#while nightmare calls me emergency food

[inkz123]

The way theyd hold me😳

[silverbrain]

Eepy Activities

Summary- sleepy Zayne is so tired he's basically sleeptalking

It had been a particularly trying week for Zayne. Monday and Tuesday had been flooded with sudden emergencies and the talk he had to give on Wednesday only added to the stress. Sure, Zayne loved his job. He’d never complain, but you could see how tired he was getting, in the way he’d fall asleep as soon as he lay down at night.

It was finally Friday evening, which meant Zayne had a half day. He comes home from the gym enthusiastically, entering the apartment and calling out to you immediately.

“Where are you?”, he sings, a bit dramatically. You peer out from the couch where you had been scrolling away on your phone, the screen lights nearly lulling you to sleep.

“Someone’s happy to be back”, you say, amusedly.

“Of course, I am. I get to see you”, Zayne says as he crosses the carpeted floor to envelope you in a hug. The fresh smell of his shampoo wafts up to your nose briefly.

You quickly make plans for dinner and decide to watch a movie that you had both been wanting to watch for a while. Zayne even suggests helping you cook, even though you try to tell him to sit down and rest after his week.

“I feel fine, really”, he assures.

You know he’s moving on sheer willpower and you’re kind of waiting for the crash. It always comes eventually. Once a week, whenever his odd hours let him, Zayne would sleep for hours. Sometimes 9, sometimes 12. Yet, he always refused to take rest unless his body took it for him.

You eat a dinner of pasta and chicken breast. Zayne makes sure to comment on the amazing quality of your cooking as he devours the food. Soon after, you’re settling in, in your cozy bed in your pajamas, anticipating a good movie and a cozy night.

You skitter around in the room, drinking some water and doing a few end-of-the-day tasks as Zayne sits in the bed, blanket already on his legs, glasses askew. He’s trying to multitask looking at something on his phone and the television screen, peering through the top of his glasses as he alternates between the two. A small smile appears on your face at his cuddly appearance.

“Let me just wash my face and then I’ll be there”

“Okay”, Zayne smiles at you, before going back to searching for the movie.

A few minutes pass. You’d taken a bit longer than usual, peering at yourself in the mirror, wondering if that new skincare product you had bought was working. You return to find him slumped against the headboard, remote still in hand, breathing lightly. You creep into bed slowly, carefully trying not to wake him up, as you take the remote from his hands. He hardly reacts at all, probably spiraling slowly into the depths of sleep.

You sigh as you switch the screen off. You couldn’t find it in you to wake him up, when he was looking so soft and sleepy. The movie could wait. Still feeling incredibly awake, you decide to read the novel you had been putting away for a while.

A good few minutes of reading pass. Beside you, Zayne has quietly slipped off the headboard to lie in the mattress, his body giving in to much needed sleep. He turns once, to lie on his chest, hands below the pillow. You cast him a look. He was hardly a restless sleeper, but it seemed like the tiredness was getting to him.

Then, you hear a quiet hum. Your eyebrow quirks in surprise as you look over to him, wondering if he was having a nightmare. It didn’t seem like it, because Zayne simply mumbled something that sounded like a question. “…palpitions?”

You curiously focus on his lips, as he seems to be asking about something. He furrows his brow a little, the same way he does when he’s thinking deeply.

“What’s wrong?”, you ask softly, taking care not to wake him up.

“pal…tions”, he sighs.

Huh? Is he dreaming about his patients? You reach out to press your thumb against his furrowed brow. His frown dissolves instantly and he seems to have lost track of his dream, nuzzling his face deeper into the pillow.

You run you hand through his soft hair a few times before getting back to reading your book, before you hear Zayne shuffling around to lie on his back. He pulls the blanket up to his chest as he does it, leaving his arms above the blanket. You giggle a little. He looks like the perfect stock photo of ‘sleep’.

He sleeps peacefully for a few minutes, and you focus your attention back to your book, getting lost in the fantasy world the author has weaved. You look over to him, only to find him sleeping with both his hands raised.

You nearly jolt at the strange sight.  His left hand extends high up in the air, poised as if holding a pen, while his right arm bends at the elbow, spinning little circles.

‘What is he doing?’, you wonder with fascination as he continues his little actions, slow and repetitive. You watch him with interest as he seems to move his hands in tandem, a little circle with the right hand, then a little push with the left, before it dawns on you what he’s doing.

Your mouth hangs open in realization. He’s doing surgery! In his sleep! The motions look eerily similar to the doctor shows you’d seen on Netflix, a little slower, a little stranger.

You don’t know whether to be alarmed or in awe. You’re certainly feeling both the emotions. It’s also a little bit cute, the sure and practiced motions of his hands clouded by sleep, now appearing slow and little, as if he was knitting a sweater for a cat or something. Worry floods your brain next. Was Zayne so overworked his subconscious was performing surgeries in his dreams?! Who was he even dreaming about? Would he even remember in the morning?

Your hands instantly reach for your phone charging on the bedside table, pressing record. Zayne stalls, as if can sense you’re about to record him. You nearly pause the video in frustration, but he simply huffs and continues. Little movements with his right hand, followed by an occasional movement with his left. You record him for a few seconds, before he drops his right arm, now sleeping with his left raised high up in the air.

It looks comical, really. You chuckle a little, replaying the video you just captured. Oh, he was going to hear about it in the morning for sure.

Zayne lets his arm linger in the air for a few more seconds before he brings it down to tuck it under the blanket, before rolling over. Guess the ‘surgery’ was over then.

x

The next day you wake up to find Zayne calmly nursing a cup of coffee at the kitchen island, while reading an article on his phone. You creep up on him to ambush him with a back hug.

A soft hmpf leaves his lips, as he sets the coffee mug on the table. “Don’t scare me, darling, I nearly burned myself”, he says, turning to give you a soft kiss. “Slept well?”

“Hmm, I should really ask you that question though”, you answer cheekily as you pour yourself a cup of coffee.

“What do you mean?”, Zayne asks.

You look at him over the rim of the cup as you take a long sip. “It just seems like you slept well yesterday…”

“I… guess I did?”, Zayne answers doubtfully, sensing the hint of mischief in your voice. “What?”

You silently unlock your phone to show him the video you had silently giggled over yesterday. Zayne’s eyes widen as he takes your phone in his hand, looking at his own image, asleep. His eyes widen comically as he sees himself perform the motions, hands raised in the air. His mind is drawing a blank. He did this? This is him?

“Were you working in your sleep?”, you ask, voice still mischievous, clearly hiding the worry you feel for him.

“I…”, he replays the video, eyes fixating on himself, unable to believe it. “I had no idea I did this”, he confesses, a little embarrassed.

A small laugh escapes you. He takes another sip of his coffee, trying to make it a long one, to hide away his embarrassment.

“See, you work too much...”, you say as you turn away to reach for the jam. “you’re operating even in your sleep!”

“It’s hardly operating…”

You turn around and give him a look. He looks away, knowing there was probably some truth to your words. “I’ll take more breaks…”

You were going to make sure he did.

Tagging @chryssikyu for this fun idea

[luxcuriousao3]

Obsessed!Ghost Part 1

WC: 1173

Warnings: smoking, implied stalking (kinda), animal injury, mentions of Ghost's comic backstory, mentions of Ghost's canonical SA nightmares, implied DID!Ghost, no smut/nsfw, not beta read

Notes: Since y'all voted that you wanted me to publish stuff from my drafts while I'm too busy to write new stuff. Here's the fic that inspired my most popular post, Mutt (Ghost's Version).

Simon knew he wasn't a good man.

He hadn’t been a good man in a long time. Not since Roba, certainly. But deep down, he thought that maybe he never was. That his father’s sickness was passed down to him like a cursed family heirloom he couldn’t get rid of. That the darkness that plagued him ever since his time in the Mexican desert was not created there, merely unearthed. That these urges had always been inside him, an evilness written in his genes, flowing through his blood, built into his very bones.

Simon wished that he had truly died in the fire that destroyed his old life, that the man that had emerged from the ashes like a dark phoenix wasn’t him. That Ghost was just that—a spectre of the man Simon used to be. That’s what he let everyone believe. What he tried to believe. But it wasn't true. Ghost had always been a part of him. The part that took his father’s beatings stoically when Simon couldn’t. The part that gunned down enemy soldiers without flinching, no matter how young and scared they looked. The part that didn’t question orders, even if he knew they were wrong. The part that sneered at the people around him and thought about how easy it would be to kill them, to hurt them, to subjugate them. To make them feel all the suffering that had forged him into the monster that he was.

The part Simon had spent so long denying and trying to repress.

But Roba had cracked him wide open, forced Ghost out for months on end, to endure the torture Simon wouldn’t have been able to alone. Ghost had dug them out of their grave, dragged them out of hell, and then retreated back inside, like he always did. He had never known anything but pain. His sole purpose was to suffer it in order to keep Simon alive. When his job was done, he got to go inside and cease to exist, for a little while. That was how he liked it.

And then the fire happened, and suddenly, Ghost was thrust into the driver’s seat for everyday life.

But Simon didn’t go dormant like Ghost did when he wasn’t in control, at least not usually. Not unless Ghost forced him to. No, he watched, and he listened, and sometimes he even told Ghost what to say to seem like a human being. It was Simon that MacTavish had a friendship with. It was Simon that called him Johnny. It was Simon that cracked the dryest, darkest jokes known to man. It was Simon that went out for the occasional drink with the lads. It was Simon that still had wants and desires. Ghost’s only desire was to survive.

Until you.

Ghost was taking a smoke when he saw you for the first time. You were pretty, very much so, but that wasn’t what had caught his eye. It was watching you approach the nasty, snarling dog that tended to linger around the base. He’d heard the jokes. The ones that claimed that the ill tempered, ferocious animal was actually him. It had never been seen in the same room as the Ghost, after all, and no other creature could be as foul as he was.

But you were cooing sweetly at the half rabid dog, unphased by its animosity. It had managed to get itself injured, and most of the boys thought they were finally rid of the wretched thing. But now here you were, a pretty little civilian that had no business being this close to an active military base, following the wounded dog down the road until it couldn’t walk any longer. You didn’t flinch when it snapped at you, didn’t fight back even when it bit your arm. You just sat with it like an idiot, feeding it bits of food from your purse and telling it how cute it was, unconcerned that the dirt and blood was making a mess of your nice dress.

And amazingly, the feral creature that terrorized everyone on the base and that they were all glad to see kick the bucket, climbed into your lap and began licking your face, tucked tail wagging.

You giggled, and Ghost, who’d long since finished his cigarette and was now openly lingering around the fence to watch you, thought it was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard.

“Who’s a good boy?” You asked the mangy mutt in your arms, nuzzling your face against its snout, which was still covered in your own blood. You should have been terrified, should have been disgusted. But you weren’t. “It’s you! You’re a good boy, yes you are, yes you are!”

Ghost thought about going over to you and offering to bring you back to base to get your arm looked at. It was still bleeding sluggishly, after all. But before he could decide, you’d already scooped up the dog and begun to walk away. Ghost stared after you, dark eyes boring a hole into your back. And when you disappeared around the bend, he found himself pushing off the fence to follow.

He caught up quickly. You were moving slow, the dog whining and wiggling in your arms. It snapped at you whenever you accidentally jostled its hurt leg, but you never dropped it even though you trembled under its weight, and it never truly tried to bite you again. Why would it? You were probably the only person in its miserable existence to ever show it any kindness.

Ghost wondered what that would be like. For someone to look at him without flinching, to touch him without fear, the way you had the dog. Even MacTavish was still afraid of him, sometimes, though he tried not to show it. But when Ghost locked Simon out, when it was Ghost the sergeant was interacting with instead, he got all stiff and cautious. Like he was just waiting for him to snap.

Perhaps that's what this was. Ghost snapping.

Turn around.

Simon’s voice rang in his head, firm but with a nervous edge. He knew the things Ghost was capable of. The things he thought about. They were one, after all, if not quite the same.

I’m not going to touch her, he mentally replied. Simon was afraid for no reason. Ghost had never wanted to rape a woman before. He’d only had nightmares about it. About how he would do it. About what she would look like underneath him, crying and struggling and begging for mercy.

It wasn’t a pleasant image, even if he always woke up from those dreams with wet pants.

I’m not going to touch her, he thought again. And he wasn’t. He just wanted to watch you for a little longer. To make sure you got home before you passed out from blood loss. Why? He didn’t know. It was odd. But you’d peaked his interest, and not many things did. Certainly not people.

There was something about you. And for the first time, Ghost wanted.

[enwoso]

Can I request either alessia is on a team bonding night out and has Ella minding grumpy but grumpy has a nightmare and wakes up and refuses to settle without alessia so all the Arsenal girls come back to do their bonding night at alessias so grumpy can relax and go back to sleep

and/or

Grumpy having an allergic reaction to something and getting sick and alessia and the girls have to look after her

need her | alessia russo x child!reader

grumpy masterlist

"wit woo! doesn't your mummy look gorgeous, tiny!" ella giggled as she looked at you with a smile as alessia emerged from round the corner, her heels clicking on the wooden floors which took your attention from the tv playing one of the many films you and ella had lined up for the night.

you and ella sat both in pyjamas, blankets covering the two of you as you'd turned alessia's living room into a blanket fort along with all your teddy's from your room joining just to make sure they didn't feel left out.

alessia had spent the last hour getting ready to go out for some food and a few drinks with the arsenal girls it being part of their team bonding. when nights like these occurred you usually would spent the night with either your uncles or your grandparents but since ella was in london, ella jumped at the opportunity to see her favourite little russo.

"mummy look like a princess" you smiled as alessia gave you a pout as she came over to kiss your forehead and say her good nights to you.

"mummy loves you and be good for auntie ella, okay?" your mummy's tone had changed so you knew she was serious and you nodded, "'ove you too"

ella getting up and walking alessia to her front door. the cab filled with some of the arsenal girls already out side waiting. "and ella remember no sweets after 8 and her night light needs to be on and she doesn't-" alessia began her list of reminders to her best friend, things ella had heard at least five times today.

"doesn't like her door shut, i know less! now go and have fun with the girls and have a few drinks for me yeah?" ella patted the blonde on the shoulder as she stood in the doorway saying her goodbyes, waving to a few of the arsenal girls who she knew that were sat waiting for the blonde in the uber.

