#you think you're doing better and then it hits you like a freight train again

[a-substantial-trash-pile]

it's one of those days where i miss my dog so much it feels like my heart is being strangled. can't believe it's only been a month. i've already fostered 2 dogs to try and fill the void and they've already both left for homes. i miss my little guy.

[skibasyndrome]

Wilmon + "please I need you inside me"

cw: this is... definitely nsfw, a lil bit angsty... messy exes reunited at a party?

ALSO: the word count on this bad boy got... completely out of hand (EDIT: that's why this is also available on ao3 now)

"Please, I need you inside me." Simon's whispered confession hits Wille like a freight train. It's not what he expected him to say, not after everything, not after all this time, not after what he said last time. Not as his first full sentence towards Wille, after an awkward "hey" in front of Felice and Sara who are the only reason they even came to Maddie's party in the first place. Not after asking if Wille "has a minute" one and a half hours later.

It's all wrong and Wille is confused, so fucking confused and a little bit too tipsy to really connect the dots (have there been hints all evening? have there been signs he misread?). Instead of asking any of the millions of questions floating around his mind (Why do you want me now? Did you change your mind? What happened to the new guy? Why here?) he just stutters, unsure what to say, unsure what to do about the goosebumps mottling the skin of his neck, even moments after Simon has already pulled away again. "Simon, I don't..." (Why didn't you text? Why didn't you call?) Simon's expression twists painfully and Wille knows, oh god he knows what this sounds like and he needs to fix this. "I...," and the words still don't make their way out, so he reaches out, fingers grazing the inside of Simon's wrist, so soft and so smooth and so reminiscent of the times this was what they did. (Why did you push me away when this is what you want?) "We can't," Wille tries instead, desperate, breathless, feels his chest contract angrily, feels his resolve crumble with every passing second that he's skin to skin with Simon. Fingertips on the wrist are enough to set his skin on fire. Enough to bring him back to two years ago. (Why didn't you want me to fight harder?) "Is it because you don't want to?" Simon asks, voice gentle and careful and so painfully small - Wille hates when Simon feels like he needs to make his voice smaller - that the pang goes right to Wille's heart. (Why would you ever think I don't want you?) He shakes his head fervently, like he can shake off the hurt and the confusion and the incessantly rising heat of want that crawls up the inside of his throat. "No. God, no," he tries, feels and hears his voice break on the first no. (Did I not prove to you that you're all I ever want?) Simon's eyes meet his again, finally. Glistening even in the dim light of this hallway, and Wille wishes he could read him better, wishes there weren't two years of distance lodged in between them. Simon moves his arm and just as Wille is about to gasp at the prospect of losing him again he feels Simon's grip on his upper arm instead, firm and warm even through the thin fabric of his shirt. The breath gets stuck somewhere deep inside of Wille's rib cage. He doesn't dare make a single move while Simon tugs on his arm, places it around himself, takes another step towards Simon. (Why did I ever let you go?) The look in Simon's eyes is dangerous, is gnawing away at every bit of distance, at every wall that Wille has desperately tried to build up over these past years. Simon squeezes Wille's bicep, signaling him he can touch him back and- Fuck. And Wille does. Wille's hand still perfectly fits on top of Simon's hipbone. "If you still in any way want me..." (What the fuck did I do to make you think there'd ever be an 'if'?) "if this is still," and Simon is standing so close to him now that Wille thinks he must be feeling him. Must be feeling that Wille, despite himself and all that work he put into getting over Simon, very much fucking wants him. Now, always, probably for fucking ever. "If this is something you might want..." Simon presses against him now, hips against hips, and Wille wants to moan and cry and wrap him tightly in his arms because he can feel Simon again, too, here, close. Simon leans forward, lips moving towards Wille's ear. "Let me have this, Wille. If you still want this, let me have you."

Wille's moan is barely stifled when he feels the subtle movement of Simon against him, of Simon pressing into him, onto him, of Simon searching for contact and friction and more of Wille. "Not here," Wille tries, but he's already losing the battle and grinding his erection against Simon's, that quietly flickering flame he never quite managed to put out now stoked into a raging fire. "We don't have- and we're just-" And while he stammers away, while he digs his fingertips into Simon's side and relishes in the heady feeling of having him here again, he feels Simon slip something into his palm, a small bottle, familiar enough to make Wille's mind spin. (How did you-?) "I knew you'd be here," Simon confesses, unprompted. "I knew I'd see you." His lips leave burns in their wake as they brush down the side of Wille's jaw. Wille barely has control over his own hands, just barely registers that must be pulling Simon closer. And it seems like this breaks a dam inside of Simon. "Been thinking about you," he gasps out and Wille can feel his hands under his shirt now, digging nails into Wille's skin that remembers. "Been missing you," Simon admits, much more quietly, but before Wille has any chance - But why did you-? - Simon pushes on. "Missed feeling you... missed having you like this." And god, god, Wille is a broken man. He's never had a sense for when to stop, when to turn away from Simon before things become detrimental, and he's not about to now start acting like he has any control over his feelings towards this man. This man that ruined Wille for everyone forever. So of course Wille finds himself perched behind Simon in one of the seemingly countless storage rooms in Maddie's house, of course he's got Simon holding on to a shelf in front of him, with his pants bunched up around his knees, and of course he's back to opening Simon up for him, nice and slow and grabbing one of his ass cheeks, holding him open for a better view while he does it, because simply feeling him is not enough right now. Of course Simon is back to letting out those sounds that Wille has never stood a chance against, quiet hiccup-y moans that he draws out for a moment longer whenever Wille pulls out and gently eases his fingers back in, teasing. Simon feels just like Wille remembers, he moves just like Wille remembers, he lets out that same broken sound when Wille drops to his knees and asks if he can, please, if Simon is okay with it. He arches his back and pushes back against Wille's mouth, moans at every flick of his tongue, just like he's always done. The filthy string of profanities and desperate pleas falling from his mouth is just as enticing and encouraging as it's always been. The way Wille needs to hold Simon's hips in place, thumbs on his ass cheeks to help hold him open, the way Simon tastes, the way he grinds back and lets Wille fuck his tongue into him... It all hasn't changed one bit. Wille feels delirious, feels like he's stuck in one of those dreams that kept haunting him for weeks, months, after. He feels like he could risk waking up to his empty bed again if he pulls away to catch his breath. It still feels like a dream when he lines himself up with Simon's back, when he presses closer, not pushing in, just feeling the heat of Simon's body through his shirt, just relishing in the slick, hot tightness of being between Simon's thighs. It's so much, so fucking much that Wille needs a moment, that he needs to prepare for what he's sure will ruin him, that he needs to wait before entering him again.

"Are you okay?" Simon asks, breathing heavily and grinding back desperately, and it's almost like it used to be, almost as sweet and caring and devastatingly gentle as they used to be. Almost, because there's an edge of fear, of worry, of uncertainty. Wille nods, pressing his forehead against the soft wispy hairs at the back of Simon's neck. He's so okay. He's so much more than okay, feels so much better than he has months and that alone is absolutely fucking breaking him apart. "So okay," Wille gasps out, pulling back slightly to line himself up. He ignores the slight tremor in his hands, that anticipatory shiver of pleasure that courses through him. "So fucking okay," he moans when he slowly pushes in, sinks against Simon, slips back into that old, familiar, breathtaking sensation of connection and closeness, of soft, warm bliss. And Simon does it, too, moans, throws his head back, angles himself so that Wille can slide home, can claim this feeling for the two of them, finally again. Simon's affirmative hum travels through Wille's chest like the heavy bass on the dance floor did earlier, Simon's sweetly assertive command for "more, Wille" pierces him like a knife. But he can, he absolutely wants to give Simon more. He pulls back slightly, only to thrust into him again, giving more and deeper and harder, making Simon's breathing stutter, making the shelf that's bearing more of less all the force groan under the impact. Every bit of desperation, every yearning thought Wille has tried to neatly file away breaks lose in him, every single time he dreamt of this imagined just one more chance at this hits him at once. By the time he pulls back, words of warning on his lips, mumbled apologies for being so gone so quickly, for not making this last any longer falling into the sweat-heavy air around them, his eyes are burning, his throat closing up. It can't be over already, not again, not now, not ever. Simon's arm shoots behind him, grabbing onto Wille's ass, pulling him closer again, urging him back inside to the hilt. Wille's hips stutter and he gasps out another pleading warning, sure that he's going to fall any minute now, but Simon only digs his blunt fingernails into Wille's skin. "Stay," Simon presses out, so quietly that Wille barely hears it. But it's enough to make Wille press his eyes shut, go rigid against Simon's back. "Inside me, please," he adds, words so drawn out and voice so breathy that Wille can't help but moan in response. Simon needs him, is all Wille can think of when Simon grinds back against him, Simon needs to feel him again, he thinks, as he listens to Simon's staccato breaths and the sound of his slickened hand jerking himself off. It's all the way it used to be, it's like he was never gone, it's like they picked up where they left off, like it's them, together, against all odds again. It takes no more than a couple thrusts before Wille is coming, gasping into the sweaty hair in the back of Simon's neck, pressing closer, wrapping his arms tightly around Simon's chest and stomach, like that will keep him from ever leaving again. Wille is still panting, still shaking, when he feels Simon's come hit his arm, feels Simon go pliant in his arms. He doesn't ask why now, why after all this time, when Simon, hands still holding Wille against him, like he, too, is scared Wille will leave, pants out a quiet "thank you". Wille doesn't ask what this means, either. Doesn't ask what Simon now thinks of him, what Simon now wants to do. He doesn't, can't, get out a single question while he holds onto Simon and Simon holds onto him.

OOOF. I......... I guess that was the vibe when I sat down to write this today. Thank you so so much for sending in that prompt, dear anon! I hope you enjoyed it! 💜💜💜

Send me "Wilmon" + a sentence and I will write you 2k apparently another 5(+) sentences

[notsosweetchan]

Changbin and ab riding is literally all thats on my mind lately and i can never find anything about jt 😿

Warning:Smut (Minors Do Not Interact)

Paring-Changbin x Reader

Abs-olutely Yours

Y/N had always loved her boyfriend Changbins abs it might be her favorite part of him coming in close second was his butt of course. Y/N couldn't help but think as she traced her fingertips along his abs gently her nails lightly scratching his skin.

Changbin grunted slightly and moaned name her in pleasure "Y/N" he groaned out she looked up at him with a smirk "what Binnie" she purred Changbin's abs flexed as he sucked in a sharp breath, a bead of sweat dripping down his chiseled jawline.

"Y/N you're teasing me" he said she let out a small laugh "I just can’t help it your abs look irresistible" Y/N said biting her lower lip playfully before she continued to trace her nails along his abs.

“I want to ride your abs Binnie can I please ride them” she said in a whiney voice Changbin couldn't help but chuckle at Y/N's playful request.

