#( I mean he does need water so its less bully than usual )

[nottadog]

'Must keep fish hydrated!' Dumps bucket of water.

"GAH!"

"I'm hydrated 'nuff already!"

#little wolf boy: pup #forest spirits: ask #nonnie #( A yes the classic water bucket ) #( I mean he does need water so its less bully than usual )

[blushingquincy]

The Complete Guide to Falling for the Freak

by: blushingquincy

Allison Campbell has it all: a big house, good grades, and popularity—but underneath all of that, behind the perfect girl next door facade, is truly where it gets interesting. When she gets stuck tutoring the notorious Freak of Hawkins High, Eddie Munson, her life takes unexpected turns as she battles her step dad, her awful friends and, most importantly, falling in love for the first time.

⚠️WARNING: smut, cussing, bullying, domestic violence, abuse, drug use, underage drinking. I’ll add more warnings as I update

This is my first fic! I’m fairly new to writing so please give your opinions! Not sure how many chapters this will be. I’m thinking 15-20 maybe more who knows ;) Without further ado let’s get into it.

Chapter 1: He’s just the worst.

November 17, 1986

Mornings are a mundane ordeal in the Campbell household, always the same. Brenda Campbell, the obedient little housewife she is, is always in the kitchen by the time Allison comes downstairs. Her step-father, Dan—Dan The Dictator, she likes to call him—sits at his usual spot at the dining room table, reading a newspaper and making snide comments about how the food smells, even though he's going to scarf it all down anyway.

Pig, Allison thinks. She slips into her seat silently, munching on a dry piece of toast as fast as she can without earning the wrath of her step-father.

She fails.

"Slow down, Ali, the food isn't going anywhere," he says. "People are gonna mistake you for a pig if you keep that up." He oinks, then chuckles to himself like this is the funniest joke he's ever heard.

Allison bites down both the toast and the sarcastic remark on the tip of her tongue. She looks back at him as she wipes crumbs from the side of her mouth, eyes flickering down to look at his—no, her actual dad's tie.

I hope you get hit by a bus, she thinks, and she really means it. "Sorry," she says instead. "Guess I'm just excited to get to school."

That was a goddamn lie.

High school is a similarly mundane ordeal. She falls into her usual routine, sitting with the cheer squad and feigning interest while they talk about things she really couldn't give less of a damn about. No, Heather, she does not want to hear about parties or Madonna or guess who bumped uglies with Steve Harrington at Skull Rock!

She almost gags at the thought. God, she would rather choke herself with a hot branding iron than hear about former King Steve Harrington's sex life— but she knew how important image was to her mother and Dan. Not that she gave a shit about pleasing Dan, he could go choke for all she cared. But it was important to her mother too, and unfortunately, Allison did give a damn about pleasing her.

The second she makes her way to the classroom with its painfully harsh fluorescent lights, Mrs. O' Donnell asks if she can speak to her after class.

Allison frowns. "Am I …?" she trails off, eyebrows furrowed, and Miss O' Donnel seems to understand the unspoken word without her having to actually say it.

"Oh, don't worry," she says. "You aren't in trouble. I just need to talk to you."

Still, anxiety pools in Allison's stomach through the entire class. The bell rings, and she looks back down at her notebook, completely blank except for the topic written across the top in big letters. Damn. She'd have to ask someone if she could borrow their notes later.

That was the least of her concerns, though. Her main concern was figuring out what Miss O' Donnel wanted from her. She made her way to the front desk, clearing her throat to make her presence known.

The woman peered up at her through thin-rimmed glasses. "Ah, yes. Allison, I'm looking for a tutor for Eddie Munson and I was wondering if you'd be interested."

The metaphorical record in Allison's brain scratches to a stop. She opens her mouth, closes it, and opens it again, gapping like a fashing out of water. "I'm sorry, what?" she eventually settles on.

Eddie 'The Freak' Munson, the resident drug dealer of Hawkins High. He definitely has a … reputation, to say the least. He was the leader of the Hellfire Club. Allison is pretty sure that it's just a bunch of nerds playing a tabletop fantasy game, but everyone else seems convinced that it's a bunch of satanists sacrificing virgins.

Either way, she doesn't really want to do it. Nonetheless, being the ass-kissing people pleaser she is, Allison says yes.

Mrs. O' Donnel smiles at her. "Thank you, Allison, I knew I could count on you." She hands her the paper with his address and contact information. Allison thanks her absentmindedly, them goes about the rest of her morning classes in a bit of a daze.

She just agreed to tutor Eddie Munson. Eddie fucking Munson.

Finally, it's lunch. She takes her tray with a weird meat mush—seriously, what is that stuff—and sits down at the table. This group is a little different than the ones she ate breakfast with. In addition to the snobby girls, there was the basketball team. She hates them and their weird suburban hair and the way they mock people. As she sits there, listening to Andy drag on about the new truck his daddy bought him, her attention is turned away by something more interesting.

Eddie Munson, who had been sitting with his Hellfire Club, is now on the table shouting about conforming and useless highschool cliques. Allison resists the urge to bury her face in her hands. God, he is totally embarrassing. He's absolutely right, but still. Embarrassing.

Jason Carver stands up. "You want something, freak?" he squares his shoulders as though he was doing something important, defending the basketball team's honor or whatever. He's embarrassing too.

Eddie responds by sticking his tongue out and making faux devil horns with his fingers. Allison hides a smile by shoving a forkful of food into her mouth.

Jason abruptly sits down “God I hate that freak," he scoffs. "Don’t you guys just hate him?”

The group nods and agrees— except Allison, who is too focused on staring at Eddie: his long curly hair, his beautiful brown eyes and the way his mouth forms a flirtatious smirk when she catches his eye.

“Allison!” Jason yells out. She quickly jolted back to reality. “I said don’t you just hate him?”

She gives a quick glance back at Eddie. "Yeah," she says. "Yeah, he's just the worst."

Well this is going to be sooo much fun

#eddie munson #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x original character #eddie munson smut #slow burn

[seijorhi]

Through the cold, I'll find my way back to you

Me attempting a multi-part fic?? More likely than you think! I wrote this fic because this blog started with Hawks and Dabi and kinda got a bit of traction with soulmate au’s so to me it made sense to post it for my first anniversary. I hope you guys like it! 💕

Touya Todoroki (Dabi) x female reader, Keigo Takami (Hawks) x female reader

TW canonical character ‘death’, a little angst and maybe a slight hint of dub-con (if you squint your eyes a little)

Part I, II

You’re eleven years old when your parents take you by the hand, sit you down on the couch and tell you that your soulmate is dead.

It doesn’t make sense. There’s a hollow ache inside of your chest like something important is gone but you were with Touya only yesterday. You had the rest of your lives together, you were gonna leave with him, start something better…

You feel empty and you can’t understand it. He can’t be dead, that’s not how it works. You find your soulmate and you get to ride off into the sunset. You get to be happy, everyone knows that.

But it doesn’t sink in until you’re kicking and screaming by his grave and Endeavor won’t so much as meet your eye and your parents are pulling you back because there’s no body.

There’s nothing left of Touya Todoroki.

And there’s nothing left of you without him.

—

They call it the bloom. A simple touch, the first from your soulmate’s hand, and the mark appears on your skin like drops of ink spilled into water. You’ve always thought it beautiful, the delicate black pattern imprinted on your wrist.

You can still remember the heat you’d felt when it happened. Not the burning kind you knew him capable of, but like the warmth of a fire seeping through you. And you remember the way those bright, blue eyes had widened as you’d tripped and fell, taking him with you. His mark was over his heart; Touya always was stupidly smug about that.

You were just kids. Angry and scared and lost, but you had Touya and Touya had you.

(Not that that counted for anything in the end. He still died alone.)

They say it’s rare to find your soulmate before adulthood, but you’d been one of the lucky ones.

Lucky.

The word tastes bitter on your tongue now. It’s not that you disagree exactly – even now, years after his death you’re glad that you had time with him. You would’ve been grateful for a minute, for a mere glance at his face. Two and a half years with your soulmate was a gift, but having him, losing him so young only meant that you had more years of your life to struggle on without him.

And sometimes you catch yourself staring at your mark, lost in thought. Touya was the one with all the plans, you were always just the tag along, happy to go anywhere so long as he was the one leading you. You wonder what he’d think if he could see you now. Not the Hero you’d let yourselves imagine, though you suppose you both knew deep down that was nothing more than a pipe dream for someone like you.

Gazing around your cramped, messy apartment, debating exactly how badly you need this shitty, barely-enough-to-scrape-by job, you can’t imagine he’d be impressed.

God knows your parents are disappointed, but that’s nothing new. The Quirkless daughter of two mid rank heroes – well, the only thing you ever had going for you was being Enji Todoroki’s future daughter in law, and everybody knows how that one ended.

But part of you likes to think that maybe Touya wouldn’t judge you too harshly for it. You’re doing the best you can. You’re surviving, all on your own, that has to count for something, doesn’t it?

There’s a text message awaiting you when you roll over and grab your phone.

Happy Birthday x

Natsuo never forgets. The rest of the Todoroki’s – you ceased to matter to them the day they buried an empty casket for their son. Natsuo’s the only one who bothers to check in on you, make sure that you’re keeping your head above the water. It’s usually just a message here and there, and he calls you on Touya’s birthday. And on the anniversary of his death.

It’s painful for him, but you suppose you’re the only tangible connection he has left of his brother.

You stare at the message for a moment longer, a strange feeling tugging at your heart. Typing out a quick reply, you set your phone down and fall back onto your bed, staring up at the ceiling with a sigh.

Today of all days, you’d honestly rather just roll over and let the hours pass you by, but your boss isn’t that forgiving and as much as you hate to admit it, you need this job.

The hotel’s already abuzz by the time you clock in, your manager’s jaw tight, a frown pinching at his face. As much as you don’t like him, you can’t exactly blame him for the bad mood – in less than three hours, the ballroom will be filled with a media circus and a plethora of pro heroes. Some big promotional event before the hero rankings are announced; you honestly don’t care.

It just means that everybody’s on edge, you’re gonna spend all day stuck in heels, smiling blandly while you serve people who won’t so much as look twice at you.

And then there’s the real reason you’re dreading today. 6’4”, blue eyed, broad shouldered, currently burning holes into you from across the ballroom while you carry around a platter of canapés. The last time you’d seen Enji Todoroki in person was two weeks after the funeral, and he’d ignored you entirely.

That was years ago; you weren’t even in your teens. Half of you had hoped that in his infinite arrogance and the complete lack of care he’d shown since his son’s death he would’ve forgotten about you entirely.

From the way he’s spent the last twenty minutes staring at you while bulldozing past reporters, though, you’re not feeling all that confident.

And for the life of you, you can’t figure out why your presence seems to be disturbing him so much, considering you’re really only there to serve and then fade into the background. It’s not like you’re chasing after him, demanding an autograph much less any kind of acknowledgement – you’re not exactly thrilled to be here either. Things work just fine with the two of you pretending the other doesn’t exist.

Does he think you’ve planned this? Some big ‘fuck you’ to try and mess with what you’re sure will be an announcement of his retainership of the number one position? Even while Touya was still alive, his father didn’t have a place in your life – he was off training his youngest, you barely saw him and you were glad for it.

While he might have hated him, some part of Touya still idolised him, craved his approval, but Enji had never been anything to you but a selfish, unfeeling monster. A bully.

But now he’s staring at you, slack jawed and wide eyed like he’s seen a ghost and it’s harder than you thought it would be to keep that smile plastered across your face knowing he’s watching your every move.

Your cheeks feels hot, and it only gets worse when you realise that Endeavor’s less than subtle behaviour is slowly but surely drawing attention from others in the room. A few curious reporters have shot you odd looks, heads cocked for a moment before dismissing you as just another waitress, hardly headline worthy.

The other heroes are less quick to brush you off. Mirko, current number five, elegantly clasping her glass of champagne in a gloved hand keeps shooting furtive glances between you and Enji, Gang Orca’s beady eyes following you across the floor, a flicker of what you’re fairly sure is concern maring his face.

It’s mortifying. Your smile is stretched and painful, your throat tight and you feel utterly exposed, but there’s nothing you can do. The flame hero doesn’t seem to care about the attention he’s drawing, or that with every passing minute it gets harder and harder for you to maintain that professional, customer service demeanour you need for this job.

And you’re beyond caring if he’s embarrassed to find his firstborn’s soulmate has sunk so low in his absence, you just want him to stop staring so you can finish your shift in peace. But it seems like the flame hero has other plans, because you’re just beginning to seriously weigh up your chances of keeping this job if you just up and walk off right here and now when Enji’s limited patience finally reaches its threshold.

He doesn’t bother offering excuses towards the poor reporter trying to pry an interview out of him, he just abruptly sets his drink down and starts stalking towards you. Rationally, you realise that with all these people here, he can’t make too much of a scene.

It’s just that even the thought of having to talk with him, to look into those blue eyes that are so painfully familiar yet wrong–

You can’t do it.

Not today.

And so you spin on your heel, stomach lurching. The silver tray in your hands stacked high with champagne teeters and falls, crystal glass shattering on the marble floors drawing gasps from the crowd. Endeavor calls out your name but you block him out, desperately weaving your way through the stunned mass of people.

Most of them give you a wide berth, likely due to the oversized hero barrelling after you. He calls your name again, louder this time. It’s not a scream, or a yell – it almost sounds pleading, though you can’t possibly imagine why. Endeavor doesn’t do pleading.

Your cheeks are burning; there’s too many people staring and hot tears begin to prickle at your eyes. A flash of red blurs past your field of vision and you start, a sharp squeak slipping out as a figure lands before you, blocking your exit.

Handsome with bushy eyebrows, dirty blonde hair messily brushed back and golden eyes gleaming; the hero in front of you would be impossible to mistake, even if it weren’t for the sweeping blood red wings sprouting from his back. Hawks, the current number two pro-hero and the only man standing between you and your fumbling escape.

Your body’s slow to catch up with your mind though, and as you try to stop, backpedal and side-step him at once your foot catches on your ankle. It’s instinctive, the way your arms fly up, wildly trying to catch yourself before you fall on your ass.

Just like you suppose it’s instinctive for him to rush forward to do the same.

It happens in a split second, your fingers brushing the skin of his neck just above the collar of his shirt, his hand grasping at your waist to steady you. Beneath his gloved hand a familiar burst of heat warms your skin.

Time slows to a crawl. The ballroom, all the gathered heroes and the press, your co-workers, they all fade into the background as your eyes dart to your fingertips, resting gently on the side of Hawks’ throat. There, a soft, inky black mark begins to unfurl spreading up to his jaw, disappearing below the collar of his turtleneck.

Over the quiet hum of the classical music playing in the background, you hear his breath catch.

He has you dipped, the two of you frozen as if in a dance and for a moment you dare to meet those piercing golden eyes. There’s a clicking sound, a camera shutter you distantly register, but while it makes your heart jump, Hawks pays it no mind.

He stares at you with impossibly wide eyes; open, vulnerable and raw.

And then he blinks, and that glimpse is gone, his grip tightening as he slowly sets you right. He doesn’t let you go, however.

“Hawks,” Enji’s tone is low and gruff, a warning this time.

Tension, thick and crackling with electricity hangs in the air between the three of you, amplified by the crowd of onlookers. All those journalists, chomping at the bit with the realisation of a juicy story playing out right in front of their eyes. Your name’s called out again, not by Endeavor, but by the reporter he’d cut off before – eyeing you now with an eager leer that has you recoiling back into Hawks’ embrace.

It’s enough to jerk the winged hero into action. His mouth finds your ear, his thumb sweeping soothingly along your side as he speaks low enough for only you to hear.

“You wanna leave, baby bird?”

You don’t remember nodding, but you must have, because in the space of a single heartbeat Hawks has you hoisted up in his arms, those powerful wings spreading wide – and you’re flying.

—

“I don’t think I have a job anymore,” you laugh drily, staring down at the city lights twinkling on the horizon.

Beside you, Hawks snorts in agreement, “Hell of a way to make an exit, though.”

He’s not wrong. You can only imagine what the tabloid headlines will say tomorrow ‘Pro Hero sweeps hotel waitress soulmate off her feet’ ‘Hawks mates for life; Endeavor jealous?’ Even if by some miracle your boss wasn’t intent on firing you on the spot, you’re not sure you can even bear to show your face there again.

It’ll be a pain though, trying to find a new job while your face is plastered across every less than reputable news outlet.

Perched atop the rooftop of Hawks’ hotel, halfway across the city, the wind ruffling gently through your hair, everything feels… surreal almost. It’s your birthday, and instead of crashing through the door of your apartment, exhausted and aching before falling face first onto your bed and not moving for the next few hours, you’re here. With the number two pro hero. Who, incidentally, is your second soulmate.

Having more than one soulmate, it’s not unheard of, just… rare.

And your hand’s entwined with his, his gloves long since discarded, his fleece lined jacket draped over your shoulders. Touya’s mark, long since blossomed across your inner wrist lies starkly between the two of you, unignorable.

“It was his son, wasn’t it?” he asks eventually, breaking the fragile silence as he toys with your fingers. When you nervously risk a glance up, Hawks doesn’t look angry or upset or even that jealous. Those golden eyes study your face with an odd kind of curiosity, but there’s no trace of resentment there. “Touya, the one who died. He was your soulmate.”

It’s not a question, but you find yourself nodding anyway. A part of you’s almost surprised he put it together so quickly, but you guess being a pro hero of that calibre requires a little more than just having a strong quirk.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, because what else can you say?

You can’t possibly imagine how he’s feeling right now, what thoughts are running through his head. You’d accepted a long time ago that while you’d love Touya Todoroki until your dying breath, he was gone; that chance of a fairytale happily ever after going with him. Another soulmate wasn’t something you’d ever considered, much less wasted time longing for.

And yet here you are, another mark inked across your skin and it feels wrong somehow, yet also completely right. Imagining being on the other foot; putting yourself in Hawks’ shoes – a pro hero soulmated to some insignificant, quirkless waitress, and not only that, but finding out she has another soulmate, somebody she loved before you, a ghost of a memory you’ll always be competing against… you honestly don’t know how you’d feel.

“Look at me,” he whispers, calloused fingers coaxing at your chin. Heart thrumming like a hummingbird's you comply, letting out another soft squeak as Hawks takes the hand still entwined with his and lifts it to his neck, right above his mark.

He smiles, nuzzling into the touch as your breath stutters. “You’re mine, aren’t you?” Again, you find yourself nodding without even really being conscious of it. It doesn’t seem to matter to Hawks though, whose smile widens at the sight of it. He leans in closer, his breath fanning across your face as molten pools of honey drink you in. You wonder if he can feel the way your pulse is racing under his touch, mixed emotions warring inside of you as he cups your cheek.

“And I’m yours. That’s all I care about, baby bird.”

He’s drawing you into a kiss before you can even comprehend the words, soft lips moving against yours. Gently at first, but that sweetness gives way to a burning urgency as he pulls you closer, holds you tighter.

Hawks kisses you like your lips hold salvation, and it’s frightening and thrilling and it feels like every nerve in your body is electrified when his teeth catch at your bottom lip and he moans your name.

There’s some part of you that realises that you’re moving too fast – soulmates or not he’s practically a stranger – but as you break for air, panting and breathless and Hawks looks at you with those burning, beautiful eyes; you’re helpless to resist.

“Keigo,” he tells you as he lays you down on his bed, crawling up between your thighs with a gleaming, hungry smirk that’s nothing less than predatory, “Call me Keigo.”

#yandere bnha #yandere hawks x reader #yandere dabi x reader #yandere keigo takami x reader #yandere touya todoroki x reader #tw character ‘death’ #tw dub con #soulmate au #I’m not even sorry #except I am #lmao last one I promise

[accio-jungkookie]

shine on anyway - spider-man x reader (ch. 3)

A/N: hello hello to everyone who sees this! this is chapter 3 in my fic! I know I've been gone for forever (!), but life happens. I had a lot of medical issues in the past year and a half, plus college and life, so its been rough. i'm recently rediscovering my love of writing, so bear with me as I get back into the groove of things! I have up to chapter 8 written already, so I'll be posting those as I go through and edit and revise them, so expect them all within the coming weeks! I hope you enjoy!

Summary: A kid from Milwaukee has to grow up far more quickly than she should while facing threats that men half her age would never dare go near. So, when she has to uproot after losing everything, does she lose herself too?

Word count: 3.8k

Warnings: Mentions of anxiety and depression, swearing, minor character death, blood and injuries, fighting, mentions of bullying, again I will add more if I think I missed any! :)

last - three - next

You woke up the next morning to the sound of shoes scuffing against the floor, meaning your grandparents were awake and getting ready for their days. They were retired, sure, but they were always out of the house trying to keep moving. Old age never limited them in the slightest. Besides, they weren’t old for being grandparents, since your mother had you young. They were only in their early 50’s.

“Age only catches up to you only if you let it” your grandmother once said, and it was sweet. Your grandparents lived up to it, too, always moving about. So, you got up and went up the stairs to the kitchen as you rubbed your eyes sleepily.

“Morning, Bug. How’d you sleep, sweetie?” Your grandma asked, a smile on her kind face, softened with time. She walked over to where you stood against the counter and kissed your cheek, patting it afterwards as she moved to get water.

“Pretty good. Slept like a baby, I think.” You mumbled with a smile, walking over to your grandpa. “Morning, Papa. How’d you sleep?” You asked him with a hug, smiling when he stopped what he was doing to hug you back.

“Really good, Buggie. Thank you.” He mumbled back, a smile on his face as you both separated and kept getting ready for the day ahead.

“So where are you guys going today? Nana?” You asked as you grabbed a cup to get water for yourself. You turned to face them as they leisurely moved around the kitchen to get ready. You smiled at how calm it was. How normal this was now. It had been four years since your mom had passed, and it was finally starting to not hurt so badly when you woke up in the mornings.

“To an antique mall in northern Illinois. Your Papa is very excited for this one.” Your grandma snickered as you laughed, knowing he always hated being forced to drive your grandma for hours to a place he barely enjoyed. Of course, he likes spending time with your Nana, but there were other things to do, too. And they usually required less driving.

“So excited.” Your Papa deadpanned before laughing afterwards.

“What about you, Bug? Any plans? A hot date?” Your grandma jokes, and you laughed when your grandpa turned his head to look at you with wide eyes.

“A hot what now?” He said, making you laugh at the face he was making before you brushed his concerns away.

“Nothing, Papa. I’m staying home today to finish my biology homework. No hot dates for me. Plus, it’s too cold out. Winter here sucks.” You joked with a smile. You hugged your grandma again, just holding her for a minute for the comfort before you let her go again.

“Love you guys, drive safely ok?” You asked as they prepared to leave for the day.

“Always. Make sure you stay safe, okay? Don’t forget to wear your glasses. And you know where the gun is if you need it.” Your grandpa said as you laughed, shooing them out the door and on to their day.

“I won’t need it. Goodbye, love you guys!” You called out as they repeated the gesture before you closed and locked the door.

It had already been a long day, and it was only 1 p.m. You were looking long and hard at this Spider-Man, trying to figure out who – or what - he was. You were watching the pattern for the times he was “patrolling”, you guessed you would call it. He seemed to only patrol in the afternoon and evening, not really at night or, suspiciously, during school hours. Sure, he could be a kid, but you have to keep your mind open. Maybe he’s a grown ass man with a job that has weird hours. Who the hell knows, in all honesty? This was you going off a whim, an instinct if you will. Who knows what any of this would yield in the long run anyway?

You assumed he was a kid, however, after you heard a small clip of a video with his voice in it. It was very brief, making you second guess yourself, but it was almost undoubtably a kid, probably around the same age as you. You took note of his web shooters, as you’ve started to call them because, well, they shoot webs. It seemed like the actual shooters were simple enough to make. If you pressurize whatever web fluid he was using, then put it in a tube and use a button to push it out, it would work almost like a can of silly string. The curious part to you, however, was the actual web fluid. According to all the scientific research you could find, it was nearly impossible to create artificial spider webs made of silk, or with the tensile strength of silk. The only thing you could find was intergenic spider-sheep from China who could produce spider silk in their milk that could be harvested (Which, like, what? Why?). So, how? You played with a different idea, since really silk is mostly liquid with some proteins in it that strengthened the more weight was put on it, but still. You were struggling to figure it out, and it didn’t help that you didn’t have a science lab to play in.

