#which is the scariest thing to see for someone who was always so alert and in motion

[soptastic]

.

[marlynnofmany]

Unlikely Tech Problems

I reported to the cargo bay for our next delivery, and found concerned faces. Captain Sunlight waited by the door, scaly browridges angled into a dignified frown, while Mimi gestured wildly with his tentacles. I’d expected Mur to come with us instead. Something was up.

Before I could ask, the captain waved me over. “The other ship’s communications appear to be down,” she said. “Additional problems are possible as well. Keep your nostrils open for trouble.”

“Right,” I said, choosing not to comment on the Heatseeker phrasing. “Do we know if they’re okay?”

“They should be,” she replied with one clawed finger pointed at the closed bay door, which blocked the view of a busy spaceport. “The crew member who exited their ship to wave us over didn’t look distressed. And Wio isn’t picking up any alert signals or other causes for alarm.”

Mimi rumbled, “But we’re cautiously alarmed anyway.” He made quite a contrast to the captain, with his voice so much rougher and his attitude grumpier than usual today. Plus all the tentacles. I wondered what he expected the problem to be. Or maybe he just wasn’t looking forward to being mechanic-for-hire as a favor for regular clients. Though I’m sure the captain would have given him a bonus for that.

“We are simply cautious,” said Captain Sunlight. “We’ll head out as soon as—”

Something hissed behind me.

“I hearrrr of thrrrreatening circumsssstanssses?” asked Trrili, sounding pleased.

I turned to see our largest and scariest crewmate doing her favorite thing: looming. Well, second favorite thing, after jumping out and startling people. It was probably good that she enjoyed being terrifying, because with an appearance that was a mix of praying mantis, black widow spider, and unholy nightmares, she was really good at it.

Captain Sunlight was unfazed. “Potentially threatening,” she corrected. “If you will kindly observe in case of problems, I would appreciate it.”

Trrili crouched lower and flexed her pincher arms. “Yesss.”

(Unnecessary hissing is her third favorite thing to do.)

“Right. They’ll be waiting.” The captain stepped forward and opened the bay door — with the airlock engaged. She really wasn’t taking any chances. I wondered if Wio was watching from the cockpit, ready to call the local authorities if need be.

Yeah, of course she was.

The first three of us cycled through the airlock, then waited on the tarmac while Trrili followed. The spaceport was a big one, with ships in all the nearby parking spots and people hustling to and fro. (They're more properly called berths or bays or something, but whatever; they're parking spots. Everybody there could land vertically, and the areas were sorted by ship size.)�� I didn’t know which ship held the package we were meant to be picking up. Hopefully it was close.

By the time Trrili stepped out, the ship directly across from us had opened its own bay door, this one without any sort of airlock precautions. A snow-white Heatseeker trotted out and waved us forward. I was glad that the local weather was slightly overcast, since between those white scales and Captain Sunlight’s yellow, I would have been doing a lot of squinting on a bright day.

“Piercing Sunlight!” exclaimed the client. “Good to smell you.”

“Hello, Toothbone,” said the captain. “Always a pleasure. Is your comm system down?”

Toothbone swished her tail. “A precautionary measure. We had a bit of machinery repaired, and it came back with suspicious programming. We’re making sure it’s not malicious before connecting with any other ships, just to be sure.”

Captain Sunlight nodded while Trrili made a quiet hiss of disappointment. “Very sensible,” the captain said. “I trust this won’t affect the package you want us to deliver?”

“No, not at all. It’s a textile piece that one of our crew made on commission for someone on their home planet, no technology involved. Right this way.”

She led us up the ramp into their cargo bay, which had a lower ceiling than ours. Trrili and I both had to duck a little. The Heatseekers and Mimi didn’t notice.

Toothbone pointed out an awkwardly-shaped box that probably held an art frame as well as the promised cloth, and Captain Sunlight tactfully brought out the payment tablet.

Angry voices echoed down the hallway. Trrili perked up and edged forward; I stepped aside to let her while Mimi squashed down beside the package. Captain Sunlight glanced up but didn’t say anything. Toothbone just looked tired.

Since neither of them told her not to, Trrili opened the door and stuck her head out. Somebody shrieked. The sounds of the argument stopped.

“Isssss therrre a prrroblem?” Trrili purred.

“No — well yes, but not — who are you?” someone asked while other voices muttered in the background.

“Courrrierrr,” Trrili said.

“Thank you for your concern,” said an officious voice. “If you don’t mind—”

“Hey, is that a human?” asked another voice, and I saw brown eyes peeking around Trrili. “They’ll back me up! Hang on a sec. ‘Scuse me.”

Trrili stepped back as a slender human with dark skin and a wild-colored shirt skipped past. He hurried over to me. I braced for whatever conversation was about to happen.

“Hi,” he said earnestly. “Please tell me you’ve heard of the thing where people program old Earth games into unlikely bits of tech.”

“Sure!” I said. “My cousin put Doom in a hoverbike’s display screen once.”

“Yes!” He pointed at me and pumped a fist in the air, then turned back to the scaly faces in the hall. “You see?”

I connected the dots. “Did your repaired piece of tech come back with a game on it?”

He whirled, wild-eyed. “Yes! One of the repair guys is a buddy of mine, and he must have done it as a joke. I’ve been trying to explain it, but nobody believes me!”

“What tech is it?” I asked.

“Part of the medbay,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “Somebody sprained their tail, and the medic went to scan it for breaks, then they ended up with a screen full of demons and gunfire.”

I tried not to laugh. “Is it actually Doom in your medbay??”

He dragged his hands over his face. “It’s Doom in the medbay.”

“That’s amazing!”

By this point the other Heatseekers had made their way in to join the conversation, and to be formally introduced. Things got a bit chaotic. But I confirmed for the alien crew that yes, this was a thing humans did sometimes, and no, it was not a threat to the ship. Alarming yes, but not any form of viral attack.

Trrili was a bit disappointed, but everyone else was relieved. Captain Sunlight managed to steer the conversation back to courier business.

The other human shook his head next to me. “I can’t believe my friend did that. Well no, I can believe it; this is definitely his sort of thing. But jeez.”

“You might consider sending him another old Earth tradition in return,” I suggested with a grin. “Possibly a max-volume rickroll?”

He grinned back. “I might. I might indeed.”

~~~

Inspired by this thread. Thanks for the idea, @sleepyowlet!

~~~

These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.

Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.

The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).

[that-one-kiddo-in-the-back]

The Harley Quinn show is amazing... probably.

Okay, so when I was in like middle school, I was a huge DC fan. I'm not as much anymore as I've dedicated my life to Star Wars. Now, Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy are my favorite femfatile villains and have been the lesbian couple Gotham really didn't want, but the LGBTQ fans needed. Both have been abused by the men in their lives and found companionship with each other. Now let see how Lily sees it.

So Lily isn't a fan of the DC universe. Mainly, her problem stems from batman saying that she stopped caring about batman when it became something dark and edgy and used the dark knight as an example of it getting too dark, which if you're gonna blame something for a franchise for getting to dark don't use the dark knight. The batman franchise has been a dark thing way before 2008. Batman, in the 85 years he's been around, has always had a dark streak. All of the villains are crazy patients with a killer clown running around a corrupted city and the main hero becoming who he is after the death of his parents. If you want to blame something for how Batman is now. Blame the dudes in charge in 1939.

Now, Harley Quinn has been the Jokers "girlfriend" ever since her first appearance in 1992. With them being an off and on relationship. Lily says that the abuse Harley goes through with the joker is never really touched upon, which is both true and not. Everyone in comics and shows knows that Harley is in an unhealthy relationship, and all have asked why she stays. It's not that it's not touched upon. it's more of everyone knowing she's not gonna leave him, no matter what he does to her. To everyone around her, they know Harley doesn't want to leave the joker, so why bother convincing her. Like Lily said, you can't help someone who doesn't want it.

Lily starts talking about Ivy and how dispirit the fact that she's a doctor (most of the villains are doctors in their own field) she sexualized except for The Batman where she's just a teenager. Then she talks about clayface being a D list villain who's now a struggling actor (he always was). While she's talking about other characters, her straw man is constantly asking Lily what she thinks of Harley Quinn herself and spoiler alert she doesn't like Harley. What a surprise.

She claims that Harley's character is boring and is only centered around the love between her and Ivy and the abuse between her and the Joker now that might be true for the show which is pretty lame if you don't want to read her comics but what makes me mad is that Lily thinks that Harley being a stand alone villain never made sense because she has no evil goal like Ivy or the penguin but the Joker also doesn't have a goal either. A villain doesn't need to have a goal to do evil things, and Harley is no different. Harley Quinn is straight up crazy thanks to the chemical dunk and has HPD (Histrionic Personally Disorder), meaning she does things for attention. She doesn't need to have a goal in mind to cause trouble, and personally, I think the scariest villains are the ones who start shit just because they could.

Lily then goes on to say that Harley is only a villain because of the people she's dating, then brings up how Harley was the Jokers therapist but threw it away because of

"Bog standard fangirl hybristophilia"

Harley was fucking manipulated by the Joker to see if he could make her fall in love with him not because she had a thing for bad boys. I have not seen the Harley Quinn show, so please tell me that's not what the writers wrote in for her backstory.

I try to watch the whole video, but her saying that a victim of manipulation and abuse did this to herself because she had Bonnie and Clyde syndrome pissed me off so much that I couldn't finish it. All I can say is that Lily really has a problem with victim characters, and we've seen it time and time again from her hating Hunter to Catra, how she's willing to end friendship to save her own mental health and completely forgetting that the person who is reaching out probably has no one else to go to. Lily has no empathy, but I didn't need to tell you that.

[ultraericthered]

One Villainous Scene: Not A Mistake

Personally, I've always found the famed "twist ending" of M. Night Shyamalan's The Sixth Sense a tad overrated. It's well done and all, but after we opened the movie with Bruce Willis getting shot only to get no follow-up on that and then we hear Haley Joel Osment say he sometimes sees dead people "who don't even know they're dead", it was pretty easy for me to figure out where things were headed.

For me, the best twist M. Night ever pulled was in Unbreakable. It's written in such a way where it's so obvious in retrospect, so hidden in plain sight the entire movie, yet less astute viewers are likely to be blindsided by it. In fact, it only held up better with age once the MCU became a cinematic juggernaut built upon the foundation of Samuel L. Jackson recruiting superheroes for a good cause. In this older, more grounded superhero origin story film, Samuel L. Jackson's character, Elijah Price, looks to be serving the same role to Bruce Willis' David Dunn throughout the movie. The film dedicates as much backstory and character depth to Elijah as it does to David. Born into the world very frail, with brittle bones and an easily pained body, Elijah not only trained his mind to be strong enough to make up for what his body lacked, but thanks to his loving mother he grew up an avid reader of comic books, translating that into his current job and still being a huge comic geek all these years later. He's read dozens of superhero stories, he knows the genre, the tropes, worldbuilding and specifics of such pulp fictional narratives inside out...enough to know that they're all derived from somewhere very real. He knows how to spot a superhero in the making, so his role becomes to guide David down that path once it's clear David is nigh-indestructable.

At the very end of the movie, David's path is set, so Elijah proposes they take their relationship to the next level, which strongly implies some Avengers initiative shit he has in mind. Thinking Elijah to be a friend and now a partner, David shakes his hand....and his Chekov's Skill of being able to see the evil acts committed by someone upon touching them goes off on Elijah, revealing to David that Elijah is responsible for several acts of domestic terrorism that claimed many innocent lives...including the train wreck that David survived at the beginning of the movie, the very "accident" that alerted Elijah to David's presence when he was the sole survivor. David pulls his hand away in alarm, yet Elijah remains totally calm and collected. And as David looks around at Elijah's office room, he sees more visible evidence of his crimes that he'd not been looking at before.

And Elijah makes no denials about the things he's done. Rather, he justifies why he did them, saying "Do you know what the scariest thing is? To not know your place in this world, to not know why you're here. That's - that's just an awful feeling." Which ties back to what we'd seen of Elijah's birth and his childhood, how he's had to live with an agonizing disability that ostracized him from other people. Having grew up on comic books as his primary comfort food, Elijah began to understand the world in terms of how the uncanny, freakish, and exceptionally gifted are born to be put apart from the normies, to live out lives much like those of the characters told of in comics, whether they be superheroes or supervillains. This drove Elijah to seek out his opposite number, his fated arch foe that would help him realize his own destiny. "I almost gave up hope." says Elijah, getting almost choked up now "There were so many times I questioned myself... But I found you. So many sacrifices, just to find you."

It all becomes clear. The real reason Elijah guided David towards becoming a modern day superhero and doing what's right for others with his gifts is because he knew, with his hands so bloodied by the heinous crimes he committed to reach this point, there was zero chance he was destined for superheroism; his opposite would be the hero, and he would be the villain to challenge and oppose him. "Now that we know who you are, I finally know who I am." Elijah declares this with the utmost confidence, leading to an emotionally distraught David to turn his back and start walking away, even as Elijah goes on and his dialogue just gets better and better "I'm not a mistake! It all makes sense! In a comic, you know how you can tell who the arch-villain's going to be? He's the exact opposite of the hero. And most times they're friends, like you and me! I should've known way back when... You know why, David? Because of the kids!" And when he gets to that point, the picture freeze frames and the music swells, I legitimately got goosebumps on my first viewing, knowing exactly where he was going with that last part and what line would follow.

"They called me Mr. Glass."

Almost overcome with emotion, perfectly delivered by Jackson, this is the line the film ends on, the last big sucker punch to the audience that puts into perspective what was so clear the entire time despite seeming so surprising now. As is true of many of the great comic book supervillains, "Mr. Glass" goes from a degrading nickname used to bully someone in their childhood to the moniker that someone willingly takes up when becoming a supervillain in their adulthood. Being seemingly deluded about being a figure out of comic pages and David Dunn's archenemy, with that having driven him to commit felonies and take many lives, Elijah Price is said to be locked up in an institution for the criminally insane. But we're left with much doubt that he'd ever remain there. After all, his mind is his superpower.

[mrpenguinpants]

Genshin: University AU [V1]

I love modern au. Or any “everything is fine, no one died, it’s just a fever dream” au. Half of me is thinking, damn maybe I should answer this serious- LOL HAHA no. That’s not happening. Time to crack my knuckles and let my brainworms take over again.

Once again, this is 90% crack 10% content. I want to switch up my characters from the last brainworm post but I included Kaeya and Diluc.

---

Today’s appreciation post goes to twistedwishes. Hey! I’ve been seeing you pop up a lot lately and thanks for the support 💕💕 I hope things are going better for you and you’re doing alright^^ I feel kinda bad for making appreciation posts on crack fics but hopefully this is somewhat funny haha. 

---

Genshin: Holding Hands [V1]

Genshin: When you’re cold [V1]

Genshin: Roommate [V1]

Genshin: Royalty AU [V1]

[Masterlist]

---

[taglist]  <- if you want to be added, please read this first.

  @mikeysbike @hanniejji@unionwitch @musekala @twistedsunnshiii @stanzastic @akaasea @xoneaboveallx @adoring-ghost @asheseiler @childelover @dilucsz @dai-tsukki-desu @thicmitten @youaskedfurret @diaxfeliz @wintergreen-aix @dandelily @thegayrubberducky @lovelykittycatmeow @yuunoagivesmelife  @dokidokisama @simpygrimoire @minakohasmanyhusbandos @strwbrry-lia @tigerpriestess @yuu-yuukurotsuki​

---

Diluc

Absolute pretty boy who has braincells, but only if Kaeya is not there. In his mind, Kaeya’s presence makes his room loose 40% of their common sense. He can’t prove it just yet but he’s working on it. He majors in accounting but also has a minor in marketing, logistics’ management, fia- he majors everything business related. He’s going to become the next Elon Musk through smarts or by getting the competition drunk. There can be no contest if he’s the only candidate. He’s actually a hard working guy that overworks and stresses way too much. You have daily “Diluc recharge” evenings where he just hangs onto you while you go through your day.

“Don’t fucking talk to me until I’ve had my coffee,” except there is no coffee - he drinks grape juice out of juice boxes and his only energy boost is when he meets up with you - and that’s his constant mood. So he usually only hangs around you and Jean, since she has childhood friend status and is actually an angel. By default, Lisa is added and Diluc doesn’t mind her but if he see’s Kaeya, it’s full on war paint mode. If he's not busy with work or studies, he's usually with you either in your dorm or his apartment.

He has a fanclub and he seriously hates it and tries to do everything in his power to get Ningguang to take it down. Shouldn’t this be against his rights? But she refuses for whatever reason and makes a whole speech about free will. No matter what he does, someone manages to take a picture and it get’s printed in the university’s newspaper. The only bonding time he has with Kaeya is every Monday, where they collect and burn all the universities newspapers before anyone can get their hands on it. You always bring marshmallows to make smores during their arson activities.

“When I graduate I’m going to burn this school down to the ground. That’s not a threat it’s a promise.”

Ningguang

Is secretly the leader of the Diluc fanclub - not that she likes Diluc, she’s in a questionable platonic poly marriage with you and Beidou - but it was the easiest way to gain funds for the student council. Which she is the president of, so rip Diluc the fanclub stays. Ruthless business woman I tell you. But she can run in heels so her danger factor rises by at least 20%.

Majors in social sciences and law but more specifically the political science & government. She saw the Imperial State Crown that the Queen of England wears and says yes, that’s mine now. If she’s not with Beidou and you planning on “how to infiltrate the state government just for lols”, then she’s with Keqing, Ganyu, and Zhongli discussing student council things. Should they or should they not tell the student body that they can see everyone’s search results? Sit back and relax as the school goes into chaos. 

She’s probably the scariest person on campus No, she is the scariest person on campus. She’s the scariest person on campus. But secretly she’s popping 20 aspirins just to make it through a night. She has the digestive system of steel. She still holds the title of "seriously do not try and beat her in a drinking game it's never going to happen" and that's her proudest achievement in life but sadly she can’t put it on her resume. Kaeya is still trying to beat her out of spite but so far it hasn't been working. You’re seriously concerned for her when she get’s challenged but Beidou gives you a way-to-hard slap on the back and cheers her on. If Ninngguang somehow get’s alcohol poisonings she’ll somehow find away to make a profit out of it.

"I'll let him die, I'll get the insurance money."