"You're such a dork," he said, but the smile on his face betrayed his amusement. He lay down on the bed, propping himself up on his elbows, and flexed his abs playfully.

"Go ahead, my lady, mount your trusty steed." Y/N giggled and straddled Changbin's abs, positioning herself so her thighs were on either side of his hips.

His rock-hard abs felt amazing under her skin, sending shivers through her body.

She leaned forward and gave him a light kiss on the lips before starting to bounce up and down, her hands resting on his strong shoulders for balance.

Changbin groaned as he felt Y/N's softness against him, causing his abs to contract even more under her weight. "Ride me, baby," he moaned, encouraging her to go faster.

Y/N obliged, picking up speed as she bounced harder and faster on his toned abs. The room was filled with the sound of their heavy breathing and their soft moans of pleasure.

Changbin's abs became slick with sweat underneath her, but Y/N didn't care, she was lost in the sensation of being so close to him, of being able to feel his muscles contract and relax under her touch.

She leaned down and started to kiss his neck, running her tongue along his collar bone as she continued to grind against him.

"D-do that again," he moaned out between clenched teeth. Y/N smirked, knowing she had found his weak spot.

She licked and nipped at the sensitive skin on his neck, while maintaining her rhythm on his abs. Changbin's grip on her hips tightened, helping Y/N to move even faster.

"H-harder, Y/N," he panted, his abs tensing even more under her. Y/N obliged, grinding herself down harder against him, the wonderful friction sending sparks of pleasure through her body.

Changbin's abs were like an erotic amusement park for her, each movement she made sent a wave of pleasure through her.

She could feel her climax building, the muscles in her core tensing as she brought herself closer and closer to edge.

"Baby... baby ... I'm.." she panted out, but couldn't finish her sentence as her orgasm hit her like a freight train, crashing into her without warning.

Waves of pleasure coursed through her body, causing her to dig her nails into his shoulders and arch her back.Changbin groaned as he felt Y/N's release, her nails raking across his skin sending shivers down his spine.

As Y/N's climax subsided, she collapsed forward onto Changbin's chest, gasping for air.

He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close as Y/N both caught her breath. “Fuck baby show me the mess you made.

"Changbin said in a husky voice Y/N blushed ad she got up and pulled her panties down taking them off and tossing them away she then lay better down on the bed and spread her legs for him and his eyes widened with lust as he saw the evidence of her climax on his abs.

"That’s a messy girl” he purred moving closer to her core and inhaling Y/N’s scent before lapping up all her juices. Y/N moaned as she felt his tongue against her sensitive skin, teasing her core and lapping up her juices.

His tongue was warm and wet, sending shivers of pleasure through her body as he cleaned her up. "Changbin... Changbin..." she moaned, threading her fingers through his hair as he continued to worship her body.

Changbin looked up at her with a sly grin before he dipped his head lower, his tongue flicking her clit in a way he knew drove Y/N wild. Y/N cried out his name, bucking her hips against his face as she felt herself teetering on the edge of another orgasm.

Changbin smiled to himself, knowing he had found her sensitive spot. He increased the pressure and speed, eliciting more moans and whimpers from Y/N's lips.

"I-I'm... I'm... Changbin, I'm gonna... again," Y/N gasped, her nails digging into the sheets as she struggled to hold on.

Changbin didn't relent, his tongue working magic on her swollen clit, pushing her over the edge for a second time. Y/N arched her back, her toes scrunching as she came undone in his mouth, her juices flowing onto his waiting tongue.

As her orgasm subsided, Y/N collapsed onto the bed, panting and spent. Changbin crawled up next to her, wiping her juices from his lips with the back of his hand before leaning in for a messy kiss.

"Mmm... delicious," he purred, smirking at her flushed expression. “ you can give one more sweetheart right?” He purred his eyed clouded with lust as he rubbed his now hard erection through his pants.

Y/N couldn't help but laugh, "Changbin you're insatiable." She teased, but she could feel herself responding to his touch.

"Mmmm maybe I just can't get enough of my beautiful girlfriend." He said before pulling her into a deep kiss, his tongue invading her mouth, tasting herself on his lips.

Y/N moaned into the kiss, her hand slipping down to remove his sweatpants freeing his hard length from its confines. She stroked him slow and teasingly, running her nails up and down his shaft.

Changbin groaned into the kiss, " Condom... Drawer." He managed to gasp out, gesturing to the bedside table. Y/N reached over and grabbed the condom, tearing it open with her teeth before sheathing him.

"Better?" She purred, a mischievous glint in her eye. Changbin nodded, his hips twitching as he anticipated the moment they would be joined as one.

"Much better," he growed before flipping her over onto her stomach, positioning himself at her entrance. Y/N felt him against her and arched her hips back, silently begging for more.

With a deep breath, Changbin slid into her, feeling her heat engulf him in a cocoon of pleasure. They both moaned in unison as they became one, their hips moving in sync with each other's rhythm.

Changbin's hands gripped her hips, guiding her movements as he thrust into her harder and faster, his every ounce of restraint gone. Y/N's nails dug into the sheets, the headboard banging against the wall in time with their frantic movements.

"Changbin... Changbin... don't stop," she panted, her orgasm building up once more. Changbin groaned in response, his grip on her hips tightening as he pistoned into her mercilessly.

Y/N couldn't help but moan louder as Changbin's thick cock filled her up. Her pussy was soaking wet and ready for him as he slowly thrust in and out of her, creating a wonderful friction that sent tingles throughout her body.

His strong arms held her tightly, supporting her weight as they moved together in a rhythm that could only be described as pure bliss.

With every thrust, she felt the muscles in his abdomen flexing underneath her sensitive skin, sending more waves of pleasure coursing through her.

She gasped for air as their pace quickened, their bodies slapping together with each forceful movement. Their sweat mixed together, creating a unique scent that filled the room, adding to the erotic atmosphere.

As they continued their fervent lovemaking, Changbin's hands roamed over her back and ass, gripping her firmly but not enough to leave bruises.

His thrusts became deeper and harder, his chest pressed against her back while his lips trailed soft kisses down to nibble on her neck and collarbone.

Each time he released a sweet moan into her earlobe, Y/N shuddered in delight, unable to contain the sounds of pleasure escaping from her mouth. Her heart raced faster than ever, pounding against her ribcage as she felt herself getting closer to the edge once again.

Y/N dug her nails into the mattress beneath her fists and wrapped one leg around Changbin's waist while arching her back, pleading with him not to stop.

Her juices coated his thick length inside of her; it was like velvet against his skin while his abs flexed with every powerful stroke.

The bed squeaked underneath them as their bodies collided again and again, the sound of passionate moans echoing off the four walls of the bedroom they were in.

”Binnie I’m cumming...again...fuck...” Y/N gasped, her toes curling as her orgasm hit her with full force. Changbin grunted in response, his hips stuttering as he followed her over the edge, his seed spilling inside the condom with a groan of pure pleasure.

They lay there panting, their bodies entwined as they tried to catch their breath. Changbin leaned down and nipped Y/N's earlobe before whispering in a husky voice, "I love you, baby girl."

They lay there panting, their bodies entwined as they tried to catch their breath. Changbin leaned down and nipped Y/N's earlobe before whispering in a husky voice, "I love you, baby girl."

[zeestarfishalien]

My Graveyard Song Ch. 14

(Totally got distracted and forgot to post this to tumblr. It's been up on ao3 for a few days now)

[Masterpost]

Jason looked at the two empty bowls and one empty plate of food Danny had polished off and promptly decides to take him to Rosa Lee’s Diner. They always serve extra large portions of food that stands up to even Alfred’s high standards.

As he urges Spooky into one of the jackets left by his siblings, he shoots a text off to Cass.

[BCC plz 4 Spooky u wel 2 IOU 1 🏠🍝 ur chc]

By the time Cass gets there, Danny is starting on his third plate. Mind you, she got here in under half an hour and Danny is not in fact a speedster, but at the rate Danny is going, Bruce is certainly going to think someone fed a speedster.

Jason is really not sure where all this food is going. By all rights, his spooky friend should be on the verge of exploding from eating more than his body weight in food.

Even the waitstaff are watching this little meta-looking kid down pounds and pounds of food.

Cass passes Jason an unmarked black credit card and sits next to him in order to better watch Danny scarf down his waffles.

Five minutes later when their waiter swings by, Jason orders a platter of beignets and Danny orders Rosa Lee’s own personal special, a breakfast that comes with four slices of ham, a mountain of cheesy scrambled eggs, two pancakes, four breakfast sausage links, two biscuits, and an apple turnover.

At this point, the waiter doesn’t even blink, just asks if he’d like anything to add or substitute.

He asks for 3 extra pancakes.

By the time he's halfway through his stack of pancakes -the last thing left of his Rosa Lee Special- it dawns on Jason, that maybe Danny shouldn't be eating this much when he hasn't eaten regular human food in a long time.

But then again, what does he know? The world is a great big mysterious place and you cannot treat every humanoid looking being by the limitations of humans.

Danny is watching him now, an openly curious look on his face. There's a question in the air between them, even Cass picks up on it.

Carefully slow, Danny sets down his fork and finishes chewing the bite in his mouth.

"You're worried," he croaks, tapping his index finger on the table to emphasize his words.

He pauses, distracted, and looks down at his hand, repeating the motion of tapping his finger on the table while studying it closely. Jason almost breaks into laughter when Danny’s head tilts in an oddly animal like fashion.

If he needed any other proof that Spooky the dog is Danny the spirit sitting before him, this would do it.

His glowing eyes flick back up to Jason.

"Amused," he rasps out barely above a whisper. There's still that unspoken question in the air.

It finally clicks. The emotions Danny is naming are Jason’s. The question he wants to know is 'why'.

"I wasn't sure if you could get sick from overeating. Humans need to ease back into eating normal amounts but you're not human so I don't know what standard to hold you to."

Danny nods absently, his finger tap tap tapping away on the table.

"Hard to say," he says finally. His voice still sounds like gravel, not unlike Cass' own voice.

"Ecto fills in gaps. A temporary fix. Rebuilding with the right stuff now." He gestures vaguely to the empty plates stacked on their table. "Ecto is fast. I'm probably fine."

"Sorry," Jason half mumbles. "I just worry."

All movement from Danny freezes, like someone pressed pause on the TV. His eyes go wide in realization and alarm.

"Jazz..."

Jason blinks and then it hits him with the speed and force of a freight train.

"Oh shit! Jazz!" He scrambles for his phone. "Do you remember anything else about her that might help?!"

~•~

Bill would like everyone to know that he works very hard to be a good hench person.

He's not dumb. Now he may not be book smart like half the big baddies in Gotham, but he's not dumb.

He would have died long ago if that were the case. He's worked for the Red Hood for a couple years now —it's one of the best decisions he's ever made; the guy knows how to treat his hench people. What more can Bill say?— and he's avoided asking questions just like with all his hench jobs before this.