You gave up after a bit and moved onto the outfit he wore. Half gloves, sure, with the shooters. A sweater, facemask with dark goggles (smart boy, trying to filter out extra stimuli), and some sweats with socks and slip on shoes. Yeah, ok great. Easy enough, you thought. However, you didn’t want to steal his look. So, you thought of going the total opposite. He was all full of colors, therefore you would be devoid of any. You grabbed a pair of black leggings, deciding they would rip too easily, and jeans would be constrictive. You hummed a bit and decided hey, leather never hurt anyone. So, you pulled out the only pair of leather leggings you own and put them on for the first time. You nodded, walking back over to your clothes and finding a black tank top and sweater. You found black gloves and brought them into your room before snipping the fingers off. You slid them on and braided the top of your head into two partial braids, tying them off into ponytails to keep it out of your face. You found an old black beanie and decided that it, also, would be cut up. You pulled it entirely over your face and used chalk to mark where the top and bottom would be, along with where your eyes would go. You cut out said pieces and hemmed it, smiling at your handy work before sliding the strip of fabric over your eyes and nose. You grabbed a pair of black socks and your black converse with a smile, scrunching you nose.

“Okay, suit done.” You said with a small, nervous smile, checking the time and seeing it was almost five in the afternoon. You put everything away before heading up to the living room, sitting on the couch with your dogs and turning on the TV so the news would fill up the background noise. While you were passively watching the news however, something caught your eye and caused your anxiety to rocket through the roof. It was a story, and video (!!!) of you hurdling over a car without even looking up to see it. Your eyes widened, making sure your face was too fuzzy to see before you allowed yourself to calm down slightly. You looked outside, biting your lip. The sun would set soon, and you could go outside and try out these new abilities of yours. And maybe, at the same time, draw the news away from you to, well, also you, but in a costume this time. You sat on the couch for a bit more, distracting yourself by cuddling your dogs, before getting up with a groan. You fed your dogs, then went and changed into your new, all black ensemble. You texted your grandparents that you were hanging out with Ky at the mall, feeling guilty about the lie but knowing they wouldn’t understand, before slipping your phone into your pocket, grabbing your house key, and slipping out of the house.

It wasn’t until almost midnight when you got home, hoping you had done a sufficient job in pulling attention for the media to cover the next day in the local news. You had barely thought the plan through, in all honesty, but you hoped it worked. You would much rather have a video of you in a costume, unidentifiable, going around climbing walls rather than an image of you hurdling a car with ease. You really, truly hoped you had done well enough, sticking to downtown Milwaukee where you thought most street cameras would be. You slipped in and quickly went to your room, changing into regular clothing before going up to your grandparents’ room, finding them both asleep, before heading to the kitchen. You wrote on the whiteboard on the wall that you were home safe before heading to your room to attempt to get some sleep.

You had gone out every night since then for the last week, climbing walls and pushing your fear of heights as you jumped from building to building. You found a few small thugs, relying on your new 6th sense to help you fight them and keep yourself safe. You did still, however, get a knife to the thigh. As well as your new gifts helped, you were still massively undertrained in martial arts, so you were vulnerable in fights. You had panicked, unsure of what to do, so you had finished up with them as quick as possible and hurried home. You googled how to give yourself stitches, then did so and fell asleep. When you woke up the next morning, the wound was nearly healed, making you stare in wonder at the small pink line that lined your leg now.

You wrote fast healing (cellular life shorter/faster reproduction) underneath your name in your notebook. You had also noticed how much faster your metabolism had gotten when you almost passed out one time while swinging due to lack of nutrients or water, you weren’t quite sure yet, but it was the only working theory at the moment.

However, that was two days ago now. You were just now starting to hear news stories and see articles about yourself running around downtown at night. You nodded with a smile the first time you had seen it, happy that no one was connecting anything back to you, or to the original video that had aired a while ago. You hadn’t been given a name by the public yet, but you were patiently waiting. It felt almost like a silent initiation to the superhero world to have the public give you a name, like Iron Man or Spider-Man. However, only one of those names you looked on positively, and it wasn’t the billionaire.

“(Y/N)! Have you seen this yet?!” You heard Ky yell as she ran up to you between classes. You winced as you heard her voice, still amplified by your new extra sensitive senses, before you both stopped and stepped to the side of the hall as she showed you a video of you jumping from building to building. You let out a few nervous chuckles, your anxiety through the roof. You were horrible at lying to begin with, but especially to your best friend. It made you clutch onto your backpack straps a little tighter as you waited anxiously for her to continue her, what you assumed, small rant.

“Like, what the hell?! Milwaukee has its own Spider-Man now!” She squealed. You pretended to squint at the video, pretending to investigate it, before making a statement.

“They could be a girl. Look at their build - there.” You said as you started to walk towards your next class together – choir. She nodded in agreement, noticing the build of the person did seem to be on the smaller, more feminine side.“Even better! There are so few female superheroes, it would be amazing to see another girl other than Black Widow! I mean, don’t get me wrong, she is iconic. But, like, she’s the only one. Even in those clips from the Battle of New York a few years ago – I mean, she is literally the only female Avenger.” Ky ranted quickly, trying to get all of her opinions out into the air before you reached your class.

“I mean, yeah. Hopefully. I don’t really like the Avengers, but Black Widow is probably my favorite one.” You said with a small smile, your heart warming. As much as you had only started going out in public to distract from the original video of you that had hit the news, you were almost proud of yourself now. What you felt you had started out of an act of cowardice, hiding your identity, was reaching other girls, if not worldwide then at the very least locally. Being a woman, much less a girl, in Milwaukee was usually a terrifying thing. Women go missing and are assaulted at a higher rate than most cities around it. If you could somehow inspire women to stand up for themselves, learn to protect themselves… It would mean the world to you.

You smiled as you walked with Ky into the choir room, greeting your teacher as you sat down. Ky ranted on for a while more about how cool it was that Milwaukee got its own hero, let alone a female one, and you couldn’t help but think that this might be more of a blessing than a freaky curse. It made you feel almost comfortable with everything. Almost.

Throughout the next few weeks, a few things began to happen.

First, you manage to figure out the secret to how Spider-Man makes his webs. It was difficult to figure out, but you got there eventually. It was a specific combination of chemicals that was compressed into the shooters on his wrists. After doing a lot of math and chemistry, and a lot of failed attempts, you had finally cracked the recipe. The honest hardest part of everything was getting your hands on the physical chemicals you needed because your school kept them under strict lock and key, and it took some convincing for your grandparents to let you order the chemicals online with the money you had saved up doing odd jobs for them and neighbors. This was all amazing, and the progress you had made within a few weeks was astonishing, but that wasn’t what made you happiest.

The public had finally given you a name.

“The Night Crawler, not to be mistaken for New York’s Spider-Man, is Milwaukee’s own crime-fighting superhero. Dressed in all black and keeping to the shadows, she remains mysterious to the population. While there have been many celebrations city-wide around her sudden appearance, one question remains – who is she, and how do we repay her?” Ky read out quickly with a smile as you both settled into your seats for AP Psychology, kicking your bag under your desk as you turned to face her.

“Isn’t that so cool, (Y/N)? We have our own hero. Maybe she can help bring down crime rates.” Ky mumbled with a giddy excitement. You just nodded along until class started, not able to focus your attention very well this morning. You were happy that you were indirectly making your best friend happy, but you just had trouble focusing today. Every small lull in conversation had your head nodding, and every small squeak of a pencil or squeal of a chair had you wincing.

To be fair to your teacher, it was a very interesting class. Your teacher had used the Night Crawler as an example for one of the terms, and it had gotten everyone to be so much more involved in class as they discussed the morality of superheroes, and what morality was in the first place. It seemed a bit more philosophical to you, but none the less, it wasn’t a bad class to start out the day.

The months turned at a snail’s pace, the snow melting and bringing in the wet warmth of spring. Freshman year of high school slowly draws to a close, bringing you to the brink of exhaustion many times. You were slowly starting to regain your energy, thanks to the constant cold leaving was your theory based off the behaviors of spiders, but you couldn’t test your theory until next winter now anyway.

By the time summer rolls around, you were on edge constantly. The news of the Sokovian accords had broken, and footage from the airport in Germany was leaked, showing the huge battle in the middle of the tarmac. It was terrifying to watch, unable to decide yourself what you thought was right. As much as you wanted to say you would follow the law, you weren’t sure. Who’s to say that the Avengers, in the case that they all signed the agreement, wouldn’t just become a world-wide militia? They would be at the command of multiple countries with no clear leader.

Not to mention crime was picking up in Milwaukee, and while you seemed to be getting better at this whole crime-fighting thing, it was still too much for you to handle on your own. You tried your hardest, but that didn’t make the statistics any easier to read. Even then, the more attention you got, the more nervous you became in terms of your identity. People were becoming more curious, trying to figure out who was trying, and failing in the eyes of the public, to protect their city. When they analyzed your schedule, if they did so, not much could be deduced since it could just mean you don’t work at night, but that didn’t calm your nerves in any way. You were careful to never show your face and to take complicated routes back home so that it was hard to trace you. You were trying to be smart about this, but still, it was taking a toll on you.

Internally though, you were still conflicted. You hated “superheroes” in the traditional sense, especially since your mom, well… Since she passed in New York. The Avengers could have helped her, had they tried hard enough, and you hated that. You hated that she died alone and scared and hoping that the Avengers would save her, and yet no one did. You hated it. On the other hand, you wanted to be there to help the people who end up in those situations. You wanted to help out the little guys who couldn’t help themselves. That is what kept you going, day in and day out. If the Avengers wouldn’t help, then you would. As much as you tried to tell yourself it was ok, you were ok, it was still hard knowing there were people who couldn’t be helped.

Especially when it came to days like today. Your anxiety had been kicking all day, and you had been on the verge of crying for the last few hours. It was nearing the end of June, so the weather was decent for being almost midnight. You just wanted to be done and sleep. So, despite how much you still wanted to help, you called it quits for the night, deciding to turn and start swinging back home when a bullet grazed your calf, causing you to yelp and lose your rhythm swinging. You almost smacked right into the ground before you caught yourself. You clung to the side of the building you were currently on, looking down to see where you had been shot at. You winced, seeing where the skin had torn and the bruising that was starting already around it. You were about to reach down to assess the wound before you felt your senses pick up again, your eyes snapping up as you launched yourself towards another building across the street as hard as your leg would allow. You watched behind you as the bullet hit the building where your torso had just been, eyes wide in mild shock as you followed where the bullet must have come from before you practically screamed in shock and frustration.

“Jesus Christ-“ You mumbled angrily, climbing up the building quickly when you sensed another bullet. You quickly jumped out of the way, catching yourself as you launched a web at the roof, before you angled your body to face the man who was shooting at you. You launched a web from your free hand not holding you to the roof, snatching the handgun from him before webbing it to the building next to you, out of reach. You were about to taunt him, turning to look back down at the man, before you saw him pull another gun out of the waistband of his pants.

“What the fuuuck dude.” You wheezed out, unsure as to why this grown ass man was targeting you, a child. Until you realized, no, to the public you weren’t a child. You were, well, Night Crawler. And if someone in the city thought you were getting too close to their issues... you wouldn’t doubt that they would try to take you out.

“Well okay then. What’re you hiding?” You wondered quietly before swinging over to him and kicking him square in the chest as you passed, trying to move quick enough so he couldn’t get a good aim at you. You landed on your feet, quickly webbing him up into a cocoon, then webbing his cocoon to a wall. You squinted at his face, trying to see if you could pick out his face at all as someone you knew, or someone from the news. It turns out that he’s a member of a big gang, from what you could recognize from his face. You smiled and backed away as you heard the police sirens in the distance.

“Have fun in prison, dude. Send me a letter, and don’t drop the soap, yeah?” You said as you backed away. His eyes widened as you spoke.

“You’re a fucking kid?” He asked, obviously shocked. You laughed at his shock before shrugging your shoulders.“Maybe. But either way, you shouldn’t shoot at people. It’s rude.” You quipped before launching yourself back into the air, enjoying the breeze as you took a long route home in the off chance that you were being followed or watched. When you landed by your door, you frowned at the wound on your leg. It didn’t seem bad, and you had gotten loads better at doing stitches in the last few months, but you knew it would still ache in the morning.

#spiderman x y/n #fanfic #fan fiction #spider-man #iron man #spiderman x reader #Peter Parker #Tony starl #pepper potts #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff #black widow #tom holland #rdj #mcu #marvel #fluff #angst #happy hogan #spiderman fanfiction

[bubblegumbeech]

Finding Home

Phic Phight Prompt by @hauntedozone

Sequel to Home with no Memories

He’d been alone on the road for a week now.

In all honesty he should be half dead, exhausted and starving and desperate to find something to eat or drink. But he wasn’t. Well, he was exhausted, just, more emotionally.

It would be easier, he thinks, if he knew who he really was.

His memories were still so fractured so damaged, he didn’t even really know what he was looking for. Just that he was following some vague idea, a concept, a feeling of family and comfort and home and everything a parent was supposed to provide.

So why was he walking away from them?

Easy, Danny thought, It’s because parents or not, those feelings of safety and comfort? Weren’t something they could provide. Even when they tried, even when all that effort was put forward to be those perfect, sitcom style parents, they couldn’t do the bare minimum and not lie to his face .

He wanted Jazz.

He didn’t even know who she was. Not really. But he wanted the feelings that came with the odd memory of her, the comfort, the warmth. The vague annoyance that he was so sure family members were supposed to feel towards each other instead of the full blown fear that held him in its grasp whenever Maddie- his mother - got near him.

In all honesty he wanted to know who he was. What he was. Daniel James Fenton. Missing for five years before being found, unconscious by his parents and brought to a hospital where they kept him for a month, planning their fake lives, their lies, and everything else.

That’s what he does remember. But who else was he?

Why didn’t he look any older? Where were the others? Why was he the only one found and why was it five years later?

But Danny didn’t have the answers. He might never have the answers. That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to go look for them. First, however, he needed a place to start.

It was novel, being alone. It was pretty freeing as well, no pressure to pretend to be the child that someone else had been missing, no fear of being discovered doing something wrong. No fear of discovering something and it being wrong.

Danny had gotten used to being a wanderer, following a gentle tug in his core that seemed to pull him further and further away. There was no knowing where he was going, and he didn’t exactly have fair for a bus, or food, or really anything at all. So he had to just keep walking.

It took him a week before the hunger hit, and it hit harder than he’d expected. There was something wrong about it, he couldn’t help but think, he’d never heard of hunger being this deep, of seeping into one’s chest. His stomach growled, and he felt a tug towards something. He followed.

The tug took him towards a rest stop with a small diner, open 24/7 and full to the brim with truckers and other poor souls either caught on the road late at night or spending their lives transient and traveling. Just like Danny was now. He wouldn’t mind it, honestly, if he didn’t have the bone deep feeling that he was supposed to be somewhere, and that it was wrong for him to be away.

He walked in, hoping he passed for old enough to be driving on his own, and sat down at a table in the corner. The hunger was so much, just so much and he hadn’t eaten in so long. He’d been convinced that whatever it was his parents had done to him, it had taken away his hunger. It seemed now, that hadn’t been the case.

Maybe he could order food and run? There were plenty of places to hide in the woods, and he’d be good for at least another week right? Unless he just couldn’t feel hunger until it was pressing, didn’t he read somewhere that humans can go a week without food? He was still human, right?

“Hey sweetheart, where’s your parents?” asked an older lady in a waitress uniform, her hair was tied back in a tight but messy bun, and her apron was covered in stains. She set down a glass of water, looking worried and Danny smiled, tried not to look as tired as he was.

“I just got my license,” he lied, “so this is kinda my first roadtrip.”

A flicker of understanding passed behind her eyes and she smiled, “got lost huh?”

Danny ducked his head, an attempt at feigning embarrassment. She just shook her head and handed him a menu, “let me know what you want okay? And don’t let any of these old losers bully you, they’re the rough and rowdy kind.”

Nodding his thanks, Danny opened the menu. It was full of foods he couldn’t fully remember, things he wanted to try, but his eyes landed first and foremost on the burger on the top right. Out of all of them, that one felt the most familiar and he tucked the Menu away.

He sipped on his water, trying not to gulp it down too quickly. He didn’t want anyone to think he was desperate, they might think he was a runaway. They might call his parents. He needed to make it through this without being too suspicious, just eat, and run. Easy. People did it everyday.

When the waitress came back and he placed his order she didn’t look twice at his half empty water, just filled it quickly with the water from her jug and promised his food would be out right away. He waited eagerly.

Eventually, in an attempt to ignore the hunger eating away at the very center of him, he started people watching. He was in a small booth in the corner, so it wasn’t difficult to look around, see all the different people living their lives in the exact same place Danny happened to be.

There were a few sitting alone, silently reading the newspaper or some book, but most were sitting in groups, talking loudly and sharing exploits. Danny had no way of knowing if these people were strangers or friends with each other but he ached none the less.

What would Sam be like, sitting here surrounded by rednecks? In the few fuzzy memories Danny had, she always looked so elegant, all black clothes, sharp eyeliner, expensive fabrics. He couldn’t picture her in a place like this. Then again, he could barely picture her at all. The only truly solid image he’d had of her was from the article.

The one that proclaimed her missing. Along with Tucker and Jazz and Danny himself. He fought back tears, there was no use in breaking down now. He had to find answers, somehow.

His stomach growled again.

After he ate of course. The waitress came back with a huge burger and a whole plate of fries he hadn’t ordered and set it down in front of him. Danny had looked up at her, ready to tell her the mistake, but she simply waved him off and explained it was on the house. He looked hungry after all.

And well, he was. He tucked into the burger, and then the fries, and by the time he’d finished it all along with his third glass of water, his stomach was full to bursting and he had to sit back and take a deep breath. But despite the meal, he was still hungry. He could feel it, the pull in his chest screaming out for something, but he couldn’t eat another bite. He’d tried.

He fought back tears. What was wrong with him now?

The waitress walked over once she noticed he was done, “are you alright? Was the burger no good?” she asked and Danny shook his head, trying not to let her see his face.

“It was fine. Better than any burger I can remember,” he forced a smile.

She frowned, not taken in at all, “Sweetheart, I know our food ain’t that good. Something wrong? You want me to call someone-?”

“No!” he shouted, a touch too fast and far too loud. “No, I … I have to do this on my own.”

The waitress shook her head, she was practically flooded with worry and concern and it tasted almost bitter on his tongue. Tasted. Danny frowned.

“I- Do you want to hear a joke?” he asked.

Startled the waitress set down her jug, “of course sugar, let’s hear your joke.”

It was clear she was humoring him, but Danny didn’t care. He needed something, and there was an inkling of a possibility, a thought that maybe this might work, and he was going to jump on it with everything he had.

“Where does the General keep his armies?” he asked, banking on his knowledge from reading popsicle puns when he was sneaking out back home. No, not home. Back where his parents were.

The waitress rolled her eyes, “I suppose in the barracks?” she smiled.

“Nope, in his sleevies. Do you think glass coffins will be a success?”

“I don’t-” she tried to say, caught off guard by the pun and trying to humor him with a laugh, but failing, obviously, in her confusion.

“Remains to be seen. Did you hear about the guy who lost his left arm?”

“Uh no I-”

“Ehh, his hand writing’s all right now-” his joke was interrupted when he heard her bark out a laugh, a genuine one and Danny’s chest hummed with the sound. He breathed it in, and felt something ease, just a little, in his chest.

“I’m glad you laughed, my usual clientele don’t usually get my jokes. It's hard to explain puns to kleptomaniacs. They always take things so literally.”

This one had her snorting behind her hand and looking at him completely anew, “kid you are something else you know that? This your attempt at getting a free meal?”

Danny smiled awkwardly, “is it working?”

She rolled her eyes, “keep trying charmer. I’ll go get your bill.”

Danny absorbed just a bit more of her laughter before she left, letting it settle under his skin, comforting and energetic. It wasn’t enough, not nearly, he realized, but it took away the edge and he found himself feeling mostly normal again. Well, as normal as someone who could apparently eat emotions was.

He was gone before she returned.

It was an unsettling feeling to be sure. He still wasn’t fully confident he still needed to eat, if the only thing that had taken away the painful emptiness in his chest was going to be emotions. What else was wrong with him? He didn’t age, or if he did it was slowly, he didn’t eat actual food, the cuts and scrapes he had gotten while walking through the trees to follow that tug, that pull in his chest that kept him going, all went away as quickly as they appeared. He was almost tempted to cut his hand deeper and time it as the skin stitched together.

Was that something his mother had done?

One thing he did know, he needed sleep. It was to biggest hurdle in his entire time traveling, almost a week away from home and he’d needed sleep more than anything else and it was almost grounding. It helped him feel human even as he laid awake, looking at the stars and somehow knowing the names of every constellation but not remembering why.

He wondered if Tucker was okay. If he’d complain about traveling like this or insist they took some gas guzzling car. Would he have counter arguments to Danny’s fractured morals, comment on how one little meal won’t hurt a restaurant but it could be life or death for him. That felt like something Tucker would say.

Danny kept walking.

He’d prepared after the first stop at the roadside diner. First, he’d shoplifted protein bars and trailmix,then he’d charmed the rest stop cashier into a roiling laugh after defending her from a particularly rambunctious drunk that had wandered in and made a mess of things. She’d thought it was hilarious to watch a grown man get his ass handed to him by a teenager, and Danny’s chest had practically purred with the satisfaction. As if that right there had been the first meal he’d had in months.

After that he felt lighter, like gravity wasn’t affecting him as much, and the pull on his chest got stronger, leading him away and into a certain uncertainty. He was excited now, pushing all the thoughts of experiments and inhumanity aside, there was an adventure to be had. And he was going to have it.

Looking at the stars helped too.

It was secondary of course, but whenever he felt frustrated, or tired, or on the edge of just stopping and giving up right then and there, he’d look up at the stars. Orion was there, watching over him, the big dipper and canis major, and every other constellation he could point out with ease. It gave him the energy he’d needed to go on, keep moving forward. To find the answers he so desperately needed.

One of the things he stole had been a watch. It was a large, ticking one that had caught his eye as he walked around the large store, trying not to seem to suspicious. It reminded him of something, the analogue clock he'd convinced Maddie and Jack to buy before he ran away perhaps? Or maybe, it was the ticking that was familiar. Either way it had been a comfort when he wrapped it around his wrist, holding it up occasionally to his ear just to listen. He let himself have it, this one thing that brought him comfort as he fled the only possible home he could remember.

It helped him sleep at night.

The first time Danny disappeared, it was because he was scared.

He was in the middle of the woods, decently far off the trail and mostly unconcerned with being found. Most people wouldn’t be out this far, this late, and they certainly wouldn’t be so far off the trail. Which was why, when he’d heard voices, hushed and excited, he went still.

Danny knew why he was here, the instinct he was following, homing beacon, whatever it was, it didn’t care where roads were, and it cared even less for forest paths. He wouldn’t get lost, and even if he was out here in the woods for sometime, he’d figured out exactly how to keep the hunger at bay. At least, for long enough.

The voices grew louder and Danny tried to think of what to do. Did they know he was out here? He hadn’t exactly been bothering to keep quiet, and if he could hear the crunch of leaves and foliage underneath the stranger’s boots as they walked nearer and nearer, then surely they had heard his own, far less careful steps.

Thinking, quickly and with no small amount of panic, Danny stayed still and calmed his breathing. If they knew he was in the area but he didn’t make a sound, it would take luck to find him, or some kind of tracking skill, shit. His eyes started looking around at the trees, picking out branches he might use to climb, but none of them looked like they’d hold his weight. Even if he himself felt lighter, it was unlikely a tree would agree with him.

He struggled to calm his breathing as the voices stopped, but the steps grew louder. What should he do? They were coming straight towards him? Why would they stop talking if they were trying, somehow, to sneak up on him?

His heart beat in his chest, an uncomfortably fast rhythm and Danny squeezed his eyes closed just as he heard someone break through the thick of trees in front of him.

“Brett there’s no one here,” a voice spoke, less than a foot away and full of gravel.

Danny opened his eyes.

There were two men in front of him, both holding weapons, one was a large pistol that had Danny’s heart almost stop once he caught sight of it, while the other was holding a large machete, likely used to make traveling through the wood like this easier.

“He’s hiding then,” said the stranger with the gun, “you saw the snag of blue fabric on the tree. He definitely went this way. Just, look in the bushes or something.”

The other guy, the first one to push past the trees and into the small space Danny was now standing, sharing with them, started swinging his weapon around and calling out in a sing song voice that had the hairs on the back of Danny’s neck rising.