Kaeya

One day he chugged too much mouth wash, passed out, and somehow woke up in university majoring in law. His idea is that if he is apart of the law, he can therefore stand above it. To be fair, his only goal in life is to say “I am the manager” and he can go live the rest of his life in bliss or as a hermit. He’s secret best friends with you but wouldn't be caught dead beside you. He will stab a bitch if you ever get hurt but will still trip you on the way home. Seriously, you have no idea why people find him attractive. Your guess is it’s the eye patch or the clap of his ass cheeks that keeps alerting everyone.  

He’s apart of the newspaper club and if anyone asks: No, he has no idea who keeps taking all the newspapers and burns them in the back of the campus. Originally, he joined because he was nosy and needed to join some type of club for his resume. He sometimes feels bad for his junior assistant Amber because he keeps tricking her and says that Diluc is secretly a demon that is trying to steal all the jobs and is apart of the lizard government hell bent on eradicating the human race. He even brought out a whiteboard for this joke, he’s dedicated to his job ok? 

The type of guy to try and be humble and say his work is “okay” but will choke a bitch if anyone agrees. He tends to leave everything last minute and says that it’s his drug since actual drugs could land you one year in prison and a maximum penalty of $2,000. You have to awkwardly hold in your concerned mother head shake when you see him speed running his assignment literally right when the professor is walking around to check if students finished. 

“I was taught how to lead not to read.”

Mona

Broke wallet #2. Zhongli is broke wallet #1 but Childe simps for him so is he really a broke wallet at this point? In this essay, I Mona Megistus, will explain why I have the rights to the title “Broke Wallet #1″...

Believes that astrology should be an actual career path but refuses to take astronomy as her major. I can read the stars not a textbook that tells me how to calculate the mass of the sun divided by the fucks I give. Instead she went into Philosophy and cries to Albedo, who is an actual prodigy genius- sir lend some braincells to everyone else please?, that her professor keep turning her paper down because “star reading” is not an academic source.

Fischl wants her to join the occult club because, surprisingly, Mona is very good at telling people’s fates through her crayon sketch ouija board. She thinks first year Fischl is cute but is put off by the cosplay roleplay that she has going on. She would join except that stupid hat wearing gremlin in her lit class would make fun of her if he found out.

You gave her half your lunch one day and bought her a doughnut "because she seemed upset" and "out of the goodness of your heart" whatever the hell that means. She thinks you pensioned it but once that thought comes she takes a bite. Poison from a doughnut is not the worst way to go out, classes are hard enough. She’s waiting for the lord to strike her down anyways. 

“Its not about passing, its about doing better than everyone else.”

Venti

Slept through most of highschool and people question how he got into university. He’s a music major (wow how fucking original is that), and if anyone asks him to serenade someone or just do anything, he’ll do it for the right price. Or if you buy him alcohol because he still keeps getting ID checked. He’s banking on Kaeya actually becoming a lawyer or being on good terms with Diluc so he can finally stop being arrested for looking like a toddler.

Takes one step into classes and quickly nopes out and goes back to bed. Professors have no idea how he hasn't dropped out or failed. He just has some god given talent. He does whine at you to pretty pretty please with a cherry on top tutor him because you're such an angel and would never leave your poor but awesome best friend hanging right? He needs to get this essay down but how he is suppose to explain how the number 10 is symbolic and connects to the universe or the meaning of life. Do you think he can just say it’s apart of his culture and make up some random myth to pretend it looks like he knows what he’s doing? 

He’s honestly going with the flow and put his brain on the back burner all of highschool and only now realizes wait, I actually have to use my brain?

He’s been banned from most club chats since Venti has the no chill card. Someone says “lol I look ugly today.” and he’ll respond "yup, you look like a cow." and he get’s banned. Zhongli keeps a speed run timer on his phone just to document these occasions.

"Sad spelled backwards is das and das how it be sometimes."

Childe

An actual dumbass that somehow does well. He eats sandwiches with the crust off, this heathen. Surprisingly he’s studying to become a physical therapist but most of his experience has come from breaking his own bones. You’re scared how he's going to be if he actually becomes a therapist. If he'll make bets with his patients or try to one up whatever crazy injury they get into. Everything is a challenge to him that sometimes the best way to deal with Childe is to knock him out. 

This man really knows the way to a Zhongli’s woman's heart. Through micro transactions. Mona saw him accidently drop $20 and just shrugged and walked off. She has never been both spiritually and physically offended in her life. She did take the $20 though. As much as you hate leeching on Chile when he’s basically a walking wallet that probably uses bills as tissue paper, you can’t help but give him puppy eyes while planning on how to get into his will. If he even plans on having one, he might honestly write “whoever wins in a gladiator style duel in my funeral’s tournament, they will get my fortune.”. 

Any sport the university offers Childe is probably in it. Which is how he met Zhongli, challenged him to a fight, proceeded to have his ass handed to him, got a backhanded compliment, and screamed to you he was in love and how he found his soulmate. He's secretly very sappy and has cried and watched every Disney and Pixar movie at least 28 times.

"IM NOT TOO SPICY! I’M A TINY BIT ABOVE MILD IF ANYTHING!”

---

God if it isn’t Scaramouche, it’s Childe that ruins the aesthetic. This is why I hate you. Why do you people enable me like this, it isn’t even good. This is pretty much a @ yourself moment and I vibe hard with Venti. This entire post was just to make a joke about the clap of Kaeya’s ass cheeks alerting the guards.

This week might slow down since I have classes and assignments. My reply’s are gonna be late too, sorry;; (oh and thank you to everyone that was so supportive and nice when I mentioned it. All of you. Beautiful 💕💕 )

[deadbiwrites]

a video of supergirl grabbing lena luthor's ass starts circulating and it's very embarrassing for sc but extremely funny to their friends

(I am SO sorry. Where do these hide? Why do I never see them? How long has this been here?!

Anyways, have some cute nonsense!)

The day starts like any other, honestly.

Like, sure, Kara’s never thrilled when she wakes up 20 minutes late and has to use superspeed to get through her morning routine and into the office on time, but it happens regularly enough that she’s just sort of used to it by now. Like, the sky is blue, the grass is green, she manages time poorly. Whatever.

But she does get to work on time, with just enough to spare that she can make a brief detour to Nia’s desk for the coffee her protege has already bought for her, thank her profusely (with perhaps minor promising of firstborn children), and slip into the morning meeting just as Snapper, James, and Lena start handing out assignments for the day.

“Well, well, good of you to join us, Ponytail. Let me guess, a family emergency kept you out all night again?”

‘I mean, that Abraxian wasn’t my family, technically, but someone’s family, so…’ “Something like that. Sorry.”

Lena catches her eye and quirks a brow in question, but Kara just shrugs easily and sips her coffee, pulling a silly face at her friend when Snapper’s attention moves away from her. When her eyes uncross, she can tell Lena is fighting not to laugh, eyes sparking with mirth as she bites her lip. Kara takes another sip of coffee, feeling a bit smug that she can get Lena to smile without even having to say anything to her. That’s real talent, right there.

Especially since Lena has to stand up at the front with James, who has been by turns cold, dejected, and surly toward her since their breakup (a big, real, final one) a few weeks prior. Lena had said that the whole thing was a mistake, that she should’ve never gone for it in the first place because she’d been right the first time- they’d had some chemistry, after all, but it certainly wasn’t compatible long-term. 

Which… Kara can certainly relate. Like, a lot.

Especially about the whole… James being kind of wounded about it part. That part had really sucked- when he’d done it with Kara, who he’d gone on like, a date with, it’d resulted in him deciding to become a vigilante. Rao only knows what he’ll do when it’s someone he dated on and off for over a year...

“Ponytail!”

Kara jumps, realizing too late that her wandering attention hasn’t gone unnoticed. “Yes, sir?”

Snapper rolls his eyes. “Great, now that you’ve stopped orbiting Saturn, you wanna go get that article started?”

Kara’s eyes widen slightly in a panic as she realizes that she has no idea what he’s talking about. “Uh…” Behind his back, Lena catches her eye and nods subtly. Thank Rao. “Yes. I super do.”

Lena snorts, James sighs deeply, and the meeting is adjourned.

**

“So what exactly am I supposed to be doing today?” Kara asks Lena as they stroll out of the conference room together.

“Well unfortunately for you, you have to interview a big-time CEO. You have a meeting scheduled with her in three hours.”

“You?” Kara asks hopefully.

“You’re very sweet,” Lena chuckles. “No, Elena Watts. She’s a real estate developer, and she runs a nonprofit organization for homeless youth. It’s one of the articles we’re doing for next month’s spread. Contrary to popular belief, Cat and I weren’t the only women with high-profile jobs in this city. ”

“Oh, that’s pretty cool! Have you met her?”

“Not personally, no, but I have donated to her charity- it’s a very good cause, especially the outreach they do with queer youth.”

Kara elbows Lena gently. “You’re such a softie.”

“Mmm, maybe. But if you tell anyone, you’re fired.”

Kara clutches a hand to her chest, feigning horror. “Why Miss Luthor, what a blatant abuse of power!”

Lena shrugs. “I’m a Luthor, darling, I have to keep up appearances somehow.”

“Ouch,” Kara laughs. “See you at lunch?”

“Only if lunch includes a milkshake- I have a teleconference with both boards today. Unless you feel like joining me?”

“Wow, well as fun as that sounds, I’m gonna go do literally anything else.” Her comms crackle to life, alerting her of a hostage situation downtown, and Kara sighs. So much for a work day. “Alright, well, I’m, um, gonna go… see what I can find on Elena Watts. Maybe over another cup of coffee at Noonan’s.” She widens her eyes a bit, trying her best to convey that she’s going to be on Super-duty for a little while.

Thankfully, Lena picks up on it and grins. “You just want sticky buns.”

“Lena, I always want sticky buns. They’re like, my second favorite thing to eat.”

“Oh? What’s the first?” Lena asks, voice just a bit lower than usual. 

Kara opens her mouth and closes it, flushing slightly as she averts her gaze and adjusts the laptop bag on her shoulder. Stuff like that has been happening more and more, and she’s not 100% sure what to do about it. Because on the one hand, it makes her stomach do flips and tie up in knots and makes her brain do this… staticky thing where nothing filters in or out, just a pleasant buzz of how funny and smart Lena is and how much Kara likes hanging out with her and being flirted with (because that’s definitely what’s been happening, even if neither of them is really ready to address it) and just generally looking at Lena.... who is currently biting her lip and grinning up at Kara, and that buzz makes her kinda dumb, which is just really unhelpful. But on the other hand, it’s also kinda awesome and Kara really enjoys it, and-

“Kara?”

She spaced out again. Crap.

“Um. What time are you free for lunch?”

Lena sighs, seeming slightly disappointed that Kara isn’t flirting back at the moment (and thank Rao Lena can’t read minds), but she smiles back easily enough as they step off of the elevator. “I should be done by two.”

Feeling emboldened, Kara turns so she’s walking backwards in front of Lena and grins. “It’s a date,” she says with a grin, ducking forward to press a quick “friendly” kiss high on Lena’s cheek. She whirls and jogs out the double doors, leaving Lena smiling exasperatedly after her.

**

It is genuinely baffling to Kara that people still commit crimes in National City. It’s not even an ego thing, really, since Kara tries to keep herself humble (even when she manages to wrap up a hostage situation within twenty seconds of arriving on-scene without injuring any of the criminals or damaging the building too badly). Like, yeah, she gets that there’s a certain element of crazies who just sorta gravitate to places with a local hero, the big-bads who have their own suits and geek-toys and abilities. Them, Kara gets. Kinda sorta. But the regular ones, who are armed with like, pistols? Or knives? Just regular man made stuff without even the benefit of magic or kryptonite or something?

Why? 

She’s sure that if she asked, Lena would have some sort of statistical thing about large cities and poverty and all sorts of other factors that would end up making Kara feel like a jerk for being uncharitable to the criminal element of her city, but at the moment she’s mostly too annoyed by the fact that she has to spend her weekdays chasing them around instead of chasing stories.

Once all the hostages are freed and the cops secure the scene, Kara departs, flying into the alley behind Noonan’s and changing into her regular clothes before she heads inside to do a bit of research before her meeting with Elena Watts in a few hours (just because she’d used it as a cover doesn’t mean it was a bad idea…). She finds her favorite little two-person booth tucked into a quiet corner, plugs in her laptop, and gets to work, asking the waitress to please keep both the coffee and the sticky buns coming.

She gets a surprising amount done by the time she needs to leave for the interview, having a good foundation for what she wants to write and who Elena Watts is.

Ms. Watts turns out to be a pretty nice lady around Eliza’s age, if a bit busy and distracted by the steady flow of people in and out of her office. She answers all Kara’s questions with aplomb, happy to elaborate on most every point and eager to draw attention to the rising issue of homelessness among children and teens in the US.

“When I was young, my dad lost his job at the auto plant. It was supposed to be a temporary layoff, but the factory never reopened. We ended up losing the house, and we lived so far from our extended family that staying with them wasn’t much of an option. We lived in our SUV for six months, sleeping at shelters every now and again, if we could find one that allowed families to stay together. We showered at the local YMCA. Five people and a dog, living and sleeping in an old station wagon- even now, it sounds ridiculous. Eventually, we got back on our feet, but I never forgot that. It was just six months, but it was- and remains- the scariest, most uncertain time in my entire life, and it shaped me in a lot of ways I didn’t expect. And there are kids and families who do that for years. I just want to help them the way I wish that someone had been able to help us.”

At the end of the interview, Kara thanks her profusely for her time and for sharing her story before hurrying off to CatCo to type up a draft for Snapper (“What’s wrong with you, Ponytail, why is everything you bring me sappy and sentimental?”), which she finishes an outline of just in time to send it off before running to Big Belly and L-Corp for lunch with Lena.

She greets the newest in a series of secretaries (Anna? Amy? Ava? Lena’s really missing Jess, these days, but from what she’s told Kara, Jess is kicking butt in her new role as VP of Operations and will probably take over for the COO when he retires in a few years), and the girl waves her in distractedly.

And that’s when Kara’s day goes from normal to not, because inside the office are two masked men holding a stone-faced Lena at gunpoint on her balcony and demanding… something, probably. Kara’s a bit distracted by the loaded gun aimed at Lena’s head.

“Hey!” she yells, attracting both their attention. They whirl on her and Lena’s eyes widen in alarm, and Kara suddenly realizes three things- 1) she’s in her Kara Danvers clothes, not the supersuit, 2) she can’t speed into the suit now that they’re both looking at her, and 3) she has no plan.

Crap.

“Who the hell are you?!” one of them demands.

Kara… doesn’t have a good or snappy answer for that, and instead does the only thing she can think of- she throws the large milkshakes she’s carrying at them as hard as she can.

Which, in retrospect, is too hard, apparently because while yes, it is both funny and gratifying to see two grown men get absolutely leveled by a tasty dairy treat to the face, the one closest to Lena manages to elbow her in such a way that she falls backwards over the rail with an instinctual scream that makes Kara’s heart fly into her throat. She whips off her glasses, and by the time she’s out the window and speeding toward Lena’s flailing form, the suit is materialized. She gets under Lena, catching her carefully and dropping a bit further before slowing down (because she’s been made aware that when she doesn’t, the people she’s saving may as well be hitting the pavement), finally coasting to a stop about 20 feet from the ground.

Lena’s face is screwed up in a forced sort of focus, her hands clutching tightly at Kara’s shoulders and cape as she holds her breath.

“Are you okay?” Kara asks quietly.

Lena swallows thickly and nods, eyes still firmly closed. “I’m alright. Thank you- I’ll admit, I wasn’t quite sure how to get out of that one.”

“What was that? What did they want?”

Lena cracks an eye open. “Oh. you know, just my quarterly assassination attempt. I think my mother was starting to miss me, so she wanted to reach out.”

Kara snorts. “That really shouldn’t be funny.”

“Maybe not, but here we are.” Lena shifts a bit in Kara’s arms, cheeks a bit flushed from the adrenaline rush, and clears her throat. “Not to be rude, Supergirl, but do you think that perhaps we could continue this conversation… on the ground?”

“Oh. Oh! Yeah, sorry. I forgot we were, uh, flying.”

Lena chuckles as they ascend slowly back up to her office. “You forgot you were flying?”

Kara shrugs with an easy smile. “I guess you have that effect on me.”

Lena huffs a laugh against Kara’s neck, eyes squeezed shut again. They alight on the balcony, finding the two men still unconscious, covered in Kara and Lena’s lunch. Lena sighs as Kara sets her down, pinching the bridge of her nose. “What a mess.”

“Yeah, sorry, I sorta… panicked.”  

“I was so looking forward to a milkshake too…” Lena laments playfully.

“Well, then I have good news and bad news,” Kara says. She reaches out and gently wipes a bit of her own chocolate shake from Lena’s cheek with the pad of her thumb, tucking it into her mouth on instinct to get a taste of it. “The good news is, you do, in fact, have some shake on you!”

“Whats the bad news?” 

“Also that you have some shake on you.” Kara laughs, gathering the two men in her arms and hefting them a bit so they’re easier to carry. “I’ll get you another one. Be right back.”

She drops the men at the police station with a brief explanation before flying back into the office. Lena hands over her discarded glasses with a wry grin.

“I figured you’d need these before the police arrive.” She’s putting on a brave front, but she’s clearly still more than a bit rattled, if her too-bright eyes and thundering heartbeat are anything to go by. Kara steps closer and opens her arms in invitation, and Lena doesn’t hesitate to step into them. “Thank you,” Lena says fervently, tucking her face into Kara’s shoulder and wrapping her arms tight around Kara’s waist. 

“Always,” Kara promises, daring to press a reassuring kiss to Lena’s temple (and getting a bit of Lena’s strawberry shake for her troubles) before wrapping her up even tighter in her arms. “Are you actually okay?”

“I mean, my fear of heights has been reaffirmed,” Lena jokes, “but aside from that, I’m not hurt.”

“Good. I don’t like, love people pointing guns at you. Just so you know.”

“I’m not a fan either, for the record,” Lena drawls, burrowing even closer. “Even though I know you’ll save me, it still puts a damper on my day.”

Kara huffs a laugh. “Same.”

They stay like that for a few minutes, until Lena’s calmed down enough to stop shaking and calls her assistant (Audra, apparently) in, telling her what’d happened and that the police would be arriving shortly to take her and Kara’s statements, and please advise the security team to let them up discreetly. After the cops arrive, it’s a blur of questions, and Kara has to concentrate on telling the story of how she’d panicked and thrown the milkshakes at the men, and one of them had knocked Lena over the balcony (all true), and Kara had yelled for Supergirl, who had knocked the men out on her way to Lena (also technically mostly true. Technically. Mostly.). The police are sure to tell Kara that next time, she shouldn’t throw things at people with guns, and also to tell them both how lucky they are that Supergirl had shown up when she did.

