#and it's supposed to be obvious that he's a hack... :'D

[meowmeowmeowmeow4x]

Dark Blue Moon and the Suffering Sun Chapter 16

MASTAPOST

tell me what u like about the chapter :D guess where the story's going, anything! gimme fuel qwq

Damian lay on his belly on Phantom’s chest as the boy floated just underneath the surface. It was night time, and the Atlantean town they’d sacked was far behind them now. Here they only had the stars to accompany them, wobbling and swaying over the distortion of the water.

They were so close… Damian pushed himself up with his arms. His head breached the surface, water washing over his face like a veil. His eyes widened as he took in the beauty of the night sky, much more comfortable without the blinding sunlight when he’d first tried this.

There was something comforting about the stars, something beautiful outside this world that would be there no matter what, even in his most miserable nights with the League. It was something he missed when he moved the Manor underneath Gotham’s smog-filled skies.

Damian pushed himself further, balancing himself on his tail and hip fins instead of his arms. The gentle sea breeze prickled at his wet scales, causing him to shiver. It brushed against his ear fins and gave a sense of immeasurable calm. Just him, Danny, the stars and the whistle in the wind.

And a feeling of suffocation.

Damian’s lungs demanded air. Or was it water? He inhaled deeply, taking in the smell of the sea from above it rather than underneath, but it didn’t help. He inhaled again, but the pressure remained.

What- What was this madness?! Sirens could breathe over water. This was indisputable. Danny had been able to breathe and talk over water the night Damian was transformed. Damian was able to breathe air and talk then. Damian sucked in more and more air, desperately trying to sate the need for oxygen. Why couldn’t he breathe?!

 Damian’s vision twisted. His head spun. His chest felt like knives being stabbed into it.

Hands grabbed him. Danny pulled him back under, where the water provided sweet relief. Damian clutched his chest, as if any moment now he would drown again.

“Are you ok Damian?” Danny’s hands hovered over him, like he was fragile china. Damian scowled.

“Why couldn’t I breathe? What has happened to me?” Damian asked, demanded, heavy with accusation.

“Dude, your lungs are water balloons right now. You gotta empty ‘em out before you can breathe air.” Danny said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Damian’s cheeks burned. He turned his back on Danny and crossed his arms.

“I was aware. I was merely testing you.”

Danny poked him in the sail, the sensitive touch causing Damian to hiss instinctively. “I mean if you’re the siren expert, then by all means!”

Damian did not dignify him with a response. Instead, he surfaced again, determined. Instead of inhaling in panic, trying to pump air into lungs at full capacity, Damian focused on exhaling, on pushing the water out.

His throat cramped with pain. The young siren gargled and gasped. His throat clamped and throbbed, like he was pushing a jagged boulder up. He barely managed to spit out a meagre drop of water before Danny dragged him under again.

The older boy pulled him to his chest, stroking his back as Damian coughed and hacked.

“Ok that was my bad, are you ok?” Danny said, ear fins drooping. Damian wheezed, his eyes closing as the pain abated.

“Do you go through this every time you surface?” Damian shuddered. What would happen to him once he got home? He wouldn’t be able to walk, and now couldn’t even breathe without immense pain.

“Hehe, no.” Danny deadpanned. “You’re supposed to use your gills.”

Danny tapped on his own gills. Instinctively, Damian moved his elbows to cover his. Lately he had been keeping sane by not thinking too much about the creepy feeling of having water flow through the slits in his chest, how exposed and vulnerable it made him feel. How it gave him a glaring weakness that could be easily exploited.

“Just open up your gills, and let the water drain out. It’s that simple.”

Damian sputtered. “What did you say?”

Danny shrugged, like he was explaining grade school mathematics to a two-year-old. “Like this.”

Danny’s gills flapped open. It was only from years of stoic training that Damian did not gag at the sight of Danny’s pale flesh revealed underneath his aquatic breathing apparatus. His eyes trailed to his own set of gills.

“Is there another way?” Damian was not avoiding this issue, nor was he ‘procrastinating’ as Richard would insipidly suggest. He was merely searching for a more optimal alternative.

“We’re sea creatures, Damian. I consider myself lucky for being able to not drown in air at all.”

Damian swallowed the lump in his throat. He was the son of Batman and Talia Al Ghul. He could face this. Being unable to breathe above water would make him a liability on this journey. He had to push through.

Damian prepared to resurface, gathering his nerves.

“Just relax. You can do it, Damian. It’ll be as easy as breathing.”

Encouraged by the prospect of not hearing any more puns, Damian pushed his upper half over the surface. Accordingly, Danny also pushed closer. This high over the water, Damian wobbled as his body adjusted to his weight in the air.

The pressure started to mount on his chest. Damian focused on the slits between his ribs, on the alien feeling of wind blowing into them and hitting exposed flesh. He squinted his eyes and tried to push the water out through his gills. He flexed and contracted his arms and stomach, searching for the unconscious switch in his brain that could activate the write muscles.

It was too much. He went under again.

“This is proving more difficult than I had anticipated.” Damian huffed, chest heaving from strain.

“I can tell.” At Damian’s glare, the older boy raised his hands in defense. “Hey, you looked legit constipated up there. I was starting to worry you’d actually make a mess of yourself. Now, like I said, all you need to do is-”

Damian hissed at the older boy’s mockery. “I can take care of myself. I need no advice to do something as simple as breathing. Thank you.”

Damian glared at the surface, the invisible barrier between this world and the old one, and redoubled his efforts. The pressure came back. Damian twisted his body and nerves, but he couldn’t get a single gasp of air in. He sank. He re-emerged, he suffocated again. Each time Damian pushed himself further, only to be met with the same difficulty. Each time left him sorer, more cramped.

Until after many an attempt, Damian slumped against Danny’s chest, scaled skin warm despite the cold, deep-sea looking appearance. His muscles turned to jelly, even as he feebly pushed against the older boy’s scales for another attempt.

The young siren felt soft hands wrap around his waist. Damian tried to push away, to wiggle out. Danny’s chest vibrated with a low him, and it was like his strings were cut, and Damian’s resistance ceased. All he could do was mutter weakly.

“What are you doing?”

Danny surfaced, arms keeping Damian under, until they began to pull him up too. Damian’s heart accelerated. He could not stop the frightened chitters forcing their way out. His fins went rigid. Was this it? Did Phantom finally lose his patience, and decide Damian was no longer worth the effort? This was bad. He needed to escape and he needed to escape yesterday.

But as Damian began to struggle, the rumbling vibrations from the elder’s chest intensified, and the small boy went limp again. His muscles, sore from exertion and rendered even weaker by the strange biological signal, refused to move. All he could do was tilt his head away, trying to delay the inevitable. Helplessly, he watched the surface creep closer and closer, until he went over.

Damian waited for his death. In his prayers, he apologised to Father, to Richard, even to Drake, for everything. In this moment, as tears pricked his eyes as he was helpless but to drown in fresh, oxygen-rich air, Damian resigned himself.

The pressure did not come.

His chest tingled. Pinpricks poked the skin and outer scales, and along the lining of his gills. Water ran down his chest and over his abdomen. Damian blinked, and looked down.

His gills were open, fully open, gaping wide and exposing his insides for the world to see, but they were open. And water flowed out of them, emptying his lungs. Damian gasped, and felt sweet relief as cold, burning, fresh air finally filtered into his body. His body wracked from the sweet release, chest struggling to accommodate the big greedy gulps he took.

“And now you shut them, keep the air going out the other way.”

Damian nodded glumly. That he could manage. A swift motion, and the flaps of scales and skin shut tightly, leaving only thin lines on his body to suggest that he ever had gills in the first place.

For a moment, he felt human. Even as he actively commanded his breaths, he felt more like a normal human again than he had in the last 48 hours.

“T-thank you.” Damian said, cursing the weakness in his voice. Not to mention how it sounded completely different now, travelling through water instead of air. It was unnerving, but he couldn’t place why. He felt too tired for more riddles about his body. “You have saved me a great inconvenience.”

Danny quietly chuckled. “It was literally what I told you. You need to loosen your muscles to get the water out. This whole time you’ve been all tight and wound up like a spring lock. Dude I think you even sleep all locked up too. That can’t be healthy.”

Sleep was when you were at your most vulnerable. Any threat could walk by and do with you whatever they pleased. In his life, there would be danger at every turn. It was a sentiment he’d expressed to the others in his family when they too voiced the same concerns.

He would never be safe in this life.

A finger poked his cheek. Damian snapped his teeth at the infantilizing gesture, only for it to retreat back just as quickly. He turned around and looked up, muscles no longer rendered limp by the subjugating vibrations.

Danny pointed to the sky, a soft smile on his face.

“It’s a good night to stargaze, isn’t it?” A comet whizzed by in the night, a streak of white trailing behind it, like an artist’s brush across a canvas. Now that he could breathe again, Damian felt an overwhelming sense of calm again, treading water and watching the stars shine.

#dpxdc #danny fenton #merman #damian wayne #dcxdp #merboy #angst #danny phantom #mermaid au #merboys #mermaid transformation #transformation angst #animal instincts #mer biology #sirens #damian drowns in air #drowning #suffocation #comfort #fluff

[cyberpsychotic-purgatory]

Baited at N I D

Music: Drained - Rhys Fulber

Arriving at the CHOO2 station that he'd sent Optic. He was already there, leaning against his motorcycle. After running over a few minor details, they head to the presumed location of where Raymond was supposed to be holed up. A motel, go figure… A few goons hangin around the parking lot, eyeballing the obvious outsiders. A couple tap others on the arm to get their attention. Jack can feel the eyes on him, 5 maybe 6 pairs boring holes into skull.

"May as well go ahead and make it 50 now"

Jack can't help but let out a chuckle.  "we'll see"

"What are you, broke?"

Walking up to the door, Jack rings the intercom.

A distorted voice plays over the intercom. "The fuck you want"

Jack Rolls Human Perception - Crit fail with a 4 after stats.   He doesn't notice that the voice is synthetic.

"Here to talk to Raymond."

"Here to talk to Raymond" The voice mocks back.  "OBVIOUSLY YOU FUCK! THE FUCK YOU WANT?!"

The voice over the intercom is agitated and aggressive. Jack Rolls Resist (19). He maintains his composure. 

"Can't exactly say it out in the open. How about you let me in and we talk about it in private. Unless you want all your chooms to know about all this money you're about to make?"

Jack rolls persuasion (18) vs Ray's Crit success (23)

"How about you go fuck yourself sideways and have your friend scroll it for me huh?"

"Not into watchin" Optic says. 

Optic rolls Cool (18) vs Ray's (17)

"Hah! Funny. Listen funny guy can fuck off outside but you come in."

Jack looks at Optic to see how he feels about it.

Optic shrugs, "I'll be alright."

Optic walks over to a nearby Vend-It and gets a Nicola. The door slides open. A cold breeze is felt blowing out from the door. Visibility is low, it's too bright outside.

Jack opens an active line with Optic. "You read me?"

"Yea you're good."

Stepping into the dark room, sparsely illuminated by red lighting, A man is sitting in a chair at the other side of the room. The room is cold. Really cold. Taking a moment for his eyes to adjust, he sees a few Net towers in the corner of the room. Fog from the liquid nitrogen cooling pours out onto the floor, rolling across the carpet like tendrils of death creeping their way towards him….

"You Ray?"

"You Jack?"

He knows my name?

Suddenly his call drops. No signal.

"Your silence is all I needed."

Jack activates his red lighting on his mask and takes an aggressive posture. His Nightmare fuel primed in a gas grenade.

"Fuck that meatbag, you can't scare me… (He steps out into the light. A Maelstrom member with a gasmask appears, his Glowing Red eyes activating, all 5 of them, as he raises his hand to show a syringe. "How good is your immunity?"

Jack rolls Reflex (19) He quickly reaches for his gun

"Too slow"

Suddenly, Jack's body seizes up, his vision turns into glitchy distorted non-sense as his Kiroshi's are hacked.

An Alert on his internal system warn him of a Deamon upload cracking through his ICE like a hot knife through butter.  The last thing he sees is the man Maelstromer walking up to him, laughing in a synthetic grotesque voice as Gunfire can be heard outside, and the syringe being lowered towards him before the Deamon knocks him out entirely.

#cyberpunk #cyberpunk 2077 #lonc #cyberpunk red #water on mars #cyberpsychotic purgatory #cyberpunk 2077 photomode #cyberpunk red campaign #dreadmed #legends of night city #story telling #roleplay #get jumped #Maelstrom #They didn't forget #my: oc jack ' dreadmed' adams

[finitefall]

Heya! I have a feeling we’ll get Winds of Winter either this year or next year. Probably next year. But… can I confess something? GRRM isn’t like D&D from everything I have seen. Unlike them he cares about his story and his characters very very much. And I know Dany is one of his favorites and he fully supports her ending slavery. With Fire and Blood if she must. Unlike the two hacks who think Dany is evil for killing slave masters (“good and innocent” slave masters they tried to portray). But… I never thought we would get that disgusting awful ending that we got in the shitty season. That’s why part of me is really really afraid that what if GRRM is gonna give Dany an awful ending? I suppose I could accept Dany dying if she dies as a hero and to protect her people and her loved ones. But I much rather she lived even if she doesn’t become Queen. But… I have seen a lot of comments on YouTube and social media and on Discord and they said that it’s obvious in the books Dany will go mad. I really just want our girl to get a good ending but it seems these idiots are determined to make people like me scared that she will end the same way in the books. And some of these guys even claim to like Dany but that it’s obvious she’ll go mad.

I feel you. While waiting for season 8, I still had hope, even though by then I knew D&D and it shouldn't have come as a surprise that they would give us this awful, out of character, misogynistic ending. And yet, it hit me hard. So I understand that when people say the books are different and she's obviously not gonna have this awful ending, we can think: "well, I didn't expect the show would do this either even after all the crap they had done in the previous seasons, so better be prepared this time". But as you say, GRRM isn't D&D. Their social and political opinions aren't the same at all. Martin isn't talking about "innocent slavers" and isn't against revolution.

There are already plenty of differences between her characterization in the books and in the show. It still didn't make sense in the show, but it would make even less sense in the books. Now, we can criticize GRRM for some things, but throwing away everything from the previous novels and doing fan service for those who loved season 8? I don't think so. We already know Tyrion isn't gonna be reading her the Geneva convention in the books (he was whitewashed to the point of being stupid when he joined Dany in the show), we know Varys isn't gonna join her, so we won't have those two telling the emotionally fragile woman to "fight her darkest impulses".

We know Martin wrote a heroine's arc for Dany, and that he likes to subvert tropes. Everyone looked for a boy, but it's Daenerys who's Azor Ahai returned/TPTWP. It's not a sword that's Lightbringer, it's the dragons. Now, there's a fear that she will die saving the world, which would be very disappointing (I agree with those posts here and here), although not as awful as the show's ending.

Those who claim to love Daenerys because she's "such an interesting villain" are just antis Dany. Their Dark!Dany foreshadowing doesn't make any sense. Those are the same people who claim they're not against her fighting slavery, but she should do it peacefully, meaning they don't want her to actually fight slavery at all and are totally on the same page as D&D, even though they won't admit it and tell us it's all right to like her as a villain. They’re going on and on about how it’s more interesting and more subversive if Dany doesn’t end being a hero, but there’s literally nothing interesting or subversive about Dark!Dany. Her ending in the show fell into the oldest sexist tropes.

Who are those people who claim to love Dark!Dany, anyway? Take a look around tumblr: almost all of them are Sansa stans who also loved their fave ending up QITN. Like that makes sense when you've read the books. Dany isn't gonna become mad or a tyrant, Arya isn't gonna leave to travel the world (nonsense ending for Arya too, it was really for every main female character besides Sansa to be gone) or become a psychopath, Sansa isn't gonna become QITN. We're delusional? No lovely, they are. If you want reassurance, just play along next time you see someone who claims to love Dany and says it’s obvious she’ll go mad. Tell them that you could see this happening, that she would indeed be a better and more interesting antagonist than the others, that the only thing you wouldn’t like if this happened is that no main female character would end up without power corrupting them which would be sexist, and wait for their answer. It’s not gonna be “there’s Arya, don’t worry!”, because Dany and Arya stans actually get along in the fandom and most of us love both of them (Dany stan first, but Arya is my second favorite). No, it’s gonna be "there’s Sansa”.

#ASOIAF #Daenerys Targaryen #anti got #anti sansa stans #answered

[awhitehead17]

Whumptober 2022: Day 21 - Famous last words

Prompt: Coughing up blood

Summary: It’s not Jason’s fault that he’s sick, Tim knows that, however he can't help but be annoyed by the constant coughing and decides to go and say something about it.

Enjoy! :D

He’s feeling irrationally annoyed right now. Tim knows it’s not Jason’s fault but he still can’t help but be irritated by what’s going on. Jason’s constant coughing is driving him insane, it’s loud and it sounds awful. Every time Jason happens to have a coughing fit, which seems to be like every five minutes, Tim gets distracted and loses track of what he’s doing, he's re-read the same line about seven times by now.

Instead of being in one of his own apartments recovering, Alfred has Jason on lockdown here in the Manor until his chest infection clears up. The only reason Tim is at the Manor himself is because Alfred also has Tim on lockdown as he’s now at the tail end of his recovery period from a knee injury that occurred while he had been on patrol. Tim can’t flee the Manor meaning he can’t escape from Jason trying to hack his lungs up.

Just as he’s about to try and concentrate on his work again another bout of coughing from his brother occurs, it echoes through his room and it feels like it’s vibrating against the walls. Huffing, Tim slams his pen down on his desk and gets up from his chair in order to march his way to Jason’s bedroom across the hall.

Not hesitating when he gets there Tim wrenches the door open and stands in the threshold glaring into the room. Jason’s room is dark apart from where he currently has an old 90’s film playing on his TV. Turning his attention to the bed Tim spots Jason swaddled up in his bed covers and blankets, surrounded by empty water bottles and used tissues.

Tim pulls a face at the sight and then soon winces when Jason coughs again and Tim feels it shake his entire frame. It’s a full chesty, wet cough and sounds absolutely awful. When it passes Jason is left breathing heavily.

Crossing his arms over his chest Tim glares at him. “Could you die quietly please? I’m trying to work.”

“Fuck you.” Comes the instant retort. Tim pulls another face, Jason sounds even worse speaking than he did coughing.

“Not in your condition,” Tim quips, “you’d end up making me ill.”

Jason goes to say something again but his words end up turning into another coughing fit. It lasts for a good minute and once again Jason is left breathing heavily when it ends.

“Well that doesn’t sound good.”

Tim jumps at the sound of a new voice coming from behind him. He looks over his shoulder to find Dick standing behind him, peering into Jason’s room with a concerned look on his face.

“I’m fine,” is Jason’s strong argument.

Behind Tim, Dick snorts. “Sure you are.” There’s a pause between them before Dick nudges Tim out of the way so he could head into Jason’s room. Tim blinks and wonders what Dick is thinking, why would he voluntarily enter the infectious room like that. Then again, he's not the one with the compromised immune system, Dick will probably be fine, if Tim were to enter he guarantees within the next few days he’d be bedridden with flu like symptoms.

From the safety of the threshold, Tim watches as Dick starts cleaning up Jason’s mess. He collects the empty water bottles and puts them to the side before moving onto fussing over Jason himself, Dick rearranges his blankets so they’re more comfortably tucked around him and even puffs up his pillow much to Jason’s obvious dismay. Once their brother is more situated on his bed, Dick grabs the bin and begins collecting the discarded tissues.

Finding the situation no longer interesting, Tim turns to leave, he’ll just have to work out a way to block out Jason’s coughing. He had already tried using headphones but he supposes he could try them again, perhaps another option could be to simply move to another part of the Manor.

“Are you bleeding!”

Dick’s sudden exclamation stops Tim in his tracks, not even three steps away from the room, and he goes back to find Dick examining a used tissue closely.

With a roll of his eyes Jason replies in a raspy voice, “I’ve coughed up some blood yeah, nothing to be concerned about.”

Dick looks scandalized. “’Nothing to be concerned about.’ Jason this could be serious! You coughing up blood could mean all kinds of different things. This isn’t nothing! Does Alfred know about this?”

Jason shakes his head clearly not happy to be on the end of Dick’s mother-henning. The eldest has his hands on his hips and is glaring down at him.

“No. And he doesn’t need to.” Jason says sending Dick his own glare, although any heat behind it is lost due to how exhausted he looks. “It can happen with chest infections and when you have as bad of a cough as I do. It’s only minor bleeding. It’s fine.” As he finishes talking, another coughing fit hits him and the actions just make Dick look even more concerned than before.

Once he's done Dick is quick to hand him a bottle of water which is half full and Jason takes it without protest. As he sips the liquid Dick crosses his arms across his chest and widens his stance.

“Despite what you say, I’m going to get Alfred because I think this needs to be looked at. It’s better to be safe than sorry and Alfred deserves to know what’s going on.”

Before Jason could protest Dick is leaving the room, as he passes by Tim who moved to the side to let him through the door, he shoves the bin into his hands and storms down the corridor in the pursuit of Alfred.

Blinking at the object he's now suddenly holding Tim’s mind takes a minute to catch up with what is going on. Shaking his head Tim moves to place the bin down just inside of the door of Jason’s room. When he straightens back up he spots Jason watching him with a raised eyebrow.

“Got anything to add?”

His brother sounds tired and grumpy, like he’s just done with everything. Tim honestly feels almost sorry for him being on the receiving end of Dick’s care, it’s not that the oldest if awful at looking after them but sometimes he can be a bit much. Tim wouldn’t change that about him however.

Putting his hands up in surrender Tim shakes his head. “Nope. Nothing from me. I’m just gonna… go and not be here anymore…”

Nodding once Tim turns around and leaves Jason’s room. His brother can continue being sick while Tim is in the safety of his own room. Dick and Alfred can handle Jason, Tim will be standing by at a distance until he’s better.

