#so i packed my fucking bags and went into the mountains. LITERALLY. for almost two weeks.

[dilly-oh]

Laundry Day

    It had been building for weeks now. Piling up, bit by bit. Iruka ignored it for as long as he could, shoving it to the back of his mind and going about his daily business, teaching at the Academy and pulling shifts at the Mission Desk like nothing was wrong. But eventually, even he could deny it no longer. When he checked his closet and found that all he had to wear was a single ketchup-or-maybe-blood-stained crop-top, tight yoga shorts, and flip-flops, he knew it was finally time to stop putting it off. There was no other choice left. 

    He had to do laundry.

    “Oh my God, who did you kill?” Anko asked as he dragged the bulging laundry bag down the hallway of his apartment complex.

    “You, if you don't back off,” Iruka snapped at her. “There's just enough room in here for a body.”

    “I sincerely doubt that,” Anko said, cocking an eyebrow at the huge bag. “Seriously, what gives? That thing must be, like, a hundred pounds. Is this some kind of new training craze?”

    “It's laundry day,” Iruka stated. Anko blinked. “I haven't done laundry in two months,” he went on impatiently. “It's kind of hard to find the time between my job teaching, my job at the Mission Desk, and my other job keeping Naruto and Sasuke from killing or kissing each other in public, and since they all count as full-time jobs with none of the benefits, I literally have nothing else to wear.” 

    “Ah. That would explain the booty shorts.”

    “They're called yoga shorts, and they're comfortable.”

    “I don't care what they're called, your ass looks amazing in them.”

    “Stop ogling me!” Iruka barked, his cheeks flaming. Anko's eyes didn't move. “Am I gonna have to go have another talk with HR?” Anko paled.

    “Oh, God, please don't. Last time I had to watch a three-hour film on sexual harassment in the workplace. I had to take notes. There was a quiz after.” 

    “Then stop. STARING.” Iruka gave Anko one last glare, then continued on his way, dragging his laundry bag after him with all the dignity he could muster. Which wasn't alot, considering the bag was heavy as fuck and he'd kinda been neglecting his standard workout routine. Because, you know, three jobs or whatever. 

    There were quite a few laundromats scattered about Konoha, all stocked with specialized, heavy-duty cleaning supplies for shinobi needs (to aid in the removal of blood, guts, and other icky bits picked up from slaughtering enemies and whatnot). The one Iruka usually frequented was located about ten blocks away, which normally wasn't too bad, especially if Iruka went by rooftop. However, that was quite impossible at the moment, considering his giant bag of dirty clothes was hefty and ungainly enough that it would probably squirt right out of his arms and kill an unfortunate pedestrian below. Also, it was the middle of summer and the sun had decided to be an asshole that day, blazing down like some kind of fire Jutsu and scalding every living thing in sight. To make matters worse, the laundry bag seemed to grow heavier with every step until it was like dragging Hokage mountain down the street. So by the time Iruka finally managed to heave the bag halfway across Konoha and up a flight of stairs into the laundromat itself, he was a hot, sweaty mess, his ponytail half-undone and hanging in his face, damp clothing sticking to his skin. 

    Which was exactly why Hatake motherfucking Kakashi was in there, of fucking course. There was no way Iruka's silly little crush wouldn't be in the one place he'd hoped he wouldn't be. 

    Iruka wanted to crawl into the nearest drier and turn it on.

    Maybe he won't see me, he thought as he quietly slipped inside.

    “Hey, Iruka!” Kotetsu shouted from across the entire laundromat. “Nice shorts!” 

    Everyone immediately turned to look.

    Well I know who I'm going to kill now, Iruka thought to himself miserably as he was ogled by every shinobi in the room. He made a mental checklist and vowed to prank each one in retaliation. His body was a temple.

    “You know you could have just stuffed that in a scroll,” Genma said after peeling his gaze off Iruka's thighs, twitching his senbon at the bulging bag. 

    “I'll stuff you in a fucking scroll,” Iruka hissed at him, wiping a sweaty strand of hair out of his face.

    “Ooh, baby, talk dirty to me,” Genma cooed.