But he'd really like to ask one now that he's stuck watching years worth of security footage...

What even constitutes suspicious activity in a cemetery?

Now most people would automatically say, graverobbing, but Big Red is a Gotham native. In Gotham, no one is buried with their valuables, not unless your grave is in a super secret spot. Gothamites can smell money and anytime there's a possibility of it, people will dig up the grave in question.

Hell, the cops don't even stop for it anymore, they just keep on rollin' even if it's happening right before their eyes.

Point is, graverobbing can't be the suspicious behavior he's supposed to look for, but Bill really isn't sure what exactly does quantify as suspicious behavior to Big Red.

Everything here has been run of the mill, graverobbing, teen/young adult vandalism, or drug deals.

Yes, he considers goth teens/young adults having sex in a cemetery as vandalism too. Vandalism on his eyes, if nothing else.

He hits pause on a big white van and rubs his eyes tiredly. Perhaps it's time to call it a night. He's losing focus, getting caught up in his own thoughts.

His hand hovers over the mouse about to drag it over to close out of the program when his brain catches up to what his eyes are seeing.

The van, big, white, armored...

Now that IS unusual. Black or gray vans are the favored colors in Gotham and anyone, who knows anything about Gotham, knows that you NEVER armor up a suspicious color and type of vehicle. Not if you don't want the cops and vigilantes breaking down your door.

He can just make out two people in bright colors inside the van. They're grainy but not grainy enough for Bill to doubt the color of their outfits.

It's too bright for any regular gothamite. The only people in this city who dress like that are the big shot villains and their cronies.

The two disappear into the cemetery, out of sight of the camera with tools in hand. He scans forward a few hours (less time than he expected honestly) and slows back to normal speed just in time to watch them unload what seems to be some sort of coffin, except it's metal with glowing lines and patterns on it.

He pauses the video again and with elbows resting upon the desk he presses clasped hands against his mouth to muffle his sigh.

Well, if that doesn't constitute suspicious activity then Bill will hand in a letter of resignation and go flip burgers.

Well...time to let the boss know.

Yall thought I made up the part where Bill the Henchman comes in, but I definitely, absolutely had this planned from the beginning. [Lying]

Okay, gonna be honest, I may have had a plan for Bill, but it either was lost in the shuffle or there never actually was a plan for scenes with Bill. Considering I can only sometimes keep my dream memories from mixing with my awake memories, any hope of recovering any potential memories is nigh on impossible.

HOWEVER

I can always make new plans. AND I HAVE! So yes, we have Bill now and I'm going to pretend like this was planned all along.

Oh yeah! So Jason’s text at the beginning says: Black credit card please, for Spooky. You are welcome too. I owe you one homemade meal, your choice.

Also can you imagine being a vigilante? Bc you have at least 10 very important things you have to juggle on just an average Tuesday. This is not including sudden family disasters like a family member getting trapped in a burning building and having to go save them, plus more wild revelations about your funky supernatural roomie. So like, cut a guy some slack, I know I'd be floundering some days. Attempting to prioritize must really be a bitch some days. Just...oof...

[monsterswithimagines]

Undisclosed Desires - Part 15

Joe Goldberg x female!Reader

Summary: Twenty minutes before he would have met Guinevere Beck, Joe meets you instead. You intruige him, but it will soon become clear that there is something off about you.

Words: 1388

Masterlist

Warning!! You guys are going to love me for this one. Or hate me. Lol.

You are not the first woman I've had to kill for.

Candace had lots of male friends, and at one point or another, they all tended to get too close to her. But she liked it, and she was sad when they died. She blamed herself and asked stupid questions like: “why does everybody around me get hurt, Joe?”

You are stronger than Candace. You recognize how bad Jasper was, and you are not sad. You don't ask stupid questions, either. You just shrug after you tell me your coworker died and say “he kind of had a drug problem, so…”

And that is that.

You are not fighting with your grandparents anymore, but now you're fighting with your mom. When I come over, you're usually in a bad mood and no amount of me trying to make you feel better helps, because you don't want to feel better. You want to be angry.

“What?” you snap at me when I tell you to put on your jacket. “I don't want to go out, Joe.”

“C'mon,” I say, trying to stay calm. “We're going for a walk.”

I'm lucky you like to be told to do things, even when you're angry. Other women might have fought me, but you put on your jacket. You're basically steaming out of your ears, you're so mad, but you go with me.

You don't ask me where we're going when I hail us a cab. You're trying to stonewall me again, but this time I won't let you.

This time, I think I really have found something that might help.

Here's something I've learned about you, (Y/n): your emotions hit you like a freight train. When you're anxious, you don't know what to do with yourself, so you rearrange all your furniture. When you're happy, you sing and you dance. People like you usually have the most destructive anger, and you know that, so you turn it all inwards and shut people out.

Other people would try to blow off steam with sex, but you've convinced yourself that even after nearly three months of dating, it's still too soon for us. You told Grey about it a while ago, which is good because it means you're finally ready to tell the important people in your life that we're together (you also, finally, told Nadia).

But also, (Y/n), I'm going a little bit insane.

I have to blow off steam, too, you know?

There's a derelict building in Bed-Stuy. When walking past it, you might just assume that it's sitting empty. But no. It's owned by a friend of Mr. Mooney's, and it's a legitimate business.

You're suspicious when I try to lead you inside, but then a woman opens the door for us and you relax a little.

The woman greets us happily. She introduces herself as Janine and tells you she loves your top. She's thirty and bottle blond and wears a lot of pastels. I can tell you want to throttle her, but you thank her instead.

Janine leads us to a room which is set up just like a regular office, and hands you a baseball bat.

You look at me blankly.

“What is this, Joe?”

“Well,” I say, as Janine hands me a baseball bat as well. “It's a rage room.”

“A what?”

Maybe they don't have rage rooms in The Netherlands, or maybe you've just never been to one.

“A rage room,” I repeat. “It's a place where you can go to destroy things.”

“You guys have an hour,” Janine tells me happily, and then she leaves.

We're alone and you're still not getting it. You follow me into the room, but you don't know what to do with yourself. I'm going to have to get this thing started.

I lift the baseball bat in my hands, feeling its heft. It's not one of those cheap plastic ones, but real, solid wood like the one I keep under the counter at Mooney's. You could really hurt someone with this.

I throw all my weight as I swing the bat. You gasp when the desk lamp shatters.

“Like that,” I say.

I can see the wheels inside your brain turning. I'd love to know what you're thinking right now. You've never seen me do anything violent, so maybe you're trying to process that. Or maybe you're just trying to process the fact that I expect you to destroy things.

You lift the bat. You look at it like it's an alien.

Then, you swing it, and the analog computer screen crashes to the floor.

You like it.

You are smiling and the desk is next. You tell me to help you and we go at it together, hitting the cheap wooden furniture until it splits right down the middle. I throw a chair at the wall, you swing at the corner table. We both leave the bookcase in the corner alone, though. We would never destroy books. We're better than that.

You look beautiful when you're violent.

Your hair is flying around and at some point, you take off your jacket. There is a drop of sweat running down your collarbone until it disappears into your tank top, right between your boobs. There is even some dirt on your forehead, I don't know where it came from.

Then, you're done and you see me watching you. You drop the baseball bat and you rush me. For a moment, I think you might even hit me. My head is still in that place. But of course you don't.

You put your hands on my cheeks and I wrap my arms around your waist and drop my bat, too, and it clatters to the floor loudly.

Did I tell you you're a fast learner, (Y/n)? You are so good at kissing, now. You know exactly what I like and I know exactly what you like. When we kiss, it's electric, and that's not just because we're both sweaty and out of breath and ready to blow off even more steam.

Your hips are pressed into mine and you can tell I'm hard, but you don't pull away from me. You let me push you against the wall and kiss and bite your neck. You moan. You're not sure what to do with your hands so you grab my shoulders, and you bring your leg up so it's rubbing me through my jeans.

I really think you might let me fuck you right here, in this room that we just laid waste to together. But then, the worst thing that has ever happened to any man ever, happens to me.

A flash of lightning. I groan. I hide my face against your neck in embarrassment.

You are quiet. You're not sure what just happened.

“Did you just…?”

Of course I just. It's been so long, (Y/n). I should have known this would happen the second you put your hands on me.

“Joe?”

“I'm sorry,” I say.

I'm not sorry. This is kind of your fault. But what else do I say when I just came in my jeans like a high school boy?

You take a deep breath. Then, you laugh.

You're laughing at me. I've ruined everything.

“Oh, my God,” you say. “I've never made a guy come before.”

You're not laughing at me. You're laughing at yourself - at the power you have over me. I pull away from you and you're smiling, and then you kiss me again. Slow and sweet this time.

“Next time,” you whisper, “you're going to be inside me when that happens.”

I could get hard again right now. I really could.

But our hour is almost up. I don't want Janine to come in here and find us fucking against the wall. And, really, now that I'm thinking more clearly… I don't want our first time together to be like this. I don't want your first time to be like this.

“Can't wait,” I say.

The cab ride back to your apartment, and then mine, is the most uncomfortable I've ever been. I'm glad when I can change out of my dirty clothes. But it was worth it because You've never made a guy come before.

I was your first. I will be your first.

And it will be soon.

[wannaeatramyeon]

Vin Jin x Reader: Confessing to you

Friends to lovers. In his own unique way.

"Who the hell would even date you? Duke Pyeon?!" Vin laughs uproariously at his own joke.

Fuck him. Seething, you stand to leave.

"Actually. It's that guy you hate in the fashion department."

That stops his laughter completely.

"What the FUCK!" Vin shouts at your retreating back. He turns to Mary, "Did you hear what they said?!"

"Vin." is all Mary says, levelling him with a look.

.

.

The lack of notifications on Vin's phone is deafening. He stares at it, willing it to buzz.

So what if you're on your 'date' right now. So what if you've been with that dipshit for the past 47, no wait- 48 minutes now. So what if you might be holding hands, and he's kissing-

Fuck. No. That's fucking gross.

Ok. He has a plan. You probably wouldn't be texting Vin, but Vin can text you. Something to remind you of him. To distract you a little. To derail whatever is going on.

His fingers hover, ready to compose a message. But then the words from your last few exchanges catches his eyes. They taunt him.

Y/N: this song reminds me of you! [link]

Vin: Cool

Y/N: Coffee?

Vin: Nah

Y/N: Hey the new blockbuster is out! Cinema this weekend?

Vin: Busy

Goddamn. It hits him like a freight train.

.

.

"Forget that loser, go out with me."

"Why the fuck would I do that?"

Vin hands you a piece of paper, looking immensely impressed with himself.

You take it with caution, furrowing your brows at him before finally reading. Great, some more cringe from this idiot:

Yo I like your melons

It gets me in my feelings (Did he seriously rhyme melons with feelings?)

Fuck that fashion fool

Not literally, ho- (... the fuck?)

He's a massive tool

Without a massive tool (Ok, that line did make you snigger.)