#Whumptober 2022 #day twenty-one #coughing up blood #Tim Drake #Jason Todd #dick grayson #sibling relationship #annoying siblings #sick jason #chest infections #bat bros #mother-hen dick #big brother dick grayson #Tim doesn't help things #bit of humour #fanfiction

[seancamerons]

i know the general public consensus of crossroads (2002)and i'm here to gush about underrated lucy and ben's romance in the film and gush about it. (under the cut!)

i generally love this trope, and this little tiny moment between lucy and ben while they're lying down facing each other, mimi and kit are fast asleep (or pretending to be) while sharing the 2 beds between the four of them. i think kit's beside lucy, mimi beside ben, and lucy and ben are facing each other in the separate beds, even more, separated strategically by the nightstand between them.

of course, this vibe was completed with the dim lights, the seedy motel, it was late at night as far as setting the stage. they're having a sweet, little honest, little cute, short, bedtime conversation, of dreams and regrets, not revealing much about themselves and it's semi-romantic and genuine, the subtext there and a little obvious and yet organic, honest, innocent, and true kind of like tender and romantic. very intentional, underrated, and sweet to me. it's planting the seeds. like a picture worth a thousand words, very real, and yet they hold back just enough but bare some honesty. they came initially from different places in their lives, and reached this crossroads (on the nose) and lucy wants to carve out a life of her own and to travel and when that opportunity initially presented itself she poo pooed and and downtalked it and thought mimi was crazy but the more she thought about it i suppose she decided this was the golden opportunity to find out what she really wants. it didn't seem like the virgin, nerd, smart valedictorian who was extremely shielded and overprotected (here it is again!) would hack into medical school because she hadn't had much of a choice. her dad worked hard, a good man, you know it's true he loved lucy and never truly got over her mom and her leaving and holds that grudge and it hurts lucy because she's still despite knowing what she knows and her mother shrouded in mystery. it wasn't until later discovery, she realized and appreciated her dad so much more. who was there to pick up those pieces? her friends of course, and ben despite the romantic subtext he listened, consoled her and even wanted to make her smile again and was inspired by her writing and decided to surprise her with a song arrangement to her poem (which is track four on a certain 2001 album lol! iykyk.) isolating that moment and incident though, and just being like 'wow, like he likes her and admires her so much and was completely genuine' and finally then, it was safe to approach things to the next level. everything is revealed by this time. they finally share a long-awaited kiss, and it's right. ben hadn't the intent to just get that kiss though, though pursuit but with pure intentions and such was just a lovely little addition to strengthen them. it was worthy, swoon-worthy.

for lucy, didn't have a traditional high school life experience. she usually does the 'right' thing by her dad. she had the hospital internship her heart wasn't in. music was her passion as she was solely and strictly a bedroom, and shower singer, she had never taken the stage publically, hiding behind books, and dreaming in secret with limited girlfriends and her best friend is her lab partner, but lucy had everything predetermined for her. she's a dad's girl, her mom we know was gone, alive but gone. lucy and ben were reppin' different worlds but somehow had some commonality.

the initial moment short, had this spark of the right place right time, fate, or divine intervention? definitely, a lovely conversation and even a consolation prize you know, if things on the road go to shit, at least they had what they had.

of course, it's before the 'he's a killer', the rumors about him from back home, or lucy and her reputation, he's still enamored by her but respectful of her, she doesn't want to pry and isn't aware of that until the morning after.

initial sneaking glances preceded them through the first day of the trip. the revelation of the jailtime/killer thing temporarily derailed them with that plot but the subtext was still lingering and hanging there unrequited, as he tried and sometimes failed with his piqued interest in her, and struggled with figuring out what made lucy close up on him after that moment of honesty in the seedy motel in the bed, or was even unaware for a time about the rumors in their small georgia town that seemed to catch up with him and cause animosity and silence on the drive to their destinations. getting back to the moment, it's not necessarily about WHAT they say or how they say it but it's evident it's significant.

Ben says, "Mimi said that she didn't think you'd come with us on the trip."

Lucy confesses in reply, "Neither did I."

"You sorry you did?"

Lastly, Lucy answers with, "Not so far."

And then they say their goodnights, after a pause and a short held gaze and a small smile.

It may seem like nothing, but that was pretty plain and romantic yet subtle, and that was their first real one-on-one conversation, aside from you know, when they packed the car up and left georgia. we knew he was piqued when he asked mimi about lucy at the dirty gas station with no soap in the bathroom, and mimi dismissed it and basically told him essentially, he was out of his mind, and lucy out of his league and not to say anything about it.

i have a lot to say, but this movie is so underrated and underappreciated and though antiquated i love it. i don't care if it friendly reminder has under a 20% of rotten tomatoes, won razzies, and is generally snubbed, downed, and pooped on. it's a cute, 'chick flick' with a side of romance, and friendship, coming of age at it's core and that's just one aspect of it. crossroads is a favorite of mine. be nice if you don't have nice things to say. that's all.

#crossroads 2002 #crossroads #lucy wagner #ben kimball #lucy x ben #film #2000s #romantic #coming of age #movie #chick flick #britney spears #cute #tropes

[mittensmorgul]

I know this is a weird question, but with his waning powers, how do you think Cas got out of hell?

Hellevator?

I have a companion question for you. When Cas shoved Belphegor through the rift, of everywhere they could’ve potentially landed in Hell (we know it’s a huge place that holds billions of souls and demons, and we’ve seen a number of different regions of it over the years), how did they land right exactly where they needed to be?

They landed just a few steps away from the vault containing the horn they were looking for. At this point, I’d like to introduce you to some of my other anons who’ve been sitting in my inbox waiting for replies for a while...

[Contents of anon message: hold on how did cas get out of that pit. did he wall up the side like a mountain climber. did he bring bungee cords and slingshot himself out??? im confused]

and these two that I think go together (apologies if I’m mistaken, but they seem a continuation of one another, and I wanna address both of them here anyway):

[contents of two anon messages: Hi Mittens! Quick question. If the Lilith’s horn thing was capable of sucking up souls and demons, why didn’t Cas use it in season 6 for his whole god plan? Crowley had to know about it, right? (He was Lilith’s lover, wasn’t he? If Bel knew about, Crowley had to too) Idk... Retcon makes me dizzy. what was the point of looking for Purgatory if there was a simpler solution that Crowley could have very easily accessed?

For that matter, why didn’t Lucifer use the horn to suck up all the souls to defeat Amara? Would that have been a possibility?]

This... is gonna get long here... There’s actually two ways to approach all these questions, which I think all have the exact same very simple answer. But first, I need to lay out why these questions are all so interesting in the first place, and demonstrate that attempting to give separate answers to each of them using canon to justify all the answers is an exercise in futility.

Let’s begin with the first two questions, which are functionally identical. How did Cas get out of Hell so quickly? And the companion question I posed above... How did he and Belphegor get IN to Hell so quickly, or at least to their specific destination. Because that was... indescribably convenient, yes?

They could’ve fallen ANYWHERE in Hell. Why would the bottom of a magical hole into Hell drop them in the exact destination they were searching for? Do portals to Hell have something to do with intent? I mean, we use the symbolic visual of “falling into a hole” for going to Hell (like Sam diving into the Cage in 5.22), but Hell is no more “underground” than Heaven is “in the sky,” you know? They’re not physical places in the human world, any more than the Alternate Universes we’ve visited over the years are. Without going into a physics lecture, I’ve been thinking of the wound in the ground in the graveyard as metaphysically the same as the Sandbox Portal to Heaven, or the glowy space vagina portal into an alternate universe. Walk up to it, walk through it, and ZAP you’re on the other side, in another dimension of reality.

They don’t step into the Heaven Sandbox and physically ride up into the sky like an elevator, you know? They step, it glows, it spits them out in Heaven, no climbing required. I think the Hell Portal/Big-ass Hole is the same sort of thing. But with the added drama of getting to watch them fall into a big-ass hole. So... we didn’t get to see it, but reversing the process, I think it would’ve just... booped Cas back out and deposited him on the grass where he’d jumped through in the first place.

More interesting to me is the fact that Belphegor presented them with this solution (bearing in mind he’d been gradually manipulating them all along into agreeing to Bigger and Bigger Spells, and each time TFW being desperate enough to agree to give his spells a try, and each time they proved moderately successful. But this was The Big One, you know? This was the one he wasn’t performing to continue earning the trust and assistance of TFW, this was the one he engineered SPECIFICALLY to enact all along-- earning Dean’s trust, getting Cas to the point where he not only could look at him, but actively work with him (even grudgingly). He NEEDED Cas in that room to unlock the box with the horn, much like Cas needed Dean to unlock the box that contained the Angel Tablet in 8.17. Much like Lucifer needed Crowley to “escape” so he could follow him to the storage locker where he’d hidden the Staff of Aaron in 11.15. Much like Zachariah plotted out everything that happened in s4 to get Sam where he was needed to release Lucifer in 4.22 (and manipulated into it so that he’d be willing to do the series of Terrible Things required of him by “prophecy.”)

Which is all a little suspicious when you start looking at past canon to explain it all, you know? All this “prophecy” and “destiny” stuff starts to look a bit contrived, right?

Belphegor and Cas somehow miraculously landed in the Dramatic Entrance Hall to the exact room they needed to find. Where a demon Bel was friends with happened to be looting the place (discovering a ring that received a weird amount of focus for something we’ve never heard of before nor the powers it holds described in any way, and yet ALSO featured in the SPPT promo video, despite being entirely irrelevant to their current situation... which is weird in itself... and something that could come up again later... or not, but it could). 

So, did Belphegor’s intent lead them to fall directly to that spot, or is something else at play here?

That brings us to the next question: Lilith’s Crook, which wasn’t a crook at all, but a Horn. First off, why was it called a “crook” when it was plainly a “horn?” A Crook is a specific tool used to catch wayward sheep around the neck like a lasso, but also can be used as a walking stick or a weapon. Wolves come after your flock, you can whallop them with your big stick.

But like all the “horns” introduced in canon, this one has... other powers. We had the Horn of Gabriel introduced as a concept in 6.06 but demonstrated in “reality” only in s9... which wasn’t a horn at all, but a spell. But it did summon angels the same way Lilith’s Crook sucked in demons and souls. Even the shape of the sigil in the spell had a “crook.” 

Bringing in the flock, as it were.

We also saw the Horn of Joshua, where the original purpose of the “weapon” was rendered irrelevant by being of interest to TFW as a “Hand of God” potentially imbued with God’s powers they hoped to use to defeat Amara back in s11. All this previous “horn fuckery” in canon has left me inherently suspicious of ANY sort of horn now. But I’ll get to that in a minute... Let’s focus on the rest of the horn-related questions first, since this one is so big that I think the only way to truly justify it is with my final answer...

The next question is, “why didn’t Cas use THIS horn back in s6?” combined with “didn’t Crowley know about this horn back then too? Why did he never mention it when he was searching for power?”

Well... even if Crowley DID know about this horn, it wouldn’t have actually done what he was trying to do back then. Crowley already HAD the throne of Hell, you know? All of that power was already his. He LOANED Cas 50,000 souls to smack down Raphael, which Cas presumably returned to Hell after that. But Crowley had been looking for ADDITIONAL power for himself. The horn... only brought in the souls of Hell-- which were already in Crowley’s possession. Hoovering up all the souls that already made up his current power base would’ve been... power cannibalism, you know? It wouldn’t have given him anything he didn’t already have. He was looking for MORE power. The horn would’ve been worse than useless to him. And he DEFINITELY wouldn’t have given it to Cas back then, because Cas would’ve used it to soak up all the power Crowley DID have and steal it for his own, you know?

So, what would the purpose of the horn have been to Lilith? I’ve been considering the possibility that it was actually an Apocalypse Failsafe, if Sam had failed to kill her to release Lucifer. I mean, as a last-ditch effort to bring about the Apocalypse, she could’ve called all the power of every soul and demon in Hell to her and theoretically have the power to smash open the cage, or otherwise bring Apocalypse-Level Drama of some sort. Evil Vengeful God Powered Demon does seem to make for a formidable foe for Michael to defeat.

Or... maybe something along those lines? But that brings us to the next question: Why wouldn’t Lucifer have used it himself to suck up all the souls to defeat Amara in s11? Or even further, why wouldn’t Lucifer have used it to suck up some souls to defeat AU Michael when we literally saw him eating other Angels for power in s13? He’d been desperate for additional power in both of those circumstances. He even spent time in s11 specifically looking for Hands of God weapons and other power enhancing weapons, and the contents of his crypts was brought to him at one point in 11.15. He was disappointed that whatever he’d been looking for was not among the meager selection of weapons from his apparently looted crypts. But if anyone HAD known of this apparently incredibly powerful weapon, why would nobody have even mentioned its existence before?

Which makes me wonder if Lucifer DID know of its existence, you know? Maintaining the belief that the horn had existed all along, locked away in a box that only angels (or someone able to read and sing Enochian) could even access, Lucifer at least could’ve had reason enough to use it if he thought it would help him replenish his own power either in s11 or in s13. Yet he never even mentioned it. Could it have been something Lilith made for herself after Lucifer had been locked away? Weird, right? WHY?!

Why ANY of this? Why even make something like this, only to have it mentioned NOW, at the very end of the line?

Because every answer I’ve attempted to give here eventually breaks down and fails to satisfy the original question, only leaving us with more questions. So I’d like to present my thesis. While the canon-related questions are a bit of personal fun for me, because I love attempting to reconcile canon like this, I think the show has already told us exactly what’s happening here. I think it’s both DEEPLY rooted in past canon, but also hanging a lampshade on a lot of specific events of past canon.

I think Chuck is basically pantsing his way through writing yet another Dramatic Cosmic Plot that TFW doesn’t even realize they’re still part of yet. And that this “weapon” was invented on the spot by Chuck to force TFW into enacting a hastily scrawled rewrite of some of his favorite scenes from his own Grand Story.  Just enough to give him time to figure out what he actually wants to DO with the story, since he’s effectively trapped himself in this iteration of it by one of his own hastily created plot devices... kinda “backfiring” on him-- The Equalizer gun.

Chuck has been repeatedly characterized as kind of a hack writer, not a Great Storyteller, you know? He’s really... not very good at this. He’s like Anne Rice after she fired her editor. He’s got no direction, no original ideas, only “cool plot twists” that entertain nobody but himself. He makes up rules on the fly to try to solve narrative problems of his own making. And he’s been doing that for years.

And he’s been getting worse at it, and more desperate about it, since Amara showed up to confront him from a perspective that began this entire “unmasking the creator for what he really is” process we’ve been seeing unfold since 11.20.

Which is closer to what I think the *actual* mytharc plot of s15 is.

Right now, TFW is caught up on the details-- these magical things they believe are manifestations of a Post-Chuck-Involvement universe. When in reality, it’s STILL Chuck interfering directly in all of their lives. I think right now Dean is the only one even remotely on the right track with that one, even if he’s emotionally reeling to the point where he doesn’t actually *know* he’s realized the extent to which Chuck has fucked with all their lives.

Sam is reeling from the things he had to do because of “prophecy,” the fact he believed he had no other choice. This was one level of remove from his resignation about needing to say yes to Lucifer in 5.22 to personally drag him into the Cage. Emotionally, I’m not sure if he sees it any differently than all the suffering his actions back then brought about. This time, it wasn’t *him* making that sacrifice, but someone he truly cared about making it for him. Sam is having to deal with this from the other side this time around. He’s not seeing the bigger picture, that Chuck was responsible for ALL of this. He’s convinced that this was the price they needed to pay in order to “fix the universe once and for all,” which... we know as viewers isn’t true at all. Chuck is still out there, and magically hooked directly into Sam via that equalizer wound. Is Sam even CAPABLE of seeing outside of his current apparent situation, or is Chuck somehow directly influencing his choices and thoughts? That remains to be seen, but it is a primary concern-- how is that wound affecting both Sam and Chuck, and what part did it have to play in Rowena’s apparent sacrifice?

(and potentially, will Sam be able to eventually wrest control of what that connection is doing once he becomes fully aware of what the consequences of that wound really are? I mean this also goes directly back to the sorts of visions he was manipulated into believing in s11, only to learn when it was too late that they were all a manipulation from Lucifer. This feels thematically similar, but potentially giving Sam power over the situation that he hasn’t realized yet...)

Cas is stuck on his own guilt, he believes now validated by Dean’s rejection of him. He’s not seeing Dean’s perspective here, that it’s not just Jack’s death or even Mary’s death that Dean is angry about. Cas had invested HIS ENTIRE SENSE OF SELF and his entire sense of family and belonging into Jack directly. Jack had been the symbol of Cas’s lifeline to the people he loves and chose to stand with and the symbol of what someday losing those people to mortality would leave Cas with... another immortal being to endure by his side for eternity. The immediacy of Cas’s anger is all tied up in that singular act of Chuck’s, in killing Jack. And seemingly not understanding that Dean is angry about... all of it. About an entire lifetime of direct manipulation and loss and tragedy.

Dean’s big fear, in pushing Cas away, was that Cas himself had been just another one of Chuck’s plot devices written specifically to force his choices or disrupt his life. Dean can’t see the forest for the trees, and he has NO IDEA (or had no idea until Cas chose to walk out of his life) that Cas has repeatedly chosen HIM, DIRECTLY, for A DECADE. Dean has no idea, because right now he’s so blinded by his own hurt, his own disillusionment, and his own anger to see Cas clearly. He trusts nothing and no one, because everyone and everything might just be one more plot device.

He’s having a hard time seeing Cas as anything other than on a par with the Equalizer gun-- hastily invented on the spot to solve a problem of Chuck’s own devising. And I think it’s gonna take a while for Dean’s mental state to settle out enough to be able to accept the truth that *we* know.

I mean, Cas has defied every supposed law of the universe, coming back to him over and over again, inexplicably, from death and the Empty and situations that never should’ve been possible to come back from. I believe he’s questioning if any of that was even real now, you know? but we’ve now got the long haul of emotional coming-to-terms, and narrative progress into Chuck’s story but also Chuck’s storytelling. I think we’re finally gonna come to understand not only his writing process, but also expose all his storytelling weaknesses and failed drafts and eternal rewrites. And his intended ending that TFW will now have to plot their own way out of.

And to me, in s15, that’s the story I’m actually interested in dissecting, because that’s the real story of Faith vs Free Will, and I think that’s what must become the final showdown of the season.

And all of these narrative WTF moments, like these questions have raised above, will go to serve as Red Herrings or Chekhov’s Guns, or both. Because Chuck’s panic writing without an editor, and his head’s so far up his own ass and is more interested in narrative vengeance on his rebellious characters that he’s losing touch with what the reality of the universe he’s created actually *is.* Or what his theoretical audience would actually want for these characters as an emotionally satisfying ending after 15 years of them becoming “real” in his story.

I think this will be the main point of 15.04 (and possibly 15.05, based on the very little I actually know about that episode yet). So as painful as it is for us right now, try not to lose sight of this larger picture. And don’t let yourself become too obsessed with Chuck’s increasingly improbable plot devices, because they’re a narrative distraction (for TFW and us-the-audience alike, like an incompetent stage magician pointing over the audience’s head and yelling OMG IS THAT BIGFOOT?! and hoping the audience will all turn around long enough to shove a rabbit in his hat...)

#spn 15.03 #spn s15 spoilers #spn s15 speculation #spn cosmology #supernatural weapons #heaven hell purgatory and the empty #chuck is a hack #and it's supposed to be obvious that he's a hack... :'D #Anonymous

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

weird, m | ksj

pairing(s): seokjin x reader

summary: Your roommate and best friend, Kim Seokjin, forgot to double-check the autofill information and shipped his package from the online sex shop with your name on it. Naturally, this ends with you tying him up and sucking his dick, and him tying you up with you riding him like a wild animal. Wait, what?

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; friends with benefits; crack (sorry, I can't be serious for more than two seconds when writing Seokjin); yes, reader usually fucks younger dudes XD; smut (fem reader, D/s dynamics (both switches), bondage, m-receiving oral, thigh riding, cowgirl, spanking); non-idol!BTS - just two best friends fucking for sexual exploration, don't mind them

technically a prequel to love roulette, m | myg yes, this is the explanation to that mysterious package, but is it really an explanation or rather an excuse to fuck WWH, you decide

--

“Seokjin, can I ask you something?”

“Hm?”

When Kim Seokjin looked at you, it was a bit like looking into the eyes someone much younger than you even though he wasn’t. He had that youth about him, the ‘here’s-to-never-growing-up’ sparkle in his large brown eyes, complete with parted lips in a small ‘o’ and, alright, yes, his Nintendo Switch in his hands.

“A long time ago, I asked you which way you think you lean, more dominant or more submissive, no?”

His handsome face flushed pink, slowly scooting away from you.

“Er… yeah, I remember…”

“What?”

“Huh?”

You poked him and he squeaked, slapping a hand over his side even though he was wearing a brown sweatshirt. Seokjin was always cold, even during the summer.

Your best friend was an odd character.

You chuckled. “Why are you being so awkward? I thought we were over this phase.”

Well, he should be. You had known Seokjin since elementary school and seen him, er, date was a strong word for what you both were doing in middle and high school, more like being bumbling messes and walking in on each other bonking classmates, but, hey, what mattered is that you both got better at it over the years.

It being sex.

Not romance.

You both still had only sketchy ideas about what romance was supposed to be.

“We are,” your best friend coughed, clearing his throat for absolutely no reason. “We are, I just…”

“Used my name for purchasing goods from an online sex shop?”

He choked and nearly flung his Switch. You caught it, swiftly placing it on the coffee table as you procured the cardboard box from behind your back, already open, address and name circled in thick black permanent marker on the rather inconspicuous package.

“W-What, that’s absurd, why would I ever–?”

You hummed pleasantly, sweeping the box away from his lanky limbs and his flailing hands. For someone who didn’t purchase goods from an online sex shop, he sure was interested in getting the box. He tumbled into your lap, and quickly scrambled back, black hair suddenly fluffed and wild from the movement.

“Something tells me you didn’t check the autocomplete form before clicking submit.”

You saw Seokjin choke on air.

He jerked away from you and fumbled with his phone beside him. You peeked over his broad shoulder and saw that he was scrolling through his emails like a madman, except Seokjin had a bad habit of never deleting any. He had maybe fifteen thousand unread emails to sort though.

“You don’t have to check. I am sure I didn’t order red cotton bondage rope and a leather flogger.”

Seokjin whipped his head around, face redder than a tomato, looking halfway between fainting and screaming.

You raised an eyebrow. “Is it for you or a mysterious imaginary girl that you’re dating?”

Now your best friend seemed to be contemplating holding his own breath until he passed out to avoid your questioning.

“I-It’s not for me!”

“Oooh, then who? You’re not an internet hookup kind of guy though… unless she was dumb enough to put her full name as her username, then she’s too airheaded to be a catfish–”

Seokjin flapped his hands, smacking you in your pajama-covered chest, sputtering. “No one! There’s no one! I just…!”

You caught one of his wrists, raising an eyebrow.

“Just?”

He froze.

Silence.

“… Seokjin?”

You left go of his hand. It stayed there, frozen in the air.

Ah, it seemed as if his soul left his body.

Rest in peace Kim Seokjin. You were the handsomest best friend one could ask for.

You prodded him in the side again and Seokjin doubled over, trying to cover his face with the large sleeves of his sweatshirt, long legs in black sweatpants curling up as if he could cocoon himself away from the conversation.