"i'll should be back before 12! call me if you need anything!" alessia called out as she walked down the garden, ella waving her off watching as the uber pulled away. moving to shut the front door hearing it click in place before walking back to where you were sitting contentedly watching bluey.

"right i think it's sweet time, tiny!"

after eating too many sweets that if alessia found out she would definitely be a little mad as the ending credits of the last film you were watching were rolling on the screen now, after watching luca first, ella should have maybe put on cars or the good dinosaur but she didn't.

and she wouldn't even deem it a scary film but you were scared. you'd watched pinocchio. ella didn't even noticed the warning that said it wouldn't be suitable for children under the age of 8. just assuming because it was in the children's section that it would be okay for you to watch.

ella knew you were scared but when she asked you, you had told her you were a big girl and nothing scares you.

so when ella put you to bed at your bedtime of half seven making sure you put your night light on and leaving your door open after you'd drifted off to sleep. ella now hoping to be able to catch up on her own series while tidying up the mess you and her had made over the evening.

what ella didn't expect half an hour later was:

"ella.." you spoke quietly, your blanket and esme the elephant teddy held close to you as you stood in the dimly lit hallway. ella looking up from her phone to see your scared frame as tears pooled in your eyes.

"oh tiny, what's wrong?" she cooed as you wondered close to her, your bottom lip starting to wobble as she held you in her arms.

"n-nightmare" you choked out as the tears began. images of the film you'd last watched replayed in your head as well as you nightmare which was of a similar story line.

“shh it’s okay, don’t cry” ella tried her best to calm you down but everything she tried had no affect on you, the tears carried on and ella was at the point where she didn’t know what to do.

she had tried rocking you back and forth, putting bluey on the tv for you to watch, reading you a story book, giving you some milk but nothing worked and nothing soothed you.

“wan m-ma-ma” you whimpered as you sat in ella’s lap, ella conflicted as she didn’t want to ruin alessia’s night but she also didn’t want to have you upset and there was nothing she could do that would settle you. you didn’t just want your mummy, you needed her.

the brunette sighed in defeat, picking her phone from her pocket and getting alessia’s contact up, pressing on her number. to her surprise it only took a few rings before the blondes voice could be heard.

“ella? is everything okay?” she asked, a slight wince on alessia’s face as she could hear you small whimpers for mummy in the back ground.

“um i’m sorry to ruin your night but less she won’t stop cryin’ for you. i’ve tried everything!” ella said, feeling guilty about ruining the blondes night out which only came once in a blue moon for alessia to begin with.

alessia reassuring ella over and over that it was okay, “ella i’ll be ten minutes max, just keep comforting her and i’ll be as quick as i can!”

alessia finished the last little bit of her drink getting up from the table, making sure she had everything before booking an uber back to her house. the arsenal girls had ended up in the local darts club a few drinks along with a gossip and a few games of cards.

“sorry girls but i need to go, y/n won’t settle for ella” alessia apologised as a few of the girls nodded understanding the blonde’s situation before beth spoke up.

“if it’s not too much trouble for you could we not finish the bonding night at yours? maybe order some food in?” beth suggested, alessia taking a minute to think before agreeing. the rest of the girls beginning to pack their own things before making arrangements of who was going in what uber.

eventually after twenty minutes alessia made it back to hers, rushing in front of the other girls. knowing the current state of her that her daughter was in.

unlocking her door with her set of keys, dropping her back and shoes at the door. leaving it open for the girls to come through as the blonde made her way to the living room. her heart breaking slightly at the sound of your cries. you never cried like that so something must of really upset you.

seeing you bundled up in ella’s arms a look of relief came over ella as she saw her best friend. alessia’s motherly instinct kicking in as she scooped you up into her arms. you head going into her neck as your cries immediately started to quieten down.

“what happened?” alessia asked, wondering what it was that had upset you, normally when you were with ella you didn’t even need alessia around. getting on with the brunette like a house on fire always giggling and joking around with her.

“she had a nightmare, and i have now learned that pinocchio is not suitable for children” ella scratched the back of her neck a awkward smile appearing on her face as she spoke. alessia humming, it all made sense to the blonde now.

alessia excusing herself upstairs to try and settle you down for the night as she allowed the arsenal girls in telling them to make themselves comfy as ella chatted away to them.

“it’s okay baby, mama’s here.” alessia cooed as she lay with you in your bed, drawing little shapes on your back as you hiccuped. you starting to feel more relaxed as you clung to your mummy not wanting to let go.

you breathing was starting to become more shallow as you drifted in and out of sleep, the only sound to be heard in your home was the hushed voices of the arsenal squad. alessia placing a sweet kiss to your forehead.

“mummy loves you so much”

[iloveyousomuchxoxoxo]

Hey there! I saw ya post and uh wondered if I could request Tom smut.

A one shot where reader and Tom sorta hate eachother but always have this sexual tension, and one day when the group was bored and decided to host a "party" (it was js them watching movies and not really paying attention to it with junk food and soft drinks)

After Edd n Matt go to bed Reader and Tom are left Drunk outta their minds, so yknow they decided to start insulting each other but Tom accidentally lets his real feelings slip and called Reader Hot or smth and they start uh doin the thingy yknow. Sorry if this is long

Fem reader if that's alright! Also I'm sorry if this is too specific but can reader also be around Tom's height? Thanks!

| " Hate and lust are so similar "

AUGH I LOVE THIS??? Sorry it took me so long to see this-- been without a monitor for a little while. Hope you like this! NSFW ;; MDNI !! Tom x FEM!Reader ( P in v, switch!Tom + Switch!Reader, degrading + praise, hate sex(? Maybe?), hair pulling, drunk sex ) okay so this has been ROTTING IN MY DRAFTS FOREVER,,,, and i dont have the motivation to continue it so im posting it as is, if people like it i'll probably finish it

Tom, with his weird black eyes, ugly brown hair, and a smile that made you weak in the knees with.. disgust. You hated him, really. Hated him so much. Though you didn't know much about Tord (you had moved in after the mysterious Norge left), you could understand why he supposedly hated him.

And Tom hated you, too! So it was justified.

"..Ugh, fine." You groaned at Matt, who was stood in front of you, bright eyes sparkling as he had been begging you to get out of your room to hangout with everyone. Including Tom. But, he had promised free drinks.

"Great!" Matt exclaimed, grabbing your hand and dragging you excitedly to the living room. Whoa, Matt and Edd had gone all out, huh? The table was filled to the brim with an assortment of snacks, and beverages, both alcoholic, and regular.

When your eyes settled on the familiar brunette, you felt a pang of annoyance hit you. To be honest, you had forgotten Tom would be here too.

"Oh, great," Tom's voice drawled out, "the local douche is here. Y'not gonna ruin this for all of us, right?" A sigh emerged from Edd, and Matt rolled his eyes. You weren't as amused as Tom seemed to be.

"I should be asking you that, fuckass," you countered in a huff, walking to the very opposite side of the couch and plopping down.

Despite the few quarrels between Tom and yourself, the night had been going surprisingly well! You and Tom had even agreed on something; choice of drink. Smirnoff. It was obvious, you two were clearly drunk off your asses.

"Shouldn't you.. slow down?" Matt offered meekly, brows furrowing. You scoffed loudly, flinging your arms up. "At least drink some water, Y/N!" he demanded, thrusting a bottle of water at you.

With some argument you took the water and downed around half of it. Then chased it with another shot. Matt, clearly frustrated, stormed off. He tended to get pissy when he wasn't listened to, after all. Edd called out to Matt, before following, leaving Tom and you alone. What would usually be your worst nightmare.

But tonight it seemed.. different.

"Ain't Matt such a buzz kill?" you asked Tom, laughing. A chuckle escaped the brit and he nodded, "Always and forever." The two of you cracked up in laughter.

Then, Tom's face turned sour, as if he had tasted something foul. "Shu-- shut up! Yer' laugh is so annoying." You were taken aback, your expression turning less than happy as well. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me, Y/N! Your voice is annoying, every'hing about you s'annoying!" He threw his arms up, as if to somehow make his point more convincing. "So I'm annoying? At least I don't look like a freak!"

The two of you shot back and fourth insults at each other.

"Well-- well YOU sound stupid, stuttering all the time!" You hissed, scowling at Tom, lips curled in a sneer. Did Tom tend to stutter? Not exactly, but sometimes when it was just you too, he'd slip up over his words.

"It's not my fault you're so hot!" He countered, before stopping, going bright red.

You weren't sure if it was the drinks getting to you, or the fact your heart skipped a beat when he had said that-- but you felt an odd feeling collecting at your core. "..You think m'hot?" You asked as carefully as you could.

Shamefully, Tom nodded.

With rather quick movements, you found yourself on Tom's lap, peering down at him expectantly. "Holy fuck-!" He gasped, hands instinctively flying out to grab hold of your waist. "Did you really mean it? Or-- or was it the.. y'know," you nodded towards the empty cans lying around.

A small huff escaped Tom, and he leaned forward, pressing his lips against yours. Deciding that, 'what the hell, I've already come this far', you immediately kissed back, your hands resting themselves on Tom's face. You felt the brit's teeth nip at your lower lip- silently asking for permisson.

You hummed against his lips, not opening your mouth in the slightest. This seemed to annoy him, and his hand snaked around to your back, sliding down ever so slowly. He squeezed hard on the plush of your ass and it caused your breath to hitch, a small gasp escaping you as your back arched.

Tom took the opportunity and shoved his tongue into your mouth, his hands letting up their tight grip on you slightly. After a bit of tongue wrestling, you eventually began to feel something poke at you from underneath.

When you pulled away from Tom, a small string of saliva connected your lips, and the sight made the thing poking you become harder. A grin spread across your face, and you rolled your hips ever so slightly. "Y-- Y/N!" Tom gasped, his hips bucking up slightly, thrusting against you.

Feigning innocence, you cocked your head to the side and raised an eyebrow. "What?" Tom whined as you continued to roll your hips on him, his hips rutting up for any sort of friction on his aching member. He didn't care what stimulation or friction it was-- he just needed something. Anything.

"Quit teasing me, fuckin' whore.." he murmured, clenching onto your ass tightly. You chuckled, shaking your head. "I dunno, your pretty mean to me-- a lot."

Typically you assumed you'd be disgusted at the idea of doing anything like this with Tom of all people.. but the way he looked up at you, his boner rubbing up against you, expression glazed with need, and lust; it made you want him, badly. Feeling your resolve buckle, you swiftly made to unzipping Tom's pants- an action that clearly surprised the drunk.

[bigification]

Giant

I drift away to sleep laying on the hot sand and bathing in the sunlight. I feel relaxed for a moment until I'm thrust into a nightmare. I find myself at my desk, wasting away for a job that I hate. The only reason I went on this vacation is to escape, but no matter what I do I end up back in the same place. This nightmare seems different to the rest, it's so loud. Usually all I can hear is keys tapping and clocks ticking, but now there is another noise. It's... screaming. It's getting louder and louder, the sound of people screaming.

I jolt awake. The screaming was coming from real life. I sit up and see dozens of people running away from the beach. What the hell is going on. Some part of me wants to just go back to sleep, but if this many people are running maybe I should too. I begin to grab some of my stuff and get up to leave, but I'm stopped by what feels like an earthquake. I turn to the shoreline and see a giant beast emerge from the water. It looks human, but unless my eyes deceive me, he must be at least 50 feet tall.

The beast approaches the beach, I know I should run but my body won't let me move. I also notice I'm the only one left on the beach, everyone else has run. He steps onto the beach, the closer he gets, the more I realize how massive he actually is. Soon he's standing right in front of me, and I have to look straight up just to see his face. He reaches down and grabs me, holding nearly my entire body in just one hand. I try to scream, but there's no use now, all my screams will be muffled in the beasts hand.

I can't see much, so I spend the next few minutes trashing about until I have no energy left. It doesn't seem to be making a difference anyway. After what feels like a couple of minutes, the beast stops moving. I get gently laid down on the floor, and get a chance to look around at the expansive room around me. It looks like a normal house, just massive. It makes me feel like a tiny ant. As I'm taking in the scenery, I bump into something soft. I turn to see a massive leg in front of me. My eyes drift upward to see a massive man standing in front of me, he must have been the height of the man that brought me here, just a lot fatter. I shield my eyes from the man's massive cock, and look past his round gut to see the man looking down at me.

"Watch where you're going pipsqueak!" The giant says in a deep voice. I lost my balance as his receding steps shook the ground below me.

"Don't mind him, he's always in a bad mood." The giant who brought me here kneeled down to talk to me.

"Does anyone wear clothes around here?" I ask in return.

"Were not savages, we try to if we can come across clothes large enough. I know this might seem frightening, but you and I are more similar than you think."

"Why did you even bring me here?" I say confused.

"Come, walk with me, I'll explain." He says as I start to follow him, though it takes me a few minutes to cover the ground he can in one step so he walks slow.

"My name is Yusef, by the way." The giant says.

"I'm Jack." I reply.

"A long time ago, a settlement of humans came across a forest while hunting. This forest contained food with mystical properties that provided the humans with far more energy than they needed. The humans obviously took advantage of this to prevent their people from starving. Over time, their bodies started to grow larger than that of normal humans due to the food. Eventually they became a whole new species called 'Giants'." Yusef monologues. "The only problem is that only the men of that settlement grew, the women remained normal humans. This meant that the Giants could not reproduce. So out of desperation, they would find other humans and turn them into giants to keep their species alive. We are what's left of those giants."

"So... You want to turn me into a giant?" I ask, still trying to process the entire story.

"Yes." He responds bluntly.

We both walk in silence for a moment as I process the situation.

"Ok, I want to be a giant." I say confidently.

"What? Humans usually aren't so eager." He questions.

"My life back home sucked, I have nothing , I have no one. At least here I'll have something."

He smiled before pointing to the room beside us. "This is the most recent giant before you, Antony." Yusef points to a man sleeping on the couch.

"He's been asleep for a while now. The last feast really took a toll on him." He states.

"Feast?" I ask.

"You need a lot of calories when your body is that big, so we fatten up the Giants as much as we can."

"Well what about you, you're not fat."

"I stay fit because I am the one who has to get new giants like you, I need to be a bit more nimble than the average giant. For the rest of us, it's better to keep a hefty store of energy. You should have seen Antony here when he was human. He was built like me, big shoulders and skinny waist, washboard abs. He's only been here three days and now look at him."