Fuck Architecture

Fuck Comics, we're better

Fuck that Beauty guy

I fucking hate them all (This is taking a turn...)

I can smash them all to pieces, I'll break their legs

I'll make them puke blood, they think they're stronger than me?

CHEONLIANG ANSWERS TO NO ONE- (Wow. Okay. It devolves into absolute gibberish from here on out-)

"That's a yeah?" Vin grins at you expectantly.

You peer down again at... Whatever the hell this is, you don't even know.

You still grip it like a love letter.

Guess you're the actual fool.

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

Ψ M is for Maraclea: Chapter Twelve

M is for Maraclea: Following an accident you had over summer break, you find yourself in limbo after being legally dead for several minutes. Now an outcast at boarding school, you end up finding comfort in a strange boy named Nigel. As winter draws near and tragedy strikes, your only reprieve from madness comes from a mind much like your own.

Warnings: If You Haven’t Figured It Out Yet, Nigel Baby-Trapped You.

To Note: Nigel Colbie x Fem!Reader, NAMED Reader for Plot Reasons, There Are A Lot of DARK Themes.

Word Count: ~2.4k

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You lie in your dorm room, the walls closing in on you. The fever from the strep throat has you sweating through your sheets, and the fatigue drags you deeper into the mattress. Each breath feels like a mountain to climb.

The door opens slightly, and you see Mrs. Kensington step in. Her face is a mix of pity and frustration. "Mary," she starts, her voice soft but firm, "we need to talk."

You muster the strength to sit up, your body protesting every movement. "What is it?"

She takes a deep breath, her eyes not meeting yours. "The results came back. You're pregnant."

The words hit you like a freight train. Your mind races, trying to grasp the reality of it. Pregnant? How? But you know how. The memory of that night with Nigel floods back.

"The headmistress is not pleased," Mrs. Kensington continues, her voice now tinged with a hint of anger. "Your father has been informed and will be coming to see you once you're feeling better."

You nod slowly, the weight of the situation pressing down on you. The thought of facing your father sends a shiver down your spine. He always had high expectations for you—expectations you’ve now shattered.

Days blur together as you remain confined to your room. Nurse Brown checks on you regularly, but her visits are brief and clinical. The school has become a prison, each hour stretching into eternity.

Finally, the day arrives when your father steps through the door. His face is set in a grim line, eyes cold and unforgiving.

"What were you thinking?" he demands, his voice low but seething with anger.

You swallow hard, unable to meet his gaze. "That I simply did not wish to feel," you reply.

"I expected this kind of behavior from Alex," he continues, pacing the small room like a caged animal. "But from you, Mary?"

Your father's eyes narrow as he takes a breath, trying to compose himself. "Mary," he says, his voice strained but steady, "I know who the boy is. Nigel Colbie."

Your heart skips a beat at the mention of Nigel's name. You nod slowly, not trusting yourself to speak.

"While I'm furious about this situation," he continues, "at least he's a boy with a future. A bright one."

You blink, the weight of his words sinking in. A future? You hadn't thought that far ahead. You only care about how he makes you feel.

"Here's what's going to happen," your father says, his tone brokering no argument. "You and Nigel will marry before the baby is born. The sooner the better in fact.”

Marry? The word echoes in your mind, filling you with a mix of dread and confusion. Marry Nigel? Another dictation of your life.

"Once you graduate," he goes on, "you'll both go to Cambridge. You'll study music there."

You open your mouth to protest but close it again. There's no room for argument here; your father's mind is made up.

"Do you understand?" he asks, his eyes piercing into yours.

You nod again, feeling the walls of your world closing in tighter.

"Good," he says, standing up. "I'll speak with Nigel about this arrangement. We'll sort everything out."

He leaves the room, and you sit there, numb. Your life has taken a turn you never expected. You think of Nigel and the night that led to this moment. The cold lake water, the crawl space filled with his things—his touch that made you feel alive for the first time since your drowning.

But now? Marriage? Cambridge? It feels like someone else's life being laid out before you. You lie back down on your bed, staring at the ceiling. The fever still lingers, but now it feels distant compared to the storm raging in your mind. Yet at the same time, you find peace in that storm.

You stand at the edge of the stage, your graduation gown flowing around you. The weight of your swollen belly anchors you to the spot, a constant reminder of the future growing inside you. The room buzzes with the excitement of your classmates, but you feel like an outsider looking in. Applause fills the air as names are called, one by one, each student stepping forward to collect their diploma.

Your name echoes through the hall. "Mary Colbie.”

You take a deep breath and step forward, each movement slower than the rest before you. The eyes of your peers burn into you, whispers trailing in your wake. Nothing you haven’t grown used to. You keep your gaze straight ahead, focusing on the headmistress holding out your diploma.

"Congratulations, Mary," she says, her smile tight but professional.

"Thank you," you reply, taking the diploma with both hands. You turn to face the audience, their faces a blur of indifference and curiosity.

You spot Alex in the crowd, his expression a mix of pride and concern. He gives you a small nod, and you find a flicker of strength in that gesture. Your father stands next to him, his face a mask of stern approval. Nigel is nowhere to be seen; he's already left for Cambridge to prepare for your arrival and begin summer studies.

You descend the steps carefully, mindful of your balance. Each step feels like an eternity, but finally, you're back in your seat. Your feet hurt, sitting down feels better. The ceremony continues around you, but it feels distant, like watching a play unfold from behind thick glass.

As the last name is called and the final applause dies down, you're swept into a sea of moving bodies. Congratulations are exchanged; laughter fills the air. You navigate through the crowd, searching for Alex and your father.

"Mary," Alex calls out as he reaches you first. He pulls you into a gentle hug, careful not to press against your belly. "I'm so proud of you."

"Thank you," you manage to say, feeling a lump form in your throat.

Your father steps forward next. "We need to talk about the arrangements for Cambridge," he says without preamble.

You nod. "Of course."

Your father’s stern face remains unwavering as he ushers you and Alex to a quieter corner of the hall. The noise of celebration fades into a distant hum. He takes a deep breath, straightening his jacket.

"You'll leave for Cambridge in a week," he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Nigel has already arranged everything."

You nod, feeling the weight of his words settle over you like a heavy blanket. A week. It feels like no time at all.

"He owns a house there," your father continues. "His inheritance from his parents has seen to a suitable home and his scholarship promotes a good future.”

The mention of Nigel's parents brings back the memory of their tragic end. Nigel needed it to fully be free of them. You push it aside, focusing on your father's words.

"You'll give birth during the summer," he says, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that makes you feel small. "After that, you'll start university. Music studies, as we discussed."

Your heart races at the thought of balancing a newborn and university life. "And the baby?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

"I'll pay for a nanny," he replies, dismissing your concern with a wave of his hand. "She'll take care of the child while you're in class."

You swallow hard, trying to process everything. Cambridge. Nigel's house. A nanny for the baby. Hand and foot he will have you waited on, nothing but the best for his daughter. Even if she greatly disappointed him.

"Is that clear?" your father asks, his gaze piercing into yours.

"Yes," you manage to say, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside you.

"Good," he says with a curt nod. "We'll finalize the details before you leave."

He turns to Alex, who has been silent throughout the conversation. "Look after her," he instructs, his tone softer but still commanding.

"I will," Alex replies, giving you a reassuring smile.

Your father steps back, giving you one last look before walking away. You and Alex stand there for a moment, the weight of the future pressing down on both of you.

"Are you okay?" Alex asks softly, concern etched on his face.

You nod slowly. "I miss his warmth, he chases the numbness away."

Alex's eyes soften as he places a hand on your shoulder. "You'll be with Nigel in a week," he says, his voice filled with an odd mix of reassurance and resignation. "Your numbness and chill will disappear."

You nod, feeling the weight of his words settle over you as you turn the rings on your leg ring finger. The thought of Nigel waiting for you in Cambridge stirs something inside you, a flicker of warmth amidst the cold that has enveloped you for so long. Alex's touch feels distant, a pale imitation of the heat that Nigel's presence brings.

"How do you know?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

"I've seen how he looks at you," Alex replies, his gaze unwavering. "And how you look at him. He's the only thing that makes you come back to life. You need him."

You stare at Alex, his words echoing in your mind. He's the only thing that makes you come back to life. You need him. The thought feels both comforting and terrifying. You nod, not trusting yourself to speak.

Alex's hand drops from your shoulder, and he gives you a small, reassuring smile. "Come on," he says, guiding you towards the exit. "Let's get out of here, I can't stand all this pretentiousness." A flicker of a smile crosses your lips.

As you walk through the crowded hall, you feel the stares of your classmates burning into your back. Whispers follow you like a shadow, but you keep your head held high. You refuse to let them see how much their gossip affects you.

Outside, the air is crisp and cool, a stark contrast to the stifling atmosphere inside. You take a deep breath, feeling the cold air fill your lungs. It brings a strange sense of clarity.

"Mary," Alex says softly, his voice breaking through your thoughts. "What are you thinking?"

You glance at him, then look away, focusing on the horizon. "I'm cold."

Alex chuckles softly and shrugs off his jacket, draping it over your shoulders. "Here, this should help," he says. His jacket is warm but it doesn't chase all of the chill away.

"Thank you," you murmur, pulling it tighter around yourself. The gesture warms more than just your body; it feels like a small shield against the outside world.

He looks at you with a mixture of concern and curiosity. "It's not just the cold, is it? You're thinking about what they said in there."

You sigh, the weight of the evening pressing down on you. "It's hard not to," you admit. "They don't understand, and they never will."

Alex nods, his eyes full of empathy. "Maybe not. But who cares what they think? You've got me and Nigel. That's what matters."

The days blur together as you prepare for Cambridge. The packing, the planning, all feel like motions you go through without truly feeling them. Alex’s sudden disappearance gnaws at you, a hollow pit in your stomach that grows with each passing hour.

Detective Mackenzie arrives unannounced one morning, his presence a dark cloud in your already stormy world. He steps into your dorm room, eyes scanning the packed boxes and scattered belongings.

"Mary," he starts, his tone measured, "we need to talk."

You cross your arms over your swollen belly, feeling the baby shift inside you. "What happened this time?”

His eyes stare at your belly for an extended period, he certainly did not expect you to be pregnant.

"Detective?" You enunciate, drawing his attention away from your protruding belly. "I assume this is no social call?"

"Susan's grave has been dug up," he says, each word heavy with implication. "Her head was taken from her body."

You blink, processing the grotesque news. "And what does that have to do with me?" you ask, keeping your voice steady. "As you can see, I am plenty busy packing for Cambridge."

Mackenzie steps closer, his gaze intense and unyielding. "Everything around you seems to be falling apart," he says softly. "And you're at the center of it."

You feel a flicker of irritation but push it down. "I've had enough tragedy in my life," you reply coldly. "I didn't dig up Susan's grave. I've no point to and I think we both know that is a task I would not be able to do.” His eyes drop to your stomach for a brief moment before he clears his throat.