“Seokjin, you can be interested in whatever you want,” you snickered, placing the package next to his fetal positioned body. “I simply thought it was funny that you accidentally used my name. Although I wouldn’t use that flogger on a real person, only for posing in pictures. In any case, have fun being freaky by yourself and not for some mysterious woman you refuse to tell me about.”

You stood up, about to leave and give your best friend some space. You shouldn’t go too far teasing him after all.

“What do you mean?”

You stopped, looking back. Seokjin’s large brown eyes were peeking out of his splayed fingers, shifting awkwardly when you made eye contact. He cleared his throat. He was doing that a lot for someone who seemed perfectly healthy ten minutes ago, shrieking at himself for missing the ledge in his game and dying.

It had seemed like a good time to interrupt and embarrass him so you could save your eardrums.

He coughed and pointed to the box. “About the… um… whip… thingmabob…”

You cocked an eyebrow. “Isn’t it obvious?”

You marched over and opened the box, making Seokjin jolt and cover his red ears instinctively, but you ignored him, pulling out the black pleather flogger you had already unwrapped from the plastic – purely from thinking it was your own package, by the way, no other reason, surely not because you were mildly curious about what your best friend was into, nope – and you slapped the short three tails into your hand, wincing.

“This kind of cheap material is too plastic-like. If you use this on bare skin and hit too hard, you’re going to cut someone and I know you’re squeamish around blood, unless you secretly have a blood fetish too and have been a really good actor all this time–”

“How do you know that?”

You blinked at his question.

“What?”

Seokjin sat up, giving you a confused pout. “Why do you know something like that?”

Now it was your turn to shift your eyes around.

“Uh…”

Er… how to tell your best friend that the younger guy you were casually fucking for the past couple of weeks was, ah, rather knowledgeable about certain things, was, um, interested in teaching, uh, yeah, teaching…

Seokjin squinted at you suspiciously. “Is it that idol trainee that was here two nights ago when I was out drinking with Hose–”

You waved your hands very quickly, tossing the flog aside carelessly and slapping your thigh to silence Seokjin and his far too invasive questions. “Look. I just don’t want you to hurt anybody on accident, okay? Your rope choice was good though. You should always use an organic material for shibari, cotton, hemp, linen if you’re rich, but you’re a cheapskate, so–”

Your best friend narrowed his eyes into slits. “How much younger is that guy compared to you again? Hm? And what was his name? Ye–”

You slapped a hand over Seokjin’s mouth, smiling sweetly and dangerously, reaching into the box and pulling out the red cotton rope.

“I know a lot of knots now and I can tie a noose just for you, Seokjinnie.”

Your best friend, rightfully so, looked terrified.

“Now. Let’s talk about you, okay? Okay.”

You removed your hand and held onto the rope.

Seokjin gulped, but then shook his head vigorously, frowning. “What did you call it?” He was already moving past your death threat. Smart man.

“Call what?”

“Shi-something?”

“Shibari? Japanese rope tying?” You lifted the cotton cord in your hand. “Is that not what this is for?”

Seokjin blinked very rapidly.

You blinked back at him. Then it dawned onto you. “The diamond-y rope patterns where they’re all tied up and stuff.”

“Ah! Yeah! That!”

“You want that done to you?”

Seokjin jerked to one side. “What? No! To someone else. Maybe. No. What?”

You slowly placed the rope on his lap and scooted away.

“Uh… huh. Okay. Enjoy.”

“Wait,” he blurted.

“What?”

“CanIpracticeonyou?”

“Can you WHAT?” you echoed shrilly.

“Right, yeah, okay, never mind–”

-

“Seokjin.”

Your best friend choked on his own toothbrush and threw himself into the bathroom wall, colliding into the towel bar and howling in pain while simultaneously hacking up a lung.

“I’ve decided I am going to teach you some simple knots to prevent me from having to pick your naked ass up from the police station or hospital,” you said calmly as Seokjin half-died on the floor tangled in your mint green and his navy-blue bath towels. “And because I don’t want to have to cut some poor girl off your bedframe because you’ve blacked out running onto your door trying to find me.”

“I’ve never–” he wheezed.

“But you will if I don’t take precautions,” you cut in, grabbing your purple toothbrush and putting toothpaste on it as Seokjin attempted to collect himself off the ground. “Like that one time you ran into the window when that wasp was in the apartment.”

“That was a fucking wasp, you freaked out too!”

You started brushing your teeth. “Yeah, but I didn’t knock myself out and wake up with a fat bump on my forehead. That was you,” you gargled.

“Ack…”

“Anyway, I know a few things and I figured I would do a good deed and enlighten you.”

“Who taught you? Was it Ye–”

You jabbed Seokjin forcefully in the ribs and he immediately shut up because he choked on his toothbrush again.

-

“Why do you have scissors?”

“For cutting the rope.”

“Yeah, but why are they so big?”

“That’s what she said.”

Seokjin narrowed his eyes. “I hate you.”

“Cool, now I’m gonna tie you up. Give me your hands.”

You unwound the end from the bolt and frowned, nudging his knee with yours. You were both sitting on his bed, him cross legged and you on your knees because he was wearing black sweatpants and you were wearing no pants, just your usual large lavender pajama shirt with a pattern of yellow stars.

“Take off your sweatshirt. It’ll get in the way.”

“But I’m cold.”

“You won’t be because apparently this shit turns you on,” you snickered.

“Shut up, it does not. It’s the other way around,” Seokjin grumbled, yanking his chocolate brown sweatshirt over his head.

You paused.

“I thought you were more sub.”

Seokjin froze, head half-out of his sweatshirt. You waited. He didn’t move. You waited some more. He coughed and chucked the article of clothing aside, yanking his white t-shirt down and smoothing his hair, not looking at you.

You waited.

He smoothed his hair for a full two minutes.

“Um, anyway–”

You planted a hand on his knee and Seokjin tried to chop your hand away, only for you to snatch his wrist, so his other hand came up to stop you, but you wound the end of the rope around his wrist and bounced off his mattress, pinning your knees on top of his knees and making him squeak as he tumbled back into his pillows, bringing you with him. You had to jerk your head out of the way to avoid collision.

“My nuts!”

“I didn’t hit your precious nuts, you numbsku–”

Hang on.

You locked eyes with Seokjin under you, who gawked back at you, absolutely terrified.

“… You are still a sub.”

Seokjin winced. “Ugh, it’s just… I’m getting older, alright? I can change my mind…”

You could get off him. You could let it be. You totally could.

But were you going to?

No.

You straddled his abdomen and brought his hands to his chest with a big grin. Seokjin’s eyes turned into giant brown saucers. He looked ready to pass out and not from your weight because you weren’t putting much weight on him.

“W-W-What are y-you d-doing?!” he shrieked.

You rapped him in the forehead. “Teaching. Pay attention. Hands up.”

“You aren’t taking your rings off?”

He was referring to the three silver rings you wore on a daily basis – an onyx stone on your left middle finger, a goat-head shaped ring on your right thumb, and a skull with a jester hat on your right ring finger.

You raised an eyebrow. “Why do I need to take them off?”

He lifted his hands and gave you an exaggerated shrug in between your thighs. Come to think of it, Seokjin had a rather broad chest so you had to spread your legs pretty wide to accommodate and hover over him.

Precarious.

“Ah, perfect.”

Your best friend yelped as you wrapped the rope around his wrists, leaving the end sticking out between them, first focusing on loosely binding. He tried to break away, but you harshly squeezed his sides with your thighs, narrowing your eyes.

“Stop squirming.”

He froze at your cold tone, shifting his eyes awkwardly.

“Watch. Now.”

His eyes immediately snapped to your hands.

“Wrists together.” You nudged them so the inner parts of the wrists were touching. “A little space in the center,” you added, looping out the end of the rope. “I’m just teaching you how I learned it, there are a few ways, but the details are important so you don’t prevent loss of circulation,” you added seriously, waiting for him to nod before continuing. “So, wind it around a couple times, but don’t overlap. Four or five?”

“But I can still get out.”

You glared at him. Seokjin shut up and jammed his plush pink lips together, shaking his head rapidly as if to say, who me? I wasn’t talking!

“Turn it ninety degrees like this,” you demonstrated. “And start going perpendicular to and in between the wrists to create the binding. Line up each coil side by side. Mind the starting end here. Then…” You reached for the scissors and snipped the excess away, dropping the rope and scissors beside you on the bed. “You tie it off on the outside. I use a square knot, so this end over this end, and then retie it the opposite way. Try to break free.”

Seokjin frowned at the red rope around his wrists, twisting it this way and that, squirming underneath your legs. You put your hands on your waist triumphantly, nodding to yourself in pride. You did a good job! It looked neat and it was inescapable without tightening on any blood vessels to cause any dangerous loss of circulation.

Hang on.

Seokjin froze.

You froze.

You both looked down.

You smacked him in the cheek.

“Ow!”

“What are you looking there for?!”

“Why did you hit me? Why do you always resort to violence?!” Seokjin accused, jabbing you underneath your breasts with his bound hands. “What is going on down there?”

“Nothing! Stop moving!”

“No!”

“You–”

You closed your thighs around Seokjin’s waist and sat down on him, causing him to gasp, wind knocked out of him as his diaphragm was pushed up into his lungs, struggling with the rope between his wrists and resorting to slamming them down on the bed above his head. You growled as you towered over him. He started yelling, as he always did.

“Yah!”

You slapped your free hand over his mouth.

“Silence.”

He glared at you behind your palm, breathing hard. You sat on top of him, breathing just as hard. He was bigger, strong, yes, but not in the position of power and – being honest, after all – your best friend was never really out to fight you and win. He was more of a ‘I’m-going-to-be-stupidly-annoying-until-you-do-what-I-want’ type, which made him rather childish in some ways. You were more of the ‘I’m-gonna-beat-your-ass’ type.

In conclusion, it was a healthy friendship.

Seokjin started licking your palm and making crazy eyes at you.

Your eye twitched.

“Stop it.”

Unsurprisingly, he did not, in fact, stop it.

“I said, stop it.”

And you slid down, past the wet spot now on his t-shirt, planting your soaked panties on top of his crotch, grinding down, and, yup, Seokjin bucked and yelped, immediately stopping and seizing up as if he could hide the massive erection that you had been willing to ignore but he was being a little – nah, actually, an extra-large, supersized – shit and it was getting on your last nerve, so what better way to resolve a wordless argument (on his part, heh) then humping his hard-on?

You removed your hand and Seokjin had a brief moment to gasp your name before you slid the pads of your fingers onto his tongue, rubbing it roughly and making his eyes nearly bulge out of his head.

“I told you to stop, but you aren’t listening,” you snarled.

Seokjin whimpered, brown orbs glassy, pupils blown out.

You stilled.

Hold on a second.

You had a brief epiphany where you realized you were grinding on your best friend’s dick with him tied up and you were wetter than the Yellow Sea. This wasn’t some guy you picked up at the night market that won you that sleeping Pikachu at the claw machines, only to chat him up and end up with bed with a guy who was – ack, never mind his age – anyway, this was your best friend.

Kim Seokjin.

Oh shit, I’ve gone too far.

You let go, backing up. “S… Sorry, I–”

But then Seokjin’s plush lips closed around your fingers, sucking hard and you choked slightly, feeling his hips roll and the tip of his clothed erection hit your covered clit. He was glaring at you. You gasped as his teeth gently but firmly caught your two fingers. It did hurt, but only a little. Mostly it sent a rush of rather uncomfortable and mind-boggling arousal racing from your knuckles to your core, drenching your panties further.

“Don’t stop,” he mumbled around your fingers.

Don’t stop?

DON’T STOP?

His teeth let go, panting, staring into your eyes.

“Don’t make this weird,” Seokjin muttered, shifting his gaze. “Don’t make this weird, okay?”

His brown eyes flickered back to you. His bound hands were still over his head, black hair flaring out of his pillows, white t-shirt messed up, still trapped between your thighs. You paused, fingers slipping out of his lips, the pads trailing on his lower lip, turning it glossy with his saliva.

Your heart was racing fast.

He furrowed his dark brows and, for the first time, his serious expression made you think that perhaps, maybe, there was a side of him down there, the other side to the coin.

“I just…” Seokjin exhaled slowly, not looking away from you. “I trust you to do this. You’re capable and knowledgeable. I know you are. Word gets around with your, er, habits with younger guys…”

You felt your cheeks heat and you scratched your head awkwardly.

“Anyway, it’s fine if you wanna… er… get off. With me. Because I’m so handsome and all.”

You were thiiiiiiis close to leaving out of sheer embarrassment that instantly dissipated at Seokjin’s sudden unexpected self-compliment. Instead, your eye twitched and you squinted in annoyance.

Seokjin coughed, ears singeing bright red. “Unless you can’t, of course. Because it’s easy to fall in love with me, and that would be very bad considering I don’t want to marry you–”

“I don’t want to marry you either,” you snapped. “You’re ugly.”

Seokjin gasped dramatically, highly offended. “How dare you–!”

He abruptly sat up and you twisted back, only for his arms to swing over your head and sandwich you between his tied wrists and his chest, ramming you back onto his lap and his hard dick. You hissed and bit down your moan, not willing to admit it was mildly turning you on, because of course neither you or Seokjin hated each other – only in that classic way best friends hate and love each other at the same time – and, yeah, sure, you could admit Seokjin was handsome and cute and fun to be around, but he wasn’t the one, not that you knew what the one was supposed to feel like or knew if you would ever feel such an intense, romantic love, but you had this strange idea that the one for you would be someone who could understand you on a different level, and you didn’t have that with Seokjin even if you did talk all the time. You were quite sure the feeling was mutual and now, looking into his brown eyes with a scowl, you saw that the feeling was indeed mutual.

Also, Seokjin was an immature shithead.

A loveable, worldwide handsome, immature shithead. Redeemable.

Still.

You were horny.

And Seokjin was horny.

You weren’t going to date Seokjin ever, but your best friend was hot as hell and you could definitely bang him without any regrets.

“Let’s fuck,” he breathed into your face.

You raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t make it weird.”

Don’t make it weird, yeah, okaaay dude–

Your thoughts were suddenly cut off when Seokjin kissed you.

His forearms closed in behind your back and he pressed his bound wrists into your shoulder blades, pushing you into his solid chest and his embrace, taking your breath away. He always had good hugs, even if they were just to comfort you when your favorite flavor of ice lollys stopped being stocked at your local grocery store – still tragic to this day – and even when he was clinging onto you like a howling monkey because a cockroach was in the bathroom and he was screaming at you to kill it and nearly blowing out your eardrums, even then…

Now.

You closed your legs in around his hips and rolled your crotch into him, suddenly kissing him back.

He gasped into your mouth, your eyes half-opening, him gazing back at you, long lashes and dark eyebrows and glowing tan skin, holy shit, your best friend was handsome as fuck, why did other men even try when Kim Seokjin existed?

“Are you falling in love with me because I’m so handsome?” Seokjin teased, nipping at your lower lip.

Your eye twitched. Oh, yes, that’s right, because you’re annoying.

You shoved him and he yelped, clutching your back as you both fell onto the bed with a flump! You slid out from under his arms, skin prickling at Seokjin’s involuntary whine at your departure. Don’t make this weird, yeah, okay, don’t turn me on this much, dumbass, you are reminding me of… You pushed the thought away.

You didn’t want to think about other people when the person you were touching was right in front of you.

“What are you – yah!”

You gripped the waistband of his sweatpants and yanked down, exposing his underwear – bright blue, nice, nice – and his clothed erection, leaning in, hot breath ghosting over it, Seokjin jerking his arms about because he seemed undecided on either if he wanted to see or not see, but you let him deal with that in his own time, lowering your mouth, tongue extended, fingers splayed over his hips, silver rings glinting in his bedroom lights.

“You look like a demon,” you heard from above you.

You planted your tongue on the spot where the head of his cock would be and soaked it with saliva.

“F-Fuck!”

That shut him up real quick.

Your eyes drifted up, lapping slowly, barely stimulating the sensitive head through his underwear, closing your lips around it so the fabric clung wetly to the taut skin underneath. His cock swelled and twitched under your mouth; the action was mirrored by Seokjin’s jaw. He was clenching it along with his hands balled into fists, gasping for breath.

“O-Oh, f-fuck…!”

You were beginning to get the hint with each passing second of working your tongue around his rapidly hardening cock. Seokjin had put himself in the sub category when you asked back then because he liked to things being done for him. It was less about the mental aspect and more of the physical acts of service in his case. However, he wasn’t very good at articulating what he wanted and thus the natural pattern of someone just doing it led to, ah, exhibit A.

You currently parting your lips and letting your tongue snake out, coating the length with saliva.

But.

You could see it in his eyes, that burning intensity.

Maybe part of it was because it was you. He probably didn’t have those butterfly jitters of trying to woo a stranger or the nervousness of looking bad in the honeymoon phase of a relationship. There was already a level of comfort – and the ability to readily shit-talk each other at any moment – and so Seokjin was free to relax, even if it was a bizarre situation of sexual discovery.

“Take it off,” he growled.

Your fingers creeped up his sides, hooking over his boxer briefs. Slow, deliberate, kissing up his length, on the tightrope, dominant in your control, submissive in the action, raising your head so Seokjin could lift his hips, feathering kisses on the exposed skin and making him hiss and shudder, eyelids fluttering, slipping into subservience a little.

At the end of the day, who killed the unwanted bugs in your shared apartment?

Yeah, you.

“Oh, f… fucking shit…”

You tilted your head and ran your tongue up and down the length, licking up the sides and circling around the thick head, bordering on frustratingly soft, switching to wet, sloppy kisses when his hands raised, making him pause, gazing down at you curiously and attentively, entranced by the action. You ducked down, tongue slurping around his balls, lifting his cock, kissing, sucking, eyes closing, tip of your wet muscle drawing zig-zag patterns that soft skin.

Seokjin moaned your name.

A shiver of electricity went up your spine.

Alright, fine, you were getting turned on.

You wrapped your lips around his balls and enveloped them both with your mouth.

“Whoa!”

You opened your eyes to see Seokjin staring wide-eyed at you, hands straight up to stare at you between his upper arms. You almost laughed at the hilarious triangular-looking pose, but your mouth was currently full, so you restrained yourself.

“That’s possible?! You can put both nuts in your mouth at the same time?!”

Uh.

Where you supposed to respond with your cheeks stuffed with his nutties?

You hummed casually in response.

“A-Ah…!”

Seokjin gasped at the vibrations and the movement of your tongue slapping all over them, short, rapid licks all over his skin, watching him with a cocked eyebrow, but he didn’t even notice, hands dropping and moaning to the ceiling, his eyes closing and savoring the hot wet warmth and the power of your mouth, shivering as your hand slowly stroked his length in time with your tongue.

You let him bask in it before detaching and swallowing his cock.

“Gah!”

Seokjiinie, you thought wryly, we gotta work on your repertoire of sex sounds.

You spied him looking down at you, so you paused around the swollen head and slid your tongue out, circling and wrapping around his length while sucking on the tip and rubbing the back of your tongue along the underside.

Seokjin made a bunch of weird croaking noises that were, strangely, rather attractive. Okay, you could admit it. You were kind of a sucker for your best friend in the most platonic way possible… while in the middle of sucking his dick.

What?

He was handsome!

You began to bob your head up and down, tongue and lips descending, taking him deep so you kissed the base of his cock, head buried in your throat, waiting for him to glance down at you, hazy brown orbs under lush lashes, and you would peek your tongue out and lap at his balls, interrupting the tightness, causing him to swear and jerk his hips up, urging you to keep consistent speed and pace, all the while watching every single movement of your tongue. You kept this irregular pace, slow, then fast, then slow again when he looked at you, then fast when the ecstasy was too much and he closed his eyes, over and over. You could see that a battle was being waged Seokjin’s pretty head, between wanting to observe the lewdness of you licking his balls with his hard cock buried in your throat while also desperately needing to get to the fuck off.

“You… bitch… suck me off properly, fuck…”

You raised all the way so only the head was in your mouth and sucked, rubbing up and around it, swirling all over, teasing the slit and soaking the sensitive skin, rutting it against the roof of your mouth and Seokjin groaned, pressing his head back into the pillows, black hair covering his eyes, fists pressed to his chest.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, please, let me cum!”

His hips rammed up and you dug your nails into them, wincing as the head hit the top of your throat and slid down, cutting off your air, and then he began to thrust erratically, the position, inability to use his hands as leverage, and your resistance not letting him set up a good rhythm. You had to force him back down, popping your mouth off, snarling.

“I’m gonna gag if you do that! You want me to vomit on your dick or what?”

But all of a sudden Seokjin sat up again, grabbing your pajama shirt and yanking you to him, saliva dripping down your chin and then it was on his chin, a messy, savage kiss, ravenous need in his actions, pulling you to him, close, closer, you twisting and then gasping as he pushed one of your thighs down, planting your soaked panties on the exposed part of his thigh.

“Ah, Seok–”

He attacked your lips again with a light growl, sparks shooting across your skin, his thigh rising and bouncing you both on the bed, his legs still tangled in his pants and underwear but the effect was undeniable.

Seokjin was making you ride his thigh.

Whoa.

He bit your lower lip and sucked hard, your eyes fluttering closed, hips rocking, heat turning hotter, wet turning wetter, your sticky, sweet juices clinging to his upper thigh, your own pressed against his saliva-covered cock, wrapping your arms around him, close, closer, you thrusting your tongue in his mouth and him moaning before he did the same to you, starting a tug of war, rubbing harder against his skin, his muscle tensing against your covered clit, friction and wetness everywhere, too many clothes and no eye contact, one of your hands slipping into his black locks and tilting his head, deepening the kiss and inhaling his exhale, shuddering at the erotic nature of the moment.

He mumbled your name against your lips, still clutching your pajamas, stars bunched in his hands, fingertips pressed into the curve of your breasts.

“Can I try the rope tying now?” Seokjin whispered, voice gravelly and low.

-

“Excuse me?”

There was a ripped-open condom wrapper sitting on the bed.

“What?”

Your pajama shirt, bra, and panties were on the floor, along with Seokjin’s shirt, sweatpants, and underwear.

“Why are you – gah!”

You sucked in a breath as you sank down on his cock. Fuck, it was tight, tight as you lowered yourself onto his hips, Seokjin gasping and clutching the long length of red cotton rope that you had carefully untied from his wrists. You had even taken the extra step to massage them afterward, not that he needed it because of your careful work – good job, past you – but he appreciated it all the same, because deep down Kim Seokjin was a prince.