“She’s always there when I need her,” Lena agrees, throwing a sly wink over the officer’s shoulder at Kara.

Kara just shakes her head and smiles. Even almost dying isn’t enough to make Lena not flirt with her. The woman is truly a marvel.

Kara’s comms crackle again, accompanied by Alex’s custom ringtone on her cell, and after assuring the police that she has no issue with giving another statement if they need her to later, hurries over to the DEO (making a quick stop in the back alley to change into her suit).

**

When Kara arrives, she’s told that J’onn and Alex are waiting for her in the Directors’ offices. She makes her way there, waving to the agents and scientists she knows. But it’s very weird, because every time one of them sees her, they start giggling before quickly hurrying off in the opposite direction. Like, literally everyone is whispering and pointing and giggling, and it’s giving Kara such visceral flashbacks to high school that it’s all she can do to not check her cape for a taped on sign that says ‘Kick me’ or ‘Freak’.

(Kids are mean.)

By the time Kara gets to her destination, she’s fully paranoid, sure that someone’s playing a prank on her, somehow, and that everyone but her is in on the joke. She opens the door with more force than intended and catches it just before the handle puts a hole in the wall, throwing Alex and J’onn a sheepish smile. She closes the door extra gently and leans against it heavily. J’onn and Alex just stare at her, looking thoroughly unimpressed.

“Busy day, Supergirl?” Alex asks, and after half a lifetime of spending time with her, Kara recognizes that she, too, is trying not to laugh. 

Kara’s had enough. “Okay, do I have something on my face? Or on the suit? Is someone messing with me?”

J’onn’s brow furrows. “No.”

“Then what’s the deal? Why is the entire DEO like… laughing at me? Did someone accidentally vent the lab fumes out into the main hub again?”

“No.”

“Did someone see me crash into that billboard last week?”

J’onn’s frown deepens. “What?”

“No,” Alex answers.

“Then why is everyone laughing at me?!”

“I mean, if I had to guess, I’d say it’s because of that,” Alex muses, nodding toward the big TV on the wall beside Kara.

She steps back to watch the news coverage of her dealing with the hostage situation this morning and frowns. “What, those guys? That was routine, what’s so funny about tha-”

“No, no, not that. That,” Alex clarifies, cranking up the volume.

“...reports are saying that the CEO of L-Corp, Lena Luthor, experienced an attempt on her life early this afternoon. Sources claim that she fell from a considerable height-”

“Hey, she was pushed,” Kara corrects.

“Shh!”

“...caught by Supergirl, who may have gotten a little… familiar with her.”

And there’s a video (clearly recorded on a cell phone but not the worst quality Kara’s ever seen) of Kara catching Lena and slowing to a stop above the sidewalk, of them talking quietly, of Kara’s hand definitely on Lena’s-

“Oh. Oh no.”

“Oh yes,” Alex drawls, clicking the TV off with relish, a large, evil-big-sister grin spreading across her face. “Congratulations, Supergirl- the world just watched you grope Lena Luthor’s ass.”

“But I’m not- I wasn’t groping, I was catching! My hands weren’t… If it was groping, I’d be all up on her, and I wasn’t!”

“Camera begs to differ. It’s already trending on Twitter in National CIty.”

Kara puts her head in her hands and groans. “Why?! I was trying to save her!”

“You were definitely trying to save part of her,” Alex agrees. “Granted, it’s a very nice part...”

Kara’s head pops up, and she shoots Alex a look that’s between a pout and a glare. “You’re not helping.”

Alex feigns confusion. “Am I supposed to be helping?”

“Alright, enough,” J’onn cuts in before Kara can retort. “We just wanted you to be aware. I don’t think that this is going to be taken for anything more than it is- a humorous moment in the middle of a successful rescue. You shouldn’t worry about the press.”

And truth be told, Kara isn't worried about the press- she’s worried about the fact that she’s going to have to face Lena after this. Lena, who she knows for a fact has google alerts set for herself, Kara Danvers, and Supergirl, a gesture which is normally actually sweet and kind but is right now definitely gonna bite her in the-

“Okay! So, is that all?”

Alex blinks, looks over at J’onn, and shrugs. “I mean, yeah. Try not to make a habit of groping your crush when you’re in the suit.”

“I wasn’t groping her-”

Alex grins. “So you admit you have a crush? Interesting…”

“Alex!”

**

J’onn’s prediction is mostly right- no one seems to be taking the shots of her grabbi- saving Lena as anything other than a funny blip of a moment in their coverage of it.

He was wrong about the sheer scale. The clip had gone totally viral in a matter of hours, and seemingly every major network in the country has run the clip at least once as a bit of filler-fluff, and almost every major network anchor (including the ones at CatCo, the traitors) has made at least a passing joke about Supergirl being ‘Super-Handsy'.

Which means that Kara is very late getting back to Lena’s office with replacement food. But like, she’s been busy, okay? It’s not like she’s avoiding Lena, or something, because she’s embarrassed- which she isn’t, because she didn’t do anything bad or wrong and-

Anyways, it’s well past sunset by the time Kara gets to Lena’s office door again. She hesitates outside it for just a moment before shouldering the door open and knocking tentatively.

Lena’s attention jerks from whatever she’d been absorbed in to Kara, and a relieved smile blooms across her face. “Hey there.”

Kara finds herself equally relieved to not experience a repeat performance of earlier scary situations. “Hi,” Kara says, unable to resist smiling back. She raises the bags and cup carrier. “I bring grease and milkshakes. Again.”

“Oh thank god, I’m starving,” Lena says, rolling her chair away from her desk and rising into a deep and probably much-needed stretch. Kara very determinedly does not stare at the slight sliver of soft tummy that appears between her blouse and skirt at the motion. “I’ve been staring at this screen for several hours. And Sam called to yell at me- she says hello, by the way- she and Ruby are in town next weekend.”

“Good!” Kara crosses the room to the couch as Lena does, easily spreading out the veritable buffet of fast food she’d brought over the coffee table. “I mean, not good that she yelled at you, or that you’re still at work, Miss Luthor,” she says pointedly, receiving only an unapologetic shrug in response. “But good that, um-”

“I get it,” Lena chuckles, resting a hand lightly on Kara’s knee and boy, if that doesn’t make Kara’s brain go fuzzy and dumb again… “Thank you, for checking in.”

“Of course I was gonna check on you, Lena,” Kara huffs. “Plus, I know you probably didn’t get lunch, so…”

Lena hums around a mouthful of burger, chewing until she can politely speak again. “Well it’s delicious. Did you make it yourself?” she teases with a sly grin.

“Oh, yeah, totally. Slaved away over a hot stove for this- I just wrapped it in Big Belly wrappers so you wouldn’t feel bad about it.”

“Very clever.” Lena pops the lid off of her milkshake and drags a fry through it (an advanced culinary delicacy Kara had horrified her with initially but had eventually become a bit of a guilty pleasure). “Although I have to say, traditionally you’d have to buy me dinner before you grabbed my ass.”

Kara chokes on a pickle. “Oh no,” she groans, dropping the burger onto the wrapper on the table and dropping her very red face into her hands as Lena laughs beside her. She peers out from between her fingers. “I am so sorry, I was just worried about you hitting the pavement and like, catching you in the least jarring way and I wasn’t paying attention to where my hands were and I didn’t even notice until I got back to the DEO and-”

“Well I have so say, I feel a bit offended that you didn’t even realize you were copping a feel...” When the only response is another groan and a deep flush spreading from Kara’s neck to the tips of her ears, Lena relents. “Kara, Kara, it’s fine!” she laughs, pulling Kara’s hands away from her face and giving them a grounding squeeze. “Nia’s been sending me memes about it all day, which has improved my mood significantly. On the grand scale of fallout from assassination attempts, this one was at least funny.”

“I know that’s supposed to be comforting, but all it makes me wanna do is wrap you in bubble wrap forever,” Kara informs her.

“Pass on that. But seriously, don’t worry about it- I know it wasn’t on purpose- unfortunately for me, you’re too noble to do something like that,” Lena laments playfully.

And whether it’s the knowledge that Lena is not, in fact, upset, the overall weirdness that has been this day, or this delicious burger fueling it, Kara feels a bit emboldened. “Hey Lena…”

“Yes?”

“What if I wanted to grab your butt? Just, y’know, as a hypothetical. For future reference.”

Lena quirks a brow at her, fighting a smile as she contemplates this. “Hmm. Strictly hypothetically?”

Kara scoots a bit closer on the couch. “Sure.”

 “Well, you’ve already bought me dinner…”

“And lunch, technically. Even if I gave it to the bad guys.”

“True. Plus you saved my life, so that gets you some points, probably.”

Kara pauses in her sly scooching. “Oh, hey, wait, no, that’s not-” 

“Kidding, Kara. I know you’d never use that to your advantage. I, however, have determined that strong moral fibre and nobility do, in fact, earn you more points, which is my choice on the matter and you get absolutely no say in it.”

“Oh. Um, alright, I think.”

Lena stares off into the middle distance, tapping her forefinger thoughtfully against her chin. Finally she shrugs. “Yes, I think you’re fulfilled the prerequisites for a bit of grab-ass today.”

Kara snorts, Lena laughs, and soon enough Kara takes her up on the offer.

**

“Hey Kara, remember that time you grabbed Lena’s ass and it made international news?” Nia asks around a mouthful of mushu pork.

“You mean last week? Yes, I remember,” Kara drawls. Beside her/halfway sitting on her lap, Lena snorts.

“That was the best.”

Alex glares. “Um, excuse you, no. No it was not. I had to sift through so much thirsting over my sister on like, every social media platform. It was the worst day of my life.”

Brainy’s brow furrows. “Surely that cannot be correct, Alex. Statistically speaking-”

Alex holds up a hand, cutting him off. “Trauma can’t be measured, Brainy.”

Kelly chuckles and presses a consoling kiss to Alex’s cheek, and it makes the tough agent melt into a doe-eyed puddle of mush that Kara snorts. And she says they’re gross... Kara sneaks a glance at Lena from the corner of her eye, and she catches Lena looking at her. She leans close and jostles her gently as she drops her head onto Lena’ shoulder. “We’re never gonna live that down, are we?”

“Probably not.”

“We have the worst friends.” When this elicits nothing but a chuckle, Kara tips her head back to see Lena still looking at her, a soft smile playing at her mouth and shining in her eyes. And like, this whole thing they’re doing is new, with the kissing and the actual dates and the... everything else. But the thing where Kara catches Lena looking at her and she doesn’t look away? That freakin’ knocks her out, every single time. “Hey,” she manages.

Lena grins down at her. “Hi.”

So yeah. Maybe the initial circumstances weren’t ideal, and she doesn’t love the mockery that’s been heaped upon her by all of her friends and loved ones (including Winn, who’d sent a missive from the future that literally just said ‘LOL’). But the fact is, Kara muses as she surges up just enough to kiss the corner of Lena’s mouth, that she doesn’t regret a thing.

[primasveraas-writing]

"the holy or the broken" -Ted Lasso

I'm so sorry.

WORD COUNT: 2401

XXX

There are three eras in Roy’s life, and they’re all defined by the same woman.

The third echoes the first: Roy Kent, angry at the world with no one to pull him out of his frustration. It’s also worse, though, because before, Roy lived in blissful ignorance of the joy and sorrow that laid ahead.

Rebecca and Ted express their surprise at Roy’s anger. They thought him changed, or perhaps that grief would prevail over rage, and they were wrong. Because Roy Kent, when stripped of everything he is -his athleticism and grim humor and the love of his life- has anger. Nothing less and nothing more.

At first, he can’t say her name. He doesn’t even think it, because every reminder of her is a reminder that she’s gone. Despite her mark on everything- the furniture they picked out together, the bed they shared, her usual seat at the dining table, the compliments she gave his hair and clothes- Roy doesn’t think of her. Which means he doesn’t think at all, so he becomes his anger and his pain, and nothing else.

He stops coaching, obviously. Nobody asks him if he’ll keep going, nor does he announce his departure. His absence, professionally, personally, emotionally- is expected fully. Though people still coming to the fucking house. He tolerates her parents, and Phoebe once or twice, but eventually the visits dwindle, and Roy doesn’t check his phone or answer the door. There’s shouting, sometimes- inevitably Ted Lasso- but Roy has soundproof headphones for a reason and he’s perfectly fine with calling the cops on Ted. And he does, more than once.

His sister begs him to talk to her, or at least to Phoebe, and Roy, in all his anger, doesn’t have the heart to turn his niece away. So it’s just her and Roy, a few days a week, and they order food directly to the house and Phoebe tells him about school, and he grunts in acknowledgment. She cries sometimes too, and that’s when he holds her. No words are exchanged, but he comforts her, enough so that the sobs stop. The numb feeling he has remains intact.

The yoga moms scout his address, somehow, and drop off a wine basket- they drink in relative silence, and clean up his house and make a few casseroles. He picks at the food, but they slowly disappear, and it’s almost nice to eat more than once or twice a day.

It doesn’t get easier. People tell him it will, that the pain will start to lessen, but it doesn’t. Not three weeks after, or four, or five, or when summer emerges and the lilies bloom.

Roy’s not particularly good at adapting. He never wanted to be. And it’s bullshit that he’d have to start now, for some shit fucking luck and life-alerting occurrences he never saw coming.

Because he never expected that there would be an “after” regarding Keeley Jones. It’s not something he planned for and certainly not something he ever wanted. It’s just: one breath she’s there and the next, she’s not. Gone and the house empty, her office too, and suddenly every space at Richmond is filled with flowers because Roy doesn’t accept a single bouquet.

He does start to say her name, although only to his sister- the only adult he talks to. He spits it out, with venom, and he suspects that it’s this habit that prompts Rebecca to show up at his house.

She sneaks her way in, the stubborn shit. Apparently, she hid down the street until he ordered food, bribed the deliverer with an obscene amount of money, and rang his doorbell herself. Rebecca slips into the entry before Roy realizes it’s her, and slams the door behind her.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He hisses, and to her credit, Rebecca doesn’t flinch. She gives her best businesswoman smile, the one that so directly contradicts the flint in her eyes, and straightens.

“Someone informed me that you made developments in your grief-

“Fuck you-”

“-so I thought a visit was due.”

“Get the fuck out of my house.”

“Somebody told me once that I was always welcome in her home. Has that changed?”

“Yeah. She’s fucking dead.”

Rebecca does bristle at that one but she doesn’t challenge the statement. Instead, she clears her throat, setting Roy’s food down on the table in the foyer.

“Your sister told me how quiet you’ve been. And that any time you talk about Keeley, you do so with an incredible amount of anger.”

Roy doesn’t deign to respond, glowering at Rebecca instead. She takes a look around the room, in all its dusty glory. Lights off, trash piling on the floor, clothes strewn over backs of couches. It matches Roy, in terms of appearance. Unkept. Uncared for. Unloved.

“I’m calling the police,” Roy decides, scanning the room for his phone. “You can’t fucking impersonate a food deliverer. Or fucking be here when I don’t want you to be.”

“I paid him handsomely-”

“-illegal. And fireable.”

“-enough so that his salary for the next few months should be covered.”

“Get out.”

“I can’t do that.”

“I don’t give a damn about what you’re here to fucking do or say. Leave me the fuck alone.”

“And leave you to stew in your anger and your filth? I don’t think so.”

And Rebecca struts into his living room and seats herself on a sofa.

“Dr. Sharon proposed to me that your anger had legitimate grounds. Not just your usual brooding about playing and coaching a game for a living, but you know,” Rebecca gestures to Roy. “Real reasons to be so surly.”

“My fucking wife died.”

“Yes, well. My best friend died yet I’ve been outside over the past few months.” She gives Roy another placid smile. “Despite the fact that I’m mourning.”

“It’s different.”

“Undoubtedly, yes. You’ve been much unhealthier in your habits.”

“Fuck you,” Roy growls. “Get the fuck out of my house.”

“No.” Keeley would refer to that as Rebecca’s scariest tone. “I came to talk.”

“I don’t care.” His hands clench into fists.

“You’re angry at Keeley.”

“I’m fucking pissed at you and your fucking break-in habits. Did you fucking compare notes with fucking Lasso?”

“You need someplace to direct your anger, and since fate dealt you both such a terrible hand, the only thing you can think to do is blame Keeley.”

“That makes as much fucking sense as you impersonating a takeaway driver. Fuck you.”

“So you go from not being able to say her name to saying it like a curse because you’re much more comfortable with your anger than sorrow.”

“I can say Keeley’s name.”

“Can you say it without sounding like the angriest person on the entire planet, Roy?”

“Fuck off.”

“Well?” Rebecca stands. In heels, she towers over Roy, who glares right back at her. “Show me you can, Roy.”

“I don’t have to prove shit to you.”

“No. But I asked you to.”

“I’m not fucking angry at my dead fucking wife.”

‘You’re angry at someone.”

“Yeah. You.”

“Come on now, Roy. Do better.”

“I’m NOT fucking angry at Keeley!”

Rebecca raises an eyebrow. “Clearly.”

“Fuck you.” Roy paces before her, ignoring how every step makes his knee throb. “Fuck you, fuck off. Fuck you.”

“Are you even sad?” Rebecca says quietly, and Roy freezes, his muscles clenching painfully.

“Ask me again,” he dares, his tone low. He takes a step closer to Rebecca, who remains unfazed.

“I said: are you sad your wife died in your arms, Roy?”

“Fuck you!” Roy bellows. He spins away to upturn the coffee table, sending dishes crashing to the floor.

“Do you miss her? Do you wish she hadn’t died?”

“I’ll fucking kill you.”

“So I’ll see Keeley again. How lovely.”

Roy roars, using the full force of his body to punch a hole in the wall. His fist comes out covered in plaster, bright red blood leaking from his knuckles dusted white.

“She fucking died in a freak fucking accident. There’s nothing- nothing- she could have done differently.”

“But she left you.”

“She fucking- she-” Roy’s chest heaves as he looks wildly around the room, at anything but the woman in front of him. “She was supposed to get her fucking nails done. We were going to get Thai for dinner. We had a sexy fucking weekend planned, and she was going to come home and it all would have been fucking fine.”

“And now she’s gone.”

