly one of the good guys. Noticing Tony’s departure he clung to his pant leg as a hitch hiker as they made their way out to the alley. Maybe this was supposed to happen? Yeah. It’s not weird for them to not tell him everything, they’re all just probably on the same page with their big genius brains. Now out o site and tucked away in the alley Scott grew to full-size and opened up his helmet. Spotting the less than accomplished look on Tony’s face made his expression droop. “That-” he said gesturing with both his hands to the site where Loki pulled a cosmic Houdini. “That wasn’t supposed to happen was it?”

TONY: “Nope. We blew it.” Tony couldn’t even bring himself to look at Scott, instead opting to open up the door to a beat up car and slide inside. He hung his out the missing window like a puppy waiting to be punished until he saw Steve arrive with the scepter. “Hey uh, Cap, buddy– we got a problem–”

SCOTT: Scott looked at Cap. While seeing the scepter in his hand brought a faint smirk to his face it quickly faded as the sense of failure set in. All he could do is put on a defeated look and nod along to what Tony said.

STEVE: Tony relayed it to him pretty quickly, leaving nothing important out but cutting all the filler. Steve was aggravated, but he wasn’t about to chastise him. Missions weren’t meant to be easy and shit was bound to happen. Hell, look at him. He just knocked out the bright eyed and bushy tailed Steve. Who would’ve thought. “Well what are we gonna do now?”

SCOTT: “Tony said we had one shot.” Scott through his arms up in a frustrated shrug. “This was our shot. We shot. Six stones or nothing. Six stones or nothing.” Scott found himself repeating the phrase purely out of stress. He was angry with Tony even though he knew he did all that he could to fix everything

TONY: “Will ya gimme a break, Steve? I did get smacked in the head by a Hulk so–” That really wasn’t important right about now. And Scott was starting to get on his nerves. Tony turned to a freaked out Ant-Man and raised his eyes. “You’re repeating yourself, you know that? Just-Just stop it! I dropped the ball, okay?”

SCOTT: “No! You’re repeating yourself! You’re the one repeating yourself.” Dammit, he was repeating himself. Pointing a finger at Tony, Scott was starting to boil over and he didn’t know how to handle all this pent up anger he just resorted to blame. “You wanted the time heist, you went on board with the time heist, you blew the time heist.”

STEVE: Steve just didn’t have the time for the tantrum, from either of them. "Are there any other options?” he paused before elaborating. “With the Tesseract?” As if what he was asking wasn’t obvious.

SCOTT: “No, no, no.” Replied putting his hands down to his sides. “There’s no do-overs remember? We each only got a ticket there and a ticket back. There’s no more particles so if you use them, bye-bye, you’re not going home.”

STEVE: “Yeah well if we don’t try” Steve raised his voice over Scott’s. “No one else is going home either.”

TONY: Tony was practically smacking his SHIELD mask against his face, trying to come up with something, as Steve and Scott argued. He could hear their voices but tuned out what they were saying, and then suddenly it dawned on his. He looked up, frantically glancing between the two of them and then standing up. “Shh! I got it!” He waved his hands around, trying to get them to be quiet. “There’s another way to retake the Tesseract and acquire more Pym particles. A little stroll down memory lane is just what we need–” He meandered over to Steve, making sure he understood his idea. “Right over to a nice military installation. Garden state.”

STEVE: A sense of understanding suddenly washed over Steve. “When were they both there?”

TONY: “They were– you know, they— I have a vaguely exact idea!” Tony fumbled through his response.

SCOTT: Scott’s head bounced between the two Avengers as if he were watching a tennis match “WHo’s they, what are we doing?” He asked cocking his head like a puppy.

STEVE: They were both ignoring him, too focused on this thin shred of hope. “How vague?”

SCOTT: “C'mon guys, what’s up?” He said feeling like he was being left out of the big save the day moment.

TONY: Tony let out a huff of frustration, trying to ignore Scott while reiterating his point to Steve. “I know for a fact they were there.” He was sure of it. He just had to convince Steve it was worth the shot. “And I know how I know.”

SCOTT: Head still bouncing back and forth, “What is?” He asked again growing ever more confused. These guys were on the same wavelength or something.

STEVE: Steve didn’t like it. He didn’t like it one bit, but what option did they have? “Guess we’re improvising.” He rounded Tony and came around to Scott, holding the scepter up for him to grab. “Scott-“ he put it in Scott’s hand whether he was ready to take it or not. “Get this back to the compound.” He turned back towards Tony, maneuvering in front of him. They were standing toe to toe. He started to plug the numbers in before glancing up. “Are you sure?” Without this shot, without it working, they may as well have died here with their past.

SCOTT: Scott hesitantly took the scepter from Steve. If Tony wanted to sacrifice himself on this gamble that was his business, but Captain America didn’t need to risk his life on this if he didn’t have to. “Steve, Cap, Rogers, America…"Scott awkwardly spit out still frustrated that he made him star struck. "Look, I love improv as much as the next guy but if this doesn’t work. If there’s no particles there this could be it. You could be stuck there. There’s no coming back.”