"I'm not here to interrogate your whereabouts," he says in correction. "I'm here to ask about Alex's whereabouts."

The question catches you off guard. Alex? You try to mask your confusion and worry, but your pulse quickens. "Alex?" you echo, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. "Why would you need to know about him?"

"Because," Mackenzie replies, taking a step back and folding his arms across his chest, "he's missing."

"And?" The detective has to work to keep his eyes from rolling in frustration, even more when all he wishes is to go off on you, a pregnant teenager.

Mackenzie sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. "Alex has been missing for several days now," he says. "Given the recent events, his relationship with Susan, and his connection to you, we need to know if you have any information on his whereabouts."

You shake your head, frustration bubbling up. "I don't know where Alex went," you reply, meeting his gaze head-on. "I don't dictate where he goes. He's not a child."

Mackenzie’s eyes narrow slightly, studying your expression. "Mary, I understand that you're under a lot of stress right now," he says slowly. "But given everything that's happened—Susan's death, the bullies, now this—it's crucial that we find him."

You let out a bitter laugh. "And you think I have all the answers? My life has been controlled by my father for as long as I can remember and still is. Can you blame Alex for wanting some freedom?"

The detective's face softens just a fraction. "I'm not blaming you," he says, his tone gentler now. "But I need to understand what's going on here. If Alex reached out to you or mentioned anything about where he might be going, it could help us find him."

You shake your head again, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on you. "He didn't tell me anything," you insist. "He's been under our father's thumb too. Maybe he just needed to get away from all of this. I wouldn’t blame him…”

Mackenzie nods slowly, absorbing your words. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "Alright," he says finally. "If you hear anything from him or remember something that could help us find him, please contact me immediately."

You nod in agreement, though you have intention of following though. As Mackenzie turns to leave, a thought flickers in your mind—Perhaps Alex did have something to do with Susan's head missing. Maraclea. Your lips twitch as you decide you will say nothing.

The detective pauses at the door, turning back to give you one last look. "Take care of yourself, Mary," he says softly before stepping out and closing the door behind him.

Date Published: 7/31/24

Last Edit: 7/31/24

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[narcissosbythepool]

Continuing GhostPrice fighter AU (crossposting from my twitter again)

Part 1 here

Cw: mild violence, mentions of substance abuse, suggestive language, some trauma foreshadowing

*

It's the aftermath of a completely pointless and insignificant win that changes Ghost's entire life.

"Hey."

Ghost doesn't look up from where he's brooding. His ribs are sore, he's bleeding from his brow, and he's not in the mood for a chat now.

Someone steps in front of him and he frowns. Who the fuck is this?

"What do you want?" he finally grumbles and looks up.

He's somewhat surprised at the person stood in front of him. He expected some young guy trying to provoke him after his fight, but it's an older man (late 30s? Early 40s? Older than himself, either way) with some truly impressive mutton chops.

"Wondering if you'd like to learn to win by fighting better rather than just outlasting your opponent."

Ghost gives him an unimpressed look.

"Why do you care? I keep winning, don't I?"

The man smiles. It's not a kind smile – it's a challenging one, like Ghost is a grumpy teen throwing a tantrum.

"You can do better. I would like to see it happen."

Ghost's kneejerk reaction is to tell the guy to fuck off. He's just some wannabe-fighter. He looks like an idiot in the beanie and windbreaker.

But something in the way he carries himself catches his eye. It's confident, but not in a cocky way like the guys that sometimes show up to try to rile him up.

He looks tough. Toughened. Learned.

"And you think you can teach me?"

"I know I can."

"You taught before?"

The man's lips twitch in amusement. "I've done my share."

"So why'd your student quit?"

This makes the man laugh out loud.

"I see you're a bit of a challenge. Want to drop by the gym and do a couple rounds?"

Ghost raises a brow.

"That's not a euphemism. I do actually own a gym."

He should say no. He really should.

Maybe this guy's a creep. A serial killer. Maybe he sucks at fighting. Maybe he's all talk.

But maybe. Maybe there really is a gym. Ghost has been haunting his own life for so long that it doesn't feel like his own anymore.

He'll take the lifeline.

"Fine."

Worst case scenario he doesn't have to worry about rent anymore.

There is a gym.

It's after hours but Price ("John Price, former fighter, I own a gym with my friend") lets them in with his keys and punches in the security codes before opening the door for Ghost to step in. The gym is not particularly special but it's clean, and a set of dull cement stairs lead them to the basement where a ring is waiting for them.

Ghost starts getting a little excited, now, his blood pumping heavy in his ears. This man, John Price, might be the real deal – Ghost was polite enough not to google him on the walk here, but he'll put it on his to-do list at once.

"This is where the magic happens," Price says, walking to the ring and then leaning on the ropes, watching the mat wistfully.

"I see you're missing the mat already."

"You're a cheeky one, aren't you?"

"You have no idea."

Price finally takes him to the changing room.

"You ready for another round?"

"Right now?"

"That's why I'm asking."

Ghost really wants to wipe that smirk off his face.

"I'm ready. Are you?"

Price replies by unzipping his jacket and underneath is a tight, dark green tshirt that shows off his toned physique and Ghost's mouth goes dry, the embers of irritation turning into a flame of yearning – of attraction, of excitement for a challenge, and from the glint in Price's eyes, he's taken note of the fire that now devours Ghost.

Price hands his ass to him in the ring.

Ghost is stronger ("you hit like a fucking freight train") but Price is better, knows the strategy to beating an opponent bigger and heavier than him, and the fight ends with both of them bruised, Ghost held down on the mat by Price, until he taps out.

"Please teach me," he asks politely, lying on his stomach, trying to heave air back into his lungs. Price detaches himself from Ghost and sits down on the floor next to him, wiping off sweat from his brow.

"What's your real name, son?"

Ghost swallows.

"Simon. Simon Riley."

"So, Riley," Price starts.

Ghost bristles at that a bit.

"I'd rather you not call me that."

Price looks at him over his shoulder.

"Simon? Or Ghost?"

"Simon's fine."

"Simon then." Price smiles cheekily. "You'll call me 'coach' or 'sir', is that clear?"

The demand of authority makes Ghost's guts stir with some mix of arousal and amusement. Price probably likes to feel important.

He wonders if Price would let Ghost call him sir in bed.

"Alright, Simon. I need you to stop smoking. And drinking."

Ghost feels a flare of irritation.

"I don't drink." His tone is definite, raw on the edges.

"...Alright. Hm. Now, no judgement here but. Do you do any other drugs?"

"..."

"No need to glare at me. If you don't, good. If you do, quit them. Then I'll coach you."

"Those are the requirements?"

"Those are the requirements."

"So when can I start?"

Price smiles, and this time the teasing edge is no longer there, just a warm and open smile that makes Ghost feel a little flustered.

"Right now works. Simon."

"Yes, sir?"

Price's smile turns into a wicked grin.

"Cooldown."

[macabre-discotheque]

I really do think you're wonderful.

Hello you! I have another little story I've had cooking in the brainpan for awhile! I would like to thank my good friend @mouse-bones for beta reading and giving me feedback!!

Constructive criticism is much appreciated, I want to get better!

Word Count: 696 words

“Come on, Pasc! I think it would look lovely on you,”

“I know! It’s just, you know how makeup makes me feel, Wally..”

“Just once? I won’t ask you again if you don’t like it this time, and if you get uncomfortable halfway through, you can tell me to stop. Promise.”

“…Okay,”

Wally gave Pascal a smile from the vanity and walked over to the bed to press a kiss to their cheek, hugging them right after. He stood back up and walked back to the vanity mirror to grab his makeup set, all while the latter finished buttoning up their shirt to go out later on. Pascal looked down at their hands as they waited for Wally to call them to the mirror.

…Too soft, quit biting your nails…

“Alright, I have my things, can you sit by the vanity? It makes it a bit easier,”

“Mhmm,” Pascal stood up and grabbed a chair to sit on the opposite side of the bedroom by the mirror they always saw Wally using in the mornings. Wally sat across from them with a palette and some brushes.

“Just let me know if you need me to stop, Pascy,” Wally explained as he grabbed the eyeshadow palette and brush and patted it into orange pigment, “Now close your eyes, and stay still for me, please?”

Pascal sat there, looking between Wally and the brush. They nodded and closed their eyes, as the brush began to paint color on their face, deja vu hit them like a freight train. The assortment of colors and the way the brush patted their eyelids, it reminded them of a different time that felt far clearer than they recalled, even after nearly 10 years.

“Hm, I feel like I’m back in high school,”

“What makes you say so, darling?”

“My sister did makeup on me once for a dance, I don’t remember what she did but I just remember feeling kind of weird,” Pascal muttered, fidgeting uncomfortably with their hands as they did their best to sit still.

Wally hummed in acknowledgment, not making any further conversation as he kept going. He switched between tools occasionally. Working with a quick but steady hand, wanting to avoid drawing the process on for longer than necessary.

“Alright, aalmostt done…Just one more thing, can you purse your lips out for me?” Wally grabbed some lipstick from the drawer in the vanity, opened it up, and twisted the bottom. He applied it to Pascal’s bottom lip and made a gesture for them to apply it to their upper lip as well.

“There, all finished,” Wally grabbed a handheld mirror after closing the lipstick and showed Pascal’s reflection to themselves, “What do you think?”

Pascal’s eyes widened as they saw themselves in the mirror, they gently took the mirror from Wally’s hands and stared into the eyes of the person who looked back at them. Despite everything, despite all they’ve been through.

It was still them.

“…Do you not like it?” Wally seemed to shrink in on himself, though Pascal was quick to ease his worries.

“No! I mean- It’s…It’s not bad just… I didn’t think I’d look so…pretty? I kind of like the eyeshadow, I don’t think the lipstick matches very well though.” They said as they kept their focus on the mirror, quirking an eyebrow at the blue lipstick. Wally on the other hand visibly calmed down, a smile forming on his face.

“Oh that was for me… would you want to try this again sometime?” Wally looked at Pascal with his big doe eyes, there was nothing to match Wally’s joy when Pascal nodded their head.

They took another look at the mirror before they put it back on the table.

“Hey, isn’t this your lipstick color? Why’d you put it on m- Mph!” Pascal nearly fell backward as Wally lurched forward to press his lips against theirs. After what felt like an eternity, Wally pulled away with a giggle, leaving Pascal with flushed cheeks and a surprised look.

“That’s why. I wanted to kiss you,”

“If you do that again while we’re at Julie’s, I’m going to throw you out.”

“That isn’t very nice,”

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Telepathy AU Pt 2

Lena opens her eyes to find herself in the infirmary, with Kara on the next bed over still soundly unconscious. Alex sits between the feet of their beds, her elbows on her knees and her features haggard. She perks up a little when she sees Lena's return to wakefulness.