“Come on out kiddo~.” he said, “we’re just worried about you. It isn’t safe getting lost alone in the woods at night. I mean, who knows what kind of scary people you could run into-”

Bret had slapped him on the back of the head, and ignoring his partner’s cry of outrage, said “you idiot. Do you even know how not to run your mouth?”

“Oh come on,” he’d said, carelessly waving his machete around, inches from where Danny was standing, back flush against the bark of a tree. Danny sucked in his breath to avoid being nicked. Even if they apparently couldn’t see him, the last thing he wanted was them getting a bit of blood on the blade and wondering where exactly it was from. “What’s he gonna do? Run? It’ll be easier to catch him then.”

Danny had to admit, that was certainly true. But he was eying a small trail between two of the trees nonetheless, maybe even if he made noise, if he was still invisible they wouldn’t be able to find him right?

The blade slid through his chest and into the tree.

He didn’t breath, didn’t risk the rise and fall movement of his chest, and braced for the pain. Like an idiot he’d gotten distracted, let them put a giant knife through him, and now he was going to bleed out in the middle of the woods on some quest for answers he didn’t know existed. His thoughts raced past, half formed memories that he’d been holding onto with desperation and emotions he didn’t properly remember feeling, interspersed with the image of his parents, crying on the driveway as he walked away. Was this what happens when an amnesiac watches their life flash before their eyes?

The blade got taken out of the tree, a thick piece of bark falling off and onto the forest floor before the man sheathed the thing. Danny raised his hand to his chest, confused. The pain had never come.

In fact, it was like nothing had happened at all. The blade had simply gone through him.

Like a ghost.

He ran away, running through trees and their branches, his steps silent and weightless, his hands barely there and transparent as he lifted them in front of his eyes. This wasn’t possible. It didn’t make sense, people can't just stop existing like this. That’s something he’d know, someone would have mentioned it as a possibility.

Right?

Something was wrong, horribly wrong and Danny fought against the feeling bubbling up in his chest, tried to force it down, and ran face first into a tree.

Groaning, he felt around his tender nose. Apparently being incorporeal wasn’t a permanent thing, it was just… something he could do now. Or maybe, it was something he could always do. How much of him as he currently existed, was from his parents experimentation, and how much was from when they’d tried to “fix him”. Would he ever get an answer?

Danny let his head fall back into the grass and listened for the sound of anyone following him. It would be quite a feat, he supposed, if they even realized he’d left with the way it went down. So instead he looked up at the sky, started counting stars, and let himself fall asleep right there. This dream was of an endless forest and a strange, guttural language he’d never heard before, but found himself understanding.

After he got out of the woods he went to a small town. It was nice, cozy even and the people were pleasant to be around. Even if they threw him the occasional odd look due to his filthy worn hoodie and unwashed hair. He took the chance to sneak into a gas station bathroom and try to wash some of the dirt that had caked on his face, there was nothing he could do about the dark circles though. They were a permanent fixture at this point and Danny almost wouldn’t recognize himself without them.

Once he was finished with that, he walked around a bit more, looking for stuff he could do, people he could help. The ache in his chest had come back after his long stint in the woods, and he was eager to take this opportunity to try and soothe it.

Unfortunately, a filthy stranger walking around town wasn’t exactly the most trustworthy character and Danny struggled to find anything he could do that wouldn’t just scare someone off. It was when he’d asked around outside the arcade if anyone needed help with something around town, that an adult man had stopped what he was doing, looked him up and down, and said “you trying to get a job?”

Danny, not knowing really how to answer, just nodded. He was, in reality, just trying to find someone to help payment not needed, but he wasn’t going to turn down an offer like that either.

The man just sighed and said that he’d needed help moving some of the machines into the back and that, legally, it was a two person job. He offered twenty bucks and Danny shook his hand eagerly, a large smile on his face.

The man introduced himself as Marsh Hangreeve and explained that there were about half a dozen machines that needed to get moved, either they were broken without repair, no one really played them any more, or they were so outdated that all the cords were starting to fray and become a health hazard to the younger kids that sometimes wandered around the arcade.

The first one they lifted had been lighter than Danny was expecting, and they were able to easily maneuver it exactly where Marsh had wanted it in the back storage closet. Once they’d set it down, he’d had given Danny an approving look, nodded, and led him to the next one.

They were on their way back from carrying the fourth, and Danny was feeling pretty pleased with himself, when a kid no older than six had ran past them and tripped over the wire of one of the damaged games, pulling it off balance. The entire machine tipped back, towering over the fallen child and Danny couldn’t stop himself from running forward if he’d wanted to. His very being hummed and pulled, and he was there, one arm holding up the machine and the other curled around the child, protective.

Marsh had screamed a warning, but it hardly mattered. Danny lifted the machine easily back into place and gently picked up the child in his other arm, before stepping away and setting him back down.

“Hey,  are you okay?” he asked the frightened child, concerned.

“Is he okay?” Marsh scowled, “are you? Boy I told you those were a two man job why would you run over trying to get yourself squished like that!”

Danny rolled his eyes, clearly it wasn’t as heavy as it had been made out to be, “and let him get crushed instead?”

Looking over at the kid Marsh breathed out a frustrated sigh, “I guess you have a point. But don’t do it again or you can forget the twenty bucks I owe you. Here kid, let’s find your parents.”

Danny smiled, it felt good, helping people.

Was that the human part of him though? Or was it something else?

When Danny and Marsh finished the job he’d gotten his twenty dollars and a free dinner, and Danny gratefully accepted. Despite everything, he really did like being around people. Humans were kind by their very nature, and Danny basked in that feeling as much as he could on his journey. Sure, sometimes he felt more like he was taking advantage than anything else, and it was selfish almost, to seek out civilization only for his own needs.

But he tried not to think about that too much either- it sometimes caused a physical ache in his heart- and let the free meal settle as he fell asleep again, under the stars. They were particularly bright that night and he could have sworn he heard the ticking off a clock as he drifted away to sleep.

It was getting colder. It made sense really, he was headed north afterall. And he’d made plans for that, for the winter cold and the snow. He’d gotten a winter coat from walmart by sneaking in through the walls, it turned out he could spread that particular power to anything he touched, and fought the wave of guilt that hit him every time he did something like that.

He justified it in his mind with two different familiar voices. One that was easy going and carefree and told him, “hey you need that more than anyone else does, besides who’s going to miss one silly coat if it’ll save your life it’s worth it right?” The other was more steady, almost righteous and it said that “large conglomerates like Walmart and other stores gain most of their fortune on the backs of workers. They could stand to lose a bit of merchandise.”

His plan, once it got too cold to stay outside, had been to use the truck stops and sleep there, insulated from the cold at night before heading out again in the morning and continuing to walk. He’d had the fleeting thought, that perhaps he was headed to the north pole, and that there was no way for him to get there, no matter how long he walked, because that just wasn’t what humans can do.

Then again, he should have known better than to think himself limited to what humans can do.

It was when he woke up, covered in snow and more comfortable than he’d been any time Maddie had tucked him into bed under layer and layer of warm blankets, that he realized the cold didn’t just not affect him: it was a comfort.

Danny had held the snow in his hand and marveled at it. It didn’t melt, nor did it’s cold sting at him, and Danny found himself sitting, enraptured, by the intricate detailed designs that every flake formed as it fell. He blew the snow from his hands and watched as more formed, icy and solid and buzzing with the same kind of energy he felt just underneath his skin. Could he make ice now?

Was he Jack Frost or something? It certainly made sense, Jack Frost could apparently turn invisible and supposedly took the form of a young man riding on the wind. Then again, he’d never read anything about Jack Frost being able to turn visible, and Danny didn’t think he could fly.

Could he?

How would someone even go about discovering that?

As eager as he was, Danny wasn’t about to go jumping off cliffs or anything, not when he was so close to his answers. To the end of the rope that’s been leading him, tugging at his chest. So Danny just shook the snow out of his hair, marveled at the comforting soft feel of it, and continued his trek.

Amity Park had a sign on the outskirts proclaiming it “a nice place to live” and Danny felt something click into place as he walked past the town’s boundary. His emotions were suddenly running wild, as if he’d been starving them, and suddenly he could feast. He had to take a step back but there was something stopping him, a cry for help and he ran towards it, energy flowing all around him too much to keep inside too much to hold and he felt as a bright light surrounded him and he flew forward, his legs fading behind him until he came upon a scene straight out of his nightmares.

It was a monster, terrorizing a young woman, probably in her early twenties if that. The monster was large, glowing, and only just opaque enough to not look like some kind of hologram. Danny flew in front of it, putting himself between it and the girl and growling a warning. He wasn’t thinking about how his feet weren’t touching the ground, he refused to question it for fear of the ability going away without his control. He didn’t look down.

The monster stopped, a stunned look on its face, “ghost boy?” it asked. Danny frowned, why did that voice sound familiar? Was he really something from his dreams? How much had he dismissed as fantasy only for it to be reality, law of nature breaking reality?

“What did you call me?” Danny asked, risking a glance to see if the woman had run yet. She hadn’t, instead she was just standing there, smiling, and when she noticed him looking, she waved. He fought a blush, what the hell?

The monster laughed, “I knew you hadn’t Faded! They all told me I was crazy to hunt for prey long dead, But I, Skulker, was right! And here you are!”

Danny didn’t know how to react to that. Did he know this thing? Wait, no, clearly he knew this thing. It was somewhere, scrambled with the rest of his memories. Flashes of cages, and fights, constant paranoia, and Danny felt his hand grow cold as he built ice in it to attack with.

The woman called out though, no longer afraid, “oh please. He’s only been gone, what a year? Weren’t you crying just last month about how much you missed him?”

Danny turned around to face her, “weren’t you scared? Why are you still here?”

At the same time the monster, Skulker, sputtered, “I was merely lamenting the loss of such rare prey!”

The woman just giggled, “how can I leave when my hero has finally retuned to save me~”

There was something weird going on here. For one, everyone seemed to recognize him, but neither of them had used his name. For two, he and this Skulker were clearly floating in the middle of the day and almost no attention was being paid to them at all beyond the woman who’d originally called for help.

Who clearly no longer felt she needed it.

“Hold on,” Danny said, struggling to sort through the information he was being given, “you two know me?”

Skulker’s grin dropped and the girl gasped.

“What do you mean by asking such an absurd question! You and I are mortal enemies! Of course we know each other!” geez, he didn’t have to get so offended.

Danny crossed his arms, “what’s my name?”

“Uh,” Skulker looked down towards the woman before looking back at Danny, “you know you’re usually a bit more tightlipped about that. It’s really not sporting to hunt prey that isn’t in it’s right mind.”

Danny scowled, “why would I be tightlipped about my name? Ugh, this is a waste of time. Just,” he pinched the bridge of his nose, “leave the lady alone and go do something I don’t know, Hunter-y that won’t piss me off.”

“Why would I-”

“Or I can freeze you into a block of ice that doesn’t melt,” Danny threatened, feeling the energy build behind his eyes.

At Danny’s glare, the hunter gulped and feigned looking at his watch. “Huh, looks like it’s time to go feed that gorilla, I’ll uh, be back to hunt you later Welp!” He flew away.

Danny sighed and let himself float gently downward until his feet touched the floor. The woman ran over to hug him, eager, and Danny just let himself go intangible, unwilling to be touched so casually by someone who basically amounted to a stranger.

“Do you know my name?” he asked, warily.

She blinked, “Of course! You’re Phantom, ghost boy and savor of Amity Park. Did you hit your head or something?”

“Or something,” he answered, still stuck on something she said, Skulker had called him that as well, “what do you mean when you say ghost boy?”

Her eyes widened and she brought one of her hands, slender and perfectly manicured, to cover her mouth as she gasped. “There is something wrong. I knew you wouldn’t leave for so long without a reason!”

Quicker than he could react to, she grabbed his shoulders and led him to a store front window. Whatever she was trying to show him was probably inside, but Danny was struck instead by his own reflection, ghostly and glowing with bright green eyes.

He disappeared.

The woman called out to him, not thrown at all by his display of power, or by how much a freak he must be. Was he the same as the monster he’d almost fought earlier? They’d called him ghost boy, was Skulker a ghost? Was he?

But he couldn't be. That didn’t make sense.

Someone couldn’t be alive and dead…

Unless…

Experiments…

“We were trying to fix you Danny.”

His chest hurt again. And he followed it subconsciously, taking a path through town on auto pilot, and trying not to think about his changed appearance. When had it happened, why? Was it something he could undo, like the other powers he had?

Why did this town feel so different from all the others? What was the giant spike of energy drawing him like a moth to flame in the center of everything. Was that what was pulling him here? Or was this just where he needed to be?

How long was it going to take to get him memories back anyways. There wasn’t even a clock tower here! Hadn’t that been his goal, the one thing he knew to look for?

His path had brought him to an old torn down building on the end of a residential street. It hurt, for some reason, to look at the rubble around him and not know what happened here, or even what it used to be. But he knew there was something here. He could feel it. The energy buzzed around him and he looked around, checking if there was any other crazy people or dangerous “ghosts” before he simply, let himself fall down through it.

He found a lab.

Not just any lab, but the lab from his nightmares. The beakers, the buttons, the ominous table with thick metal cuffs and dark green slime long dried on it. He put his hand to his chest, almost feeling the scalpel as it sliced into him. Taking a breath, he pushed it away, buried and hidden, he could think about that another day.

For now, all his attention was on the glowing green and purple swirling mass of energy that was singing at him like a song. It pulled him in, and he floated towards it, this power newly discovered and yet second nature, just like all the rest.

He hesitated for a moment, before he went through it. What if what he was looking for was over here, on this side of whatever that was, and he couldn’t get back out? What if he really was dead, and that led to the afterlife? What if he was missing the answers to his questions by going through?

But he’d followed the pull to this town and he’d found familiarity as foreign as it was, and now he was following his gut.

He braced himself and flew through.

What he found was a swirling green void that made no sense and defied what little laws of nature Danny remembered existing, like gravity and sense. Danny had the feeling that it went on, winding and stretching, for an eternity and that no matter what way he went, he could get lost forever and never find his way back.

That didn’t matter though, because right in front of him, larger than life and bigger than anything around it, was the clock-tower he’d been searching for.

It didn’t look like it belonged there, in fact, with it’s size and the relative barrenness of the collections of floating rocks and doors around him, it seemed rather ill placed. Like something had forced it somewhere it didn’t fit and Danny approached it cautiously.

There was no reason to believe that this was safe, just because he wanted it to be, just because his shattered mind had somehow put together that it was. He stood at the doors. In all reality they were ominous and foreboding. The entire tower was, sharp angles, deep purples and glowing greens. He didn’t feel scared though, so he lifted his hand to knock.

The door opened before he even touched wood and there, right in front of him, was another ghost. One he’d never seen before, with blood red eyes and a nasty, twisting scar hidden partially under a deep purple hood and a clock, ticking, familiarly, in his chest.

Danny felt tears build, his lips wobbled, his hands trembled as he clenched them tightly into fists, and when the ghost lifted his arms Danny flew into them clutching tight and crying. He heaved large, ugly sobs into his shoulder and felt a hand stroke down his back to comfort him.

“Welcome home.”

#Danny phantom #Phic Phight #Phic Phight 2021 #phic phight 21 #Clockwork dp #Clockwork #amnesia #Listen I wasn't going to make a sequel!!! the prompt made me do it!!! #Bee's writing

[wordsintimeandspace]

Comfort, One Way or Another

Jon has never been one to ask for comfort when he needs it, but somehow, he still finds himself in Tim’s bed after a bad week. It would be nice, if it wasn’t for the hangover - and the fact that he has no clear idea how he got there.

Jon/Tim, rated T, ~3200 words. Read on AO3!

Jon wakes with a pounding headache in a bed he doesn’t recognize. It takes him a moment to push aside the fuzziness clouding his mind and take it all in: the lavender bed sheets, the muted light streaming through the curtains, the stack of books on the nightstand and - oh, God - the arm slung around his back.

Jon freezes, his heart in his throat. For a long moment he doesn’t dare to move, not even to turn his head to see who’s in bed with him. Just as he’s ready to leap out of bed and flee, the person behind him mumbles something in their sleep and… oh. Oh. He recognizes that voice.

It’s Tim.

Jon finally manages to roll over to see his face without dislodging the arm wrapped around him. Tim is still fast asleep, lips slightly parted and hair falling onto his forehead. He looks peaceful and calm, so different from the energy that usually courses through his veins.

Jon lets out a breath of relief. He’s still not quite sure how he got there, but waking up next to Tim instead of a stranger makes the whole thing a lot less alarming. It’s still startling though, because ending up in other people’s beds is not something he generally does. But generally he also doesn’t drink a lot with his basically nonexistent alcohol tolerance - and if the headache and the hazy memories are any indication, that’s exactly what he did last night.

~~~

There was a pub, and music, and alcohol. Definitely too much alcohol. And there was Tim, all bright smiles and easy banter, a warm shoulder pressed next to Jon’s. Jon remembers how they got there - it had been a bad week, and an even worse day. The kind of day where he used to bury himself in research until he was exhausted and refused to talk to anyone. Just a few months back, no one of the other researchers had cared. But now he’s friends with Tim, and Tim had taken only one look at him before he’d pulled Jon aside to ask what was wrong. Even after Jon had insisted that everything was fine, he’d brought him tea and sent him cat gifs and bullied him into lunch. And took him out for drinks, apparently.

That’s how Jon had ended up in a dimly lit pub, well on his way to being plastered, squeezed into a booth with Tim next to him and struggling to follow whatever story Tim was telling. Because Tim was right there, his shoulders and thighs pressed against Jon’s, a warm presence that was both comforting and overwhelming in its intensity. Something inside Jon’s chest ached, and for a long moment that was all he could focus on.

 He couldn’t remember when he’d last been hugged, or kissed, or held. Touched in a way that was more than just a clap on the shoulder or an accidental brush of hands. Jon hadn’t been close to anyone since Georgie, and for some reason he couldn’t fathom society had decided that prolonged touching was reserved for romantic and sexual relationships. So, here he was. Drunk and sad and touch-starved, his entire mind occupied with imagining how it would feel to have Tim’s arms around him, holding him close to his chest. How it would feel to let himself be comforted by the quiet thrum of Tim’s heart beneath his cheek, and stay just like that until the grief that had consumed him this week had waned.

 Tim nudged his shoulder against Jon’s, interrupting his thoughts. “Are you listening?” he asked, bemused.

 Jon shook his head before he could stop himself, but Tim was never mad when Jon was being rude. Instead Tim just laughed, even as Jon winced. “I’m sorry,” he finally managed to say. “I’m just… I’m just thinking.”

 “About what?”

 “I- I want…” He trailed off, embarrassed, but Tim’s eyes were soft, and his hand was warm as it covered Jon’s.

 “You can have anything you want, Jon. Just ask,” Tim said gently, with a smile that was kind and understanding and entirely too much for Jon to bear. Jon turned his hand until he could interlace his fingers with Tim’s. He didn’t ask. He wasn’t sure how. Instead, he took a breath and leaned in to kiss him. It took only a second before Tim kissed back.

~~~

Jon’s cheeks heat up as bits and pieces of the last evening finally come back into focus. He still isn’t quite sure how they went from kissing in a pub to ending up in bed together, but the reason is fairly obvious, he supposes. The thought makes his stomach churn with anxiety, but he tries his best to brush it aside. It’s only Tim. And it’s not like he hates sex. It’s- it’s fine, if something happened. At least they’re both wearing clothes right now, or this would be a lot more awkward.

Despite his anxiety, Jon can’t bring himself to move. Not just because his head protests every movement he makes, but also because he’s comfortable, aside from the throbbing behind his temples. He definitely got more sleep than he had in the previous nights, and Tim’s arm that is still draped over him is warm and grounding. It’s nice to wake up like this, and if he’s feeling like shit he can at least indulge a little.

For a while, he drifts off again. But it isn’t long until Tim wakes up as well, and his movements are enough to rouse Jon from his doze. He squints against the light that is still too bright for his aching head, and turns to Tim who is already looking at him with an unreadable expression on his face. Tim smiles as their eyes meet, and still doesn’t move his arm from Jon’s chest.

“Good morning,” Tim says casually, as if waking up next to a work friend after a drunken night out is just a normal thing in his life. Maybe it is. Jon is never quite sure what counts as normal among his allosexual peers.

“Morning,” he finally says, wincing at how hoarse his voice is.

Tim looks him up and down, frowning a little. “How are you feeling?”

Jon lets out a groan. Emboldened by just how casual Tim is about this whole thing he shifts closer and presses his forehead against Tim’s shoulder. “My head is killing me,” he grumbles.

Tim lets out a small laugh and gives him a sympathetic pat on the back. “That was to be expected, I suppose. I can get you some painkillers in a moment. Are you feeling okay otherwise? Any nausea?”

“No, not really. But I’m not, uh…”

“What?”

“I’m... not quite sure what happened last night,” Jon finally admits.

Tim sits up a little, propping his head up with one hand. “How much do you remember?” he asks, concern clear in his voice.

“I’m, uh.” Jon flushes, stumbling over his words. “I remember that we kissed. And then it gets a bit… hazy.”

“Yeah, you kissed me. Didn’t think you’d go for such a thing, especially with me, but I’m definitely not complaining,” Tim says with a grin.

Jon gulps, bracing himself for the answer to his next question. “Did we…?”

“What?” Tim frowns, but then his eyes widen. “Oh! No. I mean, you certainly tried to get into my pants, but no. We didn’t have sex.”

“Oh.” Jon blinks, perplexed. Somehow, that wasn’t what he expected. He looks down to where Tim’s arm is still resting on his chest, his fingers moving in small circles over Jon’s stomach. This still doesn’t add up. “Then… why am I in your bed?”

“Look, I tried to sleep on the couch, but you looked like you might cry when I suggested that. So here we are, in one bed.”

“Right.”

Tim suddenly stills his movements, his eyes widening in alarm. “Is that okay? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed that it would be-”

“It’s fine,” Jon rushes to say, covering Tim’s hand with his own before Tim can snatch it away. “This is… this is fine. I don’t mind.”

“Okay.” Tim smiles, a bit apprehensively, and gives Jon’s hand a squeeze before letting go. Jon immediately misses his warmth. “I’ll get you some painkillers and you can get a bit more rest while I go and make breakfast. How does that sound?”

“I- yes. Thank you, Tim.”

Tim flashes him another smile before jumping out of bed with way more energy than should be allowed after a night out. He comes back just a moment later with a glass of water and a bottle of ibuprofen, and Jon gratefully swallows down two pills before he collapses back into the cushions. Tim leaves him to it, so Jon closes his eyes, listens to the sounds of Tim rummaging around in the kitchen and begs his battered memory to please give him context for Jon trying to get into Tim’s pants. Christ. He can’t believe that happened.

~~~

Jon wasn’t quite sure how they made their way to Tim’s flat, but it wasn’t really important. The important thing was that they were finally alone, and he could press Tim against the wall all he wanted. Could press closer until they were finally touching from head to toe. Could slip a hand down Tim’s shirt to feel the heat of his skin against his fingertips, and swallow the gasp that escaped Tim’s lips with his own. Tim wrapped one arm around Jon’s waist and moved the other hand into his hair, and Jon melted against him with a mewl. He could feel Tim’s grin against his lips.

 It was warmth and comfort and closeness all in one, and it was everything Jon needed from this night. It was only when Tim bucked his hips against Jon’s that he suddenly remembered that it was also something else for Tim.

 “Alright?” Tim whispered against his lips, a hint of concern in his voice, and Jon belatedly realized that he had stilled after feeling Tim hard against him.

 He nodded. “Yes,” he managed to get out, rolling his hips against Tim’s to make him gasp. Tim tightened his grip around Jon’s waist for just a second before pulling back.

 “Bedroom?” he asked, his cheeks flushed and his eyes dark.

 Jon nodded again, almost automatically before his brain finally caught up with the situation. By then, Tim had already taken his hand and was leading him to the bedroom. The thought was enough to send a sudden spike of anxiety through him. Jon froze, but Tim was still tugging him along, and he stumbled over his own feet before he could bring his muscles to move again. Tim’s arms wrapped around him before he could hit the floor, and Jon let out a breath as he curled closer, burying his face in the crook of Tim’s neck as he waited for the world to stop spinning.

 “Jon…”

 “Mhh.”

Tim sighed, pulling away from Jon and gently cupping his face. Jon squirmed under his gaze as Tim looked at him, really looked at him for probably the first time since he’d first kissed him. His heart sank as Tim’s searching expression turned into a frown.

 “Jon, you’re very drunk.”

 “Mhh. Yes, I think so. It’s fine.”

 Tim sighed again. “No, it isn’t. Jon, I’m not going to have sex with you.”

 Jon blinked in surprise before his eyebrows drew together into a frown. “Why not?”

 “Because you’re drunk, and I’m not exactly sober either, and I don’t want you to do anything you’re going to regret tomorrow.” Tim paused, letting out a short laugh. “Don’t look at me like I just kicked a puppy. I promise you, if you still want to have sex tomorrow I’m all in.”

 A feeling rushed through Jon that he stubbornly refused to call relief. In any way, it was quickly replaced by the sting of rejection. Jon gulped against the tears burning in his eyes. Tim was still so close, touching him in all the right ways, comforting and reassuring. For the first time this week, it felt like he could breathe. As if Tim’s touch was the only thing holding him together. “I- I don’t-” he started, not quite sure how to put his feelings into words. His voice wavered. “I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

 Tim’s gaze softened. “I’m not kicking you out, Jon,” he said gently, leaning down to press a kiss to Jon’s forehead. “You can still stay, if you want to.”

 Jon nodded, closing his eyes. Tim’s lips were warm against his skin. “I’d like that.”

 “Good. Come on then.” Tim pulled back with a smile and took Jon’s hand again, and Jon let himself be led towards the bedroom, his earlier anxiety all but gone.