“We can’t do any of that shit. Can’t fucking fall asleep next to her ever again. Or hold her fucking hand. We had fucking plans-” His words catch in his throat, and he looks away, examining the new damage to the wall. “We had plans.”

“Roy-”

“Don’t.” He closes his eyes. “You riled me up. Is that what you fucking wanted?”

“Yes,” Rebecca admits, and she retakes her seat on the couch, disregarding the surrounding wreckage. “Since the one person you want to talk to is gone, I figured I’d substitute.”

Roy glances around the house, at the forgotten groceries by the entrance, at the overturned table, and at the destroyed wall. “Good fucking job.”

“Thanks,” Rebecca says swiftly. “I figured I’d be better at it than Ted.”

“I’d have fucking killed him.”

“I thought so.” Rebecca sighs, massaging her temple. For the first time since her arrival, her bravado fades and her shoulders slump. It’s a familiar sight, one Roy witnessed the last time he saw Rebecca- at Keeley’s funeral, where all traces of the usually confident woman had faded away, and a grieving shell stood in her place. “Is that it, then? All the anger is for what’s never to be?”

“Yeah. That’s it.”

“And this is the first time you’re realizing it?”

Roy’s eyes narrow. “Yeah, it is.”

Rebecca shrugs. “Okay.”

Silence prevails for a long while, then Roy sighs and takes a seat next to Rebecca.

“You know, my office has quite literally never been quieter. Even with Ted bursting in at all hours, it’s just… not the same. I started to get frustrated at Higgins trying to coordinate with me simply because he’s not the person I want to see. And then I woke up angry, too. Absolutely pissed at the sun just for rising. Because every day that I experience is one I should be sharing with her.”

She looks down at her hands, which tremble slightly. “It’s not fair. And I have nowhere to put all my anger and blame.”

Roy wordlessly gestures to the wall, and Rebecca gives a soft laugh.

“There’s one option.” Then, she swipes at her eyes, and sniffs.

“Keeley would have never forgiven any of us if we gave up on you, Roy.”

“I know.” He clears his throat. “She told me as much. About me.” He rolls his eyes, then blinks rapidly. “I’m not supposed to give up on myself.”

“Good job,” Rebecca retorts, and Roy growls, but Rebecca gives another breathy laugh. “You didn’t call the police on me. I’d say that’s a good sign.”

“Don’t let it go to your fucking head.”

“No. Of course not.”

“Thank you,” Roy says very, very quietly. Rebecca takes his hand and squeezes it briefly. Her palm comes away coated in dust and blood.

“Clean up, Roy,” she tells him, standing. “I’ll be seeing you soon.”

-

Rebecca leaves, but she sends over a team of cleaners and a fresh batch of groceries. For the first time since Keeley died, his fridge is fully stocked with food for him to make into meals, and the house is spotless. He sends a text to his sister, telling her to fuck off in a way she’ll know means thank you, and showers. He trims his beard and dries himself off with a freshly laundered towel, then he falls asleep ass naked on the bed and sleeps for twelve hours.

He goes to see Phoebe and the rest of his family. They catch him up on all the petty bullshit he doesn’t give a fuck about, and it’s nearly normal, except that he drives home alone to an empty house.

He goes back to yoga, and every stretch feels like he’s never done a downward dog before in his life. Still, the wine after is good, and he ends up going home with a spare bottle and another casserole, and so another part of his life resumes.

It’s a slow process. Richmond is a hard place to face, with Ted trying to be casual as he checks in on him, and the boys stepping around him like glass, and Jaime Tartt in tears when he first catches sight of Roy. Her office, the lack of visits from his wife during the day, and the plaque commemorating her on the wall hurt like getting that phone call all over again. But it’s the beginning of the mourning process, Dr. Sharon will tell him, and now that it’s started, the hurt will eventually lessen.

With every end, a beginning.

Roy takes his first steps.

-

There are three eras in Roy’s life, and a thousand different Roys.

There’s the prodigy footballer, eight years old and scoring goal after goal in every match. There’s the Chelsea player, a championship winner, then the Richmond player, bittered by age. Injured Roy Kent, retired, coaching his kid niece’s football team. Then, briefly: professional commentator. Richmond coach.

Roy Kent, who fucking hates Jaime Tartt except usually his girlfriend is nice at least. Roy Kent, Keeley’s boyfriend. Roy Kent, Keeley’s fiancé, husband- widower.

Roy Kent- a bastard luckily enough that Keeley loved him too. Roy Kent, who lit up when she walked into the room, who smiled more during their time together than he ever had before in his life. Who wanted to start a family with her. Who doted on his wife and promised her the world and a thousand other cheesy things, because she had that power over him.

Roy, who was beside her at the very end, who evoked her last words and smile. Roy, who had that horrible, painful privilege of easing his wife’s passing with reassurances and small comforts and anything he could do to make her feel his love.

Roy, who loves her still. Who’ll die loving her and missing her, and wishing they had just one more day.

Roy, who learns to live to make her proud.

[hello-im-not-a-possum]

18. Skeleton

Buddy and Sammy find the “goldfish room” as the latter calls it, AKA the closet where Joey keeps his skeletons, literally. And in the process, Buddy learns about a few of the skeletons in Sammy’s metaphorical closet. (Set during ink hell, pre loop, post Buddy befriending the lost ones/searchers.)

The Prophet was a strange ally.

It was weird to work alongside someone who worships the guy who tore you in half and is the biggest reason why you’re stuck in a nightmarish, inescapable studio, especially when it wasn’t the nicest or friendliest person before getting claimed by the ink. (Although, as he thought back on it, had he ever met Sammy before it was claimed by the Ink?)

But ANY ally was better than an enemy, especially when that ally knows the studio better than anyone else down here. Besides, it seemed like the Ink man was either unaware of their past or didn’t even know who they used to be, and even if it did, it wasn’t angry about their past issues.

At the same time, working on scavenging trips with the former musician was a nightmare; it was way too tranquil about the situation, and there were too many weird murderous monsters that the wolf and gofer were aware of.

“I do not need to run, little wolf. I can evade these creatures without issue through my Lord’s gift.” The Prophet calmly stated as Buddy gestured confusion about why it didn’t run when the pair heard something that sounded suspiciously like the projectionist’s screams. “Besides, running through these halls is risky, I would be heard by those… more unsavory denizens of this studio and get ambushed by them.”

He wished his typewriter was quieter in instances like this, being able to type out ‘But what if you get caught by your lord?’ and other messages to hand to him without risking alerting the Ink Demon would be great. Or just having his voice back in general.

“If my Lord decides to send me back to the puddles, then it is his right to do so to prove I have changed.” He answered the unspoken question. “But it does mean that I have to work harder to get him to notice how much I have improved, get him to notice me…” 

‘Please don’t read my mind unless I give you the “go for it” gesture. It’s creepy otherwise.’

“My apologies, little wolf, while your thoughts come in quieter than everybody else’s… they’re still noticeable, especially when it’s just the two of us.”

Buddy hesitantly nodded and just tried to lead the Prophet out of the ransacked room to look for more stray supplies.

A few more hours of searching lead the pair to a locked room, something that experience told him meant that either it was another dead end or a hidden treasure trove of supplies, and not wanting to go back to the safe house empty handed, he was ready to roll those dice.

Buddy gestured for the Prophet to stand guard as he picked the door’s lock, and as the door slowly creaked open, he was thankful that he couldn’t speak because the scream that came out from his mouth would’ve been loud enough to alert every monster in the studio.

The former gofer felt sick to his stomach when he saw them. Piles upon piles of rotting, mangled, corpses. Human Corpses, not toony corpses like the other Borises or the butchered up members of the Butcher gang. Most of them were unrecognizable, partly because he had never seen most of these people in his life, and partly because they had decayed so much that what remained was hard to figure out who was who and what. The oldest corpses were nothing but skeletons and clothes, and the freshest one looked like…

...Like his own body.

“The goldfish room...” The prophet muttered loud enough for Buddy to hear, startling the poor pup out of his skin as he didn’t hear him enter behind him.

The wolf shuddered and continued to scour the room for anything worth the hassle of all of this. Boris wanted to take a few of the bones, which Buddy unenthusiastically obliged.

“Don’t eat those!” The Prophet interjected so loudly and harshly that it startled both the former gofer and the wolf toon. The ink creature’s anger was so much scarier with how rare it was to see now. “Especially not him! He’s my-” The Prophet stopped itself by covering its ‘mouth’ with its hands as if it was about to reveal a big secret and just took the skeletal arm out of Buddy’s hands and put it back where he found it. Its voice went back to it’s normal calm tone that reminded him of someone who was on the verge of falling asleep, but Buddy heard somberness in the musician’s pitch. “...they’re unclean...”

‘Prophet?’ Buddy gave him the “go ahead, read my mind” gesture. ‘Prophet, what is this place? Who are these people?’

“...You’ve seen your own corpse among them, correct?”

Buddy nodded.

“I know you’ve met Joey, but tell me; ...Has he ever called you ‘Henry’ before?”

‘Yes he has, but what does that have to do with…’ he gestured at the bodies on the floor ‘this?!’

“Henry’s been gone for a long time now.” The prophet stated, but there was a hint of recollection in his tone that weakened the calmness, and the more he talked, the more broken (for lack of a better term) his voice became. “Do you think that you were Joey’s first replacement goldfish? That after Henry left the studio, you were Joey’s only other other Henry?”

Buddy’s ears began ringing and he heard music; it was loud, distorted, fast-paced, and all over the place, the type of music that makes your heart pound out of your chest and makes your hackles stand up, the type of music that tells you to run, but doesn’t clue you in to where or why. The prophet’s body started to shake and tremble.

“The first Other-Henry was actually named Henry as well. And like his predecessor, was an excellent artist who really connected with the characters...”

‘Sammy? What’s going on? do you hear this too?!’

“But unlike Stein, Ross was a very stubborn person who refused to let anyone push him around, especially by either Joey or myself. Surprisingly, I liked that man, but he didn’t last long...”

Fear kept Buddy’s legs frozen to the ground as he covered his ears in a fruitless attempt to muffle the music, it felt like it was being played directly in his head, and then it clicked when the whispers started up, whispers in their tone, but not in volume, they were loud enough to drown out parts of what the Prophet was saying;

‘Sammy help us!’

“The next one was more like you, a younger, less experienced and more skittish person, his first name was ‘Lawrence’ so everyone called him ‘Larry’ to avoid confusion...”

‘Sammy, where are you?’

“...But he was also too nosy for that poor boy’s own good.”

‘you’re too weak!’

“The one after that was a scatterbrained fellow, very passionate about his work but didn’t focus very much on one topic or another...”

The Prophet’s monologue was completely drowned out by the music and chorus of desperate and angry “Other Henries” at this point. Buddy knew he was still talking because of the musician’s gestures, but didn’t hear a single word out of him. 

‘Saaaaaammyyyyyyy....’ ‘You’re such a spineless coward...’ ‘Sammy please save us..!’ ‘Why did you let Joey kill us?’ ‘The ink... it’s so cold...’ ‘No wonder Susie hates you so much...’ ‘Sammy, please! It hurts!’ ‘Why did you let us die?’ ‘Why won’t you help us?’ ‘You’re no better than Joey.’ ‘Sammy, help us!’ ‘I thought you loved me...’ ‘Sammy, help us!’ ‘You promised me that you’d always be there!’ ‘Sammy, help us!’ ‘They were right about you...’ ‘Sammy, help us!’ ‘Saaaaaammyyyyyyy....’

He knew that the lost ones, searchers and Prophet could hear each others’ thoughts, but didn’t understand what that was like until now that he was hearing Sammy’s thoughts. No wonder most of them were always so depressed and on edge...

‘Sammy?’ the gofer shook Sammy gently, only to hear his own voice join the chorus of other Henries as one of the ones who sounded like he was mad at him. ‘Sammy, snap out of it!’ he shook the Prophet harder, still not waking the Ink creature out of its trance. ‘SAMMY!’ Doing the first thing that came to mind out of desperation, Buddy slapped the mask clean off of it.

The music and voices died as if they were a candle light snuffed out by the wind.

For a few seconds that felt more like hours, Buddy and Sammy stared at each other in silence before Sammy put its mask back on as if nothing happened and led the toon wolf out of the goldfish room, took a key out of its pocket and locked it behind them.

-----

Back in the safe house, Buddy started up a pot of bacon soup, the stuff tasted a little bit better when it was hot while Sammy tuned the banjo in the dining area and Dot tried to stir up conversation.

“So... how did the supply run go?”

“Fine.”

Buddy involuntarily let out a snort as he took the soup off the stove and took out his typewriter.

[It was the scariest one we’ve ever done so far.

While looking around for stuff, we ended up in this place S The Prophet called ‘the Goldfish room’ and it was filled with dead bodies. HUMAN dead bodies. And mine was in the pile! I couldn’t tell if it was haunted or if it was just the prophet’s thoughts going]

“Little wolf, I do not wish to think about that room again...”

[Sorry.]

The wolf sheepishly put the typewriter to the side and poured the soup into bowls. As the toon and lost one ate, the prophet mostly just stared into his bowl as if he was watching something in it.

“...Before my enlightenment, I was not a good person.” The masked musician stated unprompted.

“Huh?”

“I wasn’t an evil person per say, and I wouldn’t go as far as to call the man I used to be a monster.” He sighed and adjusted his mask. “But I was certainly a bad person, an asshole, a coward who hid behind physical strength, and I had more vices than virtues.”

[Prophet, what are you talking about?]

“I’m trying to answer the questions I know you have before either of you two pester them out of me. Maybe when you’re sated my Lord will allow me to forget again.”

[Are you sure? you seemed really upset back ...there.]

“Well look at it this way, maybe getting it off your chest will help you feel better about it?”

“I suppose...” The prophet sighed again.

“So what does you being a crackhead before finding the Ink Demon Religion have to do with a room full of dead bodies?”

“Dorthy!”

“...I’ll just listen before asking anything else.”

“Thank you.” It readjusted its mask. “Now where was I...” it hummed to itself for a bit before speaking again, with venom slowly but surly pooling into its words. “I had more vices than virtues, and Joey could see all of both, using my virtues to his advantage, and using my vices against myself, he did everything he could to keep me from leaving him too, and it worked.”

The prophet took in a deep breath to stabilize itself.

“Every time I tried to leave, he did something else to make me stay; ‘I love you’s turned to gifts, gifts to false promises, false promises to threats, threats to blackmail, blackmail to going through with it, and when he felt me slipping through his fingers he turned to taking advantage of my addictions... That... monster was a parasite in all aspects except physically... And I didn’t even notice until I might as well have been a walking corpse as I was seeing others march to my fate, but I couldn’t even so much as squeak out a warning without Joey swooping in on his behalf. Some Henries, heads of the art department, didn’t need to be warned by me as they found out what would await them and fled. But Joey didn’t like that... When I tried to warn the ones who needed to be warned, it was easy for him to dismiss me as a loon, a drunk, and an addict, until eventually I just gave up. I couldn’t even save myself, let alone anyone else... let alone the other art departments...”

“...I just stopped trying to keep Joey from leading the sheep to the slaughter, maybe they’re right to be angry at me for being such a coward...”

It then turned to face the wolf and put its hand on his shoulder.

“You’ve asked yourself if you’ve ever met me before the Ink had claimed me, as for that, I don’t know, nor do I think it matters, Buddy. I was nothing but a shallow and beaten husk of myself long before I even had tasted the ink. Even if you met me before then, you only met a ghost, not a person.”

The three then stayed in silence for a while before the clicks of Buddy’s typewriter caught the other two’s attention.

[Well, if it helps you any I think you’re not as bad of a person as you tell yourself you used to be.]

“And I don’t need to hear everyone’s thoughts to know that you’ve really stepped up to the plate when it counted. I don’t think a coward would try to do have the stuff you’re doing now.”

“Thanks you two” The Prophet’s voice cracked with emotion. “That... that really means a lot to me.”

[bibbawrites]

im so glad your requests are open you dont have to but would you do a luke and reggie one shot? maybe reggie has been getting flustered around luke lately and when the chemistry moment happens reggie realizes its a crush and works up the nerve to tell him and luke is all flirty which just completely renders reggie useless lol and luke initiates a kiss that leads to a makeout session?

this turned out a bit shorter than expected so doing it as a blurb thing, i hope you enjoy!!

(set after julie can touch the boys, which also made them visible and touchable to everyone apparently, so flynn and julie's dad can see them now)

Reggie had been thinking. It all started when Luke had serenaded Reggie to prove he had chemistry with everyone, and now Reggie was completely and utterly in love with Luke Patterson.

He needed advice, and quickly.

"Hey Jules, can I ask you something?" Reggie poofed into Julie's bedroom, freezing when he noticed Flynn sat on the bed too, painting Julie's nails a bright purple. "Oh... I can come back later if you want."

"You're fine Reg, what's up?" Julie smiled, and Reggie relaxed slightly.

Flynn patted an empty spot on the bed next to her and Reggie flopped down, taking a deep breath.

"How did you know you were bisexual?" He asked softly. Julie and Flynn exchanged a look.

"I just kinda always knew that I liked girls as much as I liked boys, and when I looked it up and read about being bisexual everything just kinda made sense. Why?" Julie explained.

"I think I have a crush on someone, but he's a guy and I know I love girls, like really love girls, but I kinda maybe also like guys too?" Reggie admitted, and both girls grinned at him.

"We're so proud of you Reggie. That must have been so hard to admit to us." Flynn started, putting the lid back on the nail polish bottle so that she could take Reggie's hand.

"And you know we love you no matter who you like, right?" Julie finished.

"Yeah I know that." He smiled. "Thanks guys."

"So who is it?" Flynn questioned. Reggie blushed.

"I can't tell you." He mumbled, glancing at Julie. "You'll be mad."

"I promise you, no matter who it is I won't be mad at you." Julie assured him, taking his other hand in hers gently, trying not to smudge her freshly painted nails.

"Is it Julie's dad?" Flynn joked. Reggie shook his head quickly.

"So it's one of the boys then. Alex or Luke." Flynn tried.

"Or Willie?" Julie added.

"No it's not Alex or Willie." Reggie said, before realising he had basically admitted his crush to the two girls, who were looking at him with matching looks of realisation on their faces.

"Reg, why would you think I'd be mad at you for having a crush on Luke?" Julie questioned.

"Cause you like him?" Reggie said, as if it was obvious.

"Jules are you cheating on me?" Flynn gasped playfully. Reggie's eyes widened.