“Oh my God, you’re so tight, shit, shit, shit…”

You neglected to tell your best friend that you were both low-key proud of and turned on by your own ability to take dick without much foreplay. That little edge of tightness added just the right amount of spice of pain that amplified to the pleasure.

Okay.

And yes, you felt a special kind of glee as you witnessed Seokjin’s stunned shock and near passed-out expression from being inside you.

You held out your wrists and grinned. “Go ahead. Tie me up.”

Seokjin gawked at you like you had three heads.

You squeezed your breasts together with your upper arms, tilting your head with a devilish grin.

“God, you’re so hot, but you look crazy,” he wheezed.

Your grin dropped and your eye twitched. “Is that supposed to be a compliment or…?”

Seokjin shrugged, and moved your hands so they were in the better position for him. Much to your annoyance, he didn’t elaborate.

“Um, let’s see, you left a bit out to use as a tie and…”

You began to rock your hips.

“H-Hey!”

The side of your lips curved upward. “What? We’re multitasking.”

“We–?” Seokjin choked, gritting his teeth as you pulsed around his hard length, rolling your hips gently, adjusting until you found a comfortable spot so the head hit you in just the right spot, ah, yes, right there, spreading your fingers out over his chest, leaning your forehead against his, not quite going full force but a slow, deliberate rhythm that wasn’t going to make either of you cum, but, damn, did it feel good.

Seokjin shuddered, gasping your name.

“Tie me up, Seokjin,” you murmured back, caressing his skin.

His eyes darted up, saturated with lust, searching your eyes, and you gazed back.

You could be a real jerk right now.

His hot exhale washed over your lips, a shudder of nervousness.

But this was your best friend, and he was trusting you.

You tilted your head and kissed him softly, flush against his plush lips.

“Come on,” you nudged his nose lightly. “Do it.”

You viewed him from under your lashes. He shivered. Almost.

He needed only one more little push.

“Want you, Seokjinnie,” you breathed against his skin, hints of need and desperation in your voice.

A small smile danced on his lips, staring into your eyes.

You might have fallen for him a little bit in that moment.

“Okay.”

He kissed the side of your mouth, a teasing little peck, and you smirked, turning your head so you wouldn’t break the image you had created for him, but he was already looking down, busily occupied with your wrists, so you drew back, focusing instead on riding him, closing your eyes. You built a leisurely, pleasurable pace, leaning forward a bit to rub your clit against the base of his cock, sighing contentedly at the way he filled you, a wonderful, thick, satisfying girth that you could get used to, other than the fact that most of the time Seokjin drove you up the wall, but, hey, maybe if both of you reached a certain age and you were still single, maybe you could marry your best friend solely for having accessible dick…

“Ah! Perfect.”

You cracked open one eye.

And tried not to burst out laughing.

“Erm… well…” you coughed, tugging at the rope a little. It looked messy and rather hideous, parts overlapping and twisting awkwardly, but he had the… basic idea? It wasn’t like you were going to do anything dumb anyway, so it was pretty good for a first time.

Seokjin frowned. “I don’t know how you did it so neatly…”

“You line up the coils next to each other – ah!”

He seemed to think that was good enough and grabbed handfuls of your ass, causing you to tip forward and brace your hands against his chest, gasping as his hips thrust up into you, abrupt pleasure blooming up your core, sudden squelch of wetness between your joined hips.

“Come on,” he grunted, clenching his jaw, tone getting deeper and more dangerous with each word. “I have to get off, and now.”

He smacked his hands down on your ass and you almost whimpered.

Almost.

Seokjin drew back a little, giving you a strange look.

“W… What?” you managed to get out.

He tilted his head. “Do you like that?”

You almost said, no, of course not, but you stopped yourself, looking down at the red rope tied around your wrists, heat flaring in your cheeks, ass stinging slightly from his slap.

His cock twitched inside you.

Your eyes flickered up to him. A sly smirk danced on your lips.

“Yeah. I like the things you do to me.”

You saw Seokjin pause, brown eyes widening a little, black hair over his forehead.

You pushed him down on the bed. He gasped, but he was used to it now, gripping your ass and tipping his head back as you began to really ride him, waving your hips to ram his cock into your pussy, not even noticing the moan seeping from your lips, fuck, it was good, fulfilling and deep, your bound hands on his chest, fingers spread out and nails digging into his skin a little, but Seokjin seemed to be into it, his own nails sinking into your ass, pushing you down with every descent, hitting you harder, rougher, intensifying the pleasure, building onto it. Hot breath, warm skin, joined hips, loud slaps, rocking bedframe, your breasts bouncing with each thrust, gazing at each other through half-lidded eyes, not quite seeing each other but drowning in the gratification, the roughness, gasping sharply as his open palm smacked down on your ass again, making it bounce and jiggle in his hands, your core and thighs squeezing tighter, witnessing his tight hiss of desire, mesmerized by your sound so he did it again, spanking the other cheek, and you did it again, whimper creeping out, arousal consuming his handsome features, intoxicated by your reaction to his action so he did it again and again, hard, stinging slaps as you rode his stiff, quivering cock harder and faster, fuck, Seokjin must be incredibly turned on because he was so fucking hard, just so incredibly sexy how hard he was right now, even the pain was nothing but an injection of added carnal pleasure, throwing your head back and sinking your nails into his skin, fucking him recklessly, forgetting about hiding your moans, who the fuck cared, not you and not him because Seokjin too was crying out, the sinful sound of sex echoing off his bedroom walls, except instead of you in your bedroom putting headphones on to drown him out, you were in his bedroom, doing it, fucking the daylights out of him.

Alright.

You could see why girls wanted to date your best friend now.

Seokjin was a loud dork, but he had a great dick.

“F-Fuck, Seokjin, fuck!”

He had a similar response, although it was more a choked garble of your name mixed with, “Oh fuck, I’m gonna cum, fuck!”

You must really be drunk on his dick because even that turned you on and tipped you over the edge.

Your thighs tensed and you moaned deeply, tucking your chin down and spreading your palms onto his pecs, wrists straining against the cotton rope, a rapid torrent of adrenaline soaring through you and then you smacked your ass down onto Seokjin’s crotch, whining as you came in vicious pulses of pleasure, clenching around his jerking length and you realized Seokjin was clutching your ass, pinning it down so you couldn’t move, shooting his release into the condom, so much that you felt his cock shudder and throb inside you, head buried in your deepest, most pleasurable spot, you feeling all of him and him feeling all of you.

Holy shit.

You almost saw stars.

“Hah… wow… I guess I can’t blame younger dudes for wanting this pussy…”

Your eyes weren’t open but your eyebrow twitched in annoyance.

“Shut up, Seokjin.”

-

“Come on, man! Look what you did!” Seokjin barked accusingly, pointing to his chest with red indents of your rings.

“Excuse me? I’m the one who has scratches and a bruised ass!”

“You’ve marred my beautiful skin! I should fine you!”

“Where’s that fuckin’ whip – get your naked ass back here, Kim Seokjin!”

-

Hm, well, maybe you would find your true love some other time. Maybe try gambling?

--

masterpost

#seokjin x reader #seokjin x you #seokjin smut #bts smut #kim seokjin smut #kim seokjin x reader #kim seokjin x you

[flowercrown-bard]

I have a sentence for you...or a prompt. I don't know what I want you to do with it, but by god please do something:

"He doesn't have anxiety. He just has a god complex and no opposable thumbs!"

My darling nonny. First of all, what. Second of all, I love you and I love this prompt! I made the weirdest noise when I read it. I did not expect that second sentence XD

The thing is, I didn't know what I wanted to do with this prompt either...while being sober, so here's what my slightly tipsy brain came up with :D

word count: 2160

can be read platonic or romatic I think

content warnings: use of the name ‘Julian’ (not by Geralt), one very bad sexual innuendo (nothing sexual happens)

part 2

The spell hit Jaskier square in the chest, before Geralt had time to react and throw himself in front of him.

“Geralt?” Jaskier’s eyes went wide, though not in fear but in anticipation, as they snapped over to the witcher. “Geralt, what’s happening?”

Helplessly but not overly concerned, Geralt watched as Jaskier’s arms took on an unnatural position, bent at his sides. The bard’s head started to bob.

Geralt blinked at him and turned to the young sorcerer that looked curiously at Jaskier.

“Why aren’t you more worried?” The mage furrowed his brows. “Shouldn’t he be terrified?”

He turned to Geralt, who only shrugged.

“This happens regularly,” Geralt replied and his lips twitched up. “Last month, he’s been hit by a truth spell and the month before, he drank a potion that made him invisible to all but Roach.” His smile turned into a grin. “That was a very peaceful time.”

“Excuse me?” Jaskier squawked, his head still bobbing. “You missed me!”

“I didn’t. I could still hear you.” Geralt turned his attention back to the sorcerer who stared at them as if they were insane. “So, what exactly does this spell do?” Almost casually, Geralt’s hand wandered to the sword strapped to his back. “It better not be anything actually dangerous.”

Jaskier might have gotten cocky with how easily Geralt was able to break curses with all the experience he now had, but that didn’t mean Geralt wasn’t prepared to fight anyone who meant to cause Jaskier true harm. Even if Jaskier thought himself near invincible by now.

“No, no!” The mage held up his hands. “It’s not dangerous. I swear! It’s just supposed to…” he swallowed, his eyes darting between Jaskier and Geralt, clearly trying to figure out which one was more dangerous: The armed witcher or the bard who didn’t seem to be bothered in the least by being cursed but seemed rather giddy at the prospect of finding out what was going to happen next – after all, curses made for the most exciting songs, according to the bard. “It’s supposed to make his appearance match his character.”

Jaskier opened his mouth, probably to say something along the lines of ‘I already am as beautiful on the outside as I am on the inside’, but instead of words, a loud cock-a-doodle-doo left Jaskier’s lips. For a second, he looked terrified, before his expression morphed into one of fury and he let out a tirade of what was probably supposed to be insults.

Geralt exchanged a look with the mage, drawing up one eyebrow, when Jaskier continued to cluck.

“Ah, well, you see,” the mage turned bright red, “Marx was quite sure that he,” he glanced at Jaskier, who suddenly shrunk, his hair turning bright red and rising up and turning into a coxcomb, “was a coward and would turn into a chicken.”

Jaskier gave the mage one final indignant glare, probably cursing his rival’s name, before his mouth turned into a beak and his face was no longer that of a human, capable of expressing such emotions.

“Your employer was wrong,” Geralt deadpanned. “Jaskier is anything but a coward.” With the corners of his lips twitching and a glint in his eyes, he added, “But he definitely can be a cocky bastard.”

Jaskier, the cock, fluttered with his wings in indignation and let out another crow, looking up at Geralt. Though Jaskier could no longer speak or make facial expressions, Geralt knew exactly what the pleading look Jaskier sent him meant.

Geralt knew a hundred and one ways to break a curse. But more importantly, he knew Jaskier.

And so, Geralt knew exactly what Jaskier needed him to do.

--

It was ridiculously easy to break into Valdo Marx’ quarters at night, even while carrying a rooster that never stopped clucking and fluttering his wings excitedly in one arm. Jaskier could count himself lucky that he hadn’t turned into a peacock. It might have been more fitting, if Geralt had anything to say about it, but it would have definitely made scaling the building and squeezing through the window together, much harder.

Once inside the troubadour’s rooms, Geralt set Jaskier down gently.

“Do your worst,” he said with a grin and watched Jaskier ruffle his feathers in excitement, before he darted across the room, tearing at Valdo Marx’ notebooks with his beak, tearing at the decorative pillows on the armchair and plucking the strings of the lute standing against a wall harshly enough with his claws that they nearly snapped.

Geralt grimaced at the sound, but leaned back against a wall with his arms crossed in front of his chest, watching in amusement as his best friend wreaked as much havoc in his rival’s rooms as possible.

The noise must have roused Valdo Marx from his sleep, for a muffled curse came through the closed door, presumably leading to the troubadour’s bed room. The sound of Valdo Marx jumping out of his bed and hasting towards his now destroyed living room was interrupted by Jaskier, who crowed again and fluttered his wings in an attempt to make himself taller, preparing to make an impression when Valdo finally saw him.

The door was flung open and a dishevelled troubadour appeared, staring in horror at the mess that was his living space.

“What in the name of –“

His eyes fell on Jaskier first, then he saw the witcher still leaning against the wall, pointedly casual. Realisation dawned on Valdo’s face, followed briefly by a flash of triumph, that instantly turned into regret when Jaskier began hacking at the notebooks with more glee than before, preening under the horrified attention of his new audience.

“Witcher,” Valdo said breathlessly. “Put a stop to this, this instant!”

Geralt lifted a brow. “You got what you wanted, didn’t you?”

“Yes, yes, I proved Julian is a coward.” He waved his hands through the air, his voice turning shrill with every second that his panic grew. “I get to see him anxious and he’s reacting very poorly and I have to face the consequences. I get it. I shouldn’t have hired that mage. Is that what you want to hear?”

Geralt let out a low hum, drawing it out longer than necessary, simply because he knew how much Jaskier enjoyed witnessing Valdo’s growing despair.

“You’re right, you’re the one who has to face the consequences for cursing him.”

Relief flooded Valdo’s face. “Great. Now make him stop!”

Jaskier looked Valdo directly in the eyes as he fluttered onto the table and ruined the remaining notes the troubadour had carefully arranged in neat piles on his desk in the least dignified way a bird could ruin something. Though Jaskier’s voice was stolen from him, the mess he left on the notes couldn’t have been a more obvious statement: Valdo’s songs were shit.

The slighted troubadour’s face turned red with fury.

“How dare you!” Valdo took a step towards the destructive rooster but thought better of it almost immediately. He settled on pointing an accusatory finger at Jaskier instead of risking coming anywhere near him. “You’re a cad and a coward! I should have known how poorly you’d react to being cursed – becoming panicked and being unable to control yourself!”

Geralt tilted his head to the side. “See, that’s the thing,” he said slowly, his voice even enough that only Jaskier would be able to tell how much he enjoyed this as well, “That’s where you are wrong. Jaskier isn’t a coward. His fluttering around and destroying things right now? He’s not having anxiety. He just has a god complex and no opposable thumbs!" Geralt gave Valdo a shit-eating grin. “And he’s got a crow to pluck with you.”

“He-“ Valdo visibly had to restrain himself. “Help me, witcher. You can’t just let this monster destroy my property. He…he-!”

“You want me to get rid of a monster for you?”

Valdo nodded eagerly.

Geralt exchanged a look with Jaskier and shrugged.

“I don’t work for free.”

Valdo spluttered. “You can’t be serious.”

Geralt remained silent and Jaskier took a threatening step towards the open door to Valdo’s bedroom, obviously with the intent of destroying Valdo’s bed in any way he could think of. Panic flashed across Valdo’s face.

“I’ll pay you!” he shouted quickly. “I – I’ll write a sing about you. If you help me, I’ll sing about…” his eyes darted around the room, clearly struggling to come up with something on the spot. His gaze found Jaskier, before he grabbed Geralt’s arm, licking his lips nervously, or perhaps in an attempt to look seductive, “ – about how masterfully you handle cock.”

Jaskier froze and Geralt could see the moment when Valdo realised that he had said the wrong fucking thing.

If cocks could look murderous, Jaskier definitely did in this moment.

Geralt couldn’t tell if his rage came from the prospect of Valdo writing a song about this encounter and making a profit out of it, or if he was indignant because Jaskier had had the exact same idea for a song. Or perhaps he had a problem with Valdo’s barely concealed attempt at compromising Geralt, something Jaskier himself had taken great joy in doing with the worst possible pick-up lines, since the day they had met.

Whatever the reason for his anger, Jaskier took a deliberate pause, in which Valdo had enough time to regret every decision that had led up to this moment, before he charged at the troubadour, fluttering his wings and jumping up into Valdo’s face, clawing at his curls and tearing at his lacy night shirt.

“Witcher!” Valdo screeched, not unlike a rooster himself, and waved his arms to shoo Jaskier off – unsuccessfully. “Make him go away! Break the fucking curse! I – I’ll pay you! Twenty crowns!”

“Seventy,” Geralt deadpanned. No one in their right mind would pay that much coin, but Valdo Marx was evidently desperate and his decision was helped along by the rooster, who’s beak came dangerously close to tugging at the troubadour’s moustache.

“Fine! I’ll pay you seventy crowns.” Valdo’s voice broke in his blind panic. He would likely be unable to sing the next day, from all the shouting he did. “Just get him off of me!”

Geralt waited another heartbeat, granting Jaskier a last moment of rightful – and undoubtedly petty – vengeance, before pushing off the wall, opening his arms invitingly.

“Jaskier?”

Jaskier clucked in disappointment and pecked one last time at Valdo’s hair, before fluttering into Geralt’s arms.

The witcher left the troubadour’s rooms with his best friend, still in the form of a very smug cock in his arms, seventy crows richer and an experience he and Jaskier would laugh about many times over the next years.

--

As Geralt sat the rooster down on the bed at the room they had rented and let himself fall onto the bed next to him, Jaskier looked incredibly pleased with himself, preening and making noises, as if recounting the happenings, though Geralt had witnessed them first- hand.

When Geralt tilted his head in amusement, Jaskier seemed to realise that he still had no voice – or opposable thumbs - and let out a rather loud and obnoxious noise.

“Sorry,” Geralt said with a shit-eating grin, “I have no idea what you want from me. You’ll have to speak more clearly.”

Jaskier glared at him and fluttered closer to tug at Geralt’s hair impatiently.

Geralt chuckled and ran a hand over Jaskier’s soft feathers, making the bird-bard relax under his ministrations, though it was clear that Jaskier did so very reluctantly and would hold a grudge, if Geralt didn’t break the curse in the next five minutes.

Geralt hummed thoughtfully as he petted Jaskier.

“Just for the record, I thought taking revenge on Marx was a terrible idea,” he said, and when Jaskier clucked reproachfully, he added, “but it was quite impressive. And I had a lot of fun watching you.”

Geralt hadn’t known that cocks had the ability to look proud, but Jaskier somehow managed to do just that.

“In fact,” Geralt said slowly, already knowing that Jaskier would agree, once he heard Geralt’s full proposition, “how would you like to wait just a little longer before I break the curse?”

Jaskier pecked at Geralt’s fingers and glared at him.

“Come to Kaer Morhen with me,” Geralt said, flicking his fingers lightly against Jaskier’s beak. At his words, Jaskier perked up, cocking his head to the side curiously.

“Last winter, Lambert destroyed my room with a moon dust bomb. The damn silver shavings are still everywhere.” Geralt’s lips stretched into a wolfish grin. “I’m sure, as my ‘best friend in the whole wide world’, you wouldn’t mind returning the favour and wreaking a little havoc in my brother’s room. I couldn’t imagine anyone would be better suited for that job than you.”

Jaskier fluttered excitedly into Geralt’s lap and the sound he made in response to Geralt’s words could only be described as incredibly cocky.

#at first i wanted to make the prompt about Roach #but nahh #Hähnchen #aka. my favourite insult Dandelion receives in the witcher books #i still don't know if the english translation is 'cock' or 'chicken' but either way I love the german word the translater chose #it's beautifully stupid #my writing #geralt #jaskier #valdo marx #geraskier #geralt/jaskier #geralt&jaskier #fic #witcher #witcher fic #prompt #ask and you shall receive #here i was thinking (for the tenth time this year) that I would take a break from writing #and then my dear nonny just had to sent me the funniest prompt #ily nonny #feral jaskier #cursed jaskier

[pastelwitchling]

Based on this prompt an anon sent to @manescosmic. Kaylie, don’t let me do any more of these. You have to forbid it. You must.

Michael needs Alex’s help.

“If the world was ending, you’d come over, right?”

Alex raised an eyebrow at Michael’s greeting. He supposed, after all they’d been through together, and now with Doomsday looming on the horizon in the shape of a clone and a clandestine organization neither of them could understand, that this opener was warranted.

Nonetheless, Alex had questions.

“Is it the end of the world?”

“I have no idea yet,” Michael huffed, “but it’s looking that way. It’s definitely the end of my bunker.”

Alex could hear metal on metal in the distance and a weird siren sound that he couldn’t place. He pressed his phone to his cheek and shut his eyes for a second.

Then he said, “Give me ten minutes.”

It took Alex eight minutes to make it to the junkyard. He heard more muffled scraping metal and the ground trembled slightly the closer he came to Michael’s bunker. He opened the door, the airstream conveniently pushed aside, and almost at once, a wrench flew into the air and fell somewhere in the distance.

Alex, eyes wide, called down, “Guerin?!”

“I’m here!” CRASH! “Just a second!”

Alex heard Michael’s grunts and cursing. More scraping metal and more heavy glass hitting the floor and more faint siren noises, like someone was circling the rim of the largest wine glass ever.

Then another piece soared up, and Alex barely managed to avoid it. Unlike the wrench, it fell almost straight back down, right into Alex’s arms. It was a large spaceship piece, broken off.

“Good,” Michael panted, “you caught it.”

Alex shook his head, handing him the piece. “What’s going on? Why’s your bunker going all SkyNet?”

He raised his hands, helpless, and sighed. “The turquoise,” he said. “I tried to forge the stones into the glass piece –”

“To see if that would mend whatever broken internal transceiver is keeping them from signaling anyone outside the atmosphere, right,” Alex said easily. “And?”

The corner of Michael’s lips tugged up with something like awe and fondness, and Alex blushed.

“And –” Michael started to say when another glass piece tossed itself out the door and into the sky. Michael caught it with a raised hand, and threw it back inside, along with the other piece, before shutting the door. “That,” he said. “This weird frequency started going off, and it won’t stop, and everything in the bunker – steel, glass, alien stones – it’s all gone haywire. Like –”

“—like the collision of the stones and the glass created a new code with a new frequency that accesses all other codes within all objects,” Alex finished in a mutter, his eyes narrowing at the bunker door as something else beat against it. “Like a master key code to . . . everything.”

Michael sighed. “Private, you are some kind of sexy.”

Alex cleared his throat and looked away. “Okay,” he said, “so why am I here?”

Michael titled his head. “Do you know anyone else that’s better at coding than you?”

“You’re kidding, right?” Alex scoffed. “I’m trained in hacking and algorithms. This is alien tech. You’re supposed to be the genius, do I need to explain to you the difference?”

“Look,” he said, “if I could ask for Liz’s help, I would.”

“That’s a lie,” Alex said. “You’ve been looking for any excuse to get me over here in the last two weeks!”

“I want to see you,” Michael said without batting an eye. “I won’t apologize for that. But this really is an Alex-only emergency. And you’re going to do it.”

“That sure of yourself, huh?”

“Me?” he snickered. “Not even a little bit. I’m just sure of you.”