~~~

Jon eventually crawls out of bed and stumbles into the kitchen. Tim is standing at the stove, stirring bacon and eggs in the pan. There’s already a plate of toast on the table, and two steaming mugs of tea on the counter. Tim flashes him a grin, and for a moment Jon is overwhelmed by the desire to cross the room and wrap his arms around him. Instead, he slumps down onto a chair. He’s not quite sure how to navigate all of this just yet. Maybe he should apologize.

“Are the painkillers working?” Tim asks before Jon can figure out what to say. He gives Jon a concerned look over his shoulder.

“Yes,” Jon says truthfully, rubbing his temples where there’s only a slight pressure left. “I’m feeling better.”

“Okay, great.”

Still struggling for words, Jon watches Tim load the bacon and eggs onto two plates, and springs up to help with the tea despite Tim’s protests. Then it feels wrong to bring it up during breakfast, so he doesn’t. Instead, he waits until they’ve eaten and Tim has bundled him onto the couch with a large glass of water, ordering him to rest and hydrate. As soon as Tim is done with the dishes and falls down onto the couch next to Jon, the words blurt out of him.

“I remember some things. About last night,” Jon hastily says before he can back out. His cheeks are burning. “All the relevant parts, I think.”

Tim looks at him, eyebrows slightly raised, before giving him a wink. “I didn’t forget my promise, by the way. The offer still stands, but no pressure.”

“I’m, ah-” Jon stammers, not quite sure how to continue.

Gently, Tim reaches out and takes Jon’s hand in his. “I’m serious,” he says softly. “No pressure. I won’t take it personally if you changed your mind. We all do things we don’t mean while drunk.”

Jon lets out a breath and looks down to their hands. “It really isn’t personal. I promise it’s not you, it’s…” Jon hesitates. He thinks of the bi pride pins on Tim’s messenger bag, and the way Tim had chewed out Greg from Artifact Storage after he’d knowingly misgendered one of the statement givers. He decides it’s safe to utter the next words. “I’m asexual.”

Tim’s eyes widen in understanding. “Oh. Um, okay.”

“... is it?”

“Yes, of course.” Tim smiles, giving Jon’s hand a squeeze. Relieved, Jon lets out a breath he was holding. “Thank you for telling me.”

“Yes, well. It seemed… relevant, after last night.”

“Yeah. But I’ve got to be honest, I’m a bit confused. I mean, I know some ace people have sex, but I assume you telling me now means that you don’t, so I don’t quite understand why you would… you know. Last night.”

Jon lets out a frustrated sigh, trying to gather his thoughts. “I just- I meant what I said last night. I didn’t want to be alone,” he finally admits. “And I just wanted...” Oh, how can he still not say cuddle, for God’s sake? “... contact.”

“And you thought the best way to get that was to proposition me?”

“I was drunk,” Jon says defensively. “And, well. That’s how people usually do it, isn’t it?”

Tim looks at him with an expression that is somewhere between fondness and exasperation. “Jon,” he eventually starts, his voice gente. “Can I hug you?”

Jon blinks in surprise. “Um. Yes,” he finally manages to say. “Please.”

Tim pulls him into his arms, and Jon readily squirms closer until he can rest his head against Tim’s shoulder. Tim is still so warm, and his arms around Jon’s shoulders feel grounding and safe. This might be even better than last night, Jon decides, now that his senses aren’t dulled by alcohol. He lets out a content sigh, smiling into Tim’s shirt as Tim drops a kiss to the top of his head.

“I’m sorry if anything I did last night was making you uncomfortable,” Tim eventually starts. “I probably should have paid closer attention. I never wanted to make you feel like you had to do something.”

“Tim, no. You didn’t, and you don’t have to apologize. Especially since it was you who stopped me from going too far.”

“Still, I should have-”

“Nothing we did was making me uncomfortable,” Jon interrupts quite firmly. His cheeks flush as Tim raises an eyebrow, waiting for him to elaborate. “I- I’m serious. I like kissing. I was having a good time.”

Tim lets out a small, relieved laugh. “Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. I’m glad.”

“I might have liked the sex as well. It’s not something I usually do, but it can be nice. I just… get anxious about it and overthink every move, but, well. It’s not terrible.”

Tim looks at him, a bit exasperated as if he’s about to say ‘not terrible is clearly not good enough Jon’, but in the end he only lets out a sigh and pulls Jon back into an embrace. “I’m still glad I stopped you before we got there,” Tim says as he rests his chin on top of Jon’s head. “I’m glad we’re okay.”

“Me too,” Jon says quietly, wrapping his arms around Tim and settling back into the embrace. Closing his eyes, he rests his head on Tim’s chest. He needs a moment to focus on it, but there it is: the steady beat of Tim’s heart, right beneath his ear. He listens to it for a while, lets the rhythm calm his thoughts while Tim’s arms hold him together. It doesn’t mend the wound that had plagued him all week, but it makes it easier to breathe for the moment. Easier to look ahead, to the days soon to come where the pain will be nothing but a quiet noise in the background.

“It was the first anniversary of my grandmother’s death yesterday,” he finally says after a long moment, his voice quiet. “We weren’t very close, but, well. She was the one who raised me after my parents died. The only family I had left.”

Tim tightens his arms around him. “Oh, Jon.”

“It’s- I’m fine, usually, but somehow it hit me harder than expected this week. I don’t know.”

Tim hums, rubbing his back. “Grief can be like that,” he finally says quietly, with a certainty that makes Jon think he’s speaking from experience. “Sneaks up on you when you don’t expect it.”

“Mh. It’s easier, like this. When you’re not alone.”

“I’m glad I can help. Just promise me one thing?”

“What is it?”

“Next time you want a hug, or a cuddle, or… anything, really - please just ask.”

Jon lets out a huff, lips curling into a smile. “I promise that I’ll try. As long as you do the same thing.”

Tim laughs quietly, and drops another kiss to the top of Jon’s head. “It’s a deal.”

#the magnus archives #tma #jontim #tma fic #my fic #I don't think anyone here is reading my tma fic #but I've decided I still want it all on tumblr #so here we go!

[lady-divine-writes]

The Hitchhiker - Chapter 1/4

Picking up a hitchhiker isn't exactly the dumbest thing Kurt has ever done, but it's not exactly the smartest either. When he comes across Blaine Anderson caught in a sudden downpour, he can't just leave him on the corner to drown... can he? (1756 words)

Read on AO3.

“Excuse me? Sir? Do you need a ride?”

Kurt flashes as confident and honest a smile as he can to the man standing on the side of the road. But the second those words leave his mouth, he hears his father’s voice in his head yelling: “Kurt Hummel! What the hell are you doing? Picking up a hitchhiker? Are you out of your mind!?”

And Kurt has to admit, the voice is right. 

There is a fifty-fifty chance that this man, standing alone in the dark by the side of the road, is a violent serial killer. His outfit alone perpetuates the stereotype - indigo jeans, white t-shirt, leather jacket. He has an olive-green duffel slung over one shoulder and he's carrying a guitar case, for God’s sake! What are the odds that there’s actually a guitar in there!? If Kurt picks this man up, he has a greater chance of becoming a statistic than of that man being a musician! Kurt should drive away now without an inch of guilt, floor it without looking back.

And he probably would have deferred to his better judgment and stepped on the gas had it not been for a few things. 

It's pitch dark out for a start. Only a handful of street lights line the curb, installed twenty or so feet apart, which creates long expanses of shadow in between. The road they're on is in the middle of nowhere, with trees towering on both sides of them. This doesn’t help Kurt’s argument any since it seems like just the place a killer would lie in wait for a potential victim. But, in that same vein, someone or something could be stalking him, waiting for Kurt to drive away so they can pounce on him from the trees. Then it would be up to the reach of this man's legs and his athletic ability to save him.

This leads directly to reason two: the man is a klutz. In the five minutes Kurt has been stuck at this red light, he’s seen him smack himself in the face with his own bag, drop his sunglasses (pink rimmed Wayfarers, no less), catch them, then fumble them again, and step in the same puddle twice. If this man is a serial killer, he may not be the most competent one on the planet. 

Three, just as Kurt’s light turned green, it started raining. And not the light drizzle he has come to expect during his infrequent forays to San Diego, but an honest-to-God downpour. Kurt saw the man turn his face up to the sky, his shoulders slumped, wholly defeated by this new development. He put the butt of his guitar case on the toes of his shoes to keep it out of the mud, then attempted to wrap his jacket around it.

And Kurt’s heart melted. 

Kurt is a musician himself. Singer more than musician but he has friends who play the guitar. His stepbrother Finn owns a Fender that he sold plasma to afford. Puck's Gibson is the only thing he has never hawked when he needed money. And Sam, in this man's position, would take off every stitch of clothing to protect his Blueridge if it came down to it. Kurt can imagine this man’s whole life wrapped up in that case, which he is now convinced does hold a guitar.

Kurt isn't a gun enthusiast by any means, but he thinks a semi-automatic should be able to withstand some weather. He may want to Google that one later on… provided he’s still alive.

And about that guitar case: it isn’t a plain, generic, black guitar case. The thing is covered in travel stickers and bling. It has a personality all its own. An easily identifiable personality. If this man is a killer, Kurt is pretty certain every human on the West Coast would know about it. He’d be nicknamed the Kitsch Case Killer or something along those lines. That case sticks out like a sore thumb. There’s no way a man carrying a guitar case decorated like an old-school Lisa Frank binder is getting away with swiping a pack of gum, not to mention murder.

To a lesser degree (Kurt tells himself so he doesn't have to admit how idiotic this idea is), this is the most a-dork-able man Kurt has ever seen. He looks more like a puppy than a predator (weak reasoning, he knows). But Kurt has instincts about people that are usually on the money. He has to give himself credit for making it this far in life. Kurt is tougher than he looks. He has taken his fair share of licks, and he’s still ticking. 

Plus, he has bear repellent in the pocket of his jacket the size of a can of Aquanet. He feels he has his bases covered.

The man walks slowly towards Kurt's car, the curls piled atop his head hanging heavily down his cheeks the wetter he gets.

No, Kurt can’t leave him out here.

“Um. Thanks. Thanks a lot,” the man says, cautiously eyeing Kurt up and down as if he may be asking himself Kurt’s same string of questions in his head. “But I… ” The fact that he isn’t jumping at Kurt’s offer, that he’s glancing anxiously down the road, mulling his options even as rain pours down his back, puts Kurt at ease. The man looks like he’s trying to gauge if Kurt might have a weapon hiding somewhere on his person, contemplating if he’ll come out of this alive if he accepts this ride. 

Ironic, but that proves that there are two sides to every situation.

The man looks about to step away and decline until a fork of lightning turns night into day for five seconds, a boom so loud following it shakes Kurt’s rental car. 

“Sure. Okay. Why not?” He pulls open the rear door in a rush but still wary as he puts his belongings into the backseat and joins Kurt in the front. “Thank you so much. I didn’t expect it to rain this hard, or I might have stayed in my hotel room one more night.” He runs a hand through his hair, cringing at the water that sprays the headrest.

“Not a problem.” Kurt reaches behind the seat and grabs the towel he’d fished out of his luggage earlier when he’d done the same thing. But the rain was only a sprinkle then – angel spittle, his mom would have called it. “I couldn’t just drive by and leave you out here to drown.”

The man chuckles. It, much like the rest of him, is too cute for words. “My name’s Blaine.”

“Kurt.” Kurt extends a hand for Blaine to shake. Blaine looks at it, hesitates a second before taking it, still questioning Kurt and his intentions, Kurt assumes. Despite being stuck in the rain, Blaine’s hand is warm, comforting in a way Kurt speculates a serial killer’s hands would not. “Well, Blaine, where you headed?”

“Oh, uh… I’m trying to make my way to L.A. But you can drop me off anywhere between here and there.”

“Ooo. Actor? Producer?”

“Unemployed schlub, unfortunately. Currently riding my brother’s couch. He’s the actor. I’m the… the failure.”

Kurt pulls onto the road again and heads for the highway. “That’s a really unkind thing to say about yourself.”

“It’s what… well, it’s what my father would say.” He wrings his hands uncomfortably. “He’d also say I’m a disappointment, a waste of a Harvard education, a bum… ” He shivers. Kurt raises the temperature of the heater. Blaine glances at Kurt in embarrassment, and Kurt gets the hint that it’s not the cold that has him trembling.

“I know it’s not my place to say, but I’d stop listening to your father if I were you. It doesn’t seem like he has anything worthwhile to say.”

“How can you say that? You don’t even know me,” Blaine says under his breath, with an edge like a growl, the kind wild animals give when you stumble into their territory unaware. It sets the hairs on the back of Kurt’s neck on end, and he starts second-guessing this decision. 

Relax, Kurt. The man’s just beat down. Exhausted. You understand what that’s like.

Blaine sighs, sinking into the passenger seat and leaning his head against the window. "I'm sorry. I know you're trying to be nice. It's been a long day." 

“I understand. And I may not know you, but I know fathers," Kurt continues. "A father’s job is to be supportive of their children, no matter what they do in life. Succeed or fail, win or lose, they should always be in your corner. And if he’s not, screw him! Surround yourself with people who want to lift you up, not tear you down.”

Blaine winds his arms around his torso, hugging himself tight. “I---is that the way your father treats you?”

“Yup,” Kurt answers with a subconscious smile at the mention of his dad. “He supports me in everything, even the stuff he doesn’t entirely agree with. And when things don’t work out, he’s the first person there, helping me to my feet and encouraging me to try again.”

“Sounds like a great guy. You’re lucky.”

“He is," Kurt says proudly. "And I am.”

Blaine fixes his gaze to the road ahead as Kurt merges onto the highway. He chews the inside of his cheek, stares too hard at the rain-slick asphalt, not shifting focus. It's as if he can't bring himself to look at Kurt when he asks, “So, you think you’re a good judge of character?”

Kurt nods. “Yes, I do."

"How do you know?"

"Experience. I have a decent track record.”

"Surround yourself with a lot of questionable people, do you?"

"I guess you can say that," Kurt agrees with a laugh, thinking of the people who have come into his life that he has adopted as his own: Rachel, Dave, Santana, Puck, all of them rivals or bullies. Or both. But now, a cherished part of his found family.

People he hopes will miss him if SDPD finds him by the side of the road tomorrow with his throat cut.

Stop it, Kurt! Relax! You're in no danger! Everything is going to be fine!

Blaine shrugs, examining his wet hands as if he’s reading something etched on his skin. “Someday you’ll be wrong.”

“Probably." Kurt meets Blaine's eyes in the reflection of the windshield, flashes his confident smile again. "But I don’t think that day is today.”

#klaine #klaine fic #klaine fanfiction

[easily-infatuated23]

The Tub: Draco Malfoy x Reader

a/n: this is my first one of these so sorry if it sucks but here goes nothing!

Part Two Here

warnings: just some light fluff, small mention of bullying

summary: reader is having a really hard day and when she goes to relax in the prefects bathroom the unexpected occurs 

word count: 2k

The castle is enormous. So enormous that getting lost becomes part of my daily routine. But sometimes, its so crushingly small it's hard to find a place to be alone to get away from the constant noise of what feels like hundreds of middle and high school students. Everyone’s first choice of escape is the astronomy tower, so much so that a Ravenclaw tried to institute a sign up sheet as to insure the crowds wouldn’t mass as much. They were unsuccessful. The truly hidden places of the castle are few and far between and for those of us who aren’t lucky enough to find the Room of Requirement, we must get creative. The most recent spot I have found is the Prefect’s bathroom on the sixth floor. Moaning Myrtle will sometimes float through but we are on good terms so she generally will leave me alone.

As a Seer, the noise of the world is extra loud in my head. It's bad enough to have the regular noise, but the passing through of others’ thoughts is exhausting. I have gotten better at shielding myself but it takes a lot of energy. The Prefect’s bathroom has been a wonderful solution because within the chamber is a large bathtub which I use as a jacuzzi, to relax and reset. I am just so tired. The added layer of being Seer as well as a non pure-blood in Slytherin, takes its own individual toll. My family had been pure-blood until my parents. My mother had married a muggle man.

I started late in the sequence of years at Hogwarts. My family moved from America to England which meant I transferred into school third year. For a while people were interested in me but that died down within the first month. However, when I let my family heritage slip, I became as talked about as Harry Potter. As a descendant of Merlin himself, people began to attempt to get close to me just for the idea of “fame” rubbing off onto them. Harry and I have had discussions about it together but I know he secretly enjoys it, even if he doesn’t know he does.

Today wasn’t just any typical Thursday. The excitement for Christmas break was buzzing around the castle, practically inescapable. The world was loud and I was tired. Luckily, today is a short day so I was able to escape to the Prefect’s bathroom after lunch. I usually waited until I knew most of the castle was either at a meal or doing homework but today the world had been especially loud. I tentatively filled the tub checking my surroundings for a stray ghost or student. Once it was full I climbed in and allowed myself to fully relax. The noise melted away and it was like I could finally breathe.

After only fifteen short minutes I heard footsteps and looked up to see the last person I would expect or want to see, Draco Malfoy. The Prince of pure-blood Slytherin, the cruelest person within the castle besides Professor Snape. He had never gone out of his way to be mean to me in particular, but if one of his buddies started something he would be sure to join in. When people found out about my abilities, I had been forced to read him in front of practically the whole school. I saw such pain and fear in his life that I nearly passed out. To prove to him that my abilities were real, he told me to tell him something from his past only he would know. I said “a talking diary and a ripped page from a bookstore”. Ever since then, he never challenged me again. And yet here he was now, invading my hidden corner, my escape from everyone.

We locked eyes as he walked in and we both froze. “What are you doing in here?” he asked sharply. I didn’t reply but simply began to get out and grab my things when his voice interrupted my actions. “I’m not gonna make you leave I was just asking. You looked dreadful during Potions today, are you ok?”. For the first time, his words and his tone matched and seemed genuine. “Everyone has been really loud today. Let's just say that if I never hear the sentence ‘is he gonna ask me to the Yule Ball’ again it will be too soon” I remarked. He chuckled and looked down at his shoes. I now became acutely aware of the fact that I was standing in front of him in just a bikini in a steamy room. My cheeks flushed and I slipped back into the tub. “Why are you in here Draco?” I asked. He looked up at me and sighed. “This is usually where I come to hide but I got here a bit later than usual, I didn’t think there was competition for this spot”. I frowned and looked away from him. “Yeah that’s my bad, I usually am in here much later in the day. It’s just been such a loud day already. I needed to decompress earlier than usual”. He walked closer to me, then circled the tub to sit on the window sill. After a few minutes he spoke. “Does it actually help quiet the world? To sit in there I mean”. He gestured to the tub. “Yes it does actually”. I replied.

This was the weirdest but nicest conversation I had ever had with him. I had never been fully alone with Draco before, was this how he was when he was removed from his asshole friends? In a moment of impulsive thought I blurted “You are welcome to join me if you’d like”. Shit. Why did I say that? This guy is literally the worst. “Wouldn’t that just add noise in your head?” he asked. “No, when its a group of ten or less I can actually turn everybody off quite easily. Anymore then that and it gets harder and harder”. He nodded and then looked out the window. I could see his mind working through his grey eyes, deciding if he would stay or go. Finally, he shrugged. “What the hell”. He kicked his shoes off and began to loosen his tie. I wanted to look away but I couldn’t help myself watch him undress. I finally looked away and closed my eyes, relaxing my head on the edge of the tub.

The tub was big enough around that he could sit on the other side and we wouldn’t touch. The water churned as he got it. He sat closer to me than I had anticipated but I tried not to think about it as I took a deep breath and let my mind wander. “This is surprisingly relaxing”. His voice for the first time didn’t sound as strained or coarse as normal. “How did you find out about this?” he asked. I opened my eyes and looked at him, puzzled. “Have you never been in a jacuzzi?”. He shook his head. “Wow well that’s one thing wizards should definitely adopt from the muggle world” I replied, with a smile. He looked away from me quickly. Was that a hint of blush coming from his cheeks? Probably just from the heat of the water I rationalized. “Do you do this everyday?” he asked. “At least once a week. It's good for the soul”.

There was then a long period of silence. At first the silence was uncomfortable, but the longer it persisted, the more comfortable it became. A couple times I could have sworn that the water churned in a way that would indicate him moving closer to me. I didn’t dare check. I kept my eyes closed as the odd smile would flow across my face without thought. When I finally did open my eyes, he was less than two feet away from me. We locked eyes and I smiled. He gave a timid smile back before looking away again. I wanted to use my abilities to slip into his mind and hear what he was thinking but I held myself to a strict rule. “This seems like a pretty necessary time to use it” the voice in my head remarked. I physically shook my head to expel that thought from my mind. I felt his eyes on me. “I wasn’t inside your head by the way. I thought about it but decided that didn’t hold up with my rule so I shook it out of my head”. “You can if you want” he replied. I looked at him and sat up a bit. “My rule is I only purposefully do it if absolutely necessary or if the person gives me permission or asks me to do it. Are you asking me Draco?”.

The words flowed out of my mouth before I could filter them. Was that flirty? Did I just flirt with Draco? The thoughts swirled in my head only to be broken by his response. “Yes I am” he said sincerely. “Can I have your hand? It’s easier if I have physical contact”. I said. He nodded  and stared into my eyes as I moved closer to him. I clasped his hand and imagined his energy and thoughts flowing into my brain. His head was relatively quiet, besides one thought practically screaming. I opened my eyes and looked into his, stunned. “What was I thinking?” he asked in almost a whisper. I swallowed hard. “You were thinking ‘is it wrong that all I want to do is kiss her’”. I felt my cheeks turn red but I didn’t break eye contact. “Is it?” he asked. “No” I replied, unaware that a smile had crept across my face. He smiled back as his eyes darted from my eyes to my lips and back. I moved his hand which I was still holding to my cheek. His free hand moved underwater to my lower back as he pulled me onto his lap. Our faces were so close together I could feel his breath. He moved his other hand to my waist as I cupped his cheeks with mine. In a tender moment, not overly embroiled with passion or lust, we kissed. It was innocent and sweet. It made everything else seem unimportant. It was as if time slowed to a stand still. After a few moments we both pulled away and shared a smile that became a laugh. “I can honestly say this is not how I thought my day was going to go” Draco chuckled. “Me neither” I added. Suddenly a thought popped into my head. “Wait what time is it?” I asked. He checked his watch. “Two o’clock, why?”. “Damn, I promised I would meet Ron for a game of wizard’s chess. I always beat him but he insists on constantly challenging me”. I started to pull away when I noticed his face drop slightly. I pulled close to him again. “I am not making up an excuse to run away from you. Believe me I don’t want to go but if I don’t Ron will come looking for me and this would be a hard situation to explain” I remarked with a chuckle. His face picked up a little. “Are you staying here over Christmas?”. “Yes I am” I replied. “I think I will too, I’ve recently started to fancy you and I kinda want to explore this without the pressure of the whole school being here, if that’s ok with you” he smiled. “I would like that”. “But for the moment we can’t tell anyone what happened here or that we are even friends” he remarked suddenly. “It’s not my favorite reputation to uphold but if my father finds out I am seeing or being seen with someone who is not a pure-blood..” he trailed off. I pulled his face close to mine again and looked deep into his eyes. “You don’t have to explain. Remember, when I read you two years ago? I saw all of your past. I understand why”. His eyes were sadder now but he still managed a small smile. “Ok now I really have to go” I said as I kissed him one more time before climbing out of the tub. He watched me as I changed back into my uniform, smiling a bit more smugly now. “When can I see you again?” he called after me as I walked towards the door. “Friday night, let’s meet in the common room. Everyone will be gone for Christmas by then”. “Its a date!”. I turned back and blew him a kiss which he caught and immediately pressed to his lips. My heart fluttered as I jogged to the Great Hall. “Oi, where’ve you been?” Ron questioned impatiently. “Sorry, got a bit caught up” I remarked, smiling at the secret Draco Malfoy and I now shared.