As he's talking, I look down at my own body. Now I'm no Yusef, but I've worked hard for my body. Maybe I could be like Yusef and stay skinny. As I'm thinking, I notice Antony's hand move. "Are you sure he's asleep, his hand is moving." I ask.

"Oh he's asleep, he's just getting used to having the sex drive of a giant." He responds.

I notice that his hand is moving back and forth over his dick. "That kinda sucks for a species that can't reproduce." I say.

"It's not so bad, we like to have fun with it." Yusef turns to another giant and winks at him. "Lookin good Pete!" He shouts at the giant. Pete looks back and smiles before going back to checking himself out in the mirror.

I fall silent again, coming to another realization. I didn't think about it before but, if there are only male giants, then who do they fuck. Well I just got my answer, they fuck eachother. What do I do if I'm not gay. I mean with the amount of men they turn into giants, there's no way I'm the first straight guy they get. Maybe they just get so bored that they fuck eachother because there's nothing else to do. It's no big deal, I could just not have sex, it's like I was having much sex back home either. Besides, I'm sure they still have porn here, I won't be completely out of luck.

"And we've made it." Yusef says as he stops and turns to me. "This is where you become a giant."

I look around the empty room. "Why this room?"

"It's empty because the transformation can be quite jarring, so it is safe to be in an empty room."

"Jarring?" I ask, concerned.

"Well we'll give you a concentrated version of the food from the mystical forest I mentioned earlier. It speeds up the transformation to happen in mere minutes rather than months. Not all parts of the body grow at the same pace."

Before I can even process, Yusef grabs me and shoves a large green pellet into my mouth. "Swallow." He states. I swallow it, trying to ignore the disgusting taste.

It doesn't take long for the food to take its effect, and it's not subtle. It starts with my arms. My biceps become massive, growing larger than my head. Next to transform was unfortunately my dick. The pressure in my pants builds until they burst open, leaving me naked. My dick quickly grows out of proportion with my body, growing to the point that it hits the ground. It is even thicker than my legs, making me look like I have a third leg.

"I told you it could be jarring." Yusef said with a slight smirk on his face.

"Don't fucking look." I yell out.

"Oh don't be so uptight, I'm just enjoying the show." He laughs.

I can feel myself growing tall as my perspective gets higher and higher. Soon I can feel my ass grow massive as my stomach grows into a muscle gut, making it hard to keep my balance. The next few minutes are completely insane as different parts of my body grow out of proportion. Soon enough, I see that my eyes are at about the same height as Yusefs, meaning the transformation must be over soon. I finally feel the transformation stop as I'm a few feet taller than Yusef. I'm completely naked, tired, and my body is covered in sweat.

"Here dry off." Yusef throws me a towel. "Oh, and I'm glad you're happy to see me." He winks at me before looking down at my crotch. I look down and see that my dick is fully hard, sticking straight out. I jump and cover my crotch, he just chuckles and walks away.

I dry up and walk out of the room where I find a pair of cargo pants. I slip them on and they fit surprisingly well, I try my best to tuck my boner into the waist of the shorts, but it's not doing much to hide it. I walk around, getting used to the way my body moves. It's much harder to move at the same pace I did before, everything is so heavy that it takes more effort to start and stop moving. And it feels like the air is holding me back, almost like walking in water.

I make my way to the balcony and sit down. The view is quite beautiful from here. In one direction there is a lush swamp and the other is a forest. It's weird that the trees look so small, the tallest ones look like they would barely reach my waist. As I'm enjoying the view, Yusef approaches me. As he's talking to me, it's going in one ear and going right out the other.

"My eyes are up here buddy." He says, snapping me back to reality where I notice I was staring at his chest. I look up and make eye contact with him.

"Have this." He hands me what looks like a phone. "It's a smart tv. Jerry's quite good with electronics and whipped up some phones made from old smart TV's."

"Thanks." I say as I hold the tiny tv in my hand.

"It can do basically anything a phone can other than texting, but we use WhatsApp anyway." He says before turning and walking away. I catch myself staring at him as he walks away, but quickly turn my focus to my new phone. It feels just like a phone, with a touch screen and everything. It has a few apps installed, including twitter and it gives me an idea. I log into my account and scroll through the porn I had saved on it. I scroll and scroll, but I feel nothing. Not until I get to a clip I had saved from pornhub. That got me going. My legs tensed and my dick pulsed. Within seconds I shot my load into my new cargo shorts. As I continue to watch, I notice something. I haven't looked at the woman in this clip once, I have been fixed on the man the entire time. But I've never been gay. I scroll through the many videos and images of women on my twitter and I still feel nothing. Out of curiosity I decide to search for pictures of men. Who's a guy everyone seems to like, oh Chris Evans. I search him up and go to photos. Oh my god. My stomach sinks and my dick rises the instant I look at the photo. What happened to me? I look at all the half naked Giants that walk past the balcony, and it confirms the way I feel. Even weirder is my fixation on their fat. I can't stop staring at their guts and they man tits, or their asses as they walk by. Suddenly the thought of growing like the rest of the Giants doesn't seem so bad.

"You okay?" I'm interrupted by Yusef.

"Ya I'm fine." I try to cover the stain in my shorts.

"Well that didn't take you long." He chuckles, "There is someone you need to meet.

"Oh ya sure." I say while paying no attention to what he is saying. The pecs on that man are unreal, how does a man get pecs that large.

I follow Yusef to what looks like the kitchen and he sits me down. "This is Saul." Yusef says as a man in a bathrobe approaches me. He leans over the table in front of me and gets a closer look at me. He looks older, with salt and pepper hair and wrinkled skin. His robe is loosely tied, letting his hairy gut spill out and allowing me to see his soft chest.

"You always bring me the skinniest ones." Saul says. His eyes drift up and down my body as he pokes and grabs me. "I know exactly what you could use." He says as he walks into the pantry.

"What is he doing." I ask Yusef.

"He's our cook. Just eat whatever he gives you, he has been cooking for us for hundreds of years, so he knows what he's doing." He responds.

"Hundreds of years!?" I yell out in shock.

"Oh ya, I forgot to mention that. We live for centuries, and the food he gives you is essential to that."

Saul comes back with a full platter of food and places it in front of me. "Eat." He tells me as he stands there and watches. I think back to when I was sitting on the balcony, watching all of the fatass giants walking by. I want that. I started stuffing my mouth with all the food on the platter he gave me. His food tasted amazing. You'd think I was starving with the way I was ravaging this food. Before I knew it, the platter was empty. I lean back and pat my bloated stomach with one hand and rub my crotch with the other.

"I like this one." Saul says before running off to the pantry again.

"That was so good." I turn to Yusef.

"Good, there's a lot more to come. You may think you're full, but you can fit a lot more food in you than you think." He responds.

Rounds and rounds of food go by, and I just keep going. I don't even know how long it's been, I just keep eating. I eventually lean back in my chair, defeated. My eyes start to close as I fall asleep.

"He's eaten the most out of any giant I have even seen." I hear Saul say as I'm passing out

"You think he's gonna be bigger than Grant?" Yusef responds.

"Much bigger." Is the last thing I hear before passing out.

- Many days later -

"This is the giant before you." Yusef says.

"Am I gonna be that fat." I hear from an unfamiliar voice.

"No he's the biggest we've ever seen."

I slowly open my eyes and try to lean up, but I feel like I'm being held down. I look down and see a massive mound of fat. Wait, that's me, that's my stomach. I reach out my hands and see the fat sagging in my arms. I cup my pecs in my thick hands, though I'm not sure you could call them pecs anymore. They're so fat that they sag onto my stomach. Speaking of my stomach, I grab it, sending ripples through my body. I can feel it spilling out onto my legs.

"Jack, you're finally awake." Yusef says. "This is our soon to be giant."

I sit up as far as I can and look down at the tiny human. I can't help but wonder what I look like from his perspective.

Once they leave, Antony approaches me.

"Damn you got fat." I say to him. Since the last time I saw him sleeping on the couch, he's gained a ton of weight. His modest belly turned into a full blown beer gut and his pecs are now soft man tits like mine.

"Coming from you fatass." He laughs at me. "You're the biggest slab of meat we've ever seen."

He continues to approach me, and I can see his bulge grow in his tight ass jeans.

"All the Giants here are so boring, they never want to fuck. But I know you feel different, don't you." He sits on my lap, spreading his legs around mine and resting our guts against each other. "Think about what we looked like just a week ago. Strong, with big biceps and washboard abs, now look what they've done to us." He almost moans while saying it. "Isn't it so hot." He pushes me into my back, making me feel the full weight of my own body pinning me down. He starts kissing my chest, sucking on my new fat. He kisses down my hulking gut, leaving a trail of hickies. He lifts up my belly and sticks his head underneath, he pushes my fat pad and wraps his lips around my dick. I let out a loud moan, slightly embarrassed when I realize everyone in the house could hear that. It doesn't matter, I turn my attention back to Antony. My knees buckle from the pleasure as I hold his head against my crotch. I let out another loud moan as I pump my load into his mouth. He looks up at me, "my turn." He says with his mouth dripping with cum. He spreads my legs and sticks his dick inside me. My body almost repels at the feeling, but I quickly accept it. I never thought something up my ass could feel so good. He starts to speed up, becoming more and more aggressive. I can see the ripples run through the fat in our bodies and I can hear the couch groan under our combined weight. It doesn't take long for a warm feeling to fill my insides. Antony lets out a satisfied sigh as he sits back onto the couch.

"You know I was kinda scared about this whole 'becoming a giant' thing, but now I'm a lot more excited." He says as he rests his hand on his gut. "You know being a fat ass is a lot better than I thought it would be."

I chuckle, "ya it ain't so bad is it." I lay back on the couch and relax, having no worries to stress me out.

[ladybyakuya]

| INTO MY KALIEDISCOPES ( part three ) + SUGISHITA KYOTARO !

+cw. — fem!reader, fluff, comfort, domesticity,pinning.

+wc. — 1k 

+syn.—  Sugishita Kyotaro was always the first target for every impromptu plan that Umemiya made while you were Kotoha's. Naturally, when they both made plans you and Sugishita had to face each other again.

+notes. — this is for the flufftober ‘fond moments’ collab event for prompt: date night hosted by @spookuna. m\dni cuz me iz eighteen plus blog. this is part of a mini drabble series that can be read as stand alone. |  redirect to blog navigation. 

The shop that was suggested by both Haji-kun and Koto-chan is the same shop that popped up in Google Maps when you searched for “grocery stores near me.” but now that you are finally here you can tell why it was so hard to locate the shop, even for google. The town guide, Sugishita, who is accompanying you was not much of a help. Besides, talking with him is still a boat you had yet to set foot on let alone sail on it. Never in the worst nightmares you had expected to run into him, again, after that embarrassing date night. 

The shop is almost empty except for the staff at the cash counter who is practically dozing off. It is already quite late at night so you do not see a reason to blame him especially because Makochi is a forlorn town. No shop is ever too crowded to come back home empty-handed. Haji-kun wanted to have a barbeque night; naturally, Hiragi was busy helping him, more like cleaning the mess he left behind after he was done with something, as always. Kotoha, Sakura, Nirei, and Suo are helping with the setup while Kaji and Tsubaki have gone to invite others, especially the members of Shishitoren and the people at show pub Ougi bar. As a result of these patiently concocted coincidences You and Sugishita were the only two people left with nothing to do but one of the most important responsibilities: “grocery shopping.”

A heavy sigh escapes from your chest as you lay your eyes on the entire display of products while standing in front of the fridge. Vibrant in color compared to the other parts of this dull silent shop, it piqued your interest first even though it is the utmost corner. The ground shelf of the fridge, which extends from one end of the shop to the nook of the staircase which would possibly lead to the second floor, is filled with dairy products. The shelf above it is filled with frozen foods and various types of treats with different tastes like salty, spicy, sweets, and alcoholic; the last, the uppermost shelf is filled with a wide variety of chocolates. Your concern is the middle section but the level above it is the most tempting. You pick a bunch of packets from the frozen foods section and look by your right side. 

Oh god! Where did this boy run off to now? He was following you like a stray puppy just a while ago. With the shopping cart in between the two of you, it felt like he was light years apart every time you turned back to keep anything inside it. You look around unable to spot him, slowly sinking into a rabbit hole of distraught since without him you would be lost in Makochi. You would not be able to go back without him. Relying on the phone? That’s pretty useless here. The network is bad besides you do not have anyone’s number except Kotoha and even if you did make a call she would be busy in the preparations of barbeque mostly probably unable to take the call . . . Oh God! Why did Haji-kun have to send you in the middle of nowhere. . . ?

A metallic screech sucks you out of your puddle of thoughts. You look in the direction of the source and a nonchalant Sugishita appears emerging from another section of the rack that has a lot of mangas, magazines, and books, by standing on the bar of the shopping cart while hunching his upper body to balance his weight, skidding it till he comes to a halt in front of you. His head turns up towards you, eyes blinking: one, twice, thrice before he straightens himself up to stand properly. He stands looking at the fridge, the cart in between you two as you inspect him for a few seconds. He is not hunching like he usually does around Umme! The inner flesh of your bottom lip faces a rough distortion against your teeth while you empty your hands into the cart. It already had drinks, soda cans, and different types of sauces neatly kept. It felt illegal to dump those packets messily into that apple pie setup but when there was a slow appearance of a visible crease along his eyebrows the pit guilt was now filled with surprise and  . . . joy perhaps.

“Alright fine,” You chime with an ear-to-ear smile jocking down to keep those packets of frozen foods in a well-ordered manner. The dull buzz of the air conditioner, the sharp ‘clicks’ when the rotating fans switch its direction, the crinkle of plastic packets inside the cart as you organize it, the low even syncing breaths of you two; then a gruff unfiltered voice turns up in a weak whisper, “This almost feels like a date night, wouldn’t you agree? ” and then, his hand on yours.  Don’t panic. Don’t panic. Don’t panic. You knew this was coming. You were . . . supposed to be prepared for this. It was you who avoided him at first. It was you who created an awkward situation like this. The fact that you saw him under those dim yellow lights in such an intimate manner does not help either. Those moments so unadulterated keep coming back to you in situations like this in flashes. It makes you close your eyes, and blink rashly to be back in all sorts of coherence. 