Alex faltered, and shoved whatever stammered excuse he was considering giving to the back of his mind. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “What do you need?”

Michael smiled, and Alex knew he’d signed his own death warrant a long time ago.

 Five hours later found Alex and Michael in Michael’s airstream, Alex at the small desk Michael had attached to his counter, Michael sitting on the table beside their steaming cups of coffee, the handles touching.

Alex had spent the first hour going over the security footage Michael kept for research purposes, and studying the faint lines of light that seemed to stretch from the stone to the glass and vice versa, like the two were melding together before they shattered apart, sending everything else within a ten-foot radius into a frenzy.

Now Alex was studying the symbols and lines of light he’d traced earlier, cross-referencing them with every photo, line of coding, symbols, and word he had on file, trying to make sense of where the glitch started and how to fix it. Michael seemed adamant on watching him the whole time.

“I don’t really need you here for this,” Alex had tried at one point. “If you need to work the auto shop today –”

“Nope,” Michael had said cheerfully. “I’m all yours.”

The implication alone left Alex red-faced, and Michael smiled like he was proud of himself for it. Alex was determined after that to pretend the cowboy wasn’t there. That plan went about as well as the day was going, because just when Alex thought he might’ve spotted something in the current of codes, Michael leaned in and Alex got a sight down his open flannel, all the way down to his bellybutton, and to the delicious hairy skin above his belt buckle.

“You okay?” Michael asked in a tone that suggested he knew exactly what he was doing.

“I’m fine,” Alex said through grit teeth. But then Michael’s thigh pressed against the back of Alex’s hand, and Michael’s thumb played idly with the hairs at the nape of Alex’s neck when he put a hand on the back of his chair, and Michael’s curls were close enough to brush Alex’s brow and leave him yearning for the touch of them against his fingers.

Alex rubbed his face, exhausted. When he looked up, Michael was looking at him with a dimmed smile. “Tired?” he asked.

“No,” Alex sniffled, returning to the computer. “I’m okay.”

Michael didn’t seem to believe him, and he put a hand in Alex’s hair, his fingers raking through the strands. Alex didn’t tell him to stop or turn away. It felt too good, the touch too soothing, and after this flirty distance they’ve kept, he wanted and needed Michael’s hands on him more than he wanted to admit.

So he worked while Michael raked his hair back, and as they hit the six hour mark, Alex found the glitch. He told Michael to consider it an on-and-off switch. He would have to do the one thing he hadn’t thought of doing; trying to combine the stone and glass again.

“It won’t meld them together,” Alex said, “but it will shut off the master key.”

Michael jumped back into the bunker without hesitation, even as Alex suggested he be the one to try it. “It’s my theory.”

Michael had only smiled like Alex was the cutest thing in the world, and touched his chin. “If it doesn’t work,” he said, “I don’t want to see a hair hurt on your head.”

Michael disappeared down the ladder before he could see Alex turn red. Alex waited and waited, and soon, the crashing stopped, the siren stopped, and he heard Michael’s bark of laughter.

When he climbed up, Alex expected a cheerful whoop!, or maybe a simple thank you, but Michael’s grin was wide as he stepped out, took Alex’s face in his hands, and crashed their mouths together.

Alex was startled, even as Michael pulled back and pressed their foreheads together, still grinning. “You’re incredible,” he breathed.

Alex was transfixed only for a moment before he pulled back. “D-Don’t,” he said. “Don’t do that.”

Michael’s smile faltered, the brilliant light in his eyes darker. “Why not?” he tried coming in close again, taking Alex by the waist, but Alex stepped back. “Alex, why don’t you want me touching you?”

Alex looked up.

“You – you used to love it.”

“Is that really what you think? That I don’t want you to touch me?”

He barked a humorless laugh. “What else am I supposed to think, Alex?”

“All I’ve ever wanted was you!” Alex growled, and Michael blinked, surprised. “After everything I’ve done, don’t you dare insult me by telling me I don’t want you to touch me. The only person whose touch ever mattered was you, Guerin, and you know that, so don’t pretend you don’t.”

Michael swallowed and shook his head, his expression turning hopeful and helpless at the same time. When he spoke, his voice was quiet, afraid.

“Then why?” he asked, his words like a plea. “Why won’t you . . . why won’t you let me near you?”

Alex pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes and shook his head. “I can’t – I just – I don’t want to screw it up this time, okay?”

Michael was silent a moment. Then, “Screw what up?”

“This,” he said, gesturing between them. “Us. I can’t see us lose again, Guerin, I can’t. This might be the last chance we get, and – and . . . I can’t lose you again. If I do something wrong, if I’m – if I’m not careful –”

“Stop, stop,” Michael closed the distance between them and took Alex’s face in his hands tightly. “Look at me, Private. It wasn’t your fault, okay? It – hey.” He made Alex hold his gaze, despite his doubt. “It wasn’t your fault. It was mine. It – it was mine, Alex. You were brave, okay? You were so brave, and I – I was scared. And I chased you away –”

“And I left,” Alex whispered, his eyes glassy. Michael looked like his heart was breaking. “I left, and I shouldn’t have.”

Michael brushed Alex’s cheekbone with his thumb and gave a small, sad smile. “I ran before you did. I was just louder at blaming you.”

Alex clenched his jaw and took hold of Michael’s waist, terrified he would disappear without his touch. “I don’t want to break this again,” he confessed.

Michael smiled like he couldn’t believe how Alex was missing the obvious. “Baby,” he said. “You can’t break cosmic.”

#alex manes #michael guerin #malex #malex fic #malex fanfic #malex fanfiction #roswell new mexico #roswell nm #malex angst #malex fluff #tyler blackburn #michael vlamis

[theres-an-impulstor-among-us]

Zedaph is a hacker, again. Friday night stabby crew plus zed. He decides to see how the lover role reacts to the airlock.

i’ve got two requests for Zed and the airlock but i’m gonna do two instead of combining them into one for two reasons: 1) they’re both slightly different, and 2) i wanna write as much Zed/airlock stuff as possible

…

“Hey, guys,” says Zedaph happily, approaching two of his new friends in the cafeteria. “How’s it going?”

“Yeah, good,” Astro responds warmly. “I’m just watching Joker’s back while he does a task.”

“I see, I see.” Zedaph pauses for a moment. “So you two are the lovers, right?”

Joker whirls round to face him. “What makes you say that? Did Astro tell you? God, Astro, you’re not meant to tell people!”

“Hey, I-!” Astro begins.

“No, he didn’t say anything,” Zedaph chuckles. “It’s kinda obvious.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you’re currently holding hands with him.”

“Oh.” Joker looks down at his and Astro’s hands, currently linked at their side. “I guess that’d give it away.”

“Excellent, excellent. Follow me.”

The two exchange a glance before following Zedaph down to storage. To their shock, they find an open sliding door.

“What’s this?” Astro asks slowly.

Zedaph glances up from his tablet. “Something I wanna do an experiment with. Can one of you stand in there?”

Joker and Astro exchange a frown. “Why?” asks the former.

“I just wanna test something out,” Zedaph says. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing bad. Just an experiment.”

After a moment, Astro nudges Joker forward. “Go on, then.”

“Why ME?” demands Joker.

“Because I’m sure as hell not getting involved in this.”

Sighing, Joker walks into the small room and spreads his arms. “There. I’m in. What now?”

“Ah, good! Stay still.”

Zedaph twists the wheel and pulls the lever, closing the door.

“I muted the noise so he wouldn’t get spooked,” Zedaph says to Astro. “It’d make him panic if he heard a robotic voice counting down to his death.”

Astro stares at him with wide eyes. “D-DEATH?”

Zedaph nods. “Yes. This is an airlock; in less than a minute, Joker will be ejected into space.”

“No, wait, you can’t do that!” Astro yelps. “If he dies, I will too!”

“That’s what we’re here to test,” says Zedaph. “I have a hunch and I wanna see if I’m right.”

“Is- Is this what you always do when you play this game?! Weird and mildly traumatising experiments?”

“Weird and mildly traumatising sums up the majority of my experiments, not gonna lie.”

Astro hears the outer airlock door slide open and turns away, bracing himself for the death he knows is coming. He holds his breath and waits.

...but nothing happens.

“Just as I theorised,” says Zedaph triumphantly. “Astro, the airlock isn’t meant to exist. It’s a way of killing that doesn’t fully register as a way of killing. Do you know what this means?”

Astro stares at him with wide eyes and an open mouth, unable to respond.

Zedaph excitedly grips his shoulders. “The airlock can separate the lovers, dude! This is revolutionary!”

“Zedaph-!” Astro tries to keep himself calm but he’s unable to stop hushed panic from creeping into his voice. “He- He was the imposter…!”

Zedaph slowly turns to look at the airlock, then back to face his new friend. “He… He was...?”

“Y-Yes! How are we supposed to explain this to the others?!”

Zedaph considers this for a moment. “I could say I sheriffed him.”

“Are you the sheriff?”

“No.”

“Then they’re going to know that’s not true!”

“Hey, relax,” says Zedaph calmly. “It’s fine. I’ll explain everything once we get back to the lobby. For now, we’ll let the game continue with only one imposter.”

And with that, he just walks off, as if nothing happened.

Astro watches him go, unsure of how to react. His head is spinning. The lovers’ bond is gone; it died with Joker.

And he has no idea how to feel about that.

…

“Okay, let me get this straight…” Tango rubs his temples with his fingers. “There’s a secret airlock on the ship and you used it to kill Joker and that somehow severed the lovers thing?”

Zedaph nods. “That’s right. You didn’t know there was an airlock on the ship?”

Tango shakes his head but as he opens his mouth to say “no”, he stops. Why does that seem so wrong?

“I think we should agree to not use the airlock again,” says Etho. “It seems too powerful. I mean, two people have been ejected at once before. And the mechanics seem sketchy. It’s just better for everyone if we leave it alone.”

Zedaph glances sharply at Etho, but nobody else seems to have noticed what Etho just said.

When the next round starts, Zedaph goes straight to admin and takes a moment to breathe deeply. His mind is churning with thoughts and feelings.

The airlock is a glitch; it’s not fully supposed to exist. But the same applies to Zedaph’s hacking abilities. So the two are fighting each other, battling for the right to overpower the other. Part of Zedaph’s code is fighting to forget the airlock, part of it is fighting for him to use it, even when he’s not imposter.

But something else concerns Zedaph the most. Only he is supposed to remember past uses of the airlock, or even the fact that the airlock exists.

...so why does Etho remember…?

#friday night stabby #zedaph #vaunna’s requests #true airlock au

[frogtanii]

hq boys as the crimes they’d commit

warnings: CRIMES, crackfic, probably many typos idk i’m so tired lmaooo, cursing, drinking ??? idfk 😩💦

an: and i did this for what?? inspired by hq hcs royalty @sugardaddykenma @hina-wit-da-glock (AJSKSJ SORRY FOR TAGGING Y’ALL IF YOU SEE THIS, IT IS DEF NOT UP TO PAR W Y’ALLS WORKS ILY)

karasuno

sawamura daichi- insurance fraud!! somehow this is such a dad crime to commit?? dadchi didn’t try (dumb excuse, how do you accidentally commit insurance fraud smh) to commit insurance fraud but at one point in his late-thirties, he was very very broke and was already working as much as possible so, he decided to fake an ankle injury, as you do, and filed a bunch of claims which made him bank. daichi kept doing it until he was able to quit one of his jobs and buy himself a really nice suit and a rolex (uhhh 🥵). he somehow never got caught tho and to this day, none of his friends know how he was able to afford a tesla on a cop’s salary (sorry daichi but acab 😔✨)

sugawara kōshi- child abandonment!! ok you can try and fight me on this but i feel in my bones that suga absolutely despises children. he can tolerate ages 10+ but anything younger than that, he will punt them into the next dimension. the thing is, people just assume he likes kids because of how good he is with his team which is why his aunt begged him to babysit his nephew taro. taro was being an absolute brat when suga took him out for the day and he was 👉👈 this close to snapping. he put taro down for like 3 seconds to pay for their ice cream and when he turned back, the demon spawn was gone. he panicked, running around the park looking for taro when it turns out, taro was just bent down behind the bench. some random karen called the police and suga has never craved murder more.

nishinoya yuu- arson!! you CANNOT tell me nishinoya doesn’t have a ~murder~ playlist that he listens to to get himself hype (me too noya, me too). one night, he got a lil too hype listening to start a riot by duckwrth and watching demolition videos on youtube. he snuck out of his house to an empty shed like 30 minutes away and maybe... lit it on fire while genocide by lil darkie played on a speaker nearby. what he did NOT anticipate was the absolute size of the fire so he freaked out and called the firefighters who promptly called the police. he didn’t want to get grounded so he called daichi to bail him out. daichi still told noya’s parents 😔.

tanaka ryūnosuke- vandalism!! tanaka had been on alt tiktok and saw a group of cool friends spray painting an abandoned building. he thought “that’s cool, lemme do that!” but then he realized he had no friends (AHDGS JK I LOVE TANAKA). he asked nishinoya who was grounded from the arson incident and he knew he definitely couldn’t ask daichi, suga, asahi, or enoshita so he decided to go it alone. that proved to be a MASSIVE mistake. he got the supplies, arrived to the building of his choice (thanks saeko :3), and decided to spray paint a huge p3ni5 in bright red paint. he finished “successfully” and zoomed back home. what he didn’t realize with his two-and-a-half braincells is that he signed his glorious piece with his full name. the cops were at his house the next morning...🧍

hinata shoyō- forgery!! hinata did NOT think that forgery was even a crime. how was he supposed to know that he wasn’t allowed to copy his mom’s signature on a permission form! all he wanted was to go to an overnight training camp 😿

kageyama tobio- attempted murder!! kageyama swears it sounds worse than was and he is absolutely incorrect. what happened was so much worse. he and hinata were having a competition to see who could hold their breath the longest underwater (you can’t tell me they haven’t done some dumbass shit like this) and kageyma lost almost instantly (he has the tiny lungs of an asthmatic). he didn’t want hinata to notice so he held hinata’s head under the water for like 10 seconds. suga walked in though, saw hinata thrashing around in the water and immediately called the police. kageyama never forgave him.

tsukishima kei- cyberbullying!! first of all, i had no idea you could get arrested for cyber bullying!? that being said, neither did tsukishima who spent 80% of his time making fun of people online (and on his real account!! bold). eventually one of the people he bullied (hinata) reported him on instagram and his very lame account was deleted (pls don’t bully people online 😤).

yamaguchi tadashi- shoplifting!! andjksh this is so funny because this scenario has happened to me and i can just SEE this happening to poor tadashi. yamaguchi gets super late night cravings (and usually tsukki will walk with him at like 3 am 🥺 nEWAYS) so he’ll sneak out and walk to the mini-mart near his house. one night, he was so tired but also super hungry so he went onto his nightly routine and basically sleepwalked into the store. he picked out his favorite chips and candy bar (which are sour cream&onion lays and milky ways in case you were wondering 😌✨) and just... walked out the store without paying. the store clerk was mysteriously missing so yamaguchi made it all the way home, ate half the bag of chips and passed out without realizing what he’d done. once he did, he cried for 2 hours straight.

nekoma

kuroo tetsurō- telemarketing fraud!! kuroo originally did telemarketing fraud as a joke?? like he was trying to prank call someone pretending that they had lost their information and they actually gave it to him??? he was mildly concerned but even more excited. he did it over and over again but he never used the info for anything. to this day, kuroo literally has a notebook full of credit card numbers and bank account passwords but he refuses to use it because he believes it’s ✨wrong✨(but it isn’t wrong to take all that information in the first place under false pretenses, not realizing that once people find out, they are forced to close credit cards and accounts but go off self righteous king). once he brought the book up to kenma and he offered to sell it on the dark web. now kuroo feels less bad about what he’s done! :D

kozume kenma- computer crime!! pfttt this one seems kinda obvious but what do you expect from kenma :). he spends so much time on the internet, he’s definitely picked up some less than legal skills that still help him now 👀. kenma did little mini crimes like getting into other people’s wifi but his crowning achievement was when he hacked into the minneapolis pd website and had it so when you opened the page, a black lives matter screen came up. he never told anyone that it was him who did it but he thinks it’s the best he’s ever done.

yaku morisuke- racketeering!! yaku, the feral king, ran an underground gambling ring in the basement of nekoma (do they have basements?? who knows! i don’t!) during his third year. the only reason it didn’t get shut down was because coach nekomata took a portion of yaku’s profits whenever he won (which was literally all the time). everyone on the team has lost money to him which is why they never play with him anymore. they won’t even let yaku play monopoly 😔.

haiba lev- indecent exposure!! poor lev’s head is so empty, he tends to fall for whatever pranks his senpai’s do to him. this time kuroo had somehow convinced him that in order to grow his schlong, he had to run outside naked for 10 minutes because the moonlight had special growing properties. lev was a lil scared ngl because he was already superrr tall and didn’t need to grow his height (or his dick ((boy is hung)) but poor lev is insecure) but he did it anyway. long story short, an old woman saw him parading around the neighborhood naked and called el policia. 0/10 dick did NOT grow and had to spend a night in jail naked 😿

aoba johsai

oikawa tōru- prostitution!! KAKKAKA iwazumi made fun of oikawa for being so shitty and said that he couldn’t pick up anyone if he tried. flattykawa took this as a personal challenge and went out onto the street, asking people if they’d have sex with him. with the way he was asking (and the way he was dressed), people assumed he was a paid w h o r e and someone eventually reported him. iwazumi had to pick oikawa up from the station- he never let him live this one down.

iwaizumi hajime- battery!! it wasn’t technically battery but oikawa is a lil bitch and overreacts (at least in his words -_-). the amount of times iwa-chan has beat the absolute shit out of oikawa is uNREAL. he just can’t handle the stupidity sometimes so he just smacks the crap outta him. not for real for real but the way oikawa reacts, you’d think a murder was occurring. one time, shittykawa screeched so loud, they got a noise complaint -_- hajime hates it in these streets.

matsukawa issei & hanamaki takahiro- conspiracy!! issei and hiro have a secret blog where they discuss conspiracy theories and such but one day, hiro found an article that explained how jfk’s death was an inside job. he sent it to issei who began to theorize how HE’D do it. that devolved into a massive thread on their blog of how’d they murder a president which blew up and caught the attention of the cia who sent the a letter telling them to quietly delete the blog. they did because they were terrified but they kept the letter and now it’s framed in issei’s apartment.

kyōtani kentarō- assault!! baby is an angry little boy but for all the right reasons. he was at a bar (when he’s all grown up, duh) and he spotted an absolute drunk creep hitting on a girl who clearlyyyy did not reciprocate his feelings. kyōtani, being the respectful king that he is, went over to the guy, pulled him by the jacket and beat. the. shit. out of him. while the bartender was happy with the fact that the creep was out, he was not impressed with the damage to his bar. he just sent kyōtani out who casually adjusted his leather jacket and rings, and hopped on his motorcycle to ride away into the night. i am the FATTEST simp for this man ONG 🥴

shiratorizawa

ushijima wakatoshi- stalking!! poor ushijima has no idea how intimidating he can be. he was on a train late at night after practice and the woman sitting across from him left her purse sitting on the seat. being the gentleman that he is, he took the purse and followed her to return it. the only problem is that the closer he got, the faster she ran and when he tried to speak (yknow with his scary, deep, baritone voice), the woman screeched and called the cops on him because he was a “strange, big man who was following her home.” when the police showed up, ushijima was painfully confused and just held up this tiny ass purse in his massive hands. the cops laughed.

tendō satori- ???!! no one knows what crimes (or how many 😳) tendō has committed but each of his teammates have different ideas- ushijima: “i don’t believe tendou is capable of committing any sort of felony. well, maybe murder”; semi: “of COURSE he’s capable of crimes??! do you know how many times i’ve seen him come into the dorm with a suspicious stain of red on his sweater?? *shudders* if i end up dead, tendō did it...” in actuality, the only crime tendō has committed is ~drugs~ but he’s not bouta tell his friends that.

goshiki tsutomu- would be a VICTIM!! my baby tsutomu would NEVER commit a crime!!! i love this man with my everything and the only crime he’s committed is being too damn cute 😤🥺

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu!! headcanons #hq hcs #hq headcanons #crack fic #tsukishima kei #daichi sawamura #sugawara kōshi #ushijima headcanons #tendou satori #goshiki tsutomu #kyotani kentaro #matsukawa issei #hanamaki takahiro #iwazumi hajime #oikawa torū #haiba lev #yaku morisuke #kenma kozume #kuroo tetsurou #yamaguchi tadashi #hinata shōyō #haikyuu kageyama #nishinoya yuu #haikyuu tanaka #shiritorizawa #karasuno #aoba johsai #nekoma

[votederpycausemufins]

Alright, chapter 2 for the Summoning Family sequel ‘Surprisingly Familiar’. As you could see, I added a character that some of you may not know about, but was the first MCYTer I ever watched as he started uploading in mid 2010.

And now I finally decided to add him in since he knows a number of the hermits from other things he’s done. If you’re looking for stuff to watch, you could watch his old series to get some lore or just for fun.

anyway, onto the story.

“Alright Paul, what was that back there?!” Jrum heard through the door. “You’re the older one, where’s that older sibling wisdom of yours?”

“It’s trying to get rid of the spy and knowing to be careful around Xelqua. He was involved in the Tokyo High School Murders a number of years ago. That’s how I even knew about him to tell you about it.”

“You sent me a letter! That was important enough for you to call or something!”

“I couldn’t at the time. Besides, when he went missing, I thought it was because you found him and took him away, but it turns out he was off on his own doing who knows what.” Paul sighed. “Look, I know some of the hermits from Minecrack, and usually they help with things, but this is different. At the very least from what I’ve heard, the one guy named Iskall has been on the up and up, but Xelqua’s started a war!”

“Apparently actually two.”

“Phil, you know that’s worse. Some of the things the papers said… he should be in prison, not here.”

“Right, and how many times did you go to prison again?” Phil asked, raising an eyebrow.

“That’s different. I was framed once, it was minor another time, and the rest was just from breaking out of prison so they put me back into a better one. They finally gave up when they didn’t have anything left I couldn’t escape.”

“Well I should show you Pandora’s Vault then.” Phil said, before shaking his head to clear his thoughts. “Back on topic. You can’t treat Grian that way. You got all your information from newspapers but I’ve got some myself. It’s not like he’s the only one on my side of the family to cause wars. And whatever happened in Tokyo wasn’t something he wanted to do, I’ve seen the signs of it. So you’re going to go back in there, apologize, and leave unless they actually somehow want you to stay.”

“Wait, there’s one more thing you need to hear.”