#draco malfoy #draco x y/n #draco x reader #harry potter #slytherin #draco malfoy x reader #hogwarts #harry potter au #ravenclaw #hufflepuff #gryffindor #ron weasley #draco malfoy imagine #harry potter fanfiction #draco malfoy fanfiction #tom felton

[wolf-zer0]

Ya want some WORLD-BUILDING????

Have some world-building!

*REMINDER* This is based on characters, not real people.  I’m not going to be writing any shipping/smut content, especially involving minors.  Please be respectful of content creators’ boundaries!

The Crystallos Empire (AKA the Antarctic Empire)

Largest the countries (takes up most of the southern half of the map) but agreed to stop expansion after a bloody battle with Valeriana 

Centered on a large snowy mountain in the middle of the tundra 

Mostly stays out of other countries’ business, but will step in as a last resort 

Has some of the most well-known citizens in the world because… they’re pure chaos 

Attack at your own peril 

Has vast deposits of ores and gemstones, and the metalwork from Crystallos (mainly weaponry, armor, and jewelry) is highly sought after 

The only known food export is potatoes.  Wonder why… 

Associated Colors: Royal blue, light blue, crimson, gold 

Aesthetic/Vibes: gothic vibes, white stone and large stain glass windows, not particularly opulent or extravagant but still impressively royal looking, think catholic cathedral but brighter and with less Jesus (can you tell I’m a recovering catholic yet?), spires shooting into the sky that’s visible even during a blizzard, cavernous halls full of sunlight and echoes, snow that can comfort and kill in equal measure

Notable Members:

Philza Minecraft:

Angel

Visible wings look like a harpy eagle

Probably the most powerful person in the world

Didn’t mean to start an empire it kinda just happened

Also didn’t mean to adopt kids but his Dadza alarm went off

Usually kind but will not hesitate to use violence when necessary

Technoblade: 

Is pig.  

With braid.  

At least 8 feet all

Extremely adept fighter, skilled in almost every form of combat.  

Not a people pig, prefers his potato farm to being a prince

Hella protective of his family but will not hesitate to bully when given the opportunity

Wilbur Soot: 

Muse who can influence people through song

Can’t totally control people (yet) but can subtly push them in a certain direction

The public face of the imperial family

Would rather insult than fight but can and will cut a bitch if he needs to

Because inspiration is fickle he’ll have some … strange episodes (see: the Sand Incident)

Tommy Innit: 

Child.  

Chaos incarnate.

Is he human?  Is he not?  No one’s sure yet.  

But he’s a gremlin and a hellion and willing to throw down at any moment.  

Has a surprisingly caring side, but no one outside his immediate circle has ever really seen it.  

The Kingdom of Valeriana (aka Dream SMP)

Oldest of the countries 

Located in the middle of a massive forest at the center of the main continent 

Home of the Fae Courts

Ruled by a single king who is chosen by a tournament held every 100 years 

Known for causing chaos in other countries, but after an Incident with Crystallos they have kept their meddling to annoyances rather than outright declarations of war 

Considered the most magical of all the countries, and traditional enchantments almost all come from Valeriana 

Associated Colors: neon green (duh), bright yellow, forest green, light brown, blood red (more saturated than Crystallos), rose gold 

Aesthetic/Vibes: spooky art nouveau (idk what else to call it), lots of plants and nature but with an edge of danger, poison gardens and carnivorous plants, hedge mazes that lead everywhere and nowhere, laughter deep in the forest, deer with eyes just a hair too human, Alice in Wonderland on steroids 

Notable Members: 

Dream: 

Current king of the Fae

As long as he’s touching the ground, he knows where everything and everyone is

Can terraform

Unlimited in the boundaries of his kingdom

Much more limited outside of his realm

No one has ever seen what he really looks like, even before he took the throne

Since people outside the kingdom don’t know who he is, he’ll wander the outside world and challenge random people to fights

Never says what happens to the losers

Only one person has ever beaten him: Technoblade

He might have a lil obsession around Techno, but it’s fine.  

A little competition is healthy.

Sapnap:  

High Lord of the Summer Court

Dream’s right hand man

Likes fire a little too much probably

George: 

Human that Dream took a liking too and yoinked from the mortal world

Dream and Sapnap made him immortal but he hasn’t realized it yet.  

Skeppy: 

Changeling who started growing diamond-like scales across his body

Is vaguely allied with Dream simply because he’s Fae, but is more loyal to BBH

Like a lot of other Fae, likes to make challenges but he makes them less deadly.  Not totally safe, just less deadly.

Badboyhalo: 

Demon who was kicked out of hell because he was too nice

Found Skeppy in the Overworld and the rest is history

Cursed by the Demon King that the moment he says a swear word, the entire world would end, but can never tell anyone that he is cursed

The Merchant’s Guild

Not quite a country, more of a international power 

Oversees the largest and most important businesses in the world 

Makes sure that no laws are broken between different countries and everyone gets a fair shake 

Has a very large reach, so some members have dabbled in espionage for various groups 

From the outside it looks like the whole thing is kept together with duct tape and hope, but its actually pretty functional

The main members are just… a lot. 

More concerned with keeping things working than influencing other nations (although there are still jokes about it) 

The most valuable thing they trade in is information

They have a lot of fingers in a lot of pots, but are trusted with their information 

Associated Colors: dark blue, teal, deep yellow, burnt orange, copper

Aesthetic/Vibes: art deco babie, angles and lines, very modern and streamlined, sleek suits instead of armor or robes, whiskey in a crystal glass, wars won by words not weapons, knowing when someone’s lying without them saying a word

Notable Members:

Schlatt: 

Ram-man with a plan

Not that bad of a dude, but is in a position where he is constantly in possession of highly sensitive information and that does things to someone’s mental state

Drinks pretty regularly but not a full blown alcoholic

Trying his best

Can be a snarky asshole sometimes

Quackity: 

Lucky duck.  literally.  

Duck man with an uncanny ability to absorb good luck from people (typically Fundy) and apply it to himself

No one knows when or why he joined the guild, but now he’s there

Pretty damn smart, but hides it behind humor

Fundy: 

FOX!  

With BEANS!

Trying his goddamn best but life (and Quackity) make it very difficult

Usually is stuck with the shit end of the stick when getting jobs/contracts/etc. 

Wilbur being his dad is an inside joke that’s gotten a life of its own.  

(No Fishfuckers Allowed!!!)

Puffy: 

Badass sheep lady who captains a ship and commands her own armada

Schlatt’s sister

Also part of Storm’s Landing’s council and acts as the main liaison between them 

Do not fuck with her she will kick your ass.

Storm’s Landing

Port city that became a country after becoming a safe-haven for seafarers

Led by a council of important people, with the head of the council known as the Admiral 

Closest ties to Crystallos and the Merchant’s guild because: 

1) Clingy supremacy!!!!

2) it’s a good idea for a guild to have good ties with a large sea power

3) all the dads for Tubbo

Associated Colors: navy blue, scarlet, white, brass 

Aesthetic/Vibes: Nautical (obviously) with heavy “Age of Exploration” vibes, barnacles crusted on treasure chests, think tall ships and pirates and shit, respecting the ocean because holy shit she’s gonna smash your boat to pieces on a whim because she can, has an edge of darkness because when you go deep enough who knows what you’ll find down there (maybe mermaids???) 

Notable Members:

CaptainSparklez: 

elected to Admiral after the previous Admiral went missing on a routine voyage 

(idk who it used to be, I just wanted to make him new at leading)

not 100% sure about the whole thing, but handling it pretty okay

still answers to “Captain” instead of “Admiral”.  

Niki:

If Storm’s Landing had a queen, would be it unquestionably

Never gets robbed even though there’s a well known “underbelly” in town

Could probably end wars with her croissants

Has a significant history of empathic abilities in her family, so she can tell how people are feeling at all times

Eret: 

Owns a magic store in town that really only shows itself to people who need it.  

Having a bad mental health day?  

He’s got a warm blanket and a cup of your favorite warm beverage waiting.  

Dysphoric?  

She’s got the perfect outfit and affirming words already prepared.  

Trying to find that specific book but can’t remember the title or plot, only vaguely know the color of the cover?  

They’ve got it.  

Ranboo:  

Not sure why he decided to move to a seaside city when he’s not chill with water, but now he’s here and he’s too anxious to leave

Known for teleporting around town randomly when nervous, and the people who find him are always willing to let a hand if he gets lost

Tubbo: 

This boi!  Has so many dads!  

Epitome of “Kindness does not equal weakness.”  

While a lot of people underestimate him, he’s not some fragile little flower

He hasn’t fully grown into his ability to speak to animals (he can only understand bees right now)

He’s just as much of a shit stirrer as Tommy.  

When they meet up, look out.  Something’s getting destroyed.

The Astral Academy

An independent university focused on advancing knowledge in the arcane arts and engineering 

Not a country, but has the political power of one due to their vast resources and building prowess 

People can’t enter unless they are invited or have been given entry as a student 

There are a bunch of potential doors scattered around the continent that could lead to the Academy, but no one is sure where the real entrance is 

Associated Colors: royal purple, lilac, sepia, sky blue, silver, bronze Aesthetic/Vibes: bright academia, massive libraries with bookshelves stuffed to bursting, workshop benches covered in scrap and prototypes, open air observatories, runes waiting to be translated, the crackling energy that comes from successful collaboration, falling down a research rabbit hole, bursting with pride after a project is a success

Notable Members: 

Sam

Purpled

Ponk

Punz

Antfrost

Jack Manifold

I don’t know much about these characters, so if you have any ideas please let me know!

Zero’s OC Land - The North Haven

Smallest and newest country 

Recently gained independence from under a cruel dictator (not schlatt lol)

Located in a pine forest at the base of a huge mountain range 

Has pretty good relations with the other countries, but outsiders don’t know much about them 

Main exports are wood carvings and leather goods 

Associated Colors: Maroon, dark brown, black, pewter 

Aesthetic/Vibes: medieval but with a modern twist, dark wood lit by a roaring fireplace, snow-covered woods without a living soul in sight, half timber houses and detailed wood carving, no outrageous ornamentation or extravagance 

Notable Members:

Tyr: 

Lord of the North Haven

trying to keep his people safe and protected

one of the few remaining Spirits (higher in power than the Fae, but lower than angels)

Spirit of Justice

lost a hand in the war for North Haven’s independence

didn’t want to become the leader but does a pretty good job at it

Adopted 5 kids and is trying his best

Bragi: 

Heir Apparent

24 year old human

can influence the world by speaking (not singing) but has to be careful about which words he uses

has a book full of phrases that have proven effects (a spellbook of sorts)

has a friendly rivalry with Wilbur

Freya: 

Spymaster

actually the oldest but abdicated because she feels she’s not the right person to lead a country

age unknown because she’s the last known [REDACTED] (it’ll be revealed, but I wanna build suspense)

has gyrfalcon wings and heightened senses

chronic insomniac

Forseti: 

Official Librarian

20 years old

hybrid with an unknown entity

has black fingers with sharp claws

always wears gloves to hide them

can create portals to places he’s been or to people he knows (the second is much riskier, but not impossible)

knowledge sponge

wants to join the Astral Academy but is too nervous to apply

Odin: 

Older Twin

The “Sensible One”

17 years old

Has an uncanny sense of direction

Can’t get lost no matter what

Can manipulate magnetic fields

Loki:

Younger Twin

The “Hot Headed One”

17 years old

can manipulate fire

idolizes his older siblings, particularly Freya

The Institute

Creeping around in the background

Up to bad things

Something’s going on in the world, but no one’s noticed yet

They will though… soon

Aesthetic/Vibes: minimalism (the worst kind of vibes imo), think laboratories or empty hospitals, harsh artificial lights and cold floors, labyrinths of monotonous hallways with no doors

#whoo boy #that got long #can you tell i have a creative writing degree #fsis au #find steel in silver au #mcyt au #mcyt #dream smp #antarctic empire #philza #technoblade #wilbur soot #tommyinnit #dreamwastaken #sapnap #georgenotfound #skeppy #badboyhalo #jschatt #quackity #fundy #captain puffy #captainsparklez #nihachu #eret mcyt #ranboo #tubbo #i tried to tag everyone but it cut me off #if u have ideas/questions hit me up!

[aconstantstateofbladerunner]

101 Open MHA Gen Prompts

I had a very long ask game where people gave me fake titles and I came up with fic ideas to go with them.  Multiple people asked to use some of them as prompts, and some of my friends have lately maligned the lack of gen prompts out there, so I decided to compile them all into a single post.  Almost all of these are gen, aka not shipping, but you can do what you want I’m not your boss.  Everything is free and open to use WITH CREDIT, so have fun with my word vomit.

1. In Dreams I Had the Sun - Being the number one hero isn’t all it’a cracked up to be, Toshinori realizes early on

2. The Chainlink Fence that Held the Ocean - In his new book post-retirement, All Might opens up about his regrets, struggles with mental health, and his issues with the hero system as a whole.  The backlash is swift and intense.

3. Welcome to the Loud Silence - After an injury, Izuku is rendered deaf.

4. Water Since Turned Red - After a villain attack nearly kills All Might, the beach where Izuku used to go to find comfort now feels tainted.

5. all scrap left untouched is bound together - A group hero students who failed the provincial license exam for the third time, effectively ending their careers before they start, get together to take revenge on UA’s first years who beat them out.

6. You’ve saved more more times than you know - Times All Might saved people without his powers, just by being a cool, nice dude.

7. No Amount of Tragedy Can Justify Your Actions - A dying All for One tries to justify his centuries of cruelty to an uncaring Toshinori.

8. To Leave a Cage Locked - One for All is conscious and has a will of its own, one that doesn’t always line up with Izuku’s wellbeing.

9. Okay, who let in the Kraken? - Izuku is the reincarnation of an ancient eldritch horror.

10. keep us alive up above - Izuku and Shigaraki get trapped together somewhere.  Izuku knows he needs the villain’s help to survive and escape, but the other would rather they both die.

11. The world will revolve around me neither less - The ebbs and flows of AFO’s influence over the years.

12. More Roulette, Not Russian - Kids get their quirks swapped.

13. Patron Saints - Toshinori teaches a class about pre-quirk superhero comic characters and their influence.

14. Don't Come Back - Touya Todoroki’s first few weeks after a severe injury resulted in his father abandoning him.

15. The Blessed and the Fool - Toshinori meets up with a few of his ua classmates after retiring.

16. Not Your Sacrifice - Some of the other kids have started adopting some of Izuku’s self sacrificing habits and the teachers are concerned.

17. Break in the Storm - Villains use a power outage as an opening to break into ua.

18. One Day Those Consequences Will Finally Catch Up - Even though the teachers don’t take her concerns seriously, Inko saves every piece of evidence regarding people hurting her son.

19. a garden in their eyes - Izuku meets a fan who got injured after trying to step into a villain fight, just like he did, and it makes him question some things.

20. what could have been, if not for you - After Inko divorces him, Hisashi’s goes to the press to say All Might stole his wife and son.

21. Promised Misery - All Might finds out the severity of Bakugou’s bullying, and warns him he’s on thin ice with him.

22. Fly Up Higher, Blossom Brighter - Izuku has to write a paper for middle school about being positive, intercut with all the bullshit he has to deal with.

23. Libre Me from Hell - One of Izuku’s new quirks is spiral related.

24. No One to Blame but Yourself - Izuku’s kindness doesn’t extend to murderers, tragic backstory or not.

25. At Its Finest - Izuku accidentally gets involved in a hero commission coverup.

26. A Rising Issue - Izuku starts developing more severe side effects of his injuries.  He’s convinced he’s under the influence of a quirk, while the adults thing he’s finally gone too far hurting himself.

27. What you are in the Dark - Izuku usually keeps most of his anger to himself until he can’t.

28. nowhere to go - Inko moves into UA after their home was destroyed.

29. Something Without - My theory about the 2 OFA vestiges that are blurred out is they don’t approve of izuku as a successor.  Izuku tries to figure out why. 

30. Walking with a Ghost - Toshinori joins the OFA dreams while he’s in a coma.  He gets to reunite with nana, and is more open to Izuku about his past and feelings.  Part of his starts to wonder if it’s worth waking up, since he will die and join the others eventually.

31. Death By Crying - Izuku is affected by a quirk that will suffocate him if he expresses any emotion.

32. Justice is Subjective - The hero commission gets to Shigaraki before AFO does.  

33. Undo / Underdog - Death loop fic.  Izuku keeps reliving the day he met all might after being killed by the sludge villain.  he has to find a way to break the loop and survive, but he gets s little weaker every time he restarts.

34. Like Wildfire - A rumor that Izuku is All Might’s bio son picks up steam, and the characters have to decide whether to deny it but risk suspicion or play along and add a new layer to the lies protecting one for all.

35. Once Upon A December - All Might and Inko actually met in the past trope.

36. Some Legends Are Told - All Might’s first interview post-retirement.

37. Will The Real Mentor Please Stand Up - Aizawa considers himself the better teacher, but a lot of the kids seem to like All Might more.

38. I don't want the cure, I want the POISON! - Inko is killed in a hit and run, and Izuku becomes desperate to find the killer.

39. I will kill my heart before I dance on stage for these bigots - Izuku is interviewed as a rising star of UA, and the interviewer brings in some of his old bullies because they claimed to be his friends from middle school.  Izuku does not play along.

40. Split Ends - A quirk gives Izuku brief visions of what would have happened if he made different decisions.

41. Dreamless Sleep - A One for All dream leaves Izuku with a cryptic half-warning, and he desperately experiments to try and figure out how to trigger the visions to get the rest of it.

42. toxic flowers and pretty blades - Young Inko escapes the constricting life of her cruel wealthy family by becoming a vigilante.

43. The Suns we Orbit - Some of the other teachers believe Izuku is too codependent on Toshinori, and separate them for a time.

44. Submerged - Similar to those buried alive fics only someone’s in a box at the bottom of the ocean.

45. Deprive - Izuku also loses his stomach to an injury, and struggles to adjust to the necessary lifestyle changes.

46. The ashes fall like snow - Post Kamino cleanup.

47. Home will always be here - Inko cares for Izuku after he’s sent home due to “trouble at work study” but he refuses to clarify what that means.

48. Playing Favorites - A look at several times where Izuku was punished, while Bakugou got off scot free.

49. Elusive Dreams - Some kind of training or issue forces the kids to stay away for several consecutive day, and they start losing it.

50. Fracture - Izuku struggles through physical therapy after a severe injury that leaves his hero career in question.

51. Starlight, Starbright - Space cadet au

52. Someone in Your Corner - Gran Torino looking after Nana, Toshi, and finally Izuku through the years.

53. I cast magic missile into the darkness - Generic “the gang plays d&d” fic.

54. One Month At A Time - Izuku breaks a limb, and has to let in heal naturally over the course of several months.

55. Head Above Water - Izuku runs out of his pain meds and can’t get access to more doses for a while, so he has to endure not only the pain, but the withdrawal symptoms.

56. Are you going to leave a path to trace - All Might uses a new strategy to try and get Izuku to be less self sacrificial: what about all the young kids who are going to look up to him?

57. The View from Halfway Down - Izuku realizes that a risky move has just landed him with a potentially life threatening injury, but the fight it still going.

58. The Dust Bites Back - A villain All Might defeated early in his career is back and out for revenge.

59. The Absence of your Worth - Nighteye thinks he’s put together a rock solid case for why izuku isn’t worthy of One for All.  All Might’s response is to ask if he has something against quirkless people.

60. Behind the Screens Nobody is Afraid - All Might explains some of the context of his most popular hero videos to Izuku.  They are much more tragic than the media has spun them in hindsight.

61. Under the Light of the Moon - Someone gets turned into a werewolf.  And I ain’t talking the wattpad piss shit.  I’m talking full-on back-breaking monstrous transformations into a bloodthirsty abomination set to Bad Moon Rising.

62. some dreams were made to be broken - Bakugou crosses a line and finally gets expelled.

63. You Say You're Into Closure - Izuku finally beats Bakugou in a one on one fight fair and square, but Bakugou is a sore loser.

64. Something or Someone Missing - AU’s memories of Izuku get wiped, but those closest to him can’t help but feel an absence.

65. Too Little Too Late - Izuku’s father returns to find he’s been replaced.

66. Collecting Dust - Inko goes through the stuff Izuku didn’t take to the dorms.

67. Where the souls of wanderers go - Toshi meets up with a retired hero support group.

68. Fragility of Trust - Suspected traitor au

69. no one answered - Izuku is trapped in a cell in a building that’s collapsing in slow motion due to a quirk.

70. Eye of the Storm - One of the other kids has a panic attack for the first time between public appearances.  izuku has never seen from from the outside.

71. To Whom It May Concern - The kids find a mysterious collection of letters from previous students hidden in the ceiling of the classroom.  Some are ominous, some are incomprehensible.  Aizawa has no answers.  They enthusiastically go to try and solve the mystery within, but that excitement quickly diminishes the more they find out.

72. Of Popsicles and Ponytails - All Might gets in a discussion with the other teachers about whether the Clark Kent glasses thing would actually work.  All Might bets them it does, so he goes around town with no disguise other than his hair being up, and no one bats an eye.

73. All Men are Not Born Equal - Word gets out to the public that izuku used to be quirkless.  Everyone finds out just how deep anti-quirkless sentiments run when some begin to question whether a quirkless kid should be at ua, regardless of whether or not he has a quirk now.

74. Childhood is the kingdom where nobody dies - Something about encountering death in person for the first time being the dividing line between child and adult.

75. Sins of the Father - All for One has had many children over the centuries, and has made numerous attempts to groom them into the ideal heir with several different methods.  None of them worked though.

76. Where The Dead Come To Rest - The kids come home after a long, grueling mission where they saw some shit, and are too tired to process what they went through.  They take off their gear for plain clothes, then sit in the common room in silence long into the night, not wanting to open themselves up but also not wanting to be alone.

77. Rivalry - Nighteye tries to pit Izuku and Mirio against one another.  It goes right over Mirio’s head, but Izuku becomes convinced the other boy is in on Nighteye’s plan to wear him down until he gives up One for All.

78. A Subtle Language - All Might and Nana never said out loud that they loved each other, but little things told them that they did.  All Might hopes to pass a similar love down to his own successor.  But Izuku is very different than himself as a kid, and he needs to learn a new subtle language of affection.

79. It’s Gone - One for All stops working one day.

80. A Sight For Sore Eyes - All Might looking after Izuku in the aftermath of the second movie.

81. Loose Lips (sink ships) - Bakugou blurts out something about One for All during a rage, so the rest of the class jump on him and Izuku for answers.

82. No Expectations - Word gets out that All Might is going to choose a successor.  None of the theories or speculation online resemble Izuku in the slightest.

83. Eden was Only a Garden - Izuku gets hit with a quirk that erases some of his most traumatic memories, but in doing so loses part of who he is.

84. Run it Down - With all Izuku’s new quirks and his incredible skill, some of the other students with similar powers (Iida, Sero, Uraraka) start to feel like izuku is upstaging them.  And it affects their friendship.

85. Fool's Gold - Bakugou grows even more jealous of Izuku having One for All, and his relationship with All Might.  He thinks that if he could just prove himself to be more worthy, All Might would change his mind and name him his successor.  But in reality, he ends up jeopardizing the relationship they already have.

86. somewhere down the road - The final deadline for Nighteye’s predictions passes, and All Might lives.  He debates telling Izuku, as even though it would be a weight off the boy’s mind, he doesn’t want to jinx it.  He will still die eventually after all.