TONY: Tony nodded in response, starting to plug numbers into the time GPS on his wrist. “0-4, 0-4… Uhh, 0-7– 1-9-7-0–” He rattled off the numbers, repeating the ones Steve needed again until they were both on the same page. Then he turned to Scott, feeling his anxiety begin to cloud his brain, and tried to shake it off. “Thanks for the pep-talk, pissant.” There was no reason to be short with Scott right now, but this was a risk. A big one. And the weight of it was really getting to him. After a beat he looked back to Steve, thinking about what the two of them were about to do. “Do you trust me?” The question was genuine and hopeful, like he was afraid of letting him down again.

STEVE:  He did. “I do.”

TONY: Tony was scared. He was sure that fact was fairly obvious as he stood there next to Steve, his breath catching in his throat and his heart practically beating out of his chest. But this was their last shot at making everything right. And they couldn’t back out now. “Your call, Steve.” Tony readied his GPS, even though his hands were shaking.

STEVE: “Here we go.” They were final words, ones lined with doubt. However, there was just the faintest sign of hope.

[ Our heroes are sucked through time, returning to one another at the New Avenger’s Facilities in the year 2023 ]

CLINT: Clint Barton was no stranger to pain. His years training as an expert bowman to be used as a weapon, to be mind controlled and pitted against his friends and teammates, to countless beatings because sometimes a bow just wasn’t enough. Clint Barton had thought pain was merely physical, maybe a touch mental, but mostly he could bandage up, pop a few aspirin, and be back in the game the next day. He’d never felt pain before, though, not until he watched his family get swept up like a cloud in the wind, reduced to ashes and given back to the Earth. Not until Natasha’s hand slipped out of his own and he couldn’t pull his gaze away quick enough before he saw her collide with the rocks below. She was gone. His family was gone. Clint Barton was gone. The return to the present was too much for him and he collapsed to his knees, the hard surface biting into him, but he didn’t feel it.

BRUCE: This trip was the epitome of an out of body experience for him and one that filled him with more confidence than anything else on this mission had before. “Did we get them all?” he asked to the group, but it was at that moment when he saw Clint fall to his knees. He took a step forward. “You okay, Clint?” He glanced around for Natasha but couldn’t see her. Did she enter in her calculations wrong? Tone and face full of concerned he asked Clint a question he wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer to. “Clint, where’s Nat?”

CLINT: All he could do was meet Bruce’s gaze, and then Steve’s. The horror that radiated from Steve’s face was almost palpable, and Clint understood the feeling all too much. It was his fault she wasn’t here. It was his fault he couldn’t save her. He hung his head low, the guilt radiating over him.

BRUCE: Clint’s face said it all. Bruce’s jaw dropped as his knees buckled. He couldn’t believe it. Before he knew it he found himself dropping to his knees not far from Clint. In a moment of Hulk like anger he slammed his fist into the platform denting it and causing the entire lab to tremble.

TONY: As soon as they arrived back through the portal, Tony felt like he could breathe again. There had been a snag in the plan but they fixed it. Sure, he saw his dad and things got weird. It got emotional, it got a little screwed up, but the mission was done. Steve got what they needed and the briefcase at his side had the stone that they lost. But it only took a few seconds to see the empty space next to Clint. Tony had been looking forward to that smile of hers when they got back, the one she had on just before they left. It had only been seconds since then in real time. Mere seconds, and now Natasha was gone. And suddenly their victory didn’t feel like much of one at all.

[pinksweatergettingbetter]

warning, the following has mainly snarky (and possibly furious) opinions on Spirit of Justice. Reader discretion is advised.

alright... here we go. we’re starting the big one. this... thing is almost over.

we’re going back to........ kooraheen to finish this.

time to strap in for the long haul.

-

did Dhurke hijack the PP show or was he just watching it and he decided to make that speech at his TV

i honestly can’t tell because of the weird way the scene was set. it looks like a reflection from a TV screen, but it also fades like a broadcast being intercepted...

fuck I'm just distracted by Dhurke’s stupid voice. and uncomfortable at the actress playing Rayfa. imagine being the princess and having your favourite show turn you into a weird damsel in distress being manhandled by ninjas. gross.

also yay! they’ve got the indiana jones orb!! time to melt off some faces...

-

ok it was a hijacked show... ...why is there a news report on this in America? Are American troupes assisting in the Kooraheenese war?

-

“Daaaa-aaaad. What’re you up to thiiiiis time???”

i love how not-giving-a-shit-about-it apollo is here. and by love it i mean hate it.

oh, your long-lost adoptive father just happens to pop up on television starting a revolution, and this is the first time you’ve heard from him in like 20 years? huh, no big deal.

-

AND ACE ATTORNEY TURNS INTO THE JERRY SPRINGER SHOW

-

oh noooo... he’s one of THESE guys... ururughhhhghghgh

-

“Wait... don’t tell me you haven’t told anyone about me, son?”

“I’m sorry, dad, it’s just you didn’t exist up until now...”

-

“you just show up here without warning after all this time... what gives?”

apollo’s got a point there, pa. also Dhurke’s theme reminds me of Coach Oleander’s from Psychonauts

-

Apollo just instinctively knows that nobody wants to be around him unless they’re getting labour out of him. That’s... honestly really depressing. I mean I know it’s supposed to be a joke but I just can’t bring myself to laugh.

its just... apollo is legitimately so bitter and sad that i just feel awful for him. 

-

yeesh... this whole thing just started off super sour.