After checking in on Lena's condition-- just tired (hit by a freight train exhausted, actually, with a headache to match)--Alex gets to meat of the matter.

"We came back to find the place looking like a tornado came through, and you two on the floor." Alex runs a hand over her eyes, betraying how worried they'd made her. "What the hell happened?"

Lena fights a scowl as she looks over at Kara. "She was going to sacrifice herself. Again."

Alex curses. "Son of a bitch," she mutters. "I thought she'd gotten better about that."

"Evidently not." Lena manages to work her way up to sitting. With Alex's help, she makes it, and once there she grips Alex's hand tight. "I had to stop her. This was the only way I knew how."

Alex's eyebrows rocket skyward. "Wait-- you did this?"

Lena nods.

"And the lab?"

At that, Lena hesitates. "I'm not sure what that was. But yeah-- also me."

Once she's sure Lena can remain upright on her own, Alex sits down beside her on the bed. "Jesus Christ."

"I just couldn't let her do it. I--" Her breath catches. "I couldn't let her go."

"I know," Alex assures her, covering Lena's hand with her own. "And thank you."

Together, they gaze at Kara for a long moment. Then...

"Sooooo... how long are we going to keep her asleep?"

Lena's jaw tightens. "Until we can think of a way to stop them."

Alex nods.

"Then we better get to it."

---

Lena doesn't necessarily feel good about keeping Kara asleep. Kelly tries to talk her into another course of action, which Lena appreciates but in lieu of another option to contain a Kryptonian, she remains firm in her decision. Alex similarly finds herself unwilling to bend. Not when it comes to her sister's life.

But as the hours wear on, Lena finds herself wondering exactly how she did it. Not just the explosion they're still cleaning up, but putting Kara to sleep in the first place. She hadn't even really thought about it. She'd just reached out in desperation for a way to stop Kara, and-- this was the outcome.

Not only that, but she finds she doesn't have to reapply the spell or charm or whatever it is keeping Kara asleep. Her friend simply sleeps on, oblivious to the world.

But how??

Just as concerning is the way Kara feels both gone and present at the same time. Lena hears the way Kara would reassure her, imagines the tone of her voice, her inflection and expression as clearly as if she were standing right next to her. As though Kara were missing, not asleep.

It makes no logical or emotional sense, and it unsettles Lena. Something just isn't right about the whole thing, and not just the morality of it. It physically feels off.

And it doesn't help that she still has a splitting headache.

It isn't until the next morning that it all comes to a head. She's running another simulation on the backup computer when Kara's voice issues over her shoulder.

"Rao, you're so smart."

Lena pivots so quickly her hair fans out behind her and flicks her sharply on the far cheek. A reprimand fights for dominance on her tongue against the rise of an apology, expecting Kara to be awake and sheepishly standing there.

The command center is empty.

Breathing heavy in alarm, Lena's eyes flick across the room, seeking any remotely possible source of the sound. When nothing avails itself, she taps on her tablet with trembling fingers to pull up the video feed of the infirmary.

There Kara was, still resting.

"Wait. You heard me? You heard me!"

The voice comes again, but Kara's sleeping lips don't even so much as twitch.

Lena quietly reaches for her own wrist, feeling for her own pulse.

"There's nothing wrong with you, Lena," Kara says, sounding exasperated. "It's me. It's Kara. Don't panic, okay?"

Mouth suddenly going dry, Lena fumbles to take a seat at the console, relieving her suddenly shaking legs of her weight.

"Good idea," the voice continues. "That's it. Look, there's no easy way for me to say this, but-- I'm in your head."

"Kara?"

"Yeah, I know. Sounds crazy, but you're not crazy, I swear. I woke up a little after you did? I think? You were already up and about, and I swear I tried to get your attention, but you couldn't seem to hear me. And do not ask me how you can hear me, I have no idea. Best I can figure is that our minds somehow linked when you tried to put me to sleep--"

At that, the ramble cuts off abruptly.

"You put me to sleep!"

Lena winces as the shout sends a stabbing pain through her frontal lobe.

"Oh. Sorry. But-- you put me to sleep."

"YOU were going to noble sacrifice yourself. Excuse me if I wanted you to live a little longer!"

She can feel rather than hear Kara pout. "That's not your decision to make."

"Well, clearly you can't be trusted with it, so I took matters into my own hands." Lena scowls, tossing her tablet onto the table in front of her. "And your sister agrees with me, so."

"You told Alex?"

Suddenly, Kara's voice turns quiet. Lena decides to take pity, and softens.

"What else could I do?" she asks. "I rather like my head where it is, thanks."

Kara laughs, the sound spreading through Lena's mind like a soothing balm. It eases her headache, and she finds herself chuckling as well.

"Who are you talking to?"

Lena turns to see Nia and Alex and Kelly staring at her in a mix of concern and confusion, their bags of takeout all but forgotten in their hands.

Jaw working soundlessly, Lena struggles to find words to fib with, but a little nudge in her mind reminds her she's not alone.

"Might as well do this," Kara urges gently, still sounding like a smile.

Lena sighs.

"Okay."

She rises to her feet and meets her friends' gazes head on.

"You're not going to believe this."

[lewmagoo]

daddy rhett giving you an warm bath when you’re sick and running a fever. just imagine how sweet he is to you whenever you’re not feeling alright, just acting like a mother hen and giving you lots of love and cuddles.

lyra

please. he'd be such an attentive daddy. have a little drabble:

you couldn't remember a time when you'd been this ill. it hit you like a freight train. body aches. chills. overwhelming fatigue that made even something as simple as climbing out of bed seem impossible. you tried to muster the strength, but you could not. and the main problem was, the one who would normally take care of you at a time like this, was at work. rhett had left that morning before you woke up, so he had no idea about this sickness that had overwhelmed you. all he knew was that, the night before, you had claimed you weren't feeling well.

he didn't know you were currently huddled in bed, trying to muster the strength to reach over and grab your phone from the night stand. you knew you could not be alone in this state. you were afraid you would pass out, or fall and end up hurting yourself. so, you lifted a trembling hand to grab your phone, barely managing to tap rhett's contact and hit the call button. he answered two rings later. "hey there, sugar," he greeted you. you could hear the sounds of nature on the other end. he was probably in the pastures.

"rh-rhett?" you croaked. immediately, he was on alert. "what's wrong?" he asked. you let out an involuntary whimper, tears already springing to your eyes. "need you. i...i'm sick and i...please, i just need you to come home," you cried softly. rhett knew it had to be bad if you were calling him away from his work. he was already making a beeline for the truck. "think y're hospital sick?" he asked, climbing into the driver's seat and starting up the engine.

"i d-don't know. don't think so. just...jus' real tired and hot," you slurred. rhett hummed concernedly. "i'm on my way, bunny. sit tight." after which, you promptly dropped your phone and dozed back off into a short, fever induced nap. that is, until you felt the bed dip, and a large, warm hand pressing against your forehead. you slowly opened your bleary eyes, whining softly as you barely made out the form of rhett hovering over you.

"daddy," you squeaked, mournfully. "shh, i'm right here. you're burnin' up, little darlin'. i'm gon' run you a bath." he lingered for a moment, gazing down at you. you looked worse for wear, entirely delirious. looking at you, it didn't appear serious enough to make the hour long drive to the hospital. but he was going to watch you like a hawk just in case things got worse.

he took it upon himself to run you a bath, and once the water was an acceptable temperature and depth, he came back to the bedroom to gather you in his arms. you hardly registered him so gently and carefully undressing you, only becoming aware of it once he eased you into the warm bath. he soothed you when you mumbled in protest. "you're okay, bunny. gotta get this fever down." he proceeded to run a wash cloth over your skin, humming an old mountain melody as he cared for you.

in fact, he spent the rest of the day taking care of you. he dressed you in clean pajamas after your bath, he gave you medicine to help reduce your fever, he wrapped you up in the quilt his grandma had made long ago, the quilt he always liked to call "the sick quilt" because he had always burrowed under it whenever he was sick as a kid, and swore it made him feel better. he even made a pot of his mama's chicken noodle soup, which she always swore could cure anything.

you were far too feverish and delirious to fully process or thank him for all he was doing. but it didn't matter. rhett's only concern was getting you well again. he hated seeing you so upset and uncomfortable. and he wouldn't rest until you were right as rain, because if there was one thing he was good at, it was taking care of his darling girl.

[honey-dont]

Despite reading all your posts abt it I still have no idea what Bigtop Burger is skfkskdk HOWEVER I would still like to hear abt your StEx AU :]

YAY ty for enabling me <3

(it's an animated show on youtube and it's super good!! it's about Totally Normal™ rival food trucks except one of them is run by an alien clown who was banished from his home planet for getting stage fright during a production of cats the musical and the other one is run by a 1000-year-old zombie bounty hunter who is also italian. there's only about an hour's worth of content between all the current eps/songs and it has me grasped by the scruff of the neck like a misbehaving kitten)

sticking this under a cut bc my god the rambling

just focusing on zomburger rn bc they're my beloveds <3 they're a short-line freight train!

-

cesare is a converted oil-burning steamer who used to be a passenger engine once upon a time before getting stuck on freight duty. he's lowkey pissed about essentially getting demoted and goes out of his way to cause problems on purpose - he's extremely petty and WILL slow down whenever he sees a passenger train so they can't pass due to freight having right of rail! has a one-sided rivalry going on with renown tourist train 'the bigtop' (they're more baffled by his antics than anything else tbh)

he got a little fucked up during the conversion process so he'll leak oil from his eyes/mouth sometimes, it's gross </3 his crew doesn't really care tho since they're freight so they're used to grime

frances: were you guys making out again

doctor, face completely covered in oil: no

he totally does NOT care about his freight so what if he makes them sleep in his stall during bad weather so he can keep an eye on them to make sure they're safe it doesn't mean ANYTHING shut up.

(he also never turns his headlight off so his eyes always glow but that's not bc of the conversion he's just a weirdo)

-

doctor is a gondola! he usually carries junk/scrap metal. he'll do that social experiment thing where if you hand someone something while talking to them they'll take it without even thinking. you're having a conversation with him and suddenly you're holding a copy of the atari E.T. game

he'll save things that he thinks are neat or that the others will like! expresses affection by giving you garbage :)

is totally unfazed by the rotary dumper (it freaks everyone else out), very skilled at heckling coaches, and will eat human food (what is wrong with him)

-

conrad is a hazmat tanker and he wears goggles for safety :) why is a short-line carrying hazardous material? don't worry about it. he's v big and v strong and a lil dumb but doing his best! will pick up frances and doctor and carry them around sometimes

he'll also drink his load if he thinks he can get away with it (he is not sneaky starlight bless him). man chugs hydrochloric acid like powerade. kind of scared of humans, they creep him out a bit

-

frances is a transfer caboose and she's basically cesare's right hand man brake van in this scenario bc she's more than happy to be a nuisance!

cesare: FRANCES HIT THE BRAKES WE NEED TO BE AN I N C O N V E N I E N C E

frances: on it boss (saluting emoji)

she was converted from a flatcar (she still has the lil fangs) but she generally tends to get along better with coaches (loves her boys tho). she LOVES having passengers bc she thinks humans are super cute <3

she'll hack into other train's radio frequencies and eavesdrop/interrupt/pass along the hot gossip to everyone else. she'll also tune into stations and sing along to songs sometimes (cesare will tell her to cut that shit out and then 3 seconds later ask if she can get anything italian)

-

last random cute thing before i am forcibly dragged off stage!! freight naturally have black nails so they all paint theirs blue to match with cesare <3

[deaddboywalking]

Hey, it's Rem. I haven't posted in awhile, so I'm gonna post my DPS fanfic (that's also on AO3 gimme those Kudos)

TRIGGER WARNING!!!