"You guys are dating?!" He exclaimed, glancing between the two of them.

"Oh Reggie." Julie laughed. "I told you this when it happened, do you not remember? When you and Luke helped me and my dad wash the car?"

Reggie blushed, remembering the day. Luke had taken his shirt off after Reggie had sprayed him with water, and after that the rest of the day was kinda a blur. All he could think about was Luke.

"I was a little distracted." He admitted. Julie shook her head, clearly understanding him.

"I should have known when you didn't say anything." She answered.

"So are you gonna tell him?" Flynn butted in. Reggie shook his head quickly.

"No way. After Luke and Alex broke up, Luke made a rule that no member of Sunset Curve was to ever date another member again."

"But you're not Sunset Curve anymore. You're Julie and the Phantoms. And Julie and the Phantoms doesn't have that rule." Flynn pointed out.

"You think I should tell him then?" Reggie asked, and both girls nodded. Reggie thought for a moment.

"Okay then." He decided. "I'll do it."

Julie and Flynn cheered for a moment, and when they stopped it was replaced by a look of realisation on Julie's face.

"Wait, Luke and Alex dated?"

-

Poofing into the garage to find Luke was the scariest thing that Reggie had ever done, and he'd done some pretty scary things in his life.

Luke was curled up in the loft, doodling on a scrap piece of paper, something he did whenever he was struggling to find the right lyrics.

"Hey." Reggie spoke, alerting Luke to his presence. The guitarist looked up, a grin appearing on his face when he saw Reggie.

"Hi." He replied, putting his pen down. "What you up to?"

"I need to tell you something?" Reggie said hesitantly, sitting down across from Luke

"You sure about that?" Luke joked. "You sound uncertain."

"No I'm sure." Reggie replied determinedly.

"Okay then, what's going on in that pretty head of yours?" Luke asked, and Reggie's heart fluttered.

"P-pretty?" He stuttered. Luke grinned.

"The prettiest." He agreed. "I'd even say gorgeous."

"You think I'm..." Reggie trailed off, shaking his head. "No, stop distracting me. This is important. I need to say this."

"Go for it, gorgeous." Luke prompted.

"I..." Reggie trailed off, his gaze drifting down to Luke's lips. Luke smirked.

"Cat got your tongue?" He teased. "Or something else?"

He licked his lips, and Reggie could feel his face going bright red.

"Luke, I-" Luke cut him off by pulling him in and connecting their lips roughly. Reggie gasped, eyes fluttering shut as he let Luke take the lead, controlling the kiss.

Luke's hands were everywhere, in Reggie's hair, running down his back, under Reggie's shirt, wrapped around his neck. It was as if Luke had 8 arms.

Reggie relaxed into the kiss, gaining a bit of confidence as he pushed Luke backwards, moving to straddle the older boy, their lips never once separating.

"Is this what you were trying to tell me?" Luke mumbled between kissed. Reggie hummed in response, not wanting to miss out on a second of making out with Luke.

Clearly Julie and Flynn were wrong. He didn't have to tell Luke.

Because Luke already knew.

[pips-fics]

ask: hello :] could i request a fic where maybe yechan's messing around with the rest of the group (maybe during a game, like their minigame heaven?) and ends up with a concussion, and the boys take care of him afterwards? thank you!! (also! trying to choose a favorite lucy fic on your survey was difficult bc i love all of them lmaooo, but especially the ending of your recent wonsang fic, yeop's little comforting bit with the tentative song was super soft and cute :(

tw: blood (from a bloody nose), a head injury/concussion, mentions of alcohol/drinking, fears about death and brain damage from injury, lots of medical inaccuracies (probably), hospital setting

thank you again, anon, you're so sweet <3 i hope you enjoy the fic!!

caution: ghost stories may cause injury –––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

the clatter of raindrops against the roof was a soothing backdrop to the absolutely bone-chilling stories that gwangil seemed to never run out of. it had been yechan’s idea - telling ghost stories while they were drinking. gwangil was always teasing him for being too scared to hear them, and yechan had hoped the alcohol would help. wishful thinking, it turned out, but the realization came too late, because there was no way yechan was backing out after egging gwangil on.

it didn’t stop him from curling up in the safety of sangyeop’s lap and covering his ears for the scariest parts of each tale. it didn’t stop him from whining about how sangyeop was the only nice member of their band, either, because that earned him a placating head pat from the vocalist, which felt quite nice.

at the other end of the couch, wonsang was doubled over, cackling at yechan’s terror and at the stories gwangil was telling. he was laughing so hard his stomach evidently hurt, which, in yechan’s opinion, served him right.

still, nights like this were quite fun. sangyeop, who was authentic and kind even on his worst days, became warmer and softer at times like this, and absentmindedly carded his fingers through yechan’s hair. yechan felt safe, even with the fear, which really did him very little harm in this environment. gwangil was a fantastic storyteller, all the more dramatic with the buzz of a few beers, and looked adorable with his cheeks flushed pink. the rain continued on, a steady and calming rhythm to support the melody of wonsang’s laughter.

yechan wished nights like this would never end, but drowsiness began to weigh on him. he sunk into it, breaths deepening and evening out, and thought that he hadn’t felt so relaxed in a long time.

moments later, a clash of thunder jolted him awake and into motion. there was a moment where reality and his dreamscape blurred, and so in an attempt to scramble away from a hazy looking darkness that was probably a ghost, yechan smashed the back of his head against whatever was behind him.

almost immediately, yechan’s ear was assaulted with a too-close cry of pain. he jumped up and away from the noise, still half-asleep, and tripped over the coffee table. yechan realized with a touch of humor and a hefty sense of guilt what must have happened just before losing consciousness.

——

the room felt far too bright as it came back into focus.

“woah, hyung, are you okay?” gwangil’s voice roared loud in his ears, enough to send spikes of pain through his head and stabbing at the back of his eyes. yechan thought the younger man must have been right next to him, but as he took in his surroundings, he realized that gwangil hadn’t even been speaking to yechan, but to sangyeop, a few feet away.

he must not have been out for long, then.

his relief was short-lived. sangyeop’s face was a bloody mess, expression scrunched up in pain. as his eyes met yechan’s, he tried to mask it, but the damage was done. yechan felt sick at sangyeop’s forced smile.

“i’m alright,” sangyeop said, taking a tissue from the box gwangil was offering. “looks worse than it is, i’m sure. yechan-hyung, are you okay?”

“yes,” yechan croaked, finding his throat painfully raw. sangyeop really was the kindest out of all of them, he thought, feeling triply miserable. yechan wasn’t at all sure that he should be standing, but he figured checking on sangyeop was the least he could do, so he made his wobbly way back to the couch.

well, yechan thought, he’d managed to ruin their peaceful night. wonsang, who rarely drank but always mellowed out when he did, was now standing with his shoulders hunched and tense. everyone else looked just as alert. they were all very much awake and feeling as sober as they’d ever been. it was unlikely that anyone was going to want to hear any more scary stories.

yechan felt his eyes burn with tears of anger and embarrassment, and tilted his head back so that they wouldn’t fall. he regretted the action almost immediately. black spots ballooned in his vision and pain bloomed from the back of his head. it was enough to make him woozy. fortunately, wonsang caught yechan before he toppled over, his brows furrowing in concern. yechan quickly waved him off.

“sorry,” he said, wiping away the wetness he’d failed to keep from his cheeks, “i’m no good with blood, and the alcohol, you know, it doesn’t help.”

wonsang nodded, even though he didn’t look convinced. he looked viscerally worried, actually, which made yechan worried, so he turned away. what he couldn’t see would hurt less.

“we should all get some rest, probably,” yechan said, trying to move on from wonsang’s silent interrogation and also genuinely wanting to sleep. he snuck a quick glance at sangyeop (the sight of blood really wasn’t doing him any favors) and was relieved to see that gwangil was helping him clean up what looked to be the tail end of the bleeding.

the others readily agreed with yechan’s suggestion. it was nice to be listened to, for a minute, until yechan found himself alone and in pain and still sick to his stomach, only now he didn’t have the excuse of being grossed out by blood which meant that something might actually be wrong.

maybe he was just tired. yechan tried to convince himself that was it, but something told him it wasn’t. then again, it might have been the voice of his paranoia saying that, telling him that he might have a concussion and that something awful could happen if he let himself fall asleep.

even when he tried, though, sleeping eluded him. the pain had not lessened and had spread to his neck, and even the soft pillow hurt his head. yechan bit his lip, tried to make himself think clearly, and concluded that the solution was informing himself on head injuries via the infinite wisdom of the internet.

the internet told him that he might be dying, that he might have lose his memory or his ability to speak, that maybe his brain has become more akin to a scrambled egg than a functional part of his body, and all sorts of other things that yechan tried desperately to be okay with, or to not think about at all. he tried to focus on the rain, but the rain - the soft, soothing rain, even without its thunder - seemed to have turned on him. he no longer heard a rhythm, but the echo of what felt like each individual drop, amplified, booming, and painful.

——

about three hours later, gwangil found yechan curled up in a corner of the couch, crying softly. his computer was balanced precariously on his knees, light glaring off of the wetness on his cheeks, and gwangil could see that his eyes were bloodshot.

“hyung!”

yechan responded as though he’d been struck, flinching away with a muffled whimper.

“gwangil,” yechan whispered, sniffling. “stop shouting.”

gwangil, who could not remember the last time he’d heard yechan whisper - if he ever had at all - was thoroughly shaken. one thing he was certain of was that he had never seen any of his hyungs cry - not from anything other than being overwhelmed by emotion during a performance.

he didn’t know what to do.

for a few moments, his hands fluttered about uselessly, looking for something to touch, something to fix - but even just speaking had caused yechan pain, so he didn’t dare make contact with the older man. instead, his fingers settled on the the computer and pulled it from it’s owner’s easily relenting grasp.

as soon as he saw what was on the screen, gwangil felt ice cold fear shoot through him. it must have shown on his face, because yechan’s hand, unsteady as it was, ran up and down his arm.

“it’s okay, gwangil,” yechan said, breath shaky. “it’s– i’m just–”

yechan broke off, the absence of words speaking for itself. gwangil inhaled slowly. the instinctual fear had begun to melt away. as soon as yechan started comforting him, gwangil began to understand that the older man was scared, too, and that the words on the computer screen said more about yechan’s fears than about his actual condition. gwangil knew how internet searches went when it came to investigating one’s health.

he nodded, and took another deep breath.

it was probably not as bad as they’d both feared. yechan would most likely be okay. that didn’t mean that gwangil would take this lightly. something was wrong, even if it probably wasn’t life threatening.

another breath.

he thought about how long yechan had sat here alone, hurting and scared and putting himself at further risk, deliberately keeping it all to himself. gwangil thought about how little that mattered, and felt his momentary frustration dissipate. it had been hours already, and yechan was still worried about this - he wasn’t a hypochondriac. something was wrong.

“hyung, you know, right?” gwangil said at last, trying to speak gently. “we have to go to the hospital.”

in the silence that followed, gwangil feared that yechan had stopped breathing.

“okay,” yechan said quietly, finally, exhausted and resigned. and then, in the same voice: “i think i’m going to throw up.”

“…fuck.”

gwangil didn’t know that much about concussions, but he was fairly certain that it was bad practice to move someone with a head injury. if yechan’s uncharacteristic stillness was anything to go by, he would guess that the internet agreed. he didn’t want to leave yechan alone, either, but after careful consideration, gwangil decided being quick was his best bet. he darted off, first to the bedroom. he shook sangyeop awake - quite roughly, probably, but he didn’t have time to be gentle.

“‘gil? wad’s wrong?” sangyeop slurred, half asleep, still.

“yechan-hyung’s hurt his head–”

sangyeop stood up so fast, he almost passed out before he could do anything to help. gwangil steadied him.

“we’ll need you to drive and - can you keep an eye on him? i’ll be right there.” there was a snag in gwangil’s voice, suddenly, the kind that meant a seam was about to come undone and ruin an entire garment. they didn’t have time for that, but sangyeop took a moment to lay a reassuring hand on the back of gwangil’s neck before they parted ways. it was a taste of “you did well, thank you” without the exact articulation - but the words would have to come later.

sangyeop found yechan sitting in the dark with his head in his hands as if it weighed a hundred pounds. he approached slowly, and spoke softly. “yechannie-hyung?”

yechan didn’t even look at him. “sangyeop?”

he hummed lightly in confirmation, and blinked quickly, willing his eyes to work better than they were meant to in the dark. yechan had a hand over his mouth, and sangyeop winced. he suddenly understood where gwangil had run off to, and hoped he wasn’t having too much trouble finding what he was looking for.

“hyung, can i rub your back?”

there was a moment of hesitation, and then a very quiet “please.”

sure to move slowly in order to avoid jostling the couch, sangyeop sat next to yechan. the older man slumped against him, and sangyeop could feel him trembling - from pain or nausea or both, sangyeop wasn’t sure.

“i don’t want to go to the hospital,” yechan mumbled. his voice was muffled against his hand, and unsteady. something like a broken laugh seized him before he continued, “we haven’t left yet, and i already want to come back home.”

sangyeop ached. it was something he excelled at, aching for the people he loved. sometimes it was a strength, and sometimes it just hurt. “i know,” he gently massaged yechan’s shoulders. “it will be okay,” he said.

gwangil returned with a mixing bowl soon after that, so sangyeop never found out if yechan believed him. as soon as the bowl was in yechan’s arms, he was retching. it came on violent and painful - with every retch came a gasp of pain at the movement, and the pressure, and it wasn’t long before yechan started crying.

sangyeop offered a hand, and yechan squeezed it readily. with his other hand, sangyeop did his best to hold yechan’s head steady as his body expelled the day’s meals and the night’s alcohol as well as it could.

in the end, once it started, it was over quickly. after about five minutes of unproductive retching, yechan’s body rebelled suddenly and forcefully, ejecting all of its contents one wave after the next. sangyeop worried that yechan didn’t have enough air, and found gwangil’s muttered reassurances to be a comfort, even though they weren’t meant for him.

fortunately, yechan retained consciousness, sputtering coughs earning him oxygen as his body let up. even so, it was alarmingly clear that the ordeal had sapped every ounce of energy he’d had left. tears streamed down his face, and he didn’t bother to wipe them away.

gwangil took the bowl without a word, and sangyeop stayed with yechan, hoping the silence was a comfort.

“it hurts,” yechan said, brokenly.

“i know,” sangyeop whispered. the older man looked miserable. “hyung, we’re going to have to get you to the car. gwangil can catch up.”

any other day, sangyeop was sure yechan would have wanted to wait. he hadn’t meant the suggestion to be a test of how poor yechan was feeling, but it confirmed it anyway, had there been any doubt.

“okay.”

gwangil caught up to them well before they made it to the car. they’d taken the stairs, weary of the damage an elevator might do, and it was slow going. by the time they made it to the car, yechan seemed to have run out of tears, or perhaps stopped them by sheer force of will.

fortunately, the hospital wasn’t far. that didn’t make the drive easy, but at least it wasn’t long. yechan was so out of it by the time they arrived that he put up very little resistance about entering, even though it was one of his least favorite places. he was just too tired.

after filling out some paperwork and answering some basic questions, sangyeop and gwangil were forced to wait in the lobby while yechan was taken - more reluctantly, this time - for examination on his own. sangyeop took the opportunity to text wonsang and fill him in on the details, hoping it would soften the sting of being left out of the loop for a short while. gwangil went to the restroom, and returned with red-ringed eyes.

“gwangil…” the younger man turned away, embarrassed, but sangyeop just laughed and hugged him to his side. “you did really well,” he said. “yechan-hyung will be okay now.”

gwangil nodded, but didn’t seem fully convinced until the doctors told him the same thing. it was a weight off of everyone’s shoulders. they were told that yechan needed dark, and quiet, and rest, which would be best achieved at home - but that he should stay the night for supervision. sangyeop and gwangil both decided to stay. it was an easy decision, no conversation needed - there were only a few more hours until morning, anyway.

——

wonsang woke up to a series of text messages that felt like a horror story.

he knew it wasn’t sangyeop’s intention. it was just the way he explained things: chronologically, rather than in order of importance. like, say, maybe mentioning that yechan was going to be fine right off the bat, instead of burying it in the middle of expository explanation and loads of medical jargon.

he knew they’d had other priorities, but he still intended to complain about it when they returned.

it didn’t happen. shocking, really, because wonsang was fond of harmless complaining. it generated good discussions, and he liked the attention, sometimes. he liked the reassurance that he would be heard, if he needed something.

this time, though, wonsang took one look at yechan and wanted nothing more than to make him feel okay.

he was sure the previous night had been worse, but that wasn’t comforting. the yechan wonsang was seeing looked fragile and brittle and pinched - it made him look old, the pain. wonsang wasn’t used to believing the age on yechan’s ID was accurate.

“hyung…” wonsang’s voice was watery when he spoke, much to his own surprise. even having sifted through sangyeop’s messages to find the reassuring truth that yechan would be fine, the worry had been overwhelming. it was still there, but seeing yechan home, in person, had a bigger impact than wonsang had prepared himself for.

“aw, wonsangie, don’t cry,” yechan said, teasing, but his eyes were warm and understanding. gwangil snorted, softly.

“says you.”

sangyeop elbowed the youngest of the group gently, and wonsang wasn’t sure that he wanted all of the details behind that exchange, if tears were indeed involved. if he did, the figured he could get them later.

at the moment, he just wanted to know that yechan was alright.

the group had breakfast together, just a light meal. they agreed that wonsang would keep watch on yechan while gwangil and sangyeop caught up on their sleep, so the group parted ways after that - half of them to the bedroom, the other half to yechan’s bed in the living room.

it wasn’t exactly reassuring, seeing yechan so compliant. wonsang tried to stay quiet, reminding himself that’s what yechan needed, but once he’d ensured that yechan was comfortable and properly resting, the words slipped out anyway.

“hyung, are you really okay?”

yechan blinked slowly, drowsiness clearly weighing him down, and he smiled. “wonsangie, come here.” wonsang obeyed, and yechan brought wonsang’s hand to his own chest. “i’m okay. you can feel it, right?”

under his palm, yechan’s heart beat. it was a steady rhythm, comforting. at times, wonsang had sought out his own pulse for similar reasons. rainy days had never been good to wonsang, and he liked to blame the inconsistency of the rain’s pounding for that, but the steady beat of a heart felt nice.

