#I forgot my usual red and blue filter but whatever it still looks okay

[miammey]

This is late but happy birthday, Kenji!!!

#kind of a continuation of last year’s birthday art #he got a puppy as a gift rhen #side profiles are the bane of my existence #also I had no idea what to do with lighting so I just did my best #I forgot my usual red and blue filter but whatever it still looks okay #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd ada #armed detective agency #bsd kenji #miyazawa kenji

[votederpycausemufins]

College has stopped kicking my butt enough for me to post another chapter of the the Scattered au fic. this one is meant to be a parallel to last chapter, so you might want to reread that one.

scattered au is by @hermitcraftheadcanons and their community

reading tag list: still just @helleborusangel right now. Send an ask if you want to be added on.

Xisuma pulled himself out of the water, coughing a bit from what had gotten past his filter. He tried to look around only to squint at the light from the surface. He didn’t think he had swum that far up, but for all he knew, he was able to push himself that far to finally escape the warden. So when something suddenly attacked him and didn’t immediately kill him, Xisuma quickly fought back.

While initially swimming, he thought he had felt something though wasn’t sure, but this was much more clear. And slimelike, it seemed, since that’s what it felt like when he attacked it. But the following grunt of pain from the attacker sounded much more human like.

Xisuma did his best to focus on whatever was there, but he was seeing double. He looked back and forth, trying to tell if it was just from the intense lighting change or from there actually being two… things there. And it seemed it was the latter when the things looked at each other.

“Well, that’s probably not good.” The two things spoke in unison, which didn’t help the headache that Xisuma could feel coming on. Still, he was able to focus enough to get a good look at whatever was there and was a slime hybrid of sorts similar to Jevin, though instead of his very clearly blue slime, these two - one? They were more of a sea green. Plus from what Xisuma could guess, they were able to split like a regular slime, something Jevin couldn’t.

“Sorry.” Xisuma spoke up, it finally clicking in his mind that he had likely damaged them enough to make them split. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I thought you were attacking- I mean, maybe you were, but this does seem to be where you’re staying, so I guess I invaded your home a bit.”

“I guess. So, are you from around here?” The slime pair asked, making Xisuma shake his head. “Huh, neither am I… are we… This is the first time I’ve split so-”

Xisuma tilted his head a little. “I guess it is pretty safe here. Have you had any deaths so far?”

“I thought that was going to be my first.”

“So that would explain the lack of death messages as opposed to Gemini or Pearlescent. Do you know either of them?”

“No, sorry, not really.” The slime people answered. “Well, uh, there’s just enough here if you need basic tools, but not much else. I’ve got a pickaxe- crafting table.”

Xisuma looked between the two. “I think both would be nice. I spawned underground and had trouble with getting anything at all.” And before he could say more, the slime people were handing him those two items and a few more.

“You’re on your own for food though. Berries aren’t the most filling, so I’ve been eating them all up. They taste nice though.” And to prove their point, each of the slime people went after a berry, though they went after the same one and ended up fighting over it.

Xisuma nodded and went up to one of the walls. This would be much easier than getting the warden to do all his mining, seeing as how he would now be in control. He started to staircase out of the cave, placing what few torches he had until he found more coal. Technically he didn’t need to, but then something could spawn and head down and attack the slime pair. And Xisuma didn’t want to never return and just leave them there alone forever. So when he finally did get up to the surface, Xisuma went straight back down. “Are you sure you want to- er, what are you doing?”

The slime people looked back over to Xisuma and shrugged. “Trying to fuse back together or something. Why did you come back?”

Xisuma wasn’t sure exactly what happened, but the next thing he really knew, he was going back up towards the surface, his arms full from holding the slime pair, one cradled in each arm. Sure, they said they would be safe alone in the cave, but X couldn’t help the feeling that they wouldn’t be safe so far away. He was pretty sure it was just from his worry about everyone else, and this was just one person he could protect, but Xisuma couldn’t help but wonder if there was something else going on.

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Hypno leaned against Etho, who was doing surprisingly well considering their current situation. Both of them were low on hunger, only managing to stay alive from what little they could get from the flowers and grass they picked and ate. Etho somehow managed to find a pig wandering around and killed it for some raw pork, handing it to Hypno to eat. They couldn’t cook it, but Etho was less worried about the hunger the meat would satiate and more about the fact that Hypno wasn’t fully himself.

After the initial shock of finding horns on Hypno’s head, the pair looked him over. Hypno made mention of an ache at the base of his spine, and Etho found a few concerning bumps on Hypno’s upper back. Until they actively looked into it, Hypno hadn’t noticed anything wrong, which led to them checking Etho, and also giving the ninja something to plan for on his next respawns.

Etho was glad they didn’t notice much with him, but with little to do, he explained to Hypno his encounters with Ren, Impulse and Grian. Out of the three, Impulse had seemed the most normal, only having red eyes instead of the golden brown he usually sported. Ren had seemed fine at first, but then in the attack from the creeper, the shifter had killed Etho, acting like an attacked wolf. And then Grian for the most part had been acting like a bird, though near the end…

A moobloom trotted over, pulling Etho out of his thoughts. It nuzzled against Hypno, who happily reciprocated. Still worried about the other hermit and the effects the environment was having on him, Etho forcefully separated the two, needing to attack the animal to make it flee.

“What was that for Etho? It was just being friendly.”

“Right now, we need to be cautious of everything. Especially those cows and all the flowers around here. Because in case you forgot, growing horns like that is not normal. Plus, we could use the food right now.”

Hypno huffed. “We’ll use up more energy trying to kill it than we would get from anything it drops. It’s better to let us willingly help us than-”

Etho suddenly held up a finger to shush Hypno, letting them listen to the breeze. “Do you hear that?”

Hypno listened, only hearing a few moos from the nearby moobloom. “The cows?”

“Well, okay yeah. But it’s more what I’m not hearing.” And then Etho pulled out his communicator. Hypno watched as Etho stared at the screen, mask moving ever so slightly as he mouthed counting up. But nothing was happening. At first, Hypno didn’t get what was so important until he pulled out his own communicator. No death messages were coming in. Specifically none from Impulse.

“Impulse got out.” Hypno said, whispering in disbelief. “Someone must have found him.”

Etho nodded. “Yeah, but the question is who.” And then almost immediately, it was answered.

Zedaph was slain by impulseSV

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If there was one thing that was a benefit to respawning in the same place every time, it was the fact that no matter how many times Impulse died, the guardians wouldn’t disappear. Meaning that after a few attempts, he finally killed one of the monsters giving him grief. Just being able to slay one of them felt freeing with all the torment he was currently being put through, but that wasn’t the only benefit.

When the guardian died, it dropped two things, a prismarine shard and some cod. Impulse greedily grabbed at the items, stuffing the shard in his inventory and then stuffing the fish in his mouth. After not eating in so long, the fish seemed like the most heavenly food in the world, though Impulse had other ideas on why that was the case.

Here and there, guardians had completely ignored him. Sometimes he felt like he was getting a full breath of air even though he was still stuck in the water. He hadn’t missed the webbing between his fingers and toes growing each respawn nor the scales that appeared and itched like crazy. Half of Impulse would have preferred drowning forever instead of whatever this was, but his other half realized that it was likely his only way out.

Another respawn left him fumbling for his prismarine shard, using it to dig into the nearby blocks. Along with the claw-like nails he had gained, Impulse was able to break another block, making him smile at first, but then his expression dropped. With the way the temples were constructed, the walls weren’t that thick. Instead of gaining an air pocket, he had just broken into another chamber.

“Impulse.”

In anger, Impulse took the prismarine shard and used it against the next guardian he saw.

“Impulse.”

He started by using it like a knife and jamming it into the eye of the beast, making it flail and spread its spikes.

“Impulse.”

As the world around him seemed to fade into blues and golds, Impulse kept attacking, needing to get his anger out somehow.

“Impulse. Impulse. Impulse.” And then Impulse felt like he was falling, but he still thrashed around, trying to stop whatever it was. Then the next thing he knew, it was like gravity had increased drastically, leaving him pressed against the floor. Something moved and he attacked it, surprised to find it feeling much fluffier than the guardians had been. There was a sound, like someone talking, but why would anyone be talking with him stuck all alone. Etho maybe? Was he back?

As the creature died in his hands, Impulse looked towards the sound. The first thing he noticed was that Etho’s eyes were now both red. Even the sclera were red. He had also dyed his hair blond, and gotten rid of his mask, and well that wasn’t Etho at all. Impulse kicked his legs to try and swim closer, only to finally realize he wasn’t underwater anymore.

The moment Impulse realized he was out of the sea temple, he started taking gulps of air. His lungs had already started breathing it all, but now he was trying to get as much oxygen as he could before he drowned again. A part in the back of his mind told him he couldn’t drown right now, but his mental state wasn’t the best right now.

“Hey Impulse. Calming down now?” Tango was asking, and Impulse looked over, glad to see his friend. He nodded, which got Tango to smile before looking off towards the horizon. Impulse briefly followed Tango’s eyes before his hand moved and he felt the soft wool of the carpets beneath him. It almost felt overwhelming how different it was compared to the past week plus that he had been stuck in the temple. But it was also good, so he wrapped himself up before following Tango’s eyes once more.

“What’s that way?” Impulse spoke, voice feeling unfamiliar from disuse and possibly alterations that matched everything else going on with him.

“Zed. I’m hoping he’ll be able to find us again since I have made a bit of a path.”

Impulse tilted his head before noticing his inventory had many more items. “Did he get killed or something?”

“Yeah, you sort of killed him when we first summoned you in.” Tango explained, and Impulse felt horrified. Him? Kill Zedaph? For a prank or something, sure, that was believable, But this had been from pure bloodlust at the time.

“I killed him? Oh no! I didn’t know! It had been a guardian at first, and then I was falling, and then I was-”

“Hey, calm down.” Tango replied. He took a step toward Impulse, obviously to comfort him, but then Impulse was surprised to see his friend change their mind and step back again. “Zed and I figured something like this might happen. We would have made beds to set our spawn, but we haven’t been collecting wool that much, so at most we would have had just one piece.”

Impulse chucked a little after realizing there were no sheep around. “What? Did Zedaph finally grow his hair out enough?” And he expected Tango to laugh in return, but the frown that appeared didn’t bode well.

“Impulse, do you… realize what you look like?” Tango asked, and then Impulse looked down at his hand and flexed it.

“What’s happened with Zedaph?”

Tango took a few steps to the side and a moment later the nearby leaves of a tree caught fire. “Zed and I have had both of our more animal-esque traits acting up. I’m burning just about any flammable thing that gets close to me and his wool is growing out of control. There’s other stuff too but…”

“But even if you’re not ending up like me, you’re still dealing with your own things.”

“Hey! I’m back! And it looks like Impulse has not killed you!”

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Hels cut down a hoglin that was in the way of he and Wels as they travelled the nether. Wels was reluctantly following, his copy being the only reason he was doing so well right now. Well that, and the fact that he was promising some sort of shelter. They went a bit further, and then Wels spotted something that was clearly man made, making him try to run forward for shelter before he was grabbed by Hels. “Don’t run ahead idiot. I just know that you’ll manage to die if you try that and we’ll have to start all over.”

“Well I’m sure I could find a way to survive fine on my own.”

“Sure you could.” Hels said, obviously sarcastic. “And your death messages make that so very believable. Tell me, have you noticed anything odd about your situation, other than being stuck in the nether.”

“Well, chat hasn’t been working right and I can’t regenerate my health.”

“Right… Well, what have you been eating?” Hels asked as they finally reached the door to the helsmit’s base, opening it to let Wels inside.

“Mainly crimson fungi or the rare pork if I can chip enough health away from a hoglin.” Wels answered, linking himself to the respawn anchor sitting inside.

“That fungi is only edible to hoglins you know.” Hels said, closing the door and then crossing his arms.

“Well obviously that’s not the case here.” And then Wels made his point by munching down on a mushroom he still had in his inventory.

Hels pursed his lips before yanking the fungi out of Wels’ hand and then smashing the knight’s head against a nearby wall. “Spit that out right now or I’ll go again until I break your tusks.”

“My what?” Wels asked, reluctantly spitting out the half chewed fungus.

“You’re an idiot. How did you not notice you were growing tusks?”

And Wels didn’t have an answer, just letting his hand go to his mouth and feel what were definitely tusks. “When did-”

“Who knows. My guess is it's something with this world. It’s not like any of us want to be here.”

Wels looked back over to Hels at that comment, a questioning look on his face. “Evil Xisuma approached me a few weeks ago. He was planning to get into the new season before the rest of you so he could keep from getting banned and put some action into play with his brother and a number of the other hermits. I wasn’t as interested in his plan, but having fun on the server on my own seemed like a good idea to me. A few others were planning to join us, but I’m sure they haven’t followed along. So as far as I’m aware, it is only Evil Xisuma and I trapped here with all of you.”

“Well, at the very least neither of us are stuck here alone.” Wels spoke, trying to give a positive spin on things.

“I would have preferred to be alone.” Hels replied. “You’ll use up more of my resources. That being said, my guess is you’re necessary for whatever is going on around here to stop. So until that’s fixed or I learn otherwise, I am reluctantly helping you.”

“Alright, that sounds fine for now. And you said Evil Xisuma is here too, correct? Any clue where he could be?”

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Bdubs stared down at the void below his feet, glad to have stopped moving, though his gut was still getting used to that change. The guy in pink armor next to him was reluctantly patting his back as another wave of nausea hit and he started to dry heave. “Th-Thanks.”

“Whatever. I just know what being stuck in the void is like so I have a little sympathy.”

“Well glad to know I’m not the only one stuck in this situation. Not that that’s a good thing.”

“Right.” The armored person deadpanned, looking down at the void as well.

Bdubs was quiet for a little before looking over to his savior. “So then, I don’t really think I caught your name in all our yelling to heave both of us up here.”

The other person raised an eyebrow at Bdubs, as if to ask if he was serious, then being a little surprised when he was. The person hesitated, looking down, not to the void but more at their lap, then a hand fiddled with their hair before they finally looked back at Bdubs. “Name’s Xannes.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Bdubs!” And he held out a hand, pausing as he noticed the state it was in.

Xannes took the hand carefully and shook it, before helping it back to Bdubs’ side. “Side effect of the void. I’m more protected because of my armor, but you don’t have that.”

“Well now I’m actually upset about not having armor, even if it were pink.”

Xannes looked incredulous at that before putting his hands on his hips. “Hey, this is simply a… lightish red.”

“You mean pink.”

“Lightish. Red.”

“Lightish red is red mixed with white. And what does that give you? Pink. You’ve got pink armor.”

“Alright, so maybe it’s supposed to be pink.” Xannes conceded. “But my color is red, and this isn’t my armor, I’m simply borrowing it. So for anyone else, it would be pink, but as long as I wear it, it’s a lightish red.”

“Whatever you say.”

Xannes sighed and then carefully took Bdubs’ hand again. “Alright, so looking again, this doesn’t quite look as natural as being stuck in the voice can make it. Obviously that’s because none of this is natural. Even though it wouldn’t help me in the long run if it were working, I have tested plenty with my communicator and learned a number of things. First, we are not the only ones in a situation like this.”

“Yeah.” Bdubs agreed. “I already met Scar stuck on one of the islands below.”

“Noted.” Xannes nodded. “Well, others have similar odd spawns. I- Someone named Impulse had been stuck in a guardian temple, a Docm77 has been sent to his death by goats. X-Xisuma has been dealing with a warden.” Xannes started to explain, voice getting quieter at the last example, though Bdubs didn’t notice.

“And the void stuff?”

“If I knew more about what was going on, I could tell you. But as it stands, I can just tell your limbs seem to have a form of void-bite and your eyes are as dark as the void itself.”

Bdubs leaned back a little in shock at the comment. “Wait, really?” And then he was fishing into his shirt before pulling out a knife, Xannes’ eyes widening at the weapon. Bdubs held the blade up, briefly putting it back down to shine it against his shirt before using it as a mirror and then staring into it. Sure enough, his eyes seemed to go on forever into their sockets, pure darkness filling them.

“How many knives do you have?” Xannes asked, tearing Bdubs’ gaze from the weapon.

“Huh? Oh, I’ve got plenty. Want one?” And he pulled out another, only the tiniest bit worried about being stabbed by the unfamiliar person. But instead of stabbing him, Xannes simply threw the knife off the edge, watching it fall down. “What was that for?”

Xannes didn’t really reply, just holding a finger up for Bdubs to wait. Reluctantly, he did, but then got restless as time seemed to drag on. Any time he attempted to talk, he would just get shushed, making it feel even worse. Finally, out of nowhere, the knife suddenly fell past them, making Bdubs jump back enough that he nearly fell off their gateway and into the void, but Xannes grabbed him before that could happen and pulled him back in.

“Well then, it seems like a loop around the void lasts around two and a half minutes.” Xannes stated, shifting to turn his body and move to a different part of the gateway. “I guess it would be less on a second loop after already reaching terminal velocity, but it's good to know. I know something has been flying past here ever so often but I was still sort of stuck on the side of this thing for most of it, then I was dealing with you, so… you get the idea.”

“You telling me everything’s looping up and down like us?” Bdubs asked, looking around the sky, or what passed for it in the end.

“Us and anything non-living. I’ve already seen that there have been three void related deaths by Scar, Etho and TinFoilChef.”

“Well so far I’ve only seen Scar and you.” Bdubs replied. “I guess those other two are stuck around here too.”

“The chef, yes, but I’m not so sure about the other.” And Xannes handed his comm to Bdubs, showing a list of death messages, all belonging to Etho. “I have a function that lets me sort these messages. It’s very handy.” And then he reached off to the side, catching a comm as it fell from the air. “And this would be yours. I’ve seen it here and there… To be honest, it seems like it takes more than two or so minutes. We might need to test more.”

Bdubs swapped their communicators before looking down at the abyss below. “Well, Scar’s somewhere down there, I already found him once. I’m gonna see if I can get to him again and you can do whatever while I’m falling.”

Xannes rubbed his chin and then nodded. “Alright, go ahead. I’ll look out for you. If you respawn, wait a loop for me to catch you because I don’t have omniscient reaction time.”

“Sounds good to me.” Bdubs replied with a smile, then jumped into the void once more, ignoring the fear that came with it.

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Scar rolled around on the end stone, trying to get to sleep. Sure, beds didn’t work in the end, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t sleep. It just wasn’t restful enough to keep phantoms away or set a spawn. Not like he needed to set a spawn three blocks away from his current one.

But right now, there was too much noise. The endermen were slowly losing their cool with Scar and he was also hearing the whispering of the vex. To be honest, that was probably why huge endermen were acting as they were. Void magic didn’t like to work with other magic.

But even with all of that, Scar really wanted to sleep for another reason. The whispers of the vex weren’t the only new thing with him. He had polished the pillar near him as just something to do other than wait around. The end rod in particular he shined until it was just mirror-like enough that he saw his green eyes were now vex blue. From that, he checked himself over a bit more and found that his eyes weren’t the only change. He seemed to be an inch or three shorter and his skin was definitely paler than before. He didn’t have wings again, but he knew it would only be a matter of time.

Scar really didn’t want to use any more help from the vex yet, knowing it would speed things up. He wanted to keep hope out for seeing Bdubs again before doing anything since it could be his last chance before a deal was needed once more. If he could just-

“Convex.” A much clearer whisper spoke, making Scar jump a little. “Are you sure a deal is such a bad thing at this stage in time?”

“Oh no no no no no.” Scar insisted, standing up and waving his hands in refusal. “I’m sure I’ll be better use to my friends if I’m not mostly stuck working with you guys.”

“What if you were not working for us?” The whisper asked, making Scar pause.

“Wait? I’m Convex because I can’t become true vex because of Xisuma and him tainting me and Cub with the void or something. I would think now being stuck in the end would make it worse, not better!”

“You still cannot, that is true. But a new evoker is being trained, one also tainted by the void. And I believe you would want to work with them.”

Scar inhaled sharply at the implication, knowing that it must be a hermit they were referring to. He fumbled in pulling his communicator out and then scrolled through all the death messages before finally seeing what he wanted. Death messages to vindicators and evokers, both about Mumbo. “So clarification on this deal?”

“You will still be considered Convex, but on a higher level than before. Not quite at the level of standard vex however. But during this, you will be linked to the new evoker, and cannot be released unless they themselves will it. And you should not will your release either.”

“Yeah, yeah, if that’s all, sure!” Scar agreed quickly, so excited he didn’t really take the time to think it over. Then suddenly he could feel more magic flowing into him. So much it felt like a red hot iron pressed all over his body, especially at his scars. And then it was gone, and he was left panting on the ground.

He didn’t know how long he had been there, but suddenly his name was shouted and Scar managed to lift his head up. He saw Bdubs rocking down towards him again and suddenly felt stronger again, getting a burst of energy and moving towards the builder. New wings spread from his back and let him fly, keeping him above the void as he grabbed his friend and then slowed them before reaching the abyss below, then slowly dragging them back up.

“Bdubs! Are you okay?!” Scar asked the moment they were both on the endstone, only staying on his feet for a second before his knees buckled beneath him.

“Am I okay? Am I okay?! I’m on the sweet sweet ground again!” And then he kissed the stone beneath him. “What about you? You look… not Scar but sound normal.”

“I can explain more in a bit. There’s an end city just over that way and I want to get something so we can start towards the main island. I’ll see if there’s elytra for you.”

“Oh no. I don’t think I ever want to fly again. If anyone, give it to Xannes.”

“Who?”

“Okay, guess my story first.”

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On the main island, TFC dodged another attack from the dragon. She had been attacking less frequently, which was good and bad in his eyes. No attacking meant less dying, but TFC needed her attacks to even attempt destroying all the crystals. Because there was no way she was dying to fists alone with them still around.

That all being said, TFC had a sneaking suspicion on why exactly that was happening. His prosthetics were built to match his remaining limbs in function, but gradually over the past few respawns, they were becoming off balance. In trying to fix them, TFC realized he was less human than before, claws on his hands and feet, and tenderness at his tailbone and shoulder blades.

TFC was old, that much was true. And because of that, he had seen all sorts of situations. While for the most part the problems of this world were new to TFC, adaptations were not. A number of present day hybrids were a result of that. Heck, mob variants were also sourced from suce and occurrence. So yeah, TFC was not too surprised about seemingly becoming a dragon hybrid.

Thinking it over, in the long run it would likely give him just enough of an upper hand to defeat the dragon, but there was also the concern of how long it would take to get to that point and how far these alterations would go. If this went too far, the world itself could mistake him for a new ender dragon, and even after killing the real one, no portal would form due to his existence.

Well, if that was the case, he would need to figure out what it was that made the existence of the dragon close the portal and see if he could reverse it. Especially since he recalled at least one or two hermits were supposed to be stuck in the end with him. Though that did give him another idea. Maybe he didn’t have to keep fighting if the dragon opened the portal herself.

The next time TFC respawned, he waited, giving her time to rest. When he was sure the dragon was fully healed again, the miner made his way to the podium and waited. The dragon swooped a few times, giving some warning shots, but she didn’t attack TFC directly, and he made no move to attack the crystals. She didn’t look happy, but TFC had plenty of time to wait.

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In a bout of frustration, ink was spilled over the floor, making Mumbo even more frustrated than before. He didn’t understand the need for learning another language just for spells. He was sure that knowing the characters that appeared with enchanting would be enough, but apparently the illagers had their own writing system. At the very least, Mumbo recognized a character or two that Scar or Cub must have had written down, but it still felt like he was learning a new language from scratch.

With ink all over the place, Mumbo paused to work on cleaning everything up. He had ruined nearly all his materials, so now he would have to attempt to get more or find an illager who would assist him in such a task. Paper was easy enough to get, a farm already set up in the mansion, but Mumbo hadn’t automated it yet, so there wasn’t going to be much to reap. And squid ink wasn’t something they just had on hand.

Mumbo reached the farming room and grabbed what sugarcane had grown, taking the reeds over to a crafting table then cutting and pressing them into paper. He only managed to make six pages from all of that and didn’t have the material to bind them into a book.Instead of leaving the room, Mumbo put the paper into a nearby chest and then pulled out his redstone materials.

As Mumbo built, he decided to multitask by using redstone dust to practice some of the characters he needed to learn. He couldn’t remember the normal order of the characters, so he just wrote them at random. He never really focused on the characters, so he didn’t notice when a few in a line started to glow a bit. In fact, he was just pausing his writing to work on fixing a bit of redstone, his head stuck in the contraption.