87. Just For You - All Might has certain rules and boundaries for fan interactions that he completely ignores for Izuku.

88. if these walls could talk (their whispers would be maddening) - Montage of training accidents in a ‘cursed’ ua gym

89. If Only I Could... - Nighteye tells Mirio about One for All, including that he thinks he’s more deserving than Izuku and he plans to pressure him into giving it up.  Mirio struggles with the knowledge that his mentor, someone he respected more than anything, only saw him as a replacement for All Might, meanwhile watching Izuku strain under the pressure of that mentor’s impossible expectations.

90. This is a Test Designed to Provoke an Emotional Response - shameless Blade Runner AU

91. Once and for All - Retelling of the Superman story “What’s So Funny About Truth, Justice, and the American Way?” with All Might.  Some new heroes use much more aggressive and violent tactics against villains while also upstaging All Might.  That, and there general approval from the public cause All Might to question his moral code.

92. Sitting In The Rain - Tsuyu likes to just sit out in the rain sometimes.  Not do anything, just sit there.  Some friends decide to join her.

93. At Sundown - Mysterious creatures start attacking ua every night.  The gang works tirelessly during the day to find the cause and a solution, while defending their school and each other at night.

94. The 1000th time's the charm - Uraraka has been practicing a new move in secret but they just can’t get it right.  She wants it to be perfect before showing it off.  But one attempt gets her seriously hurt while training alone at night in one of the gyms, and she’s too hurt to get up to the phone to call for help.

95. Sunflower Seeds - All Might attempts to start a garden as a new hobby.

96. What It Means To Be Human - Sun god Toshi starts living among people.

97. Eyes on Me - All Might teaches Izuku some unarmed fighting moves to defend himself from bullies.

98. one remains - Izuku has developed all but one of the quirks he’s slated to, and he has no idea what it will be.  Anxiety ensues.

99. Come Back Home - Izuku vanishes from campus and everyone assumes he was kidnapped, but in reality he ran away to try and clear his head after a depressive spiral.  He goes by train as far away as he can until he comes to his senses and calls the others.

100. I Won - Izuku accidentally managed to kill Shigaraki during a skirmish, and while everyone around him praises his heroics, he struggles to deal with the fact that he killed someone.

101. Ivory Tower - All Might grapples with how much izuku suffered as a quirkless person, how he could have done more for quirkless rights in his time as a hero, and how now people may not care as much because he’s retired.

Reminder to credit me if you use any of these prompts, and a special thanks to everyone who submitted titles!

#mha #bnha #mha prompts #bnha prompts #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #dad might #all might #toshinori yagi #midoriya izuku #deku #bakugou katsuki #aconstantstateoffanfiction

[portraitoftheoddity]

So like I really like Steve and all and he's definitely got the right heart and that's what fandom likes about him, how he stood up to bullies and injustice with his fist raised. But recently I've rewatched avatar and Aang got me thinking, is going against the world fist ready really the right thing. Like Aang was no coward he still stopped Ozai but in most of his battles he tries for peace first. In fact Avatar as a whole talks about change in people.

Like Sokka turned from misogynistic to respecting women, and Iroh's love and patience redeemed Zuko. As much as I love Steve Rogers, fist fighting bullies and getting your ass handed to you or successfully beating them to a pulp isn't going to change them, and it sends a wrong message of fighting fire with fire and bullies don't learn when you punch them usually they get pettier. I agree Steve is right at not letting injustice go be it canon or fandom but Iove that scene in avatar when Aang got into a fire nation school and when a guy tried to fight him he was just like nooope but still managed to be on top as opposed to Steve (maybe just fan fic ver) who would try a punch. I mean I can see Steve screaming at the lies of the fire nation school instead of calmly informing the truth and throwing a dance party. Like Aang might be too pacific sometimes but is charging against people really a good lesson. Stand for what's right, but like in a chill way. And I'm not sure if this is just the fandom version of Steve but in TFS we did kinda see him in an alley fight against a just a ride guy. Sorry about the long rant but what do you think about Steve's fight me attitude being completely glorified in his fandom.

I apologize that I’m gonna gonna get a little long-winded here!

I agree with you that peaceful solutions are great to try first, but when it comes to this punch-happy version of Steve you reference, I think you’re kinda looking at a strawman version of the character, anon --  maybe from poorly-written fic or memes, but not exactly the Steve of film or comics.

Now, the respective approaches of both Aang and Steve are in part a product of the media they originated in. A show aimed at kids with a single overall plotline and arc is often going to aim for a peaceful solution and allow for linear character growth -- while comics, movies and shows developed around a character specifically designed to punch Hitler as a statement during WWII are less likely to have a core message of pacifism, and their structure and circular timelines make growth arcs more difficult to sustain. This doesn’t mean one character’s approach or the other is superior, just that they come from different contexts, narratively and in terms of medium. Plus, there are different kinds of fights, and not all are going to offer us the same options as solutions. Looking for ideological purity -- only ever opting for the ‘right’ solution -- can often lead to doing nothing when no ‘right’ solution presents itself, which can result in more harm than taking a less-than-perfect action.

Let us not forget that when an authoritarian army showed up to kill everyone and wipe out the North Pole, Aang does go all Koizilla with the ocean spirit and wipes out the Fire Nation fleet. Aang has fought people. Aang, albeit with the alibi of “a spirit was in charge”, indirectly kills people (Zhao ends up pretty dead as a direct result of Aang’s spirit rampage). This isn’t particularly glorified, but at the time there isn’t a better outcome presented. Doing nothing would have led to the massacre of the Northern Water Tribe.

That said, I LOVE ATLA and its messages of growth and compassion and I think it’s great to have a protagonist who opts to give people a way out.

...Which is what Steve does. 

We see Steve do this more than once. In CA:TWS, Steve recognizes Bucky and tried to get through to him, to avoid a fight. One ensues, but Steve then refuses to fight him anymore once he’s disabled the helicarrier and saved everyone else, willingly putting his own life on the line to gamble on some part of Bucky’s inner self being in there and worth saving. He isn’t willing to put the lives of other innocents and noncombatants on the line -- protecting them is a priority, even if it means fighting Bucky -- but once that factor is out of the equation, he drops his shield and tries to reach him.

In the same movie, a few scenes earlier, Steve appeals to the personnel of SHIELD -- an organization that has labeled him a terrorist and been hunting him -- and paints out the reality of the situation, giving the good people within the opportunity to react and rebel against the element of HYDRA that has infiltrated -- which they do! But there isn’t a magical lionturtle showing up to tell him how to stop the helicarriers from taking off and murdering millions of people without any casualties, so, yanno. He does what he can. 

Heck, Steve is occasionally teased by other characters for his speechifying -- not just to give pep talks, but to try to get through to people. He does this in the comics a lot. You’ve probably seen this page going around:

It doesn’t always work out. But he tries.

You suggest Steve would punch someone who was wrong in Aang’s Fire Nation School, but I don’t agree with that reading on the character based on what we see Steve do. Steve very rarely is the one to completely initiate a fight. Usually he is reactive. He sees a situation where someone is being a jerk, points out the injustice, and if the person is insisting on hurting someone, Steve inserts himself to make sure it’s him instead of anyone else. Whether the jerk in question is a single bully or an entire army.

You bring this scene up, but when Steve confronts the guy heckling in the movie theater (who is making a woman cry, I’ll add), it’s clear from the man’s posture when he stands up and Steve’s look of dread that while Steve has spoken up, the escalation to violence is not his choice. When we see him a moment later in the alley, he’s fighting defensively -- drawing the man’s ire, keeping him distracted. Steve is reactive in this entire scenario -- not the instigator. (and I think if Steve had Aang’s airbending, he’d love to dodge more punches instead of getting his ass kicked!)

The fact that Steve’s primary weapon is a shield -- a symbol of defense, not offense -- speaks to the fact his entire MO is protection. Violence not for violence’s sake, but to intervene in existing violence when there is no other recourse.

But Steve also admittedly has a stronger sense of responsibility than Aang does at the series’ start. Aang dodges, but he also gets called out by other characters for running away from a lot of his problems instead of confronting them. Steve, if he were a bender, I think would likely be an Earthbender like Toph; solid, stubborn, listening and reacting (though ironically, he would lose his shit over the willful obliviousness and apathy of Ba Sing Se’s leadership). Steve feels a deep personal duty to always be in the thick of it where things are already at their worst. 

If there had been no deus ex machina energybending option presented at the eleventh hour, would it have been better for Aang to die and doom the world than to compromise his morals and kill the Fire Lord? It’s a question of hypothetical principles vs reality of harm in that instance. Aang as a character is allowed by the story to adhere to his principles and get a happy ending. Steve as a character does his best, but ultimately has to compromise with reality when he has to, when it’s not just his life at stake, but many others should he fail to act in time. In those high-stakes scenarios, his cards are often limited.

Steve as a character doesn’t arbitrarily start fights. But he goes to where the status quo is untenable, or where a fight is already raging, and he takes a stand. If he can convince someone to step down peacefully? That’s ideal! But usually by the time Captain America has shown up, there are megaweapons primed and loaded and fascists already hurting people or robots trying to destroy the planet or a Titan about to wipe everyone out, so the ideal option is rarely still on the table. No dance party is gonna be enough to change Red Skull’s crazy nazi mind about killing everyone (which is too bad, because I’d love to watch Steve do the lindy hop). There is no ‘chill way’ to stand for what’s right at that point. 

And ultimately, I think we need both kinds of characters! I think it’s important to encourage diplomacy and compassion, to urge people to find common ground and to find nonviolent ways of diffusing and deescalating situations. To look at things from other perspectives, and to give people the option to learn and grow and be better than they were. I love a good rehabilitation arc, and think ATLA does this beautifully and has incredibly important messaging and philosophies.

But I also think we need stories that say, hey, when those options aren’t on the table? When no one is listening no matter what you try to say, when you’ve looked for a way around it and no lionturtles have showed up to save your ass? Sometimes, you have to put yourself in front of the guy swinging punches and raise you shield and stop him. Sometimes you don’t get the nice options that make you feel good; sometimes the world is messy and ugly; but sometimes, even if we can’t do the ideal thing, we can still do the right thing. Take action and put an end to the perpetuation of violence in the moment to protect the helpless. (Then work on rehabilitation and communication.)

#lena has thoughts #meta #avatar: the last airbender #steve rogers #captain america #Anonymous #lena answers things

[aceofspadegrass]

Pancake Day, but Better

Characters: Niragi Suguru, Dori Sakurada, Last Boss, Cabot, Aguni Morizono, Chishiya Shuntaro, Hatter

Genre: Crack Part 2, now with pancakes.

1.9k words

Prompt: Can you do like a sequel for that dori and niragi crack,cause i want to see dori in pancake day and introducing himself to chishiya,last boss(and catbot)aguni,and hatter. And i have an urge that maybe hatter would like him because how he dresses himself how hatter likes it to be,also chishiya would just go up to niragi and say" Wow, he's actually even more better then you niragi. Maybe he's smarter then you too" As he walks away leaving a a angry niragi - @a-simp-20

(Counts as a Part 2 to this)

*Rubs hands together* Heck yeah, more gentle chaos. Time to gently bully this giraffe lizard man again.

Now with the added addition of pancakes! Fun times for all!

Despite the laws of the Borderlands and the highly likely chance that nobody knows the actual date that passes by, people still managed to produce what someone offhandedly referred to as the 'Borderlands Holy Day'.

Now, what pray tell was the Borderlands Holy Day? Was it a religion?

Despite the fact that it had 'Holy' in its name, no. It wasn't a religion. Although if someone tried hard enough it could become almost like a cult. Wouldn't be the first time.

So what was it?

Well, obviously.....

It was Pancake Friday. The greatest day of the century. The premise was simple enough: Every Friday everyone gets a pancake. A single pancake. Want more? Well, you better bet and compete for other people's pancakes. The only thing more exhilarating to the members of the Beach than winning games and living another day to party and do fuck-all was Pancake Day.

So, of course, when Friday rolled around, people weren't thinking of anything except the spoils of little bets and competitions over the week, thick fluffy pancakes topped with whatever they pleased and whatever the Beach had in stock at the time. Even Niragi was thinking about pancakes, because what's better than bragging about how many pancakes you got that week?

Nothing, that's what.

Pancake Day was great.

Niragi walks down the corridor with the strut of a man that knew he was feared, and he heads to the dining area where the pancakes would inevitably be given out. People were already there, a few making last minute bets in an attempt to win just a little extra amount for the day. Niragi found it almost amusing. Such a pitiful sight. Niragi himself had already gained a total of four whole pancakes, two of which he won off of some idiot who just thought he was really pretty.

" There's a lot of people here. It must be really important, right?" A smooth voice pipes up from just a little behind him, and Niragi is reminded quite forcefully that he didn't come here alone.

" Of course it's important, it's Pancake Day! Haven't you ever heard of it?" Niragi spat, Sakurada merely shrugging and walking away to talk to other members of the Beach. Niragi scoffs and storms away. At least he didn't have to think about the other him anymore, no matter how neat he looked.

He ends up finding Last Boss standing in the corner by himself, watching everyone else with a self made distance, leaning against his katana. His cat was chilling right besides his foot, apparently having her snack before the pancakes came out and making quiet eating noises. Niragi made sure not to accidentally step on her, which wasn't that hard to do. Niragi stares at Last Boss almost expectantly, waiting for even the slightest hint of a greeting, but all the other man does is stare ahead, lost in his own thought.

So, like a completely normal person would do to a guy ignoring the other, Niragi starts poking Last Boss in the side with his sniper rifle.

" Hey. Hey. Hey. You awake?"

Last Boss just continues to ignore him, and Niragi's pokes get a little harder the more he gets ignored. " Hey! Why are you ignoring me! Come on!"

Last Boss finally looks in his direction, and Niragi grins in victory, Last Boss just staring at him blankly. " Fucking finally, you were ignoring me."

Last Boss just continues to remain silent, but Niragi didn't care, instead putting his rifle back to balance on his shoulder as he looks out among the people still puttering about. Niragi could barely make out that Sakurada guy, who was talking to some random nobodies, Niragi scoffing to himself. He points him out to Last Boss, whose gaze follows the direction of Niragi's slender finger.

" See that one? Yeah, that one busted into my room and kept spraying me with water, the nerve of that guy."

Last Boss mutters something under his breath, Niragi not picking it up properly. He glances at Last Boss suspiciously, Last Boss just continuing to stare off at Sakurada without any sign of emotion on his tattooed face. Niragi groans, and he looks back in the direction of Sakurada, only to see that somehow the bastard has disappeared. Niragi frowns and looks around from where he stood to see whether he could see him again, but no dice.

The area was getting more and more full the longer Niragi tried looking, to the point that he gave up even trying. At some point Last Boss' cat had finished her snack, and he could feel Cabot rubbing her body across his legs as well just for the hell of it. He looks down at the feline, Cabot just doing her own thing like she usually did.

" Hey you little fuck. What's up." Niragi mutters down at the cat, Cabot just continuing on her little rub spree before going over to Last Boss and meowing loudly until Last Boss bent down and picked her up, Cabot resting happily with her butt in the crook of Last Boss' arm and her head and front paws draped over his shoulder.

Niragi rolls his eyes at the sight, and finally the time had come, Hatter walking in with the utmost grace, people cheering him like they do every time they see the man, with Aguni not that far behind. Niragi and Last Boss head towards the little stage Hatter insisted needed to be built for Pancake Day, standing in position as Aguni joins them, Hatter going up to the Pancake Podium.

" Greetings everyone! Today is the glorious and absolutely magnificent Pancake Day! I hope all of you have worked hard to acquire your pancakes!" Hatter shouts with arms outstretched like a bird's, people cheering and whooping excitedly. " I, for one, have a total of five whole pancakes, as throughout the week I have worked hard to get them from my loyal and beautiful members, and that one person who sadly perished in a game and bequeathed their pancakes to me for many months to come! May their soul be at rest, the courage of them~" Hatter announces, the crowd going wild.

" Now, may the pancakes commence!"

People scattered to tables near immediately, and the kitchen doors open as the designated chefs come out with the freshly made pancakes on carts. Niragi and Last Boss end up following Aguni and the rest of the executives plus Hatter to what was apparently the special table, used only by them.

Niragi grins as he leans back in his chair. At least Sakurada would stay away for now-

" Oh, there you are!"

Speak of the devil. Niragi shuts his eyes in annoyance as his clone comes over. Several pairs of eyes shoot to him, and despite his eyes being closed, Niragi could still feel the smug and interested smile Chishiya was giving off.

" Oh? And who are you, you splendid looking being?" Hatter's voice rings out. " Your outfit is immaculate, but I have never seen you before. No, wait...... I have seen you! Except less fancier. And usually with a hat. Who is sitting right there."

Niragi wanted to shoot this man so bad.

"My name is Sakurada Dori, it is very nice to meet you." Sakurada greets them.

Niragi finally bothers to open his eyes as Hatter stands up, and apparently does a quick check over of Sakurada, nodding to himself. " Yes, you are absolutely stunning. I love what you've done!"

" Are you the one that made Niragi take off his hat?" Aguni asks, low and stoic as always. Niragi rolls his eyes at that. He didn't intend to get rid of his hat, Sakurada just kind of yeeted it outside his window without even asking. The nerve of this guy.

Sakurada quickly nods. " I will get him another hat eventually, as I promised, but only as long as he shoots his gun responsibly!"

" Is that so...." Aguni mutters, and just kind of nods like a sort of proud dad.

Hatter grins even wider, and claps Sakurada across the back. " Now that's some courage! Hey, what say you, would you like one of Niragi's pancakes? As a sign of strength!"

" What?!" Niragi shouts, and he stands up, slamming the table. Aguni watches him quietly, as does Last Boss, the latter just staring more than a tired gaze like Aguni was sporting at the moment. " You can't do that!"

" But I can! I'm the leader after all, I can say what I want, and what I want is practically law here, Niragi. Remember who your boss is." Hatter smiles at Niragi in that sort of way that Niragi hated, but a firm tap on his arm by Aguni made him relent, Niragi angrily muttering to himself as he sat back down.

" Ah, thank you very much, but I don't need to take his-"

" Nonsense, you deserve it! Besides, Niragi already gets... how many?"

" Well I had four, but apparently not anymore."

" Three is plenty for you! Anyways, so that means you get two pancakes, you funky little ball of glory!" Hatter states.

" Are you sure? Is that alright with you Niragi?" Sakurada looks to the man, Niragi just grumbling some more.

" Don't worry about him, he'll get over it." Chishiya mentions, and Niragi quickly glares at him, Chishiya casually looking back with that damn smug ass smile on his lips.

" Fucking undercooked egg white." Niragi mutters under his breath, Chishiya just continuing to smirk.

Still, the pancakes arrive to their table, Hatter inviting Sakurada to sit with them for the day so he could talk about fashion, mainly about what kinds of hats the other liked, Sakurada easily falling into conversation with him. Niragi just drowns his now three pancakes in maple sauce, grumbling under his breath.

Last Boss was watching Niragi just nearby, eating his single pancake as Cabot got to treat herself to two whole cat-specified pancakes like she deserved, and goes to whisper to his cat, Cabot flicking her tail a little at whatever Last Boss muttered.

" You have a very nice cat there! It must be enjoying everything since it appears to be very well cared for and happy." Sakurada mentions at one point, Last Boss staring at Sakurada silently. Sakurada just politely smiles back, and Last Boss just slowly blinks, then nods.

" Thank.... you." Last Boss says, and Cabot looks up finally, and bumps her body against Last Boss, the man quietly petting her as Sakurada watches with a happy expression at how sweet the sight was. Sakurada makes small clicking nosies in an attempt to beckon the cat over to him, Cabot meowing and wandering over curiously, sniffing at Sakurada's fingers before letting herself get pet by the man softly. " She seems to like me already!" Sakurada says happily, Last Boss slowly nodding.

" That's good. She likes being pet gently." Last Boss mutters, and even Hatter tried to get in on the cat patting session.

" Hey Niragi." Chishiya's voice catches Niragi's attention, and he looks up at him, already despising of what he was about to spew out from his lips. The limestone fox man just smiles at him, pancakes already gone from his plate.

" The fuck do you want now."

" Your clone is actually way better than you. Perhaps even smarter than whatever half brain you have up there." Chishiya remarks, and with that he stands up and walks away from the table, immediately sliding himself into a group of people leaving and disappearing from his sight.

" YOU LITTLE FUC-" He whips out his gun, ready to chase Chishiya down and kill him like he always wanted to.

Water gets immediately sprayed on his face the second he stands up again, Niragi sputtering. " No. Bad Niragi."

#aib #alice in borderland #aib fanfic #alice in borderland fanfic #niragi suguru #sakurada dori #last boss #takatora samura #hatter #takeru danma #morizono aguni #chishiya shuntaro #last boss deserves a cat #sakurada got more pancakes just by existing #again i attempted to put in everything you said #treat niragi like a misbehaving cat they said #it'll be fine they said #cabot got her two pancakes like she deserves #chishiya is a magic pancake eater now #cabot bonding with everyone while last boss chills in the background #also hatter would totally ask for a podium just to announce Pancake Day #it's for the dramatics #and look at hatter #he got his extra bequeathed month pancakes from the will!

[lov3nerdstuff]

Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 6.6}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student, blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 4.7k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

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"Why again do you have to get up this early on a bloody Saturday?" Jorien groaned quietly from her spot hidden under the covers in her bed, while Cas was still sleeping soundly as ever in her own. It wasn't even dawning yet, still hours until breakfast, but Robin had been up for a while already and was just now returning from getting ready in the bathroom.

"I told you, I'm going on a field trip for my research." Robin whispered back, while she got dressed in some slim fitting black jeans that were comfortable enough to move in and sturdy enough to suit the occasion. "We need to get going before the sun is up."

"You're crazy." Jorien groaned again and dug her head into her pillow, face down. "Hwow gih juh gweh hwiwh gu gwu gwif whih juh?"

"What?" Robin hissed back with a questioning frown, while she layered her favorite jumper over a long sleeved shirt and then went to put her hair up into a ponytail that ended up more messy than neat.

Jorien turned her head back to the side with a sigh. "How did you get him to do this with you?" She repeated her question tiredly, but with a spark of sincere curiosity nonetheless. "Snape, I mean."

"I didn't get him to do anything." Robin shrugged in return and sat down on her bed to lace up her boots. "I did a lot of research over the summer and I showed it to him last week. He made me show it to Dumbledore and that settled the issue."

"So it's just you and him today, huh?"

"Yeah."

"I would say poor you, but I get the impression that you are rather happy about it."

"I am. He is the only one who understands what we're dealing with; it would be a true nuisance to have to explain it all to someone else." Robin replied easily as she finally went to put on her rain jacket instead of her robes for once. The highlands were no place for a cloud of fabric that would soak through in under a minute. Then she hid her wand up her sleeve as always, and finally grabbed her backpack from the end of her bed. All set to go. "Wish me luck!"

"What do you need luck for?" Jorien yawned and hugged her pillow under her head. "I thought you guys know what you're doing."

"Obviously we know that we're going." Robin rolled her eyes with a smile. "But we're doing this entire thing to prove a theory, which means that there is a chance that I was wrong and we won't find what we're looking for."

"Alright… good luck then." The girl yawned again, and closed her eyes with a sigh. "Am glad that Snape is there to bring you back in one piece. McGonagall says you're a magnet for trouble and the obscure."

"Does she now?" Robin's lips quirked into a smirk, but she could tell that Jorien was already falling back asleep. She didn't want to seize any more of her sleep though, and thus she finally made for the door, leaving a few minutes earlier than planned. Oh well... One didn't leave adventure waiting.

… … …

Robin met Snape at the bottom of the spiral staircase that led out of the dungeons. He was wearing different robes than usual, warmer ones, and Robin found herself glad that she wasn't the only one who had planned for a long day out in the cold. They greeted each other with a silent gaze that said enough, then made their way through the empty hallways and out into the courtyard.

The very second Robin stepped out into the open, she realized that it had been a good idea to wear her jacket and not the robes. It wasn't raining yet, but the air smelled of water, soil and electricity in a way that went beyond the morning dew, and the grey sky waiting for the break of dawn was an envoy no less of the impending storm. She breathed in deeply, and had to smile. This was the best birthday present ever.

They had to leave the school grounds in order to apparate to their first destination of the day, and thus they didn't waste any time to make their way down the path to wander beyond the gates. Still, neither spoke a word, and neither did they have to. The serenity of the morning was too calm, too peaceful to disturb with any words spoken in redundancy. They would have all day to chat if they fancied to; why waste words when the silence was enough for now?