You look up slowly. His face is close, too close not to do anything—kiss or touch— your forehead against his, rub your cheeks against his. By now your fingers have found a home in between his fingers. He shoves his right hand into his pocket pulling out a half-eaten chocolate out of it and keeping it inside the cart. You feel a strong urge to smile but instead, wet your bottom lip rubbing the back of his palm with your lonely thumb that was not interlaced with his yet.

“Would you like to start over?”

[katnissdoesnotfollowback]

For "Never Have I Ever"

...Chef Peeta/Server or Food Critic Katniss? (Or some such variation of this)

Yes chef? 🫦

Madame. You are already on my shit list for the number of fic idea documents I've added to my drive because of you. Clearly you are determined to badger me into writing this one, and le sigh. I like it. A lot. So much so that I have two options for you:

Option A: When Katniss left her home town at the age of eighteen, she had no intention of returning. Ever. Too many painful memories, like a pregnancy at the age of sixteen that ended in miscarriage. Or her father's death while she was still grieving the loss of her baby. Her mother's suicide attempt. The way all of that left her so raw that she destroyed her relationship with her high school sweetheart.

Now Katniss writes a food critique column with her work partner, Gale. They specialize in small restaurants with unique "local flavor." Then their boss assigns them to a newly opened restaurant in her home town, and Katniss begs Gale to do all the work this time. Their boss refuses to let her off the hook once he finds out Katniss grew up in that town, but a last minute family emergency with Gale's mother results in Katniss checking in alone to the only decent hotel in town.

Of course, she didn't do her research and when she calls to make a reservation for that night, she finds out the restaurant she's meant to review closes early on Thursdays. Stuck in town for an extra night, Katniss makes her way to the one decent bar in town. She's already a few drinks in when old news walks through the door.

Despite all the hurt lingering between them, it's clear that the sparks are still there, and Katniss never could resist Peeta Mellark's kind blue eyes or his sweet, shy smile. Which is why, even though a one night stand with her high school sweetheart is a horrible idea, Katniss convinces herself she won't ever see him again anyway.

On Friday night, Katniss eats at what she quickly deems "a hidden gem almost good enough to make me move back home." Enchanted with the food and the ambiance, she asks to meet the chef and is granted her request.

Suddenly, she finds a hundred and one things wrong with the food.

As much as he wishes he had, Peeta knows he's never stopped loving his high school sweetheart. He tried dating other girls after they lost their baby and Katniss left his heart in shreds, but no one seemed able to fill the hollow feeling inside his chest. Which is probably why, when he sees her in Abernathy's Pub, he reverts to his teenage stupidity. Even though she tells him that she's only in town for one night, he still returns flirt and somehow winds up in bed with her.

Of course, it doesn't matter that the sex was incredible, she's still gone when he wakes up in the morning. So he throws himself into his work, the one thing that's kept him sane all these years.

At least until one of his servers bring Katniss into his kitchen, claiming she wanted to meet the chef and introducing her as one of the writers behind the famous Local Flavor food critique column. Small restaurants like his live or die by her reviews, and she's got nothing good to say about his place.

Lovers to haters back to lovers, second chance romance fic. Spicy up front followed by a long, slow simmer.

Option B: For the life of him, Peeta cannot seem to keep a staff in his kitchen. His best friend Delly, the kindest person he knows, has suggested that maybe it's because he's too soft. Too kind, and people take advantage of him. Enter Katniss Everdeen (aka Gordon Ramsey ala Nightmare Kitchen) to whip Peeta's struggling restaurant into shape. Tempers flare and it gets hot in the kitchen until things come to a boil one night while Katniss and Peeta are alone, trying out new recipes. Peeta orders her to do something and she responds the way she's been training his new staff to respond. "Yes chef!" And Peeta discovers that he likes hearing her say that to him... a whole lot more than he should. He wants to find out if there are any other ways he can get her to say it or otherwise moan it...

Spoiler alert. He does find out, and discovers that she likes saying it to him as much as he likes hearing it.

Never Have I Ever

<3 kdnfb

[thesmpisonfire]

okay im here with actual headcanons this time, no misclicks fortunately

soulfire

bad is the pillow of the group because even while freezing cold he's still somehow the warmest, so he is buffered by the whole team. he's always got an arm around someone (usually pac), wings covering as many people as he can and tail wrapped around anyone farther away. pac, tubbo and tina are usually the ones situated close to him

tina and bad are usually the ones make food or drinks that aren't alchoholic. tina obviously brews a bunch of tea during the day and theres not a lot of food but they make do with the crops and resources they have. now that the greens have merged, forever helps out now too as well as fit!

since they couldn't go home before the bounty hunting nerfs, everybody still managed to flock to each other. or at least anyone who wasnt being tracked. and when it was finally time for every to rest, they all curled up in a hole and made it as warm as possible for the new wolves joining them

they have a specific corner for sleeping in and, once everyone is awake or those who aren't can be moved, tina always makes sure that the bedding is fixed. now she has bagi to help her :]

pachalo

because i can never stop thinking about it: bad's collar was handmade by pac but was originally a bit of a joke gift considering the joke about bad being soulfire's guard dog. unbeknownst to the rest of the team, bad wears it constantly underneath his bandanna, expertly hidden. pac's the only one who knows and teases bad lightly for it

before purgatory there were very few people who got to see bad's hair, much less be able to touch it. but now the list of people allowed to touch it has pac added to it

bad likes to rest his head on pac's chest to hear his heartbeat, to make sure he's alive and to pick up on nightmares. he's very careful of where he puts his horns

fitpachalo

fit sometimes, mostly when they've exhausted their energy, bridal carries bad or pac back to base to get proper rest. this happens less with bad cus he's cautious of his energy. the first time it happened though it spooked him completely awake because he was so flustered, pac laughed at him (albiet very sleepily)

considering bad and pac are the more teasing by nature, they make it just a tiiiny bit of a game to see who can fluster fit more. pac is usually the winner 9 times out of 10

when bad gets growly, fit is the only other team member aside from maybe tubbo who's allowed to come near pac. the downside of this is that bad proceeds to get growly over fit as well. -screamingallium

YEAAAA

Under read more bc it got long :]

About the soulfire one where they can't go back home and have to huddle together somewhere, there's actually a secret nook in Soulfires old farm!! Bad made some ghost dirt blocks and hid a small room with emergency chests and a fireplace in case of need. They all huddle there when they can't be safe at home <3

ALSO YEAAAA SLEEP CORNER. At first the new members from green find it weird that they're that rich but all sleep together on a bunch of mattresses and pillows, but soon they notice its because they feel safer and comfier and warmer (even if it's just an illusion) when they sleep on a pile <3

Now to pachalo.

Omg the fucking leash thingnsnfnekgsocksfm yesyes. They know this thing will only last 2 weeks and they're gonna get freaky with it‼️‼️ pac doesn't mind bad being the mad dog but he loves to tease and wait for when bad gets too blood thirsty and he goes "don't make me leash you, bad"

It usually makes bad worse :]

Hgghhhhhh okay so in brazil we have a word called cafuné, cafuné is when you caress/play/scritches someone's hair with lots of care. Pac making cafuné on Bad and listening to him purr <3

Also aaaa bad making sure pac is alive and he will stay alive the entire night... The fear something will take Pac away from him on his sleep bc nothing is sacred in Purgatory

FITPACHALO FITPACHALO

Bad being a flustered mess when Fit just YOINKS him is such an imagery. He immediately tries to squirm away like a cat but eventually gives up

Pac is the KING of making Fit flustered, but Bad and Fit tag team to make Pac a flustered mess

Those are HIS humans (or partially humans) NOW!!! GET AWAY!!!

[donnerpartyofone]

Hello, Sqwincher Zero and I are here to tell you to take this heat wave seriously. I had never heard of Sqwincher Zero before I took this picture with the intention of making fun of its name, but I sure wished I had some later that night. I will not invite you to scrutinize the series of bad decisions that I made yesterday leading up to a serious and avoidable medical emergency, but suffice it to say that none of these decisions were extreme or unusual for a fun grownup weekend. If anything I dialed it back a little, consciously, and I believed I was drinking plenty of water. It wasn't enough. I was feeling fine until I suddenly wasn't. My awareness of being Severely Dehydrated came on very quickly and then the next few hours were a scary nightmare. I am OK this morning and reviewing certain life choices and also our state of emergency preparedness.

I'm an extremely fortunate person. I have access to clean water, good food, and an amazing person who I tricked into marrying me, so someone is there to help me when I can't help myself. I am also in reasonably good health--which perhaps helped lull me into a false sense of security, especially at an age when my health is inevitably, normally changing, but I just haven't been paying that much attention to it.

Last night when things suddenly became very dark, I was struck with the intense and undeniable awareness that I needed emergency intervention. Like I should have called 911. I knew it for a fact. I have never experienced such a thing before. I could not get past the mental block of admitting that I was having an unprecedented physical crisis. Telling my husband to call 911 just seemed too radical. But I thought about it for hours. I even had a whole fantasy like, OK if my husband called 911 what would they ask him? What would they tell him to do? Instead of acting on this I just gave him little instructions one at a time. Let's draw a cold bath, let's move the fan, let's get a bucket, let's get a couple bottles of water, refill them now please. I was thinking very clearly, I was thinking about my temperature, I was monitoring my water intake versus how often I got sick. The one respect in which I was being irrational (besides my series of careless decisions during the day) was that I could not admit that I needed a doctor.

It's really easy to say things like "Don't be a tough guy, take care of yourself," as if the problem is strictly attitudinal. But switching gears into (for lack of a better term) self-care can be extremely psychologically complex. Being macho or too proud is one thing. Being habitually, neurotically afraid to frighten or inconvenience other people, or ashamed of drawing attention to yourself, is another thing. Being self-destructive and passively suicidal is yet another thing, with deep and insidious roots that can affect more things about your behavior than you even know. And finally, acknowledging that you are experiencing the paradigm shift of a Real Emergency, which might require scary and expensive and unpredictable new activities to get you out of it, is a whole other thing entirely. This is going to sound like an exaggerated reference point but whenever a serial killer is caught and people start saying that the spouse "must have known", they're not factoring in how hard it is to accept that your whole reality is changing and everything is very serious now. Even if the evidence was glaring, it would be a lot to process. There's even a thing in the book Interview With the Vampire as I recall, where somebody says it has been no big deal for vampires to hide their existence through the ages because humans will do extreme mental gymnastics to convince themselves that everything is normal. This all is more or less what was happening with me while I was refusing to call 911. I mean I knew that I should, I just couldn't make the leap.

I should say that my poor husband had no idea how bad it was. To him it just seemed like I'd had a little too much fun, and he was being patient and attentive. None of this is on him, I didn't explain things until I was out of the woods. One thing I feel bad about, that I rarely think about even though it's majorly true, is that not taking care of yourself can frequently, inevitably become someone else's problem. It cannot always stay private and contained forever; if you are incapacitated somehow, you will become someone else's chore.

I want to repeat that I didn't do anything that a normal adult wouldn't do on a Friday night. None of my actions were that extreme in and of themselves; I didn't even have alcohol in my system anymore by the time this struck. But I was not factoring in the weather, or my age, or anything like that that would have been important. We don't have an air conditioner at the moment because we have been luxuriating in our new well-ventilated apartment and enjoying the fact that we can survive with just box fans. I radically underestimated the potential consequences of just toughing it out and going about my business. I need to think more carefully about such things, and mentally reorient myself on preparing for emergencies instead of just reacting "if anything comes up". And I should also supplement our first aid supplies with something that isn't just for cuts and colds. I'm lucky I had cold, clean water, but at some point I really needed electrolytes and vitamins, and there was just nothing to be done for it late at night. I have a lot more thinking to do on this general topic, but it's time for me to get up and drink more water. And maybe go buy some Sqwincher Zero.

[44-moved-44]

I haven't been so excited for the next day since the day before I met my online friend in-person cos she was in-town /vvvpos

Finally…… I'll be like those scrubs who know what it's like to have your own room…… your own privacy…… Your own space, to decorate and to cherish and to accommodate you and only you and to be alone without hearing your brother scream at his video games well past three in the morning and be forced to listen to your drunk mother force you into conversation when you're trying to sleep…… among other not-as-mostly-mundane, more actually abusive things.

I'm genuinely so excited. I've gone my entire life NEVER knowing what privacy was like. I have NEVER had my own room before, not even at hotels, not even at friends' houses, not even on vacation or in psychiatric wards. I'm finally going to have my own space. I'm so tired of my family condescendingly telling me how they eavesdrop on my conversations and make fun of me for private things I tell my friends that I didn't want them knowing, or having to sit there as they barge into my conversations and talk over my friends and force me to include them in discussions that were personal to me.

I'm going to get to pace somewhere where I won't be told to shut up, or passive-aggressively told to "take a breath" as I'm infodumping, or angrily told to go somewhere else where there was no where else, or listen to someone play an audio recording of their co-worker ranting about how I never shut up and to shut up because they trashtalked me to their co-worker and they sent them that audio recording to play when I'm too loud (yes, that was something that happened).

I'm gonna get to have my own space that will stay clean because I won't have a brother to trash the room, and I won't be forced to clean the entire room while the other two sit there and do nothing because "I don't care, you're being selfish" when I only want to clean my side of the room and want my brother to be responsible for the mess he made. It will be clean, cold, and styled just how I want it to be styled. I can have somewhere to escape my family after having had zero escape my entire life.

Zero escape from condescending remarks, zero escape from being called many profanities and told I was "the bane of my mother's existence for years" when I was in third grade, zero escape from being left no food as my uncle-in-law bought delicious food for his side of the family and cheap bootlegs and sensory-nightmare microwave food that my brother would devour within half a week anyway as I went days at a time without food, reliant on begging my friends to order me something to eat with practically nothing to give back, zero escape from my mother drinking two boxes of alcohol in a day and drunkenly insulting me and going on long rants why I'm the cause of all her problems and how I ruined hers and my brother's life, zero escape from when that alcohol and her abuse of her prescription medicine would cause her to have medical episodes and I had to be the one to call emergency services on her and supervise her, with her either being completely ungrateful or only briefly grateful before going back to how she always was, the rest of my family snapping at me and berating me for "enabling her addictions", zero escape from a horribly trained dog that would loudly bark countless times in an hour and growl and chase after me while being screamed at to shut up by the same people who taught him to act this way, zero escape from CPS who told me to be more grateful and to help around more and threatening me just how my mother would and failing me every time, zero escape from bug infestations that would crawl all over me as I slept and waking up to bites all over my body.