“it was scary,” yechan said suddenly, honestly. “and it hurt. it still does, but it will heal.”

wonsang’s breath shuddered, and then smoothed. “i’ll stay with you, hyung,” he said. he could hear a smile as yechan spoke again.

“i know.”

——

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[unmaskedagain]

Marinette: A merry Little Nightmare

Okay so I was thinking about the Crossover fic I did yesterday with the Disney orginal Movie Halloween Town and started to thinking about other favorite halloween town… The Nightmare Before Christmas. This of course reminded me of one of favorite Sterek fic (Teen wolf: Stiles/Derek) that I go back and read once a year. And I kind of wanted to create a  new ML AU for  something similar. I didn’t get very far with this so feel free to continue if you’d like!!! This got completely away from and went in a direction, I didn’t see coming… So yeah.

           Marinette had always been a little… different; since the second, she was born in fact. But, hey, that’s what happens when the jolliest Elf in Christmas land marries the scariest vampire in all of Halloween Town. It’s no wonder Jack Skellington, the pumpkin king, was so adamant about officiating their wedding!

           Her parents had met not long after the Pumpkin King tried his hand at Christmas. It went wrong. So very, very wrong. However, there was one bright side. The people from the various different holidays now knew the others existed.

           And was when things started to change.

           Because people wanted change.

           It wasn’t fun only celebrating their one holiday every year; even if they were really good at it. And it wasn’t before long that you saw Cupids hanging with the monsters under the bed. Elves and leprechauns going out for drinks. A few reindeer running after the Easter bunny. Snow Angels laughing with Evil Witches.

           Then Jack got a wonderful idea, and even managed to clear it by a very suspicious Santa, who was still just a bit traumatized from the last time Jack got an idea.

           Why not let the children get the chance they never got? They can grow and learn about each other’s cultures together.

           Thus, Ville des festivals was born. The city of festivals where citizens from holidays, both big and small, could come to live to together. And with the city came schools; Holiday High was the renowned of them. She had long gotten used to people asking “What are you?”

           To them, she was a living, breathing question mark, they long to solve.

           Marinette was born and raised in Ville des festivals. Her parents owned a bakery that produced everything from sugar cookies to Frog’s Breath pie.

           The bluenette wouldn’t change who she was for anything but it hadn’t been easy growing up. Her heritage came from two of the biggest holidays of all the Holidays. She was both, and at the same time neither.

Marinette never felt like she was scary enough for Halloween town. Or cheerful enough for Christmas Land. It always felt like a tug of war; sometimes. Like she was split in two. Like if she cut herself, her blood would come out as a sparkly white and dreadful black.

Sparkly white for her Dad, Tom, who reflected sheer Christmas magic; the kind kids get on Christmas morning, when snowed the night before, and they opened all their presents and think it’s over, only for their parents to bring out a puppy with a boy around his head.

Dreadful black for her mom, Sabine, who’s presence echoed the terror you feel when you walk alone at night on a full moon, through a graveyard, on Friday the 13th, during October, and you get an alert on your phone about a serial killer loose, and then it turns out the cemetery is also haunted.

It’s a wonder no one knew what to make of Marinette. She had a smile that brighten up a room better than any of Santa’s elves. She had a glare that could melt the flesh off the Boogieman.

Every teacher she ever had always stumbled over her name; their faces wondering if it was an error.

Cheng; a fearsome line of Vampires from Halloween Town, everyone knew that.

Dupain; a merry elf family from Christmas land who baked the best ginger bread cookies imaginable.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng… What? It had to be an error,

Oh their faces when they realized it wasn’t!

Sometimes, besides her parents, it was like only Marinette realized that someone could be both; that she was both.

When she went to visit her mother’s family in Halloween town; everyone knew her as Marinette, half-vampire daughter of Sabine, from the Angelus bloodline; a fearsome and terrible family. And it was wonderful! Marinette wore Victorian dresses and went to balls. She was the best vampire anyone could ever be. And they treated her like a vampire. No one seemed to realize that while she needed blood to drink, she also need regular food to eat too. That while Marinette did enjoy scaring people, sometimes it felt wrong.

And when she went to visit the North Pole with her dad; she was a merry elf who sang the best Christmas songs and that all the reindeer loved. She worked with Mrs. Klaus, organizing and planning for events around town. She wore bright dress of gold and reds; silvers and purples. They treated her like she was an elf. No one seemed to realize that while most kids would love to live off candy and sweet drinks, Marinette still needed blood to sustain her. And yeah, sometimes, she burned a little in the sun, okay, Rudolph?

And Marinette didn’t speak the demonic language most vampires did; that her mother’s family all did; this never failed to disappoint her grandmother, who would then send her mother accusing looks. She also didn’t know any elfish which meant she couldn’t communicate with her dad’s dad. She could understand it but that was it.

She was only fluent in apologizing for not being enough, for never having found time to learn. The only phrase she knew in both languages.

“Sorry, I don’t speak Enochian,” Marinette would apologize and watch the confusion on her on her cousins’ faces, the disappointment in her family’s eyes.

“Sorry, I don’t speak Elfish,” Marinette would apologize, and her grandfather would frown, and make some bad parenting comment along the lines of ‘This is what happens when you raise your child away from where they belong. Move her to the North Pole before it’s too late. We’ll fix her.’ Fix her as if she was broken; as if she wasn’t quite whole.

           Marinette opened her mouth and half her family wilts.

Marinette got the best of both worlds; it was true. She’d swear it… Most days. But after the Nightmare before Christmas incident, no one really dared to try to truly mix the holidays again. Sure, the people from both towns were social with each other and got along great, some even married, but that was where the line was drawn. The holidays didn’t interfere with each other.

So while Marinette got the best of both worlds; they remained separate outside of her home and the bakery.

It sucked. And no one but the other kids in similar predicaments as her understood.

Juleka, whose mother came from the land of Mardi Gras and whose father was a warlock from Halloween town, understood. Rose understood too; her father was a cupid and her mother came from the New Year’s City. The blond didn’t even know how to begin to explain that despite being so close to one another; the two holidays never mingled. In fact, they were so possessive of their own celebrations it was insane. (The last week of December to the day after Valentine’s Day was the most stressful time for Rose.)

           Even Chloe sort of understood, though both her parents came from the Christmas. Her mother was a Grinch who hated pretty much everything and her father had come from a long line of very important elves (or so Chloe put it.) Her mother was a worlds’ renowned fashion critic and her father was the mayor of Ville Des festivals. Her father loved Christmas. Her mother refused to celebrate it. It only worked out because Chloe’s mom was never around much.

           Even in Ville Des festivals, it was complicated. Most try to put her into a category to make it easier on themselves. Sure everyone was allowed to love each other’s holidays and to celebrate but to a point. No one expected an Easter bunny to go flying Santa’s sleigh, right?

           No one expected an elf to want to scare people. Or a vampire to be able to make snowflakes.

“Which side are you closer with?” They’d asked. “You know, who do you identify with?”

Marinette refused to answer. She wouldn’t allow them to erase half of herself. She didn’t want to choose sides of herself. Why did she have to choose a race?

It wasn’t like there was a dividing line, from her head to her toes, that said one side Christmas Magic and the other Halloween Terror.

That wasn’t the way it worked. She refused to let them wash away half her identity just because it’s the one they prefer.

And oh how the people in charge preferred to used her sweet nature, the rose color to her cheeks, and big blue eyes to try and write her off as an elf!

Elf-passing, is what some would say.

How could they ignore her fangs? The dark midnight blue of her hair? The slant of her eyes, that flashed red whenever she was angry?

Why was it so hard to understand that she was both?

Marinette Dupain-Cheng was elf and a vampire. It wasn’t like she was an Alien from outer space. Or a human.

She got to celebrate Halloween with her mom, her dad, and her mom’s family but never once has she celebrated Christmas with her mom’s family. Not in Halloween town; it just wasn’t done.

She got to celebrate Christmas with her dad, her mom, and her dads’ family but gods’ forbid someone bring up throwing a Halloween party. No one threw Halloween Parties in the North day. It was the North Pole, for Saint Nick’s sake.

           To Marinette, there were no better holidays than Halloween and Christmas. She just wished she could celebrate with her entire family.

           She wished people didn’t make stereotypical assumptions on vampires just because they watched a few movies, or read some books.  Marinette’s mom loved garlic. Holy water didn’t burn, thank you Chloe! Not every vampire knew Dracula or was descended from him. Though her grandma Gina, the elf, dated him back in the day so yeah, Marinette did know him but that wasn’t the point. And no, vampires didn’t used to only drink from the blood of virgin, what the hell Kim? (And Marinette wished for nothing more than to curse Stephanie Meyer out for the epidemic she unleashed. Vampires were always overly sexualized before… But DAMN! Juleka swore it was the equivalent of what happened to witches and warlocks during the Harry Potter Craze.)

           She wished people didn’t assume all elves were sweet and nice and were toy makers. Her uncle was a dentist, thank you very much! And her grandpa could give any Grinch a run for their money.

           Honestly, Marinette loved her life, her family, being mixed; coming from two very different worlds. It was just that sometimes it was hard. Sometimes she didn’t feel like a very good elf. Sometimes she was a terrible vampire. Sometimes she just didn’t feel like enough for either. Sometimes she felt like she never got enough of either.

           Or as a human named Julian Randall put in his poem called ‘6 Biracial Metaphors.’ In it, he said, “Knowing that Sometimes being biracial is to have two half-filled glasses and die of thirst anyway.”

           Sometimes, Marinette hummed Christmas songs under breath during October. Sometimes, she really wanted to watch Horror Flicks during December.

           She just wished people made her feel like it was okay when she did. Or that it didn’t feel weird when she did.

           Because it wasn’t weird. It was who she was.

All of who she was.

Marinette was poison wrapped in a pretty bow.

Marinette was a sweet kiss under the mistletoe that sent you straight to hell.

Marinette was a daydream and the worst fears come to reality.

Marinette was the Nightmare before Christmas.

[mostlycompetentwriter]

“Drive-In”: A Domesticated Drabble

F/M Pairing: Y/N x Bang Chan (Stray Kids)

Word Count: 2,542

Genre: Married AU; Prequel

Warnings: Smut and Language

Summary: Y/N isn’t the greatest when it comes to relationships which is why she intends to make her first year with Chan something to remember.

“Can I help you, ma’am?”

I was startled by the sudden presence of the shop worker, glancing away from the cake display with full alertness. “I was just looking.”

“Are you celebrating?” she asked. “We can do customization work.”

“Really? It’s for an anniversary.”

“Oh, how sweet,” she cooed, clapping her hands together like she was the one who had hitched herself to a medical student. 

“Yeah, I guess,” I shrugged. In reality, I wasn’t used to this kind of thing considering the fact that my relationships usually never lasted more than a few months. “We’ve been together for a year.”

“Well, that’s a long time,” the worker informed me. “No wonder you’re trying to make it special.”

“That’s the plan,” I joked, even if I was feeling completely out of my comfort zone. Special occasions were often reserved for Chan because he was the romantic one in our relationship. He was the one who was counting, making a big deal out of every little milestone: “Happy two months, Y/N!” or “It’s been six months now, Y/N.” 

I did my best to reciprocate his enthusiasm, going along with whatever plans he happened to be making. For our two month anniversary, I gave him a blow job in the restroom of the movie theatre. And after we got home from dinner to celebrate six months, Chan and I had sex for the very first time in his apartment, throwing Jisung out because Chan’s roommate was incredibly nosy and I was half-way convinced that he got off to the sounds of our fucking. 

“The cakes are baked fresh every day!” the shop worker continued, doing her best to convince me to spend 20 dollars on a fine mixture of sugar, flour, and icing. 

“Give me your biggest one.”

“Sweetie, you didn’t have to,” Chan insisted after I offered him the expensive pastry.

“Happy anniversary or whatever,” I said in return, resisting the urge to show him the receipt from the cake shop because I was half-convinced that they had overcharged me. 

Chan pulled me in closer by my hips, hands enveloping my waist as he kissed me softly. “I have something special for you tonight.”

“A fancy bottle of wine and my face in the mattress?”

“Y/N,” Chan scolded me gently. “We’re going out.”

I was still unconvinced, reaching down to palm his cock over the jeans he was wearing. “Are you sure, Channie? I’ll even ride you if you want.”

“We have plans,” Chan insisted while reaching for my wandering hand. “Go get dressed.”

“Is Jisung here with his latest plaything or something?” I snickered. “You’re awfully persistent.”

“Because I have a surprise,” Chan said, pointing in the direction of his bedroom. “You better hurry, sweetie, we’re leaving in thirty minutes.”

“Well, then you better appreciate a half-assed attempt to look nice,” I told him. “I’m talking Aerospostale instead of Armani.”

“You’ll probably look sexy regardless.”

“Channie, you always know how to stroke my ego.”

Chan must have gotten dating advice from his parents. That’s the only suitable explanation for the nearly vacant drive-in movie Chan was currently paying an entire week’s worth of tips for two tickets. “Chan,” I said, glancing around nervously. “Is this the part where you tell me that you’re a serial killer?”

Chan pulled up to the front of the lot, parking next to one of the rusty speakers twisted into the ground. “Isn’t it great?”

“I guess,” I said, craning my neck to take in the giant screen. “This is revenge for Minho’s frat party, right?”

“I think it’s amazing,” Chan said. “You want anything from the concession stand? My treat, of course, sweetie.”

“You go knock yourself out,” I said. “I’ll just stay here with my phone in case I need to urgently dial the emergency number. How fast do you think the police can get here?”

“Don’t be overdramatic,” Chan said, wrenching open the door to his faded Mustang. “I’ll be right back.”

I shivered, crossing my arms as I slowly counted the number of cars surrounding us: a grand total of four. There were only four other cars here in a run-down gravel lot in the middle of the woods. This was something out of a horror film, a new nightmare directed by Wes Craven. At any moment, I totally expected Jason Vorhees to run out of those trees waving around his machete and, no matter how big Chan had gotten over the summer, I doubted he could take down an immortal monster. “Keep it together, Y/N,” I murmured. “This isn’t the dumbest thing he’s ever done.”

I was pretty sure nothing could ever top our impromptu beach trip for spring break when Chan somehow booked us a room in the basement of someone’s beach house. Concrete floors and walls, exposed pipes and insulation, Chan and I shared a tiny twin bed with eyes wide open as we listened to the scariest noises emanating from the giant furnace. Needless to say, Chan found us another room at the Motel 6, ditching the creepy couple who told us that they couldn’t give a refund.

“Popcorn!” 

I nearly screamed at the sound of Chan’s returning voice, rolling my eyes when he shoved the box at me from across the console. “You scared the shit out of me!”

“What are you so worried about, Y/N?” Chan asked as he shut the door. “The movie starts soon.”

“Great,” I said. “Would it be entirely rude to ask what the hell you paid for us to see?”

Chan shrugged while taking a giant bite of his pretzel. “It’s an older movie, but I hear it’s one of their most popular.”

“Well, if it gives me a couple of strokes, then your ass can drive us to the hospital.”

“It’s not scary,” Chan argued, leaning his seat back to accommodate his view. “I think you’ll like it if you give it a chance.”

“But the very first time I see a fucking ghost or something...”

“There aren’t any ghosts,” Chan said. “Unless we’re talking about the movie with Demi Moore and Patrick Swayze.”

“You cry like a little bitch every time.”

“They deserved to be together!”

“Shhh,” I silenced him quietly, moving up in my seat. “Your fifties flick is about to play! Maybe I’ll get lucky and see a nice ass or something.”

“How crude,” Chan remarked, grumpily wiping his greasy hands against his jeans.

“It’s starting!” I cheered, propping my elbow against the console. “Are you excited?”

Chan glared at me as the credits rolled across the screen. “See if I do anything nice for you again, Y/N.”

“I’m trying to appreciate this gesture of love,” I said, pointing at the two characters on screen. “Do you think they’ve ever been to a drive-in movie?”

“Are you gonna talk the entire time?”

“You don’t like my commentary?”

“Unless it’s the director's cut, then no.”

“Channie,” I feigned hurt. “You’ve broken my delicate sensibilities. Wherever will I regain my confidence?”

“You have plenty of that, Y/N,” Chan said.

I looked away from the movie screen, admiring the sharp profile of his jawline. “Have you ever noticed how remarkably gorgeous you are these days?”

“Flattery will get you nowhere.”

“That’s a shame because I was hoping to get inside your pants.”

“Watch the movie!”

I grew silent, moving back to my side of the car while sneaking my phone from my side pocket, scrolling through my messages with the screen brightness on low. There were several messages from Minho which I temporarily ignored in favor of the unexpected appearance of Han Jisung’s name. He only ever reached out to me when he was either in desperate need of help or because he heard an inappropriate joke and thought I should know about it as well.

From Jisung

Where does Chan keep his condoms?

I rolled my eyes, deleting the message before tapping on Minho’s contact name.

From Minho

Was Chan’s surprise everything you hoped and dreamed for?

To Minho

He took me to a drive-in theatre

From Minho

If I see your name in the obituary, I’ll let the police see this message.

To Minho

You’re becoming less supportive with each passing day

From Minho

That’s because you just interrupted my hook-up! She fled the moment she saw your name.

To Minho

Then she wasn’t good enough for you. I probably just saved you from months of clingy girlfriend syndrome.

I waited for Minho’s response before an exaggerated moan from on-screen abruptly captured my attention. I looked back at the screen, mouth dropping open as I realized the two main protagonists had progressed considerably in their relationship. “Channie, you didn’t tell me there was porn in this,” I gasped, smirking at the sight of my flustered boyfriend. “Aw, your ears are red.”

“Shut it,” Chan growled. 

“Was this not what you expected?” I asked him, reaching out to trace the outer shell of his ear.

“They did say it had an R rating,” Chan admitted, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

I drew my hand away from his ear, running my fingers down his arm and waist until I found the front of his jeans. “We could have watched porn at home.”

“W-what are you doing?” Chan asked, eyes frantic as they surveyed our surroundings.

“Nobody’s watching,” I said as I tightened my hand around his cock, enjoying his accompanying moan. “Have you ever had sex in the car before?”

“In my Mustang?” Chan gasped, eyes now shut tightly together as he tossed his head back against the headrest. “These are leather seats.”

“And?”

“I don’t want semen on my leather seats,” Chan complained.

“Relax, Channie,” I reassured him, working my way across the console to sit directly on his lap. “I’ll let you cum inside so it stays in me instead.”

Chan’s mouth fell open at my promise. “I don’t have a condom.”