It had all been discussed in advance anyway; both Thursday and Friday night, they had sat over Robin's documentations and discussed their options for which plant they should try to find, and thus which theory to prove. They obviously had been limited to the British isles for reasons of time and distance, and also to the acquisition of a plant on Dumbledore's wish. That, and some ambition on Robin's part, had led to their current target and thus their plan of action: they would try to find wraiths' moss today. And ambitious that was indeed, but Robin felt like she had something to prove; to Snape, to Dumbledore and mostly to herself.

It didn't take them long to get away from the castle, to a place beyond the gates where they finally stopped in their track. There was no need to haste, they still had enough time before sunrise. But as they had discovered on multiple occasions, they both preferred being too early over being too late in situations that actually mattered.

This time when Snape held his hand out to Robin, she didn't hesitate to take it. She might be old enough to legally apparate by herself now, but she still had to wait until after the Christmas break to take the twelve week class to get her license to do so, to officially learn to do so. Until then, she would gladly enjoy the privilege of holding his hand for the fleeting moment of traveling. However, even now, she had to painfully remind herself to refrain from lacing their fingers together, a gesture way too intimate to be anywhere near appropriate, and yet one that most of her being was trying to urge her into anyway. But she did hold on tightly, for safety reasons, and was barely able to catch the not-smirk on his lips before the world was torn into a swirling storm of colors and strange sensations.

When Robin's eyes went into focus again, she found herself overlooking the vast sea, and to her great luck a whipping wind blew away most of her nausea after a few seconds of struggling to stay standing upright. She let out a groan as she closed her eyes for a moment, willing away the churning of her stomach while she focused on taking deep breaths. Then she looked back ahead.

They were standing high up on the edge of a cliff, over three hundred meters above the furious black waters that were relentlessly crashing against the solid rock below. The vastly desolate grassland behind their backs was but an illusion of peace in contrast to the ragged and riven stone wall that dropped in a straight vertical a mere two steps ahead. The Scottish east coast; their first destination.

As soon as the dizziness was gone to the point where she didn't feel like she would break down any second, Robin let go of Snape's hand with a silent sigh. The few seconds of having his skin touching hers had once again sufficed to leave her entire self consumed by ridiculous rushes of energy and tingles, but she pushed it to the back of her mind for now in order to do her work. That's what they were here for, after all, to gather the petals of a Haramith flower.

Haramith itself was a plant rather useless for potion making, and thus generally not something anyone would have in stock, but it was essential for Robin's theory on how to find the wraiths' moss. Getting the petals was only step one of many on the road Robin had built in theory to acquire one of the rarest mosses in this part of the world, and now with every step they followed through with successfully, they paved a bit more of that theoretical road into reality.

The good thing about Haramith was that it grew in many places, wildy sprawling on even the poorest soil, and thus it generally wasn't too hard to find. The bad thing however, and the very reason why Snape and Robin had come to a desolate cliff on the eastern shore of the country before sunrise, was that Haramith only blossomed for one single minute of the day. It grew its petals when the sun rose over the horizon, no matter if a single ray of sunshine even graced the earth that day or not, only to lose the petals again after exactly one minute. And when the petals died, they faded into dust within seconds. Which, precisely, was what made it nigh impossible to gather them if one didn't come prepared, which in this case meant knowing exactly when the sun would peek over the horizon. And where better to be precise about that than on the shore?

Robin moved along the very edge of the cliff, looking down the stone wall in search for any specimen of the desired plant she would be able to reach when the sun would rise in approximately two minutes. Due to their sun oriented nature, Haramith flowers were prone to grow on walls like this that were open to the east; at least that's what Robin had read. Indeed, it didn't take her long to find a small patch of green between the ragged stone, but it was further down the wall than she was able to reach. However luck was on her side for once.

"There's a ledge a bit further down the wall." Robin said, looking back over her shoulder at Snape while she took off her backpack and set it down at a good distance to the edge. "We don't have much time left, and there's plenty of Haramith down there. I'm going."

For a moment Snape looked like he wanted to protest, a deep frown settling on his face, but then he moved to stand next to Robin instead of voicing a complaint and glanced down the wall for a second before his eyes were back on her. "Be careful, yes?"

Robin nodded with a small smile, then sat down with her legs dangling over the edge and finally pushed herself over entirely. It really wasn't a far drop, she landed on her feet without any effort and crouched down immediately to keep her weight close to the wall and her body's centre of gravity as low as possible. She wasn't an expert in rock climbing, but she had read about it at some point and she usually remembered what she had read. That really came in handy at times.

Just in the moment she reached out to touch the Haramith, the small flowers beneath her fingertips started to stir. Her eyes widened immediately, and she couldn't help the small smile that fell onto her lips when tiny beads of bright ultramarine started to blossom out of the greyish green stems. It was a beautiful sight, watching them grow and gain in size while never losing their delicacy. After but a moment they were at their final but oh so fleeting state, and Robin almost felt sad to pluck out the petals. But they would grow new ones tomorrow morning, and every day after that as well, so it was more gain to her than loss to them.

Carefully, she placed the fragile objects in a vial she pulled out of her pocket, gathering quite as many petals as she could before all too soon, the remaining ones turned into dust right beneath her fingertips. The ones she had collected however remained perfectly intact, their bright ultramarine piercing her eyes in contrast to her ashen skin as she closed the vial at last and put it back into her pocket. Good… now she just needed to get back up the cliff somehow.

An idea entered her mind, a stupid idea, and she pulled her wand out of her sleeve before she could think better of it, pointed it upwards and closed her eyes for a second in a silent prayer to whoever was listening. Then a wordless ascendio sent her upwards, lifting her over the edge of the cliff and unfortunately even higher, which made the landing quite unpleasant, as she came crashing down onto the grass with a dull thud.

"Bloody hell, I've always hated that charm…" She grumbled to herself, sitting up on the ground with a quiet groan as she rubbed her hurting limbs.

"You could have asked me to help you, you know…" Snape quirked an eyebrow at her, mildly amused by the sight in front of him.

"And you would have done so without mocking me for the next few hours? Doubt it." Robin replied with a small snort, and still let him help her up to her feet the next moment. "I've got the petals, plenty of them even."

"Good." He mused with a not-smirk, observing how Robin dusted off her jeans. "Shall we proceed to the next destination then?"

"Yeah, just… give me a second to breathe between jumping down a cliffside, flying through the air and crashing down on the ground, before apparating again." She sighed, then went to pick up her backpack to throw it back over her shoulders. "Next time, you can do all that and I'll stand up here and watch."

"Professor's privilege. I get to let others do the… unpleasant work." He shrugged with a real smirk now. "However it isn't nearly as entertaining to watch the dunderheads as it is to observe you."

"I don't know if I should feel offended or flattered by that." Robin laughed and shook her head to herself, biting her bottom lip as she had to grin at her own thought. "It certainly is more flattering than what Alexander said to me on Thursday."

"You are aware that I could push you off this cliff in an instant for comparing me to that imbecile, yes?"

"And you're aware that you would be terribly bored without me." Robin quirked an eyebrow at him with a smirk. "Besides, there are four people at least who would most likely come at you if you pushed me off that cliff."

"They obviously do not know you half as well as I do if they would seriously hold it against me." He replied in an instant, and Robin's jaw dropped, a second before she had to laugh. Alright, perhaps he had won that round… which only meant she had to switch the game.

"Fine, do it then." She shrugged with a daring expression, showing but exaggerated casualness as she made calculated steps backwards, blindly nearing the drop with every word while her eyes stayed on his. "I'll even make it easier for you, if you want to get rid of me quite so desperately that-..."

His hand was around her wrist in an instant, pulling her away from the edge while he shot her a glare that was both warning and plea to stop. They both knew that they had walked the line between tease and seriousness too far; it was time to stop, time to return from the place they had gotten themselves into.

"Sorry." Robin was the first to speak, in a whisper only, as she stood a mere step in front of him now. She gave him a sad half smile, but didn't miss the fact that he was still holding onto her wrist as if he was actually afraid she would jump over the edge if he let go. "Sometimes I just…"

"I know." He replied almost calmly, without a trace of actual anger. "But you are right. I would indeed be terribly bored without you."

Robin's smile lost its sadness in an instant, but her heart gained a fullness and warmth instead that made it beat so strongly, she was sure he must've heard it. Still, she would spare him any teases in return for once; if he was being sincere, she would be too. "Good. I would've hated to be the only one who would miss this."

For once he did smile too, a little at least, and he still held onto her wrist, consciously or not. "Are you ready to proceed to the next destination now?"

Robin nodded, upon which he moved his hand from her wrist down to hold hers again, making her heart flutter even more at the deliberately slow touch. But instead of focusing on it, she closed her eyes and prepared for the oddness of apparating, with a frown on her face in anticipation of the discomfort that would soon follow.

"I very likely should not be telling you this before you pass the according class..." He sighed, and Robin quirked an eyebrow but kept her eyes closed nonetheless. "But there are a few things you can do to make the process of apparating less… unpleasant."

"Enlighten me."

"Release the tension in your body, and try to keep it at that state. Clear your mind but for the place you wish to go." He ordered, and Robin tried to focus on relaxing every muscle but the ones in her hand that were needed to hold onto his. "Breathe in deeply, then out again and hold your breath. Keep your eyes closed."

She did as she was told, and an instant later she felt the strange pulling and pushing sensation around her again, the swirling in her mind however was a lot milder already, and the cramping of her stomach barely even there. Before she knew, her feet were on solid ground again, and while her head was very mildly spinning, she didn't feel sick at all when she opened her eyes. Her lips curled into a wide smile.

"I actually didn't experience the discomfort! That's incredible!" Robin beamed up at Snape, who in return rolled his eyes with a not-smirk.

"Bold of you to doubt me." He replied, and this time it was him who let go of Robin's hand first. Not in a haste, but rather because it was the right thing to do. "However I still do hope that this was the second to last time we apparate today."

"Since it doesn't make me feel sick anymore, I actually don't mind it quite as much." She grinned back at him, and only then at last she took the time to look around.

They were standing in the open space of a valley in the middle of the highlands, precisely where they had planned to go. Hills, mountains, stone and green, topped off only by the low hanging grey clouds that came down almost as a shallow mist. Perfect. If it hadn't been for their mission, Robin could've stayed here for hours to drink in the overwhelming beauty of nature. But they had work to do.

"Since you were so keen on helping me earlier, why don't you work the tracing spell now?" Robin quirked an eyebrow at Snape, of course with the ever teasing smirk still playing on her lips, while she took a step away from him to take off her backpack.

"You are insufferable." He rolled his eyes in return, but still took the handbook out of Robin's hand when she held it out to him. "But if you cannot do even this simplest of spells by yourself…"

"You bloody well know I can." She replied with an easy smile; she also knew for a fact that he was just trying to mess with her. But he wouldn't succeed this time.

Without letting his teasing distract her in the slightest, Robin summoned a larger jar which they had prepared in advance last night out of her backpack. Four out of five ingredients for the tracing spell were already inside, perfectly measured of course, and when Robin crouched down to place the whole thing on the ground, she pulled the Haramith petals out of her pocket to add the fifth at last.

"Do you think I can add all of them?" She asked on a whim though, with an inquiring look up at Snape. "I mean… Do you think the measurement of the Haramith even has any impact on the results in this case? I did calculate a specific amount, but measuring it would be such a hassle out here. And now that I think about it, I see no reason why a precise measurement would be necessary in this case. What do you think?"

"It is your tracing spell and your preparation; why are you asking me?"

"Well sorry, but last time I checked you were the potions master." Robin rolled her eyes at him, even if the gesture felt a little silly while kneeling on the ground and looking up at him like that. "Besides, I wasn't asking because you would know any better than me, but because I care about your opinion. But I could also stay sitting on the cold ground to measure the damn thing, if you'd prefer that."

"I believe you could add the entire Haramith without any negative impact."

"Thank you! Was that really so hard?" Robin replied with a smile, before she carefully shook out the petals from the vial into the larger jar. Measuring the flimsy little things would have taken ages indeed, and the knees of her jeans were sodden already.

Without wasting time, she then went ahead to shred all ingredients into tiny pieces until they were a mere blended dust of the same piercing ultramarine as the Haramith itself. So far so good. Before she handed the jar with the mixture to Snape however, she filled a small amount of the dust into the now empty vial, closing it up tightly before she sorted it into a shelf inside her backpack. When she rose to her feet again, Snape shot her a questioning look while she handed him the jar at last.

"I just thought in case this actually works, or even in case it doesn't, it would be nice to have a reference for the next time either way." She shrugged, holding onto the straps of her backpack that she'd placed back over her shoulders. "There's always something to improve on, you know…"

He quirked an eyebrow at her with a not-smirk, holding her gaze for a moment before he finally placed the jar on a rock next to him, then flipped her book open at the marked page that described the tracing spell. It was an uncommon charm, woven together quite messily at the first glance, but it was the best one Robin had found. Snape made quick work of it, speaking the foreign words so easily as if for the millionth time, and Robin couldn't help being mesmerized by the bright blue dust that rose up into the air in a faint line upon the sound of his voice. It was working… bloody hell, it was actually working!

Robin followed the line in the sky with her eyes up to the point where it faded in the distance, then she looked back to Snape with an excited smile. "Ready for a little walk?"

"I am right behind you."

… … …

Walking they did then, following the blue line that faded behind them only to grow longer in front of them in return. Wherever it was leading, their destination was further away than anticipated. After three hours of scrambling through the sheer endless grass and rock, it finally started to rain as if the skies had turned into a waterfall, and they decided to take a break under a small ledge. It wasn't much, but the driest space they had been able to find before hell broke loose. To Robin's great luck, the tracing spell seemed to be entirely unbothered by the train, as the powdery line still remained hanging in the air as clear and smoky as ever. But what use would its persistence be if water in their eyes made it impossible to follow? Even more impossible without getting hurt out there. Thus a break it was, to wait for the worst to pass. It shouldn't take more than a few minutes… the weather in Scotland never stayed the same for long.

The long walk had taken a toll on both of them already, as neither was used to this kind of exercise, but Robin was too determined to see this through, too stubborn to admit that she was exhausted, and she assumed Snape simply was too proud to. It didn't matter either way, she was only glad to be sitting on the insulated blanket that she'd placed on the ground now, and Snape seemed to be equally appreciating of it as he sat next to her with a more or less content expression. Robin still couldn't quite believe that he was actually putting up with all this for her theory. Perhaps even for her as a person. And he seemed to be enjoying himself even!

Sighing quietly in contentment, Robin leaned back against the cold stones behind her and watched the rain. Yes, she was enjoying this. More than she could put into any words.

"I would like to think that the sound of the rain is the universe applauding us." She said instead, with a small smile at the wall of water before she looked over at Snape next to her. "Rain is so full of life, I don't know why people won't appreciate it more."

"Most people see the world differently than you do."

"What about you? Do you see it differently?"

"I used to believe it to be a terribly unfair place. Cold and cruel and indifferent to those who live in it."

Robin's heart squeezed together in a stab of sadness. She hadn't meant to upset him… but the longer she observed his expression, the more she got the impression that he was still calm and content as before. Curious. "You used to believe that? And… what do you believe now?"

"I don't know. The world will always be indifferent to us, but I am not so certain I still stand behind the rest of it."

"Well, it certainly is cold now… With the rain and wind and all that." Robin mused with a small smile, giving him a look that hopefully conveyed lighthearted humor better than her words did. Indeed, a hint of a smile graced his lips in return, and she decided to go on. "But when I think of the laboratory, for example… a crackling red in the fireplace, mixing with the faint bubbling of whatever potion we're making that day and the sound of your voice when you're annoyed with me, but also a silence made of softest velvet. It smells like coffee and books and fire and stone and all the subtle nuances in the potions' fumes. We sit at the table and wait and read and drink coffee and talk, until the next step has to be taken. When I think of that… the world, to me, is nothing but warmth."

A moment of silence followed upon her words, a thoughtful and contemplating silence, which was only broken when the rain lessened and Snape replied at last. "Perhaps you are what renders it warm."

It? The lab? The world? Her own perception? "Perhaps." She replied. Perhaps, his world as well. She shook the thought out of her head as soon as it appeared. Wrong direction to go into, and the wrong time to do so as well. They were here to work. Not to dwell on impossibilities.

_____________________________

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[bi-robins-club]

jason had just settled onto his couch with a jane austen novel and his favourite peach iced tea when damian crept in through his window. he sighed internally and decided to simply ignore him. he had told damian to use the front door (nevermind the fact that jason rarely used the door) and more importantly? he was freaking comfortable. after a few minutes as jason flipped idly through the book, damian cleared his throat. jason sighed again, outwardly this time and reluctantly dragged his eyes up to his youngest brother. baby bat was shivering slightly from the rain outside and jason simply rasied an eyebrow as he sipped at his tea. scowling, dami stomped over to jasons bathroom to dry off. he rolled his eyes. how dramatic. damian was acting like he sentenced titus and alfred the cat to their deaths instead of how he was actually saving jason from deep cleaning his rain soaked carpet. (he was still going to deep clean the carpet the next time he tidied up but still)

when damian stalked back into the room, looking less like a wet, angry kitten and more like a dry, angry kitten, jason titled his head back and established eye contact.

"so what brings you over to my neck of the woods, demon spawn?"

instead of snapping back like jason expected, damian simply stood there looking extremely uncomfortable. he shuffled his feet, opened his mouth then closed it and sat next to jason on the couch he splurged way too much on.

"i don't know how to tell you this" dami began, hesitant "but i believe harper is experiencing thoughts of suicide"

jason jerked up, almost knocking over his tea (and what a damn waste that would be) before fixing damian with a look. he hadnt noticed anything different in roy lately but he knew more than anyone that depression acted strangely and was hard to pinpoint. his mind raced with thoughts of why roy might be suddenly suicidal, from a sudden relapse to not getting a happy meal toy included in his 3.99 box of clogged arteries. "why do you say that, damian?"

"i have been keeping an eye on his health since he became a close confidant to you and last night he said something worrying that i am still not able to parse the meaning of" jason smiled lightly at that, in damian speak he was basically declaring that he cared for roy- if for nothing else than for how happy he made jason. still he shook it off and asked what roy had said that was worrying dami.

"he was patrolling last night" jason knew that. roy had been picking up his patrols since jason had a nasty leg wound. it was the reason he wasn't out tonight. "and he was on the phone with an unknown person, though i am inclined to believe it was either Starfire or Canary" okay, still not surprising "and then he said that the only place he could die happy was between your thighs" oh hello blue screen. yes jasons mind was in the middle of rebooting but could you hurry it along? he almost missed what damian said next. "not only does he wish for death upon himself, he wishes for you to give it to him!"

"damian" jason managed, frantically trying to figure out a way to explain to his baby brother without including his sex life. "uhh its just an expression"

damians face brightened up slightly. "really? he does not wish to smother himself between your thighs?"

"yeah, its like...like just a way to say... mind your business? mmhmm" he struggled to get out, pulling an explanation out of his ass.

"you have told father to mind his business a thousand times but i dont recal you ever using that one. is it new?"

oh god. jason would rather die again than continue this conversation.

"uhh its only used if you're close to someone" jason didnt know what he didnt wrong but dami's eyes widened in clear worry. "i thought you and father were reconnecting? has something happened? are you fighting again?"

well shit. jason had not thought this one through. fuck roy and fuck his mile wide kink that centered around jasons thighs. he was going to kill him. and he wouldnt even use his thighs. "oh nonono dami we're fine, just not as close as me and roy" he hedged, pleading to gods he didnt believe in to stop this conversation with whatever means necessary. strike him dead if need be but *please*. damians eyes narrowed "and exactly how close are you with harper, jason?" jason stared in disbelief. how had his nice relaxing evening turned into such a shitshow? damian was fine with roy when he and jason were just friends but now that he was (correctly) assuming a relationship, his over protective instincts were kicking in? christ. he remembered how when dick and babs finally started dating (again), damian seemingly lost all respect for her and called her an evil harlot more than once.

thankfully he was saved by answering in the form of the best person jason had ever met aka duke thomas. he announced his presence by awkwardly coughing. jason met his dark eyes and mouthed 'help me' over damians head. duke smiled as if it was getting pulled out of him by torture but nodded.

"hey dames, dick wanted you to join him by the docks when you finished up here" damian scowled "cant you see i am clearly not finished yet"

"hah, well dick was facing up against scarecrow and i think he needed some back up but you know him"

"yes, he wont admit he needs help when he very clearly does" damian sighed "very well, ill go check on dick. you stay and question jason. " and with that damian clambered out the window and after he disappeared from sight, jason threw his head back to stare at his ceiling and groaned. duke laughed at him.

"hey daisy duke?" duke grumbled at the nickname and jason cracked a smile "how did you know i needed back up?" duke winced and ran a hand over his dreads. he made a face and jasons soul was slowly draining out of his body. "oh haha funny story" duke rocked back on his feet and faked laughed "damians com was still connected to the channel" jason froze.

"who was on the channel oh my god" duke smiled thinly and his hand paused on his head. "other than me? everyone." jason buried his head in his hands and let out a high pitched whine. duke consolingly rubbed his shoulder. this is why jason loved him. he hadn't even laughed at jason like tim, dick or steph would or started plotting death like damian started to. he and cass would just offer support. jasons favorite brother and sister right here folks. duke sat down beside him

"listen. i know what it's like to be outed when youre not ready and when i heard damian grilling you about roy, i thought i would help" jason turned and stared at his brother. duke was staring at his hands and avoiding eye contact. "i got caught with a boy when i was 15 in high school. its pretty shitty to be gay and poor in a homophobic neighbourhood but its worse to be gay, poor and black." jason knocked shoulders with him. "if you tell me the name of whatever asshat outed you, I'll shoot him for you." duke let out a waterly laugh. "they kept bullying me for being gay but if they even listened, they would have realised that im pan" he joked "its a completely different thing after all". jason snorted

"that was horrible"

duke winced "yeah, it was wasnt it. im bad at this" it was jasons turn to avoid eye contact now.

"talia once caught me with a league operative. a male operative. i was so paranoid for days until i caught shiva leaving her rooms. i got the courage to tell her i was bi and she just patted my cheek and asked how my training was going."

duke huffed out a laugh. "bruce gives you shit but i for one think your lesbians moms are cool"

jason laughed with him "just wait until you meet Ducra. shes a badass"

"ducra?" he questioned with a weird look. "how many moms do you actually have? i knew about diana and your assassin moms but thats a new name" jason burst into laughter at the expression on dukes face. "its not fair man. steph is the only other one with a mom and you have four! you need to share" jason choked on his laughter and shoved duke.

"first of all, its only *three*. ducra is like my badass abuela"

"dont you already have a badass grandma? have you forgotten about Ma Gunn? she threatened to shoot bruce in the dick last week!"

"yes well excuse you i need strong female role models in my life, fuck you" the two of them continued to joke around for a little while longer before jason caught a flash of black kelvar outside his window and sighed. duke followed his eyes and smiled before patting jasons shoulder and pushing off. "have fun with the one strong male role model in your life. im going to see if cass needs help" both of them knew that cass wouldn't need help but jason accepted the excuse for what it was. "me and steph are still coming over to study tomorrow. college is kicking my ass and i need you to explain this English assignment to me"

jason scoffed "im not writing your essay for you"

"eh worth a try. bye jace" duke gave a two fingered salute and slipped out the window. jason took the brief reprieve to sip his tea and mourned when he discovered the ice had melted and watered down the peach taste. for the third time that night, someone crept into his window. oh well. third times the charm right? jason wasn't going to acknowledge bruce until he said something himself. it was a repeat of damian. jasom read his book as it got increasingly uncomfortable.

"jason."

"bruce" jason drawled, not lifting his eyes from his book. bruce grunted like the neanderthal he was and jason finally huffed out a heaving breath before marking his page and looking up. bruce looked supremely uncomfortable. actually his face looked exceedingly neutral but jason knew how to read bruce and that was the brow furrow of how do i deal with jason without fucking it up? jason was well famailairsed with that one.

"you know i love you" jasons own eyebrows rose. bruce only said 'i love you' like four times a year tops. and he usually never wasted it on jason. bruce deflated at whatever face jason must have made. goddamn it. this was why jason always fought with bruce with his helmet on, he couldnt control his facial expressions for shit. "no you dont know that." bruce smiled thinly and to jasons suprise, quickly crossed the room and knelt, placing his hands on jasons shoulders.