That's not even it.

That's not even half of it.

It's only my mother and brother now. I can live with that. They'll leave me alone.

I have my own room now. Half the family will be gone from my life.

Everything will get better now.

This is the brightest light I've seen in such a grim tunnel hued with eigengrau that I've been limping through for years.

What such cruel tricks whatever entity spun my frail life with, they're coming to an end. I just know it.

I'm happy.

Things will be better.

I finally made it this far, and I'm going to be rewarded for it.

I'm finally happy.

[queen-of-the-avengers]

In The Before

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.5k

Warnings: angst, character being dusted

Request by anon: Angst with steve and vixen . Both gone off the track after accords vixen goes with steve and all else went good both layed low even married in secret . Angst comes in the form of Fucking thanos  , its the fight at wakanda shes next to steve while everyone is on the feild when the dust settle grim reality that the bad guy won . Both bucky called to steve but before he steped bucky disapeared . Vixen walked found steve to her horror steve sees his wife vixen disapear while whispering "i love y-" she turned to ash before finishing. 

Summary: The fight of your life is here and you'll do anything to protect Vision and the stone in his head. However, you've never faced an enemy like Thanos before.

Squares Filled: "This isn't a back alley. This is war." (2020) for @star-spangled-bingo

Cat and Mouse Masterlist

Author’s Note: i didn't go into too much detail about the fight at Wakanda and with Thanos since we've all seen Infinity War and we all know how the fight goes.

x

This dingy and run-down apartment isn’t the best place you’ve lived in but it’s a roof over your head. Right now, you and Steve will take what you can get. It’s been tough after the fight about the Accords. Tony made half the team fugitives so you and Steve are living outside the country against the law. If you’re caught, the government will treat you like hard-core criminals and lock you up for good.

You’re on your own here.

You take the microwavable food from the kitchen and walk over to the table where Steve is. He hasn’t looked the same since the big fight with Tony. He looks broken, a shell of the man he once was. It breaks your heart to see him this way, and it hurts even more knowing the team is broken up. A team that once stood together to fight what others couldn’t is now disassembled.

“You should eat something,” you say and place the food in front of him.

He looks up at you and gives a half smile before taking a bite. He misses his friends. He hates how the entire situation played out and wishes he could go home.

“How are you feeling?”

“Me? I’m doing alright.”

“I mean with Hydra. No trouble with them?”

“Not since I left Wakanda.”

It’s true. You’ve been free from their mind control for a few years now. It’s been so quiet inside your head, and you welcome the silence even if you didn’t at first. Bucky hasn’t been with you two since the Avengers broke up, but you keep tabs on each other since he has the same fears as you. What if Hydra got ahold of you again? Could they put that back inside your head? Could you be a puppet again?

Zemo hasn’t been seen since you let him go. You haven’t had the desire to go after him like you promised you would. Seeing the fear on his face when you caught him was punishment enough. He will always be looking over his shoulder for you since you can come from anywhere, and that’s enough to satisfy you right now.

“How are the others? You were gone all day,” you ask and eat.

“Buck is doing as well as he can. He’s still having nightmares. Nat and Sam are helping him through it. Wanda and Vision are still off the grid. Nat has regular check-ups with them so I’m not too worried.”

“I’m glad she has someone like Vision. He gave up what he believed in to be with her. If that’s not love, I don’t know what is.”

“I know it’s rough right now, but we’ll find a better place than this. I’ll give it a few years before we can go home.”

“Believe it or not, this isn’t much different than the missions I went on. Bucky and I used to stay in places like this. Though, if we’re going to continue to live here, then we need a proper bed instead of a mattress on the floor.”

Steve laughs at this. “We’ll get one together tomorrow.”

After dinner, you two head to bed together. It’s another rough night but you make the most of it. In the morning, Natasha calls the phone you reserved for emergencies only. Wanda and Vision are in trouble. Bruce and Tony are in trouble in New York. Apparently, someone named Thanos is on a mission to get all six Infinity Stones, and one of them happens to be in Vision’s head.

Vision and Wanda are located in Scotland so that’s where you and Steve meet up with Nat, Bucky, and Sam. Two of Thanos’ children are after the stone in Vision’s head, but they can’t take on all six of you at once. Wanda and Vision did most of the fighting before you were able to get to them, so your team made the finishing move that caused one of them to be stabbed by his own spear. They left back into their alien ship before leaving.

“What the hell is going on? Who were those people?” you ask.

“I don’t know but they want the stone. Vision has been injured,” Wanda panics.

“What are we going to do?” you ask Steve.

“We go home.”

Looks like you’re going home after months of leaving it behind. You’re not sure what you’re going to walk into when you touch back down in New York, but you have to be prepared for anything. However, nothing prepared you for what you came across. Dr. Strange, Tony, and Peter have been sucked into an alien spaceship that was trying to take the time stone.

It doesn’t matter who you’re talking to or not, Earth needs defending from everyone available.

Thanos tried to get Vision’s stone once and failed, so you know he will be back with more reinforcements later. The only place on Earth that might be able to handle the fight is Wakanda. They are more than happy to assist your team in the fight that is likely to come.

“How are we going to do this? They’re not going to stop until they get that stone.”

“What if we remove it from Vision? He’s more than the stone, anyway. Can he survive without it?” you ask Shuri.

“It’s not going to be easy but I think I can separate the stone from him. It’s going to take time.”

“How much time do you need?” Steve asks.

“As much as you can give me.”

“Alright, Wanda, you gotta stay up here and protect the stone. You’re the only one with the power to do so. The rest of us are going to be on the field. They’re not going to go easy on us so we aren’t either. This isn’t a back alley. This is war,” Steve says.

“You heard him. Let’s go,” T’Challa says and walks toward the door. “Someone, get his man a shield!”

You along with everyone else line up on the battlefield just as alien ships come crashing to Earth. They try to hit the Wakanda barrier but explode on impact since they can’t get through it. Most of the ships land outside of the barrier, and a bunch of alien dogs come rushing out savagely. They try to get through the barrier but are killing themselves when the barrier slices right through them. For every five that are killed, one of them gets through.

This is going to be the fight of your life, and you channel your inner Vixen for this fight. You use every weapon at your disposal, every skill Hydra beat into you, and every gun that is handed to you. You’re giving the aliens everything you’ve got but it doesn’t seem to be enough. Only when Thor comes from wherever he was, does the fight seem fair. He has a new axe that replaced the hammer his sister broke, and he uses it to kill as many aliens as he can.

At one point, Wanda is forced out of her hiding space to help in the fight, and that’s when Thanos strikes. He sends the two aliens whom Wanda fought in Scotland to grab the stone. Most Wakandans stay in the field to keep most of the aliens busy while your team heads to the other side of the place where Vision is.

“Hey, are you okay?” you ask Vision and go to his side.

“He’s coming whether we like it or not. You should all get out of here.”

“We’re not leaving you. Eyes up, everyone,” Steve says.

It didn’t take long for Thanos to come with the time stone. He must have persuaded Dr. Strange to give it to him, but it’s unlikely he did it without violence. Steve tries to fight Thanos and loses. Natasha and Bruce try and they fail. T’Challa tries and fails. Bucky, Groot, and Rocket try and fail. You try and fail.

The only person stopping Thanos from getting the stone is Wanda, and she uses her magic to keep him back as she uses her magic to destroy the stone. It’s breaking her heart to hurt the one she loves but it has to be done. The stone must be destroyed so that Thanos can’t use it.

However, he has the time stone so after Wanda successfully destroys the stone, Thanos puts it back together just so he can steal it. He kills Vision right in front of Wanda and acquires the stone. He does what he set out to do years earlier.

He snaps his fingers.

Thor managed to lodge his axe into Thanos’ chest but that doesn’t stop Thanos from actually snapping his fingers, and then he disappears using the space stone. Your team is left to pick up the pieces after the big war.

“Is that it? Did we lose?” you ask and stand up.

Silence befalls Wakanda. Thanos got what he wanted. There is no need for the fight any longer. The alien dogs that are still alive retreat. Something doesn’t feel right. Thanos wanted to wipe out half of the universe.

“Steve?” Bucky says.

You and Steve look at him and see him turn to dust. You look to your right and see Groot turn to dust. Wanda turns to dust. T’Challa turns to dust. You look down and see your hand start to turn to dust.

“Steve?” you gasp and look at him.

“Y/N? No!”

“I love y--”

You turn to dust completely, leaving Steve and the remaining Avengers all alone.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[lastbluetardis]

Sacred New Beginnings (20/?)

Summary: James Noble thought he traded away his chance at love and a happy-ever-after when he signed a contract with a record label that turned him into an international celebrity. But a chance meeting in a dive bar may prove him wrong. Ten x Rose AU This Chapter: Teen, ~5600 words AO3 || Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3 | Ch4 | Ch5 | Ch6 | Ch7 | Ch8 | Ch9 | Ch10 | Ch11 | Ch12 | Ch13 | Ch14 | Ch15 | Ch16 | Ch17 | Ch18 | Ch19 |

All hell breaks loose in the hallway: cameras flash, voices shout, and Rose is frozen at the door. James springs into action at once, flying to her side and swallowing the sudden nausea that threatens to buckle his knees.

How did they find him? How do they know where Rose lives? How do they know her name?

“Get back. Get inside,” he says woodenly, grabbing Rose’s arm and pulling her away from the cameras that are snapping dozens and dozens of photos. There’s a delivery person standing at the threshold, holding a travel tray of drinks and a bag of food. James takes them from him. “Thanks, mate.”

He utterly ignores the paparazzi, who are shouting his name and hers while asking all sorts of questions, and instead slams the door behind him.

Fucking hell. This is it; his worst nightmare is coming true. He’s been found, and Rose has been found, and now the entire world will know her name and her face and where she lives.

“How did they find me?” she whispers, her voice brittle.

She’s pale as a sheet, white as a ghost—or maybe he’s got that backwards?—and she’s clutching at the front of her robe, as though people are still trying to sneak a photo of her in such a state of undress. Righteous fury rises up in him, and he has half a mind to go out into the hallway and roar at the parasites who thought it proper behavior to snag a cheeky photo of himself and Rose during their private hours together. He wants to rage at them that they ought to be ashamed of themselves for any pictures they got of Rose in her dressing gown.

He drops the breakfast he no longer wants onto the kitchen island and stalks back to the bedroom for his phone. The sheets and pillows are rumpled from their morning activities, a mockery of the peace that’s been shattered to oblivion.

The moment he turns off the “do not disturb” setting on his phone, it blows up in his hand. All the notifications he’d seen and ignored from an hour earlier are from Donna, who tried to warn him about the circus in the corridor. Twitter and Instagram banners are warring with each other for the top spot as the newest notification, and he’s getting dozens of texts amidst the series of missed calls from his team.

He slumps down onto the mattress and rings Donna, but he’s vibrating with so much tension and energy that he springs to his feet a moment later and begins pacing.

His cousin answers within seconds. “You’re in a steaming, heaping pile of shit!”

“What happened?” he demands, voice cracking. “What the fuck happened?”

“I don’t know. Something must have happened in the middle of the night. We’re working on putting the pieces together. When I woke up this morning, I found all sorts of rumors and speculations that mentioned Rose by name.”

“They’re outside her fucking flat!” he snarls. “A whole fucking swarm of them!”

“I know,” Donna grits out. “New photos are emerging. Jesus Christ… in your bloody pants?!”

“I didn’t realize we were opening the door to the fucking wolves,” he seethes. “We just wanted to order breakfast. Rose opened the door. She opened the door in her dressing gown and everyone saw her like that and they took pictures and called her by name and… Fuck, Donna. What am I supposed to do?”

His legs give out, and he pulls on his hair until it hurts. It’s just like before, when he had awoken to an empty bed and a whirlwind of notifications that nude photographs of him had been leaked and gone viral across the internet. But it’s so much worse now because it’s Rose, the person who has become his best friend, the one good thing in his life, the person who deserves the absolute best from this world.

“I’m on my way to her flat right now.” Donna’s tone is painfully gentle, and it makes him want to snap at her. “So’s half your security team. How’s Rose? Is she all right? How’s she handling this?”

James is now painfully aware he left Rose all alone in the kitchen without saying anything at all to her. His chest hollows out and he’s desperate to be with her, to hold her close and apologize for everything that’s happening, to promise her he’ll fix this.

“Call me when you get here,” he says, then he ends the call and flies down the hall.

Rose is sitting on the couch, scrolling through her phone with her forehead in her hand. He aches for her, and he forces his anger to soften so he doesn’t make this worse for her.

She hears him approaching and glances up with an emotionless expression. Her voice is hollow when she says, “The game’s up. We’re everywhere.”

She hands her phone to him, and part of him doesn’t want to look, but he takes it anyway. It’s a Twitter page—she has a Twitter?—and it’s full of them. He grinds his teeth together when he sees her shocked face in the photos, dressed in nothing but a satiny pink dressing gown that barely disguises the fact she’s naked underneath. Then there’s him in his boxer-briefs and rumpled t-shirt, with mussed hair and swollen lips and a ring of red around his neck that makes it so painfully obvious they’d just had sex.

Fuck fuck fuck.

“Rose, I’m…” I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

Her phone buzzes in his hand before he can start reading any of the articles that are popping up across the Twitter feed.

“Everyone’s calling me,” she murmurs, taking her phone back from him and declining the call. “Friends. Coworkers. My boss.”

“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” he croaks, sinking to a crouch in front of her. He covers her trembling hands with his and brings them to his lips to press kiss after kiss to her knuckles. 

She nods absently but doesn’t say anything. The silence between them is stifling, so different from the lighthearted laughter of her bedroom that morning.

“Donna’s coming over, as is my security team. They’ll get rid of everyone outside.”

“What’s the point? They’ll just come back.”

Yes, they will. James doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know how to fix this, but the one thing he can do is take care of Rose right now. He knows all too well the state of shock she’s in, and when he’d been in her shoes, all he’d wanted was for someone to tell him exactly what to do and exactly what to say.