“Oh really?” Phil asked sarcastically. “What the fuck could possibly be so important compared to everything else you did back there and needing to apologize for it?”

“Give me a second. Someone’s at the door. Might be the chicken.”

“I don’t think that spy is-” And then it was completely silent. Jrum was taken aback by that, testing the door, but it was locked. He tried enhancing his hearing, but that didn’t work either. Then, he tried to remember if there was anything he could get into the redstone of and hack, and he was pretty sure there was. So the bot made his way to the side of the room and found a line in, doing what he could to listen in.

“-because it makes sense. Punch is dangerous enough without his spies.” Jrum smiled as he heard Paul’s voice again. “If those guys keep showing up he might as well. I tried visiting you, but the place was abandoned and chickens were swarming the place.”

“Then you should have called!” Phil shouted, obviously sounding frustrated.

“Letters are the only guarantee I have. If you would just write back-”

“I’m not using magic paper unless I know who enchanted it.”

“Hoodie always enchants it!” Jrum mentally took note of the name, hoping someone else would know more about whoever that was

“How can I be sure?”

“How could I be sure you weren’t all dead when the caste was abandoned?”

“You could have fucking called!” And there was a slam which made Jrum jump, losing his connection to the room. He scrambled to reconnect, surprised to find he was having more trouble this time, but eventually, he did connect again.

“-ause Grian was taking care of it. I know you want to hate him, but maybe don’t freak out at just seeing him.”

“I’ll think about it Phil, but as long as Koka’s around, I’m going to be careful.”

“Wait, how do you know it’s name?” Phil asked, confused.

“You heard it hissing, didn’t you?” Paul asked. “That’s the only one he’s got that does that. That’s why I’m trying to be cautious.”

“Okay, I can sort of see why now. But can you please still try with Grian? He’s had a rough enough life as it is and you don’t need to make it worse.”

There was a sigh from Paul. “Alright, but you’ve also got to promise me something yourself.”

“And what’s that?”

“Maybe the person listening in can tell us, but if not, I’m going to see if-”

Jrum pulled away, cutting off what he was hearing. He scrambled to fix everything then run back to the party, trying to calm his breathing when he was finally back with everyone else.

.

.

.

Mumbo stood by as Grian kept setting up a comfort nest in Barge HQ. He was doing his best to keep the bots’ pet chicken from getting in Grian’s way, but that ended up with plenty of pecking targeting his arms and legs. If he hadn’t recognized the red on the bird’s beak as redstone dust left on his suit, he would have panicked thinking it was blood. Or maybe it was, so he quickly checked.

The redstoner didn’t seem to have wounds that drew blood, which was good, but he did take his eyes off of Kokatori, who was nearly at Grian’s nest of blankets. Mumbo quickly ran over and picked the bird up, looking around to see if he could get some sort of cage for it. There wasn’t really, but there were glass windows. So he simply used a few blocks to keep the chicken in place, glad it wasn’t left completely in the dark.

Sighing about taking care of the problem, Mumbo looked back over to Grian, who was still fiddling with blankets even though the nest looked complete. “Grian?” Mumbo tried to ask softly, but the avian still jumped at the speech. “Sorry for startling you. How are you feeling?”

“Honestly? Like crap. There’s not a lot of good stuff from growing up after I went missing. Sure, there’s stuff here and there, but a lot of it after everything that’s happened is just tainted. And now it’s getting worse, like finding out d- Phil started acting worse to Tommy, and now apparently one tv show that is partially responsible for me being alive was made by my uncle who knew about me and hates my guts.”

Mumbo put a hand on Grian’s back, the currently puffed up wings ruffling a bit before calming back down a little bit. “Well, he seems to know a good number of the other hermits. I’m sure they can change his mind about you.” Then Mumbo stepped over the wall of blankets to sit next to Grian. “And they may know him and be his friends, but last I checked, he hasn’t been around for a bit any you definitely have. Even Xisuma has called you the missing puzzle piece of the hermits. Without you, it just doesn’t feel right.”

Grian smiled a little and leaned on Mumbo’s shoulder. “Thanks, I needed to hear that.”

Mumbo nodded, then paused for a moment to ask a question. “You said he’s part of the reason you’re alive?”

Grian nodded. “He had a survival show. He used stuff from knives to swords to guns. The one I had to use wasn’t really legally obtained and so there wasn’t an instruction manual.”

“Grian, are you telling me you watched a tv show to learn how to use a… a firearm?”

Grian smiled. “Yep! And some other stuff as well. You’ll never know how many ways I know how to dispose of a body.”

Mumbo stared wide eyed at the builder, who was giving a mischievous little smile. “Grian. Grian you’re joking, right?” He didn’t stop smiling or even answer. “Grian, please tell me that’s a joke! Grian!”

As they continued to talk, Kokatori finished pecking at the glass, having cut a rough circle into it. The bird held a foot up and pushed the area, the cut portion breaking away cleanly and falling to the ground far below.

The chicken waited, trying to see if anyone had heard the sound and would react, but that didn’t seem to be the case. With that taken care of, it jumped out of the window, gliding down to the ground. It landed right near the entrance to Jrum’s party building, landing on the ledge of a window. Kokatori looked inside and saw the various party members. The first robot seemed to be fine, the second one more nervous. Odd, what did it have to be nervous about? But then the chicken saw Paul and that ‘brother’ of his were back in the room. Well, maybe the second robot was more of an asset.

The chicken carefully walked over to Jrum, carefully pecking his leg to get his attention. It didn’t want to scare him since it had seen that Jrum wasn’t the most fond of it, but it was surprised to see Jrum gladly pick it up. “Oh, you’re not supposed to be in here! That new person doesn’t like chickens like you, so let’s go outside.”

Kokatori held in a hiss. Great, it was just going to be put back outside. But at the very least the robot was picking it up without looking sick or something. When they were back outside, Kokatori expected to be set down or even dropped, but instead it was spun around so it was looking right at Jrum.

“Alright then. You’re not a normal chicken. So what are you?” Jrum asked, interrogating the chicken. “I mean, it’s obvious they’re right about you being some sort of spy, but there’s something else, isn’t there?”

Kokatori didn’t know if chickens could sweat, but it sure felt like it was right then. But it tried not to show how anxious it was and just clucked.

“I’m taking that as a yes because it doesn’t sound as bad as a no. The new guy knows your name. Nobody told him your name but he knew it. And said you were ‘his’ chicken.” Jrum said, remembering what he had listened to. “He said that was because of your hissing and that you’re the only one that does that. And as far as I know, he’s right and chickens don’t hiss.”

If Kokatori wasn’t sweating before, it was now. Normally that would be filtered out by the mind. Of course that king and his brother knew enough to resist it, but no one else seemed to notice until now this thing. So, it used the foolproof plan of clucking again.

“Right, they don’t, so why are you?” Jrum asked. Alright, clucking had not worked. It hadn’t worked at all. This was bad. But it could be fixed, right? The robot didn’t like chickens because of… because of… right! Because of eggs! So Kokatori quickly had an egg pop out, which was enough to spook the robot and make them run off. Which was good. He didn’t need to take a closer look.

With no one around, Kokatori stomped on the egg, breaking the dark green and cream spotted shell. No one needed to see that. There were already two people around here that knew what was going on, and that was already too many.

It looked back up at the building it had fallen from. It would be easy enough to get back to the top. It just hoped its short escape wouldn’t be noticed. It grabbed the piece of glass it had let fall to the ground, thankfully unbroken, and started climbing up the outside of the building.

Kokatori reached its pitiful excuse for a prison and put the piece of glass back. It clucked a little to remind the two people it was still there, but they mostly ignored it. That was fine. It had work to do anyway.

.

.

.

Tommy watched Paul as he walked over to Xisuma. Sure, he had heard of his uncle from Phil here and there. Mostly complaining about lack of contact and too many letters, which were complete opposites, but it was back when Tommy wasn’t really the loud teen he was today, still affected by how his family looked down on him for unknowingly being too much like his missing brother.

If Grian had been there and told him to suck it up, Tommy’s sure he would. It would be very reluctant, but it was Grian, who was like the one family member he still had a good standing with. Well, obviously also the bots. And Mumbo sort of counted. And all the hermits were honorary family. But he meant in the official sense.

But Grian wasn’t here, specifically because of Paul. And since Tommy was only really okay with Grian, it made him more wary of this being another family member that was going to put him down. If that was going to be the case, he at least had support this time, so Tommy walked over to Paul, trying to look tough.

The teen heard the tail end of Paul’s conversation with Xisuma, trying to get any information he could. “-believe I can think of one or two things he could help with. I’ve tried with Scar and Cub, but they’re more free spirits.”

Paul nodded, then looked over as he noticed Tommy coming over. “Oh hey Tommy. Just talking with the admin here.”

“Yeah, just fucking call him Xisuma. None of that formal title shit.” Tommy said with venom in his voice.

Paul was a bit taken aback, but Xisuma had some clue on what was going on. “Tommy spent some time in a world with a… not so great admin. It affected his first meeting with me, and while we’ve helped out, recent events have brought up old wounds.”

Paul nodded like he understood completely and didn’t even try to argue. “Yeah, not every world has great people in charge. I’m not sure how long I spent making sure the worlds my kids were going to were safe. A few bad ones slipped through the cracks and have left me feeling horrible, so I can’t imagine how Phil must feel about missing one.”

Tommy scoffed. “He probably didn’t care about me getting in trouble. And Techno was fine on his own. Wilbur’s probably the only one he cared about.”

Paul frowned at that. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

Before he could say more, Tommy stopped him. “Oh really? He doesn’t really even care about you. Wil wrote him letters all the time and he read those. That’s why he even showed up to our world finally. But he didn’t read any of your fucking letters obviously.”

“I see. Well, I’m sure it was just-”

“It wasn’t just anything. Phil’s just a crap parent and looks like you’re pretty bad too.”

Xisuma slowly stepped away. He knew it wasn’t the best idea to get in Tommy’s way when he was yelling. Because normally that’s all it was, just yelling. If either person drew a weapon, then it was time to step in, but they had learned that Tommy was loud in general and yelled to get his frustration out.

“What would make you think that?”

“I mean, the way you acted to Grian. Did you have to be such a bitch about it?”

Paul sighed. “I’m not sure how much he’s told you about that world. It was-”

“Hardcore world, no respawns, ghosts existed, Grian got kept hostage by a friend and was abused a lot. If my admin was bad to me, this guy was somehow worse to Grian. Plus, I’m so fucking glad you wrote a letter to Phil and assumed Grian was fine when he disappeared. You could have fucking gone over and checked on him yourself bitch!”

“I was sort of on the other side of the world. And I also didn’t really have the time.”

“Then you could have made some fucking time! It was a family emergency and there was a murder involved. Anyone would let you off for that! I bet you just had a cushy life and couldn’t bother to lift a finger.”

Paul didn’t respond. He didn’t have a good answer. And even if he did, Tommy didn’t want to hear it. The teen stomped away, saying goodbye to everyone, though he specifically left Phil and Paul out of his goodbyes. Then he flew back to his ‘still just borrowing this’ base that was Grian’s old starter base and curled up in bed, pulling Tubbee into his arms.

He pressed his face into their fluff, muttering a few curses, the bee not having a care in the world about what was going on. It was just there to help give Tommy some comfort. Sure, he could always call Tubbo over and have him visit, but he didn’t have the energy and this was good enough.

Soon enough, Tommy was asleep, having worn himself out from both the party and shouting at Paul. He slept so much, he didn’t even wake up when he was poked a few times. Or when his face was drawn on. Or even when some TNT went off. It definitely had Tubbee awake, but it was still in his arms and couldn’t fly off.

“Aww, don’t worry. I’m not gonna kill him. That would tell people I’m here silly! My little pumpkin roll already made sure no one knows I came in, but he can’t do much with me actually here.” Tubbee buzzed a bit, earning a giggle from the visitor. “You know, maybe I can get my boys a pet. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if I took Rusty, now would he?”

The bee wasn’t able to respond, and despite Tommy being asleep, he rolled onto his other side, pulling Tubbee with him. “Oh, maybe I’ll see you later. But I’ve got to go find something now. Bye!”

#hc x dsmp #hermit!tommy au #hermit!tommy #philza #jrumbot #paul soares jr #grian #grian xelqua #avian!grian #watcher!grian #mumbo jumbo #tommyinnit #xisuma #xisumavoid #spy chicken #Hels!grian

[firefly464]

The Real World - Chapter 12

Alright chapter 12 lets goooo. Another slightly slower chapter, but I promise that its gonna be picking up real soon. Also Pami wrote the irl bit because shes the coolest and I love her :D

Made in collaboration with @i-have-this-now​ Thank you to @rivys​ for beta reading and editing!

Master Post

First - Previous - Next

~~~

Dream stared at his friend, confusion and worry filling his mind. The teenager had been staring into space for the past minute or so, not responding to either him or Tubbo. Dream hadn’t been too concerned, until he noticed that Tommy was crying.Tears were streaking down Tommy’s face, forging a path on his cheeks. His expression was filled with a mixture of hope and fear, his eyes glazed over, like he was listening to something that no one else could hear. 

“Tommy? Hellooo? You ok?” Dream asked, waving a hand in front of his face. No response. He glanced over at Tubbo, trying to see if he had any ideas. Instead, when Dream made eye contact with him, Tubbo flinched and sank back into his seat, as if trying to disappear. Right. Of course Tubbo was scared of him. Everyone was scared of him. 

“You know I’m not going to hurt you, right?” He asked, trying to lighten the mood.

The younger brunette stared at him in fear, unsure of how he was supposed to respond. If Dream had said those same words to him a month ago, he would have ran, no questions asked. Now though, he wasn’t sure. He didn’t know this man, had no idea what he was like. All he had to go off of was what Tommy had said. 

His eyes darted over towards his spaced out friend. “What did you do to him?” He asked, struggling to keep the tremor out of his voice. He had only stood up to Dream once, and it had resulted in him nearly losing his arm. Slowly, as to not draw attention to himself, he moved his hand to the hilt of his sword. If this went south, then he sure as hell needed to be ready to defend himself. 

“Nothing! I didn’t do anything, I promise” Dream dropped the bow and put his hands up in an attempt to show he meant no harm. He understood why Tubbo was so scared of him, but that didn’t change the fact that it stung. How could it not? Someone who he had thought of as a friend was now trembling before him in fear. 

“Look, I don’t know what you’re playing at, but if you hurt Tommy in any way I will not hesitate to run you through.” Tubbo’s voice shook with fear, despite his best attempts at keeping it steady. 

Seeing the young teenager like this, Dream couldn’t help but be filled with pity and sadness. He was only 16, still just a kid. He should have been worried about homework, or some other small problem. He shouldn’t be stressing over whether or not he was going to live through the day, or who was going to try and hurt him next. It just wasn’t right.

Dream nodded, his hands still raised.“I promise, Tubbo, I didn’t do anything, and I don’t plan on hurting either of you.”

“Tubbo…” A soft voice startled them both. Tommy was now staring at the fallen bow, the tears freely flowing. 

Tubbo’s attention was instantly drawn to his best friend, his eyes filled with overwhelming concern. “Hey man, you ok?” 

Tommy looked up at his friend. A pang of homesickness shot through him. Everything about the boy next to him felt… wrong. He knew that it was still Tubbo, but that didn’t change the fact that it didn’t seem right. He was too tense, too nervous. It was as if at any moment, he could be attacked. It was so different from the laid back attitude of his Tubbo. The one that got excited over the smallest things. The one who casually went around killing people in game for no real reason. Tommy couldn’t help but miss the energetic and fun loving Tubbo from his own world. Still, he was still his friend. 

Without hesitation, Tommy reached over to give his friend a hug. The tears continued to flow as the words of the message replayed in his mind. ‘I swear, we’re gonna figure something out and get you guys out of there. I promise.’ It wasn’t much to go off of, but goddammit what did he have to lose? 

Tubbo couldn’t help but flinch at the sudden hug. “Hey, is everything alright?” 

“Sorry, sorry” Tommy quickly said, backing up and giving his friend space. He frantically wiped the tears off his face and tried to compose himself. “Yeah, I’m good.” “What the hell was that? You just zoned out, are you sure you’re ok?” Dream asked. 

“I uh, I think I just got a message from Tubbo. Our Tubbo,” he made sure to clarify. “Apparently he’s been working with Wilbur and the other Tommy to try and bring us home…” 

Dream felt his jaw drop. “Wait, really?! You’re kidding!” 

“I swear to you that I am not joking. Trust me, I want to go home as much as you do.”

“How?! What did he say? What do we do?” 

“There’s- There’s a console. Apparently it's like the server console back home, but it's an actual physical computer here. According to Tubbo it has the ability to do some really weird shit.” 

“Like run regular commands?” 

“Yeah, pretty much. Damn, imagine what kinda fucked up shit you could do with that kinda thing…” 

“Uh huh, imagine what kind of fucked up shit this other Dream already did with that thing.” 

“Fuck, you’re right.” 

“So how exactly does this help us get home?” 

“Right, right. I guess that the other Dream figured out how to swap people’s souls across dimensions or something with it.”

Dream’s face lit up as he made the connection. “We could do it too! We could use the command to swap us back and put everything back to normal!” A rush of excitement filled him. Finally, finally they had some direction. They actually had a goal, something to work towards. They had hope. “Where is it? Where can we find it?” 

“See, that's the problem. Actually, there's two problems. One, we don’t know the command. Tubbo was thinking if we could make it to the console, we might be able to communicate with them and figure something out.”

“Wait, what? How would that even work?” 

Tommy shrugged. “I’m not sure. I’m honestly just hoping that Tubbo knows what he’s doing.”

“Riiight. So what's the other problem?” 

Tommy took a deep breath and tried to find something, anything else to look at. He didn’t want to look Dream or Tubbo in the eyes when he told them the truth. Eventually, his eyes rested on the white, porcelain mask that hung on the wall. The simple smile seemed to bore into his very soul, taunting him in a way. He looked away. “The computer is super far away. Apparently it takes a couple days to reach on foot.” 

“Ok? And?” 

“According to the other Tommy, the other Dream is going to delete the server in a little less than 48 hours, which would most likely result in every single one of us dying a very painful death.” 

Dream let out a low whistle. “Right. So you’re telling me that we have to go and find this super powerful computer that's really far away, try to come up with a plan, and figure out what the right command is within the next 48 hours, or the world will be deleted and we all die.” 

“Yeah pretty much.” 

“Right. Ok, no pressure.” he ran a hand through his hair, already trying to figure out what the best course of action was. “Where exactly is the console?” 

“He said it’s in this room made out of bedrock in the middle of a dark forest, almost directly east of us.”

Dream nodded. “Got it. Tommy, go let George know what's going on. See if he wants to join us. It’d probably be smart to have someone who actually knows what they’re doing with us. I’m going to get together some supplies.” 

“Got it. Tubbo, do you wanna come with us?” Tommy asked, startling the brunette. 

He had been deep in thought, trying to keep up with the conversation. He was confused, but he also didn’t want to ask any questions and risk angering Dream. He shook his head. “I’m good. You guys uh, you’ll need someone to cover for you, right? I can tell Wilbur what's going on…” He was lying, of course. He just didn’t want to spend any more time around Dream. Sure, Tommy trusted him, but that didn’t change the fact that just looking at the man brought back painful memories. 

“Ok, that's probably smart. Make sure he knows that the other Tommy is safe, ok? He’s going to be coming home soon.” 

A slight smile crossed Tubbo’s face. “Alright. I can do that. I’ll uh, I’ll see you guys later then.” He rushed out of the base, running towards L’manberg. 

Dream and Tommy were silent, neither of them mentioning the obvious. If all went according to plan, then they would never see this version of Tubbo again. 

~~~

“Florida?!” Tubbo cried, flabbergasted. “We’re going to Florida? That’s like a 9 hour flight!” All this SMP stuff was making his head spin. First, it was just Tommy and Dream’s disappearance, then it escalated to something much, much worse. His friends’ lives were at stake if they didn’t do anything. He honestly didn’t want to believe Tommy, but something told him that what he’s saying is true.

“Look, I’m used to taking on my problems in person. I can’t just sit in front of this thing- whatever weird gadget this is- and do nothing! We have to go there!” Tommy explained.

“Tommy, what will you tell everyone else? What will you tell your parents? You can’t just prance up to them and go ‘hello dearest parents! As it turns out, I’m not your son, but I’m him from another dimension! Y’know how he plays that video game? It’s that dimension! Anyways, I’m off to Florida to go do a murder! I’ll be home before dinner!’ How do you think that’s gonna go down?” Wilbur said.

“Will, I know what I’m doing! This psychopath is gonna try to kill my friends. I need to save them.” Tommy told them desperately. “If we reach him, we can get to his computer and I can go home!”

“We don’t even know where he lives, Tommy!” Wilbur retaliated. 

“Well, I might.” Tubbo said, nonchalantly.

Wilbur blinked. “You what? You’re not going to hack him, Tubbo-” 

“He isn’t our Dream, Will. This is probably the only chance we have to do this! Lives are at stake!”

“But there’s laws--” Wilbur sighed, pulling on his face in resignation. He still had trouble believing in this. Dimension travel? Souls? A few days ago he’d say they never existed. But, now… “Okay, fine. I can get us three to Florida. Earliest flight I can get us will be at about five-in-the-morning. We find Dream and we…” Wilbur trailed off.

“Kill him.” Tommy gritted out.

“NO!” Wilbur and Tubbo shouted.

“Tommy, we are not going to kill him. We need our Dream and Tommy to come back and send both of you back. If you kill him-” Wilbur explained.

“Okay, fine,” Tommy sighed, cutting off whatever it was Wilbur was about to say. “We won’t kill him. We just need to hold him long enough for him to tell us the command.”

“And what if he refuses to tell us?” 