-

wait, the piano has sentimental value to phoenix? they mentioned he never practiced on it and he didn’t like being a piano player... does that mean this piano is something phoenix just happened to own, and has its own backstory? I WANNA KNOW

(snerk)

ok thats mean but it did make me laugh

-

the JACKET IS APOLLO’S

IT IS APOLLO’S

HOLY SHIT

the rest of this case can be total shit but at least we figured out the mystery of the discarded red jacket. 

-

“our houseplant was called apollo”

“was it a cactus?”

“How’d you guess?”

“cause apollo doesn’t get enough hugs, either!”

-

apollos dad is so cool he reads his son’s personal shit out loud. what a great guy!

-

“That’s too bad! You seem like you’d be a fun, cool guy to hang out with!”

when he wasn’t being a rebel and not having time for his kids, obviously.

-

THERE IT IS! 

siblings dont know theyre siblings joke is funny both normally and ironically because the writers need to FUCKIN GET ON THAT

also i love that he’s basically like “hey son, this girl doesn't resent me! you should marry her so that i can continue to get favours out of you!”

-

“What did Mr. Dhurke mean when he said he was the man who raised you, apollo?” i dunno, trucy... think with your mind brains...

-

“How come you never told me?!”

“Sorry, it’s just, capcom hadn’t butchered my backstory at that point yet.”

-

I honestly find it really weird that Trucy’s all chirpy about this. She of all people should know the sting of a dad just up and disappearing on you.

-

Dhurke: I have to steal this orb. I’m asking you two because youre lawyers.

Kay Faraday, sitting in the Capcom warehouse: (sneezes)

-

Dhurke: I made a stupid gamble. Hope you can bail me out, son I haven’t seen in 20 years!

-

nooo.... don’t bring Kurain Village into this, pleeeeaaase... I don’t want to have my favourite village ruined for meeeeee....

-

:3c i chose nope

-

i wonder what Trucy would do if Zak waltzed in and immediately asked her for a favour. tbf phoenix would probably launch him into the sun before he could set foot into the office but...

-

Ok... So Dhurke doesn’t actually want to fix the legal system; he just said that he wants to gain immense spiritual power which will somehow give him the legal authority to RULE Kooraheen. 

how does spiritual power have any effect on land deeds anyway? 

-

“Only the rulers of Kooraheen have ever laid eyes on the orb, Apollo”

and Ahlbi’s seen the box.

-

“I figured you were poor as fuck so I brought you a plate of sushi!”

ok either A) He thought so little of Apollo that he assumed he’d just be starving on the street

or B) He’s been keeping tabs on Apollo and knows that the WAA doesn’t make a lot of cash, yet he hasn’t made any attempt to contact Apollo himself. Until he needs a favour.

what a.... great guy.

-

what the FUCK

“here, as my second present... a PICTURE OF YOUR REAL DAD, THE ONE WHO CARED ABOUT YOU AND IS DEAD. HOORAY!”

i can tell theyre trying to do the ‘Hagrid gives Harry a photo album of his family for comfort” but its REALLY NOT THE SAME CIRCUMSTANCES.

-

His name was... JJ.

-

~as you know~

also why would a musician perform with magicians? 

-

y’know, ive seen pictures of Jove Justice so far. and A) he looks like a tool, and B) the designers were lazy as fuck and just slapped Apollo’s hair onto Phoenix’s face. I had a pretty negative opinion of him initially. I was thinking I wouldn’t like any of Apollo’s new dads.

But you know what? If they go deeper into Jove’s backstory and prove that he was a caring father, I’m ready to completely drop any criticisms of him and carry this guy on my shoulders

cause compared to Dhurke ill bet he's a freakin angel 

-

...welp... back to Kurain village. At least it’ll remind me of bygone days...

...heh, aw. it’s cute. i like the sparrows on the roof.

ooh! an updated theme, too! not quite as nice as the original but it is nice.

-

he was full of piss and vinegar

jesus

-

yeah, kids run around naked. its not super surprising.

-

“man, I miss that hut...”

apollo youre gonna make me cry;;

-

Ema: :) i’ll show you the way to Dr. Buff. SURPRISE, HES DEAD! AHAHAHAHHAHA

-

NOOO

MY SYSTEM FUCKED UP AND STARTED ME OVER FROM THE BEGINNING OF THE CHAPTER AAARGRRJHRFJ

id gone on a short break and i come back to this (weep)

-

...

does Dhurke have boobs..?

...or just extremely prominent pecs...

-

phew ok back on track. 

wait hold on. if Dr. Buff is in Kurain village, where is he staying exactly? All the houses in Kurain village are old-style Japanese; this appears to be a modern day number.

-

“please tell me youre joking”

“as if i’d come out here for a few laughs, Apollo”

yeah but youre not above leading him to the dr’s study and THEN telling him he’s dead WTF

-

ahah. further proof that stepladders are superior.

i mean i know he didnt actually fall off that ladder by accident or whatever but still

-

“you could say he died an honourable death...”

...crushed under his nerd books like a fuckin cartoon :T

-

YEAH

POPS

POHLFUCKYA

-

“I’m so sorry... It seems you’ve had quite a life.”