“Why don’t you get a shower?” he suggests, rising to his feet and tugging at her hands.

She doesn’t resist but also doesn’t speak, and he ignores the panic in his gut that’s telling him that everything is ruined, that everything he built with Rose is crumbling to ash.

“A nice, hot shower,” he says, guiding her through her bedroom and into the bathroom. He even goes so far as to turn the water on for her, testing the temperature until it’s just shy of scalding, exactly how she likes it.

Rose is staring straight ahead at nothing in particular. He brushes his arm down her sleeve and asks, “Can I take your robe off?”

“Oh. Right. Yeah. Sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” he promises, unlacing the feeble knot Rose had hastily made.

Rose covers his hands, and for the first time, she meets his gaze head-on. “Neither do you.”

He merely shrugs, but Rose catches his hand and squeezes. “James. Look at me.” He doesn’t want to, but he does nevertheless. Her eyes are so gentle that it makes something twist deep in his chest. “This isn’t your fault. Okay? It’s not your fault.”

She then wraps her arms around him, and he melts into her. They cling to each other, not speaking, but simply being present together. He tucks his face into the side of her neck, breathing her in, and trying to quiet the fears screaming at him that it’s all over.

“I’m sorry,” he rasps. “I never wanted this to happen. Not like this.”

“I know.”

They stay in the embrace for several moments longer, listening to the pitter-patter of the water beating down on the floor of her shower.

James eventually leaves her to wash up in peace, and when she’s done, he showers too. He doesn’t have any of his own soap or shampoo here, so when he’s finished, he smells exactly like Rose. It’s comforting enough to soothe the raw nerve from the morning’s events.

He dresses in the same clothes as yesterday, wishing he had something else to change into, and when he joins Rose in the kitchen, he’s relieved to see her picking at a croissant. Well, it looks more like she’s shredding it, but he convinces himself she swallowed down a few bites.

She offers a weak smile that he tries to return.

“Has Donna called?” he asks, jutting his chin to his phone.

Rose shakes her head. “People keep knockin’ on the door. Haven’t even looked to see who it is.”

“Good. Don’t open the door yet. Not until Donna and my team get here.” He rubs his fingers into his eyes. “Have you read any of the articles yet?”

“Some,” she admits. “It’s all the same: you’ve been datin’ a nobody called Rose Tyler for the past few weeks.”

“You’re not a nobody!” he squawks.

She snorts humorlessly. “Better than bein’ called a whore.”

“Excuse me?” His tone is icy as rage sparks through him.

She shrugs. “Some people think I’m a hired escort for you while you’re in London. Seems an even split of opinions, honestly. There’s a poll goin’ viral on Twitter about it.” She scrolls through her phone. “Girlfriend is winning over escort, 55% to 45%.”

“I hate people,” he growls under his breath. But then he sobers and says, “Try not to read anything on the internet. I know it’s tempting, but please don’t. It won’t do you any favors. People can be quite nasty under the mask of anonymity. They’ll say whatever they want to sell the story that’ll make them the most money. Some of my fans can be brutal too, thinking they know what’s best for me. Please just… just try to stay off Twitter.”

“Everyone’s followin’ me now, too. Ten thousand new followers and climbing. Five hundred and more DMs. It’s made Twitter unusable. I haven’t even checked Instagram yet.”

“Fuck,” he groans, beating the heels of his hands into his brow. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” she reminds him.

“Yes it is,” he snaps. “If you were dating a normal bloke, nothing like this would ever happen to you. It’s because it’s me that your life is being thrown upside down and torn apart for everyone to scrutinize. I’m a disease, infecting everyone around you, and it finally got to you now, too.”

“Well, tough. If I wanted to date a normal bloke, I’d date a normal bloke. But I decided I want you, you numpty, and you’re not responsible for anyone else’s behavior other than your own, so stop blaming yourself for everything that’s happening.”

James wants to keep arguing, even though he doesn’t know why. He doesn’t want to fight with Rose, but this sympathy, this acceptance, this forgiveness… it’s almost too much to bear. It’s easier to lash out, to put the blame on himself, to infuriate everyone else around him until they, too, blame him.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he instead mutters.

Her eyes flash with a hint of anger. Good. It’s time for the mask to fall away, time for her to stop seeing him as blameless.

But rather than condemn him as he expects, Rose says, “Don’t you dare accuse me of ignorance. I knew exactly what I was signing up for by being with you. And I won’t lie, it scares the hell out of me, but I decided ages ago that you’re worth it. So don’t treat me like a child who doesn’t know better, ‘cos I do.”

He snaps his mouth shut before he can say something incredibly stupid. And as though to save him from himself, his phone chimes from the kitchen island with the name Donna Noble printed in bright white letters.

“Are you here?” he asks without greeting.

“Obviously. We’ve got half your team here and the other half is at your house. We’ve got some police with us to help disperse the crowd. It’s a zoo out here.”

He can hear it: a cacophony of voices shouts indistinctly from the other end of the line, and he can hear several people barking at them to back up and clear some space.

“Should I come down…?”

“Don’t you dare,” she warns. “Stay exactly where you are. Who’s the landlord of the building, by the way? We should probably let them know of this fiasco.”

He sighs. “It’s Rose’s father. Well. Stepfather. Tyler Peters.”

Donna pauses for a beat, then says, “At least he’ll be easy to get ‘hold of. Right. Stay on the line with me ‘til we get upstairs.”

James listens to every chaotic second of Donna’s trek, from the shouts in the background to her telling people exactly where they can shove their cameras.

“Bloody hell, we can barely get through this corridor. Oi, move it! This is a fire hazard, this is! Back up back up back up back up, oi, hands to yourself!”

If he wasn’t so miserable, he might have laughed to hear his cousin yelling at everyone who came within two feet of her. Alas, he stays quiet and steps up to the door, ready to welcome her in.

“We’re here, knock knock knock.”

As she says the words, three hard bangs rattle the front door. He peeks behind his shoulder to make sure Rose is well out of sight before he cracks open the door. The moment he’s visible, the shouting grows louder and the paparazzi snag more photographs. A combination of some of his security team and police officers have forced them several meters away from the door, yet it’s still close enough for them to get some good shots.

Donna, River, and a junior agent named Adric steps into the flat before he slams the door shut again. Within moments, he’s being pulled into his cousin’s arms. He hugs her tight and rests his chin on her shoulder.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispers into his ear, giving him a squeeze.

He drops his arms from around her, prompting her to release him, and when he pivots towards Rose, he finds River perched on the couch next to her, speaking softly.

“The plan is to get you back to your house,” Donna says, shifting from concerned cousin to professional publicist in an instant. “Unless you wanted to go somewhere else?”

“I haven’t thought about it,” he says, “but I can’t leave Rose here.”

At the sound of her name, she locks eyes with him.

“You… you’re more than welcome to come home with me, but you don’t have to, if you’d prefer to be somewhere else. I don’t think you should stay here alone, but if that’s what you truly want, I can arrange for officers to stay here with you.”

She shakes her head. “No. I’m comin’ with you. I should… I’ll pack a bag.”

Rose stands and brushes past them to head down the hall, but he catches her hand and says, “Take your time. There’s no rush.”

With that, she heads to her bedroom, shutting the door behind her.

He sighs and scrubs his hands down his face. “This sucks.”

“Yeah, it does. Of all the ways I thought you’d be found out, this wasn’t it,” Donna admits.

“Did you figure out what happened?” he asks.

Donna hesitates for a moment, biting her lip.

“What? Tell me. I deserve to know who violated our privacy like this.”

“Please keep in mind that it was an accident,” she prefaces, but already he’s getting angry at this mystery person who leaked Rose’s identity to the whole world. “Apparently it was Rose’s mother.”

That stuns him enough that his anger is abruptly gone, replaced with confusion and a cloying emptiness in the pit of his stomach. He knew Jackie had despised his very essence, but he never would have thought she would’ve put her own daughter at risk…

“An accident?” he asks skeptically.

“A report went in to a magazine reporter in the middle of the night. Two girls who live here overheard Jackie Tyler say that her daughter was dating James Noble; she was quite upset about it, mind. I take it you didn’t make a good first impression?”

“Not the time, Donna,” he snaps.

She holds her hands up and lets that subject drop before she says, “The girls passed along the conversation as a tip. Early this morning, the magazine did some digging, trying to verify the information. That digging leaked to other tabloids, and it all snowballed ‘til everyone showed up here to find out for themselves.”

He groans and digs the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Great. Just fucking great. And what’s this about people thinking Rose is a hired escort?”

Donna rolls her eyes. “Elitist arseholes who don’t think she’s good enough for you since she’s not rich or famous.”

“Didn’t help they caught her in her dressing gown,” he mutters murderously.

Donna winces. “No, it didn’t. But this is fixable. The flurry of speculation will run its course over the weekend, and once it’s out of everyone’s system, you can start setting the record straight.”

“I don’t want to set the record straight, I want things to go back the way they were before!”

He’s well aware he’s whining like a child, but he can’t help it. It’s like if he just gets angry enough, things will go back to normal.

Never mind the fact that he’s tried that before, and it has never worked.

Rose emerges from her bedroom with a suitcase in her hand. She eyes them tentatively, as though catching on to the bitter mood that has settled over the kitchen, but says nothing. Instead, she sets her suitcase down and gathers up her laptop and a stack of papers and notebooks, which she shoves into a backpack.

“I’ve got to do some lesson planning,” she explains to nobody.

“Of course,” he says. “No problem.”

“Has there been any more news?” she asks, striving to keep her voice nonchalant.

“News?” he squeaks, then clears his throat to force his voice back to his normal register.

“About what happened? How it happened?” Rose peeks up at him through her lashes, gnawing on the corner of her thumb with such force he’s worried she’s about to rip her cuticle off.

He reaches out to thread his fingers through hers, tugging them away from her mouth as he lies, “No. Nothing yet.”

“Right. Good. Yeah.” She finishes packing up her school bag, then smooths her hand down her fuzzy blue cardigan. “Do I look all right? Is this okay?”

It’s only now that he realizes she applied a full face of makeup. The red of her lipstick makes her lips look more kissable than usual, and the arc of eyeliner makes her beautiful eyes utterly sparkle. His heart trips over its next beat.

“You’re perfect,” he promises, bending to kiss those ruby lips for a fraction of a heartbeat.

She smiles slightly into the kiss before she pulls back. “Don’t smudge it.”

“Yessir,” he says gravely, snapping off a silly salute.

She laughs, and for a moment, they both forget about the morning, and it’s just like any other day together. But then River approaches to usher them toward the door, and the illusion breaks.

As Rose shrugs into her coat, James excuses himself down the hall to her spare room-turned-library. He immediately goes to the shelf he remembers Rose saying housed her favorite books, and he picks two of them at random, then grabs two other random books from the bookcase she’d said held all the books she hasn’t read yet. He can’t give her peace, but he can try to give her the comfort that comes with losing oneself in a book.

Everyone’s waiting by the door, staring quizzically at him. Rose is the first to notice what he’s carrying, and her entire face softens.

“I… I thought maybe you’d want to do a bit of reading,” he blurts. “And I didn’t know if you’d like what I have on my bookshelves. So I thought… books.”

“Books,” she repeats quietly. Then she meets his eye and says, “I love books.”

He smiles, then draws in a deep breath. “Ready to face the wolves?”

“Awoo,” she halfheartedly replies.

James slips his free arm around her waist then nods to River to open the door. Several officers have created a barricade with their bodies, keeping the horde of reporters out of arm’s reach, but there’s nothing to be done about the cameras, which begin to click and flash the moment he and Rose emerge.

He bends down until his lips are at Rose’s ear and says, “Keep your eyes on the ground and keep walking. Don’t react. You’re doing brilliantly.”

She follows his instructions to the letter, keeping her head bowed while they slowly amble down the corridor and to the lifts, with the police officers and security agents creating a bubble of protection around himself and Rose.

The main foyer of the building is just as bad, and outside is even worse because now regular people have gathered by the hundreds to try to catch a glimpse of him and Rose. Everyone is shouting his name, and some are shouting hers, asking how they met, how she snagged him, how long they’ve been together. Some questions are less polite.

“Ignore them,” he whispers again, fuming at the sight of her crimson cheeks. “It’s okay. We’re almost to the car. We’ll be getting into the back seat. You first, behind the driver.”

He keeps his hand planted on her spine as they walk to the car, where the back doors are open for them.

“In you go. Slide all the way over. Take your time. No rush.”

Once Rose is settled into her seat, he climbs in beside her, mindful of the books he’s carrying. The din of fans and paparazzi lessens when the door shuts behind him, but the buzzing in his head is loud enough anyways.

It’s slow going for his driver to get some distance between the crowd, but after a few minutes, they speed for his house amidst the sparse morning traffic. James is disheartened to see another crowd of fans and reporters on his street, crowding around his driveway. More police officers and his security agents have formed a barricade, but it doesn’t help the screams and shouts of his name.

I need to get a new house. Somewhere secret. Somewhere easier to protect.

His heart sinks to see that his security team has set up an entire perimeter around his property to control the swarm of people wanting to stick their nose in his business. He led Rose out of one hell and into another.

A soft, warm hand slips across his, rubbing soothing lines along his knuckles. He clutches Rose’s hand as though it can anchor him to the present, keeping the swarm of darkness at bay.

Inch by inch, the driver pulls the car into his garage and closes the door behind them, giving him some privacy. They each get out of the car and step into the house, which feels cold and empty. He heads to the thermostat and cranks it up, wanting Rose to be as cozy as possible in his home, and sets her books onto his huge dining table.

“Right,” Donna says, breaking the brittle silence around them. “Not much else to do, is there? Let the story run its course. If you’re feeling cheeky, post a statement on social media, or a cute photo of the two of you. Or let the paparazzi shoot themselves in the foot; already your fans are getting hashtags trending, outraged on your behalf at the photos they took.”

Usually James is uplifted to hear about his fans being good people, but apathy is all he can manage. He’s been hollowed out, exhausted beyond mere physical fatigue.

“Thanks,” he says, pulling Donna in for another hug. “I think we want to lay low for a bit.”

He receives a nod of agreement from Rose.

“Fair enough. Oh, your mum’s on her way here. She heard about the news a few minutes ago and couldn’t get ‘hold of you, so she let me know.”