His hand blindly reached for some string to add as a tripwire, but he was about half a foot to the wrong side of his pile of materials. When Mumbo’s hand started to go further, it was stopped by some thread being placed in his hand. The redstoner said his thanks and then strung it up before pausing and pulling his head out.

Standing nearby was someone Mumbo immediately recognized, not knowing anyone else with a bright red sweater like that. Not caring that he was currently covered in redstone dust, Mumbo jumped at the newcomer and hugged them tightly, so glad to see a familiar face. “Grian! You’re okay! How did you get here? Where are the bots? Are you alright?”

But pulling away again, Mumbo watched as Grian just blinked at him, seeming a little confused. “I think you may be mistaken and confused, my mustachioed friend. I mean, I am okay and I got here because of you, but I’m not sure what you mean by bots and well, you were trying to take to someone named Grian.”

Mumbo furrowed his brows. Looking them over again, he could tell this had to be Grian. His clothes and hair and everything were the same. He couldn’t quite tell about their eyes because they were wearing a mask, but it matched the one he had seen Grian with in the past, a black mark on its face instead of the purple Eflyn expected. The only thing unfamiliar were the wings. Shape and pattern wise, they matched the wings Grian had, but the colors of the feathers were no longer red yellow and blue, but purple grey and black.

“Well then. If you’re not Grian, then who are you?” Mumbo asked, and the person giggled slightly.

“I could have swore you already knew, but I guess not. The name is Xelqua, but don’t go throwing it around to just anyone.” And just hearing it reminded Mumbo. It had been a name Grian had told him before.

“Well, if you don’t want me throwing it around, I’m going to have to call you something.” Mumbo spoke up, Xelqua seeming to agree. “Since I already mistook you for him and he’s not around, how about I call you Grian.”

“Hmm.” Grian thought about it before shaking his head. “Just you and me, you can call me Xelqua. Otherwise just Watcher is fine, okay?”

“But I-” Mumbo started to say, and then there was a clatter, making Mumbo and Grian look over at the door where Eflyn was standing.

“Well. It seems we have another guest then…”

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.

.

Joe had paused in his material gathering. It was just going to be for a little bit, but he needed to clear his head. And the best idea he had for that was climbing the tower at spawn the correct way. Sure, he could try climbing from the outside or something, finding a window, but at this point these were definitely Watchers, and Joe was very much aware that they were not to be messed with.

Joe needed to pause on a platform to hold his head, a headache forming. It had been coming and going for a while, but it didn’t feel so bad now, the tower already lit up pretty well. As he waited, his other hand clutched at the wall as best it could, just feeling the texture of the wall, as if to check that it was real. “Guess you really couldn’t have been swayed, now could you?” Joe asked, speaking into the empty air around him. “Well maybe after this mess we can try it again.”

Joe climbed a few more parts of the parkour that acted as steps before nearly falling to a sudden splitting headache. He half considered letting go and trying again, there being enough hay lining the floor below to break his fall, but he had already gotten so far. And maybe if he could get to the top of the tower…

It had been ages ago when Joe had first met a Watcher. From what he could tell, it was even the first Watcher to exist. One that eventually disappeared to time that not even the other Watchers knew what happened. He wasn’t an expert of whatever the Watchers exactly were, but it had been enough that he recognized Grian as one pretty quickly when they first met in season six. Though that was partially from that not being their first meeting.

Yes, Joe had been along for a very long time. Which is why he was not happy with everything going on. But he had a bargaining chip in the form of knowledge, so getting to the top might be the one place to try and use it.

His headache passed and the glow from his eyes faded. Joe pulled himself back onto the platform and then adjusted his glasses. Just a bit more to go until he was at the top.

.

.

.

Doc woke up in a wood hut, lying in a bed. His back and head hurt, getting worse when he attempted to move to get up. He tried to remember what happened last, but suddenly being knocked unconscious wasn’t the best thing to try and remember. Looking around in a way that didn’t hurt as much, he was able to see a chest as well as something lying on the ground to his right.

Some crackling implied there was also a furnace running nearby. Mixed with that was some slight banging of metal from crafting and the hum of a tune that was familiar to Doc, but he couldn’t quite place it.

Another attempt to sit up left Doc yelp slightly in pain, stopping the humming and crafting sounds, getting replaced with footsteps that came towards him. “Are you awake this time?”

“Grumbot?” Doc asked, vaguely recognizing the robot that appeared in front of him. He only really distinctly knew his larger form, only seeing him and his brother at this size when they were just about to leave their previous world.

“Yeah. looks like you are. We have some bread if you’re hungry.” Grum spoke in a quiet voice that felt so odd compared to how energetic the hermits usually were. That being said, it had been a while since he had seen anyone else, so it might have just been from what others were dealing with. “I also left some of the wheat as wheat if you prefer that.”

“What? Why would I want that? Bread sounds fine.”

“Okay, I wasn’t sure if you were like dad or not.” Grum said before he went over to the chest, giving Doc a moment to think things over.

“Dad as in Grian or Mumbo?”

“Grian.” Grum answered, pulling out some food. “He was with us on the mountain. Everything was getting to him, so he started eating seeds instead of other stuff.”

“Okay. Is he out getting supplies or something?” Doc asked and then Grum’s face shifted to something sadder. “What happened to Grian?”

“I don’t know.” Grum spoke, managing to be quieter than before. “He just disappeared and Jrum and I were stuck alone on the mountain. And then I messed up.” And it took all of Doc’s willpower to not sit up and possibly hurt himself in the process with how sad Grum sounded in that moment.

“Why? What happened?”

“Someone figured out how to send messages in chat by accident. Jrum and I noticed, and we were going to try it out for ourselves, but it didn’t go right. And now Jrum… Jrum didn’t respawn right.”

And with that comment, Doc realized what was on the ground nearby. Jrum’s body was laid out, screen dark and body unmoving. “How long has he been like that?”

“A few days I think. It got really snowy so I couldn’t quite tell. Then I got busy digging through the snow until I found some ice to break.”

“And that must have been the waterfall I took down off the mountain.” Doc said, making Grum look a little sheepish.

“Sorry about hitting you when I fell. I freaked out a bit and then you were there and I couldn’t react in time. I’m sure if it was anyone else, they would have been in worse shape.”

“Why’s that?” Doc asked, though he had an idea based on which side of him ached more.

“Well, your metal parts helped protect you plus I think your thicker skull helped from a concussion.”

“My what?”

“Oh, I thought you…” Grum said, trailing off. “Um, so I think more weird stuff is happening than just being stuck wherever.”

“Yeah, I knew that.” Doc said. “Creeper instincts have been kicking in like crazy.”

“Well, your death messages mentioned goats a lot. It looks like because of that, you’ve started turning into a goat hybrid as well.”

“I’ve what?” Doc asked, incredulously. He ignored the pain from moving when he started feeling himself over, finally finding horns coming from his head. “Oh… huh…”

Grum forced Doc back down to a resting position before feeding him some bread. Here, how about I tell you what I know about, then you can tell me what you know.

“Sounds good to me.”

#hermitcraft #hermitcraft au #scattered au #xisuma #ijevin #hypnotizd #ethoslab #welsknight #helsknight #bdubs #bdoubleo100 #evil xisuma #Goodtimeswithscar #tinfoilchef #mumbo jumbo #grian #watcher!grian #joe hills #docm77 #grumbot #jrumbot

[i-need-air]

Truthful mess.

Summary: Truth quirk shenanigans. HCs type with Bakugou, Kirishima, Shouto and Shinsou.

Note: Still don't know how to add "Read more" on phone, still need to make a masterlist. At least I have coffee. [I’M DOING BOTH RN, BE PROUD;;;LOOKATTHEReADMORE] Ty for reading! ♥

Bakugou Katsuki:

× well, shit

× he fucked up real bad and now he had to pay for it

× noticed something was wrong when he thanked Kirishima for saving his life instead of giving him the usual snappy attitude

× made the redhead promise to keep the secret or he'll kill him

× seriously kill and incinerate his body and was 100% serious about it

× Bakugou tried his hardest to keep his mouth shut and everything went okay until you just existed in the same room at him

× he'd just get the fuck out because all he wanted to tell you was how good you looked in whatever you were wearing or how beautiful your face was when kissed by the rays of sunshine and he was so confused

× he literally wanted to word vomit all of that

× thankfully the police arresting the mf that did this to him informed Katsuki about the effects of the quirk itself

× approximately 3 days of spilling truths

× he could handle that

× easy

× but not really; the less he talked the more he needed to spill out his mind

× he'd still snap at people, they were just dumb and he voiced that but

× well, hello there, [y/n]

× he prays you don't waltz around him

× life can be a bitch though

× it happened while training, Cementos made an area for each of you to improve your quirks and guess what? you're placed just by his side

× you just waved at him and he ignored you

× asshole much; until you kick-dropped and broke a big piece of cement in half

× "Fuck, that was so sexy..."

× your head turned slowly towards Bakugou because that was his voice, definitely, no doubt

× but it was raspy and low and it did some things to your, ehem, lowers and holy shit

× Bakugou looked like a deer caught in the highlights; he was full "step on me" mode and????????

× instantly turned the other way and yes, he is blushing

× he just couldn't hold it in, man

× so you're confused, blushing, Kirishima is near-by shook as fuck because he's ✨ realizing things ✨ since of course he's now Bakugou's self-proclaimed guard dog

× and Bakugou is back at ignoring you, his friend and the world

× you decide to keep an eye on him because that was not normal and oh my god why is that voice still affecting you? did he seriously say that??

× meanwhile you catch him looking at you from the corner of your eyes

× boy is staring real bad

× so you just go his way

× he panics as you approach him and blows shit up

× "Don't fucking come closer!" you freeze because what the hell? you thought you were getting along? yeah he's been snappy recently but it's Bakugou, he has mood-swings

× but not like this? at least with you?

× also what he said before just gave you hope??

× so you decide Fuck it all and get closer, noticing how Kirishima also approaches, looking like a bodyguard

× you raise your eyebrow because Excuse you?

× "[L/N], you should leave him be for now–"

× "Get out of my way or I'll break you, Kirishima."

× so you're having a staring match with the red-head, almost nose to nose when legit a growl shakes you to the core

× "[Y/N]'s mine, Shitty Hair, back down." he said between his teeth, his palms sparkling, quirk ready

× so his friend backs up, hands raised in defeat but a knowing grin on his face

× even in full shock you expected him to ignore you again but he just stomps towards you angrily, teeth greeted

× "You have a thing for him, hmm? You like Kirishima?" he was glaring at you, breathing heavily but suddenly locked his eyes in your lips

× and while he's throwing this fit or whatever it was, all the class kinda stopped whatever they were doing to see what's going on

× but Cementos ain't having any of that so parts you guys with a cement wall and orders you to keep training

× Bakugou was never more thankful because holy shit what was about to happen?

× you're full mind-blown, remembering his words again and again not even focusing on training; you decide to talk with his dumb ass to clarify what he said and wAs he jealous? i mean he literally said you're his so—... HE FUCKING SAID YOU'RE HIS????

× after that he went back to his grumpy old man form, you don't talk again until days later, although you did try to approach him again, many times, because YOU'RE HIS????????

× it's when he finally realizes the quirk is wearing off and he's relieved because it got to a point where he couldn't sleep

× so when you confront him in the common room the next morning he shrugs it off with a "I thought I'd accidentally confess that I love you and that would've been a problem."

× he freezes

× you freeze

× he wanted to call you a dumbass and move on until he figures his shit up but...

× that's when he realizes the effect of the quirk was dying off in waves

× save him from the mortification and confess too, please?

Kirishima Eijirou:

× he's normally a truthful guy

× but not like this, man, not like this

× Fatgum saved his ass but it was too late since he already got hit by a quirk, although none knew what it was about, so his mentor was having a full Panic moment

× later on he was informed about it's nature and was confused because nothing changed?

× he still compliments people, he's still his old self and is actually so happy that's the case

× thinks he's manly because he's honest about his feelings

× although he forgot about a tiny little detail

× his big fat crush on you

× like he'd blush when you came around, almost stuttered when responding to you, would try harder when you were around because pretty please, notice him, shows off more, all the I-need-YOUR-attention bag

× because he's smooth but in a Kirishima way, you know?

× felt he had zero (0) game [so not manly of him]

× will hands down not avoid you; thinks it's lame to run away from this

× who would've thought this was the best thing that could've happened to him?

× still had his boyish charm, cute smiles, blushes

× but now we add the honest "You look amazing today. Well, more than usual." with a wink because if he can't stop himself, at least he'll make it work big time

× and oh, shit that's doing stuff to your poor heart because his compliments are all over the roof? wth is going on?

× everyone knew about his feelings for you but now they really knew

× literally takes him half a day to spill all out

× he did try to clear his mind of those feelings in class because that would be so awkward and weird; he spent so much time daydreaming how to confess before and doing it there was definitely not the plan, but something more personal and meaningful

× when Kiri saw you in the common room though, alone and minding your own business, a grin broke on his face and had hearts in his eyes

× Bakugou had to hear a lot of shit about you, tho just rolled his eyes; "whatever, shitty hair."

× because you're so flawlessly beautiful and you're not even trying

× your head snaps up at him, blushing

× OOP–did he just blurt that out?

× so he's laughing awkwardly because not like this, man

× but goes with it because We die like men here 😤

× cue word vomit about how great you are and this quirk hit him and god you're amazing and it's not a lie because remember when you first met at UA? well he thought you were an angel and when you smiled at him? perfection and your blushing face is adorable and needs to see it everyday and ok this quirk needs to stop–

× meanwhile

× [Y/N].exe has stopped working

× legit tho, he won't shut the hell up and it's adorable

× all day he's been super smooth about his compliments to you and now he's the sweetest mess ever

× and you only notice yourself smiling when he points it out and says it's the single most beautiful thing he's ever seen in his entire life

× and even if that almost makes you 404 again you laugh and walk towards him

× which he follows and steps closer to you too

× smiling

× so he calms down when you're not freaking out about what he's spilling and goes back to being cha-cha-real-smooth again

× "I want to be able to call you mine"

Todoroki Shouto:

× another guy that doesn't really notice it at first

× he got hit by this weird blue-purple dust while on patrol with his dad

× and Endeavor went feral on this low-life villain deciding to attack suddenly

× low and behold, seems the guy wasn't a villain, just a civilian that sneezed and activated his quirk by accident

× quirk that landed on Shouto here

× which just stared confused because what?

× explanations happen, Endeavor is looking down at Shouto expecting something anytime now

× but Icy-Hot here just shrugs it off because it's okay, it's just 3 or 4 days

× funny thing is his dad asked him questions and realized pretty quick that Shouto has been really honest with him until now, which bummed him because Endeavor Is Trying™

× Todoroki Shouto was confident that nothing would go wrong so he forgets about it basically

× two days pass; class time happens

× is so fucking casual about it but it's so hilariously confusing

× he was honest before but he was quiet in general, that's why his honesty came in small dosages

× now he has no filter and won't shut up, he has this absolute need to share his thoughts

× my boy has opinions about everything

× but especially about [Y/N]

× oh yeah, he definitely tells you how that color enhances your natural beauty or how you're really smart

× is so casual and nonchalant, shooks everyone, leaves you full confusion mode while he just smiles and leaves

× legit doesn't realize it

× he complimented you before, that's the thing, but now he's really intensifying it but without changing the tone and execution and it's just a mess

× example:

× goes from "You changed your hairstyle. It looks nice." to "The way you style your hair now makes your eyes pop out more. I love it."

× lowkey proclaims his love about you; it's so obvious it hurts; you have to take it like a champ, man

× it takes Tsu to actually ask what's going on, in the first hour of class

× [even Aizawa is listening, pretending to sleep]

× explains why he's acting like this; "I got hit accidentally by a quirk that makes me speak only the truth."

× everyone just goes crazy while you're piecing stuff together in deep thought

× "Who do you think is the strongest in the class?"

× "Aizawa."

× lowkey a little shit

× "Between the students."

× "Me."

× big time a little shit

× it's until Mina asks who he likes that all hell breaks loose

× Shouto just turns to look at you, blinks and says your name

× just as everyone goes mental after a moment of silence, the bell rings signaling the next class, to which Aizawa [the mature man he is, acting as if this wasn't the best tea-spill he's gonna have at lunch with the other teachers 💅] wakes up, silences everyone and continues class

× every pair of eyes are on you all class

× Shouto is having an existencial crisis because he's actually realizing himself that he likes you

× a lot

× hands down he thought about how great you are, wondered deep in though at night why his heart beat so fast when you smiled at him, how come he got jealous???? when you'd pair with someone else to study or train... the boy didn't even know it was jealousy until now

× as in now he knew he wanted to hold your hand, have more inside jokes between you two, kiss you, marry you, wait what—

× you on the other hand are hyperventilating because Shouto likes you

× and you like him back and oH my god, wHAT just happened????

× lunch break comes, nobody moved from their seats while Todoroki just walks by, stares at you, slight blush on his face

× "I'd like to speak alone with you. About my feelings. Towards you. I like you."

× nice alone chat, Shouto 👏 👏 👏 👏 👏

× legit nobody is breathing, not making a single noise, waiting for your reaction

× so through stutters and all, you have to grab him by his wrist and get the hell out, the attention being too much

× before you reach a quiet place to talk he just stares at your hand

× "I like it when you touch me. Your hand is warm and it makes my skin tingle–"

× so you're a blushing mess when you let go of his wrist fastly

× "Do you not like me back?" [insert kicked puppy face]

× [insert you telling him that you do, but all the attention in class was killing you]

× "Good. Now hold my hand properly."

× that day Shouto learned that being bold with you was the perfect way to get the sweetest reactions out of you

× it's called teasing and Todoroki Shouto will never stop

Hitoshi Shinsou:

× Shinsou had a Reputation™, ok?

× Calm, cool, collected, that's Hitoshi Shinsou

× so how come Monoma did him so dirty?

× it seems the blond borrowed a quirk from someone he knew and fled to school to just bring Hell on Earth

× but the only person he managed to throw the quirk at was at Shinsou

× it wasn't even intended for him, but for Bakugou to embarrass him

× so here he was, Mister Tired-of-this-fucking-world now having another reason to be done with everything

× the boy wasn't dumb

× made a strategy just as Monoma was apologizing for the mistake

× somehow the blond took a liking on him and even if he was now part of class 2-A, Monoma proclaimed he was a 2-B at heart; moving on...

× 3 to 5 days of not talking lies

× great, amazing, marvelous, incredible, fantastic

× Rule #1: Avoid [Y/N] at all costs

× which would prove rather difficult since you're part of the same group he was in

× and you were starting to be really good friends

× something he loved/hated because yes, he wants your friendship but he also wants much more

× so when you came to class, would you look at that! Shinsou is sleeping!

× when you went to lunch with the squad? he fled the scene, not opening his mouth

× asked to borrow a pen in class? didn't even look into your eyes as he just gave you one

× after 3 days of this you were starting to get annoyed

× and Midoriya was writing shit down in that notebook of his mumbling stuff every single time Hitoshi bailed

× what you didn't know is that the whole Dekusquad caught on to Shinsou's shenanigans and demanded answers

× well, Ochaco did and she instantly got them because she's terrifying when serious

× so Izuku is in deep fascination with the quirk, Iida is stiff as fuck and Uraraka has this really creepy I-know-something-you-don't smile on her face; Shouto was existing there too, minding his business 🍵

× you really tried to grab a hold of Shinsou but he wasn't even answering your texts

× time to make a game-plan

× and the easiest way to understand what's going on was through Deku and that suspicious notebook of his

× it wasn't even that hard to get it because you got the perfect opportunity basically thrown in your lap

× he was mumbling your name as he was writing down

× you literally demanded to see what he's writing about involving you

× the boy went full panic but before he could manage to escape the situation, the guy that's been avoiding you grabs you by your forearm and tugs you in the hallway

× there he was, purple messy head you wanted to smack, looking all uncomfortable, rubbing the back of his neck

× "Ok, listen, I have something to tell you and I want you to know through me, not through that notebook" he sighed, eyes avoiding you

× and while you're hurt and exhausted he just mumbles "Who knows what type of embarrassing stuff he wrote there..."

× hold up, he blushing?

× so while you're processing that he explains

× "Been hit by a quirk..." yada-yada, this and that

× "Ok, but why have you been avoiding me of all people?" you just go hard on him for a little bit, not hiding that you're hurting "Do you not trust me?"

× he's caught off guard

× "Because I love you and I'm scared you'll never look at me the same."

× longest silence of his life

× he never felt the need to fill a silent moment more than now

× so he mumbles

× oh, yah, he just blurts it all out while looking everywhere but you

× "I mean you deserve better than a guy with a quirk like this. I didn't want to make things uncomfortable between us so I thought avoiding you was the best, just so we can continue being friends and–"

× he's a fucking mess and it hurts you that he's saying stuff like that because holy shit you love this sleepy idiot?

× of course you kiss him to silence his rant

× and when you separate from it and start to reassure him he's just a m a z i n g, how dare he say stuff like that and how dare he avoid you for so long; now it's his time to kiss you back slowly and sweetly

× cue instant, lazy smile

× "You're adorable..."

#Truth quirk #Bnha headcanons #Bnha scenario #Bakugou katsuki #masaru bakugou #todoroki shouto #Todoroki shouto x reader #kirishima eijirou #Kirishima eijirou x reader #hitoshi shinsou #Hitoshi shinsou x reader #Shinsou #Hitoshi #Bakugou #Kirishima #Shouto #Todoroki #Noire writes #Bnha fluff

[lupins-sweater]

Silly Goose

(Remus Lupin x Reader)

Requested by the lovely @poppin-potter

Summary: Reader takes care of drunk Remus

Warnings: Drinking/ Alcohol, food

Sorry about the really infrequent posting; school is starting, and it’s been awful trying to juggle this and getting ready for school. Once school resumes on the 19th, posting will be even more infrequent. You can still request things, but just know it’ll take forever to get to. It’s been very stressful considering I have to go back in person, and my school isn’t doing a lot to prevent the spread. I will be trying to catch up on other’s fics in the meantime though.

The Gryffindor common room was packed with students from every house; it was the last day of OWLS. The most popular songs blasted through the stereos causing people to sing and dance in time with the music. Of course alcohol was involved. How could it not be? After weeks of slaving over review materials, everyone was ready to let loose and relax. Even Remus Lupin, a friend of a friend. This friend, being Lily Evans, was your roommate since fourth year.

You knew he was one of the popular boys in school along with James Potter, Sirius Black, and Peter Pettigrew. It made sense they were well known though. Except for Pettigrew, they were all smart, handsome, funny boys who knew their way around the rules. From what Lily has told you and the short conversations you’ve had with them, you kind of figured out their personalities. Potter was cocky and reckless; he was usually found either with the boys planning something or chasing your red haired friend around. Black was loud and a complete tease; he was always flirting and shooting winks your way. Pettigrew was...quiet and a little creepy; he also was a mouth breather, so he got in your nerves. And Lupin was also quiet, intelligent, and sarcastic; you sat next to him for a couple classes, and you tried your best not to laugh at his little remarks about the content. He noticed your struggle to keep it together when he whispered his comments into your ear when the professor wasn’t looking. To keep it together as in not to burst out laughing, but you did melt a little when you could smell his cologne and chocolate on his breath.

You also found out he was a werewolf after seeing him in the hospital wing every month during your shifts. Volunteering to help heal students back to health is what brought you closer to Remus. Although his friends kept him plenty of company, you wanted wanted to make sure his couple days at the wing weren’t lonely. He admitted he was a werewolf when you asked, not so smoothly, where did he get all the scars and how he got hurt every month. You felt awful after asking, but he was okay with it. He knew you were friends with Lily, and from what he could tell, you were trustworthy.

You were seated on a velvet love seat next to Lily and your best friend, Y/F’s/N. They were talking about dating which didn’t interest you, so you stared into space daydreaming about about a trip to Italy. Lily rudely interrupted your visions of running through an art museum by poking your arm. You looked at her slightly annoyed and hummed in response.

“What about you? Do you have your eyes on someone?” she asked. She already knew the truth, but she wanted to hear you admit you had feelings for the tall werewolf. Your quick glances and nervous behavior didn’t go unnoticed.

“No. Not that I can think of,” you lied. You returned you gaze back to the wall, hoping you could go back to daydreaming, so you didn’t have to continue the conversation.

“Really? Not even Remus?” Lily teased. “Could have been fooled.”

Loud laughing distracted you from coming up with a smart ass reply. You and your friends swiveled around to see the Marauders laughing about something. Whatever it was, it seemed hilarious. You didn’t even realise you were smiling when you observed Remus doubled over laughing; his smile wide and eyes teary.

“Don’t you think Remus is so cute, Y/N?” Y/F’s/N pokes you.