Why else would she say that except that some poor dialogue translator is secretly begging the series to stop fucking up his backstory

-

“I mean, middle-aged man with long hair and an eye-patch? You don’t see that everyday.”

just give Valant an eyepatch

-

hang on. why does an archeologist in America have Kooraheen’s founding orb anyway? I thought it burnt peoples’ faces off. And was super precious. Queen Garananana doesn't seem like someone who’d just hand out a precious ball like that.

-

oh huh they found an ugly dalek. thats two dalek references in this game now...

-

did i just... have a ladder conversation about a relic that looks like an airplane.

-

why does everyone keep making blithe jokes about the doctors horrible death..? does that usually happen or am i misremembering 

-

WHAT THE STATUE OF AMI AND THE URN AND THE GRAVY SCROLL ARE THERE NOOOOOO YOU GET YOUR SLIMY HANDS OFF THEM SOJ, PUT THEM BACK IN T&T WHERE THEY BELONG

god there’s even a coffee shelf. i guess this side of the room is the “Relics of a better game” section.

-

polly the clean freak. what a sweetheart :)

-

aw yeah baby

its printing time

-

oh yeah i forgot this version of printing SUCKS

but i do like the little pap sound it makes when you put down powder

-

...they have Datz and Dhurkes prints on file.

You guys sure rock at being undercover. 

-

ill give them credit for having the Dance of Devotion not rhyme in English.

seeing lyrics again just gives me flashbacks to Serenade tho

Guitar, Guitar... Up together to the sky...

-

MAY-OR DE-WEY

MAY-OR DE-We

wait that has the same number of syllables if you just say the pun

 PAUL-A TI-SHON

PAUL-A TI-SHON

-

...why the fuck is he in a palanquin 

anybody in a palanquin is bad news ALSO WHY DOES IT SAY RECLAIM THE GLORY OF KURAIN 

KURAIN DOES NOT HAVE POLTIICIANS. ESPECIALLY NOT MALE ONES.

SOJ. SOJ WHAT IS THIS FUCKERY.

-

oh yeah he’s a bad guy

-

...king of this fine nation. First of all... America doesn’t have kings. Second of all, Kurain isn’t a country, it’s a small village. Either he’s a moron or SOJ is fucking up at unprecedented speeds 

-

...did his theme song just ‘wheeee’

-

“Jerk Q. Public”

pffft

-

i wish you were golden boy. then you'd be morally questionable but entertaining. 

-

I'm very uncomfortable 

-

k so we’re back in Kurain and so far we’ve seen Zero women in total apart from Ema.

even the unnamed heckler was an old man.

is this the same Kurain Village I know?

-

wh- talk??

what do you mean talk???

i dont wanna talk to this guy he's a dickcheese!!!

-

Trucy’s 17 and she hasn’t studied politics at least a little yet? ...weird

-

“Its real name is the Crystal of Ami Fey”

wait what

-

“It’s been passed down for generations in the Atishon family”

WAIT WHAT

is he dicking around or is he distantly related to maya

or is he just totally dicking around

if so how dare he use Ami’s name in vain.

-

where is Datz from anyway

-

paul i dont mean to dash your hopes but becoming grand high emperor of kurain village will in fact not make you king of the world

-

datz sure is a good rebel... getting caught... and put in jail...........

damnit, Vore Machine, what am i gonna do with you?

-

well Apollo, from demon to deer. thats not bad.

-

dog-faced cop..??

if youre very sneakily referencing our old pal Gumshoe youve got another thing coming, Vore Machine. In the form of my fist.

-

“A shut-in? Sounds like it will be a challenge just to get a conversation going.”

yeah.... not like youve.... ever dealt with someone like that....... before....... hehe.... heh..............

-

how long has Datz been in jail if he already knows the cafeteria itinerary 

-

um guys; maybe you should be a tiny bit more concerned about Athena??

-

i just realized the Shichishito is gold. It’s green, you idiots. Or is that one too bent and bloody for display??

-

thats it folks thats spirit of justice 

apollo has become a living title drop

hes fuckin dead

-

what kind of bullets were those

-

yeah apollo, a fledgeling is equivalent to a private.

...also youre not a fledgeling youre near full experience capacity. this is your third... (and last...) year.

-

so Dhurke is in full stealth mode until it comes to a remotely operated drone that could have literally anybody on the other side? brilliant, pal. 

this is why your revolution’s taken like 23 years to get off the ground, jsyk.

-

...k komandir?

i thought you were supposed to be a parody of The Soldier. what are you doing calling people by Russian military names? did the red scare not happen in this reality?

-

pfft 

it’s so cute. 

im struggling between finding it adorable and being uncomfortable 

-

“in other words, something caused him to withdraw from the world...”

maybe his mom’s death??? maybe?????

does anyone in this game understand how a bad thing make a peoples’ brain go???

-

pretty impressive that a woman’s body could provide sufficient cushioning to soften such a drop.

-

lol. death attributed to random maniac. thanks soj.

-

“Private Justice! You’ve suffered a loss just like mine!”

“I have... and thats how I know how you feel.”

yes, i can remember exactly happened when i was a one-year old in diapers. exactly the same kind of pain and trauma.

look i know theyre trying to have a moment but there’s a huge difference between growing up orphaned and being recently bereaved. Sure, Apollo’s seen his fair share of hardship and his experiences aren’t to be devalued, but it’s not the same kind of pain as having your parents die later in your life, especially with the mom’s horrific demise.