    “You're disgusting,” Iruka said flatly. He glanced around, looking for a table with any inch of free space, perfectly willing to fight someone for it. There, in the back, he spotted one last table...right next to Kakashi. Because, you know, this day couldn't get any worse. Iruka debated waiting an extra ten minutes or so to see if the laundromat emptied out a bit, saw Genma wiggle his eyebrows suggestively at him, and decided anything was better than this. Steeling himself with a deep breath, he dragged his bag over to the open table beside Kakashi and started dumping clothes out.

    Kakashi, thankfully, didn't respond to his sudden arrival except for a polite grunt and nod in greeting. Iruka nodded back, then focused for the next several minutes on organizing his dirty clothes, intent on ending this humiliation as quickly as possible. As he worked, he couldn't help but sneak glances at Kakashi while he sorted his lights and darks. The man was busy folding his own laundry, bent over the table, his movements precise and methodical, done with the utmost care. Iruka almost suspected he was using the Sharingan to achieve such perfect folds. He glanced down at the clothes themselves, expecting combat fatigues or maybe a pair of well-worn sweats. 

    Instead, he was surprised to discover Kakashi was folding almost two dozen miniature flak jackets with some kind of funny emblem on the back. 

    “Did...did you accidentally shrink that in the drier or something?” Iruka blurted out before he could stop himself. Kakashi looked over at him, blinking lazily, then chuckled, a husky sound that made Iruka's knees weak. 

    “Of course not,” he said, his voice warm with amusement. “This is my ninken's laundry.” 

    Iruka had to hold in a snort. The famed Copy-Nin of Konoha, scourge of all enemies, feared by missing-nin, doing his ninken's laundry? It was ridiculous! It was absurd! It was...

    Adorable, quite frankly. Iruka's heart melted a little at the sight of him carefully piling up their little vests, careful not to crease them.

    “It's a pain,” Kakashi went on. “They're so picky. I have to use unscented detergent and dryer sheets or they complain.”

    “Too bad they don't sell a fresh cat-shit scent,” Iruka chuckled awkwardly before biting his lip. 

    Kakashi, however, took no offense, throwing his head back and laughing aloud.

    “Ha! They'd like that! Maybe they have a three-day-old steak one, too.” He grinned at Iruka through his mask, one visible eye twinkling. Iruka flushed, and he quickly turned back to his laundry, realized he was holding a pair of underwear, and flung it away, his face flushing darker as he busied himself with sorting again. “You've got quite a load,” Kakashi went on after a moment, nodding at the mountainous pile in front of him.

    “Yeah, I've been putting it off for a while,” Iruka grumbled distractedly, searching for a stray sock's missing partner with no luck. “This is literally the last thing I have to wear, so I either do laundry today or go into work tomorrow naked.”

    “I knew I should have finished that mission report,” Kakashi said under his breath.

    “Very funny,” Iruka scoffed in annoyance, shoving his first few loads into the nearby washing machines.

    “Oh, I'm dead serious.”

    The annoyance turned to anger, and Iruka looked over at the other man to give him a piece of his mind, only to find him staring right back, his warm grin having grown into something much more inviting, bordering on flirtatious. Iruka's sharp comment died in his throat and he cleared it roughly, feeling hot all over. Awkwardly, he reached for change in his pockets, then froze. He looked down and swore. He didn't even fucking have pockets. Stupid booty- YOGA shorts. He'd forgotten the quarters, and he didn't dare leave his clothes unattended for fear someone like Genma would be a creep and steal a pair of underwear or something. Also, Izumo and Kotetsu had a habit of borrowing things and never returning them, and he could see them eyeing several of his favorite shirts from across the laundromat. He'd just have to pack everything up and return home. What a waste, the whole trip had been for nothing-

    The clink of coins snapped him out of his mental cursing, and he looked up in shock to see Kakashi paying for his loads. 

    “Oh no,” he sputtered, “please, Kakashi, you don't have to-”

    “It's fine. You can pay next time,” Kakashi said with a wave. 

    “But I...well...oh, alright, fine.” Iruka sighed, giving in. “Thank you.”

    “So it's a date then,” Kakashi said. “Which cycle do you prefer?” 