Your face felt hot as you tore your gaze away from the sandy haired boy.

“Ooo you do! Why don’t you ask him out? He’s right over there,” Lily pushed you.

“Nooo. I could never do that!” you objected.

“Why not?”

“He doesn’t like me in that way! I’ll just embarrass myself.”

“Whatever you say,” Lily sang raising her eyebrows in response.

----

As the clock’s hands inched closer to two a.m., the students began to filter out the common room. The only people left were the Marauders, you, and Lily. The boys were clearly drunk as they slurred their way through plans of future pranks. You got up from your spot and began to pick up the cups strewn around the floor and coffee table. 

“Do you need help?” Lily asked with a yawn.

“Nah. I’m fine. Maybe you could help the boys up the stairs,” you laughed as you watched them stumble to the boys dorm, “looks like they need it.”

“Ha ha yeah. I’ll help James and Sirius if you help Remus.”

“What? That wasn’t part of the deal!” You could feel the heat on your face as you looked past Lily to see Remus waving at you and stumbling backward. 

“Maybe. Alright. What about this? I’ll help Sirius and James and pick up the rest of the rubbish if you take care of Remus.”

“Fine. If that means you’ll stop telling me to ask him out.”

She rolled her eyes “I only want you to get yourself a man; you complain about not having a boyfriend.”

That was one hundred percent true. You didn’t want to sound desperate, but you were kinda lonely and felt like you were mature enough to try dating. You also wouldn’t admit this out loud, but you were jealous of your friends who went on dates during Hogsmeade trips, leaving you alone. 

You walked over to the sweater clad boy on the small desk and waved. 

“Hello,” he greeted in a quiet voice and waved back. 

“All right, Rem. Let’s get you to bed.” You reached your hand out to show you wanted him to follow you. He hopped off the desk and pulls you in for warm hug. Your thoughts could be best described as a giant exclamation point; the hug was totally unexpected as Remus wasn’t a fan of pda, and since you had a crush on him, the butterflies in your stomach threatened to spill. 

“I like it when you call me that. It makes me very happy,” he admitted with a pleased smile. 

“What? Rem?” you giggled as you tried to wriggle yourself out of his grip.

“Mhmm” he let you grab his arm and walk up the stairs one step at a time. 

You felt your arm tug as you tried taking another step and looked down. Remus had apparently tripped. 

“Oh dear. Come on,” you helped pull him back on his feet. Once he’s standing again, he brings his arm around your shoulders for support. The smell of alcohol hung off his breath as you wondered how much he had. Either he was really happy the year ended or his week had been rough. 

You pulled your wand out of your sweater pocket and muttered a spell to get into the boys’ dorm. 

“You’re so smart,” he praised you. 

“Thanks...so are you.” Wow. This is awkward. 

“No. You’re crazy smart,” he reiterated with a lopsided smile,“ and cute.”

“My goodness. We’re confident today. You’re pretty good looking yourself,” you sent a wink his way as the blush returned from earlier.

The two of you finally made it to his dorm room; the other three occupants were laying in bed. You guided him to the four poster bed to the farthest side on the right wall and took off his shoes when he sat down.

“Okay. I’m going to go get you something to eat soon, but I need you to get dressed in pajamas. Are they in your trunk?”

“Ooo food! Yes. The trunk,” he rubbed his eyes and watched contently as you rummaged through his trunk. You grabbed a water bottle and a pair of blue matching pajamas.

“Thank you, Y/N!” He unscrewed the cap and started chugging its contents causing you to cover your mouth in an attempt to not laugh. The rest of the boys were trying to sleep.

“Try not to drink the whole thing!”

He stopped to shoot you an incredulous look. “But I’m thirsty.”

You laughed silently and moved toward the door.

“Wait. Don’t leave me! Stayyyy,” he whined, “I promise I won’t drink all the water.”

“I’ll be right back. I’m just getting you a snack.”

“Oh! Silly goose.”

You laughed at the odd phrase. “What? Me?”

“No me. I forgot you were getting food.”

“Get dressed, Rem,” you pointed to the clothes on his lap. He smiled in return.

——

You got back from the kitchens with some crackers without getting caught surprisingly and noticed Remus had fallen asleep. Smiling to yourself, you walked into the bathroom and grabbed the bin to set next to his bed.

You tiptoed your way to his bed, careful not to wake the others. He did in fact get dressed in the pajamas you gave him but the shirt was buttoned incorrectly. You resisted the urge to fix it and set down the crackers and bin.

Before leaving you got out a piece of parchment and a quill from his school bag propped up next to the nightstand.

You were feeling a little brave, so you wrote:

Hello, Rem! (Or silly goose as you called yourself)

How did you sleep? Hope you’re feeling good. Your water is on the stand, and I left some crackers for you. The bin is on the floor if you need it.

You looked like you had a great time last night. Who knew you would be so clingy when drunk? Don’t worry; you didn’t do anything stupid.

It was nice to talk to you outside of the hospital wing and class. Maybe we can study in the library next week? I’d love to get to know you better.

-Y/N

You then left to go to bed in your own dorm, glad Lily pushed you to take care of Remus.

——

General HP tag list

@summer-writes @masterofthedarkness @iliveiloveiwrite @siriusly-addicted-to-writing @nebulablakemurphy @obsessedwithrandomthings @haphazardhufflepuff @firewhisky-kisses

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin x you #remus x y/n #remus x you

[deathonyourtongue]

Willow Run | Ch. 4

Summary: On a horse ranch in Texas, life is far simpler than on the streets of Bakubah, but Syverson has a bad habit of taking in strays of all kinds, no matter what demons may be after them. Pairing: Captain Syverson x OFC Word Count: 2K Warnings: Death. Yeah, I said it.  A/N: You guys are the absolute best! I apologize in advance for what I’m about to do (my body count is WAY too high at this point, but a niche is a niche I guess, right?) CHAPTER 1 | CHAPTER 2 | CHAPTER 3 |

_______________________________________________

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If pain and suffering were library books, Syverson was way past due. 

Despite all the extra work he’d put in, Sy slept fitfully. Sasha's presence had more than once awoken memories of his past and now, without his consciousness to act as a filter, his mind was having a field day as it dragged him down memory lane. He tossed, turned, murmured and finally cried out in sheer terror as the most horrific image of his life came back in full, breath-taking force.

Syverson sat bolt upright as the moment played out, his body covered head to toe in sweat, eyes wide and wild as he reached for a gun that hadn't been there in years; not since the incident with the window.

He couldn't catch his breath, couldn't block out the image, and even though he looked awake, Sy was still very much caught in the grips of his nightmare; the tears streaming silently down his face and his mouth locked open in a hoarse scream were proof enough.

Though Sasha had taken a bit to get comfortable in a new bed, she’d fallen asleep without much issue once she settled. After only about two hours’ worth of sleep, Sy’s scream jolted her awake, startling her badly until her mind was able to make sense of what was happening. Wearing only the t-shirt she’d grabbed from his laundry and not bothering to put on the shorts, Sasha dashed across the hall, opening the door to find Syverson awake, but not at all present.

She’d never seen a man look so terrified in all her life, and while most would find it emasculating to be so scared, Sasha knew better. This was no ordinary fear; this was a haunting, one that had probably been with him for years. Her heart broke for him as she approached slowly, seeing the tears pouring from his blue eyes. 

“Sy, sweetheart. Can you hear me? You’re having a nightmare, babe. Wake up.” 

Being careful about where she stood, Sasha slowly reached out and smoothed a hand over Sy’s curls, willing that her touch would bring him back to reality. 

Her voice and touch, so calm and soft in the midst of all the violence and screaming in his mind, snapped Syverson out of his nightmare and he took a gasping breath, looking and seeing her as if for the first time. Shaking his head to clear it, Syverson quickly wiped his eyes and tried for a smile to assure her he was okay.

"Hey, sorry. Did I wake you? I'm really sorry," he whispered, sniffling as he opened his bedside drawer and grabbed the black leg brace he hadn’t needed in a few weeks. Syverson's hands shook violently as he strapped the appliance around his leg, everything in his posture screaming of fear. He needed his pills, but they were down the hall and that meant attempting to walk. Syverson felt like kicking himself for being so stupid; the first time he had company in ages and he forgot to prepare the most basic of necessities in order to keep the night quiet for them.

"You should go back to bed, mama. Get some rest. I'll be fine, just need to grab a glass of water, then I'm back to sleep," he added, his eyes pleading with her to accept the bold-faced lie; it was the only area of his life that Syverson ever hid from anyone and he was certain he'd be able to hide it from her as well.

Sasha didn’t wait for Sy to continue telling his version of the truth and instead grabbed his water glass and made her way to the upstairs bathroom, filling it up with ice-cold water straight from the tap. Despite feeling like she was overstepping her bounds, she searched through the medicine cabinet until she found a prescription bottle with a valid date and Sy’s name on it. Relieved that it was Tramadol and not something stronger, Sasha returned and handed both over to Sy, her eyes holding the same sadness his had earlier in the day. 

“You need anything else?” She asked, cupping his face with her hand and  trying to keep the hurt out of her voice. Sasha felt like a chump for opening up to him about her past when it was clear he was unwilling to do the same and felt the need to hide so bad that he would lie about it just to pretend all was okay. 

Her hand on his face caused a hitch in his breath, Syverson nearly losing his composure once again at the gentility of her touch. He fought tooth and nail not to lean into it, rest his head on her palm and just let go as she had earlier; he was a man, and a soldier to boot. Soldiers weren't supposed to cry and they certainly weren't supposed to talk about how they felt or what they'd seen and done in far away countries.

Sitting there with Sasha, Syverson felt like letting it all spill out, laying his soul bare, and facing the consequences head on. His brain got the best of him however, and he kept mum. No use in terrifying the poor girl; she'd done nothing to deserve hearing about the atrocities he'd witnessed and done overseas.

"N-no, you just go on back to bed. No use in stayin' awake on my account," he murmured, the words sounding almost like a mantra; in fact, he had said them on more than one occasion to his own family. They'd all just looked at him with sad eyes, shaken their heads, and left the room. Syverson wasn't sure, but it didn't seem like Sasha would be so easy to shoo off.

His further distancing only opened the fresh wound in Sasha’s heart a little further, making her feel miniscule and stupid for being as candid as she had. It was an age-old double standard, one she’d thought would bypass her interactions with Sy, given how open he’d been all day. Whatever it was that plagued him, the walls he’d built to protect himself were high and steadfast. Sighing, she stood, raking a hand through her hair as she met his gaze.

“If we’re going to pretend that this never happened, that you don’t look like you’ve seen a ghost, then fine. But don’t expect me to open up about anything else in my life, if you’re unwilling to do the same. I’m not a little girl, Sy. I can handle whatever it is you seem so keen to hide away from the world.” 

Turning on her heel, Sasha gripped her stomach, ignoring her baby’s kicking as she began to make her way back to bed, wishing Sy wasn’t so stubborn.

It was the same old song over again and frankly, Syverson was tired of being the one to press play. His face crumpled and he let out a sob without being able to hold it back. When he spoke, his voice came out tinny and weak, but the desperation in it was as clear as the word was simple.

"Sasha!"

Syverson hoped it was enough, hoped she'd turn back and let him apologize, let him give in a little and let go the way she had. It wasn't easy for him to relinquish the control he usually kept so tightly bound on the subject, but he'd seen how his pushing had hurt her and Syverson didn't want to be the reason she walked out the door in the morning, never to come back.

She’d never heard her name called with such need, such distress before, and it stopped Sasha in her tracks. Born with a touch of a stubborn streak herself, Sasha had only planned on standing in the doorway to hear him out, but one look at Syverson’s tear-strewn face, the pleading in his eyes, and she moved as though being pulled by a magnet, sitting at his side in a matter of moments, all thought of being bull-headed forgotten. 

Syverson's tears subsided as Sasha sat down, his eyes red-rimmed and still filled with fear as he took her hand and held it in both of his.

"I'm sorry. I'm not used to havin' people around, especially for this crap. It's not somethin' I like talkin' about and people don't like hearin' it, so I was tryin' to spare ya. Didn't mean to push you away, sweetheart," he sniffled, his thumbs rubbing circles over her knuckles before he kissed them gently.

“Were you dreaming about whatever happened that sent you to the VA? I saw the album downstairs,” Sasha confessed, her free hand stroking through his curls, her face dipping to catch his gaze as Sy lowered his head, shaking it.

“Nah, that was just an IED that I had the misfortune of drivin’ over. It’s why I still have a prescription and a rod in my leg,” he answered, Sy clearing his throat before shaking his head once more, clearing the persistent whispers from his mind that told him to shut up and not talk about it any further.

“My nightmares are only ever about one thing. One little girl, actually. Her name was Zakiya. She was the sweetest lil’ thing. Big bright eyes, so expressive, she just put a smile on yer face immediately.” 

Sitting back against his headboard, Sy held Sasha’s hand a little firmer, his own trembling, although whether from pain or anguish, Sasha couldn’t be sure. 

“We used to drive through her village every time we left the wire. Back then, we always carried candy bars and extra MREs with us, mostly for the kids, but for people in need too. She’d come running every time she saw us comin’ through, like we were the ice cream man or somethin’. Anyhow, she took a shine to me. Would always ask for me to hold her, ‘cause I was taller than anyone in the village and she liked seeing out over the horizon.” 

Sy blew out a breath, his body beginning to rock back and forth as tears shimmered in his eyes once more. Sasha’s concern grew, her other hand covering the one already gripped in her palm. 

“We didn’t speak a lick ‘a each other's languages, but we somehow made it work. She always had a smile and a big ol’ hug for my neck. She wouldn’t let go until it was time for us to move along and even then, she stayed behind wavin’ like it was her favorite thing to do. She couldn’t ‘a been more than five or six.

“One day, we get there and she’s not there, waitin’. Instead, she’s in her father’s arms. He was a village elder ‘a some sort, and for whatever reason, had got it in his head that his wife and Zakiya had both dishonored him by being nice to us. Just for being nice, friendly...normal. By the time we got there, he’d already killed his wife...But he was waitin’ for us to show up before he killed Zakiya.” 

Sasha’s own heart clenched, knowing what was coming would be horror on a level she never hoped to experience first-hand, her sympathy and respect for Syverson going up exponentially as she steeled herself for the end of his worst nightmare. 

Sy kept his eyes on the mattress, his free hand picking at a loose thread in the bedding, terrified that after he told her everything, Sasha would never see him as the same man again. 

“I got on my knees for that man. Took off my helmet, my plates, everything. Told him to take me instead of her. I begged like the world was endin’ and I needed one more day. Our poor interpreter could barely keep up with me, I was talkin’ so fast.”

Scrubbing a hand over his face, Syverson let out a noise akin to a dying animal, folding himself in half for a moment before taking several rattling, deep breaths. 

“You know that famous shot of Jackie trying to catch Kennedy’s brain? He dropped her like a fuckin’ sack ‘a potatoes after he blew her head open, and all I could do was h-hold-” 

As a longing wail loosed itself from his lungs, Sy felt himself wrapped up in the fiercest hug he’d ever received. Sasha cupped the back of his head as her own tears slipped down her cheeks, unable to fathom how Sy had managed to go about his life with that sort of weight in his heart; she’d known men who’d taken their own lives for less.

“I’m so sorry, Sy,” Sasha whispered into his curls, her heart breaking at the way Syverson clung to her as though he were drowning. In a way, he was, Sasha wishing there was more she could do to help ease his suffering, though she wasn’t sure if anyone had ever even gotten this far with him before. 

“What happened to the elder?” She asked as she heard his breathing calm some. 

“I emptied a mag into his face.” Sy said resolutely, Sasha hearing no remorse in his voice, though she couldn’t blame him, given the circumstances. 

“No one in the village ever complained, not even his older kids. Think they were all afraid of him. We did them a favor. You don’t kill kids. Especially babies. You give ‘em kindness, compassion, love. That’s it. End of story. You hurt a child, you murder a child in cold blood like that? I put you in the ground, plain and simple.”

She held onto him, stroking his broad back, carding her fingers through his hair, letting him take the pain he’d held onto for so long and finally let some of it go. Though she knew he’d never truly recover from that day, Sasha hoped that finally talking about it to someone who wouldn’t judge or pity him, would make a small difference. 

His breathing slowed and Sasha gave him another squeeze, realizing something she hoped would help ease his pain further.

“For what it’s worth, Sy? If nothing else, you brightened that little girl’s day each time you saw her. You gave her a smile just like she gave you one. You were with her at the end and that’s what counts. She didn’t die alone. In a perfect world, she wouldn’t have died at all, but in the horror that was her final moments, she knew you were there. She knew.”

#henry cavill #captain syverson #syverson x ofc #captain syverson fic #fic #deathonyourtongueoriginals #willow run

[tisfan]

The Works

Title: The Works Written by: @tisfan (3023) Square: R2 - Hydra Won (swapped square) Rating: Mature (for horror) Triggers/warnings: Tags: Hydra Won, ambiguous ending, incomplete Created for: @tonystarkbingo Word count: 2346 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23753566/chapters/59696779 Summary: It had been his last act, getting the sleep-pods onto the ship and launching it, the whole time, holding Hydra at bay, keeping her here, keeping her distracted. And then she’d struck, casting some evil magic over him, over--He couldn’t remember.

__________

¬░▒╛┐z░¬ date ┴╗╣⌐g__d morning soldier ▒¬º╖ç

The old AI wasn’t working. 

Which had been the plan, Barnes, get it together. 

The man above him -- well next to him now that Bucky had sat up -- was something like a vision. They exchanged names, greetings. The man. Tony. Had asked some questions.

Bucky’s lips were warm. Tingling. 

Tony had kissed him. To wake him up. To break the spell.

“Hydra won,” Bucky said. He wasn’t even sure he was speaking out loud, but he must have, because Tony was responding.

“That’s long since over,” Tony said. “There’s no Hydra anywhere in this sector.”

“She’s sleeping, because I was sleeping,” Bucky said. “I shut her down by shutting myself down. She might be back.”

“I didn’t see anyone else on this ship, except you and an awful lot of rabbits.”

“Rabbits?” Kobik had had some pet rabbits; a whole hutch of them. Part of the experiment. Could a space station become truly self-sufficient? The answer still looked like no, but some hutch and farm animals did function pretty well. There’d been goats at one time, too, but in the last days of the war, Bucky thought they’d all been eaten.

“They’re all over the place. My AI tells me they’re rabbits. I’ve never seen one, honestly.”

“Where th’ hell’d you grow up you ain’t never seen a rabbit,” Bucky wondered.

“I did mention the part about three hundred years, right?”

“Right, yeah,” Bucky said. “Uh, is there anything to eat?”

“There’s some mealpacks back at my ship,” Tony offered. “But unless your stuff is in permastore, I don’t think anything from here will be safe.”

“Water?”

Tony pulled out a canteen. That, at least, hadn’t changed much in form or function for centuries. Spout to put liquids in or to drink from, a standard filtration system, and a strap to carry it with. Why improve on something that was already perfect? Filters would, of course, adapt over time to whatever contaminants were in the water. “Human physiology hasn’t changed all that much,” Tony said. “I don’t think my filters will hurt you. But you have to be careful. Don’t drink from a Centurian’s canteen. They add in a lot of stims and endorphins to their water. Warrior race, but it gives the rest of us a twitchy stomach.”

“Good to know,” Bucky said. “How will I know who they are?”

“Don’t worry, they’ll usually tell you,” Tony joked. “They’re blue-skinned marsupials, with a red crown of-- head spikes, for lack of a better word.”

“Marsupials?”

“They carry their young around in a stomach pouch until they’re old enough to walk around. It’s a convenient arrangement,” Tony said. 

“Okay, then,” Bucky said. He took a few sips of Tony’s water and then returned it to him. The nanites in his system would filter anything harmful out, and if he could eat soon enough, would get him back to fighting fit. Otherwise, he might possibly go into a cyber coma. He didn’t see the need to alarm Tony just yet. It wasn’t urgent. “We can check the mess, see if there’s any supplements left. They won’t go bad.”

Worst case, he could probably chase down one of the rabbits and skin it for food. 

The whole station was both dead and alive at the same time. The hydroponics bay had escaped containment; there were vines and plants everywhere.

They’d probably grown, at least somewhat, in the remains of the dead. Bucky shuddered. 

The rabbit colony hopped in and out of the dense plant growth. Unafraid, and why would they be? A rabbit only lived nine or ten years. There had been generations of them, since they last saw humans.

“Did, uh, did the colony ship get away?” Bucky asked. 

It had been his last act, getting the sleep-pods onto the ship and launching it, the whole time, holding Hydra at bay, keeping her here, keeping her distracted.

And then she’d struck, casting some evil magic over him, over--

He couldn’t remember.

»£┼¬░▒-▒¿╟┼longing▒░┼╝º

“We never came across any ships from the Ring,” Tony said, as if apologizing, “but if you can give us mass and trajectory, I might be able to track it down for you.”

Sleep pods would last. If Bucky’s lasted, theirs would last.

He shook his head, wondering. Maybe they’d gotten out, maybe they’d gotten away. Away from Hydra, locked in her cold sleep with Bucky.

He wondered where she was.

She might still be on the station. He turned his gaze on Tony. That would be a strange form for her to take; Tony seemed sincere. But then, witches always seemed sincere, didn’t they?

“Sir, I’m reading some strange energy spikes in the station,” a voice said, coming from-- from Tony.

“My AI,” Tony said, as if apologizing. “Anything hazardous, Jay?”

“Not as yet, but you might want to consider retreating in the next few hours. Radiation levels are rising.”

“What’s the plan with the bunnies?” Tony asked. “Can we evacuate them to a planet?”

“I’ve already sent out a beacon pod, locating the station. Hopefully it will be able to float through the Ring, and broadcast from there.”

“Good job.”

“Of course, sir.”

“You’re worried about the wildlife?” Bucky asked, incredulous. Definitely not the witch, then. She wouldn’t have cared about the life of a bug, beast, or boy.

“They’re alive,” Tony said. “There’s no point in killing them. We’ve got biologists back on the various Initiative ships that can relocate them somewhere that they won’t be an invasive species. Well, technically, they’ll be invasive, but a careful selection will make sure they will fit in with the local ecosystem. Worst comes to worst, we can sell them as pets and novelties on Knowhere Station.”

“We do have cargo space in the lower deck,” JARVIS pointed out, “if you’re not planning to salvage much.”

“Salvage, right,” Tony said, snapping his fingers. “I got so carried away by Sleeping Beauty here that I forgot I was looking for valuables. What say you, hot stuff? You got anything worth selling on this floating coffin? Split it with you, 50/50.”[]

¥ƒ▀¥▒╜┼┼pжавыйÉ»¥┼╟╞─rusted▒╗▓

Bucky shook his head. “I think it’s all salvage now, rules of the drift,” he said. “Do you have policy in place for survivors?”

Back in his day, anyone found on the drift in space -- hypersleep accidents happened often enough that people could outlive their assets, their grandkids, their governments -- that some effort was made to track down any remaining property, they got a six month high intensity sleep-learning degree, and sent off into the world with a small stipend.

Bucky’d known a couple of them. Steve Rogers had done a Big Sleep, seventy years or more. Gone to sleep as a Private, cook’s assistant during the war and woke up as a Captain through time in rank.

Strange thing, really. 

“You might be considered the longest standing prisoner of war,” Tony said. “Not that it matters, there’s a fortune to be had on this station. Split it with me, you won’t have to worry about it. This is all approved salvage. I have a license.”

He knew his way around the station, even with the plants and the rabbits. The rabbits were freaking him out a little; they kept following-- sticking their curious noses out of the underbrush. He wondered how they’d lived so long. Usually life support shut down when no one was breathing it.

Which meant Hydra had to be on the station somewhere.

“Why split it with me, then?” Bucky wondered. “License for salvage, you don’t need to--”

“Because I may be an asshole a lot of the time,” Tony said, “but I am not one hundred percent a dick.”

╜£Éëδ╗»╟┼╞─┬┴seventeen╜╝╗▒»▒┼

“If you want,” Bucky said. They finally made it to the messhall, and the sub-freeze was still reading green, so Bucky used his thumb print to open it. “I can recon some of these food packs.”

“You call this stuff food,” Tony said, incredulously. “You, my friend, you have been suffering. Recon has come so far since your day. Jay, can you dish up a four course for us?”

“Of course, sir,” JARVIS said. 

“What’s considered a high value item?” Bucky wondered, picking out a few recon packs. He added water to the cooker, stuffed the packet in the slot and watched as the not-particularly interesting, but high calorie, high vitamin cereal poured itself into a reusable cup. The spoons were a little iffy, so Bucky added more water, and then drank it as a gruel. Yuck, but it would keep his systems intact for a while longer. Just a little while longer.