Honestly, it’d make more sense if he brought up Clay, since Clay was with him since he was very small and his death was sudden and deeply unfair.

BUT CLAY’S IN THE PAST, CLAY DOESN’T EXIST, WHO’S CLAY?? I DONT KNOW BACK TO SPIRIT OF JUSTICE

-

YEAH

POHLFUCKYA DURKE

dhurke the burk  amiright attorneys 

-

“the opaque crystal orb is the key”

>needless adjective

>will come into play later in court

-

um so nobody’s gonna mention the blonde lady on his desktop background or........

-

i like sarge. i hope they dont turn sour when theyre revealed.

-

nice boot

ooh phosphorescence! neato!

-

pearl: hello I'm here to do something ive never done before to provide clues for this case. i hope i’ve been useful! thank you, and goodnight.

...as contrived as this is, i am glad to see someone who actually comes from kurain village.

-

wow, the gangs all here huh

-

so they renamed Eagle Mountain “”””mt. mitama”””” eh

nice...............

-

“you are at that age, after all...”

says apollo who's like 24

also why is she talking about all the women leaving the village? i thought it was the men. is this why i haven't seen any ladies? they all just shipped off downtown?? and of course there’s no mention of the creepy oppressive atmosphere and strictness of the village...

-

nice alliteration apollo

-

rain spirit at a bus stop and you hacks didnt make a Totoro joke?? lame

-

“Dj’you bring a light?”

“Ņ̮͔̜̬͖̝ͫͦ̄̒̀̾̆̓̀ͤͨ͋̓̈̑̂͗́ͤo̸̵͈͎̤͇̤̙̯͔̙͖̞̳̙̠̹̞̲̭ͣ́ͫ͌ͦ̒́͞ͅ?ͯͩͨ̾̅̈ͮ̉̀̌͛̆͑̚҉̧͓̠͎̠͎̀̀”

-

how can you not recognize a foreign voice you idiot

-

“He tried to fucking kill us but he also gave us this flashlight. To um... see our slow death by starvation better I guess?”

-

“We couldn’t get back to where we started if we wanted to”

if you wanted to??? thats exactly what you want!!!

-

Klavier: Hello! This is flashback Klavier here to say: Don’t you miss me? Haha. I miss existing too. Oh well! See you next time~ ...i if there is one.

-

DEAD

-

aw, lucky you! you lucked into falling to your death directly to where you wanted to go!

-

“Yes! Time to find that orb! When we have it, we can....rot here for eternity.”

...ok i know the doc found a way out but still

-

wHAT THE FUCK

THAT HOLE IS LIKE 40 FEET UP

...oh well, if phoenix can survive it, so can they..?

-

i love that there are various sea-related items scattered around that give an obvious way out but only yield “durr??? a sea thing??? how this get here??????????” when inspected 

-

whats with dhurkes’ magic eyes

-

mmmmmmmm a slide puzzle great

“maybe the ppictures correspond to the song”

NO

REALLY??

what is with this game and not outright stating the obvious? its not like it spoils the player or anything; it just makes the WAA look like idiots

-

fuck this I'm gonna finish this stupid puzzle without this game’s help or die trying 

-

...ah. my personal need for pattern and order blinded me to the truth

oh well; it’s open now. i’m gonna smash Eshiro’s stupid smirking face with it.

-

“opening that box means you're the best lawyer ever! enjoy leaving the series forever!!!”

-

“A royal stole that orb”

stole it... as opposed to just taking it and doing whatever they want with it because it’s theirs and there’s absolutely no reason to have to “steal” it. 

unless they wanted to frame the rebels i guess but like. theyre rebels. theyre already pretty hated

-

“it would be seen as utter sacrilege to let a foreign man study this artifact”

oh also it would debunk that whole “explodes your face if you look at it” thing

-

...here we go...

-

“he used to be a nice kid, but now...”

he’s an enourmous shitstain?

“he tried to convict trucy for a crime she didnt even commit...”

ok, apollo. there are a zillion valid reasons to hate sadmad, and yes, his reasoning in that trial was shit. but just being a prosecutor and doing what a prosecutor is meant to do doesn’t make him evil. he isn’t about to just roll over because the defendant’s your sis–– er, best friend.

-

he... could be playing the long game, and interfering could fuck up his plan, Dhurke. Also how was he a rebel and then somehow managed to get into good graces with the royals? It’s already been proven that Dhurke’s Dummy Dragon Gang suck at being stealthy or having any sense of self-preservation. I doubt they just wouldn’t recognize Sadmad

-

“it’s not conviction that fills his heart; it’s resignation and despair”

are you telling me Sadmad is the equivalent of a guy in a dead end office job taking it out on his coworkers

-

“The only thing I know for sure is... Nahyuta is suffering, and he is suffering in silence”

edgeworth: been there, done that!

blackquill: BEEN THERE, DONE THAT

-

ya sure put a lot of stock in Sadmad, Dhurke. i mean i guess he’s your son but seriously; if you're a proper rebel you’d cut your losses and get on with shit already with or without him

-

...y’know, this speech about lawyers being like dragons kind of doesn’t have the same emotion impact and gravitas that the non-dragon one in T&T did.

-

oh how... charming...