“Well, good thing I do,” I smirked, reaching into my pocket. “I’m on birth control anyway.”

“Since when?”

“I can’t tell you that,” I said, waving the silver packet in his face. “You’ll get all jealous.”

Chan frowned, eyes narrowed. “Changbin?”

I nodded once. “I thought it was better to play it safe.”

“How fortunate for him,” Chan glowered. 

“I told you not to assume anything,” I said, reaching down to unbutton his jeans. “Now you’re all worked up.”

“Yeah? Talking about your ex-boyfriend does that to me,” Chan said, hissing between clenched teeth when I held his cock in my hand. 

“You don’t see me drooling over his dick, do you?” I asked him, stroking once, twice before ripping open the condom. “Do me a favor, Chan, and be a good boy while I fuck you.”

“What about the movie?” Chan asked breathlessly, watching through half-lidded eyes as I worked the condom down his erection. 

“You mean the porno?” I snickered. “I’ll give you a live sex show instead, how does that sound?”

Chan answer came in the form of a heavy groan as I took him deep inside, shoving my panties to the side to accommodate our coupling. I twisted my skirt up higher around my hips to make sure it was out of the way, allowing us both an intimate view of where his cock disappeared. “Shit, Y/N,” Chan panted. “Are you a voyeur now?”

“Like those couples aren’t doing the same thing,” I said, grabbing tightly to his shoulders for balance. “Now, just relax while your girlfriend makes you feel good, hmmm?”

“Okay,” Chan managed breathlessly while his hands shot out to grab my waist. “Make it fast though.”

“Like anyone will stop us,” I said, sighing happily as I pressed a gentle kiss to his pulse point, tongue tasting the skin of his throat. “But, if you’re interested in testing me, I could probably make you cum in five minutes. Remember the first time you let me touch your cock?”

Chan winced at my words, probably recalling to mind the unfortunate way he had been unable to hold himself together, cumming from just a simple handjob on his bed. “You’ll never let me forget that, will you?”

“Don’t worry, you last a lot longer now,” I said, grinning triumphantly when his moans started to grow louder, circling my hips to grind against his pulsing cock. “I think I’ve thoroughly corrupted you.”

“Yeah?” Chan sighed, leaning forward to kiss me with bated breath, hands now groping the front of my chest while his tongue smoothed against mine. 

I pulled away to relieve my aching lungs, allowing Chan open access to my neck while my head was tilted back against the steering wheel. “You wanted it just as much as I did,” I commented, tangling my hands in his messy curls to hold him in place. My thighs were now straining from my movements, the burn aching pleasantly like the time Chan had tried to teach me how to swim in the campus pool, keeping one hand under my stomach while he encouraged me to kick out my legs.

“You were going to get fucked one way or another,” Chan said, letting out a deep rumble as he occasionally rutted up when my hips would fall against his, skin bruising with every seductive sound. 

“But at least I got your cock instead of my fingers,” I said, rolling my hips faster as I started to chase my own orgasm. “You wouldn’t believe the difference.”

“I might,” he said. “It works both ways.”

I fought every urge to just stop my movements and let Chan fuck me however he wanted, reaching for one of his hands to guide his long fingers down between us. “Please, Channie,” I whined loudly, an unfortunate result of my increasing desperation with every deep fill of his cock against my tight walls.

His thumb pressed down on my throbbing organ, kisses growing messier as we both started to chase our highs, teetering precariously on the precipice between pleasure and rationality because fucking in the car was certainly not high on my list of most responsible moments. “Are you close?” he asked. “Because I might die if I don’t cum soon.”

“Don’t die,” I whispered, scratching my nails down his chest through the fabric of his shirt. “Just a little longer.”

Chan grunted, forehead slipping against mine now that we were both covered with sweat. I opened my eyes just enough to realize that we had successfully fogged up all the windows like that giant innuendo of a scene in Titanic. “Fuck, Y/N,” Chan groaned, kissing me again with too many teeth.

“Chan,” I swallowed around a moan, legs trembling with a cloying mixture of exertion and the anticipation of a satisfying orgasm. Chan wasn’t far behind, grabbing my thighs with clenched fingers as he jerked his hips up to fill the condom with a thunderous groan.

I held onto him, his face buried against my chest as we both struggled to regain our breath. “I’ll fuck you better when we get back,” Chan promised, and I had never heard anything sexier in my entire life.

“Happy anniversary.”

“I love you, Y/N,” Chan murmured against my skin.

“Yeah? Well, I love you more.”

“Impossible.”

“I guess we’ll see about that.”

[chocochar]

ᴄʜᴀɪɴᴇᴅ | ᴅᴇᴍᴏɴ!ᴅᴀʙɪ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | Part 1

Part 2 | Part 3: TBA

(AN: Okay so this kinda came to me after seeing some demon Dabi art, this could be a series or just a two shot, so if you like it comment which you’d prefer:

A full blown fic, or a two shot? Hope you enjoy!)

Warnings: Mild blood, swearing

        She knew it was a bad idea going through with this. 

        Proving oneself as brave just to appease those who she doesn't even belong with.

        She knew, but she still went through with it.

        (F/n) stares into the darkness surrounding her and her classmates. 

        All on a 3 day field trip to the mountains the 2 college classes, mixed with freshman, juniors, and seniors, that came as well as the 3 teachers had set up their tents on the large campground. Night had fallen, they'd all had dinner and set up a fire, and most had gone to bed a good hour and a half ago. 

        Including (F/n).

        She was woken up by a few of her classmates who pulled her out of the comfort of her sleeping bag, air mattress and tent into the cold of night and darkness only being lit up by the remaining flames licking from the fire pit. A few students are still up as well as an assistant, all watching the fire and telling stories. 

        The group sneak around to make sure the others don't hear.

        "Why did you guys wake me up?" (F/n) asks annoyed. Her eyes are still tired but she's more alert as they embark into the shadows. The only light being that of phone flashlights the other students turn on once they're out of sight.

        "We're gonna have a bravery test, and your our friend right?" Hizaki grins at her, being the ring leader of this group and also a regular tormentor of (F/n)'s.

        She's uncomfortable. They know they could all get in trouble, but they still keep walking. She doesn't like this group. If she stays they could all die, her included. She wants to leave, but they may not even let her leave.

        "A bravery test?"

        "Yeah, it's almost 1 AM, didn't you hear about that one legend about these woods?" Nanikari asks, looking at the confused freshman.

        "A 1 AM legend…" (F/n) wracks her sleep deprived brain for a clue, but nothing. "No, I can't say I have. But we should get back-"

        "Apparently," Nanikari cuts her off,"If you enter the forest at 1 AM and wait, you'll encounter the ones who roam and control this place: hellhounds. Supposedly there are different types, but the one everyone sees most is possibly the scariest." 

        (F/n)'s brow arches, skeptical but also a little intrigued. Legends aren't real. But it's interesting.

        "I see… But really, guys, we should be getting back," she cuts them off before they can continue. "What if they realize we're gone and we get in trouble?"

        "Stop being such a pussy," Hizaki bites out, (F/n) shutting her mouth. "Are you just gonna whine this whole time?"

        "Anyways, the hell hound I'd like to see is the one with 'blue flames'," Nanikari continues. "His fur is missing in some spots and where it is is covered in gross, burnt looking skin. Blue flames or smoke come out of his mouth, even when it’s closed, his fangs stick out of the lips, but the one thing that always stops people in their tracks…” The man gets a look on his face and says in a ‘spooky’ tone,”His eyessss.”

        “His… Eyes?” Yuki asks, the freshman looking like she was dragged along too, although she’s speaking up a lot less than (F/n) is.

        “Mhm, apparently they’re a bright blue, and the moment your eyes meet he has you, you’ll never escape, he’ll feed off your soul-!”

        “RAWR!” A senior yells, suddenly coming out of the bushes. Yuki and another freshman scream while (F/n) looks shocked, almost joining them but keeping her mouth shut. The boys all laugh before looking at their kouhais, Hizaki grinning and crossing his arms while they stop. They’re far from the camp, (F/n) starting to feel more and more nerve wracked by the second, and the senior who lunged out at them check his phone, saying,”It’s 12:50 AM, almost time freshmeat.~”

        “What exactly do you guys have planned here?” one of the freshman asks. They look as scared as (F/n) feels, even Nanikari appears a little on edge.

        “As said before we’re gonna be doin’ a bravery test. Why are we out doin’ it here? Simple,” Hizaki points out into the darkness and continues,”All you 3 gotta do is walk out until we can’t see you and you can’t see us, and stay out there for…”

        “20 minutes!” his meathead friend pipes in. Hizaki grins, agreeing with this, and holding up 2 fingers he replies,”Yep, 20 minutes. You can use your flashlights until you reach a spot, then you have to turn them off and wait. Not saying they’re real, but if a hellhound just happens to show up make sure to record it, got it? That way you have proof and just aren’t some pussies running away from the challenge.”

        “20 minutes?? Did you forget it’s cold out here, plus there’s more to worry about than some fake monsters?” (F/n) asks incredulously, arms held against her. Even with her coat and boots on it’s freezing. Plus she’d love to go back to bed.

        “So you’re wussing out?” The ring leader asks, (F/n) swallowing when he looks at her. Hizaki still lives in his high school fantasy of being top dog at school, and unfortunately he has the money and looks to make people follow him. The (brunette, blonde, etc) has seen first hand what happens when he’s crossed or someone doesn’t listen. 

            “... Fine, I’ll take your challenge,” she answers after moments of silence. Turning she starts walking the way he told them to go, looking back at the other freshmen as they reluctantly follow.

        The winds pick up as they venture into the black. Their lights luckily lead them through the dark but as they keep walking there’s a visible change; the darkness seems to be getting thicker the further they go, and a mist seems to pick up that was not there before. The other two are starting to shake while (F/n) can feel her heart pounding in fear. Something isn’t right, but she doesn’t want to vocalize this.

        “Can you guys still see them?” She asks, the other two glancing back. It’s like they haven’t even gone that far, the seniors still somewhat visible, despite it feeling like they’ve been walking a lot more than they have. 

        “Yeah, I can,” one speaks up, (F/n) cursing under her breath and continuing to walk. The moment they can’t see them she’ll lead the way back to camp, forget this stupid game. They’re all just risking getting sick or worse out here! 

        The fog is getting worse, although in an odd way it is starting to appear like smoke. The air is also getting thicker with their fear starting to fill to the brim. And (F/n) smells something: a fire. Is someone burning something nearby?! The air is hotter as well with sweat starting to coat their skin, none of them no longer freezing cold but instead it feels like a fire is licking at their skin.

        “I’m feeling really hot, what’s going on?” Yuki asks, starting to panic while wiping beads from her forehead.

        “I don’t see anything, though, this smoke is so thick!” the other freshman complains, coughing. (F/n) has this uneasy feeling like they’re being watched. Are those jerks back there playing some sort of prank?? But looking back she doesn’t see or hear them, in fact it’s still dead quiet… “W-We should go back-”

        “O-oh my god…” Yuki mumbles with a tremble in her voice up ahead, the two looking at her confused. She walked further when she saw something, and following her gaze (F/n) can feel her whole body freeze and grow cold suddenly while her (eye color) orbs widen.

        Ahead of them is what looks like the figure of a very large dog; it’s limbs are thin but it’s paws huge with talon like claws. It’s fur along its back looks messy and black as night with tufts of it on its head sticking up with some laying over its eyes and snout. The rest of the fur that it still has on it's body is short and a light gray. As it approaches the bright blue eyes glowing in the smoke are hypnotizing and as it gets closer to where they can now see it more clearly (F/n) can make out the smoke billowing from it’s bared teeth. The most notable things about it, though, are the burn scars along its body as well as the… Staples?, a pair of horns sit poking straight up atop it's head, and shackles are clamped to each leg, chains dragging from each that have blue flames burning at the ends.

        "I-is that… The hell-hell hound they w-w-were talking about…?" The other freshman asks shaking. (F/n) doesn't respond, too busy trying to not panic even though every fiber in her being is telling her to scream. 

        "O-Oh my god…" Yuki repeats, her voice giving away she's tearing up right now.

        The beast growls and as it's mouth opens azure flames start to spill out, it's eyes locked on them, especially Yuki. They're dead. It's going to kill and eat them, and no one will know what happened… It starts approaching Yuki, (F/n) almost hearing whispers of an unknown language as it gets closer, the sound clearly coming from the dog. And she sees it, the hound ready to pounce as it unleashes a howl that knocks them out of their frozen states.

        Yuki screams when it charges her, (F/n) gasping and thinking quickly and in a panic she grabs a nearby rock and chucks it at the monster's head. It smacks into its snout, being big enough to catch the hound off guard as it stops and shakes its head.

        "Run!!" (F/n) shouts, pulling Yuki's arm and starting to run away. The beast howls again before immediately rushing after them. 

        When (F/n) looks back though it's gone; she's worried immediately, but doesn't stop running for her life, the other two doing the same with their hearts all pounding. But over her own beating organ the (brunette, blonde, etc) can make out another pounding. The sound of something else running with it's own feet hitting the ground in a chase. The air is still thick with smoke and hot, a clear sign the thing is closeby, and looking ahead the young woman almost doesn't see the seniors looking confused ahead of them, nearly slamming into Hizaki.

        "What the fuck?! What's got you all so freaked out?!"

        "Yeah, and what's going on?" Nanikari questions, the trio looking around.

        "No time to explain, we have to go!!" Yuki cries out, trying to escape the third senior's hold on her. 

        "What, you guys didn't-"

        "Forget the fucking bravery test, we need to-" the other freshman is cut off by a piercing bowl and the rush of something coming straight for them. Without any warning Hizaki is knocked down from behind and they all scream and back up as the beast pins him and bites down on the crook between his neck and shoulder. Blood is seen, and the bully is crying out in pain, the others either unable to move as they watch in horror or running off screaming. It lets him go but then bites deep into his leg and starts to yank him into the forest, the boy clawing at the ground weakly and begging them for help.

        The monster stops when it's hit by yet another rock and it's cerulean gaze lifts to land on (F/n); she looks terrified with another stone in hand, not knowing what is pushing her to react, but shouting,"Let him go, you mutt!" she throws the other rock at the hound. Managing to hit it right in the eye it whimpers and backs up letting Hizaki go as he limply lays there. (F/n) takes in the immediate danger she's put herself in. If she gets out of this alive Hizaki better turn over a new leaf or something. The hound looks at her with the one eye uninjured and growls, it's target being the woman now.

        "Nanikari, grab him!" She yells at the other senior before taking off. 

        She'll have to try to lose it in the woods, or get back to camp and tell the teachers to get everyone back to the buses and cars!! But where was camp again?!

        The sound of paws hitting the dirt not far behind her keeps her adrenaline high as her legs seem to keep going even as they ache. She takes turn after turn, loop after loop, even ducking under logs it's too big to go under. Over the sound of it's paws and her heart she can hear the cracking of fire, despite there not being any from what she can see. Whispers hide amongst the sound of flames, still unable to make out what they're speaking, but nearly slamming into a tree she ignores them. They must be there to distract her.

        When she's sure she's lost it at least for now she ducks behind a large tree and hides, her hand covering her mouth and nose tight. Her heart is thundering, when she hears it's footsteps crunching on the forest floor she tries to listen out for how close they are.

        It's sniffing around, growling when it can't seem to locate her. So its nose must not be top notch, good to know. Peeking out she watches it look around further from her before leaving the area in the opposite direction she's going. 

        Once it's out of sight she sneaks off, moving faster and faster until she's still managing to run; her legs scream but she keeps going.

        Fortunately she sees Nanikari and the other senior looking for her along with a few other students, and panting she waves when one shouts,"There, I see her!!" They all start to run over.

        She smiles exhaustedly, starting to say,"Okay, I think he's gone, we need to leave tho-"

        The relief is short lived as she gasps in sudden pain when teeth bite into her calf and she falls down onto her stomach hitting the ground with a sudden thud. Now on her front she looks back in terror and shock, (eye color) eyes meeting that hauntingly fascinating blue as the hound starts to pull her away. She claws at the dirt, reaching for the others. 

        "No, help, please!!" She cries out with tears brimming in her eyes.

        But nothing, no one helps her. They stand and stare too terrified to move a muscle. Even as their classmate is pulled into the darkness they don't even speak up, and (F/n)'s eyes widen. They're leaving her to die…

        She attempts a kick at the hound but her leg won't move, stiff and in too much pain to try to free herself. She peers back at her captor, her eyes once more meeting the beast's; the whispers fill her head again only this time they're more clear and without any control her consciousness fades until her head drops, the last thing she remembers being that of the hound letting her leg go suddenly as it manages to maneuver her onto its back.

[caws5749]

Ch 1: your first day

nat x young reader. avengers x reader. Part of the Your Red-Headed Mentor series.

Prequel

Ch 2

You and her were locked in an intense gaze for another second, before she kicked into action. You watched as a few more people followed her into the room. You recognized them too. Captain America, Scarlet Witch, and Hawkeye. You saw the other girls in your class, some of them your friends, fleeing out the door or through the secret doors in the wall. Within two minutes, the room was cleared. The Avengers had started attacking other parts of the building, you supposed. You still hadn’t moved. You probably should, but you were trying to wrap your head around what happened. And for some reason, you didn’t feel threatened that they were here. 

The building got quiet and you were still standing on the treadmill. You didn’t really have anywhere to go or anything to do. You sat down, and a moment later saw the Avengers walking past the broken down door. They must be on their way out, you thought. A moment later,  the Black Widow walked back into the room. She gazed curiously at you. 

“Hey, I’m Natasha,” she greeted. You nodded.

“I know. I’m Y/N,” you responded. 

“Let me help you, Y/N. Do you want to come with us?” she questioned. You thought about it for a moment. You didn’t have anywhere else to go. You nodded slowly, and she gave a small smile at your agreeing. 

“Come on, I’ll introduce you to the rest of the team.” You followed her out the doors of the building. It was weird to be outside. You didn’t really get to do that often. Natasha knew that, and her lips quirked slightly upwards at the slight awe on your face. She led you to a big jet, which was called the Quinjet.

You followed her onto the jet, and met each of the Avengers. They looked at you cautiously. You were new and a trained killer, and were supposedly an emotionless one. After meeting each of them, you decided that you liked Clint a lot, he had already made some small joke that brought a smile to your lips. Steve seemed calm and trustworthy, and you liked him too. Tony made you skeptical, and Bruce hardly said anything. You were told that Thor would be back at the compound later in the week, and you could meet him then. 