He just needed to know what happened to Hydra.

Where was she?

Not in the messhall, that was for sure.

Tony was still running down a list of items -- elements that could be repurposed. Titanium, protactinium, thorium. They’d had those in ample supply at one point. Potable water, preferably in ice form, which was easier to tow. 

“Wait, what was that last thing?”

“Etherium gas,” Tony said. “Might as well as for unobtainium, or wishalloy.”

“What, why?”

“As far as we know, stable etherium is a fantasy,” Tony said. “We’ve got plausible theories, but no one’s ever gotten a hold of the stuff before. I was spinning castles in space.”

“Um.”

╟S│ªS▒»░▒O1█┼daybreak▒»╟╗╣╕ë

“We have a tankful, at least,” Bucky said, “if nothing’s changed. That’s what we were mining, here--”

Tony was staring at him as if he’d said the moon really was made from green cheese.

“A-- let me get this straight. A tank. How much is in a tank?”

“It’s not really my department,” Bucky said, “but last I checked, about twenty thousand gallons of liquid etherium.”

Tony stopped moving, he seemed to stop breathing.

“I think we just became the richest men in the galaxy,” he said, finally. “Show me where this tank of yours is. Can we detach it for hauling?”

Bucky nodded. It was the gas, he thought. That attracted Hydra. She’d come because of the gas, and they’d fought her over the gas.

Witch.

Monster.

╟╗▒░ªÜfurnace▒»½▒╟┼╣

“Tony--” Bucky said, reaching out his hand. He caught hold of the other man’s wrist. “The gas--”

“Perfectly safe, cupcake,” Tony said. “We’ll make sure there’s no leaks, then we can just haul it away. Easy peasy, nice and cheesy.”

Bucky was pretty sure the phrase didn’t go that way.

And it wasn’t safe.

If Hydra was still on the station, that would be where she was.

Hibernating, maybe.

Or just waiting. Lurking. 

He wanted to speak, it was like he’d forgotten the words, and so instead of saying anything, he just turned and led Tony deeper into the station. Down into the Works, the mag-engines and the hydropods, the storage and the plumbing, the fuel cells. It was dark there, wet and heavy somehow. The plant life stopped, which wasn’t surprising, and while there were a few rabbits down this deep, they didn’t seem… normal.

Mutations, perhaps.

Bucky shuddered the thought away.

Tony had said he’d sent out a beacon.

Help-- someone could help them.

Maybe someone would come.

I don’t have to run faster than Hydra, I just have to run faster than you.

Not true, and everyone knew it. Hydra was so fast. She was there before you even knew it. She wasn’t a sight, or something to touch. A witch, some sort of presence.

“Here,” Bucky said. “This is the shut off station. We’ll need to disconnect, and run diagnostics. That can take a few hours--”

“Don’t worry, Jarvis is already in the works, he’s a lot faster than your old systems,” Tony said. “We’ll be on our way back to civilization before you’re even sleepy.”

╟»▒░½Ü¢Ö▒»╟┼nine┼»Q▒»░▒╟┼

“Do you hear something,” Bucky said. He took a few steps down toward-- he didn’t even know. Something was down there. Calling him. Like a magnet that he was too pinlike to resist. A flame, to draw away a moth. It would burn him up, and he knew it, but he could not--

“Hey!” Tony’s hand was hard on his wrist, the fingernails biting lightly into his skin. “Hey, Bucky. You okay?”

“No, I don’t think I am,” Bucky said.

“Jay, how’s it look?”

“You may come back to the ship at any time, sir,” JARVIS said. “I can handle the disconnect from here.”

“Gotta be sleep-shock,” Tony was saying, “I’m so sorry, you seemed okay, let me just--”

Tony was leading him away. 

Away from answers.

Away from--

▒┼╟╗╦Ñ▒»╟benign▒┼╫D░▒½¬

“It’s all right, you don’t have to do anything else, I’ve got you,” Tony said.

And he did. Somehow, this man was… carrying Bucky. Like he was a sleepy child. Bucky blinked.

“Nanites,” Tony said. “They’re pretty amazing. I know you had ‘em back in your day, my scans show you’ve got some yourself. I think there’s something interfering with yours, though. Maybe they’re just old. We can do a filter, get you fixed up. It’s all right, just let me take care of you.”

That was nice, somehow. The idea of just letting go. Of letting Tony take care of things. Letting him take care…

Of Hydra.

Would it even be possible? That the witch could be defeated by something as simple and small as human technology?

“Jay, get me a stretcher, would you, buddy?” 

Bucky couldn’t see anything; everything was getting cold, frozen. His eyelids were frozen shut. Winter--

Winter was coming.

The winter. 

He remembered climbing into the sleeppod, knowing she was right behind him, knowing--

He’d known something, once. 

What was it--

▒┼╟»ª╣╝»homecoming▒»╣¥╝¡☺”

Static in his head, like snow. Freezing. He was so cold. Tony’s hands were on him, but he couldn’t see, and if Tony was talking, he couldn’t hear it.

She was coming.

Hydra was coming. 

They’d woken her up, somehow, and she was on her way to claim him.

“You need to run,” Bucky said, hoping Tony could hear him. That he could do something. Anything.

Live.

Run.

Run.

▒»╟┼┴▒½¡╝one▒ªñªú┼╝│

“Tony, run--”

“Freight car.”

Bucky closed his eyes and went away.

The Winter Soldier was here.

“Hail Hydra.”

A/n - @27dragons wouldn’t let me post this until everything was resolved, so, I have written 2 more chapters and I will post them in the next 2 weeks or so.

#tonystarkbingo2020 #winteriron #horror #space bunnies #not mutually exclusive #apparently

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Daniel Michaelson: The Party

Anonymous said:                                                                            Junior executive of the company purposefully setting off Danny to see what happens! Mwahahahaha

This was requested and I put it together! I can’t remember who asked me for this any longer, though. Who was it? IDENTIFY YOURSELF so I can tag you!

CW: Implied/referenced past noncon and violence, forced drinking, Trevor Corey is a dick to a trauma victim, PTSD/trauma flashback, emotional abuse (at the end)

Tagging my people: @special-spicy-chicken, @bleeding-demon-teeth, @spiffythespook

Timeline: Just before The Lucky Ones

“Do you remember me?”

Danny blinks, startled by the loudness of the voice so close by him. His grip tightens on the glass in his hand - rum, St. Germain, lemon juice, and sugar. Little edible sugar violet that had floated on top at first, but Danny ate that. Ryan hadn’t said a word about him drinking flower drinks again, only ordered himself his usual rum and coke and slipped back to the party with a wink.

Danny shouldn’t be here. He doesn’t belong here anymore, with these people - he never did. But Mom and Dad wanted him here, wanted to make a show of family unity.

Like there’d ever been any.

Still, they’d had dinner catered and paid for a bartender and Danny had put on the suit that used to be tailored and now was loose everywhere but his shoulders, even though he’d put some weight back on since he came home. Nate wasn’t here, though - the whole thing about him being at this party was that if Danny agreed to show up and wear his suit and be the dutiful returned long-lost son, they’d give him more money for Nate to go to speech therapy, too, to try and shake the stammer or at least control it.

It was the only way Nate would agree to think about trying to teach again, and Danny would do anything to help Nate start back on building a foundation.

So here he is, at a company party in his parents’ house, trying not to feel his skin crawl with the memory of the way Corrine had kept a hand on his back while reintroducing him to people who hadn’t seen him since a year before he went missing.

Danny had come in and carefully ignored the framed photos in the entryway, family photos, photos of Danny and Ryan as children, the blown-up photos from the People article about his adoption. Michaelson Logging CEO Finds New Purpose With Growing Brood: ‘Family is Really the Most Important Thing in the World’.

Danny had never met the aunt whose startlingly public meltdown and disappearance had been the reason he was adopted. Neither had Ryan - Kells Michaelson, Patrick’s younger sister, might as well have vanished off the face of the earth, although she still sent Christmas cards with no return address.

Wait.

Did he just remember that?

Danny felt a hint of a proud smile on his face, before the hard-edged voice interrupted him again. 

“Hey, are you even listening to me? I’m talking to you. You really are a fucking space cadet now, huh?” The voice is a little annoyed, ragged at the edges, and Danny turns to look at who spoke to him and freezes.

Pale blonde hair, blue eyes, pale skin, a flash of white teeth in a smile above a perfectly tailored suit.

(don’t tell me you’ve forgotten me, puppy)

No

(you haven’t been very good for me, have you?)

No no no

(even if I did let you go, I could be anywhere, at any time, you’d never be free)

No, please no

(don’t you ever fucking forget that you’re mine)

In the time it takes for his eyes to widen and his heart to start hammering inside his chest, he realizes it’s not Abraham at all. Abraham Denner is in prison, he thinks, reminds himself, chants inside his head like an incantation. It’s not him, not at all. Younger, his own age, with darker honeyed blonde hair and the eyes are a much deeper, darker blue. Nothing moves beneath the waters.

His skin’s pale, but it’s no paler than Danny’s, less freckled, still perfectly human. The man’s face isn’t eerily pretty like Abraham’s, but has a stronger jaw, a narrower mouth. At first he can’t remember who it is, but then his eyes light on the white teeth and Danny’s brain kicks up dust and supplies the white teeth are veneers, they cost Johnson Corey a pretty penny and were a birthday present for Trevor’s seventeenth birthday.

Trevor. That’s who it is, Trevor Corey.

Trevor Corey has hated Daniel Michaelson his whole fucking life, for reasons Danny never understood, and he’s staring right at him, now.

“T-Trevor,” Danny manages, his voice a little hesitant, shaking a little harder than he intends. Trevor’s smile widens at the recognition, and he holds up his own glass - just two fingers of whiskey, neat - and Danny’s hand moves without him, clinking the glasses together.

Cheers, now what the fuck do you want?

(don’t be rude, puppy)

I’m sorry, I’ll be good

“You do remember me. They said your memory’s fucked all to hell from the blows to the head.” Trevor looks away from him, down the hall and through the doorway at the crowd in the great big dining room. Most of the executives are in the far corner talking animatedly about something that just happened in Japan, while the executive kids (Trevor and Danny being the oldest, the other two dozen or so filtering down year by year to the youngest, little Nathalie - how do I remember all of this but I forgot that I owned a laptop before Abraham found me?) are scattered around the room chatting.

Ryan’s nowhere to be seen - studiously avoiding a group of people that he keeps reminding Danny are his ex’s family and Danny doesn’t remember a single one of them - and Danny feels a curl of nervous fear up his spine.

Alone alone alone.

Ryan’s just going to go outside for a second and be right back, Danny reminds himself. He’ll be right back for you, don’t move from this spot. You used to know this house but you don’t know anything now, you’ll get lost in the hallways by yourself.

Don’t move from this spot.

Stay, puppy.

(that’s my good boy, you’re so good at ‘stay’ now, aren’t you? oh, but see the pretty bruises on your knees)

“I have some, um, my, uh… Dr. Rosa thinks it’s trauma-based memory repression, not, um… not from the concussions,” Danny mutters, more into his drink than to Trevor. “They come back sometimes. Better now.”

He had a dim sense that he’d known his own birthdate for a few hours this morning, the way you just knew things like that. It was gone now - but he thought it would probably come back. Maybe.

If it didn’t, Ryan and Nate would just keep reminding him.

He’d be… whatever the next age was soon enough. Maybe he’d remember that one.

“Glad to hear it,” Trevor replies. He’s close to Danny, too close, and Danny tries to take a quick step back only for his back to bump into the wall, next to one of the large houseplants Corrine kept pretty much everywhere, the ferns and green leaves that grew glossy and dark and silky for her.

Danny had always managed to kill any houseplant he tried to keep alive, even the aloe - oh my god, I remembered the aloe plant.

“So what are you up to these days?” Trevor’s voice, impossibly, is even closer, and Danny swallows hard as the shorter man leans in. His shoulders are hunching, he can’t seem to stop them, and before long they’re nearly the same height. Danny clutches his drink like a life raft.

“I’m, um. I’m at home a lot,” Danny manages. He should tell Trevor to fuck off but he can’t, he’s not that Danny any longer. “I go to, um, to therapy and practice… going out. Sometimes. Trevor, can you, um, can you back up a little bit?”

His voice cracks a little on the question and he sees a light in Trevor’s eyes that he knows all too well. A burst of interest and fascination, and it’s not tempered by concern, not at all.

The scars on Danny’s face suddenly burn as if they’re brand new, like Abraham is shoving the muzzle onto his face right now, while he stands in the corner in a hallway in his own childhood home and Trevor Corey is way too close.

“Do you not like people to stand too close to you, Michaelson?” Trevor’s eyebrows raise, and he leans in even further, taking a sip from his own glass. Danny’s eyes dance to the side and then back, but he’s blocked off by Corrine’s plant, the people in the dining room probably can’t even see him, just Trevor, closer and closer.

Too close.

Too close too close too close

(do you get to choose, puppy? do you get to choose who touches you, ever again?)

“No,” Danny whispers, and the word feels foreign and forbidden on his tongue, coming out of his mouth. He’s not allowed to say no, ever again - but he is allowed to say no, they talked about this in therapy and Nate and Ryan tell him all the time. “No, I, um, I don’t like people to get very close to me now-”

“Why is that?” Trevor raises an eyebrow, and there’s a smirk playing across his face. Danny wants to punch him, to beat the shit out of that stupid smug fucking face he’s had to put up with his entire life - but Red is too scared and Red is sometimes louder than Danny.

“He, uh, he got… he got in my face a lot. I just. Trevor, back off, okay?” He starts out strong, he thinks, but then his voice wavers and breaks again, and he tries to curl his spine, make himself smaller. He could just walk away. He could - just stand up and walk the fuck away. He grew up in this house, even if he can’t remember it any longer, even if the layout is hiding down inside his head with all the things the past four years buried.

He can walk away from this.

But Danny’s legs won’t move, and when Trevor sets his drink down on a nearby little table covered in framed photos of Corrine, Patrick, and Ryan, Danny doesn’t do anything but watch, hear the soft thunk of the glass on the wood, and stare as Trevor turns back to him.

“I heard you flipped your shit at Starbucks a couple weeks ago,” Trevor says conversationally, and leans his hand on the wall, boxing Danny in totally between the plant and Trevor. The condensation coming off of Danny’s drink makes his fingers cold and slippery and he grips the glass as tightly as he can. “Friend of mine was there and told me all about it. Said some girls took pictures of your face.”

Danny’s breath catches and he stares at something over Trevor’s shoulder, feeling the cold slowly wash down from the top of his head, trickling through him, slipping under his skin and into his veins, all the way down to is feet.

“They said you ran to the bathroom with your brother and that friend of yours right on your heels. I have to admit - I’m so interested in what happened in that bathroom, especially since apparently the barista blocked the whole fucking hallway off to keep everyone out. Then, you come out a few minutes later - led out to the car by your friend like a little kid who threw a tantrum - and your brother tips the store a hundred dollar bill. What’d you do, Danny-man?”

I don’t remember. I don’t remember anything after I realized they were looking at me, looking at my scars.

“I hate that fucking nickname.” He manages to get the words out, but they’re small, barely a whisper. The room is getting colder around him. There’s a wisp of fingers through his hair, a murmured (who’s being such a good boy today?) and Danny makes himself take a breath.

Inhale.

My name is Daniel Michaelson.

“You know what, I want to know-”

Hold for five.

“-was it taking the pictures that got you all flustered, or that they were of your fucked-up face?”

His breath stops, caught in his throat, and he can’t remember how the rest of it goes. All he can remember is and I’m the puppy and I want to be good.

Danny’s eyes drift, focus on the wall opposite him, where he can see a photo of himself, a sophomore in college at Ryan’s high school graduation. His hair was cut shorter then, and he’d tried to calm the waves and you could almost see how stiff his hair was with product.

“I don’t, um, I don’t like people looking at my face,” He mumbled, looking at himself, younger, half-smiling at the camera in a deep black T-shirt and jeans, an arm around Ryan who is smiling next to him in his cap and gown, holding his diploma up in the air like a trophy.

I went to a concert later that night. I got so stoned I could barely think, hooked up with somebody. I didn’t know, I didn’t know that I only had a couple of years left. No one told me.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t, either, if I looked like that.”

Danny felt Trevor’s hands close over his around the glass in his hand. “What are you, um-… Trev, you hate me,” Danny whispers, his throat is going to close and he can feel it, can feel the bite of the leather around his neck, the way the little tag bumps against his collarbone sometimes, glinting RED in the sunlight in the clearing…

“Yeah,” Trevor says softly. “And I’ve always wanted to see snobby stuck-up fucking Daniel fucking Michaelson brought down a peg or two without his little brother to nose his way into shit that’s none of his business.”

“Trevor, you have to move, I really need you to, um, to give me space, to stop touching me-”

“No.” Trevor leans in just a little further, his mouth nearly against Danny’s ear. No one can see him behind his mother’s stupid fucking houseplants. No one’s in this hallway. He can hear them talking, just down the hall, but he can’t get enough voice to ask for help.

Ryan, Mrs. Verona… Dad… Mom, even, just somebody, please

(do you get to decide what happens to this body now?)

No, Abraham, no, you decide, you decide what happens now, it’s yours

(who does this body belong to?)

Yours, Abraham, it’s your body, you can make it do whatever you want

Danny’s fingers try to let go of the glass, but Trevor’s are closed too tightly over them and when the rim is tilted up to his lips, Danny opens his mouth and lets Trevor pour the sweet cocktail straight down his throat.

He manages to swallow nearly all of it but some runs down the corner of his mouth, down to his throat, cold liquid warming to his skin.

“Jesus fucking Christ, look at you,” Trevor breathes against his cheek, into his ear. Danny’s heart races, too fast, it can’t beat this fast or Abraham will know, he’ll get mad, he’ll get so mad and then he’ll be in trouble, he’ll be punished. “You’re such a fucking mess now, Michaelson. You used to tell me to fuck off every time you saw me and now you just stand here like a pretty little doll. Did he fuck you up in those woods, Danny-man? That’s what our guy in the courtroom said. The Coreys had someone there every day to see what your dad didn’t want us to know about, but we found out, didn’t we?”

“Yes,” Danny says softly, because that’s a rule. Always answer Abraham’s questions. Abraham always knows when you’re lying.  

“Guess we know why Patrick Michaelson stopped talking about his sons inheriting the company and he only talks about the one now, even though Danny came back from the dead, huh?”

My name is Red.

(I’ll call you anything I want, puppy)

Trevor laughs, tipping the very last drops of Danny’s drink into his mouth. He takes them, he’s good, and Abraham likes to make him drink this way. Danny finds some dim part of him wondering what he’s put in the drink this time, and hopes it’s the stuff that makes him feel good first.

There’s a chuckle - it’s not quite right, it doesn’t shake through him the same way. “We found out that that Denner fucker went up there on the stand and he told everybody how good you are now…”

(don’t you want to be good for me, Red?)

Blue eyes turn to colorless ice in his mind. He sees the monster underneath.

He looks up into Abraham’s eyes. “I am good,” Danny replies, automatically, hearing the edge of a whine in his voice. “I want to be good.”

When Abraham picks the glass of brown liquor up from a small table behind him where it was sitting next to a houseplant, puts Danny’s empty glass down next to it, his eyes follow the movements but he doesn’t move.

It’s not his body, any longer, and Abraham will tell him what to do.

“Drink,” Abraham says, and Danny leans his head forward, moves his mouth to rest at the rim of the glass, and it’s bourbon - it’s bourbon Abraham wants him to drink now. Warmth in his shoulders, burning in his throat. He’ll get to feel good, first, this time.

It’s not so bad, then.

“Oh, you’re fucking gone, now,” Abraham says with delight. There’s still something wrong, something off, but Danny can’t figure out what and his brain moves like mush. He’s struggling under the weight of obedience - he shouldn’t think. He can’t think. If he thinks, he’ll break a rule. Instead, he drinks the rest of the bourbon sip by sip, and feels the world go warm around its edges, while Abraham watches the flush rise in his face, covering over the scars until they nearly look pale in comparison. “Hey, what’ll you do, like this? Shit, I gotta tell someone, I’ve waited my whole fucking life to see your bullshit torn down like this…”

Abraham pulls out his phone - it’s not the one Danny remembers, the black case with the bumpy ridges. This one is camouflage-patterned and something in him knows that’s not right, that’s not what Abraham’s phone looks like. He takes a picture of Danny’s wide blue eyes, dazed and fogged over and frightened, with the glass still pressed against his bottom lip, with the last little bits of brown liquor on his tongue.

“Now that photo I’ll keep close to home,” Abraham says. “That’s for my collection. I wonder if I could find some of the ones they talked about in court, they said that shit put them on the internet… Whatever. Let’s see what else I can get you to do.” He sets the glass back down on the table, empty now, and Danny feels the two drinks, back to back, settling into his veins, fogging the world around him.

“Anything,” Danny says. He knows how this one goes, what feeding him drinks means. He puts his wrists together and holds them up in front of himself at chest level. Sometimes if he guesses what Abraham wants to do, if he’s right, he gets hurt less for being good that way, too. “I, I can do anything you want, Abraham. I want to be good for you.”

“Oh, shit.” Abraham goes still, staring at him. “Is that what this is? You think I’m him now? Oh man. This is even better than I-”

“Trevor Corey, what are you doing with my son?”

Her voice. Danny hears the sudden snap of disappointed irritation and feels his brain click back into place, dropping his hands back down to his sides. Trevor steps back and away from him - not Abraham, it was Trevor the whole time, it was never Abraham - and Danny swallows hard as he sees his mother standing in the hallway, arms crossed, in her black cocktail dress and pearls.

For just a second, he thinks his mother’s eyes are glowing.

And purple.

“Mrs. Michaelson.” Trevor smooths down his suit along the front, clears his throat, standing nervously. “I was just talking to Danny-”

“You were bothering him. Go rejoin your father in the dining room.” When Trevor hesitates, some part of him bristling at being spoken to like a child when he is a grown man, Corrine’s eyes narrow. Not glowing at all. “I said go, Trevor.”

“Mrs. Michaelson, I was only-”

“I know what you were doing to him. I saw you take a photo of his face, and I saw what you did with your drink. You will not push my son any further tonight or you will find yourself regretting every moment from your birth until this second. I’ve changed your diapers, you know. Don’t think you intimidate me for one single solitary moment. Go find Johnson and hope to God I decide not to tell him what I just caught you at.”

When she points down the hall, Trevor shoots a glare full of hate at Danny, but he goes.

Only when he’s gone does Corrine turn her eyes back to her son, who stares back at her wide-eyed, uncertain, feeling suddenly weighed-down and exhausted. “Are you all right, Danny?”

Danny swallows, hard - he can still feel the liquor, the buzz in the back of his mind, making it all feel a little bit smooth and strange. Slowly, he nods, stepping away from the wall, crossing his arms in front of himself and hunching over just a little. “I’m okay,” He says, softly, voice a little shaky. “I’m okay, Mom.”

“Did he hurt you?” Corrine looks him over brusquely, brushes at his shoulder, ignoring the way he shudders a little at the sudden touch. “Do you need to lie down?”

“N-No. I’m, um, I’m fine. Can I… do you know where Ryan is?”

She stops mid-motion, picking a bit of lint off his sleeve. Her eyes go to his - the odd honey-colored amber eyes that she and Ryan had in common. Why had he thought they were purple? Was that part of his flashback somehow? “He went up to his room, dear. I think he got a call from, well, you know who.”

“Oh. His ex called?”

“Yes, well, I assume, since he didn’t want me to overhear it.” Corrine steps back to look at him again, and something in the hard lines of her face gentles, just a bit. “Oh, Danny. What are we going to do about all of this, hm?”

Danny’s eyes drop to the floor. He feels fourteen, not… however old he is now. Twenty-something, at least. “I don’t know, Mom. I’m… I’m so sorry. I’ve been better. I don’t know what happened. I’ll try harder.”

“Hush. That wasn’t your fault. That wasn’t anyone’s fault.” Corrine’s hand pats the side of his face, and Danny is so good, he doesn’t even flinch. “Go upstairs and find your brother. I’ll let Dad know you’ll be heading home in the next few minutes once Ryan is done with his phone call, how does that sound? We’ll keep this between us. No one tells anyone, understood?”

“Sure, I, I won’t tell anybody-”

“Don’t tell your brother.” Corrine’s voice drops into seriousness and Danny blinks at her confused. “I know you two tell each other everything - you’ve always been inseparable - but he’ll only kick up a mess if he finds out Trevor acted that way. And we don’t need that sort of hostility at the company, do we? Over a little misunderstanding?”