James frowns and stares at his phone, which he now realizes has been oddly silent for the duration of the car ride home. The screen stays black, no matter how many times he presses the power button. All the notifications blowing up the device must’ve drained the battery.

“Can I get you anything?” Donna asks. “Either of you? Rose? You doing okay?”

“I think so,” she answers. Rose glances at him, but he has nothing to offer her, so she returns her attention to Donna. “I think we’re okay here. We’ll just… I dunno… stay in.”

Donna casts her a sympathetic look, then she says to him, “Your security team is out in force, so are several local police officers. We think the crowd will die down a bit once they realize you’re being hermits for the weekend. But security will be vigilant. I trust you know better than to sneak off on your own anywhere?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know the drill.”

“One last piece of business,” Donna says. “As your publicist, I feel obligated to confirm the news that you and Rose are, in fact, dating. Is that all right? It’ll be as simple as that. No details, no photos, just an announcement.”

“Sure, fine, whatever,” he says, waving his hand at her. “You know best.”

“Damn right I do,” she says, but he can see the gentleness in her face that threatens to break the delicate grip he has on himself.

With one last comforting squeeze of his arm, Donna departs, leaving him and Rose alone. But are they really alone, when dozens upon dozens of his fans and paparazzi reporters are making a muffled commotion outside? Would it help if he goes outside and requests they leave him alone?

(He knows it won’t… he’s tried that before.)

So where does that leave him? He feels like he’s going to burst out of his skin. He’s radiating with so much tension that he’s not sure how he hasn’t detonated. Despite being the largest house he’s ever lived in, the space feels too small, too cramped, like there’s not enough air for him to breathe.

James begins to pace a frenetic circuit around his living room where he mindlessly picks things up and puts them down in a new location. Yes, redecorating, that’s exactly what he needs. He needs to move things, to do something, to put all his energy into not thinking about the sordid photos going viral and the gross accusations people are making about Rose and…

“Hey, slow down.”

Rose steps in front of him and takes the bookends—that admittedly shouldn’t be relocated off his bookcase—out of his hands and sets them on the coffee table. (Bookends don’t go on coffee tables, Rose, what are you thinking?)

“Talk to me,” she pleads.

“And say what, exactly? This whole morning has been a scene straight out of my fucking nightmares?”

“Yes, actually,” she says, and it surprises him enough that he pauses his agitated movements. “Stop trying to pretend everything’s okay, or that you’ll make it okay. ‘Cos it’s not okay. I’m not okay, and I don’t think you are either. But I want you to tell me that, rather than running from me.”

“I’m not running, I’m walking.” Rose pins him with a glare so fierce it steals the rest of his sarcasm straight from his tongue. He sighs and admits, “I’m not fun to be around when I get like this, so I’m trying really hard to be a half-way decent person at the moment.”

“I don’t want you to be a half-way decent person, I want you to be James.” She cradles his cheeks, forcing him to look down at her. “I want you to be my James.”

All the fight goes out of him and all the voices in his head shout on top of one another. He slumps, dipping his head until his forehead rests on hers, and it all spills out of him: how much he hates that this has happened, how much he loathes the paparazzi and some of his nosy fans, how much he wishes he’d been the one to answer her door, how scared he is that this will drive her away, how worried he is about her reputation, how angry he is at everyone who had a hand in outing them. Everything. Every nasty, gnarled thought, and when he finishes his tirade, he’s calmer. Whether that has to do with everything he’d said or the fact that Rose is rubbing his back and nuzzling her nose into his, he doesn’t know, and frankly he doesn’t care.

“There’s my James,” she says, pinching his waist playfully.

“Your James just… just… verbally shat all over you.”

Rose breaks into a giggle and muffles it by burying her face into his chest. He holds her tight and smiles secretly into her hair.

“Thank you,” he whispers. “And I know it’s not my fault, but I’m so sorry this happened.”

“I know. This certainly tops my ‘weirdest day of all times’ list.”

“Oh yeah? What used to hold the number one spot?”

She pulls back and gives him a cheeky grin. “The night a famous singer bought me a drink and asked me to dance.”

“Huh, kinda weird that happened to you twice now,” he teases.

She laughs aloud, and the sound is enough to loosen the knot of tension that continues to wrap around his chest. He ducks down to catch her lips in a sweet kiss.

They pull away after a few moments, and Rose rests her head on his chest, seemingly content to stand there with him. The silence is solemn, but not uncomfortable, and for a moment, James hopes that maybe this means they can come out of this mess unscathed and, more importantly, together.

“It was my mum,” Rose murmurs, the words so sudden that for a moment, James has no idea what she’s talking about.

But then he remembers his conversation with Donna, and swallows hard. “What?”

“My mum,” she repeats, not lifting her head from his chest. “She was so angry when she left last night, and she must’ve complained about it to Dad. And people overheard her. That’s how everyone found out.”

Rose sounds so miserable and dejected that he’s desperate to do anything to take that tone out of her voice.

“It was just a bit of bad luck,” he says, pulling back slightly to try to force her to look at him. She doesn’t; she keeps her eyes level with his chest. He places his fingers beneath her chin and nudges upward, and she finally meets his gaze. “It wasn’t your fault. And it wasn’t your mum’s fault. Those girls didn’t have to send a tip into the papers, but they did. So it wasn’t your fault.”

“But if I hadn’t introduced you to my mum like that…”

“Not. Your. Fault.” He interrupts her by resting his fingertips overtop her lips.

“Still feels like it,” she mumbles around the digits before moving his hand away from her mouth. “I haven’t been brave enough to talk to my mum yet, other than to tell her I’m safe. I dunno what to tell people. My boss is demanding a meeting with me first thing on Monday. And my friends want to know all the details. It’s exhausting. I dunno how you’ve done this for all these years. It’s been two hours, and I want to just… just…”

“Disappear?” he supplies, knowing exactly what she means.

She nods, and sighs.

“Want to know the secret? Distraction.” He darts his eyes around his living room, searching for anything that can get him and Rose out of their heads for a moment, and he lands on his television and gaming consoles. “Right. You and me. Mario Kart tournament.”

Rose pulls back, confusion written across her face. “…Mario Kart?”

“Mario Kart.” He flashes her a wink and clicks his tongue in a way that usually makes her laugh, but only pulls a half-smile from her.

“Sit,” he orders, half-guiding, half-pushing her to the sofa before he turns on his Wii console.

“Hey, you made fun of me for having a Wii,” she grumbles, but she’s smiling, so the words carry no bite.

“Excuse you, this is the next gen Wii,” he boasts, then he comes to sit down beside her with the controllers, which he pops into a steering-wheel-shaped attachment. “No changing the subject. Are you ready to get your arse handed to you in Mario Kart?”

He’s so relieved to see a broad, genuine smile steal across her face that he kisses her soundly. When she kisses him back with equal vigor, warmth blooms in his chest and his toes curl into the plush carpet.

She pulls back after many long seconds and grins devilishly at him. “Oh, you’re so on.”

[moonfurthetemmie]

Untitled.MP4

Previous | Next | First (with warnings)

Part 22

July 1, 20XX_TL_2

Mercury is sitting in front of the camera. Just behind him is Zuli and Jasper, the latter of which is in a hazmat suit. He looks tired, but relieved. As Mercury pulls his hand away from the camera, Jasper gives a small wave.

“So the manor is probably a lost cause,” Mercury starts. “We’re going to find some place to camp out that isn’t here, but first we’re sending everyone out in pairs, once they wake up and I can give them a little check-up, to get anything that they might want to try and salvage. After that, we’re burning the place down.”

“The mold and stuff has done too much structural damage,” Zuli explains. “It’s too risky to try and clean it up. But it’s worse to just leave it like this, even if we are leaving, so…”

“And there’s no food,” Jasper says. His voice is raspy. “Mercury and Zuli said they were living on some of the mushrooms, but the Colony was using those to sustain those of us who were infected. They were meant to help it keep us pumped full of spores, too. Zuli and Mercury are insanely lucky they managed to cook them enough to get rid of the infectious…bits.”

“Even without that, we’re more than happy to give them up,” Mercury says. “In light of the impending exodus, we’ve taken lots of pictures, and I’m preparing extra doses of the vaccine, just in case. One of them I’m going to carry on me, partially to see how long it takes for it to expire, and partially in case of an emergency. Science, and stuff.”

“You know what’s weird?” Jasper suddenly says, his voice quiet. “I think the…the telepathic mushroom thing that we would ‘talk’ to each other on is still there. I can still hear the others’ thoughts and stuff sometimes. Most of them are having nightmares, I think.”

The other two are silent. Jasper looks over at the new ‘wall’ in the office. 

“...I hope that’s not a bad sign,” Mercury mumbles. “The last thing we need is for this thing to come back because the psychic fungus phone network wasn’t destroyed when you got the cure.”

“I think it’s fine?” Jasper sounds unsure. “I certainly can’t hear the colony anymore. I think we are disconnected, at least somewhat. It’s like a…a closed network, I guess?”

Zuli visibly shudders. “That’s horrifying, thank you.”

Jasper looks apologetic. Before he can say anything, a voice comes from the walled-off area. A female voice, by the sounds of it. They sound tired and confused.

“Ugh…Where the hell-?”

The three perk up at the voice. 

“Paraiba’s up!”  Mercury begins gathering things. “Once I’ve given her the OK, you two can go get your stuff. I’ll see about setting up a sink or something in there with peroxide so you can clean off anything you find that you want to keep.”

Jasper nods. “Okay. I’ll keep an eye out for anything Jade might want, too; I don’t think he’ll be able to walk for a while.”

Zuli’s face falls. As Mercury gets up and moves off to the side, Zuli takes his spot at the table in front of the camera. Jasper watches Mercury as he goes.

“Right…So, while he’s doing that…” 

Zuli drags over a laptop from off-camera. “This is going to be the last video, but we want to send our location once we find a place to stay. We want to stay away from populated areas, and hopefully somewhere without a lot of wildlife that can get infected–just in case–but Mercury’s got a recipe or whatever for the vaccine, or cure, or whatever you want to call it, and we’re not going to keep it to ourselves. We know there’s more of this thing out there somewhere. There has to be.”

“Mercury wants to collaborate with other doctors to improve his thing, too,” Jasper says. “Something about not having time to do proper refinement?”

Zuli nods. Mercury, now in one of the hazmat suits, walks back to the new wall, and disappears behind it.  “He said we didn’t have much choice in our case, with our impending doom on the horizon, but if this thing is going to suddenly explode, he wants it to go through testing to make sure it’s 100% safe. Maybe even improve on it in other ways, though I have no idea how that would work.

“So, short version: Peridot, if you’re a person in a place to do something, please reach out to us. If not, see if you can find someone who is. A big health organization or something? I’m not really sure. Obsidian’s apparently been unresponsive for weeks now, so I doubt the fungus leaving his system is really going to get him up and doing his shit again. Even if that were the case, I’m hoping this experience has put the fear of god in him enough that he’ll let us coordinate to find and destroy the rest of this.”

“We’ll send our location, but we’re hoping to avoid meeting anyone in-person,” Jasper pipes up. “Mercury’s not sure if we’re still contagious or not, so anything we can do digitally or online would be best. But if someone does need to come to us, they should wear a hazmat suit or something, just in case. Hopefully it won’t be needed, but. Yeah.”

“I think that’s it, for the most part.” Zuli rubs his chin. “I mean, for the most part, everyone’s doing okay. Aside from Obsidian’s specific deal, the fact that he and Jade’s infections seem to have tried to take their bodies since it couldn’t take their minds, and Koroit, who’s been infected the longest, they’re all recovering pretty well. But Mercury says he’s not surprised Koroit’s case is the worst, since she was infected first. He’s worried about Jade and Obsidian–’worried’ used loosely in Obsidian’s case–but at this point we can’t do much besides wait for them to wake up.”

“I think Mercury said Obsidian’s mental health took the hardest hit,” Jasper muses. “Knowing him, I wouldn’t be surprised. He’s always been weird about control, and he hates the mere idea of seeming weak. And after a certain point, there wasn’t even a way for him to fight back. Probably took a heavy toll on his mind.”

He doesn’t sound particularly sympathetic, or apathetic. He sounds like he’s talking about a stranger who’s misfortune was on the news. Zuli looks just as disconnected from it as Jasper. He makes a vague humming sound of agreement before reaching towards the camera.

“Alright, then. That’s uh…That’s it. Mercury and I look forward to hearing from…whoever’s hands these land in finally. Peridot, someone else…whoever.”

The video ends.

[graceisinthelibrary]

Would you like to do the kissing prompt 41, because the world is saved?

That's one lovely prompts, though I fear I mixed prompt 40 (A kiss because the world ends) and prompt 41 with this one 😂🙈

Darrowby, April 1943 

When Audrey rushed back into the house through the back door it was after seven o’clock. She had spent a long afternoon at Pumphrey Hall with other women who worked for the Women’s Institute, actually the whole meeting had taken far longer than expected and now she was running late. Her head was still spinning from the chatter and - she had to admit it - from the three glasses of sherry. 

The kitchen was empty though, not even the dogs had been waiting for her.

She called out for Siegfried and Helen, but neither of them appeared. Then she yelled after the dogs and they didn’t show up either. Her irritation about the deafening silence grew, but she decided to get on with supper anyway. Usually the smell of food lured them all back into the kitchen sooner or later. She quickly took off her coat and hat and fetched her apron. Thanks to her meticulous planning she only had to warm up some leftovers from the evening before. After she had turned on the radio, she went into the pantry to get out the pots and bowls. With a cheerful tune on her lips she collected everything she needed and almost dropped everything when she turned around and saw Siegfried standing in the doorway. 

“Goodness!” She exclaimed. “You startled me…” She frowned when she noticed the crumpled page in his shaking hand. Travelling up to his face confirmed her hunch that something terrible had happened. His bloodshot eyes and his open waistcoat spoke volumes about his state of mind. He looked like a man who was facing the abyss. The end of his existence. It had been ages since she had seen him in a state like this. When she had first started working for him she had sometimes found him like this in his study in the middle of the night.

Drunk, hopeless, alone, scared. 

In those days she had sometimes not just feared for his sanity, but his life. 

She quickly put the food away and rushed towards him. Fearing for the worst, she tried to free the piece of paper he was holding, but his grip was tight, almost desperate. 