That made you pause. So they were going to let you stay for a little bit. It made you a little bit nervous. You saw Natasha sit down in a seat, and you sat down near her. 

“It’s going to be okay,” Natasha spoke to you quietly. She could tell you were nervous. You nodded, not willing to show too much emotion. You sat in silence for the remainder of the trip, and listened to the Avengers joking around with each other. They didn’t discuss the fact that they had just destroyed the Red Room- they wouldn’t in your presence. 

“Landing,” Clint called out. You became even more nervous. You had no idea where you were, or where you would be staying. You forced yourself to shove your worries down, and focus on staying alert, in case you needed to get away. 

You followed Natasha when she stood up, and you were met with the site of the compound, as they called it. It was really really big. You heard her chuckle as you stared at it. You followed her inside the large doors, and up the stairs. 

“I’ll show you to a free room. It’s just down the hall from mine, and right next to Wanda’s,” she said. You nodded and followed her to the room. It was spacious and comfy, but bare. You didn’t really have anything to set down.

“We’re going to have to go shopping, but some of Wanda’s things might fit you for now,” she stated thoughtfully. “I’ll give you a tour so that way you know where everything is.” 

She began the tour, stopping first to point out the door to her room. She then continued down the hallway, before leading you down a different hallway that lead to the kitchen and adjoining living room. It was a big open space that had multiple rooms in it. You liked it. It was modern and classy. She pointed everything out to you, and then told you about the food. 

“Do you know what you like?” she questioned, already knowing the answer. You shook your head. It’s not like you got a choice in the Red Room. She nodded, knowingly. 

“You can try a bunch of stuff and then let me or FRIDAY know what you like. Oh! FRIDAY?” she called. The AI responded, making you twitch. She explained FRIDAY to you, and you nodded. 

She then moved on to the gym. Your eyes lit up upon seeing it. This was comfort to you. Training was something you knew how to do, and this gym was the greatest training facility you could imagine. She chuckled. 

“Feel free to come workout anytime,” she said. “Maybe once you get comfortable we could spar,” she suggested casually. You gave her another nod. She led you back upstairs and told you that the team was going to be eating dinner soon. You both sat at the counter, her drinking a beer and you drinking something she called a shirley temple. It was good and sweet. 

“The chef is making a lot of different things, so you can try a lot,” she said to you. 

“I’m looking forward to trying everything,” you responded. You felt a little more comfortable with her now. It had only been a few hours, but you almost trusted her, not that you would ever trust someone fully. You had been trained to never trust anyone, but you were beginning to wonder if that was wrong. You saw how Natasha acted with the other Avengers. You were beginning to think that she trusted them, like fully trusted them. 

“We’re having a movie night later. You should join us,” she said with a soft smile. 

“What movie are you watching?” you asked.

“I’m not sure, I know it’s Wanda’s turn to pick. She usually picks a comedy, especially since Clint picks before her, and always chooses the scariest horror movie he can find,” she gave a small laugh. You found yourself letting out a laugh too. 

“Heyyy black widows,” Tony greeted. You tensed immediately, and you weren’t sure why. You were a black widow, though you technically hadn’t graduated, but only because you weren’t 18 yet. It was who you were, shouldn’t you be proud? Your thoughts were interrupted when you saw Natasha shoot him a glare. She’s looking out for me. Yeah, you liked her. 

“Sorry,” he muttered to you. You didn’t even acknowledge his apology because you honestly weren’t sure why he was apologizing. He was technically correct. 

“Who’s hungry?” Clint asked enthusiastically as he entered the kitchen, effectively decreasing the tension in the room. 

“What’s on the menu?” Natasha asked Tony. He shrugged. 

“I’m not sure, I just told the chef to do a bunch of things.” 

“Excuse me,” FRIDAY chimed in. “Dinner is nearly ready. I suggest you all head to the dining room.” 

“Where is the chef?” you questioned. You had been sitting in the kitchen, but the chef clearly wasn’t there. 

“Oh, he’s downstairs in the other kitchen. This floor is more just for us who live here,” Tony responded. Wow, there’s more than one kitchen, you thought.

You followed everyone down to the dining room, where Wanda, Vision, and Steve were already sitting and talking. You sat down and listened as they all started talking about the movie picks for tonight. The chef came in and started telling everyone about each dish he brought in. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Bruce muttered as he ran in. “I was in the lab.” The chef continued until there were twelve separate dishes scattered around the table. You gazed at all of them, suddenly starving. Everyone was given the okay to start digging in, though you weren’t sure where to start. Natasha, sitting next to you, offered her help. She asked about each dish, and if you wanted to try it, she would scoop a small amount onto your plate. By the end, you had an entire plateful, and you started eating. 

Everything was so good. You couldn’t remember ever having eating this much in your life. 

“Save room for dessert,” she chuckled. You looked at her in amazement, making her laugh. She couldn’t help it as she offered you a sad smile. She knew you didn't get that in the Red Room. 

“So, Y/N,” Clint pondered. “Who’s the strongest Avenger?” You smirked, before acting like you were thinking it through. You knew exactly who the strongest Avenger was. 

“Natasha,” you responded. She glowed, looking at you. She then turned to her fellow Avengers, looking smug. Clint and Tony actually pouted. 

“Not fair, you’re just saying that because you guys get along well,” Clint whined.  Everyone let out some laughs, before going back to the movie topic. The movie still hadn’t been picked. You listened to the conversation, even chiming in every so often. 

Everyone ate dessert, commenting the entire time on how good it was. Wanda finally picked a movie, and everyone brought their plates to the sink before heading to the living room. Steve passed out blankets to everyone, and you settled into the couch beside Natasha. You enjoyed the movie, and so did everyone else, judging by the laughter filling the room. It ended, and everyone got up. Steve went to put his blanket away, and everyone decided to chuck their blankets with all their strength at him. He glared at all of them jokingly, and you moved to get up and help him put them away. 

“Thanks Y/N,” he smiled. You talked with Natasha and Wanda on the way back to your rooms. 

“Do you need some clothes for tonight? Let me get you some,” Wanda said. You all entered her room. It was really nicely decorated, and you told her so. She thanked you warmly and brought some clothes out. You picked some, and she handed them to you and Natasha. You both bid her goodnight and walked down the hall to your guest room. Natasha helped you put the clothes away, before gazing at you, eyes sparkling. 

“Alright?” she asked, before she went to leave. You nodded and offered her a smile. She looked like she needed verbal confirmation. 

“I’m alright Natasha,” you said. She seemed satisfied. 

“Goodnight Y/N. See you in the morning. You can train in the morning or just head to the kitchen and eat if you want.” 

“Sounds good. Goodnight. Thank you,” you added, hoping she would catch the sincerity in your voice. She gave you a soft smile, before heading out and closing the door. You washed up in the bathroom and changed into Wanda’s pajamas, before collapsing into bed. 

I think I am going to like this place. 

Natasha didn’t head to her room. She headed to the bar downstairs for a drink. She needed it after this day; a lot had happened, and suddenly there was someone else staying in the compound. Someone she really liked, and someone she wanted to help. 

Steve joined her. 

“You alright?” he asked. She nodded. 

“Just... pensive I suppose,” she responded. 

“About Y/N?” When she didn’t respond, he continued. “You’ve taken a liking to her. You’re really good with her. She already looks up to you and she’s only known you for one day.”

“She reminds me so much of me at that age,” Natasha admitted. “I just want to help her. I know it’s too early to tell, but I think she might be a good addition to the team.” Steve nodded thoughtfully. 

“Well, we’ll see. Tomorrow she’ll start training, and we can see her abilities,” Steve said. Natasha nodded, before wishing him goodnight and heading to her room. 

[lovemesomesurveys]

[found at: --rainboweyes--]

When was the last time you did clay work/pottery? I’ve never done that. 

Do you like art, hate it or just not mind it?  I’m not artistic or creative myself, but I enjoy art.

If you had to choose would you prefer dull pain for 12 hours or sharp for 2?  I have chronic pain, sooo.

Koala or Kangaroo?  I’ll go with koalas.  Do you know the words to the national anthem of your country? Yeah.

Is your country ruled by a president, prime minister, queen or other? We have presidents.

Does blue occur in your national flag?  Yep.

Talking of flags. Do you like football/soccer?  I don’t care for sports in general. <<<

If yes, do you play and what position? If not, leave blank.

Would you rather be a Model, Famous Scientist, Singer or Chef? Out of those I’d say singer. I can’t sing, but in this scenario pretend I can.

Would you rather be a pilot, crime scene investigator or estate agent? Crime stuff interests me from a psychology aspect, but I wouldn’t want to be a crime scene investigator, but also I don’t have any interest at all in the other 2 options, sooo.

Does making others happy really make you feel happy?  It’s a good feeling. I don’t feel I make others happy, though. 

What color literally doesn't appear in your wardrobe at all? Brown.

Do you actually read the answers others give to your surveys [I do]?  I keep up with several of you through your surveys.

Did you ever swear at a teacher in school? Why? No.

Have you ever pricked your finger on Holly or another 'sharp' plant? No.

Speaking of Holly, do you adore Christmas or does it bug you?  I absolutely love Christmas.

Have you ever wrote your own short story? Yeah. I used to write short stories all the time when I was like 12/13.

What about a novel? Or perhaps you started and couldn't finish? No.

Either of the above, if this was the case, place short synopsis here: I wrote several.

Do you prefer SciFi/Fantasy/Action/Horror or Rom/Com/RealLife? Are we still talking about books? For the past couple years I’ve read a shit ton of murder mystery/psychological thrillers. I’ve been really into those. I like YA/NA as well.

What do you have a lot of faith in [note: can be anything]?  God.

Think of a material thing you want. Name it here (material, made or bought] I just ordered the book for my next Bible study, a set of nice journaling pens, a new notebook, and white-out tape.

Would $100/$60 be enough for this item? It would.

How about $1000/$600?  Uh, yeah. I’d have a shit ton of money leftover.

Would you rather have a big house, a lot of kids or a high flying job? A big house. It doesn’t have to be mansion big, just big enough to comfortably fit 4 adults and a doggo.

Have you ever been to a creepy/haunted/abandoned place? No, but I watch a lot of videos about abandoned places on YouTube. I find stuff like that really interesting.

What did it look like and what were the circumstances? This one channel I watch, BrightSunFilms, has found actual abandoned homes that still have all the stuff in there but no one has lived in in like a decade. It’s wild. They found home videos in one! Like that just boggles my mind. I need to know what happened. What’s the story? Why did they just leave everything behind? They look like whoever lived there had to quickly get away like there was a zombie attack or something. Super weird. This guy has been to abandoned malls, stores, amusement parks, hotels, and other random places. It just always trips me out when stuff is left behind, like photos, paperwork, etc. Like why?? Some of the hotels still have the beds.

What's your favorite dip? I’ve been really into spinach and artichoke dip with sourdough bread lately.

Chocolate Cookies or Fudge Brownies? Oh, fudge brownies all the way. 

I give you a little baby puppy. What do you name him? I’d have to see him first and see what seems fitting. See what vibe I get.

Is crime a big problem in your area? Unfortunately, yes.

What's your town/city most well known for? Nothing good.

Do you know a Jack? What's he like? Nope.

How about a Lisa? What's she like? I don’t know a Lisa.

Are most your friends older, younger or the same age as you? No friends.

Do you subconsciously hang out with those with the same star sign as you or as each other, perhaps due to certain personality traits? Think about it: No. I don’t believe in astrology, but there was only one other Leo in my former friend group. It’s possible there were others at some point, but I didn’t pay attention to that kind of stuff.

Name 5 objects that you don't have but would like right now? Right this moment? I don’t know, it’s almost 5AM I’m not wanting anything really right now.

When you have children, would you like twins?  I don’t want to have children.

Do you know any twins? If so, what are they called? I do; Aleksa and Maci.

If you were given the choice to choose your child’s gender, would you?

What instrument would you love to learn how to play?  I wish I could get into the piano again.

Does the sound of knocking/tapping startle you? Yes. I’m such a jumpy person.

What's the scariest story/urban legend/creepypasta etc you heard?  One that just came to mind is the one where a girl is driving alone at night and a car behind seems to be following her and they flash their headlights and whatnot and the girl is really creeped out. She drives to a police station or somewhere and the person following them gets out and alerts them that they were trying to get their attention because there’s someone in her backseat and skjsklfjkds that always gives me the chills. It was a story in that “Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark” book, which I read as a kid, and it always stuck with me. It was a good lesson to always check your backseat before getting in your car!

Do you miss someone currently? I’ll always miss my loved ones who have passed away.

When was the last time you were in hospital? What for [if comfy saying]? Back in 2012 because I had to have intestinal surgery.

When was the last time you went to the dentist? It’s been awhile. :X

Do you get along well with your family doctor/your doctor? I like my primary and the wound specialist doctor I see, but I have issues with my pain doctor.

What personality trait does nearly everyone in your family seem to have? I think we all have a good sense of humor.

The survey’s ended. I hope you enjoyed it. :) Thanks.

[slasherbeachbitch]

Can I request some smut with Billy Lenz and/or Bubba Sawyer with a male reader?

Okay, so firstly this is the first time I’ve written smut in three years, so it’s not great. Second I’ve never had sex and not a man so if I messed up (Which I probably did) I apologize. Finally, I will no doubt rewrite this in the future when I’m way better at writing this type of stuff.

It had taken a lot of begging with Mrs. Mac, but you were finally allowed to stay here in the dorm for a month or two. It had started with the sudden death of your parents and, having nowhere to live close by, for the time being, your sister Barbara had pleaded with her house mother (Is that the term?) to let you stay in the spare room until you could find a place.

So, stayed you did. By the end of the week, you had your things unpacked and were already making friends with the girls. Of course, a lot of them were apprehensive towards you, given the fact you were a guy, but other than that you clicked seamlessly with them, like a missing puzzle piece.

By week two you were informed of mountains of gossip and insights you had never even dreamed about women to talk about. And you also learned of the infamous Moaner who had started harassing the girl's dorm a month before your arrival.

The phone calls were, ghastly. With the man over the phone saying the dirtiest possible things imaginable. It didn't really bother you since it was probably some weirdo trying to scare a house of girls, but then he started mentioning you. Specific things about you, and what he wanted to do to you. Specific things you did to yourself.

Deep down you were scared because that meant someone was watching you, the girls, everyone. The thought of something bad happening to any of you was terrifying to the point where you didn't want to even leave your very capable sister alone in her own room.

Then the shuffling in the attic started. It was a little after thanksgiving when you heard the creaky floorboards and crazed squeals and, apart of you thought that they were always there, you just hadn't noticed up until now.

Though, in a deep dark and sick part of your gut, you liked this. The mystery, the attention, the phone calls, even him. You liked all of this, and maybe that was the scariest part of all to you.

A few times you wondered if something (Or someone) was watching you, and while of course Claude typically stayed with you a lot of the time, it felt much more piercing and predatory than the Persian's tranquil stare.

Yet you tried to carry on as per usual to not stir up any trouble or worry anyone. Barb and the other girls seemed to either not notice, or not worry, so maybe it was best not to bring it up.

Your dreams started getting weird after a while too, definitely due to stress. They started getting realistic and you could almost feel hands gliding over you. Stimulating you through your underwear.

Then one day, you woke up and, it wasn't a dream.

You saw him, the man that had been harassing your housemates for a good long while. It hurt you to say he wasn't bad looking either, which made you feel worse.

He wasn't a feral wild man in appearance but by the maddened glint in his deep chocolate eyes, you could tell he wasn't all there. He had glasses askew on his very delicate looking face, a young face, maybe only a few years older than you max.

When he saw you were awake and alert, he pounced like a ravenous beast waiting to devour you whole. You didn't have time to even scream in surprise before he shoved a balled-up piece of fabric into your mouth, cutting off any noise you could've made.

His hands were soft as they threw the warm mountain of blankets off your half-clothed form, and running over your chest as the cold air in the room hardened your nipples to stiff peaks.

In your mind, you had an idea as to where this was going, and your stomach was doing flips due to your nerves or excitement. God, you felt sick.

At some point, this beastly person started talking. First, in hushed whispers that grew to a volume you could hear. Mutterings in different voices saying things like "Piggy bitch, your gonna lick my juicy fucking cock.", or "Gonna make you choke on my thick dick, gonna make you slobber on it." His hands were going lower and lower on your body as he said these things, sticking a few prying fingers under the band of your underwear and rather forcefully pushing them down your thighs.

His slender fingers wrapped around your half-hard member, giving it a few quick strokes before lowering his face towards your hips. He gave some stinging bites to your pelvis before licking a long stripe on the underside of your cock.

You were, by all accounts, frozen in place. You'd been wondering what the fuck you should do, but as things were going now, you kinda just thought to go with it. As fucked as that was. On the off-chance that this was some really vivid dream you were having, you might as well enjoy what your brain concocted. If not, then you might as well play along with this psychopath.

He was currently giving your now hardened dick the most teasing, delicate licks on the head one second before he practically swallowed you the next. Holding you against the back of his throat and gagging before releasing. Until he just stopped.

You heard his belt unbuckle and his pants unzip, seeing his jeans fly through the air and land haphazardly onto the floor next to your closet door in a heap with his underwear following after.

He straddled your chest as his (honestly kind of average) hard-on slapped against your cheek, a small streak of pre-cum left in a trail on your face.  Plucking the piece of cotton that was shoved forcefully into your mouth, chucking it somewhere into the darkness.

Getting the hint, you returned the favor. Lips gently and gingerly wrapping around his head. A hand grabbed your hair and practically forced you to go further far faster than you'd like causing you to gag a little as he hit the back of your throat.

You quickly tried to accommodate him, letting his hands drag you along his cock at whatever he deemed fit as you tried to focus on breathing and moving your tongue around him.

His grunts and moans filled your room quickly, his hands started wrapping around your throat, cutting off your air supply. You sputtered and tried to push him off, though for a twig of a man he was hard to throw off.

In a matter of moments, he pulled out and came on your face, painting it in streaks of white. His hands didn't let up though.

Your vision was getting fuzzier, and the more he pressed the further you slipped into unconsciousness. You couldn't help but think, man what a shitty way to go.

When you heard the sound of knocking on your door though, you realized two things. One, you weren't dead. And two, you'd have to either come up with a really good explanation as to why there were handprints around your neck or tell the truth.

And there was no way in hell you were going to tell them what happened.