*America’s* badge is shaped like a sunflower... and Kooraheen’s is shaped like a buggy eye.

-

YARGH

dont DO that

your voice is BAD

-

“he’s my son! therefor he has to believe in the same thing as me! nothing, not even torture could have changed him!”

cue Gredgeworth’s awkward cough from the afterlife.

-

“You know, I remember when Nahyuta and I were kids, he used to say with great pride ‘I have the blood of a dragon in me!’”

cue tiny apollo feeling left out and alone because he doesn’t know what kind of blood is in him 

-

>reform court system

>rescue son

well... i guess there could be worse reasons to start a revolution.

-

“I mean, what are fathers for?!”

( ‘I... I wouldn’t know...’) 

WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT, GAME

ARE YOU TRYING TO BREAK MY HEART

YOU CAN’T GIVE APOLLO ALL THESE EMOTIONS WHEN YOU’RE ALSO SHAFTING HIS ASS AT THE SAME TIME

SHAME ON YOU

-

HE HAS A BROKEN ARM

HOWS HE GONNA SWIM

-

oh its high tide yay

oh it’s... really high tide

wow.

-

well this is fun. i daresay id really like this sequence... if it wasn’t in this game.

-

“oh no... the water might carry me up to the way out of here... how awful.”

lol can you imagine if this was timed tho

-

oh hey it’s the DD panic panic song. i liked that one. it deserves its spot in the suspense music roster.

-

y’know at this point i kinda hope he really just dies

wouldn’t that be a kicker

not that i hate apollo or anything but I'm just............... so tired

-

apollo’s pretty calm for a drowning person

i’ve nearly suffocated before and the only thing going through my head was AIR AIR AIR GET AIR GET AIR GET AIR AIR AIR

-

baby apollo: waahhhh!!! we’re both perfectly dry!!! the artist didn’t bother to make us look wet in the flashback!

-

A) Little Apollo doesn’t even call Dhurke “Daddy” or “Papa” despite being raised by him since infant hood, possibly meaning Dhurke gave him the ‘You’re adopted” speech pretty early. Or else kids that “aren’t really my son” have to go by name basis. See? Nahyuta calls him father. 

B) Haha! Boys don’t cry, not-son! Suck those sissy tears back up into your skull, or you’ll look gay! It doesn’t matter that you’re like five and you almost drowned to death! Don’t embarrass me!

-

“Don’t ever hesitate to call when you need me”

oh but apollo your ass gets shipped back to america tomorrow ok

-

no seriously. on one hand; why did apollo get sent away? why couldn’t he be a rebel alongside nahyuta and fight for his family? on the other hand, why didn’t dhurke send nahyuta with him? if apollo’s going away because it’s dangerous, why is nahyuta staying with dhurke in the path of danger?

to be honest I'm ashamed that I'm crying, but it’s less about this scene being sad as fuck and more about the fact that I know that none of this is ever really resolved. Dhurke is still a piece of shit who made no attempt to contact apollo for years until he needed a favour out of him. and Apollo has to live with this stupid backstory because ESHIRO thought it would be dramatic and cool. Apollo’s going to “go home”, leave the series... He doesn’t even know he’s leaving his last scrap of real family who gives a shit about him behind in America.

Apollo doesn’t deserve this. 

-

Dhurke, with superman theme playing in the background: Redeeming my character! By saving your life! Redeeming my character! By saving your life! Though only a heartless, shithead person, would leave you behind to die! So this isn’t great.

-

...is he holding him in his broken arm

wait is that arm even broken

has he just been holding it like it’s in a sling for no reason this whole time

-

“Still can’t swim, eh?”

oh fuck off 

-

“Good thing your name’s not Neptune, hahahaha!”

A) OH FUCK OFF

B) NEPTUNE IS A SEA GOD, HE’D ACTUALLY BE RESISTANT TO WATER

-

WHOA FUCK HOLY SHIT

vore machine came out of nowhere and oh

also he is also laughing at a guy who almost drowned

well aren’t these two just the greatest men on earth huh

Trucy: :) lets make this drowning thing seem like no big deal by playing it off and not even asking if you're okay at all :))))

-

great... now he owes his life to him.... that completely cancels out every other piece of baggage.....

remember........ when edgeworth owed his life to phoenix......... remember how he was 100% okay after that and not fucked up at all................ remember how he just popped back into the series without any changes whatsoever apart from being phoenix’s friend again........................................

-

“GLAD TO SEE YOURE NOT CRYING SON; IM GLAD YOU GREW UP INTO THE EMOTIONALLY STUNTED MAN I ALWAYS WANTED, EVEN WITHOUT MY STELLAR PARENTAL GUIDANCE! THAT LONELY ORPHANAGE MUST HAVE TOUGHENED YOU UP GOOD! HAH-HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!!!!”

-

y’know in the interim i was thinking 

Rebel Apollo would be great. he’d probably be an enormous goofus but at least he’d be happy and maybe Dhurke’s shitty plan would get off the ground because an actual smart person would be part of the team.

-

listen to that fuckin “we solved the case” music.

(sigh)

at least apollo is eating.

Turnabout Revolution... End

heh i wish

-

“Sure wish Nahyuta was here”

I don’t.