“Is it James?” She asked, her voice thin and shaking. “Don’t tell me it’s Tris…” She cupped his face with both hands and stroked it with all the tenderness her heart harboured for him. “Please, love, talk to me!” She begged. Finally he handed her the letter and she snatched it greedily and scanned the lines as quickly as she could…

“...Shoulder blade…military hospital…passage…Loss of blood…” When she looked up, tears, hot and overwhelming, were swimming in her eyes. “He’s coming home,” she uttered and her fingers were clawing into the back of his neck when she pulled him against her. “He’s alive and he’s coming home, Siegfried.” 

“I know,” he croaked and buried his face in the crook of her neck. His hot tears wetted her skin as he desperately clung to her as if his life depended on it. 

Violent sobs, emerging from the depths of his strong body shook her, but she could take it. He used to call her his stalwart and she drew the strength she needed from that. 

Tris had been heavily injured and soon he would be home, where they could take care of him and love him. They could have lost him, but they didn't. Siegfried's biggest nightmare and his biggest hope combined in one. 

She gently caressed his neck and his back, trying to ease the tension in his muscles while her own tears of relief rolled over her face. 

“If something happened to you, it would be the end of me.” She had never forgotten these words, they had haunted her for the years to come, because if they lost Tris, she would lose Siegfried too. And now it had almost happened and she inwardly cried out her thanks to the Lord, because she had been spared the worst. The end of her little world. 

“I love you,” he whispered into her hair and later against her lips, before he involved her into a long, possessive kiss that sucked the air out of her lungs. She tasted his desperation as well as his deep love for her and kissed him back with everything she had to give. Life affirming fire spread through her veins as he pushed her against the shelf and pulled up her skirt, and the door fell shut behind them. 

Now that one of their boys was coming home again, wounded, scarred and possibly broken, their world felt a bit safer. Not whole, not entirely, because the wounds the war had caused were too deep to be mended, but it was enough to go on in hope. 

[karuvapatta]

Dear readers: I hope you have abandoned all hope of this thing fitting in anywhere within the canon timeline. And also of Jon getting a break anytime soon.

....I'm doing my best to wrap it up I swear ;-;

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

***

The night doesn’t get any more pleasant from there.

Jon spends several long hours in an Emergency Room, gets a CT scan to exclude cranial fracture, a blood test that tells him he’s slightly anaemic, a nurse worried that he’s underweight, comments about his blood pressure and resting heart rate being elevated, some less-than-subtle inquiries about domestic abuse once they see his scars, and a stern reminder to not mix alcohol with the sleeping pills he wheedled out of his GP.

(He wonders, now, if he influenced the GP into prescribing him the pills, or was he just annoying enough that she eventually caved in. He wonders how that power even works.)

They want to keep him in for observation, but after he signs a waiver that he’s aware of the risks and leaves of his own volition, they let him go with little fuss. The ER is busy enough as it is, and Jon is stubborn.

He does pause on his way out; the waiting room is full of mostly elderly people in bad physical shape, a few drunken brawlers, some victims of unfortunate accidents, and other assorted medical emergencies. The one person that stands out to him is a middle-aged woman, sitting unnaturally still in the corner, with wide-open, haunted eyes. She’s been marked by one of the Powers; he knows this. He feels her calling out to him, a promise of a feast for the Eye, brimming with fresh terror and terrible nightmares. It’d take very little to get her to talk—

Their eyes meet. Jon swallows, an involuntary reflex; he can feel the hunger in his stomach, this terrible need to extract a tribute to his patron. And it would nourish him in ways normal food doesn’t seem to anymore. It might even make him whole.

A nurse passes by with a clipboard, and asks the woman a number of questions. Jon flees the waiting room, hating himself every step of the way. He isn’t a fucking misery vampire, to prey on innocent unsuspecting people. He isn’t.

It’s long past daybreak when he finally makes it back to his apartment. He doesn’t even bother undressing, just swallows a pill, throws himself on the bed, and waits for the nightmares to begin.

***

He wakes up around noon with a mild headache and throbbing pain in his cheek. It’s raining outside; the steady beat of raindrops against the windowpane is actually quite soothing.

Jon showers, brushes his teeth, and contemplates breakfast, but the very thought of eating food makes him nauseous. He settles for a mug of herbal tea and watches the rain for a while, holding an ice-pack to his cheek and drumming an erratic melody on the table with his other hand. He wonders if he should make that phone call. He can almost hear Tim calling him insane, Sasha’s attempts at reasoning with him, his own name repeated in Martin’s worried voice. But he can also remember what it felt like to drag the truth out of Tim’s mouth; the mark of the Powers on that unfortunate woman. The Eye’s insistent presence.

He makes that phone call.

“Archivist.”

“Elias.”

There’s a beat of tense silence on both sides of the line. Jon curses himself for not writing down his questions beforehand.

“Sorry for calling on Saturday,” Jon says. “Are you busy?”

“No need to apologize,” Elias says smoothly. “I always have time for you, Jon.”

That is a blatant lie, but Jon lets it slide.

“I hope the gala went well,” Jon says.

“You call me on a Saturday to ask about an event you didn’t want to attend and that you bailed on halfway through?” Elias asks, thankfully more amused than upset.

“Oh! Yes, sorry about that. I, uh,” he contemplates lying, but is too worn out to come up with anything halfway believable. “I felt really awkward. After the. You know.”

“Yes, and maybe sometime next decade Simon Fairchild will stop reminding me of your dramatic escape,” Elias says. “All in all, it went about as well as I could have expected. Don’t worry about it too much.”

“Right,” Jon says, knowing damn well that he is going to worry.

“But this isn’t why you called.”

“No. It isn’t.”

There’s another long, awkward silence, while Jon struggles to formulate his thoughts.

“I think I can force people to answer my questions,” Jon says. “Is that normal?”

Elias has the audacity to laugh at him. The bastard.

“I was wondering when you were going to notice,” he says. “Compelling voice is a crucial ability to fulfil your role as the Archivist. How else could you extract statements from those unwilling to share them?”

He says this as if it was the most ordinary thing in the world.

“That’s—horrifying,” Jon says. “You do realize that it’s horrifying, right?” He takes in a shuddering breath. “Can I control it?”

“Yes. Of course. Now that you are aware of them, controlling your powers should become your next priority.”

“Stop giving me damn homework, Elias! I’m trying to ask for your help!”

The words are out his mouth before he can stop them, but he doesn’t think there’s anything supernatural about it. No; just pure desperation.

Elias sighs. “As lovely as it is to hear your voice, Archivist, I’d rather have this conversation in person. Are you available?”

“What—right now?” Jon asks. “Oh, wait. Is it because you cannot read my mind over the phone?”

“…maybe,” Elias says after a pause.

He files away the information for later. For now, he says, “Yes. I’m available.”

“Splendid. Where should I meet you?”

Jon considers the question. The Institute is the most obvious answer. It’s familiar and relatively safe, and both he and Elias have been known to spend their weekends at work, so it wouldn’t even be that strange. But the thought of always meeting Elias in a place where he holds all the power annoys him to no end. A restaurant, then? But, damn, he doesn’t want to have to dress up for the sort of place that might meet Elias’s standards. Besides, his head spins slightly every time he stands up; he suspects he might end up slipping on the wet pavement and cracking it open.

“I am actually not feeling very well,” he says. “Could you meet me at my place?” Suddenly aware of how it sounds, he hastens to add: “I don’t mean—I’m not trying to suggest anything inappropriate, so please do not read too much into it.”

“Of course. I’ll be there in an hour.”

“Great,” Jon sighs. “I’m assuming you know where I live.”

“I do.”

“Then I guess I’ll see you later,” Jon says.

***

Inviting Elias over might have been stupid, but isn’t much more questionable than any of his other decisions as of late. It’s the sort of baseline stupid Jon is becoming accustomed to.

He spends the time cleaning up and fretting over his clothing. Should he dress up? Which part of the dress code covers this particular situation? He feels like he shouldn’t be meeting his boss in an old band T-shirt and sweatpants, but another, more rational part of his brain points out that he shouldn’t be inviting his boss to his house at all. His outfit is the least concerning aspect of this situation. Intellectually he understands this, but he spends a good while selecting the right combination of sweatpants, shirt, and hoodie. He can’t imagine Elias would take him seriously if he were wearing pyjamas. If he deigns to take him seriously, that is.

His nervous fretting comes to an abrupt stop once the doorbell rings. Right. One hour.

He opens the door, and is greeted with the comical sight of Elias’s tailored suit and expensive coat looking distinctly out of place in the cluttered, dark, narrow corridor of his apartment. But then Elias’s eyes zero in on Jon’s face, and Jon feels suddenly self-conscious.

“Uh. Hi. Come on in. Can I get you something to drink?”

He leads the way to the living room, but doesn’t get very far before Elias stops him.

“Jon,” he says quietly.

Now he is in Jon’s space, looking down at him with an intense, scrutinizing expression in his steel-grey eyes. He smells faintly of rain and laundry detergent, but mostly that cologne he favours, which Jon remembers well from yesterday’s gala. His fingers are on Jon’s chin, gentle but insistent, turning his face up, towards the light; he brushes away the hair from Jon’s face. For a moment it seems inevitable that he will lean down and press his lips against Jon’s; why else would he touch him in this manner?

“What happened?” he asks.

His fingers skim feather-light over the bruise on Jon’s cheek. Jon winces; it’s swollen and tender, and no doubt does little to improve his appearance. He misses the ice-pack, but it was getting too warm so he had to place it back in the freezer for the time being.

“It’s nothing,” he says, a little breathy. He’s trying not to inhale too much of Elias’s scent, in case it makes him do something above-baseline stupid. “Just a bruise. It’ll fade.”

Elias’s lips are pressed thin, his brows knitted together. His eyes flare; for a moment, Jon could swear they changed colour into something deeper, vibrant, otherworldly; that they can suddenly see much, much further than Jon’s own face.

“Timothy Stoker did this to you?” Elias asks. His voice is pitched low, in cold fury; it sends a tremor through Jon’s body, an instinctive reaction to flee. But he can’t quite move, Elias’s hand and gaze pinning him in place, as gentle as they are insistent.

“We had a fight,” Jon says. “Stay out of it. It’s none of your business.”

Elias narrows his eyes.

“What happens to myArchivist very much is my business,” he says.

“I’m not your damn property,” Jon seethes. “And I can take care of myself.”

“You called me to ask for help,” Elias reminds him coldly.

“Not with this,” Jon says. “Leave Tim alone. Leave all of them alone.”

He’s trembling; his head spins. What a pathetic sight he makes right now, bargaining for his assistants’ lives with an empty hand. It’s a wonder Elias doesn’t laugh in his face.

“Jon,” Elias says. “They haven’t the right…” he cuts off, abruptly, and lets go of Jon’s chin.

The sudden absence of his touch is enough to have Jon swaying on his feet. He gasps, black spots dancing before his eyes; luckily the wall is not far behind his back, giving him something to lean on, his sweaty hands desperately scrambling at it for something to hold.

Elias looks down at him, startled. Jon gives a weak laugh in response.

“I told you,” he says. “I’m not feeling well.”

“Yes, I can see that,” Elias says. He steps away to where he set down his briefcase and retrieves a file from it. “Here. I brought you these.”

It’s the damn statements. Jon doesn’t even need to browse through its contents to know as much; the file calls out to him through no sense he can name. As Elias places it in Jon’s hands, Jon can almost hear the background static of the tape recorder, all other thoughts and concerns receding from his restless mind. He’s blank, achingly empty, and ready to receive this new account of the Powers, to absorb the fear and lose himself in it, to feel, to experience, to know—

“No,” he says. “Why—”

“It’ll help,” Elias says. So calm, so logical.

“I don’t want this,” Jon whispers. “I never wanted this. I can’t…”

The wall slips away, or maybe he slides down, limp and helpless. Elias catches him before he can hit the ground and steers him towards the couch; Jon doesn’t fight him. He couldn’t even if he wanted to.

“Jon,” Elias says, from somewhere far away. “You need this. You know you need this. What, exactly, are you hoping to gain by intentionally starving yourself?”

“This is wrong,” Jon says. His mouth is dry; his tongue feels like it was made of sandpaper. The buzzing in his head only gets louder.

“It is what it is,” Elias says. “You can be angry about it later, if you’d like.”

Jon shoves him away. He would have more luck with a brick wall; Elias catches his hands easily, encircling Jon’s wrists in a loose grip, his thumb running soothing patterns on the delicate inner skin of them.

“No,” Jon repeats, numbly.

He still can’t bring himself to let go of the statements. He is clutching them so tightly it’s a wonder they haven’t torn yet… but, no. The thought is absurd. In the heights of madness, Jon would never damage these. He might as well take a knife to his own flesh and slice it into ribbons.

“When was the last time you read one?”

“Not sure. A week. Maybe two,” Jon shakes his head. He’s been avoiding them, he hates what they turn him into. He hates the sick thrill of anticipation, he hates the words flowing out of his mouth, he hates the buzz of static on his tongue, he hates the Eye’s heavy gaze over his shoulder, all around him, within him. He hates the nightmares. He hates himself most of all.

“Oh, Jon,” Elias says softly. Like he understands, like he cares. He moves closer, sits right next to Jon and lets go of his hand to cradle the back of his head.

And it’s nice. It’s nice to sink into his embrace, regardless of how sure Jon is he’d be safer throwing himself into shark-infested waters. Elias is warm; his chest moves at a steady, comforting rhythm. His arms around Jon feel grounding, partially shielding him from the Eye’s constant presence.

“I don’t want this,” Jon repeats, over and over, like a broken record. He isn’t making any sense. He knows he isn’t.

He smooths the paper in his hands. Elias tucks a few loose strands of hair behind his ear, so that they won’t obscure his vision.

“You didn’t hurt these people, Jon,” he says quietly. “Whatever happened to them is already done. You cannot rewrite their stories. All you can do is archive them.”

“What for?” Jon asks. “Why?”

Elias considers him for a long moment, with an inscrutable expression on his face. On anyone else, Jon might be willing to classify it as remorse; but he knows better. He knows Elias too well, and yet not at all.

“For now? Because you need it,” Elias says. “For later – I’ll tell you when you’re ready.”

He needs it. That’s the simple truth of it. Right now, Jon can start reading, or he can die. It’s stupid, it’s absurd; and yet it’s true.

“Statement of…”