This is Dead Poet's Society, Neil doesn't die in this one (spoilers srry) BUT THAT SCENE STILL TAKES PLACE!! When I say hurt/comfort and su*c*de attempt I MEAN IT!!

This fic is 1357 words long, so it's a short read. This is also an Anderperry fic. And, one last time, WARNING, it's dark.

If you're still here, it means you're ready to READ THIS FIC ALREADY (I'm srry, housekeeping is important </3) So, with out further ado,

Confessions by DeaddBoyWalking

When I was four years old, I watched a man kill himself on live television. It was some politician, someone important. I'm not important. I'm just some kid. Some 17-year-old kid whose dreams have just been stolen from out under his feet. I'm a nobody with nothing to live for. And now it's my turn.

It's quiet as I creep down the stairs to my father's study, the crown of flowers I wore as Puck clutched in my hands. I cringe as one of the floorboards creaks under my feet, but I continue on.

Just a few more steps. I promise myself. Just a few more steps and this will all be over. I feel tears welling in my eyes as I open the door to my father's office. Is this selfish of me? I sigh and shake off the lingering doubt. Now wasn't the time for second guessing. I continue on, into the office and to the desk.

What would Todd think?

The thought catches me by surprise. What would he think? Scowling, I try to push the thought aside as I open the top drawer of the desk. I reach to the back of the drawer, feeling around until I feel the cool silver under my fingertips. Clasping the key close to my chest, I take in a shaky breath.

It's now or never.

My hand trembling, I stick the key into the keyhole in the bottom drawer. I give it a twist and pull the drawer out. Inside, wrapped in a handkerchief, is my father's revolver. Realisation hits me like a freight train.

I'm really doing this. I'm about to fucking kill myself... What will Todd think.

"Fuck," I mumble, picking myself up off the floor. Now isn't the time to think about Todd. I set the gun on the desk and as I sit in my father's chair, I rub my eyes, trying to remove Todd from my thoughts.

There has to be a reason for this. A reason that my own brain is torturing me further with the thought of him.

I stare at the gun.

Why does he do this to me? Why must my every waking moment be filled with thoughts of him, even when I'm about to take my own life?

My hand twitches.

Why do I have to care about him? He's just a boy. Just my roommate. Just... Just my closest friend.

I feel my thoughts race. I reach for the gun and pick it up.

Why... Why does any of this matter?

I put the gun to my head. I breathe in, tears flowing freely.

Because I love him.

I go to pull the trigger, squeezing my eyes tightly shut.

Goodbye.

Before I can squeeze the trigger, a sudden noise in the silence startles me.

Knock Knock Knock

Frightened, I drop the gun, my whole body quivering. The noise sounds again.

Knock Knock Knock

Someone's at the front door. I quickly pick up the gun and wrap it in its handkerchief, shoving it back into the drawer I got it from. My breathing is shaky and desperate. I'm terrified.

I stand slowly from the chair, creeping my way towards the door to the hallway. The knocking seems to have stopped. I linger in the doorway for a moment, before continuing slowly, quietly down the hallway. The knocking sounds a final time, more frantic than the others.

KnockKnockKnockKnockKnock

I undo the bolt and latch, opening the door slightly to peek through. There's a figure there, shivering in the falling snow. I open the door further to get a better look. Todd.

"Neil..?" His voice is quiet and gentle, "Neil is that you?" Still shaking, I pull the door open more. I'm in nothing but pyjama pants and the cold bites at my chest and arms.

"Todd," I begin, staring down at him, "What are you doing here?" The other boy only wrings his hands before responding.

"I-I followed you. I was worried, Neil. I was worried about you." He's shivering just as bad as I am, so I usher him in quickly.

"My parents will have you thrown out of Welton if they find you," I say, watching as he takes off his coat and shoes. He looks up at me, snow clinging to his hair and eyelashes. I think back to what I was thinking just a few moments earlier.

Because I love him.

"I know," He says, "But I don't care." His piercing blue eyes gaze up at me as we stand there. He cocks his head, "Neil, why are you still wearing the crown?"

I'd forgotten I was wearing it. I reach up and take it off of my head.

"It's nothing," I reply plainly, shifting the costume piece between my hands. He gives me a skeptical look.

"You're a bad liar, Neil," His voice is gentle as he reaches out to me. I flinch away, startling him, "What's wrong?" I must look shaken because his eyes are filled with worry.

"Neil, I'm sorry- Please tell me what's wrong," I sigh and slowly shake my head.

"I'll tell you," I promise, "Can we please just go up to my room first? If my parents know you're here and you get expelled..." I trail off, but he seems to understand.

"Okay, we can do that," He says softly. He reaches out again, and this time I let him. His hand cups my face as I sigh quietly.

"I'm sorry, Todd," I whisper, leaning into the touch.

"There's nothing to be sorry for," He replies, wiping a tear from my eye. This only makes the tears flow more.

"But there is, Todd," I say, placing my hand over his, "I promise I'll explain in a moment, all right?" He nods, seemingly unbothered by my touch. We stand like that for a moment, silent, gazing at each other. I turn away first, dropping my hand and pulling back from him.

I silently lead the way up the stairs to my room. Todd follows close behind, carrying his coat and shoes. As we pass my father's office, he eyes it curiously. I shake my head, motioning for him to follow. He continues eyeing the door, but follows. When we reach my room, I usher him inside, quietly closing the door behind us.

"Sit anywhere you want," I whisper, sitting on the edge of the bed. He sits down next to me, so close our shoulders brush. My face flushes at the touch, which I hope he can't see in the dim light.

"Neil," He begins, "What's wrong? I know something is, with the way you and your father left." I anxiously fidget with the flower crown before setting it aside. Breathe, Neil.

"My father is enrolling me in military school," I say matter-of-factly, "He will never let me be an actor." I close my eyes and turn away from Todd, "I'm sorry."

Todd sighs, "Neil... Neil there's nothing to be apologising for," He promises me. I frown and shake my head.

"Todd, you don't understand," I say, "I'd rather be dead than go to military school. Than to never be an actor." To never have you. I shake my head in frustration, balling my fists. Tears well in my eyes and I sniffle softly.

"Oh, Neil..." His face is filled with a mixture of horror and pain, "Neil, is that what you were doing when I got here?" I nod grimly. Todd's eyes seem full of dread as he clasps my hand in his.

"Neil, I'm so sorry," He says, "I-I can't stop your father, but..." He lets out a frustrated sigh, squeezing my hand tightly, "But I don't think I could bear to lose you." I blink. He'd caught me off guard with that. I shift slightly closer to him, rubbing the tears from my eyes.

"I don't think I could, either," I reply. I knew I couldn't. I couldn't live without him, I loved him too much. He squeezes my hand reassuringly and rests his head on my shoulder. I breathe in.

"Todd," I begin.

"Yes?"

"I love you."

Silence. Then...

"I love you too, Neil."

END FIC

Wowzers, that was rough. Either way, if you enjoyed it, notes are very much appreciated!! And if you ever feel so inclined, check out my AO3 (same username) I'm currently rewriting the first chapter of my original work House of Wolves (yes, the MCR song) and should be getting that posted soon!!

But yep, that's it! Have a fantastic day/night (it's 2am here) and be kind to yourself and others! Peace!

-♣️

(ps I'm including the song that was my fav to listen to while I worked on this fic)

[mrmajesticcircle]

A Wicked Wiccan Supper

You save up the merchant ships for all my pain.

Make a hit list for all your gain.

Wipe down the blood spills with a washcloth, mixing it; drowning it in Clorox bleach and Gain.

She hopes to flood her consciousness with sounds of soulful blues, and ole' Campton spirituals, make believe that she can find salvation in her self righteous attitude to sacrifice her very own Oracle ; metallic doll.

She knows by now that it's a financial magnet, but she resistant of the feeling even though it's estrogen cooking within her inner wok a precognitive reality that seemed to like being left to play in a melting pot all alone.

Searing my conscience bow and arrow.

My mind.

Buying anything that seems to be the leader.

What can oatamently sacrifice my separated bones.

Minced the world that is the most threatening for a undefeated purpose, and that will deflect you.

I have learned that you obviously want to make a stew of me.

Preparing me slowly to be consumable.

My blood you like to shed is the broth and the red wine.

My organs are beef .

My situation is vegan mixed with friends of your fruit and vegetables of the crutches submitted by my fate.

Either way it's a animal crossing.

You usually think you can violate me.

It's the animal wayward resurgence.

You feel better as you double cross me.

Whilst you carry on; play on inertia .

Disassemble my name for the virtual myresa.

I hate when you say you don't understand.

In your mind you're merry; pretending to not be under influence, because you're getting drunk of my sifted wings.

If you're meditating to feast your eyes; fix my energized engine to be fresh, and tenderized beautiful girl.

I hope the feathers and scales strip away the pleasure of the main course.

Big deal with a Wicked Wiccan Supper if it's okay, but only one of me.

Now you want to prevent ventilation; the stove top oven roasting my head, just to keep the moisture.

It's a sign of the time.

A cannibal world.

Put a silver bullet to my head in the open season.

Take a silver steak to the heart, and drive a nail in my side to see how you bind me in spirit, flesh and blood.

We are bad blood.

We've been doing time in different places, but you want to be made my owner, and sell me out.

For the winter.

For the noun.

For the now; for the next.

For the dream.

For revenge.

Revelation.

Justification.

Until the end.

The day we meet again, that I am written off.

Ripped off.

Being preserved only to descend in a world of total chaos and domestic violence.

The heat wave is the heat stroke, can't move out of the path wherein.

Suddenly, I realize that this is the pathogen; a wicked indulgence, or an appetite to manslaughter every part of me.

Out of Greensboro.

Out of greed.

Out of fear.

In a competitive spirit.

For sport, all for bragging rights.

A championship.

Renowned titles.

Because you want to believe you're a freight train that can run me down.

A warlord who is empowering just to find someone to gun us down.

Maybe it's just the paranoia thawing a haunting in me.

Freezer burning in me the other skies of judgement. I don't have to make a move into the other side, I'm just too stiff; impelled inside my mind of fear, the feeling of losing the sense I rely on to surrender.