-

you fucking morons. you colossal fucking asshats. i knew this was coming

Dhurke: DURR LETS TALK ABOUT THIS EXTREMELY IMPORTANT ITEM IN A PLACE WHERE WE KNOW THE GUY WHO WANTS THIS EXTREMELY IMPORTANT ITEM IS! WHATS A STEALTH????

This is why the revolution has taken 20 FCKIN YEARS to take off. Because Dhurke and his band of nincompoops are all incompetent fuckwits.

-

huh i can see where Nahyuta gets his magic clap from.

also say it you loser say bitch

say bitch

say bitch

say bitch

-

A) If the “crystal” is a fake thing, his police report probably wouldn’t check out cause I'm P sure that people can’t just file police reports for anything without proof of previously owning it.

B) Dhurke. You’re a rebel. Shoot someone. Throw a smoke bomb. Gently jog away? Idk if that works in America but it sure as hell works in Kooraheen.

-

no. don’t do it. don’t you fucking do––

oh, i just saw a ghost.

The ghost of the potential any sequels past AJ had. It blinked at me sorrowfully before CAPCOM busted it and crammed it into the Containment Unit.

-

(sigh) Ok (most likely) fake shit aside, that would make Atishon related to Maya, and the “heirloom” would more probably be Maya’s. Why is this excuse present at all anyway it’s stupid.

-

Apollo it shouldn’t fuckin matter; it’s a court case. Just prove the orb isn’t the Crystal of Ami Fey and you win the case. You know that Phoenix doesn’t cheat and you’re pretty certain that the crystal really is the Founder’s Orb, so you shouldn’t be upset about anything. This isn’t a murder trial, it’s a dispute over ownership of an item. You know you’re in the right, so you ought to be able to win the trial. There’s literally no stakes apart from the fact that you’re facing your boss... but so what? That can happen... I assume, I’m not versed in that sort of thing. But either way, lawyers sometimes have to face off against each other... it happens. You had to face Nahyuta. Now you face Phoenix. Unless you think Phoenix will cheat, or that you don’t have sufficient info on the orb, then there’s legitimately no fucking problem. I mean yeah, sucks to go to court, but who gives a fuck? Win the trial and skip back to Kooraheen to overthrow the oppressive regime.

-

I don’t 

what is the fucking problem

one of you gets payed, you both work at the same place

it doesn’t matter

-

APOLLO. You KNOW his methods. You know that he wins because his clients are innocent, and would graciously hand over victory if it was clear you were in the right; YOU HAVE TO KNOW THIS. YOU’RE HIS BIGGEST FAN, REMEMBER??

Unless you think he’d fucking cheat for a skeezy politician for money in which case, nice. Gotta love that trust and belief that DD was building up there.

“Can I do it? Can I fight him?” YES ITS NOT EVEN A MURDER TRIAL

-

“May the best attorney win” 

well so much for finding the truth or whatever. Also Phoenix should be proud that Apollo is willing to go up against him; it shows he’s coming into his own. There’s literally no reason for them to be on shit terms right now.

-

“A fine mess I’ve gotten you into, son.”

Hey shithead that wasn’t an apology. Also yeah, go on and on about how good a lawyer Phoenix is just to scare Apollo. Brilliant.

-

“The first step of your revolution, huh?”

The first step. 20 years and he’s only just taking the first step. Not the first step to the end of the revolution; the first step to the revolution itself.

-

Welp, we’re off to fight over the possession of an oversized marble in court. Seeya next time i guess...

[idle-flower]

dear yuletide author

Thank you for your time and attention, and I hope your wishes are granted this holiday!

General:

I prefer plot and angst and adventure to fluff, though a nice warm fluffy scene can make a good dessert at the end of the pain and suffering. I lean more to f/f and m/f than m/m. I enjoy forbidden relationships. I really love exploring the 'what if' spinoffs of a small change and seeing how that ripples through the canon and makes other changes happen automatically. I have a weakness for detailed object/costume descriptions. I swoon for lovers who take dramatic risks to protect their loved ones.

Dislikes - Please avoid sweeping tropey AUs like 'what if noir' or 'what if everyone was in high school'. I'm REALLY picky about comedy so it's probably not a good idea to go for wacky funny stuff. No excited rambling about pregnancy or babies. (Older kids are okay.) While I am okay with pretty dark stuff, please don't gorily torture characters to death on screen. If people gotta die, limit the details! I am generally not keen on crossovers. I dislike PWP unless it is exceedingly hot smut with an emotional twist to it, in which case the emotional impact can make up for the lack of plot.

Smut:

I don't require it, but I do read a good bit of filthy porn and I am OKAY with you deciding to fill my requests in an explicit manner if that's where your mind is going.

Kinks I find interesting: mild bdsm, pain mixed with pleasure, dubcon, sibling or cousin incest, strap-ons, futanari and other magical appendages, teasing, teenagers, drugs/magic with interesting effects, people making terrible decisions due to being emotionally overwrought or really really horny

PLEASE NO: rape or painful sex that one party is not enjoying at all, inserting anything edible (licking off boobs is okay), aggressive face-fucking, choking, degradation, scat/watersports, bukkake, parental incest, anyone younger than teen, emphasis on 'virgin blood' (some writers make it a huge deal with tearing pain and fountains of blood, please don't).