“Then we make him tell us.” 

~~~

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#hey whoever commented about how they had to go to florida #you're a prophet and really cool #i dunno how you managed to figure it out but im just gonna assume it was magic #tubbo_ #tubbolive #dreamwastaken #georgenotfound #wilbursoot #wilbur soot #The Real World #The Real World AU #dream smp #l'manberg #my writing #mcyt #mcyt au #fanfiction #dream team #tommyinnit

[choco-mark]

A Marriage of Inconvenience (3)

overall pairing: mafia!jeno x mafia!oc

overall genre: angst | smut | fluff

warnings: language, mentions of violence + death, oppression of women, murder/homicide, forced (?) kissing but it’s implied that she likes it, mentions of drugs + drug use + drugging someone else, emotional blackmail (kinda)

summary: when two mafia gangs decide to end their family feud after decades, your mother decides to give your hand away to marriage of their son, lee jeno. he seemed to hate you from the moment he laid his eyes on you, but could the resolution lead to something much more than a bride and groom?

words: 5.2k

masterlist

requested by 🤡 anon

18 April

You felt yourself wake up with a haze in your brain, feeling like you were fogged from heat as you opened your eyes with a few blinks. Your body felt like it was on fire, and just as you let out a groan, you tried to bring your hands to your face to rub it a bit, but you couldn’t. Your vision blurred, you tugged at your arms again, now hearing the chains that were coming from the cuffs around your wrists and ankles, anchoring you to the ground.

What happened? It was like someone had read your thoughts when you heard a bright, yet deep laugh in front of you, startling you as you struggled to look up from where you were. I was at the hideout, in the hallway, a smoke bomb went off, and—

Your memory blanked out from there, the last words in your brain being those from your darling fiancee. The entire world is a game, Park. We’re all just a bunch of players. But nothing seemed to come after that, a complete wipe out of everything that could have happened after that smoke bomb went off. “Who’s there?”

A figure came closer to you, your vision clearing slowly with each move it made until it was in the front, kneeling down to the level you were at. The ‘it’ was rather a man, and a very beautiful one in your perspective. His face inched closer to yours, eyes darting all over your face before the ends of his lips darted up in a twisted smile, painting his face gorgeously. “He was right, baby, you’re a pretty one.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but the motion was cut off harshly, the man’s lips coming crashing down on your own as you attempted to push him away. The jingle of the chains was a loud echo in the room, making the man giggle as he dodged your teeth, pressing his tongue into your mouth instead. His mouth was warm, so sweet and inviting as his tongue molded against yours, urging you to give in—to kiss him back for just a moment.

He pulled away from you, the dyed silver hair falling over his eyes as he pushed it back in one motion, licking his lips as if he had just tasted something. “I could just ruin you, Park—” A hand went to your jaw as you opened your mouth again in the slightest, grasping it tightly in his palm as he pulled you closer to him once again. 

In all your years of experience in fighting, never did you think you would go so weak in the knees for such dominance like this. Whoever this mysterious man was, he was making your heart jump in less than a second, making you wonder how you were being so affected by this. I’m drugged, aren’t I? That’s why I’m so weak. 

You weren’t wrong about that, but it wasn’t the drugs that let out a soft whimper when his teeth grazed across your neck, hoping that he wouldn’t hear. He did, however, the darkness of his eyes focusing back on you as a smirk plastered his face again. “So impatient, you are a Park indeed, sweetheart. Say—”

The man’s words were cut off short with a bang coming from the end of the room, making you jump as a door had flown open, a man coming in storming hastily towards the two of you. He let go of the grasp around your jaw, sighing deeply as he stood back up, licking his lips once again as his eyes never left yours. God, why is that so hot? What the fuck? What’s wrong with me?

He turned away from you, facing where the opening of the door was, the people coming into closer view as your eyes focused on the one in the front, his eyes narrow and full of pierced anger. A wave of exhaustion took over you as you recognized the person, the one with the familiar sound of his jeans and black polished boots.

“I told you to watch her, bastard!” he snarled as he took a hold of the other’s man’s collar, pulling it closer to him with a force that made it seem like he would destroy. “Not taint her with your foul blood.”

“Shut up, Taeyong,” the silver-haired man pushed him away with a palm, dusting off his clothing like it was nothing. He looked back up at him, rolling his eyes with another step closer. “All I did was kiss her, brother.”

Taeyong didn’t look at you, his eyes only angrily shaking at the man in front of him as you tried to connect the dots. Your brain was failing to cooperate, however, because with every mental move you tried to make, you felt like you were going to pass out. Taeyong. Lee Taeyong. Where am I, then?

“And you know what,” he continued, looking down at you to where he had just previously stuck his tongue down the wet walls of your throat. “My blood is your blood, you know that. Can’t you lend the girl to me? She’s a Park after all, how can I resist?”

Taeyong seemed to be annoyed with his answer, waving him away for his behavior as the anger dissipated from his face in an instant, looking down at you instead. In his eyes, you looked perfect, just where you belonged as you were locked down to the ground by his own handmade chains wrapped around your shimmering skin. 

It was exactly what you had thought when he just smiled at you, scanning your entire body as your completely wrecked figure overtook his vision. No, Taeyong wasn’t here to save you, you didn’t think he would be the type to do so. He leaned down closer to you, the other man watching as he came down to your level, raising a hand to stroke your hair softly.

“D-Don’t touch me,” you tried to get out, but it was weak, falling from your lips as a desperate whisper that almost pleaded ‘please, touch me’ as they both chuckled, the argument that had taken place merely seconds ago no longer seeming to be an issue. He’s the one who drugged me, isn’t he?

“You’re so much better like this,” his thumb brushed over your lips, the lingering kiss from the silver-haired man still sugary on the edges as he pressed past them, slipping it into your mouth for a brief second before pulling it out. It was filthy, the way your saliva coated his finger until he traced your jawline with the wetness, the liquid drying onto your skin uncomfortably. “So much prettier, pure and hmm—beautiful. Aren’t you just a work of art?”

He didn’t just drug me, he kidnapped me too. His hand trailed to the back of your neck, coldness meeting your hot skin as he chuckled at your heat, eyes darkening from how messy you were getting. Your eyes faltered, looking from Taeyong to the other man, and then back to him; you tried at the chains again, feeling so out of control.

And I think I know exactly why.

Jeno’s hands ran through his now dirtied blond hair for about the hundred time, ruffling it madly as he made his way through the hallway. It had been only a few hours since he had—just lost you from his grasp, and it was already taking a toll on him. Not only did his father just threaten to kill him, he also had held Mark with a knife at his throat, his own son’s throat, threatening to him that he would kill his brother if he didn’t bring you back in one piece.

It didn’t matter how much he reminisced over the events that took place earlier, because your presence was gone almost as quickly as it was there. He had one thing to do, and he fucked that one thing up; if he wasn’t able to find you before the two of you were supposed to have your ‘formal’ engagement, your family would probably wage war against the Lees. Well, it was inevitable at this point, though, since everything that just happened seemed so intricately planned out leading to your disappearance. It wasn’t normal.

Mark walked beside the younger man, scrolling through his tablet on something related to illegal hacking, seeming deeply focused on whatever it was until Jeno reached his room. He looked up from the screen, his eyes shining as he bid him a short goodbye and a promise to inform him if he found anything related to your whereabouts.

It was obvious that Jeno was beyond frustrated: frustrated with himself for being able to lose his hold on you so quickly, and with his father, who didn’t even offer an ounce of help in order to locate you. It was all up to him, and if you weren’t found and brought back to the Lees, other things with happen, things that included your family and his.

He was halfway through stripping his dirty clothing from his body when Mark came bursting into his room, a laptop covering his face as he slammed the door and walked over to his brother, shoving it towards. “I found something—”

The screen reflected a large map of the city, with a point fixated in the middle, marking familiar looking coordinates. Jeno couldn’t quite pinpoint what was so oddly familiar about it, and the longer he looked at the numbers, the more confused he got. He looked up at Mark, blinking a few times. “I don’t get it.”

“Doesn’t it look familiar?” He used his fingers to zoom in on the touchpad, tapping again to show the numbers of the coordinates. “Remember when Father first took us out for a battle, maybe when we were like—thirteen or fourteen? He made us memorize the coordinates.”

Of course Jeno remembered his first battle, the first time he had ever held a gun in his hand away from the training room and the first time he had shot a bullet into a living breathing person. He had earned one of his very rarely occurring praises from his father that day, but it had easy been taken away when he had overestimated himself, ending up with a broken shinbone for a few weeks. It was also the first time he had gotten hurt in battle, and the first time he had lost one.

“Y/N had a phone,” Mark continued, making Jeno perk up from the words. He hadn’t seen you using a phone, not that you were necessarily allowed anyway. “I saw her take one with her before she left, so I traced it down from a few networks to see what was actually on the phone. Whoever kidnapped her had tried to erase everything from the net, but I was able to scavenge the last message sent from her phone.”

With a few taps, he pulled up a encrypted file, typing a few more things to show the actual message. “It was sent from her phone, almost right after we got back home. I couldn’t find who the message was sent to, but it was to a contact that was frequently called in the past few days. But, I was also able to scavenge her last call.”

He pulled up an audio file, pressing it a few times before it played. Your voice came ringing from the device, a voice softer than what Jeno had ever heard from his time with you. “It’s okay, you’ll be okay without me.” The second voice was deep, and Jeno was obviously not expecting it to be a—male.

“But I miss you,” he could hear the slow burn of the other’s voice, the very slight crack that he was able to hear. “Will you come to see me after? Will you visit me soon?” There was a pause, and for a moment Jeno thought that the clip was over, but your soft chuckle was vibrant, startling him a bit; he hadn’t heard you laugh purely before, only in sarcasm or annoyance. 

“Maybe one day, Sungie, I’ll see you.”

Jeno couldn’t help but feel like he was eavesdropping on a conversation that he clearly was not supposed to hear, but he continued listening intently, listening to the male let out a dry chuckle. “But you won’t be with me anymore.”

“Shh, I’m always with you, Jisungie.” The audio broke, your voice being the last ringing noise in Jeno and Mark’s ears as Jeno looked over to his older brother, confusion spreading across his face. Who was she talking to?

“It’s her younger brother,” Mark seemed to have read his mind, taking the laptop back into his hands as he plopped down on the bed, starting to type rapidly. “I tracked him down too, Park Jisung, eighteen. Lives in the Park mansion on the other side of the city, where Y/N used to live. I’m assuming that these coordinates were also sent to his contact, which means whoever kidnapped her also wanted to tie in her family with this.”

It was all a sudden blur to Jeno, it didn’t even seem like it was real as he thought about how coincidental the entire situation was. You were kidnapped, apparently last tracked down at the exact coordinates that he had his first battle at, along with a message sent to your brother basically asking him to come there. It didn’t even seem a little bit right.

After a little more blanking out, it hit him. He clapped his hands together loudly, startling Mark as he sat down next to him. “Remember what Father said on that day? He said that one day we wouldn’t be part of NCT Lee anymore, because we would have evolved into our own people.”

Mark scrunched up his face, nodding for him to continue. “He told us that all of our skills would go use eventually, and it wouldn’t be for the Lees, it wouldn’t be for the family anymore because fighting isn’t about family. Winning isn’t about family.”

“I don’t get it, where—are you going with this?”

“Listen!” Jeno threw up his hands in slight frustration. “He told us that clans never lasted for as long as they thought they would, and that NCT would have to be reorganized once again with all of us included. That’s what the coordinates are for, he wanted us to memorize them because that’s where the beginning of the new clan would be. Or—rather, group.”

He pointed straight at the longitudinal coordinate, the numbers flashing on the screen brightly as he did so.

“NCT 127.”

There was a silky blindfold drawn over your eyes when you woke up again, the initial haze draining your body once again as you sat up, the chains having been removed from your body. But you were tied together now, ropes enclosed your wrists together behind your back, making you struggle.

A hand yanked off the ribbon around your eyes, bright light finally filling your vision. You could feel your head spinning, probably from whatever they had given you previously. “Aw, pretty Y/N is finally awake—”

It was the same sweet voice as before, and you watched as a figure appeared in front of you. You were on some kind of couch now, no longer in the same white room full of painful looking chains, and there was someone sitting across from you. The silver-haired man leaned down to your level, clicking his tongue in mock pity.

“Who are you?” The words came out groggy, almost as if you had been dehydrated for days as your mouth involuntary salivated, making you press your dry lips together. “Who—”

“You can call me Haechan,” he cut you off, his hand moving to your jaw as he forced your face upwards, his own face inching closer to yours. “Oh, baby, it’s so sad that you can’t be mine. Look at you, you’re gorgeous, hmm. I even brought you a gift, darling.” His last words came out as a low hiss, sending shivers through your body as he moved away, letting the person in front of you come into view.

You could’ve sworn your heart stopped in your chest as you saw the familiar dyed hair masking the dark eyes of your younger brother; his eyes were closed, probably dozed off from the way his stance was relaxed, though he had the same ropes around his wrists and ankles. How did he get here? Why did they take him too?

As you opened your mouth to speak, Haechan leaned over to you, untying your wrists just to yank one towards him, a syringe shining in his hands as you tried wriggling away. No wonder you were feeling so out of reality, dozing in and out so quickly, your heart rate faltering as you could barely even keep your breathing normal. “Heroin,” you whispered as you gave up against his grip, wincing slightly as he injected you with it.

“That’s right, baby girl,” he answered softly, contrasting from how he had just given you some of the most dangerously addictive stuff on the planet, pushing you down against the couch as he retied your wrists. “You’re starting to love it, sweetheart, and I’ll keep giving it to you if you continue behaving like a good girl. Hmm?”

Haechan’s hand stroked your hair as he leaned you against the soft cushions, wandering his eyes over your face as he saw you fall into the drug, being thrown into a pleasurable rush, resulting in you letting out a quiet sound. “Feels good, hmm? You like it?”

You couldn’t answer him, your mind being thrown into another reality as you foggily saw him moving over to Jisung, pulling out his arm in the same fashion. “No,” you cried out, launching yourself forward until you were on the ground, your knees grazing painfully against the wooden surface as Haechan looked down at you in awe, his hand drawing back. “Don’t—” He saw your look of desperation, a look that said ‘please, don’t drug my baby brother’ as you struggled against the ties, trying to stand up in your position. 

“You don’t want me to give him some too?” He threw the syringe on the other couch, pulling you up by the waist and throwing you back across from your brother. His fingers lingered on your body for a second longer before he pulled away, tucking a hair away behind your ear as he watched your eyes flutter shut, and then you force them open. “Don’t be selfish, baby, let him have some too.”

“N-No, don’t—please,” you choked out as he took a step back, hooking your legs around his to keep him in place. “Don’t—give him any, please. Don’t touch him—please...”

Haechan wished he could’ve given into your pleads, seeing your eyes turn glossy with each move he made. He glanced over to where the door was, knowing that his older brother would come in at any second to see if he was doing his job properly. All he had to do was put you in a position where you wouldn’t be able to refuse him, and Taeyong was smart enough to know that you could bare the pain against yourself. 

But if it was your family, that was a different situation. Parks did everything for their family, fought for pride and not victory, that was something he learned at a very young age. Family was the last sacrifice that a Park would make, the last sacrifice after themselves. “Please don’t drug him, H-Haechan—”

You weren’t sure if using his name would have convinced him not to, already having seen that he was hesitating from the way you were looking so sincere and affected by just the idea of Jisung being drugged. It wasn’t fake, for once, the emotion was just as real as you showed him, because no, you didn’t want your brother to be harshly drugged the way he had just done you.

But he didn’t speak, only pulling your legs off of him and smoothing it down to the ground, wondering if he should tie your ankles together. You watched as he let his hand wander, rubbing your thighs in a slow fashion, making you believe that he was focusing on you instead of him. It was working, but only for a second until he pushed your body back against the couch with a hard force, knocking the air out of your lungs as he grabbed the syringe again.

“I have to.”

April 19

Jeno knew that he shouldn’t have waited the next morning to go after his lead on you, but his father had refused to send him out on the same day, which seemed contradictory from his words before. He expected that he would’ve agreed immediately, considering he wanted you back that much before, but it just seemed to change in the matter of a few hours.

There was something off about the whole situation, and Jeno didn’t know if it was just his inner self telling him that something was wrong, or if he was overthinking it all. Maybe your entire disappearance was a whole mystery, which was right, it just seemed all too perfect for it to be real. There was no way that Mark would have been able to track you down that easily, usually if someone went missing from the Lee crew, it would take weeks for them to be tracked down, where they were usually found dead.

What was even more confusing was that someone had knowingly kidnapped you, which was what Jeno still couldn’t wrap his head around. They had contacted your brother from the Park household, so was there a possibility that this was a feud between the mysterious 127 gang that was only a myth from his father’s old stories. Yet they had kidnapped you under his own nose, right beside him with the knowledge that you were taken along with the Lees for a mission, which was something that no one but his team and his father knew. 

“Have you seen Donghyuck?” Mark snapped him out of his thoughts, making him look up from his spot in the lobby. “He said he was going underground for dealing before we went out, but I don’t think he ever came back. I just called him like four times, he’s not picking up and I can’t trace his phone—”

Jeno sighed, shaking his head from his thoughts at the mention of his younger brother as he stood up. “Just hope he didn’t knock up some girl again; are you ready? Shouldn’t we have left like—ten minutes ago?” Mark nodded, looking down at his phone before stuffing it in his pocket.

“Yeah, the rest of the guys are in the van already. Also, Father only gave us one today, I asked him for two but he said we wouldn’t need that many people.” He rolled his eyes slightly at his own words, gesturing Jeno towards the door. “Whatever, I think he wants us to find her because we technically lost her, so we only got five other guys. Don’t tell him I said this but, I think he’s kind of crazy.”

“Like, Y/N just got kidnapped and she’s one of the highest ranked soldiers in all of NCT, shouldn’t that like—ring some warning bells? Shouldn’t that mean we should bring more men? Unless he’s wishing us death.” Mark sounded fed up as he spoke, opening the doorway to the large garage, making his way to the van with Jeno following suit.

“I wouldn’t really be surprised if he wanted us to die,” Jeno mumbled in response, running a hand through his head as he climbed into the back of the—not very large vehicle, sitting beside Mark and his technical gadgets. “But he’s obviously expecting us to bring her back before some war breaks out or something.”

It was true, there would be an easy war started with a small match if the Parks found out that the Lees had lost you, their literal prized soldier. And the worst part was that it be completely in the hands of Jeno, the person who was supposed to fucking marry you. He let out a strangled sigh, placing his head in his hands as the van started its engine, driving off to the destination.

At this point, Jeno wished that he was married to you, rather than looking for you all over the city while having his head, and his brother’s head, on the death toll basically waiting to be chopped off if you weren’t brought back in one piece. Wait, no, why would I want to marry her? She’s a bitch.

He glanced up to Mark, who was hastily working on his laptop with something. Mark liked you, at least from what Jeno was able to perceive, he had seen the way you had calmly talked to him the day before him, in a van similar to this one. You didn’t look like you wanted to kill him, not the way you usually snarled at Jeno whenever he spoke. Mark even called you by your first name, which was weird hearing, considering you and him usually just addressed each other on a last name basis.

It had hit him earlier that day that you certainly didn’t want to be inside of his house as much as he didn’t want you in his house, especially from how you talked so highly about your family as if they were the only thing that mattered on the planet. Well, to you, family was everything. Loyalty was everything, just like you had said.

“She’s not as bad as you think she is,” a voice came from beside him, startling Jeno as he looked over at Mark, whose eyes never left his screen. “I know what you’re thinking. You’ve just been a complete ass to her, even though you’re the one she’s marrying. You know that she was supposed to marry Taeyong, right?”

“Yeah, I—wait, what?”

“I assumed that Father didn’t tell you, clearly from the way that you were, uh, behaving around her. Taeyong was the one who saw Y/N on a mission and told Father he—wanted her, I think? And you know Father, well, he’d do anything for his oldest son. So, he sent a letter of engagement. But Y/N is five years younger than him, so the Parks declined. I mean, they declined but not really, they still wanted the peace treaty, so they said they would give her hand to someone who was the same age as her. And, well it went down to you, since Donghyuck wasn’t, well—considered pure blood.”

So that’s why Taeyong was always lingering near her hallway, so he wasn’t fucking one of the servants. Jeno scratched his head confusedly. “Why didn’t I know this? Wait, how do you know this?”

“Donghyuck told me everything, yesterday actually. Taeyong was kind of—the first person Y/N when she got to the palace, and I swear he looked like he was gonna eat her or something. I knew that he was the one who wanted her in the first place, but he didn’t really seem to care that you were engaged to her, so I didn’t think it was really that big of a deal. He kept trying to go into her room, apparently according to some of the servants, and I even saw him once. But, I haven’t seen him since yesterday. I don’t think he knows that she’s gone...”

Something didn’t feel right, for about maybe the third time in the same day. So Taeyong was the one who wanted to marry you, that explained why you had kept saying you were here because of the Lees. She said it on the first day, that someone in the house wanted her here because they saw her during a battle or something. I thought she was lying—

The van came to an abrupt stop, making everyone lurch forward with a combined yelp. “What the fuck happened?” Jeno called for the driver, who had just survived some serious whiplash. “Hey! Why’d you stop? There’s nothing—”

The backdoor of the van slid open with a quick motion, making Jeno and Mark turn tense up, with Jeno aiming his gun straight at the now open door. His hands loosened as he saw who it was, the familiar man he had known so well taking a step up into the van, kneeling to avoid hitting his head against the top. The rest of the men lowered their guns, looking at each other in confusion as he turned to Jeno, a smirk on his face.

“I knew you would come, brother.”

“Y/N, Y/N, wake up,” you felt cool hands on your cheeks, contrasting from the warmth coming from your body as you heard the recognizable deep voice. Your eyes fluttered a little, opening enough for you to see Jisung, his eyes wide and concentrated on you. “Are you okay? Y/N, wait, wait, no don’t close your eyes!”

You took in a short breath, feeling at your wrists to see that they were free, your arms moving slowly as you tried to control your movements. The memories from earlier surged through your head in one motion, making you force your eyes open at your brother. “Did he inject you? Sungie—did he—”