This is the wicked Wiccan Supper appraised.

Only when I pull you down, and drag you underneath the coal.

Simmering into the finalized stage to end us all, I will see you screaming.

The wicked Wiccan Supper.

Authorship by Mr Dashaun Rashod Snipes

©Mr Dashaun Rashod Snipes

[humanoidalien27]

Content warning: the use of the torture curse, talking about past trauma and evil intentions.

.....

Chapter 8

Animagus

    Changing was painful and you absolutely hated it. You hadn't even attempted to get up, not that Ominis didn't scoop you up despite trying to scratch him.

"She's lively," Sebastian teased, getting you to grumble, which came out a growl instead.

"You were exhausted the first time you changed too," Felix reminded, before his eyes looked at you. "Unfortunately, out of all of our animagi forms, yours is the easiest to sneak inside the castle."

You huffed as Sebastian tried to scratch your head, so you hissed, getting a chuckle from Ominis.

"That's unfair, why can't I pet you? You let Ominis hold you."

The words were thick with jealousy, getting Ominis and Felix to look at him. "I'm not answering that AGAIN," Ominis replied.

"Alright, you can change back." Felix mentioned, so Ominis put you back down on the floor.

You almost screamed as you shifted back, remaining face first on the floor for a second.

"How are you doing?" Sebastian asked.

"Everything hurts," you admitted, seeing his hand move in your field of view, so you took it. "Come on, up you go."

He pulled you up to your feet, though you still felt very wobbly and leaned on the wall beside Ominis to remain upright.

"So, you'll sneak in and get to a professor you trust. I'll fly around to keep an eye on you, while Ominis and Sebastian wait in the forest for a signal."

"My animagus form can sneak in too. I'm cute and adorable," Sebastian said, getting everyone to share the same dubious expression. "Hey, it is cute. Ask anyone. Besides, it's better than if he followed her in."

"Ominis's animagi form speaks to his personality. A loner with an empathic side and strong ties to those he cares for. Leave him alone."

That was obviously not the reaction he wanted, but Felix cut over his remark. "Alright, you'll head in, while they wait outside in the forest line."

You nodded, though you weren't ready to go anywhere at the moment.

"Does it have to keep hurting?"

Ominis pulled you to lean against him as Felix moved close to check your eyes.

"You've finished the transformation, so it should be easier next time." He looked at Sebastian and Ominis. "We'll head out tomorrow, for now, we should get some rest."

       In your animagus form, you trotted towards the school grounds rather quickly, hearing Felix flying high above you and knowing Ominis and Sebastian weren't too far.

The last voice you wanted to hear as you crossed the gates was Draken's.

"Neither of them have shown up for school?"

Professor Black scoffed. "No, neither, but what does this have to do with those pages? If anyone finds out about them-"

"No one will have that chance. Knowing that Sallow boy and Felix, they'd already showed them both, which means they need to die too. It's the only way."

Panic set in as you tried to remain still, but Draken took notice of you.

"Why are there cats everywhere around here? This is a school, not a petting zoo." He pulled his want out. "Crui-"

Professor Black caught his arm. "If a student should happen to see you doing that, there will be more to explain than three dead kids."

You raced towards the doors, slipping inside as one of the students opened the door.

An explosion of noise hit like a freight train as you headed further into the building, having to wait for students to open the doors.

At least until you spotted Poppy, Natty and Garreth heading in the direction you needed.

"It's strange to think Sebastian kidnapped them," Poppy whispered as you approached. "You don't think he's going to hurt them, do you?"

"Maybe we should try to find them?" Natty offered as you passed them as Garreth opened the door.

"I'd like to say no, but a lot can change in a few months."

    You made it to the room of requirement, and transformed back, effectively scaring Desk, who had been tending to the beasts.

"Ah, you're back. We've been very worried about you."

You moved over to him, the serious expression making the smile he gave you fade slowly.

"Can you bring professor Weasley here, without alerting anyone else?"

"Uh, yes," he said before he disapparated.

You glanced around, remembering times where things made sense, or at least more than they did now.

"Oh, thank you Deek," professor Weasley said, drawing your eyes as she looked at you. "You're alright!"

"For now at least. I have some news professor and it's not good."

She nodded as she motioned for you to sit at one of your tables.

Taking a breath, you sat down, with her taking the other.

"What's this all about? And how are you being kidnapped by Mr. Sallow fit into it?"

"It all started when Ominis and I went on the training tour of Azkaban. Draken brought us by Sebastian's cell. He said there was something going on and innocent people were dying."

"In Azkaban?"

You nodded as you pulled the documents from your bag. "It is all true. They've been locking up citizens who haven't done anything wrong and making sure the dementors kill them if anyone goes to investigate their cases."

She took the pages and started to look through them. "But why?"

"The goblin rebellion was started by the Ministry to hide their dirty secrets. They poked at an old wound they knew would rile them up. Rookwood, Harlow, Ranrok, were all funded by Ministry shareholders or secret bank accounts and then all they had to do was wait for wounds to rip open and chaos to ensue. Half the aurors are dark wizards and witches freely using the unforgivable curses. Heck, Draken almost used one on me as I tried coming into Hogwarts."

Her eyes locked with yours. "He tried to use it on a student?"

"Well, I didn't exactly look like a student at the time," you admitted, not that it made it any better.

"Sebastian killed his uncle, that's why he was sent to Azkaban."

You nodded and turned the pages to the marked page and pointed at it.

She sighed and read it, her face becoming more stern by the second.

"Solomon was working with Rookwood. He planned to kill me and Sebastian in that crypt, so Sebastian was only defending himself. They didn't even give him a real trial to hide their crimes."

"This certainly changes things," she said, moving to read the rest. "So, the Minister, nearly all the aurors and the headmaster? Oh, dear me."

You pulled out the long strip of paper that was written in the Minister's handwriting. "This has all the names of people imprisoned or dead that were in fact innocent of the crimes laid against them, I know, I already double checked. Some died due to the dementors kiss. Others were killed with the killing curse BY an auror. The reports are in that stack of paper."

She sighed and looked to you. "Did you give Sebastian your wand to escape Azkaban? And then help him obtain these from the Ministry?"

You hesitated, but nodded. "I did professor."

"Well, just like a Gryffindor to do something they believe is foolish." She chuckled, though it didn't last long. "I'm assuming Mr. Sallow and Mr. Gaunt aren't far away?"

"No, but with the Ministry hunting us-"

She shook her head. "I don't want you coming to Hogwarts for the time being. Best keep this quiet until we can get a better understanding of the situation. Sneak back out of the castle and send me a letter of where you're staying. I'll meet you there with a few trusted allies. Maybe we can sort this out once and for all."

"I hope you won't take offense if I don't give you our location directly. We'll meet in Feldcroft in two days. Solomon's house would probably still have something of value in it."

She nodded and patted your shoulder. "I suspect this isn't going to end well, but do try to keep yourselves safe."

She moved out of the room, so you stowed the papers back into your bag, before shifting into your animagus form.

Deek kindly opened the door for you. Giving him a grateful nod as you passed, you headed down the corridor.

There were so many cats in Hogwarts, that you were practically invisible.

At least until you made it outside, and pain exploded in your side as you sailed through the air and landed on the ground roughly.

"I've been around Hogwarts enough, but I've never seen a cat like you before." You looked back at Draken, who raised his wand. "Cruico!"

Unimaginable pain exploded throughout your body. Even when Sebastian used the curse on you, it didn't hurt this bad.

"Hold on!" Sebastian's voice said, though it sounded like he was underwater.

Barely opening your eyes, you saw Sebastian's silver fox form and Ominis's black leopard form attacking Draken.

Your vision blurred, before focusing again.

Sebastian dangled from Draken's wand arm, the wand now snapped in two, hanging on only by the core as Ominis had his thigh on the opposite side.

This time when things blurred they didn't clear and darkness began to close in on the corners.

Once they managed to get him to the ground and he didn't move to get up, they came over to you, before Sebastian scooped your body up with his teeth.

"Careful!" Ominis hissed when you let out a small involuntary painful meow. "Hold on until the tree line, okay? Don't shift."

"How dare you attack innocent animals!" Poppy's voice snapped, before you heard her racing after your group.

Sebastian set you down once they thought they were deep enough into the forest.

You were barely holding onto consciousness and as if sensing they were waiting, you fell asleep and shifted back.

Sebastian was the first to revert back, his hands checking to see if you were still breathing as Ominis's leopard form rounded on Poppy.

"Sebastian? What are you doing here? Where's the cat? Are they okay?"

She jumped when Ominis shifted. "That was her animagus form. That jerk cast the torture curse on her after kicking her twenty feet."

Sebastian looked back. "I think she has a broken rib. We can't heal her until she wakes up."

Poppy startled when the crow swooped down and turned into Felix.

"The aurors are on alert after you attacked Draken," he said peeking around Sebastian to see your unconscious form. "What happened?"

"Draken crucio-ed her," Sebastian hissed, glaring back at the castle. "So, we attacked him."

Ominis shook his head. "It was more on instinct. I heard the spell, but Sebastian was off before that, probably when he kicked her."

"What's going on?" Poppy asked, staring between them.

"We can't really explain right now," Ominis said, looking back towards the castle. "We need to go before we're seen."

Felix nodded. "Yes, especially now that they have kill on sight orders for all of us." Everyone stiffened and looked to him. "I over heard it as I followed her over the grounds."

"Wait, what's going on?" Poppy asked, but the answer never came because Felix apperated them away.

"Did you find those animals?" One of the aurors asked, moving into the clearing with their wand out. 

"No, sir. The must have ran too far into the forest."

......

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[tenney-shoes]

I mean, I see where you're coming from and it has been a considerable amount of time since I've watched this season but I think I would have to respectfully disagree, at least in this instance.

Now don't get me wrong, I love angst, and I wanted more of that concerning both their time as slaves and the bits I've managed to piece together of finan's backstory via the fandom. But this line, this line rings in my memory because it gave me that angst. It hit me like a freight train when I watched this.

Because if it's not canon it's at least fanon that Uhtred promised Finan he would never have to row again in his life, and I believe that can be backed up in the show. As far as I remember, this is one of the only times Finan picks up an oar though they are seen around other boats with people rowing. Finan only picks up an oar when it's a matter of them being caught and killed if he doesn't.

And he is a man that understands that concept probably better than literally anyone around him. He pulled an oar for years and watched and learned the lesson down to his bones that when you stop rowing, you die. If you keep rowing, you live.

So in this moment, when he has not been ordered to take up an oar, he does anyway, because not doing it could mean the difference between the life or death of him and his men.

He isn't just throwing this line out. It's not a throw away line. It's not for comedy. It's not for levity. It's not casual. It is the most concise way to get his point across that if they want to live, they had better row like their lives depend on it and pull like a damn slave.

:/ man.