“A… a what?”

“Trevor just didn’t understand what he was doing, did he?”

“M-Mom, he fed me my drink, he-”

“He’s always had a thing for you. Clearly he drank too much tonight and made a mistake, that’s all. Go find your brother and don’t tell him anything.” When Danny hesitates, Corrine sighs. “Right. I forgot. Go upstairs, Ryan’s room is the third one on the right. Yours is the fourth. I need to get back to the party. Will you be all right, Danny?”

“Um. Yeah, Mom. I’ll be, I’ll be fine.”

“Good.” She pats him on the back, and he digs his fingernails into his palms to keep himself from pulling away. “Thank you, darling. You’re so different now that you’ve come back to us… It’s odd, isn’t it?”

“Is it?” Danny asks, because he doesn’t really remember who he used to be, before.

“You went through all of that horror… and you came back sweeter. People will always surprise you.” Corrine shrugs and waves him away, turning herself to head back for the dining room.

Danny stands staring after her for a long time before he looks around himself, down the hall, and tries to remember where the stairs are.

Like hell he won’t tell Ryan.

He’ll go upstairs and tell Ryan everything.

Assuming he still remembers any of it by the time he figures out how to get upstairs.

#Daniel Michaelson's story #daniel michaelson is a tall smol bean #Corrine Michaelson is a bad mom #and also more than that #request fulfilled! #whump #recovering whumpee #broken whumpee #recovery whump #tw: trauma flashback #tw: implied/referenced past noncon #intimate whumper #creepy whumper #bystander whumper #whumpee can't catch a break

[ghostsray]

@wastefulreverie helped me write a fic (i wrote the story, and she edited my shitty writing into something good) based on a prompt @dannyphantomisameme came up with in the pbs server

basic summary: wes gets captured by the giw (TW: implied vivisection)

word count: 4591

___

By Danny’s standards, it was a normal day. And by ‘normal’ that entailed battling a large, snarling ghost wolf in the middle of Amity Park Park. But it was fine. After a year of experience, he was getting good at these daily fights, and the wolf provided no challenge for him. He captured the ghost with little difficulty, and the bystanders who were watching erupted into cheers. Well, most of them anyway.

“Fenton!”

At the exclamation, Danny reflexively turned his head. Realizing his mistake, he immediately regretted his decision. Wes Weston, smug as always, was standing behind him. Wes turned to the crowd and pointed out, “See? He responded to his name. He’s Fenton!”

For a split second Danny worried that they might listen to him, but fortunately, his worries seemed to be pointless. On cue, the crowd groaned and collectively rolled their eyes. Paulina put her hands on her hips. “Really, Wes?” She spoke with enough expertise to deny his claim since she always watched Phantom’s battles.

With wide eyes, Wes sputtered, “But—come on, that was solid proof!”

“Right,” Paulina dragged out. “Just because he happened to turn his head in your general direction when you happened to say a name that happened to be Danny Fenton’s last name.”

The fury on Wes’s face was almost comical. He gestured again at Danny and yelled, “He literally looks the same!”

A mischievous smile crawled onto Danny’s face. His voice carried a mocking tone when he spoke, “Gee, Wes, I don’t know.” Floating closer to the boy, he placed a hand under his chin and pretended to inspect the red-headed teen. “I mean, you look kinda similar to me, too.”

Dash laughed, lightly elbowing Paulina. When it came to watching Phantom’s fights, he did his best to accompany her. “I bet Wes is Phantom, and he’s just trying to frame Danny to keep his secret!” the jock conceived.

The steam out of Wes’s ears was nearly visible. “Seriously?” he seethed. He held out his arms Will Smith-style toward Danny and shouted, “How can I be Phantom if he’s right here?!”

“Duplication, duh,” Sam suggested. She and Tucker had been observing the entire exchange, straining to stifle their laughter.

Wes growled and grabbed a fistful of his hair. “Whatever, I’m leaving!” he decided. He fled from the park, ignoring the snickers from the crowd.

Phantom gave one last heroic wave to his audience before he vanished from the visible spectrum. A few feet away, no one noticed the flash of light behind a nearby tree, nor when Danny Fenton stepped out beside it. He joined his friends and watched the crowd disperse.

Once they were out of earshot, Sam was the first to speak. “Do you ever feel bad, bullying Wes like that?” she asked. The three friends met eyes for a moment. Breaking the tension, they all burst into laughter.

“As if,” Tucker choked. “That guy deserves it.”

Swallowing his laughter, Danny straightened himself. “Anyway, I’m sure Wes will be fine,” he pointed out. It’s not like Wes was in danger or anything, he was just… a jerk. Danny wouldn’t joke about it if it was actually serious. As it stood, the worst thing that came out of Wes’s wild accusations was some mockery from his classmates.

Danny grinned, kicking his shoes against the sidewalk. “So,” he gestured to his left, “Nasty Burger?”

Sam and Tucker murmured in agreement and the trio finally exited the park. On their way to the restaurant, they passed a bulky white van, but none of them thought much of it. It was just a white van; it wasn’t peculiar or anything.

The next day, Wes didn’t come to school.

Nobody really cared. Wes was known to cut class everyone now and then. Since adopting his obsession with Danny, he spent so many nights plotting Danny’s grand exposure that he either overslept or simply forgot about school.

Everyone simultaneously decided to enjoy this Wes-free time; any break from having his conspiracy theories shoved down their throats was welcome. Tucker even joked that this was like a vacation for them. The day passed, and Wes remained absent, but nobody thought much about it. People missed school all the time! He must have gotten sick or something.

With all his other problems, Danny easily put Wes out of his mind… until later that night. He’d finally managed to find some time to do homework (for once) when Jazz inevitably interrupted his study-time. She entered his room with a knock and held out a phone, gesturing for him to take it.

“Someone wants to speak with you,” she told him. Danny furrowed his brows. The only people that ever called him were Sam and Tucker... and they only called his cellphone.

He spun his desk chair around and accepted the phone. Before putting it to his ear, he asked Jazz, “Who is it?”

Jazz shrugged. “Some adult. He says his son is your friend.”

The only person Danny could think of was Tucker’s dad (Sam’s dad would be caught dead before talking to him). So why would Tucker’s dad be calling him? Doing little to filter his confusion, Danny raised the phone to his ear and answered it. He was taken aback when he realized that he wasn’t talking to Maurice Foley; it was Walter Weston—Wes’s dad.

“Hi, uh,” Walter started, “have you talked to Wes today?”

Danny thoughtlessly shook his head, then realized Walter couldn’t see him. “No?” Danny replied apprehensively. “He didn’t come to school today. Why?”

He heard rustling on Walter’s end of the call and assumed that he was pacing back and forth. “He’s not home. I haven’t seen him… not since yesterday. Out of everyone, I thought you might know something since he’s…”

“Obsessed with me?” Danny completed.

Walter hesitated, “… yeah.”

And suddenly, despite not caring about Wes, Danny was worried. Wes wasn’t the type to run from anything, especially away from home. And if he’s been missing since yesterday, then it was logical to believe that something must have happened….

But Danny didn’t have the faintest idea where Wes might be. He bit his lip and told Walter, “I’m sorry. I don’t know anything.”

Walter sighed, obviously disappointed. “That’s fine. Just… call me if you see him.”

The line was hung, and Danny tried to go back to his homework, but he found it hard to concentrate. He tried telling himself that Wes was fine, and that he probably slept over at some fellow conspiracy theorist’s place or something. Still, that night when he patrolled the city for ghosts, he made sure to keep his eyes out for any red-haired teen. He didn’t find Wes.

The next day, Wes was still absent. Like before, everyone else at school didn’t mind. Heck, nobody really even noticed. Those who had picked up on Wes’s disappearance had decided that he was sick and was spending his days at home. But Danny knew that wasn’t the case—not after his phone call with Walter.

“So you think Wes is missing?” Sam asked. They were sitting at their usual table in the cafeteria. He couldn’t hold it in anymore and had told her and Tucker about Walter’s call.

“He hasn’t been home for almost two days now. What else could it be?” Danny replied and ran a hand through his hair.

“Maybe he…” Tucker paused, trying to think of a good reason for Wes to spend two days away from home. He came up dry. “Okay, fine, maybe it’s a little concerning.”

Danny picked at his nails anxiously. “What if something bad happened to him because of me?”

Sam crossed her arms. “You mean because he chose to spend his time trying to expose you?” she pointed out with a defensive tone.

“Well, yeah…” Danny amended, “but I still feel kind of responsible.” He stared straight ahead, looking between the A-List and geek tables. “Remember that time he followed Skulker into the Ghost Zone to go after me?”

“You think Wes might be in the Ghost Zone?” Tucker wondered.

Danny shrugged. “It’s possible. Otherwise, someone would’ve found him already.”

“So… what?” Sam figured. “You’re gonna search the entire Zone for him?”

Danny seemed to deflate, but then he perked back up as an idea came to him. “Maybe I don’t need to scour the entire Ghost Zone….”

Hours later, after school was over, Danny made his way to the Far Frozen. He found Frostbite inside one of their grand caves and pulled him aside for a favor. Frostbite bristled hesitantly.  “I am not so sure,” he expressed. “The last time I lent you the Infi-Map…”

“It won’t be like last time,” Danny assured him. “I promise. It’s just to find my friend.”

The frost giant pondered a while longer, but he eventually acquiesced. “Very well,” he said. He strode to the center of the cave and stopped in front of a floating chest encased in pale blue light. He unlocked the chest with a shard of ice and pulled out a golden scroll. Carefully, he handed it to Danny.

Danny nodded and thanked the yeti ghost. “I promise I won’t lose it this time,” he assured. With a sound resolution, he held the map a few feet from his face and declared, “Take me to Wes.” For a moment, nothing happened, and he wondered if he had been too vague; but then the map lurched, and Danny’s world spun as it pulled him out of the cave. The Ghost Zone passed in a whirl of green and purple before he was finally led straight to a newly formed natural portal.

Danny wasn’t exactly sure where he expected to land, but it certainly wasn’t here. As soon as he fell through the portal, he was greeted with the distinct scent of antiseptics and concentrated ectoplasm. It reminded him of his parents’ lab, but there was something else here… some sort of coppery smell? Danny glanced around and realized that this was a laboratory. But why would Wes be here? he wondered.

He inspected his surroundings more and found that there were tables with beakers, microscopes, and other standard lab equipment. Metal shelves lined the wall, containing what looked like… ecto-weapons? And in the center of the room...

Danny’s stomach did a sickening flip. He felt like he had just floated upside down at two-hundred miles per hour, but his feet were placed firmly on the linoleum floor. Danny fought his nausea and forced himself to keep looking at the ghastly sight.

In the center of the room was a metal table with leather straps, like some sort of demented operating table. It was long enough for a human to be laid on, at least six feet long. And in the dim light of the room, Danny could perceive the sheen of dark, crimson blood. So, so much blood.

Danny practically clasped his hands over his mouth to keep himself from crying out, an alarmed scream halfway up his throat. His stomach lurched again, and this time he was aware that he might… might throw up. Oh Ancients, not good not good not g—

He was subtly rocking back and forth to ease his stomach, to refrain from vomiting. The soft motion helped a bit with his nausea, but did little to soothe his abject terror. And suddenly, he was aware of nearby voices—both male—speaking nearby. To preserve his presence, he quickly turned himself invisible to avoid being caught.

He realized a moment later that the voices were coming from an adjacent room.

“Are you sure?” asked one of the men.

“The evidence is indisputable,” replied the other. “He’s a living human. One hundred percent organic matter, beating heart, lungs, brain—he only has trace ectoplasmic contamination, normal for Amity residents.”

The first man cursed. “So we got the wrong guy.”

Danny hadn’t even realized that he was subconsciously backing away from the voices until he bumped into a metal table. The force of the impact toppled an empty beaker over the edge, breaking it into innumerable shards.

The voices lulled. Then he heard footsteps approaching the door. Danny panicked and turned himself intangible, shooting through the opposite wall and landing in a new room. He realized too late that he had accidentally dropped his invisibility along with his intangibility when a weak voice prompted his attention.

“Danny?”

He instinctively turned to face whoever spoke his name and froze. It was like a vacuum had sucked all the air out of the room, leaving Danny’s lungs empty. In front of him was a shimmering, green barrier—most likely a ghost shield—and behind that transparent wall was… “Wes?”

Admittedly, Danny didn’t even recognize him at first glance. His usually tidy hair was mussed in every direction, dull and greasy. His cheeks were prominently sunken, like he hadn’t eaten in a long time. Not to mention, his bloodshot eyes were weary and tired, emphasized by the dark bags hung under his eyelids. Fresh bruises were peppered across his skin, mottling his skin in hues of blue and purple.

“What—” Danny’s tongue felt like it was tied in a knot, crossed over itself multiple times. “What happ—why—” He struggled to comprehend why Wes was like this, who had done this. Danny stepped close to the ghost shield separating them and pressed his hand against it, trying to move it through the barrier, but it was rock-solid.

Wes’s lips curled into a perturbing smile. His eyes were humorless, chilling. “Why?” Wes’s voice cracked. He sounded dehydrated, broken… Danny doubted he had drunk anything all day, or… maybe he had spent all day screaming. His green eyes misted over and met Danny’s own terrified, neon stare. “They thought I was you.”

His words hit Danny like a hard blow.

The joke that Wes was Phantom had existed for a long time, long before Wes was set on exposing Danny. But that was all it was—a joke. To think that someone genuinely would believe it….

It was then that Danny noticed the bandages wrapped around Wes’s bare chest. At some point, they had stripped his shirt, which allowed Danny a good look at all the new scars gracing Wes’s torso. The white gauze of his bandages was stained with fresh blood, and Danny was instantly reminded of all the blood he had seen on the operation table. Once again, his stomach plummeted—and so did he. Danny dropped to his knees and scoured his gaze across all of Wes’s injuries (that were his fault).

In his peripheral vision, Danny saw his own hand shaking from where it was still pressed against the shield. He considered turning human so he could pull Wes out, but Wes read his train of thought. “Don’t bother transforming,” he informed. “The shield works for both ghosts and humans—you can’t do anything.”

Danny’s eyes darted back to Wes. His chest crumpled at how broken his classmate looked. Wes didn’t deserve to be in this situation. As annoying as he was, he should never have been mistaken for Danny. Despite his helplessness, Danny’s core throbbed with dedication. “I’ll get you out,” he promised.

For a moment, Danny thought he saw a glimmer of hope in Wes’s eyes, a small light in the abyss of dull misery. But it was short-lived. The footsteps—the men from the other room!—returned. Danny whipped around to find a group of white-clad men holding ecto-rifles. Guys in White agents. Of course, how could he have been so blind? The Guys in White were the only organization inept enough to truly mistake Wes for Phantom, ignorant government cronies.

Danny didn’t have time to prepare when they raised their weapons, aiming to fire. Blasts assaulted him from every direction and Danny did his best to fight them off, using the ghost shield behind him to his advantage—unlike a regular wall, the shield would deflect all of their blasts back at them. However, no matter how hard he tried, he knew that it was useless; Danny was outnumbered, and he wouldn’t last forever. It was impossible to defeat them all and break Wes out of the shield before the next round of agents.

In the end, he was pinned under a ghost-proof net, bleeding in about three different places. An agent, a man with cold eyes and calloused hands, stood over him with a lopsided grin. “Looks like capturing the human wasn’t useless, after all,” he said. He placed a foot over Danny’s crouching form. “We got the ghost boy.”

Danny gritted his teeth. He was out of options, and at this point, he wouldn’t be able to escape with Wes. Sure, he still had the map, but he couldn’t just leave him behind… left at the GiW’s mercy...

But what choice did he have?

Danny glanced sideways and met Wes’s desperate stare. Guilt and defeat wracked his conscience and Danny clenched his fists. He didn’t want to… everything in him screamed not to do it. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Wes’s eyes widened. “What?”

Danny held the map in front of him, ignoring the agents’ curiosity and Wes’s gasp of realization. The red-headed boy crawled toward the shield’s wall, trembling as he fought tremors of pain, “No, no, don’t leave me—”

“Take me back,” Danny told the map, firmly holding onto the scroll. The GiW agent standing over him stumbled backward when Danny was pulled out from under the net. As he was whisked away, he heard one last desperate cry from Wes. And then, he was swallowed by a portal to the Ghost Zone, and everything vanished into green.

It was a matter of seconds before he was pulled onto a floating rock and collapsed on his knees. A glance over his shoulder confirmed that the portal he’d been pulled through had closed itself, meaning the GiW wouldn’t be able to follow him. Even though he knew that he was safe now, he couldn’t seem to calm himself down. His breath was still erratic and his hands—dang hands—wouldn’t stop shaking.

He couldn’t stop thinking about Wes and all the scars that had been marked across his pale body, followed by the image of that bloody table. Bile rose in his throat and he haphazardly swallowed it, forcing it down. If what he thinks happened did happen, then….

One of Danny’s biggest fears that he never spoke about, not even to Sam or Tucker, was the fear of being dissected. After all, he was threatened with it enough that it was a probable situation. His biology was rare; obviously getting him on a lab table was any scientist’s dream. His parents rambled on and on about dissecting ghosts that he dreamt about it too—being strapped to an examination table, crowded by scientists, sterilized scalpels digging into his skin. And in every nightmare, he was always the one staring into the eyes of the scientists, on the receiving end of their knives. Not Wes. It was never meant to be Wes.

He clenched his fists. It was never meant to be Wes. This was never supposed to happen, so Danny would make sure it never would… couldn’t… happen.

He made up his mind, stood from his rock, and propelled himself into the air. He knew the way to Clockwork’s lair like the back of his hand and was there in minutes.

“No,” Clockwork refused, upon his arrival.

Danny wasn’t surprised, but that didn’t make him any more content with Clockwork’s answer. “I know you saw what happened to Wes,” he pressed. “They… they thought he was me. It’s wrong. He shouldn’t have been captured.”

Clockwork’s red eyes studied Danny as he shifted into a child, unchanging. “So you’d rather they capture you, instead?”

Danny hesitated. Worst fear or not, Wes didn’t deserve what they had done to him. The images were burned into his eyelids: Wes’s body mottled with half-healing scars, curled up in a heap on the floor, and the sinister curl of the GiW agent’s lips…. He met Clockwork’s eyes with a determined stare. “Yes.”

Clockwork’s sharp gaze softened, shifting into an old man. “I’m sorry,” he stated, “I can’t help you.”

Danny clenched his fists. “So you’re just going to leave him there?” he accused, more desperate than angry.

“Of course not,” Clockwork replied with a staid frown. “He’s going to be released whether I interfere or not.”

Danny blinked in surprise. “Really?” he asked. Clockwork nodded and shifted into a young adult.

“The GiW have seen that he’s not a ghost. They’ll be sending him home by next morning.”

Instantly, Danny felt slightly relieved, but Clockwork’s news didn’t ease all his troubles. He believed the time ghost, seeing as he had no reason to lie. Still, he couldn’t help remember the blood across the table, slick and pooled across the metal surface. Wes’s dark bandages and his abject desperation when Danny left him alone with the agents. Even as a ghost, he found himself shiver. “He won’t be the same,” he realized, quietly.

Clockwork leaned against his staff and turned to look at the circular time window next to them. Danny couldn’t see anything but a swirling green vortex, but Clockwork seemed to discern something in the window. “He’ll heal with time,” he said, watching the swirling green window, knowingly. “You go home. I promise you will meet Wes tomorrow.”

Everything in Danny wanted to argue, to protest that he wanted to speak to Wes now. That he wanted Wes to be okay now, but he knew that it would be useless against the master of time. Reluctantly, he flew from Clockwork’s lair and (after returning the Infi-Map to Frostbite) returned to the human world through the Fenton Portal.

No matter how much he tried, he couldn’t sleep that night. Every time he closed his eyes, he was revisited by graphic images of Wes being tortured, tools of all sorts ripping him open, searching for evidence that he was Phantom—looking for something that only Danny had. He saw Wes pressed against the floor, clutching his bandages, and shaking as he bled. He twisted and turned until finally he couldn’t ignore the sunlight breaking through his curtains.

Normally, Danny flew to school, but something compelled him to walk today. Since it was earlier than usual and Sam and Tucker probably weren’t awake yet, he figured he’d walk alone. His body moved on autopilot, his legs carrying him mechanically to the direction of Casper High.

At least, he thought it was the direction of Casper High. He managed to deceive himself for a while until finally he looked up and found himself standing in front of Wes’s apartment building.

And there, sitting on the doorstep, was Wes.

Danny inhaled sharply. That action must have alerted Wes to his presence because seconds later the broken red-head lifted his head to meet Danny’s eyes. Danny lost himself in the emptiness of Wes’s eyes and realized that they looked just as tired as they had in the GiW facility.

“You’re okay,” Danny managed to say. Even as he said it, he knew it wasn’t true. After what he figured had happened to Wes, he was certain that he could never be okay. Who could?

Wes must have been thinking the same thing, but he kept his silence. His demeanor darkened and he growled, “No thanks to you.”

Danny gulped. “I’m sorry,” he expressed. His apology was heartfelt, but it did little to express his desire that none of this should have happened. He moved closer to Wes, who kept his posture still and guarded. “I didn’t want to leave you behind, but there was nothing I could do, and…” he trailed off and bit his lip. What could he possibly say to make up for leaving him? For any of this screwed up situation? He didn’t know, he couldn’t think. Staying up all night had stolen any coherent apology he might have been able to scrounge up. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, softly.

Wes’s eyes were glued to him, yet dark and unreadable. “Sorry for not trying harder, or for getting me into this mess in the first place?” he ground out.

Danny winced. “I—I never meant to… but you know I had to keep my identity a secret.”

“So you’re glad they caught me instead of you?”

Danny’s eyes widened. “No! Of course not—”

Wes cut him off by standing up. Danny didn’t miss the way that he winced when he moved, pulling himself to his feet. This time when Wes looked into Danny’s eyes, he didn’t mask his pain—Danny could sense his unfiltered agony and cringed.

“I told them I wasn’t a ghost,” Wes began, “but they didn’t believe me. Even after they ran all their tests, they thought I must be hiding my ghostliness in some way,” he emphasized bitterly. “So they…” A lump formed in Wes’s throat, and he turned his gaze to the sidewalk, letting his eyes roam across the sparkly concrete. He took a shaky breath, one so soft that Danny wasn’t sure he could’ve heard without his enhanced senses. He looked back to Danny and whispered, “They cut me up.”

Danny fell silent. He didn’t know what to say. After all, who could even respond to that? All he could do was watch, paralyzed, as Wes sniffled and wiped away a stray tear.

“It doesn’t matter,” the red-head finally decided. “They know now.”

That admission snapped Danny out of his guilt-ridden haze. “Know what?” He had a suspicion… but no. Not that. They couldn’t know that.

“I told them, of course,” Wes nonchalantly explained. “That you’re Phantom. They didn’t listen at first, but after realizing it wasn’t me, well… they did.”

Suddenly, Danny grew aware of the white van in his peripheral vision. A door slid open and men started stepping out of it, armed with guns aimed at the two of them. He knew, now, why Wes was sitting on the doorstep out in the open. They had been counting on his arrival. Wes was bait—and he had fallen for their trap. He felt his heartbeat accelerate, yet he didn’t look away from the broken boy standing before him.

“They were probably listening to our conversation,” Wes stated, eyeing the agents behind Danny. “If they had any doubts about what I told them, they’re gone now.”

The weapons whined as they charged. White boots crunched against gravel as they approached, closer and closer—

And Wes smiled, his first real smile since he had been taken. “You should run now,” he suggested. “I wouldn’t want you to go through what I did.”

Danny ducked at the perfect moment, barely avoiding getting shot. He felt the blasts from the weapons soar where his head had been a split second before and whipped around. He eyed the agents that were surrounding him, doing nothing to mask the fiery green glow in his eyes. It was too late. They know now, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

They know.

With one last glance at Wes, Danny turned himself invisible and kicked off the ground, using what limited flight he had in human form. Wes was right, he had to run—because once they caught him, it would be all over. He’d end up just like Wes, but they wouldn’t let him go. They’d keep him and use him as their sick little lab rat until he finally died.

He had to run… had to… run.

#consider this my entry for the last prompt of dannymay19 since i never made anything for that #danny phantom #wes weston #angst #fic #mine

[writing-with-chaos]

[Your OCs Backstory] First Love

HELLO! =D

I didn’t get to post this last weekend, but I wrote it anyway and it’s MY FAVORITE. If nobody reads it, I don’t care. I gotta have it on here. 