Mysterious Cities of Gold

Esteban, Tao, Zia

Please base your story solely on the original 1982 season and nothing to do with the 2013+ stuff. Inventing your own what-happened-next after that season is okay, but mostly I'd just like some more adventure with the kids finding strange secrets and mechanisms and solving puzzles. In particular, the Solaris was kind of wasted in the show. We found this huge ship full of weird rooms (was that a holodeck in there? Where did those chairs come from?) and probably all KINDS of neat secrets, but we barely even got to look around it before it blew up. What if they'd kept the ship longer, or it had been able to convert into a land/flying form? Or what if we just spend a few more days opening doors and finding hidden treasures and playing with them? They're kids, let them have some fun!

Alternately, what if after moving from the ship to the condor, at the end of the series they get hold of a SPACESHIP? Plenty of story possibility in trying to figure out how to use that!

IF YOU WANTED TO SMUT THIS: they're a bit young for serious smut, although finding Ancient Empire Of Hiva sex toys and having no clue what they are would at least be funny (and less dangerous than when Tao first found the Spaniards’ pistols!). Bump them up to young teenagers and I'll be okay with Esteban+Zia kissing, fooling around, and possibly getting carried away while having no idea what they're doing. Blue lagoon innocent sex, fine. No kinky stuff here though, and no threesomes, though Tao might overhear and be jealous.

The Velvet Room - Zilpha Keatley Snyder

Gwen McCurdy, Robin Williams

Please let my girls fall in love.

There’s no fanfic of this at all, so I’ll take friendship if I must, but I would love to see something more develop between these two. Could be sweet and fluffy, could be a new source of angst as their relationship is threatened by the morals of the time, could even go dark in an AU where Robin’s family does leave her behind to become Gwen’s playmate and circumstances force her into submissiveness. Could have a happy end, could end in tears, I do enjoy poignant.

I would be thrilled if they got together and then started falling into more mysteries in classic Girl Detective fashion. 

IF YOU WANTED TO SMUT THIS: mutual body exploration and curiosity, sweet romantic first time, OR slave/maid/toy Robin serving her mistresses whims

Exiles Saga

Felice Landry

Poor broken Felice... Give me a story where things don't turn out so badly for her! Let her meet someone who can both love and challenge her (a hybrid Tanu woman, perhaps? NOT Katy. But someone.) Let her come to operancy through the emotional trauma of a mature relationship, rather than being tortured into insanity! (But then, of course, what happens to everyone else if Felice doesn't pop the cork and flood the plain? Or would she do it for other reasons?)

Doesn't have to be amazingly happy for everybody, a lot of people are likely going to die in any conflict in this setting. I don't care who else dies, just LET FELICE HAVE A HAPPY AU. SOMEBODY PLEASE LOVE HER.

IF YOU WANTED TO SMUT THIS: I'd rather not - with everything she goes through in canon I feel weird about focusing on sex with her. But if you really wanted a love scene, as long as it was the sweetest happiest fluffiest I-never-knew-it-could-feel-so-good thing imaginable, that's okay. Felice’s life sucked and I just want to make everything better, just once. 

Shoujo Kakumei Utena

Kaoru Kozue

Okay, perhaps I have a weakness for damaged girls who will never give in. Kozue is a very confusing character, but one thing she's not is weak. Where can you go with Kozue as protagonist? As decidedly-non-innocent hero? Shameless. Fearless. A little cruel. Promiscuous, uses sex as a weapon and as pleasure. Ruthless enough to kill, sympathetic enough to protect the weak that are otherwise beneath notice... I've enjoyed a lot of very different takes on her.

A few vague ideas:

What would happen to this fairytale world if the story tried to make Kozue into the next Witch? How might Akio draw her into his schemes? How might the duels change, with Miki as the ghost of an innocent prince? (Murder is an acceptable outcome.)

For an even darker story, a violent confrontation between Kozue and Nanami. Nanami is very resistant to the sexuality and knowledge that Kozue embraces; they are both obsessed with their very different brothers. What if Kozue tries to enforce her version of right and wrong on her counterpart? What if the twins were also adopted, and Kozue knows it though Miki does not, and that's part of why she's so untrusting of adults as a source of security, while so driven to attract and control them? Pouring out her contempt for Nanami's own struggles with her family identity, raging against Nanami's innocence and reluctance to take what she apparently desires, and somehow in the process hurting herself just as much... Basically I'm up for an encounter between them going into some very bad places. Discussion of child abuse and rape is okay within this context.

Or on a lighter note, what if Kozue decides that the best way to deal with her brother is to find him the perfect sweet little girlfriend for him to be sickeningly happy with - someone who is, of course, completely under Kozue's control, so that she isn't really losing him at all? And thus she goes shopping among the "nice" girls of Ohtori, trying to find someone sweet and submissive that she can take under her wing...

Or perhaps somehow Kozue and Shiori become comrades-in-arms, wielding the power of being the girls that others despise, and tear the story apart from the inside.  Bonus points if you can somehow get Kozue back into her Black Rose outfit and let her stab people.

IF YOU WANTED TO SMUT THIS: All sorts of things are fine, but preferred pairings Kozue/Anthy, Kozue/Nanami (possibly nonconsensual), Kozue/Keiko, Kozue/Akio. DO NOT WANT: Saionji, Touga, or Miki.