You let your hand slide down his arm, your eyes falling on the puncture mark in the middle, making you let out a painful sigh. He only gave him one dose, right? That’s why he’s still cold. It wasn’t that much. Right? More means he would end up like me. “Inject me? What—what do you mean?”

As he hoisted you up, you looked around the room, scanning it to see no trace of both Taeyong or that—Haechan guy. With another sharp breath, you let yourself lean against the cushions, feeling completely drained out. “Do you know how you got here? Where were you? H-How did they find you? Did you leave the house for a mission, what happened?”

Jisung shook his head, his hair bouncing around with him as he looked at you worriedly and then looked to the ground. “I—You texted me. I mean, I don’t think it was you anymore, but it was from your number. There were coordinates, and it said that you would meet me—there. I told Mom that I was going underground, and I—took a car. It was the center of Seoul. I went into one of the parking garages, and that’s all I remember until—now.”

You hummed, brushing your hair away from your face as you stood up slowly, seeing the broken ropes on the ground and glancing back at your brother. “You got out of the ties, like I taught you?” He nodded, a small smile on his face as you couldn’t help but feel a little proud, reaching over to ruffle his hair. 

You knew how much he hated when you did that, but he received it with a soft expression. It hadn’t even been too long since you had actually seen him, but it had felt like too long of a time, and even though this wasn’t the most ideal reunion, it was better than nothing. You had really thought you wouldn’t see him for a long time.

“How about we get out of here, hmm?”

previous | next

hi guys, here’s the third chapter! it’s gonna get wow very spicy in the fourth part like VERY SPICY, and i won’t make you guys wait as long this time!! expect the fourth part before the dreamies comeback?!?! i hope this chapter wasn’t too boring because there’s no...action between y/n and jeno but this is important for future chapters!! :) love y’all, stay safe and healthy ♡

#a marriage of inconvenience #nct mafia au #nct jeno #jeno x reader #nct jeno x reader #jeno x you #jeno #lee jeno #haechan #lee haechan #haechan au #jeno au #nct dream mafia au #jeno mafia au #haechan mafia au #lee donghyuck #donghyuck #renjun #mark lee #lee mark #nct mark x reader #jeno smut #jeno angst #jeno fluff #jeno crack #nct dream jeno #nct dream jaemin #nct taeyong #nct 127 mark #nct 127

[mittensmorgul]

I came across a snag thinking about souls in the spn universe. Monsters go to purgatory, and we know that counts as having a soul because of Cas and Crowley making a power grab for them. But is there any instance in canon of demons making deals with them so their soul goes to hell instead? Or do we assume they're marked by Eve and a vamp, say, is no longer able to use their own soul as collateral?

Hello there! That's an interesting line of thought, and since the show never addressed it directly, it kind of makes you wonder if it would've worked.

It's also making me wonder what the limitations of demon deals even are.

There's the obvious paradox that you can't make a demon deal to guarantee your soul would go to heaven when you died, since that would render the payment of your soul to hell impossible.

And then there's the question of what exactly a monster soul is, or how much humanity it might retain. Like Benny said in Purgatory, he believed his soul would make it through the Human Portal Back To Earth because he started off human, and his theory was proven to work so that's the conclusion we're being invited to draw.

Not all monsters start out human, though. And I'm not talking about "born werewolves" or shapeshifters, that are at least human-adjacent, or potentially require a human parent. Things like Leviathan and other "pre-human" monsters we just don't know about, and it's questionable what sort of soul they might have. The show never really addressed it at all, other than to suggest they themselves were more powerful than angels and demons both, and I can't imagine a circumstance where they would want to make a deal with a demon.

We were invited to question this sort of thinking about the humanity of a soul through Jack's entire character arc, even if the show never did really provide us any conclusive answers. Jack was "human enough" to have his own heaven at one point, but the empty still laid claim to him. And through Cas, since Metatron (who probably knew and understood more about the workings of the cosmos than anyone other than Chuck himself) fully expected Cas's human soul to come to heaven after he died.

I only bring up those cases because "monster souls" destined for purgatory don't seem to suffer that conflict of "am I human enough to potentially make it into Heaven." So does Purgatory's claim on a "monster soul" override all other potential claims? That's a factor to consider in whether any monster could actually make a demon deal.

We also know monsters in Purgatory can be killed there, and then theoretically go somewhere else... though that location is never specified, it could possibly be the Empty (since angels and demons both go there if they are killed).

I suppose a monster could hack out a demon deal to be turned into a human, but then they'd just be a human soul destined for hell, and I don't think that's exactly what you're asking...

Heck... I now wish we saw some sort of deal between a monster and a demon just so the show would've told us what would happen with that. :'D

Though I suppose there was no real friendship between the souls of purgatory and those of hell based on the storyline of like... season six... I can't imagine most monsters would be inclined to deal with demons after that, at any rate.

#angels and souls #spn monsters #heaven hell purgatory and the empty

[five-rivers]

Long Night in the Valley, Chapter 6

Plans were made.

And discarded.

Different plans were made.  

These were also discarded.  

The problem (besides the fact that their best planners (except Yaoyorozu) were out of commission) was that no one knew what needed to be done. If anything.  Yes, Midoriya had run out of the testing center.  Yes, the whole situation where Midoriya was initially placed in a group apart from all the rest of them was shady.  Yes, the fact that Aizawa and the other half of class was still missing was distressing.  

But they didn’t know what was actually happening.  They didn’t know if the others needed help, or what help they would need.  They didn’t know why Midoriya was running, chased by heroes of all things. Jirou had wondered out loud if Midoriya had been mind-controlled by a villain with a quirk like Shinsou’s.  In response, Kaminari had a (brief) breakdown agonizing about whether he had inadvertently helped a villain kidnap his friend.

What a mad banquet of darkness.  

Luckily, they were training for… well, not situations like these, to be honest, but situations.  Just. In general.  Dark, mysterious situations, where one wrong step could send a person plummeting into an abyss of misery.

Anyway.  

When in such a vexing a perilous situation, the thing to do, as Momo had pointed out, was gather information.  

Was Jirou plugged into the wall?  Yes.  Did Shouji manifest enough ears and eyes to make even Fumikage slightly disturbed? Yes.  Did Yaoyorozu make tiny listening devices that fit on the mice and insects that Kouda had called?  Yes.  Did Kaminari spontaneously manifest hacking skills that no one knew about and then deny that they were hacking skills?  Yes.  Had Dark Shadow pressed herself flat to sneak under doors and temporary room partitions?

Also, yes.  

He tugged on Dark Shadow with his mind, directing her to return.

“Find anything new?” he asked.  Tsuyu, his current partner in not-crime-quite-yet and lookout, leaned closer as well, interested.  

“The lady whose quirk they were using passed out,” reported Dark Shadow.  “Everyone she used it on is still asleep.”

“Nothing about Midori?” asked Tsuyu.  

Dark Shadow’s facial expressions were often limited, but, this time, her scowl was clear.  “Stupid stuff.”

“Like?”

Dark Shadow huffed, and Fumikage felt her annoyance. “Like he’s a villain or a spy. Stupid.”

Tsuyu closed her eyes and swallowed with obvious distaste.

“Do you think that’s why he ran?  It seems unlike him.”

“Huh?” said Dark Shadow.  “Midori didn’t run.”

“What are you talking about, Dark Shadow?” asked Fumikage. “Speak clearly.”

Dark Shadow elbowed him.  “Midori’s friends ran!”

“You mean Ochako, Todoroki, and Iida?” asked Tsuyu.

“No, they’re still asleep.  His friends.  Like you and me are friends, Fumi!”

“You mean his quirk?”

“Uhhuh,” said Dark Shadow, bobbing.  “They’re like us.  Isn’t it obvious?”

“Not really,” said Tsuyu.  

Fumikage leaned and against the wall and slid down to put his head in his hands.  “What a mad banquet of darkness, indeed.  It is as if we journey at night, through a verdant and shadowy valley—”

“Come on, we have to tell the others,” said Tsuyu, nudging him.

.

“What happened?” asked Hitoshi, softly, not quite believing what he’d heard.  He rubbed his fingers over the folds of his artificial vocal cords, stored in the top pocket of his backpack.  Legally speaking, he wasn’t supposed to have it, or any hero support gear, outside the school he wasn’t licensed, even provisionally.    But Hizashi had insisted, and Kayama-sensei didn’t object, so…  

“According to the Hero Commission,” said Hizashi, voice tighter than his hands around the wheel, “Shouta and some of the 1-A students were targeted by a villain at the testing center.”

“What?  What villain? Shigaraki?”  That was the one that had been targeting 1-A again and again and again.  The one that had hurt him so badly at the USJ.  

“No,” said Hizashi.  “They said it was Midoriya.”

Hitoshi blinked, his brain first trying to find a villain that matched the name before shoving his fellow student’s face into his mind’s eye. “You mean, he’s the one that wound up fighting the villain.  How many bones did he break this time?  Or did he get a new quirk?”

“No,” said Kayama-sensei.  “They’re really saying that Midoriya is a villain.”

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” stated Hitoshi. “They think the second coming of All Might sunshine child is a villain?  If he got locked in Tartarus, half the population would, I don’t know, start confessing their sins and become model citizens before the day was out.  If his quirk wasn’t bone-breaking nonsense, I’d say it was the power of friendship.”  He stopped, considered that last sentence.  “Wait, this is about his quirk, isn’t it?”

“We don’t know,” said Hizashi.  

“They’re saying he kidnapped All Might.”

Hitoshi wondered if this was what people felt like when he used his quirk on them, because his brain had just bluescreened and was struggling to restart.  

“They’re what?” screeched Hizashi.  It was a good thing he was the one driving the car.  Hitoshi winced and covered his ears.  

“Didn’t All Might steal Vlad-sensei’s car?” asked Hitoshi, feeling dazed.  “How do you get from that, to Midoriya kidnapping him from across town.”

“I don’t know,” said Kayama, “but it’s all over Heronet and the commission is starting to release it to news networks.”

“That has to be the- the stupidest thing I ever heard! I’d put more money on Yagi kidnapping Midoriya,” said Hizashi, loudly and angrily.  

“What the rat god said before we left makes much more sense now,” said Kayama, mournfully.  

Hitoshi blanched at her reference to the principal.  But then curiosity got the better of him.  “What did he say?”

“That to keep custody of all our staff and students, we were going to have to be creative.”

.

Hizashi had expected many things upon arriving at the testing center.  Being refused access to the unconscious teacher and students was one of them. Obstructive bureaucracy was one of them. People telling him something was illegal or forbidden by protocol when he knew it wasn’t was one of them.  Chaos was one of them.  Confusion was one of them.  Lack of organization was one of them.  

In these things, he was not disappointed.  

What he didn’t expect, however, was for the remaining half of Shouta’s class to not only be one hundred percent down with kinda-sorta kidnapping, but to have already laid a lot of the groundwork for it already.  

Maybe he should have.  But he didn’t.  How was it that Shouta, aka Mr. Expulsion, aka Mr. ‘you have no potential,’ had kept all the students from a class that had no scruples against committing things that most people would consider crimes?  A class that, having been given time to bond, would probably collectively turn to villainy rather than betray one of their number?

He paused and considered his long relationship with Shouta. Mentally squinted.  Never mind.  He could see it now.  

Well.  It wasn’t as if Hizashi wasn’t like that, too.  He’d never really considered expelling any of them.  Except Mineta.  Grape Juice was on thin ice.  

“We most likely would have acted already,” Yaoyorozu said as the rest of the class distracted the commission officials who were supposedly supervising the pickup of the children, “but we didn’t know what we’d do after. No escape plan.”

Reasonable.  The bus driver (Green Light, the Transit Hero) had gone back to the school after dropping them off and had to turn around once he heard the news.  

But, now, Recovery Girl was coming around with a fleet of ambulances from the hero hospital UA contracted with.  A hospital that was, incidentally, not the same as the one the Hero Commission wanted to bring all the people still affected by Saito’s quirk.  

Ambulances had room for riders.  It was unorthodox, but it would work.  

“Well, you have one now,” said Hizashi, quietly.  No one expected him to be quiet.  It made him almost invisible when he was.  

“I know you already have a plan,” interjected Hitoshi. “But is there anything I can do?”

Momo blinked.  “Actually, yes.  We could get them out anyway, but it would help a lot if we had the keys.”

.

The search for Uraraka hadn’t been going well before the city started to fall apart around them.  In fact, it had been going incredibly poorly, because various versions of All Might kept popping up to try and punch Suzuki’s face off.  Literally.  At least two of the All Mights had declared that as their intention prior to attacking.

Tenya wasn’t sure if he should be concerned about his friend’s mental state or baffled about his incredibly violent mental view of All Might.

Perhaps the eyeless villain in Kamino had left a strong impression on him?  But All Might couldn’t have been responsible for the villain’s injuries! It was All Might.  He hardly ever injured villains he took down.  

On the other hand, the villain at Kamino had been terrifyingly strong.  If there were to be an exception to the rule, he was certainly it.  

But the real reason, in Tenya’s opinion, the search had been going poorly was Suzuki.  The man would not stop talking.  His theories were even worse than Todoroki’s!

“That All Might is fake,” he was saying.  “He isn’t even using his quirk, just like Midoriya.”

“I think we all know that the All Might that exists in Midoriya’s mind is not, in fact, the real All Might,” said Aizawa.  

“This destruction is just another ploy, another distraction—”

“We get it,” said Aizawa.  “But it isn’t centered around us, so, logically, it must be centered around Uraraka.”

Suzuki scoffed.  “We should be looking for what Midoriya is trying to hide.”

“The only reason we aren’t beating you up right now,” said Aizawa, “is that we are looking for Uraraka.  So, shut up.”

“What about me?”

Tenya whipped around to see Uraraka stooped over behind them, breathing heavily, hands on her knees.  “Sorry,” she said, “I ran all the way here.”

Aizawa hurried over to her.  Tenya noted that he never quite turned his back to Suzuki.  

“What happened?” he asked.  “Where were you?”

“D- Izuku wanted to talk to me,” she said.  “He said something dangerous was about to happen, but if we went farther in, we could maybe get out?”  

Under normal circumstances, the overly vague report would have been cause for scolding, but Tenya could see how her eyes flicked to Suzuki. There were details she didn’t want him to hear.

“Did he say how to go further in?” asked Aizawa.  

“No.  That happened and he ran off.”  She gestured towards another building that was slowly collapsing.  

“Wait a moment,” said Suzuki.  “If you’re here, what’s there?”

“Uh,” said Uraraka.  

“He told you, didn’t he?  What did he say?”

“Excuse me!” said Tenya.  “You are being very rude right now!  Uraraka has just come back from a harrowing experience!”

Tenya was not very good at lying, but this wasn’t really a lie, per-se.  

The distinction didn’t seem to matter to Suzuki, who gave him a brief, incredulous look before turning back to the gathering storm.  “He doesn’t want us to see this.”

“Don’t you dare,” said Aizawa, eyes narrowing.

Suzuki didn’t listen.

Tenya caught up to him without any trouble and punched him in the back of the head.  “Ow,” said Tenya, who had forgotten he wasn’t wearing his hero costume.  

“Did you break your fingers?” asked Aizawa as he dragged Suzuki back by the foot.  

“I’m going to have you all arrested and stripped of you licenses, unless—”

“Because we didn’t help you with an illegal interrogation? No, you’re not,” said Aizawa.

“Nana!”

The voice bounced off the buildings and was swept away by the wind.  

“Nana!  Master, where are you?”

It was the voice of the younger, vigilante All Might.  

“Is he calling the name or the number?” asked Uraraka.  

“Master!  Please! Answer me!”

With a shuddering heave, the building right next to them tipped over, falling into rubble before it even hit the ground.  The storm wind, heavy with rain and lightning, whipped down the street with all the force of a hurricane.  Tenya had to brace himself and cover his eyes.  

When he could see again, it was to discover Suzuki had run off again.  Towards the fallen building.  

Tenya was honestly torn between letting him get beaten up by whatever had flattened the building, whether it be Midoriya’s subconscious, the illusory All Might, or something worse.  Although, arguably, all those were the same the same thing.  

But Tenya was training to be a hero.  Heroes couldn’t pick and choose who to save.  He, and everyone else took off after Suzuki.  

They all stopped, though, when a boy in a torn UA uniform clambered over the rubble.  The boy cupped his hands around his mouth.  “Nana!”

That hair was recognizable from a mile away, not to mention the height.  All Might. Yet a different version.  Tenya had known UA was All Might’s alma mater, but seeing him in a uniform like this, seeing him vulnerable, not in the way of a man at the end of his career, but as someone just starting out, someone like them, was oddly humbling and completely terrifying.  

What pushed him to this?  What put that distraught tone in his voice?  What put that bloody slash in his uniform and bruised his face?

Tenya had a sinking suspicion he knew what.  He didn’t even want to come into contact with the memory of that monster from Kamino.  

All Might was scanning the ground, looking for- Looking for something.  Someone?

His eyes fell on them, and even from this distance, Tenya could see them widen.  All Might began to scramble down the hill.  

“You,” he shouted, as he came closer.  “You—Underclassmen.  Have you seen-?”  He gasped for air.  

Even Suzuki, from what he could see, looked taken aback.  

“Have you seen a woman about—” He hesitated and adjusted his hand downward, to about the height of his chin.  Which was still taller than Tenya.  

All Might was tall in high school.  Or, at least, Midoriya thought All Might was tall in high school.  

This was confusing.  

“A woman about this tall.  She’s—She has black hair, and she wears it, um, half up.”  All Might fanned his hand behind his head to illustrate. “She’s a hero.  Wears- Wears yellow gloves.”  He paused for a moment, eyes flicking from one to the next.  “You haven’t seen her.”  He whipped back around.  “Nana!”

“What even is this supposed to be?” demanded Suzuki.  

“Truly,” said Todoroki, “their bond is inspiring.  For All Might to tell Midoriya even of this tragedy…”

“Todoroki!  That’s entirely inappropriate!” exclaimed Tenya, turning to face his classmate.  

The wind picked up again.  The buildings began to twinkle.  

Earlier, you said something about being a vigilante. What was up with that, anyway?

Midoriya’s voice sounded like it was right next to him, and yet the sound was entirely sourceless.  

The colors shifted.

.

Izuku wasn’t sure if he wanted to curse the bystander culture encouraged by the hero system or bless it for its unintentional effects.  Even though Toshinori was clearly suffering, slumped against a wall and shoulders heaving, no one stopped to help him.  In fact, most people were averting their eyes, barely looking at him.  

Generally speaking, Izuku decided, he’d curse it.  In this particular instance, however, it benefitted them.  

He looked back and forth before dashing across the street, not caring about jaywalking at the moment.  He jogged up to Toshinori, swallowing the name before it left his lips. Right.  They were undercover, and the commission definitely knew Toshinori’s real name.  

“Dad,” he said instead, and mentally felt himself collide with a wall.  Couldn’t he have picked something else?  Come up with some fake name?  Or just not used a name to begin with.  With effort, he picked himself up and his dream-self kept running.  “I got your text,” he said, instead, for the benefit of anyone listening.  He inserted himself under one of Toshinori’s arms.  “Let’s go home.”

He smiled at a couple of people who were staring and hoped they wouldn’t report this.  

“I can walk, I can walk,” said Toshinori heaving himself off the wall with a shudder.  “I’m fine.”

This was a lie.  Izuku could still see the flashback playing out in his mind’s eye.  Even so, he nodded and tried to give Toshinori space, even as Toshinori put one hand on his shoulder and leaned on it heavily.  

This mental invasion was wearing both of them out.  No.  All of them out.  This was not, they reminded him, at all normal.  

Five gently pressed ways of dealing with flashbacks into his awareness.  Thank goodness for Five and his comparative normalcy.  

“We’re okay,” he said.  “We’re just on a street in Musutafu.  You can feel me, right?  And the sidewalk under your feet.  And you can hear the traffic and smell the cars.”  He kept going.

Toshinori gave a hum of assent after each item Izuku listed, but he could tell it wasn’t enough.  He might be able to see and hear, to touch and taste, but he could do the same things to that mental battleground.  

“What if,” said Izuku, desperately, “you tell me a story?”

“A story?” rasped Toshinori.  

“Y-yeah.  Earlier, you said something about being a vigilante.  What was up with that, anyway?”

.

It isn’t well known, said Yagi’s voice as the world came back into focus in an entirely different city with entirely different weather and signage, but I didn’t grow up in a terribly pleasant area.  

In fact, there was quite a lot of crime.  

Aizawa caught sight of a familiar head of yellow hair positioned above a plain gakuran.  The younger version of Yagi was staring down an alleyway.  

Suddenly, Aizawa felt himself pulled to stand right behind Yagi. A man with a mutation quirk was being mugged by two young men with fire quirks.  He blinked.  The scene didn’t change, even behind his eyelids.  He couldn’t see his students, or Suzuki.  

What was this, a cutscene?

I, ah, rather disliked that.  Obviously, my thoughts about become a symbol of peace for the world were, well… Just thoughts.  But even then, for my own little corner of the world, I wanted to make a difference.

Yagi, showcasing the fact that he’d always been a bit of an idiot, pulled on a medical mask and threw his bookbag at one of the muggers and punched the other one in the face.  At least he wasn’t using his quirk to do it.  The villain would have been paste on the side of the building.  

On the other hand, this was presumably some imagining of Midoriya’s, possibly based on a story he heard from All Might, if the voiceover was anything to go by.  

Oh, said Midoriya, I did that a couple of times.  Stop a mugging, I mean.                                                                                                                                          

I thought you said you weren’t involved in any vigilantism.

It wasn’t vigilantism!  They were just things I happened to run into, and I couldn’t just not help.

Sometimes, I wonder if your quirk really isn’t something like a villain magnet…

The scene shifted again, making Aizawa feel dizzy, even though he wasn’t moving.  Except, maybe that was why he felt dizzy.  Motion sickness.  

I never knew my parents.  I grew up in a foster home.  

Aizawa blinked, and the scene became clear.  A small apartment building with a tiny, tattered lawn. Someone’s shoe had been left on the sidewalk in front, and Yagi was climbing the stairs to the door.  

Then, Aizawa was inside, and internally wincing at the noise level.  Screaming preteens were so far out of his comfort level you couldn’t see it with a telescope.  

(The exception, of course, was Eri.)

As he watched, Yagi was shoved several times, tripped, and had a water-manipulation quirk used to drop something that Aizawa suspected was toilet water on his head.  

Overall, the attitude towards people like us wasn’t quite what it was now, but to be parentless on top of that?  Many of the other children at the home thought there had to be something wrong with me.  There was a sigh.  Judging from what I’ve seen of your memories, I suspect you had the worse time of it.

I had Mom, though.

Aizawa found himself in a small bedroom.  Pinned to one of the walls was a corkboard.  Which looked distressingly like Todoroki’s.  Yagi crossed his arms as he contemplated it.

Once I had built up my confidence, one of the things I was trying to do was find out about a human trafficking ring.

Oh, yeah, those suck.  

… Why do I feel like you have personal experience in the subject.  

It wasn’t my fault.  

Soft, fond laughter filled the room before it was whisked away and replaced with a warehouse that just screamed ‘villain hideout.’

There was a fight.  

I tried my best, tried to be sneaky… I knew I wouldn’t win in a straight-out fight.  But…

Yagi was surrounded and clearly losing.  Then the doors burst open.  A figure floated, framed by the threshold, backlit by the streetlights.

First contact, whispered a voice like the wind.

Nana, said Midoriya.  

Nana, agreed All Might’s voice.  She saved me.  I… Didn’t want to get caught.  I ran. Went back to the muggings.  

And then?

And then—

Another change in scenery.  A sidewalk by a stream.  Yagi stood in his gakuran a few meters away from a woman in a hero costume.  The yellow gloves stood out.  

And then, a week later, she found me.

The woman’s head snapped in Aizawa’s direction, and he had just enough time to realize she could see him before the scene glitched out and he was falling through an empty sky.

#bnha #boku no hero academia #fic #my fic #long night in the valley