This got so much longer than I intended, but I was having a lot of fun with it ;p Honestly, I just love any excuse to write scenes with Sabin, since I get to a lot of that in within the actual WIP. I love my soft boy so much T_T

I hope y’all like him (and the story) just as much!

Ariana Salem

-------------------------------

//watch things on VCRs

with me and talk about big love

i think we're superstars

you say you think we are the best thing...//

"What the hell do you mean you've never baked chocolate chip cookies?"

"You can't bake very easily without an oven, Ria. Or a house to put it in."

"Okay, but you're telling me nobody's ever made them for you? None of the people you've stayed with?"

"No?"

Sabin tilted his head at her curiously. He always looked so cute when he was confused, like one of the bright-eyed stray dogs he always had with him. The latest one, a German Shephard he named Dimitri, slept in the corner by the fireplace. They both kept huddled in the living room themselves, wrapped in a nest of blankets. The fire was the only source of heat in the cabin. Despite its lack of basic utilities, it was Sabin's favorite place. The one luxury he allowed himself. When it was off-season and the owners were gone, he could pretend he finally had a place of his own, tucked away in the middle of nowhere where no one could find him. When he was here, he was just like everyone else. A boy and his dog, watching movies with the girl he adored. Sabin was always paranoid, but this was the only time Ariana ever saw him somewhat at ease. Because of that, the cabin was her favorite too.

The cookie bomb dropped while they were in the middle of said movie.

"I've had chocolate chip cookies before. Does that not count?" he asked.

"No! Baking them is like a whole new experience. It's like a childhood right of passage," said Ariana.

Sabin scratched at his neck and smiled bashfully. "I guess that would be why I didn't then."

She paused at his declaration, determination slowly filling her eyes. "When you pick me up tomorrow, I'm bringing ingredients."

It was sort of an unspoken rule of their relationship. Ariana used to wonder why he bothered to hang out with someone like her, especially before she awakened her powers, until she realized. They each gave each other what the other was lacking. She gave him a glimpse into the teenage normality he could never have through her talks of going to high school, shopping for the right clothes, hating her mom, and in exchange he offered her adventure, freedom, an escape.  In the end, that's all either of them wanted. Since then, she leaned into her role hard. Anytime Sabin so much as mumbled about an experience he missed out on, she'd do her best to give it to him. And she'd go all out. It'd be easier if he ever let her ask 'Drea for help, but she stopped trying to push the issue. He was being swayed by a stubborn ego, but it must've been rough to consider asking for help from the very creatures he was created to destroy. God knew she struggled with it enough.

The next night, she carefully snuck what she needed throughout the day. One at a time. A couple eggs in a tupperware, milk in a thermos, everything else in sandwich baggies, and her mom's recipe. Plus the stuff she usually nabbed, like snacks and whatever they'd need for dinner that night. She had to rearrange her overnight bag quite a bit, but eventually everything fit. Even a goofy, frilly apron and burned a CD, perfect to set that Baking-on-a-Sunday-Morning vibe. Sabin came to her window at midnight when the house was asleep, like he had since they were little kids, and warped her away. It was still daylight at the cabin. Her sleep schedule was always a mess when he was around. She didn't mind--it was a good excuse to take naps together.

"Okay. You read this to me--" Ariana plopped the recipe card in his hands while tying the apron. After she struggled with it a couple times, Sabin slipped behind her and tied it himself. His fingers at her lower back made her breath catch in her throat, and she forgot what she was saying for a minute. "Um. And then I'll do...that stuff."

"The baking?" He said with a laugh, completely oblivious of his effect.

"Yeah. That."

For the rest of the time, Sabin kept to his own corner near the table, so she could clearly focus. The atmosphere was exactly what she wanted. A bubble enveloped the room in a kind of bliss you only found in memories. A kitchen filled with laughter and life's latest tales. The dog at her hip, eagerly waiting for a morsel of cookie dough to fall to his level. A muffled radio filling the rare empty moments. It was like getting a glimpse of what could be in another world. Or maybe some kind of future. Her and Sabin coming home and cooking dinner together, or washing the dishes after. Him slipping behind her like before and wrapping his arms around her middle. His lips at her temple, then her jaw, and stopping delicately at her neck. And they would just stand there, silently drinking in their simple paradise. Safe enough to breathe. Stable enough to be careless, knowing there was nothing outside waiting for them to stumble. Free enough to be.

"I see why this is nice," Sabin said softly, while they rolled the dough into balls.

His face softened into a velvet smile that brightened the deep blue of his one eye, and made the firey red of the other glow like the embers in the wood-burning oven. Crystal clear of any fear or uncertainty. A rare moment, where he was completely present with her instead of two steps removed, the aura carrying him away to the same far away dream where nothing else existed outside of this moment. She'd kill to keep him happy like this.

Once the dough was in the oven, the only thing left was the clean up. Ariana lifted herself onto the counter and grabbed the wooden mixing spoon out of the bowl. She scooped some of the batter off with her fingers and ate it.

"This is the best part," she said slyly. "My mom never lets me do this at home."

"You can hang out with genocidal monsters and freak hybrids all day, but you can't eat cookie batter?" Sabin teased.

"Well, she's a lawyer. Monsters and freaks are expected, but she can't argue with salmonella."

He laughed. The full one that sounded like filtered sunbeams, lighting up the room. It was impossible not to mimic. She moved the spoon toward him.

"Want some?" He stared at the spoon for a moment. "Come on, it's not like we haven't swapped spit already."

Now the short, flustered laugh, always followed by a deep blush in the face. Pink, like normal, mixed with the silver shimmer of his Chaos Power energy. It was a satisfying bonus to teasing him. He was always so embarrassed whenever she brought up their kiss. It only happened the one time so far. She didn't press it, since admittedly she was a little shy about it herself, but she did her best to drop small hints and acknowledgments that yes, it did happen, and yes, she absolutely wouldn't mind if it happened again.

"You're never gonna let me forget that are you?" He said. He tried to start scrubbing at a bowl to distract himself.

"You didn't like it?"

It was enough for him to break his avoidance and look at her, if only for a second.  She could see the tinge of color on his cheeks through the shade of his dark, thick curls. His voice quieted to a near whisper.

"I-I didn't say that..."

"Then why would we wanna forget it?"

"You're killing me, Ria," he said with a shy smile. His hand moved to the back of his neck to scratch it, but he forgot it was soaked in soapy water. Ariana laughed loudly. "See? Look what you do to me, I'm a mess. This--This was your idea! I'm trying to focus."

"I didn't know you were so passionate about dishwashing," she teased.

Sabin took a large chunk off the spoon and hastily stuffed it in his mouth, like he didn't trust what he'd say or do with it otherwise. Ariana smiled to herself. She took it as a win. Thinking she tortured him enough, she hopped off the counter and pulled her sleeve down over her hand.

"C'mere." She used it to wipe the soap from his face.

Chaos Powers ran much hotter than humans. Being a hybrid, Sabin was only a little warmer than normal. It was unnoticeable without being this close. Sometimes she thought his mahogany skin had the tiniest glow to it, drawing her closer like the moon's pull on the waves. It finally settled in how close this was making them. Ariana's thumb gently stroked along his cheek. He stopped, and finally turned to look at her. A twitch of his mouth formed into a small, soft smile. One that was at ease. Enamored. His fingers carefully reached up to graze along her hand. Whatever bubble they were put under had them oblivious to why they snuck around at all. For a moment, this was a good idea. For a moment, it was impossible that it could be anything else.

And then the oven's timer went off. Its harsh sound broke something in the air. The bubble popped. They both remembered where they were, what reality waited for them. Most importantly, Sabin remembered. His eyes fluttered, like waking from a spell, and just as quickly as it left the far away panic she was so used to seeing in his eyes pooled back into its rightful place.

"That--That means it's done right?" He said quickly. He didn't wait for her to answer and was already at the oven.

There was a pang of disappointment in her chest, but Ariana didn't bother trying to bring it up again. It was only a few minutes, and already she grew so attached to a fearless Sabin. But this was their reality. The only reason she had Sabin in her life at all was because his fear helped him survive. Kept him one step ahead of the ever-watching Panacea, and their Seraphim soldiers waiting to bring him back into their clutches. Always their prized weapon, never her heart's true home.

They wouldn't have made it this far if she wasn't willing to wait. To fight. One day, that peaceful world would be theirs to keep. One day, they would never have to pick between safety and love again.

She would make sure of it.

#writeblr #writeblr community #writers of tumblr #writblr #writers #my ocs #writeblr ocs #yourocsbackstory #The Writing #cynical chaos #Ariana #Sabin #Sabiana

[nnegan13]

hello my good dudes I am here to offer a one shot for y’all 

prompt: “one of them a bit tipsy and the other one just loving and enjoying it and teasing, basically fluff”

it got away from me so fast tho haha 

bit of an AU, they met in college and are friends and not enemies and Eva is still Edo’s cousin bc I can’t help myself 

if this had a title it’d be called: edo rambles about how much he loves ele 

enjoy lovies! read on ao3 here

— 

“Ele,” Edo mumbles, thumbing at the top of his bottle and Fede looks over at him, brows raised. He has to tell Ele something, he knows this and not much else. Fede would know where to find her, right? Right? “Ele, Fede where’s Ele?” 

“What the fuck are you on right now?” Fede asks, shrugging Edo’s hand off his shoulder. “She’s not here, said she wasn’t coming, remember?” 

“Ah, really?” He asks, frowning. Surprised that he doesn’t remember something Ele told him, Edo thinks back over the past few days. Monday, he hadn’t seen her, which was the worst, but Tuesday she came to their study group and sat next to him and leaned over to write something on his notebook and he couldn’t think of anything but the way her hair smelled for the rest of the session. Wednesday, again, he failed to see her, but she did text him for over an hour that night. Thursday, Eva made him take them to lunch, Ele pressed her foot into the side of his leg, and he could barely concentrate on the conversation. Friday, he’d seen her with Stephan, her friend from that study program in England she’d done in high school and that, that was when she told him she wouldn’t be coming tonight. Plans with Stephan while he was still in town, or something. Who was he kidding? There wasn’t an or something, he remembers practically every word that she’s ever spoken in his presence, at least when he’s sober enough. “Fuck, I don’t—God, I forgot.” 

“Maybe you should stop drinking every time you see her, man.” Fede tips his own bottle to his mouth. “Or, every time you see her and she’s with another guy.” 

Edo shoves him. “I hate you sometimes.” 

“Only when I’m right.” Fede gestures to the crowd of people filling up their apartment, dancing to the music pounding through the room, or drinking, or talking in dark corners. His eyes catch Eva pulling Gio by his tie down the hallway toward the bedrooms that’s strictly off limits during parties and takes a long swallow from his bottle. His cousin is likely going to go do it on his bed. God, sometimes his life is fucked. “Go find a girl and get your mind off her.” 

“Fede, I don’t think you understand,” Edo says, mind whirring. His cousin is going to go fuck one of his friends, the girl he thinks might be the love of his life is currently on a date with a man she only sees once a year, and he’s drinking the shittiest beer he thinks Chicco has ever brought to him. Nothing makes sense, but the buzz is nice and he takes another swig. 

What is he saying? Something, something about Ele, Eleonora, the most beautiful woman in the entire world. “She’s so—so—”

Behind him, a soft voice he would know anywhere interrupts, “So what?” 

Ele stands at his shoulder, eyebrows raised, and watches him make a fool of himself turning around. Good, she’s here; he can tell her what he needs to tell her, now, once he remembers what it is. “Ele!” 

“Hi,” She chuckles and his eyes catch on her smile. “You look like you’re having fun.” 

“Only ‘cause you’re here.” That’s close to what he wants to say, right? Almost, almost, that damn smile is too distracting. The blue lights hung in the windows cast a glow across her face and she looks like a fucking angel. 

There. That’s closer. 

She shakes her head at him and peeks over at Fede, watching them with thinly veiled amusement. “How much have you let him drink?” 

“He was very distraught earlier when he remembered that you said you weren’t coming,” Fede reports and Edo frowns, but catches the flicker of Ele’s eyes back to his face. His lips part, he doesn’t want Ele knowing he forgot something she told him. Or Fede answering any questions about him, the fucking liar. “Chicco was with him first.” 

He lists to the side a little and Ele’s hand catches his chest. His mouth is very, very dry. “You let him start off with Chicco? Fede!” 

“It’s probably for the best,” Edo interjects, drawing her eyes back to his. They’re wide, green, and shining in the blue light around them, and he momentarily forgets how to speak, as per fucking usual around her. “Hopefully I drank enough to forget that Eva took Gio back to fuck in my bed.” 

And the filter, that’s broken, too. 

Ele, though, smiles and shakes her head again before slipping the bottle from his hand and setting it on the counter behind him. She nods into the kitchen. “C’mon, let’s get something else to drink.” 

The fucking, the fucking Sanpellegrino, he has to tell her about the Sanpellegrino. He follows after her, stumbling only on the first step. She looks over her shoulder at him, placing a hand on his arm. He might combust. “Careful.” 

In the kitchen, he spots Marti standing with Nico next to the fridge and calls across the room, Ele fisting her hand in his shirt. “Marti, hey, in the fridge, two of the Sanpellegrino.” 

Marti manages to open the fridge amidst the mass of bodies crowded in the kitchen and ducks to look inside. “Ah, orange or pomegranate?” 

Edo looks over at Ele, raising an eyebrow, and she smiles a little smile at him. Again, he almost forgets how to speak. “Which would you like?” 

“Pomegranate, Marti, please,” she says, turning to address him and grab the cans he slides across the island counter, and Edo bites his lip when she looks back at him. So damn beautiful. She holds a can out to him, eyebrows raising. “Sanpellegrino?” 

He shrugs and leans his hip into the counter, opening the can in his hands before trading her. “Last time you came you didn’t drink anything and I wanted to make sure there was something if you decided to come again.” 

There’s that fucking smile again. “Then how’d you know my favorites?” 

“Ah,” he ducks his head. “Eva told me.” 

“Of course she did.” She doesn’t sound mad, she sounds pleased, actually, and he dares to look up. Her eyes are turned away and she sips at her drink, gaze darting around the party, and he registers a few things: her hand is still gripping his shirt and he succeeded in telling her about the Sanpellegrino. Only one thing to go, if he can fucking remember what it is. 

“What made you change your mind?” 

“Hm?” Ele peeks over at him, red, red lips curving, and he stares at them for only a moment before fixing his eyes back on hers. 

“About coming to the party.” 

“Oh.” She looks back into the crowd and the blush that spreads on her cheeks is promising. He tells his hopes to stay firmly where they are and bites his lip, leaning a little closer to hear her better, and catches a whiff of her hair, just as distracting as before. “Ah, Stephan’s flight left earlier than I thought it would, and I figured I could stop by.” 

“Very nice of you.” 

She smiles, wry, and, fuck, she’s so gorgeous. “Thank you.” 

That’s it, that’s what he needs to tell her, if she doesn’t already know. God, how embarrassing would it be if she already knows he thinks she’s beautiful? Edo swallows and prays he isn’t invading her space too much. “Ele, I need to tell you something.” 

“Okay.” Her mouth forms the word carefully, and he has to force himself to look back at her eyes. Her big, amazing eyes. Hopefully, she doesn’t notice when his breath catches in his chest. “Tell me.” 

“You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen, I think,” he says and tries not to let his eyes widen too much as her hand pulls at his shirt a little more and her lips part and just the center of her brow raises, face opening. Fuck. Fuck, he’s so gone. “So fucking beautiful.” 

“Edo—” Not Edoardo, Edo. He can’t stop the smile forming on his face. 

“Hey, man.” Chicco claps him on the shoulder, startling him and Ele, and he tries not to get too annoyed. “Dina’s outside, complaining, and you know she likes you best.” 

“Chicco, really?” 

Chicco rolls his eyes. “Dude, she’s gonna call the cops if you don’t go charm her.” 

Edo really doesn’t want to, he’d much rather stay put and listen to whatever Ele was going to say, but Chicco starts pulling him out of the kitchen and he doesn’t have the best control of his body, at the moment, and winds up standing in the open doorway. Dina, their tiny little landlady, stands with her arms folded across her chest and he hopes with his whole soul that she’s feeling kind tonight. “Dina.” 

“Edo.” She’s frowning. This is not a good start. “What have I told you boys about the music?” 

The music that’s still currently playing just inside the apartment. He opens his mouth to say something, anything, but Dina’s furious gaze slides from his face to something next to him and turns immediately into something more pleasant. A small hand touches his back. “Now, who’s this?” 

He looks over his shoulder. Ele. Fuck. “Did you get a girlfriend and not tell me about her, Edoardo?” 

He panics for a moment, but Ele, amazing, fantastic, wonderful Ele, pulls his arm up around her shoulders and slides her arm around his waist. Forget combusting because she touched his chest, he might actually implode, now. Her body is so, so warm against his, even in the heat of the party, and she gives him a practiced smile before looking at Dina. “Yeah, we’ve only been dating for a little while, though. I’m Eleonora.” 

“Ondina.” Dina is smiling now, and reaches out to clasp Ele’s cheeks and plant kisses on them. “Ah, a girlfriend, just what Edo needs.” She reaches for his face, now, and he stoops so she can press a kiss there. “Oh, very good, very good.” 

Dina, so happy at the recent turn of events, toddles away with a sweet goodbye, leaving Edo standing in the open doorway, Ele still pressed into his side. “Fuck, thank you.” 

She steps back, leaning against the doorframe, and he mimics her. “Not a problem.” 

“Seriously, you saved my ass.” 

A wide, teasing grin cracks on her face and his heart spasms. God, she’s incredible. “Anything for the guy who thinks I’m the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen.” 

His own smile slips onto his mouth and he looks away. “Fuck.” 

“What, did you not mean it?” She asks, still amused, and her tone alone draws his eyes back to her face. “You’re drunk?” 

He bites his lip. “No, no, I mean it.” 

This smile kills him. “Good.” 

#skam italia #incantava #skam it #skam it fic #incantava fic #eleonora sava #edoardo incanti #edoardo x eleonora #my stuff

[chronicbatfictioner]

A Real Boy - Chapter 23

Tim's suspicion didn't pan out. Appallingly. Amanda Waller, even when not hidden by the government's reverse 'Big Brother' watch, did exactly as suspected from someone assigned to 'protect a nation's security'. She went to meetings with people of questionable types, both the clandestine and actually not-so-nice kind of questionable; she went to secret meetings, and not-so-secret meetings with government-looking people. And so on and so forth. Watching her activities was literally like looking at a generic spy movie. By the end of the footages, Tim could tell who was actually following her, which of them were friendlies, which of them were not.

"If it's any consolation, I'm sure she, too, knows which of them are friendlies, which are not." Barbara told him, smiling.

"Yeeeah... I just... I-- I saw Conner's energy, Babs, I'm sure." Tim sighed. "There are several possibilities: one is that his soul was trying to return. But Jason said if a familiar is perished, its soul would simply perish into the magi; making the magi more powerful. If the magi is killed, well... that's it. Done and dusted. If a magi died peacefully, there's always a chance that the familiar will get inherited. Conner was an effigy, technically. When he died, he would've gotten absorbed into Clark... and Clark would have known it..." he stopped at the unspoken question in Barbara's face. "Uh... yeah, I asked Jason what happened if a familiar is killed or something. Because I wanna know what happened to my mom's familiar..."

"Janet was a fae-magi. She didn't have a familiar." Barbara stated, looking even more puzzled than before. "Jason said she had one?"

"Yeah, he said she took my dad's rejected familiar." Tim told her. "She never showed you?"

"I was under the impression that, yeah, all magi would like to show off their familiars. And since Jan never did, I thought she didn't have one." Barbara explained. "Now I'm wondering what her familiar was... But anyway. Okay, here's a hole in your theory of the energy being Conner's. If his soul - or what equates as his 'soul' after he was brought to life."

"...And for the record, once a being is sentient, it has a soul." Jason interrupted, walking in next to Zitka - the latter looking like a grey hairless St Bernard next to Jason. "Right, Zitka?" he added once he noticed Tim's sight on the elephant. Zitka trumpeted what sounded like an exclamation point.

"Okay, even effigies?"

"Effigies' soul differ only in color and wavelength. We usually have similar colors to our respective magi, likely in lighter tones. Effigies tend to display the color of its maker - the literal crafter. If the magi is, like, red; and the maker is yellow, the effigy could be orange, instead, or striped or polka-dotted." Jason explained.

"Ooo--kay..." Barbara drawled. "That's... and who can tell the colors of a magickal person?" she wanted to know.

Jason shrugged, "a magi whose powers are of light spectrum? I dunno, that's just how it was explained to me. I never actually asked how."

"You're not helping..." Tim grumbled. "But wait! We all saw the flash of colors, of Bart's, and of Conner's, in the video footage, didn't we?"

"Yes we did..." Barbara grinned. "Oooh, hey, looks like we might just found out how and what magick, real or metaphorical, to use." she added, tapping several commands into her keyboard. "Alright, here's an image of Luthor. I'm using the same filters I used for the CCTV footage of then..."

It was a short footage, extended using the slow-motion filters required to capture what happened to Bart a few days ago. The only difference was that since Lex Luthor did not move in super-high speed like Bart did, the footage took a good long ten seconds to show the soft red light around him.

"Okay," Barbara stopped the footage. "I saw red. You?" Jason and Tim nodded, and Zitka snorted slightly. "Now we do Clark's." she said, putting a different footage, this one of Clark flying over Metropolis in high speed.

"Blue, like Conner's. I toldja it was Conner the other day... If I could see him, that means he's still alive!" Tim nodded in satisfaction. "What?" he demanded when he realized that Barbara was still glaring at him.

"I never knew that, and I've known Clark for a good long while. How did you know Conner's color? Or Bart's?" she asked curiously. "Bart explained that his connection with the Speed Force allowed him to see people's soul - a magi's soul, that is. He couldn't see the souls of people who has no magick. We actually tried that filter on his suggestion. But... you saw the footage and promptly pre-recognized Bart and the other color signature. How?"

Tim blinked. He never realized that he could. He looked at Jason for answers.

"Oh no, you're not gonna blame me for that! I can tell if a person is a magi or not and/or whether they have embraced and/or cultivated their magicks. But I don't know the spectrum of their powers." Jason protested.

Barbara was glaring at him, still, and it made Tim a little uneasy. "What... I don't know how. I just do. And it's just like, for the kids I hang out with..." Tim replied lamely. "I mean, Bart and I-- and Cassie and Conner... we've been friends for a good long while. Rachel just kinda dropped by right thereafter, and when Rachel met us, I already know each of Bart, Cassie, and Conner's colors and stuff.

"Maybe it's something he picked up for hanging out with them for a good long while?" Jason suggested. "Still..." he paused to think.

Barbara picked up where he'd paused. "Still that would mean that you have another aspect of your magick that you probably haven't developed. I'll figure out how you can develop it... or maybe Jason can look through the texts, 'cause I don't think that's the kind of knowledge that's been archived digitally." she said, turning toward her workspace.

Tim didn't even realize he was still blinking owlishly without really looking at Barbara until Jason waved his hand in front of Tim's face. "What??" he demanded.

"I just watched your brain doing the search Babs suggested, reboot itself, and does the search again to no avail. So no, Timmy, I don't have the information yet, either. So let's just do something we know what to do, before delving into the unknown." Jason remarked.

"Which is?" the question was rather moot, because Tim already know the answer.

"I'm gonna go consult the words written on paper. You, well, you can take a nap. Actually, please take a nap. I'm exhausted just by looking at you being tired."

The remark made Tim yawn. He didn't even realize how tired he was until Jason pointed it out.

"Bed, yes?" Jason said.

"How is it you're the one in tune with my feelings?" Tim grumbled, but didn't resist when Jason pulled him and semi-dragged him out of the cave toward the bedrooms.

"It's my job. Or genes. Whatever floats your boat, Timbit. Also your tune with yourself is more out of wack than most people. But that's a rant for another time..."

"You gonna go to the library or stay with me?" Tim's mouth said. Or maybe his brain. At this point, he couldn't be sure anymore. "Whatever 'it' is, Jay, you know we gotta bring Conner home... He's alive. I knew it. I can't see dead people's colors..." he insisted sleepily as Jason shoved him onto the bed.

"I'll stay, the books can come to me." Jason replied, tucking the blankets around Tim and then tucked himself next to Tim.

"I forgot you can magick, too..." Tim mumbled as he relished on the probably-10-thousand-thread-count cotton that is the Wayne family's bedsheets. He was out within seconds, not even knowing if Jason had actually stayed or not. The only thing that signaled Jason's presence was his body's warmth.