"even if you dont believe it, and its my own fault that you do and i hate that i ever caused you to even doubt my love for you, i swear that i do, jay lad" jason was completely frozen. he had expected bruce to yell at him for letting roy go unchecked on patrol last night and how irresponsible he was yada yada, not this declaration of feelings that he had no clue how to deal with. he couldnt remember the last time bruce called him that. it had to have been when he was still in those scaly green panties and pixie boots. and not the adult verison that jason picked up from a halloween store on a whim just to see roys eyes.

bruce sighed and drew jason into a hug. when bruces shoulder started getting wet, jason was horrified to realise he was crying. "i wanted you to know that i wouldnt love you any less for loving a man. but you have to know that i love you in the first place for that to happen" bruce said self deprecating.

"shut the fuck up" jason said sniffling and gripping his dads back. "i hate you"

bruce laughed softly at him before pressing a kiss to the side of jasons head. "i want you to know that i expect roy-and you- over at dinner on sunday. i need to meet the man that stole my babys heart" he murmured. jason laughed wetly "youve already met roy, you just want to con me into actually coming to family dinner"

bruce smiled "that was before i knew you two were dating. roy needs to know what hes getting into" jason leaned back enough to stare into bruces eyes and weakly punched him in the chest "dont threaten my boyfriend. he refused to look at me for two weeks after t was done with him" bruce sighed longingly "its times like this when i remember what caused me to love talia in the first place."

"bruce!" the aforementioned man laughed and hugged jason tightly before stepping back a few steps. "Sunday dinner. you and roy. 8 pm." on a whim jason reached out and snagged bruces hand. "hey" he started, swallowing "you wanna stay for a while? we could watch a movie or something" bruces eyes softened and he nodded. "let me change out of the suit."

and if roy had crept in after patrol only to see jason napping on his dads chest to a shitty action movie playing in the background and took several pictures, well that bruces fault for not waking up when roy stumbled it. (nevermind the fact that bruce had every single one of those pictures saved on his phone) (nevermind the fact that after roy put his phone away, he was greeted to the sight of batman glaring at him as he twisted a batarang around his fingers. it was sorta ruined by the fact that jasons curls was hiding the lower half of his face but roy was still adequately terrified)

#jason todd #roy harper #jayroy #jayroyweekend2020 #jayroyweekend #day 2: pride #bruce wayne #damian wayne #duke thomas #this is self indulgent #this is self care #bruce is trying his hardest #and he is succeeding #i was listening to about love by marina and the diamonds #its so jayroy #its not mentioned but diana took jason to his first pride as robin #bc he told her and only her #talia and shiva took jason to his first pride after he was resurrected #damian will cut someone if they think dirty thoughts about his brothers #once he learns what dirty thoughts are #but kon is next #jason looks up to 20 female figures and only one male figure (its bruce) #(dont tell him)

[phantomato]

Uber

Nottmort (Tom Riddle/Nott Sr.), Modern Muggle AU, ~2k words

Thanks to @yletylyf for kicking around this idea! Tom drives an Uber in the Bay Area. Thoros & co need a ride.

—

Abraxas and Orion are bickering over luggage in the background when your Uber pulls up. Black, of course, so it’s a Mercedes that will smell a little too much like leather cleaner when you get in, but none of you have ever ridden in an UberX or, god forbid, an Uber Pool, and you’re not about to start.

Your colleagues—never forget, you are not friends, no matter how much time you spend with them—slide into the back seat before you can even begin to help load bags into the trunk. You’re left alone with the driver, and though he offers to help, you haven’t let yourself sink that low as to make this man pile all of your shit in his car while you sit around and watch. And anyway, it feels like the polite thing to do. More than Abraxas or Orion, you’ve been raised to be polite.

So you fold yourself into the front passenger seat, too kind to push the seat all the way back and give yourself the leg room you need even if Orion, behind you, is just 5’8 to your 6’3, and smile at the driver as he confirms your destination.

He’s pretty. You’ve been in a lot of Ubers and you’ve never seen a driver this pretty. Is that classist?, you wonder to yourself, remembering something you read in Vox the other day. Probably. Nevertheless, you’re taken by the curve of his mouth, the sweep of his dark hair, and you throw a smirk over your shoulder at Abraxas who you know must have also noticed.

“Traffic to SFO will be busy,” he says regretfully, and you roll your eyes. Orion refuses to take the early morning flights, unwilling to wake at 3 AM, and you’re always stuck with these long, miserable Uber rides down from the city to the airport. “And Terminal 2—right in the middle of it. There’s construction around those doors, if you haven’t been there—”

“We know,” Orion butts in rudely, shutting up your driver for the few minutes it takes to get out of your neighborhood.

You use those few minutes to swipe through your phone. Email—nothing important. Messages—you clear the notifications. Your Instagram is alight with people reposting the same infographic about voting rights and you make a mental note to kick some money to that non-profit that’s been all over Twitter lately. You close out apps and end up back at Uber, watching your car’s laggy progress through the San Francisco streets. Your driver’s name is Tom, the app informs you. It’s a nice name.

You clear the side streets and Tom offers amenities. “If you want any water, there are bottles in the cooler between the seats,” he calls back to Abraxas and Orion, “and mints in the cup holder. You can adjust the air conditioning if you like, and there’s a charging cable attached to the back of my seat if you need it. Would you like to choose any music?”

“No,” Abraxas says, and whether he means the music or the entire spiel doesn’t really matter, given his withering tone. You look back at him, trying to convey ‘Be nice’ with just your eyebrows, but Abraxas is fussing with his hair and ignoring you.

Tom’s one of the chipper ones, it turns out, because he takes the rejection in stride and shifts to the dreaded personal conversation. “What do you all do for a living?”

“Ah, we invest in companies, mostly start-ups,” you say, trying to avoid—

“Venture capitalists!” Tom guesses, and he’s right but you hate the term and its connotations. So what if you are all white men whose family money has bankrolled tech speculation? It’s what anyone with half a brain would do. You donate, you read the liberal news—at least, you think that’s true for all of you, though Orion was friends with that Republican mayoral candidate and Abraxas’ father sponsors that conservative think-tank and…

Ah, fuck. “Yeah, pretty much,” you agree, hating yourself.

Behind you, Orion digs his AirPods out of his pocket. You hear the snap of the magnetic lid as he closes himself off to the world. Abraxas is slouching, the hem of his third-favorite cashmere cardigan catching on the seat behind him, and you realize that you’re alone in this conversation.

Well, fuck it. If those two pricks are going to make you call the Uber, deal with the reimbursement paperwork, and sit in the front seat, you’re going to talk to the driver and make this car conversation as painful as possible for them.

As if reading your thoughts, Tom does the one thing that guarantees a terrible ride: he pitches his app idea.

“You know, I’m also a software developer,” he says, which is at least more promising than when someone isn’t, “and if I had the kind of funding that companies like yours provide, I would absolutely make this app.” He proceeds to describe something completely inane, the type of exclusive, niche social networking app that hasn’t had legs since before the Trump presidency and you would be content to let him drone on, to let Abraxas keep melting into his own seat and to let Orion channel his anger through a knee driven into the back of yours, but—

But for all that Tom’s idea is stupid, he has the energy of the best pitches you see. His energy is infectious. His eyes light up, he gestures with one hand, and when he stops to take a drink (one of those water bottles with a built-in straw, which you associate with joggers and your lamest employees but which does very different things to you when it’s Tom’s mouth wrapped around the top) you’re transfixed by the wet sheen over his chapped lips.

And so, yes, maybe it’s mostly lust, and maybe this is a sign that you need to download Grindr again, even if only to jerk off to the dick pics you’ll get, but you start to actually talk to him.

“There’s no future in niche social networks,” you say, halting Tom in his tracks. “There will always be new ones, don’t misunderstand me, but the broader landscape is saturated by the top names, and they’ll buy out their competitors if they need to. Perhaps you can topple Tumblr, but that’s not a path to profit. If you want to impact the social market, you need to pinpoint the novel interaction model that you want to offer and make yourself buyable.”

“Buyable,” Tom repeats, like he’s never been interrupted before. He probably hasn’t. The first rule of Ubering around the Bay Area or the Valley is to never engage the app pitches, and Orion has started kicking your seat for your transgression.

“Yes,” you enunciate. “You want to be bought out and brought in at a high level. The giant that eats you may or may not use your idea, but you’ll make a comfortable sum as a consolation prize.” You’ve helped companies through this before. You’re flying out to New York this week in part because one of your investments is considering purchase offers and you want to strategize in-person. The founder is dallying, sending emails about independence and integrity, and Orion will bully him into selling while you and Abraxas negotiate the best terms for the contract.

You can feel Tom’s eyes on you. Abraxas might be calling “Thoros…” from the back seat, and Orion might be attempting to annihilate you with his gaze alone, but you’re smiling at that handsome face behind the wheel and hoping for an accident on the 101.

Unfortunately, you make it through San Bruno without running into more than the usual level of traffic, and Tom’s pulling up to your terminal much sooner than you would like. Abraxas and Orion jump out of the car with uncharacteristic speed when it stops, Orion even moving to stand by the trunk in readiness to take his bags. You delay.

“Do you have a business card?” you ask, when it’s clear Tom’s waiting on you.

He fumbles to pull a wallet from his jeans. You can’t quite get a view of his ass as he does, but that doesn’t stop you from looking.

His card is bent at the corner, printed cheaply, and probably from his last job. You’re pretty sure that company doesn’t exist anymore. Tom taps the phone number. “I can be reached here,” he says smoothly, but his professionalism cracks when he adds, “by call or by… text.”

You know what sort of texts you’d like to receive from him.

Pulling out your own card case, you hand him your card. “Text me,” you say, your voice just this side of appropriate, “any time.”

Tom visibly swallows and jumps out of the car. You take your time getting up, and if your cashmere sweater—Margaret Howell, not that Elder Statesman piece of shit Abraxas is wearing—ends up in the footwell of Tom’s passenger seat, well, you’ll be back in SF next week, won’t you?

“Thanks for the ride, Tom,” you tell him as you take the handle of your luggage, letting your fingers brush his. “I enjoyed our conversation.”

“Yeah,” he nods, and you don’t care that Abraxas is snorting behind you, he’s been judging you this whole trip and he lost out on a hot guy’s number as a result. “It was…”

“Thoros,” you interrupt him before he can ramble and psych himself out. “My name is Thoros, and I really would like to hear from you.”

Tom looks at you then, and you see him pull together the same sureness that drew you into his initial pitch. “I’ll text you about the app.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” you say, meaning it.

—

Bonus:

“You know,” Abraxas drawls as you sit in the United club lounge, gesturing lazily with his overpriced airport Fiji water, “if you tip him too much it’s like you’re paying him for sex.”

Orion looks up from his phone then, removing one earbud for the first time since he put them in. “I’ve paid more for sex with less attractive men.”

“Welcome back,” you say, “I didn’t realize you had paid any attention.”

“Someone would need to not have eyes in order to miss how hot that Uber driver was,” he bites back, returning to his phone.

“Well, I’m tipping him extra anyway,” you announce, confirming Tom’s five-star rating. Should you write a review? Is that too much?

Abraxas, with a grumble, declares, “I’m telling Alecto not to approve this expense.”

—

Bonus bonus:

Your phone buzzes at the end of dinner, the celebratory affair to close the sale which someone had insisted must be at Lilia, even though Abraxas doesn’t eat carbs and you would have preferred to grab a slice at Scarr’s rather than haul out to Williamsburg, anyway.

It’s Tom. Of course it’s Tom—you’ve been texting all week, and between a few late-night flirtations and one very bald statement of interest, you’ve got a date set for when you’re back home. You’re going to Mensho Tokyo, since he lives in the Tenderloin and you live… vaguely around the Tenderloin, at least, you tell people you live there when you want to seem cooler, and Tom is the type of guy that makes you excited to stand in line for hours to get seats. You’re already thinking about whether you might put your arm around him while you’re waiting, and you unlock your phone to see what he’s saying now.

It’s a picture message.

A picture of Tom, wearing your Howell sweater and no pants and oh god oh fuck—

“Was that Uber driver’s dick?” Abraxas whispers, next to you, and you curse your luck. “Remind me to call the next Uber, Jesus Christ.”

#tom riddle #nott sr #nottmort #muggle au

[purplecatghostposts]

If you're still doing the song writing ask thing,,, could I ask for frenmy(or as others call it,, frenreylatta) with 1 or 24? 👉👈 Or just frenmy in general I will appreciate and holde whatever

CANNNN do!!

(Also I’m juuuust now realizing these are song titles I just saw one word and went ‘LETS WRITE A DRABBLE OFF OF THIS’ oops- uh enjoy either way!)

—

For better or for worse, Tommy isn’t always taken completely seriously.

Which is fine. Tommy can brush it off, he might have some “Childish Interests” but he’s a grown adult, he can take a hit or two.

(Tommy doesn’t know why anything has to regarded as childish when anyone can and should enjoy anything and not get shit for it but that’s a whole other can of worms).

But when Tommy says things like, “Grab a soda, it’ll help you see faster!” Nobody thinks twice about it. Which is good, because Tommy didn’t mean to say it at all. There’s certain things Tommy doesn’t like to talk about and his more ‘Inhuman’ attributes is one of them.

Son of “The G-Man” has a few perks after all.

The ability to make his eyes glow and see in the dark, the ability to create- both living and non living things, immortality and the ability to share it with something like a dog he created with his own two hands, and most of all, a connection to Time itself.

Tommy has all of these abilities under control, except for the very latter of the bunch. Because turning on and off your eyes like a flashlight is something he’s been doing as a kid; Immortality he was born with, sharing it came to him in his late twenties; and while difficult, Tommy now has a bit of a knack for creation; but Time? Time is something else entirely. It’s its own entity, and not even his father has much control over it.

And of course, with a difficult entity like Time, Tommy got saddled with the worst ability to have little control over. His father, G-Man, can freeze, suspend, and even travel through it. Tommy can see it, and Time shows him too much.

Tommy does not dream, he Sees. The branches of time are shown right before his eyes whether he likes it or not, and possibilities are laid out. Time is not set in stone- there’s millions of timelines and ways it could go- and when he sleeps, Tommy can see them.

There’s no physical way to stop it without fully mastering it, but Tommy has found that there’s a few things that can make it more pleasant or at the very least, bearable. Low stress or going to sleep happy and content means he usually sees happier timelines. Caffeine, for whatever reason, means that when he sees timelines, it’s at a speed where he doesn’t have to comprehend anything or have to see something he doesn’t want to see. So far, it’s the only two methods he knows, and since he can’t always control how stressful his situation is, Tommy turns to soda.

He means what he says. Soda helps him see faster. He’s just glad that he doesn’t have to explain it to Gordon. His inhuman attributes used to scare other kids off when he was younger, and he knows that Gordon is an adult like him and probably won’t run, but the fear runs deep and Tommy keeps his mouth shut.

Benrey knows, of course. He’s not human either, he understood. But even when Tommy has bad dreams, he doesn’t like to bother other people about it. They’re just dreams, he can handle them.

Until they get personal.

Tommy has been seeing dreams about how it could end for them in Black Mesa for days now, but his intake in soda means he doesn’t really process them. They pass by in a flash and Tommy wakes up and promptly forgets about whatever was shown to him.

But of course, his luck runs out.

Tommy’s leg bounces anxiously as he stares at the broken vending machine. Nothing but water- no caffeine. Water is good for survival- Gordon gulps it down greedily then gawks when Benrey eats the whole bottle in one bite making Tommy laugh- but it means Tommy’s at risk for bad visions. And with the stress of soldiers starting to come at them as well as aliens, he suspects that tonight will not end well.

There’s a tug at his sleeve. Tommy glances down to meet Benrey’s eyes, who studies him silently. He knows something’s up- of course he does- but Tommy smiles like there’s nothing to worry about. Benrey won’t confront him directly- not unless he’s certain it’s really bad- but he has a feeling that Benrey’s still going to try something in his own little way.

“Getting late.” Gordon comments, rubbing his eyes. “We should probably get some rest.”

“Baby Feetman wants a nap?” Benrey grins lazily. Gordon rolls his eyes in response, but doesn’t look all that annoyed. He’s more relaxed than usual, looking less like he’s a twig about to snap and more a river who’s just going with the flow. In fact, Tommy swears Gordon smiles for a second.

“Shut up, you got dark circles under your eyes. You could use it too.”

Benrey rolls his eyes. “Haven’t slept this entire time, don’t intent to start now.”

Both Tommy and Gordon’s attention snaps to him. Benrey almost shrinks under the spotlight, looking utterly confused. “Uh... Care to fill a bro in on what I said wrong..?”

“You haven’t slept?” Gordon’s voice raises.

“Benrey, that’s not good for your health!”

“Jeez fuck- I don’t need to sleep to live, guys.” Benrey cuts in. “Not like you guys. Besides, someone’s gotta keep watch so like, I don’t sleep. S’not a big deal.”

“Benrey, you- you told me that half of your energy to use your abilities comes from sleep.” Tommy says slowly.

“Yeah, and the other half is food. What of it?”

Gordon joins in. “We’ve gotten the bare scraps of food down here. You- you have to be running on empty.”

“Don’t worry about it, Bro-”

“No!” Both Tommy and Gordon shout simultaneously.

Benrey jumps, eyes darting between the two of them and rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh, this isn’t fair, you’re tag teaming me, I deserve someone on my team.”

Dr. Coomer pokes his head from around the corner, Bubby following. “Is something wrong? We heard some shouting!”

“Hey, Coomer, Bubs, you uh, you gotta back me up, they’re bullying me.” Benrey points accusingly at Tommy and Gordon respectively.

Bubby shrugs. “Just do what I did whenever someone bullied me.”

“Somehow I feel like this is going to be bad advice...” Gordon mumbles.

“Set them on fire.”

“Andddd I was right.”

Benrey pretends to consider it for a moment. Gordon rolls his eyes at him, earning a smile from Benrey. “But uh, these two keep yelling at me because I haven’t slept. Tell them to stop.”

Dr. Coomer frowns and Bubby narrows his eyes. Tommy snickers to himself, knowing Benrey isn’t winning this battle.

“You haven’t slept? What the hell do you think you’re doing? Fucking dumbass.”

“Benrey, sleep is an important function we all need to live!”

Benrey groans into his hands. Gordon grins cockily. “Hey, Bubby, Dr. Coomer, mind taking watch tonight while Tommy and I get Benrey to sleep?”

Bubby snorts like it’s obvious. Coomer smiles brightly and nods. “Of course! If anyone tries to come after you in your sleep, we’ll take care of them, if you know what I mean.” Coomer winks, then makes a punching gesture.

Gordon laughs at that. Tommy rather likes when Gordon laughs, his whole body moves with him. It’s wholehearted and genuine and if it were possible, Tommy would love to bottle it and keep it with him.

Tommy’s fully aware that he’s rather smitten with Gordon and Benrey. Benrey’s his best friend and Tommy is fine if it stayed that way, but he’s also felt a certain romantic fondness for him too. Benrey’s not easy to decipher but Tommy has learned he shows he cares in the subtle ways. How Benrey learns to read people and distracts them when they feel down. He’s done it to Tommy himself, and recently, he’s seen a very similar sentiment towards Gordon.

And Gordon wears his heart on his sleeve, which is endearing on its own. Tommy sees the way he acts around Benrey and around himself, and he can’t help but wonder if Gordon might feel the same way he does.

They find a place to camp out and before he knows it, Tommy has Gordon on one side and Benrey on the other. Despite lying on the concrete ground, Tommy doesn’t think he’s ever felt more comfortable in his life. Benrey’s curled up next to him and Gordon is lying on his side with an arm over him and Tommy feels himself get lulled to sleep. He doesn’t want to ever move again.

His dreams are not as kind as his situation. Because Tommy Sees all possible timelines, and one too many of them involve two of the people he cares about most in the world.

Benrey betrays Gordon and gets his hand get cut off. Gordon betrays Benrey and Benrey comes back not looking quite right. Gordon lets Benrey die, Benrey lets Gordon die, Benrey stands on an alien planet and attempts to kill everyone- does kill everyone. Gordon stands on an alien planet and sees Benrey being the thing they have to kill and he doesn’t hesitate.

They tear each other apart, no matter what Tommy says or does. And in a few timelines, their rage is directed towards him, and Tommy’s heart breaks into two.

“Tommy? Tommy, bro, c’mon, you gotta wake up.”

Benrey’s voice pulls him out of it. Tommy sits up, trembling and reaching out blindly. His vision is blurred and all attempts to speak come out as quiet sobs. A pair of hands grab onto his while a second gently touches his shoulder, grounding him to reality.

“Benrey?” It’s deathly quiet but it’s unmistakably Gordon’s. “Benrey- his eyes- is he okay? They’re- they’re gold-!”

“I know, dude, this happens sometimes, he’ll be okay.” Benrey responds, shockingly calm. “Tommy sees bad things sometimes when he goes to sleep and sometimes they’re overwhelming and this happens. Just... Trust me and follow my lead on this?”

A beat. Tommy tries to wipe his eyes but tears keep streaming down his face.

“Okay. I trust you.”

Tommy can’t see but he has a feeling Benrey is smiling a little at that.

Benrey and Gordon both begin to whisper reassurances and ask him what he can feel around him. They talk and talk and talk until eventually, Tommy can finally see them again and the anxiety in his chest is manageable.

“Thank you...” Tommy gives them a weak smile.

“Bad visions?” Benrey guesses. Gordon looks mildly confused but doesn’t ask questions. Tommy nods in response. “You... Wanna share or nah?”

Tommy’s gaze lowers. He sucks in a small breath. “It- it was a lot of bad timelines with you two. And I-...” He hesitated for just a minute but thinking of the timelines again made him push through it. “And I really care about both of you. A lot. In- in a platonic as well as a... A romantic way.”

Silence. Tommy swallowed thickly, not wanting to look at either of them and unsure if he made the wrong choice to tell them or not.

“Oh thank god, I’m not the only one.” Gordon blurted out. He let out a long breath, laughing softly. “I was- fuck, I was really struggling there.”

Benrey cracked a smile. “Cringe Gordon can’t deal with gay feelings? How embarrassing for you. Can’t believe I have gay thoughts for such a loser.” His eyes turn to Tommy and his smile grew. “I guess having gay thoughts for a really cool guy balances it out so it’s chill.”

Tommy couldn’t stop smiling. Was this really happening? Were they really all just on the same page? “R-really?”

Benrey shrugs. “‘M kinda surprised, thought I was obvious.”

“You’re not obvious with anything.” Gordon tells him, rolling his eyes but relaxing his shoulders.

“I...” Tommy let out a laugh. “I- I really care about you both! And- and after we get out of Black Mesa... I want us to stay this close.”

Benrey nodded. “‘Course we will. You’re some of my best bros and how else would I kiss you both goodnight like all bros should?”

Gordon snickered, then cleared his throat. “Hey uh... Have we all just been holding this in the entire time even though we all felt the same-!”

“YES.” Bubby screaming from across the room made all three jump in surprise. Bubby and Coomer were both sitting by the door, Bubby wrapped in Coomer’s arms but he still scowled at the three of them. “You’ve all been pining like a bunch of fucking idiots. Just ask a guy out by setting half a building on fire like a regular person!”

Tommy looked back at the other two and laughed to himself. Soon enough, the three of them were laying down again but this time, Tommy wrapped his arms around one each and held them close to him. In the morning, they could talk more about the three of them and their newly forming relationship, but for now, they deserved to rest.

Gordon’s head rested against Tommy’s shoulder while Benrey clung to him. Tommy felt his eyes get heavier and heavier but he wasn’t as afraid of getting a bad vision. Partly because he had two of the most important people in his life in his arms and he knew that those futures wouldn’t be his, but also partly because even if the visions did get to him, he had support when he woke up.

His own personal paradise. There was a light at the end of the tunnel and Tommy knew that by the end of this, he wanted both of them by his side and in his life for a long time.

—

I don’t know why this turned into a Tommy Lore/Angst Fest BUT hopefully it turned out alright! I hope you liked it! These three are veryyyy soft and it was sure fun to write! Feel free to send in another request if you want!

#hlvrai #half life vr but the ai is self aware #benrey #hlvrai gordon freeman #tommy coolatta #frenmy #frenreylatta #SB Writes #My Fic #My Drabble #Ask Meme #Ask Game