Conner walked in to the Wayne Manor. Or flew in. Usually he would fly in, Tim knew. But his brain just wasn't awake enough to make the distinction or even to remember which bedroom he'd been sleeping in. Or if it's day or night.

Or if he was actually awake or asleep, and the sight before him was a mere dream.

Until the bed tilted and Jason poked his cheek, hard, and said, "Okay, we're good. He's conscious, I think."

"I hope so," Conner replied.

"Good dream." Tim retorted. "Now will you please just let me wake up so I don't have to feel sad that Conner isn't really-- What the hell!" --he yelped angrily when someone out of his line of vision slapped him. He blinked a few times, before his eyes finally focused to a mop of blonde-ness next to him. "Stephanie??"

"He's definitely awake, now." Stephanie grinned triumphantly.

"Weee--ll... If I were the one slapping him, he'd be unconscious again."

Tim was sitting up by then, belatedly clutching the blanket around his hips when he realized that someone - probably Jason - had changed his day-clothes to an oversized sleep-shirt and nothing else but his boxers.

"It's not like I've never seen you sleep, before..." Conner remarked, snickering.

"It's... he's-- what--" Tim spluttered coherently, one finger pointing at Conner. He looked at Jason, and then Stephanie. "I'm dreaming, right? I mean, there's Conner, and you-- you're not supposed to be even here... This has got to be some sort of subliminal wish of mine and all..."

Jason rubbed Tim's hair absently, eyes still practically glued to the tablet Tim didn't even see him carrying. "Don't worry about it, Timbit. It's not a dream and you can be in denial all you want."

Conner took a seat at the foot of the bed. "I'm... real, buddy. I'm... there's a long story behind this and I think I'll wait until Mr Alfred brings you coffee so you can be a bit more... coherent."

Stephanie scoffed. "Oh, he's coherent, alright. He doesn't believe that we're here because... apparently Jason said I shouldn't get anywhere within 20 miles radius of magick stuff. By the way--" Stephanie turned to Tim, "Harper is downstairs with Cullen - her brother. You never knew that Cullen is actually a magi, do you?"

"No," Tim admitted. Before he could say anything else, the bedroom door opened and Alfred walked in regally while pushing a trolley.

...And Harper Row walking a few steps behind him, a little less regally as she announced, "Coffee, anyone? Mr Pennyworth here liked my waffle recipe and since we don't have chocolate chips, raisins will have to do for now."

The smell of coffee and butter permeated the air, making Tim a little more certain that he was not, in fact, dreaming.

"But... but... but... --how...?" he asked meekly as a tray of coffee with a pile of waffles was placed on his lap. "...and I gotta pee. Just... give me a second, Alfred, please." he warned. Alfred lifted the tray back up and Tim leaped out of the bed, completely forgetting about the boxers until both Stephanie and Harper whistled wolfishly and Conner chortled.

"Never knew you're the batman-boxer type, Tim!" Harper called out. Tim zoned her out and slammed the bathroom door closed.

#Tim Drake #Jason Todd #Magi!AU #no-capeAU #Batfam #Stephanie Brown #Barbara Gordon #alfred pennyworth #harper's bazaar #Lex Luthor #Clark Kent #Bart Allen #Zitka #Dick Grayson #Conner Kent #Cullen Row

[jynappreciationsquad]

Color of Kindness

(Thanks to @hoofgirl for the prompt!)

“This unit is not in need of maintenance at this time,” Essie says in his buzzy voice, watching her small fingers poke and prod at his chest plate with his shiny optic lens.

Jyn frowns at him severely, and holds up her paintbrush admonishingly. “’S not maint-nance, Essie. ‘S art.”

“Please clarify “art,”” Essie buzzes again, because he is not a very smart droid but that’s okay. Papa says he is just as smart as he needs to be and that maybe next harvest if they make some extra credits, he will get an additional processor for Essie. Jyn’s almost sure the extra processor will be so Essie can help more with things around the farm, but she also knows that if Essie is smarter then he will play better games. So she hopes the harvest is good. But Papa also said that Essie needs new paint, and Jyn worries that if they buy new paint, then they won’t be able to buy a processor and that will be no fun at all. Plus, Essie gets really distressed when something stresses out his current processor. He makes this really high-pitched whiny noise and his chassis vibrates hard and Papa usually sighs and asks him to shut down and cool off while Papa comes up with a less complex logic chain for him to follow.

Essie in distress is also absolutely no fun at all. She doesn’t want him to not get a new processor.

And Jyn has an idea, because she is very super smart and knows what to do. It took some work, because she’s still stupidly small and the ladder was really big and hard to move, but she got it figured out and climbed all the way up to the loft where Papa and Mama store the oils and other things that stink and slosh and Jyn’s never ever supposed to eat (although it’s funny that Mama and Papa keep saying stuff like that, because who would want to eat any of that stinky stuff? Ew.) And she found some of those crushed up rocks that Mama says people use for pigments and she mixed them up with the oil and now she’s got…well, it’s sort of paint. She was going to make it white like Essie’s old white paint, but that’s boring and anyway the white kept turning really ugly grey, so instead she’s made pink and green and blue and honestly, she’s super pleased with how the orange came out because the others are only sorta pink and mostly blue but the orange is Orange with the capital ‘O’ and everything.

Jyn really likes orange. It’s so cheerful!

“Art is pretty pictures and stuff,” Jyn tells her friend importantly, proud that she gets to teach someone else something for a change. “And you’re very pretty already but you need some new paint because of the rain. So,” she adds another flourish to the masterpiece on Essie’s chestplate. “Art,” she announces, holding her hands out wide to showcase the beautiful swirls and colors and everything.

Essie cranes his head down to look, but his neck joint isn’t really good and his optic telescopes all the way but he can’t see. “Art,” he repeats, but she can tell from how he whirrs that he doesn’t really understand.

“Look,” Jyn says patiently, climbing down awkwardly from her stool and leaving orange and blue and pink handprints on the old metal (oops, well, Papa likes colors anyway, he probably won’t be mad). “It’s a pretty picture, and now that you’re all painted, we can get you a processor. If the harvest is good,” she adds, because that’s important. Probably.

Essie whirrs again, a little louder and higher, coming unpleasantly close to the Distress noise that makes Jyn feel worried and sad. “I am sorry, Erso, Jyn,” he says, “I cannot follow this logic train. Please input again.”

She sighs, because Essie is her friend but he can be so…so…what was that word Mama used yesterday when she was measuring the water acidity? Frustrating.

“I helped you be pretty,” she says slowly. “So Papa can buy you a new processor. Don’t worry,” she pats his right arm, leaving a smudged handprint behind. “You’ll understand better when you’ve got more processing power.” Suddenly, something great occurs to her. “Oh, wait, look here, Essie! Look!” She pulls open a drawer on Papa’s workbench (there’s only a tiny bit of paint on her hands now, so the green marks she leaves on the handles are barely noticeable, really), and rummages around a bit until she finds what she’s looking for. It’s a shiny chrome plate, she’s not entirely sure what it’s for but Papa hasn’t used it yet and anyway probably forgot it was here.

She holds it up to Essie, and beams.

Essie whirs again, his optic focusing on the distorted image in the plate, reflecting back the colorful picture on his chassis.

“Erso, Jyn,” he says after a moment, “Please clarify this image.”

She nearly drops the plate in her excitement to reach over and point out all the great stuff she put on him. “Um, so that’s our farm, and that’s the mountain back there where I fell down that one time, remember? And this is the water filters where you like to work most because you talk to the hydrator and sometimes I think you must be telling funny jokes and stuff because you seem really happy. Oh, and this, this is you, right there, you’re kind of orange but that’s okay because I like orange, and that’s me, right there, the green one, next to you because you’re my friend!”

She beams again, pleased with her work. It’s not the prettiest ever because some of the colors didn’t work out quite so good as she hoped, but it’s definitely paint, except maybe that runny bit in the mountains, but she doesn’t point that part out.

Essie whirrs.

“Do you like it?” Jyn holds her breath, because if Essie doesn’t like it, she will have to figure out how to wash it off and that would be sad and also she’s not really sure, well, how.

“This image has been created for me,” Essie says, his voicebox a little slower than normal.

“Yeah,” she nods enthusiastically. “All for you. So you can get a new processor. And ‘cause it’s pretty.”

“Pretty,” Essie repeats. A long pause, a lot of whirring, and Jyn starts to get nervous again because the whirring is very high and that means Essie is Distressed.

And then the noise slows and drops, and with the firmness that Essie usually only displays when discussing filter ratios with Papa, her friend says, “I am very pretty.”

Jyn is so delighted that she drops the chrome plate with a crash and claps her hands (some paint flies up and spackles her face, oops, guess it was a little wet still). “Yes,” she agrees. “The prettiest droid ever, Essie.”

“Jyn,” says Papa from the door, “What are you doing?”

Jyn spins around and grins at him. “Papa! Look! I painted Essie for you so we will have enough for a processor!”

Papa looks over her head with a very funny look on his face. Jyn figures it must be that thing Mama told her about, when they learned about art. People can be moved by art, she said. Papa isn’t moving, but Mama said it’s not that kind of moved, but more like…they get big feelings from it. Jyn’s not sure what Papa’s feeling right now, but his mouth is crimped tight and his face is turning a little red and his eyes are dancing, so she’s guessing whatever it is, it’s a pretty big feeling.

“Hello, Erso, Galen,” Essie says in his careful, slow way. “I am the prettiest droid.”

“So I see, Essie,” Papa agrees, also speaking in a careful, slow way, although that’s funny because he’s not slow like Essie, normally. Maybe it’s the big art feeling. “Did Mama tell you we were buying Essie a new processor?”

“If we didn’t have to paint Essie,” she tells him, although she’s a little uncertain now because she can’t remember if that was precisely what Mama said, now that she’s thinking about it.

“Well,” Papa says, and his face is just a little bit redder as he watches Essie lean over the chrome plate on the floor and admire his pretty picture that Jyn made just for him. “That is,” he clears his throat. “That was very kind of you, Stardust.”

Jyn beams.

“Why don’t you…go get Mama,” Papa adds, though his voice is a little muffled by his hand, which is rubbing over his beard really hard.

She perks up, because Papa is being weird but Mama will probably be able to explain it. “You think she’ll like it?”

“Oh,” Papa nods, hard, “I think she will love it.”

“Erso, Lyra enjoys aesthetically pleasing images,” Essie says wisely. “And I am the prettiest droid.”

“You sure are!” Jyn shouts over her shoulder as she bolts for the house, thrilled at the good reactions she’s gotten. Turns out that helping people is a lot of work, but it’s pretty great, in the long run.

#rogue one #star wars #jyn erso #fanfiction #text #other: galen erso #other: misc #ours #by: skitzofreak

[fabulouslyphan]

Happy Meals and Happy Days

"Could I get a chicken nugget happy meal please?" A deep voice asked as Dan tapped at the register. He glanced up at the customer, analysing him with a deep but quick stare. Tapping out the order methodically, he took in the strangers porcelain white skin and striking blue eyes, which seemed even brighter when framed by the black strands of hair falling gently to one side of them.

"What drink would you like?" Dan asked, finger hovering over the bright tabs on the screen. He stood up straighter as the other man considered his options, trying to judge who was taller. It was a close call, but Dan reckoned he had an inch or two more. This made him weirdly happy, considering his above average height had him taller than most people anyway.

"Just a coke, I think, please." The stranger finally decided, pulling Dan out of his trance and a card out of his peculiar looking phone case. A closer glance revealed it was patterned with Shiba Inus, which pulled a grin from Dan's sleep deprived state as he passed over the card reader.

"It'll be five minutes if that's okay?" Dan said, refreshing the till and flicking his eyes up to meet the blue tinted gaze of the man across from him.

"Yeah of course, that's fine!" A smile lit up his face like a firework on New year's Eve, and Dan could've sworn his heart stopped for a second.

"Much thank." Dan quipped, no filter on his mouth as he appreciated the customers face. "Wait no!" He corrected himself, face palming violently. A laugh broke him from his embarrassment, and he peeked between his fingers to see the man clutching his chest as he laughed, his tounge poking out minutely between his teeth.

"You just made my day ... Daniel." A quick glance at the badge pinned carefully to Dan's chest helped finish his sentence. "Thanks for that." He turned to walk away before spinning on his heel suddenly, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Or should I say much thank?" He winked, finally moving to stand in the waiting area.

Dan put together the meal, cheeks a vibrant red from his embarrassment. PJ sidled up to him, an obvious grin on his oddly stunning face.

"Channeling your inner memelord, I see? Is he cute? Scratch that, he must be if you're willing to make a meal, I know you prefer to work at the till." At this point, Dan was sure if he got any hotter he'd spontaneously combust. Resolutely ignoring PJ, he put some nuggets into a bag, pausing before placing an extra two in when PJ wasn't looking. He grabbed a pen, drawing a Lenny face onto the box, where it would be obvious to the intended audience. He finally went back to the counter, handing over the box to the customer, a peachy glow and red patch on his cheeks the only reminder of the bright colour that had graced them before.

"Thanks, Daniel." The raven haired man said, hugging the box to his chest.

"Call me Dan." He grinned, winking before he watched the man leave. Once he was out of the door, Dan sighed deeply, going back to watching the hands on the clock ticking by. The early hour of the morning had never felt so obvious.

~~~~~~~

"Voldemort, nine o'clock!" PJ called over to Dan, moving away from the till.

"What are you on about?" Dan laughed, taking his place at the till before realising what he was talking about.

"You know who!" PJ's disembodied voice carried through the almost empty kitchen easily, quickly bringing a blush to Dan's cheeks.

"Hello again." A smile made its way across his face as he made eye contact with the guy he'd dubbed 'Mystery Man' in his head.

"Hi." He replied, grinning back at him. "Could I get a chicken nugget happy meal please?" Dan nodded, tapping the respective buttons on the screen.

"Which drink would you like? A coke again?" He asked, flushing a deeper colour as he realised he'd revealed that he remembered the order. Mystery Man smirked, his eyes twinkling as he nodded, pulling his card out of a Shrek wallet this time. Dan almost laughed out loud, instead muffling it by clearing his throat as he passed over the card machine.

He went through the same process as yesterday, adding the extra nuggets and a reference to a meme in permanent marker. This happened the next day, and the next, until it had been a good three weeks of Mystery Man turning up and ordering a chicken nugget happy meal at 3am, before having a short conversation with Dan, usually referencing memes. Other than the few days when he'd been ill (or so he said when he came back) the almost-stranger, who's name Dan still hadn't managed to catch, was in there every night, 3am on the dot.

Until one fateful day, in late October. It was early evening, and for some godforsaken reason, Dan wanted chicken nuggets. It was ridiculous! He worked at MacDonalds for hours every night, living off the food there during his shift, and yet here he was, craving those bloody mcnuggets. Tugging on a black hoodie, he trudged through the streets to the other MacDonalds, having had his fill of PJ for the day that morning.

Walking up to the counter, Dan barely glanced at the bespectacled man with a quiff who stood at the counter, instead focusing on the nametag attached to his chest. Phil. A good name, he thought, before he was pulled from his thoughts by an audible gasp. His head snapped up and he visibly jumped when he realised who was stood there.

"Dan?"

"Mystery Man?" The two names spilled from their lips simultaneously, a matching look of shock plastering their faces.

"Wait, mystery man?" Phil asked, crooking his head to one side slightly.

"I forgot to ask your name, " Dan admitted shyly. " So I made it up. I was going to go with Mo, but it felt wrong." He grinned slightly as he searched Phil's familiar features.

"Well, Dan, what would you like?" Phil smiled a teasing look at Dan as he waited for his answer.

"Could I get a...chicken nugget happy meal with coke please?" Dan asked, the picture of innocence as he gazed at Phil, who had to bite his lip to prevent a laugh from bursting out. He went to pull out his card, but Phil touched his arm, stopping him.

"It's on the house." He winked, pointing Dan to the waiting area as he went to prepare the meal. Dan buzzed with excitement, his foot tapping rhythmically on the floor as he played a silent piano piece on his leg with his fingertips.

When Phil came back, he was missing his apron but had two happy meals and drinks instead. "Shall we?" He guestured to a table, bumping Dan with his hip slightly.

It was the best 'date' (or whatever you would call it) Dan had ever been on. They talked about anything and everything, laughing over bad puns and jokes with their hands just touching on the table, sipping at their drinks in between giggles. Once they were finished, Phil pulled Dan up, linking their fingers. "Mario Kart?"

"Do you even have to ask?" Dan laughed, and they walked the short distance to Phil's flat. Ironically, it was only a few minutes from Dan's, which brought an eruption of giggled from both of them when he pointed it out, the two of them feeling drunk on life.

Once in the apartment, they began to play. Dan won all of the games, his competitive nature clearly shining through. Phil found himself determined to distract him somehow, so when the moment was right, he leaned over, pressing a kiss to his lips. Dan dropped his controller, his character swerving off the road just moments before he would've won. Phil's sailed past, winning first place.

"No fair! That is cheating, straight up cheating." Dan complained, pouting at Phil. Phil leaned back over, pulling Dan's face towards his and kissing the pout away.

"Still complaining?" He asked, gazing into Dan's eyes when they pulled away to breathe.

"Not even a little." Dan said, yanking him over to connect their lips again. Soon, the Xbox went into sleep mode, abandoned as its owner found something much more enjoyable to do with his time. Or should he say, someone.

*****************************

Aaaaah thanks for reading! This is one I wrote a few months ago, and I had to redo bits but I'm quite happy with it I think. My personal life has been a bit full on recently, but there will be another fic out sometime in the next week, a prompt this time, so hopefully you can look forward to that. Once again, thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it!

Belle xoxo

[Don't forget, if you send in a prompt, I can write you a fanfic! Anything'll do!]

#phan #phanfic #phanfiction #dan and phil #dan howell #phil lester #macdonalds au #fluff #mild reference to sex #danisnotonfire #amazingphil #creative writing #fanfic #fanfiction #dnp #dip n pip #dip and pip #pj liguori #kickthepj

[mtgsharzad]

the cool thing about doomsday is it’s a very efficient tutor for multiple cards

so you can set up your clunky combo onetwothreefourfive justlikethat

(and how do you like your blue-eyed boy mister death)

I. DOOMSDAY CONTEXT AND HISTORY

Doomsday in Constructed is originally a Vintage combo deck that uses Black Lotus to pull off some really quick combo kills. There's a Legacy port of it, which is where most of my knowledge comes from, but it's a different beast without Lotus and Yawgwill. The OG OG OG kill is Lotus, Recall, Mana Vault, Mind's Desire, Beacon of Destruction - so elegant! - but Doomsday decks have killed in a number of ways. Vintage Doomsday is brutal and uncompromising while legacy doomsday is a lot more work than every other combo deck for no discernible edge, so of course I have a soft spot for the card and not the anger it deserves. 

Some early piles used Ill-Gotten Gains, a Storm engine card from a beautiful deck from a bygone age. It was called IGGy Pop, and it abused Ill-Gotten Gains to generate mana and storm and featured Intuition both as part of the combo and a tutor for its initiator (intuition for IGGx3, loop 2 IGGs, Lion's Eye Diamond and cabal ritual for mana and storm, eventually IGG for Intuition for three Tendrils of Agony for lethal). Sometimes you could just use fast mana to slam IGG as a Mind Twist that sets up your combo a turn or two later, also.

Obviously IGG says "each player", so it could only really work in a meta without Force of Will control decks (which indeed is when it lived up until like original rav block) and so it died out. Traditionally you'd get recursion, protection and a kill, cast your Duress first to strip their Force, and then go off. As if Force of Will weren't cruel enough, New Phyrexia dealt the death blow. Now IGG had a real enemy - Misstep on Duress, Force exiling the other blue card. [c=Counterbalance]Counter[/c][c=Sensei's Divining Top]top[/c] control's rise to prominence was also less than kind. Good luck setting up your clunky kill! Doomsday used Top itself (it filters for the combo before you go off and then taps to draw you into it) but didn't really gain an edge until it started to kill with the uncounterable combo of Shelldock Isle casting Emrakul.

Contemporary Doomsday builds usually kill with Lab Maniac in Vintage and Tendrils in Legacy, (siding in to Shelldock/Emrakul against counterspell decks) but they're flexible enough that they can play (and play around) all sorts of things, which is what Doomsday in particular enables. It's not that hard to go through the motions, the challenge is in working out which kill gets around what sideboard hate and how many turns you should do it in.

II. HOW TO PLAY DOOMSDAY

Here's how you build piles: card draw and mana on top, combo and protection in the middle, recursion on the bottom. That's Doomsday, now you know how to pilot Doomsday. You're welcome!

III. DOOMSDAY IN CUBE

Now this is where this post stops being pointless b/c even though Doomsday is allegedly REALLY COMPLEX or whatever it's honestly not that hard to play if you have an idea of what's up and don't care about mastering the deck. Obviously some people have exhaustive tables of potential weirdo combinations (kill around two swords to plowshares and Leyline of Sanctity is one i remember being impressed by) but you're essentially going to look at the resources you have, the kills you have available, and build a pile that takes you from A to B. With fast mana, Brainstorm and recursion, the Eternal formats get a really sweet package out of it.

In the Lab Man case, you need lab man, mana to cast him, a way to draw five cards, and protection for Villain's meddling. Thought Scour is cool because it's not just 3 cards off your pile for 1 mana, it's valid protection against removal (thought scour in response, can't draw the card, win), so where you put it in the stack can depend on what you need it to do. Flexible cards like these are probably key to making Doomsday/Lab Man work in Cube.

The key to porting it to Cube is you probably need to give up on the idea of winning the turn you cast Doomsday. That's fine, I think! It lets us really focus on its strengths and show them off. First off, it's a combo-agnostic tutor; it doesn't care what you wanna do, as long as you don't need more than 5 (12) cards to do it. This excites me because conceivably I (one of my drafters?) could use it to support whatever janky corner-case interaction I think is interesting that draft. It's "for" DDLM combo though, that's just a bonus.

I'll go through a couple of Cubable DDLM piles at the end of the post, so don't worry if this doesn't make sense yet. Doomsday's interesting as a combo enabler in that you're not doing anything to your hand when you cast it. Any spells already in your hand are part of your combo resources, but remember that Doomsday also looks through your graveyard so if your fair spells are part of the combo you get to cast them as fair spells first! This is really key to making it work over other combo archetypes IMO - you can cantrip away in the early game and then have those cantrips all over again post-resolution. 

IV. PRACTICAL EXAMPLES

You do some stuff, maybe draw some cards, make some mana sources, and then you cast Doomsday. We're doing Soft Doomsday here so let's assume we pass the turn and kill next turn or the turn after that. This lets us draw 1 or 2 cards off our pile naturally, which is huge, because then we can build looser piles. Instead of 'draw six cards and you win', we just need to draw 4. It also means we're probably putting protection at the top of our pile so we draw it first. If we don't have any protection, that's okay, we can recur Doomsday somehow, draw into it, and make a new pile (remember, we can tutor from the graveyard).

We drafted Brainstorm, Snapcaster and Unearth, so we'll untap, cast a cantrip from our hand (activate a planeswalker?) to go to 3 cards in deck, and then we'll cast Lab Man. Maybe we fight over it on the stack - maybe we drew into Thoughtseize and that isn't a problem - or maybe Hero (at this point I concede I am in fact the villain here) tries to bolt it immediately. We could either cycle Unearth and then brainstorm in response (winning the game) or wait for Lab Man to die, Unearth it, and hold brainstorm in case there's a second piece of removal. Or just make a pile of Lab Man, recursion, brainstorm, and two flex slots for draw or protection.

Remember for these examples that we're passing the turn and drawing into the first card naturally unless otherwise noted. If you've got a Ponder still in your hand when you cast Doomsday, that resilience should count for something, no? You get to go off a turn faster, and the tightest builds get to go off really early (esp. with Dark Ritual).

Left card is the top of the deck.

'just the brainstorms, thanks' pile: (negate on the bottom brainstorms out a turn faster but doesn't protect your first brainstorm)

'he's already in the lab' pile

'high school boyfriend' pile (eternal witness gets back doomsday but he forgot to bring protection)

'johnny five aces' pile (he gets all the goods)

Conveniently there's actually all sorts of marginal stuff (at a few power levels!) we might already be running to support DDLM combo and probably wouldn't suck that much to include (although I think Brainstorm and Unearth will be key to making it work):

Sensei's Divining Top

Unearth

Thoughtseize

Darkblast

Lotus Petal

Chromatic Sphere

Conjurer's Bauble

Duress

Eternal Witness

Thought Scour

Painful Truths

Tezzeret's Gambit

Breakthrough

Meditate

Dark Ritual

Cabal Therapy

Gitaxian Probe

Brainstorm

Snapcaster Mage

Mnemonic Wall

Ancestral Vision

Relic of Progenitus

Faithless Looting

Red Sun's Zenith

Emerge Unscathed

Chain of Vapor

Ill-Gotten Gains

Unearth is awesome because, like Thought Scour from earlier, it pulls double duty: recurring Lab Man or drawing the last card you need (since if lab man dies in response to the cycle, you'd lose and be unable to unearth regardless). Brainstorm's resolution involves drawing three cards before you put back two; if there's two cards in your library it'll win the game as well. These are the heavy hitters in Cube, but obviously the looseness of the tutor leaves our panicked drafter open to alternatives.

Next time, I’ll talk about the Tendrils of Agony kill, but this has already gone on for long enough. 

ALLEZ CUISINE

[chinxino5-blog]

It’s A Package Deal - Nineteen

IMPORTANT - so this is the chapter some of you have already read and i’m so sorry about that, I missed c.18 because I was rushing and don’t check things because I’m dumb. So go read c.18 and then reread this or whatever, it’ll make way more sense. 

Eighteen

“Bryce.” Ohm’s voice was low and hushed, unsure of who accompanied the black-eyed man into the unit. Dealing with armed idiots as well as a hyperventilating Bryce having a panic attack, was more than he could currently handle. “Bryce listen to me, you’re going to have a panic attack. Focus on my voice, okay?”

Bryce’s mind swirled, taking each word in and processing them individually. His wide blue eyes focussed on the man holding his arms in the darkness. He felt the cold tiles against the top of his feet and his knees, felt the other kneeling just in front of him. He gasped in another breath of musky air. “Of course I’m having a panic attack, I’m going to get killed,” he hissed between clamped teeth. “I’m going to be shot and taken and killed. They’re going to hurt me. They’re going to kill me. I’m dying, I’m dying, I’m dying…”

He wheezed as he tried to recover the oxygen his words consumed and Ohm’s hands slipped up to his shoulders. He squeezed lightly.

“Hey.” The gentleness of his voice slipped into Bryce’s lungs with dusty air and he felt his cramped body settle ever-so-slightly. It was different to the usual snapping or monotonous tones he used. It was nicer. “Focus on my voice. Take deeper breaths, you’ll be o—“

“I can’t,” Bryce whimpered, his breathing getting faster and shorter and emptier and- “I need something else. I can’t… I can’t breathe… I need… fuck…”

Ohm raised a hand to Bryce’s cheek, squeezing his shoulder again and holding him there. He could just make out the glimmer of distress and fear in his oceanic eyes. He didn’t like it. “Focus on me.” The words were out of his mouth before he thought to analyse them and he pushed his lips against Bryce’s. They were weighted and purposed and they knew what they were doing more than he did.

He shocked himself probably more than he shocked Bryce as the blonde had a few seconds of what the fuck is going on before realising he was being kissed. His panicked breathing was cut off and he switched to using his nose instead as he moved his lips. His eyes closed. His thoughts drew blank. He forgot about the bathroom, the dust, the gunshots, the body. He forgot about everything except Ohm and how hands were firm and comforting against his skin.

Compared to the first time, Ohm was more aware of what he was doing as he moved closer to the lankier man. The tension and panic within and between them slowed and lessened. He tilted his head, pressing closer, letting his tongue wander. He could feel the other’s breath against his cheek and lip.

Bryce breathed. He sat back on his heels and lifted heavy hands to the back of Ohm’s neck and head, and kissed back with a need. A need to be held, to be touched, to be taken care of.

A need for Ohm.

Ohm pressed forward as Bryce relaxed, chasing what also relieved the tension between his shoulders. He let the hand on Bryce’s shoulder slide to the side of his neck, kissing with as much as he could. Kissing in a way that relaxed him more each second and had the man before him melting.

He nipped at the blonde’s bottom lip and felt him sigh into his mouth.

When the hitman pulled back, he tried to look less dazed than he felt and eased himself back onto the tiles. Bryce almost followed after him, chest swelling with big deep breaths that contrasted majorly to those he breathed only moments earlier.

Ohm didn’t know whether he wanted to look Bryce in the eye, unsure about accepting he had an issue. Kissing the blonde was wrong on so many levels but there he was going back on a pricey deal and trying to get away from a gang who had a lot of guns and a lot of men. The kiss was one of the least of his issues but the biggest in his thoughts. Even so, he did what he did best and pushed it out of sight, pretending it never existed. Unfortunately for him, his issue had working lungs and a voice that didn’t seem to stop.

It was difficult to pretend he didn’t exist, but it didn’t stop Ohm from trying.

“Are you alright?” He pushed those thoughts (and memories) from his mind and focused on Bryce who was still recovering. From the almost panic attack, or the kiss, neither knew.

After a moment, he got a slow nod and blue eyes fluttered in the darkness. Ohm resisted grabbing his face and slotting their lips back together as he eased back onto his worn sneakers and pulled Bryce up also.

Bryce felt cold metal push against his hands and peered down at the glinting weapon. He could feel the hitman’s gaze, one of firm caution and couldn’t help the ice cold shudder that sunk into his bones.

He’d killed someone. He’d killed a man, likely with a wife, maybe even kids. A man with a heart and lungs and thoughts just like his own.

He had stopped that heart. He had left that family without a husband and a father. He had killed someone.

The warm hands curled over his, wrapping his frozen fingers around the weapon despite how much they didn’t want to. He looked up at the silver eyes with worry. The hitman wore a mask of calmness but didn’t bother hiding the caution left by Bryce’s episode. As much as he could try to pretend he didn’t, he cared and seeing the man in such distress wasn’t going to be good for what they were about to do.

“It’s okay.” His words were still almost silent and he kept as close to Bryce as he comfortably could. In the back of his mind he knew they should be moving, should be making sure there was no one else - but no one had made a sound and engines never followed them up to the dusty unit.

Even so, there was not much to be done about the paranoia and he kept straining his ears around each of his words.

“If you hesitated, he wouldn’t have.” The words were scarce but they were true, although the realistic side of his mind told him that maybe taking advice from a murderer with emotional constipation wasn’t his best idea. He silenced that part and nodded shakily, reasoning with himself. The gang member had also held a gun and it was clear he wasn’t coming upstairs to offer them a cup of tea. Had Bryce not put a hole between his ribs, the results would have been quite displeasing for the blonde.

He didn’t particularly like the idea of bleeding out of stained, dusty carpet.

“Do you know how to shoot?” Bryce’s mind was lured from the body outside their cramped bathroom and he leant into the space Ohm occupied. He shook his head, despite the way his index finger burnt from the touch of the trigger.

Before he could process it, Ohm had moved around behind him and calloused fingers crawled from his elbows to his wrists. The twenty-two year old froze up at the pressure of his back to Ohm’s chest and the muscled arms mirroring his either side of him. He was all too aware of every little brush of contact and felt red warmth glow all over the side of his neck where the brunette’s breath touched.

Words were circling his head as gloved hands adjusted his grip, instructions of how to hold the gun, how to aim the gun, how to shoot the gun.

“Keep your finger on the trigger, you have to be ready.” The words made him shudder and shiver and he couldn’t stop himself from wondering how many triggers Ohm had tugged. How many of those tugs had led to death on concrete, on carpet, on floorboards.

His anxiety skyrocketed as he slipped his finger into the ring, pushing it against the metal so it didn’t at all touch the trigger. The slightest contact terrified him and he stayed coiled painfully, waiting for the gun to jerk with a loud bang and more blood.

Bryce held the gun a little higher and Ohm’s hands thoughtlessly dropped to the blonde’s waist. He didn’t acknowledge the sharp intake of air and watched closely as the gun was pointed into the dusty darkness, analysing his positioning.

The hands around the gun shook violently, despite how much their owner tried to stop them. Bryce flinched back against Ohm at the sound of a creak just below them and they both stayed completely still and silent. Their little gun lesson was put on hold. The hitman listened, hearing little creaks and complaints from the house around them. It wasn’t strong enough to hold them all and he wandered just how many it was supporting.

Bryce grit his teeth as Ohm breathed in and out against his chest. The hands on his hips burnt with satisfaction and the blonde couldn’t help but feel like they had to be there, as much as he told himself that was stupid and Ohm was still a hitman, and he was still unpredictable, and they were both going to die before they set foot outside of LA. He silenced his own rambling thoughts.

When Ohm squeezed lightly, Bryce jumped but focused on the words breathed into his hair not the way they made him shudder. “They’re going to come up, find the body and search the room. When they come in here, I will kill them. Then we are going to go downstairs, get one of those cars and go. Stay behind me and stay close. Do not hesitate.”

Bryce resisted the urge to turn and press his mouth back to Ohm’s and instead nodded in the darkness. The older man was close enough to feel the movement. He removed his hands and body, slinking back towards the door and into the darkness. Bryce took a moment to breathe in and out, before moving back toward where the tiniest glimmer of light filtered under the door. He placed himself on the other side, unable to even make out Ohm’s figure in the darkness.

He rested his arm against the cold wall and they both waited like statues.

The sound of the bedroom door creaking open pulled Bryce’s eyes from his feet and he waited. The quietest of curses dropped from someone’s throat. Soft footfalls crossing the room and past the bathroom door. Footfalls of more than one person.

He waited still, his body tensing up more and more like an elastic band being twisted, and twisted, and twisted. He was ready to snap.

More murmuring, too far and too quiet to understand. Bryce picked up a few words like, “fuckers…”, “get that…”, and “look every…”

He pressed the top of the gun to his chest, clenching the handle too tightly.

Bryce counted thirteen seconds before the doorhandle just beside him jittered. Light leaked into their room before suddenly he could see the entirety of their shitty bathroom hiding place. He didn’t have time to examine.

Ohm shot from where we was crouched, sending the first man back against the door and to the ground. He waited half a second before two others jumped into the room, guns ablaze. Ohm spent three shots before he was grabbing at Bryce’s wrist and dragging him out of the room. Blue eyes stayed wide as they looked everywhere but the three bodies he walked over. He didn’t like to think about what he’d stepped on as he rushed from the room and downstairs. The front door crashed open and a woman fell back out of the house dead before she even stepped in.

The gun in Bryce’s hand didn’t need to be used and he only stared at Ohm in a mix of fear and gratitude. He much preferred not shooting it and just pretending the bodies didn’t exist.

He didn’t want to look over his shoulder either. He knew he’d only see bloodied footprints and nothing made him want to vomit more.

“Come on,” Ohm hissed, giving his arm a yank before dropping it completely and leaning out the busted open door. No one else stood outside but two motor bikes stood tall. “Get on.” Bryce nodded hastily, absolutely clueless about driving bikes. He took the helmet, hoping he’d also be able to take it off without holes in it, before settling on the back of the vehicle behind Ohm.

Unsure and more worried than before, he grabbed fistfuls of the hitman’s sweatshirt. Sirens were sounding in the distance and they could hear engines roaring up and down streets and alleys around them.

“Bryce,” Ohm turned slightly, his helmet concealing his expression. His voice was clear enough in his don’t-be-an-idiot tone. “You’re going to want to hold on a bit tighter than that.”

The blonde second-guessed himself, shifting forward as the engine below him revved. His arms curled loosely around Ohm’s waist and the moment they began to move he tightened them with the increasing fear that flooded him. He didn’t want to think of his body flying from the bike and skidding along asphalt.

He didn’t like the idea of becoming street art.

The adrenaline was beginning to sink into Ohm’s lungs as the bike flew between the buildings. He couldn’t help the grimace of a smirk that crawled onto his face, as sickening excitement filled him. He loved the action of city crime life. Being on the run almost constantly and so easily confident in his own ability, he could only laugh.

It was a cold, dry kind of amusement that coated his attitude and seeped through his words but he couldn’t do much to change it as the sound of other small engines started up behind them. Old habits stick. Bryce was too scared to even look back as they found themselves in a windy alley system he thought too complex to even exist.

He tucked his head down, helmet to Ohm’s back, and held on. They were going too fast. Way too fast. It was too risky, they would spin out of control in seconds. They were going to be killed by a fucking motorcycle.

And then they weren’t. Ohm slowed the vehicle down reasonably smoothly before throwing it to the side when both were on their feet. He shot both tires as Bryce shrugged off the helmet (hole-less, thankfully) and looked up at the dead end they’d found themselves at.

A large fence stopped them in their path and Bryce looked at Ohm hopelessly. He was completely unfazed, striding up to it and nodding at the blonde. “C’mere; I’ll boost you.” Ohm saw the untrusting blue glide over the mangled wire and he hardened his stare. “Bryce. No hesitating, come on.”

With a heavy exhale, he stepped up onto the man’s hands and allowed himself to be shoved upwards, grabbing the metal pole and slinging his leg over it. He steadied himself before dropping to the dirt below just before Ohm dropped down beside him.

There was no time to blink in surprise before engines revved closer and the street entrance was blocked off by several dark cars.

Ohm doubted they were there to set up some stalls and he dragged Bryce down the back of the building, stopping to drop down behind some tables on their sides. Bryce crouched down, and the two listened close as stomping shoes spread out around the area.

“Look behind and under everything,” a voice boomed, and the two looked at each other.

Bryce saw confidence and self-assurance in the swirls of silver. They represented the hitman himself: calculated and quick. He knew what he was doing. He knew how to handle himself. He was confident.

Bryce however doubted everything. He doubted himself, his thoughts and feelings and actions. His ability to do what he had to do. Killing someone did not come easy. He was a college student, not a murderer. He doubted Ohm, doubted that he really gave a shit, doubted that he was able to get them out of there, doubted he wouldn’t get sick of the dead weight hanging off his shoulders.

But with approaching footsteps, he didn’t have time for doubts.

“Stay here. Use your gun if you have to, don’t do anything dumb. Yell if you really need to but don’t let them know where you are otherwise.” Ohm thoughtlessly brushed his hand against the blonde’s arm and nodded reassuringly. “Don’t hesitate.”

If you hesitate, they won’t.

Then he was watching Ohm move. Shades were drawn down the backs of old gazebos, concealing the hitman as he snuck further along the edge of the markets.

Ohm had his confidence. He settled behind some crates and peeked through the cracks in the aged wood. He always had a plan, whether it was set out on paper or just spreading as he moved. He knew what he was doing.

That much was for certain.

All he needed was a gun in his hands and he was perfect.

First: Prologue

Previous: Eighteen

Next: Twenty

#brohm #brohm fic #brohm fanfic #fic #fanfic #bbs #bbs fic #bbs fanfic #nineteen #hitman!ohmwrecker #stockholm syndrome #it's a package deal #its a package deal #im so soRRY FOR STUFFING IT UPPP #love you guys

[wrldtravler]

The One Where Drunk Felicity Checks an Item Off Her Bucket List

So, my muse for my other stories has been unfortunately fickle lately. Instead, here’s a fun little fic for this week’s Hiatus prompt: Impaired Judgement! For some context, this is set in season 2 :)

Read it below or on AO3

Pulling his Ducati into the back alley of Verdant, Oliver took a moment to check his surroundings, making sure there weren't any drunk idiots stumbling around back here, before quickly disappearing through the back entrance to the lair.

Their mission tonight had been a spectacular fail. It was nothing more than a low-life criminal involved in some minor yet problematic cocaine dealing, but somehow everything went wrong every step of the way, even with Felicity's help, and the guy got away. What was supposed to be a routine mission ended in bitter disappointment.

In his frustration, Oliver had sent Dig home for the night. Dig had done nothing wrong, but Oliver wasn't really in the mood to feel Dig's concerned eyes on him the rest of the night.

Stepping into the light of the lair, Oliver flipped his hood back and peeled his mask off with a heavy sigh. He would have scrubbed a tired hand over his face if it weren't for the traces of grease paint he still used around his eyes.

A few steps in, he paused. Something was off.

It was a little too quiet, especially with Felicity still here. "Felicity?" He called out curiously as he moved past the salmon ladder towards the metal tables marking off their workspace in the lair.

The only answer that greeted him was the rhythmic thumping of the music filtering into the space from Verdant's main floor.  

Touching the comms link on his chest, Oliver's frown deepened as he slowly turned on the spot, his eyes diligently searching every corner of the lair.  "Felicity?"

There was no response from her end. His heart thudded loudly in his chest. He probably had no reason to worry about her, but he couldn't help it. It wasn't like her to disappear without telling either he or Dig, especially without turning off her computers.

"Oliver?" Her breathy albeit a little confused voice suddenly came over the comms. "I completely forgot I had you inside of me." She slurred, giggling to herself.

A tiny smile cracked his frustrated, concerned façade at her little slip up. If he weren't so disappointed by his performance tonight, he would allow himself to appreciate her innuendo in other ways too, but only because she wasn't in the room to see his reaction.

For now, though, he needed to find her. "Felicity, where are you? Are you okay? I just got back and you aren't here."

"Always so worried." She giggled again. "I'm upstairs, silly."

He paused, blinking a few times. "What?"

"Needed a break, and knew you'd be upset so wanted to give your brooding some space. So, I'm upstairs!" She proclaimed with her adorably broken logic and slurred words.

Everything made so much sense now. He was glad she was okay, but a little worried by her reasoning. He didn't ever want her to feel like she wasn't welcome in the lair if he was in a bad mood. Though he was never perfect, she was the last person he would ever think about hurting. She meant too much to him.

"I can come back downstairs if you need help." She offered after a beat.

Stepping up to the glass case for his suit, he carefully replaced his bow and quiver for now. He'd worry about changing in a minute.

"Don't worry about it, I was just going to shut things down and go home. Have fun. The music sounds great from here." He responded with a soft laugh. She deserved a break, no matter the reason that actually took her upstairs, so he was happy to give her that for a night.

Her end was quiet again after that, so he figured she went back to whatever she was doing upstairs.

Moving over to her computers, he turned them off like he'd seen her do a thousand times. Luckily, he had the routine down pat, otherwise he knew Felicity would actually kill him for hurting her babies.

"Wait." She breathed frantically into the comms. "I'll be right down. I need to do something..." She said, but more mumbled the last part. He shouldn't have heard it over the noise of the club, but luckily Felicity invested in very sensitive equipment.

Going over to the lighting panel right next to the stairs, he flipped off a few of the unessential lights, the room now bathed in a soft glow from the remaining lights. Moments later he heard the electronic lock buzz for the door above him and it opened a little jerkily to reveal Felicity.

"Hey!" She greeted cheerily with a big smile as she carefully made her way down the stairs on her wobbly legs.

Shifting his body to face her, a small smile lifted his lips as he watched her navigate the stairs. She almost looked like the Felicity he had left when he went on his mission tonight, but there were a few subtle signs that she had a little bit too much to drink. Her beautiful golden hair had been released from its usual ponytail and fell in tumbling waves over her back and shoulders, her blue eyes were bright and a little unfocused, and there was the subtle pink tinge to her cheeks, no doubt from the alcohol.

Most noticeably, Felicity looked relaxed. It was something about the way she carried herself. He thought she'd never looked more beautiful.

That didn't change even when she stumbled down the last few steps. He found it oddly endearing.

Quickly shuffling to his left, he caught her before she fell to the ground, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist and pulling her into his chest. "I got you." He assured as he felt her hands grip his forearms tightly, leaning on him a little to steady herself.

When she finally straightened herself, she looked up to him with a meek smile and a tinge of embarrassment. Patting one of his firm forearms she cleared her throat and took a shaky step back.

Oliver held back a sigh as he let his arms fall from her waist. When he looked at her again, he noticed her nervous gaze looking at everything but him. Figuring it was just because of her little clumsy moment just then, he tried to distract her from it. "So, what did you need?"

She bit her lip, still refusing to look at him. "I... I need you to put your mask back on."

That was unexpected and definitely left him very confused."What? Felicity, are you..."

"Just, please... put it on. For me?" She cut in suddenly, but softly.

The corner of his mouth twitched. She played the card he couldn't refuse, whether she knew that or not. Of course, because she was asking, he would do it.

Sliding his gloved hand into the pocket of his jacket, he retrieved the mask he stuffed in there earlier and slowly slid the elastic over his head, fixing the mask in place again.

With her eyes fixed on his chest, Felicity took a deep breath before stepping up to him again until there were no more than a few inches between them.

She had his attention now. His eyes were fixated on her, tracking ever little movement of her lips, her hands, her eyes... anything he could see honestly.

His breathing quickened a little in anticipation when he saw her lift her hands. Without hesitation, she reached up and took hold of his hood only to pull it back over his head.

Her trepid eyes looked up to his from under her lashes, and he stared back at her from under his hood with confusion in his own eyes. Despite his confusion, and even though he knew she had been drinking, he trusted her implicitly.

Slowly, she let his hood slip from her fingers as she brought her steady hands down to rest on his chest. "I, uh, am clearly really drunk, drunk enough to think this isn't totally insane." She stuttered, still slurring her words a few times, her eyes darkening as she watched him.

"And, what is this?" He said lowly, his voice bordering on the one he used as the Hood before the voice modulator.

He noticed Felicity's sharp inhale instantly, his gaze still fixed on her even though her eyes slid shut momentarily. When they opened up to meet his again, something had shifted and she looked more determined than ever – a look he knew all too well and one that did all sorts of things to him.

"I have this bucket list, but there's one item on it I never thought I'd get to do because... it's unthinkable." She said and then paused to take a long breath. "I've always had this fantasy of kissing the Hood, you see. I love the mystery of it all. And if I don't do it now, when the chance I won't remember how stupid I've been in the morning is this high, I won't ever cross that one off."

His next breath caught in his throat and one of his hands shot out to grip her waist to balance himself. He was in shock. Felicity wanted to kiss him as the Hood. Correction, she was about to kiss him as the Hood.

He knew he should stop her, tell her that she needed to just go back upstairs. Oliver knew he would beat himself up later if he let her do this while she was this drunk. At the same time, he wanted this just as badly as she did. Maybe, just this once, he could let himself be with her because she wasn't kissing him as Oliver, but rather as the Hood. Still, no matter how tempting her luscious red lips looked, he couldn't let her do this.

"Felicity..." He growled out.

"Please... don't. Please don't say no, just this once. I know what I'm doing."

Dragging his eyes up to hers from her lips, he was blown away by the conviction in her gaze and the absolute desire she radiated.

His hand on her hip squeezed gently.

A soft smile curled her lips. She understood.

Flicking her gaze down to his lips, she slid one hand under his hood to cup his scruffy jaw, the other hand on his chest gripping the leather as she lifted onto her toes. Instantly, his lips parted in anticipation as his heart pounded wildly in his chest.

Without hesitation, her lips molded over his bottom one and he closed down around her top lip in the softest of kisses. Felicity pulled back a little a moment later, though her lips never left his, and then she surprised him by slanting her mouth over his, opening up a little more to deepen the kiss and Oliver moved his lips with hers in the most natural of dances, like this was something they had done a thousand times before. Leaning into him a little more, to the point where he could feel every single one of her delicious curves even through his leather suit, Felicity curled her fingers over his jaw, scratching her nails through his scruff as they changed positions for a few more stolen, sinful kisses.

Just when he thought this moment would never end, and right as he was about to say screw it, lift her up and take her over to the sparring mat to continue what they started, Felicity finally pulled away. Her mouth still hovered over his and their noses brushed one another as they stood there panting from the sheer intensity of those kisses.

After a moment, Felicity's breathy voice filtered through the haze that had settled over his brain the minute her lips touched his. "Don't tell Oliver. This'll be our little secret, Mr. Hood."

He couldn't help the grin that tugged at his lips. "Secret safe with me." He said in his low, growly voice again.

Dropping back down onto her feet, Felicity smiled brightly up at him, the pink tinging her cheeks when she came down stairs earlier a little more pronounced now. With a quick pat on his chest, she spun on the balls of her feet and climbed the stairs again. "G'night!" She slurred over her shoulder at him, only wobbling a little as she walked away.

Oliver didn't respond right away, nor could he look away from her even after the door closed behind her, leaving him alone in the lair again.

Of course, Oliver had imagined kissing Felicity at least a dozen times before now. But, nothing his brain ever conjured compared to what he had just experienced, and he would be fooling himself if he said there wasn't a spark there. After that kiss, they both knew it. No doubt about it. Who knew that all it would have taken for him to admit the truth to himself was one adorably drunk and bold Felicity Smoak.

With a small smile on his lips, he pulled his hood back once more and slipped the mask off too. "Good night, Felicity."

@thebookjumper

#ohfat #arrow #arrow fanfiction #olicity fanfiction #impaired judgement #kisses in the GA suit #because who wouldn't have that on their bucket list