    “Cotton cycle, cold water, extra rinse, please,” Iruka said automatically, then blinked. “Wait, I'm sorry, did you say-” 

    “See you next week,” Kakashi was already halfway to the door, his ninken's clothes tucked under his arms and a pile of quarters left on Iruka's table for the rest of his loads. Iruka gaped after him in shock. 

    Had that...really just happened? Had he really exchanged pleasantries with one of the most infamous shinobi of Konoha while folding laundry? Or had it all been merely a dream, a figment of his imagination-

    “You washing those shorts, too?” Genma asked hopefully, leering like a hungry wolf.

    Nope, he was definitely awake. Iruka threw some Tide-pods at Genma to chase him away before turning back to his loads, shaking his head in wonder.

    He'd definitely be doing his laundry more often from now on.

(Written for @kakairu-fest KakaIru Month 2021, Day Ten Prompt: Laundry)

#kakairu #KakaIru Month 2021 #naruto #hatake kakashi #umino iruka #laundry #laundromats #but seriously how else does Kakashi clean them little vests #i want answers

[theydontknowaboutusimagines]

This  Christmas  - A Harry Styles Christmas Series (Part 11)

Two life long friends. Secretly in love. Home for the holidays. Will they risk everything by telling the other how they feel? Or will they spend another year loving from afar?

Read these first    Prologue   Part 1    Part 2   Part 3    Part 4   Part 5  Part 6 Part 7   Part 8   Part 9   Part 10   

** Harry poured you another cup of hot chocolate as you two searched around for places to go.

“I guess first we should decide if we want warm and tropical or cold and cozy,” he said.

“Hm… cold and cozy sounds nice,” you smiled. “But so does warm and tropical.”

“Okay… how about this… would you rather see me all bundled up or shirtless,” he joked.

“Let’s be honest, you’d end up shirtless either way. You have trouble keeping your clothes on,” you joked.

“You know you like that about me,” he smirked, knocking your shoulder with his.

You rolled your eyes, “How about we find a cabin in the mountains? We’ll be bringing in the New Year and I want us to be surrounded by snow and a fireplace. We wouldn’t get that somewhere warm.”

“Cold and cozy it is,” he smiled, kissing your cheek.

“We could go to the Alps?” You suggested.

“I’ll look into it,” he smiled.

You smiled, laying your head on his shoulder.

“So, you said you sent your book to your editor?” He asked. “What’s the next step now?”

“Well, my editor reads over it and suggests any changes I need to make it better. Or if I made any mistakes and what not, she calls me out on it,” you laughed. “And then I go back to writing and the process repeats itself until it’s finished. It’s supposed to come out in October of this next year, so we’ll see.”

“That sounds like a lot of work,” he said.

“Yep, that’s why I had to finish this draft so soon because the longer it takes me to write the first draft, the less time I have to do everything else… or I would have to postpone the release date,” you told him.

“And you do this with every book?” He asked.

“Pretty much,” you laughed.

“And you enjoy it?” He laughed.

“I mean don’t get me wrong. There are plenty of times where I get frustrated or annoyed, but at the end… seeing my book on the shelves of bookstores I went to as a kid or seeing a reader holding my book and telling me how much they love it. It’s worth everything in the end,” you whispered.

He smiled holding you closer to him, “I’m really proud of you.”

“Thank you,” you smiled. “And I’m really proud of you, too. I always have been and I’m sorry I wasn’t always there to tell you.”

“Hey, we said we weren’t going to focus on the past anymore, remember?” He said.

“Last time, I promise,” you giggled.

“Good,” he smiled, pressing his lips against yours.

You smiled against his lips, wrapping your arm around his neck, your fingers going straight into his hair. He pulled you over onto his lap causing you to wrap your legs around his waist. You deepened the kiss while he ran his hands along your back. After a few minutes, you reluctantly pulled away, pressing your forehead against his, both of you gasping for breath obviously kissing way longer than your lungs could handle.  

“How about one more Christmas present?” You whispered.

“What? No, you’ve given me enough,” he laughed.

You rolled your eyes, “This one is for the both of us.”

He looked at you completely confused.

“Am I really going to have to say it out loud because you don’t know where I’m going with this?” You laughed.

“Um… yeah,” he laughed.

You rolled your eyes before reaching down, grabbing the bottom of your shirt, and pulling it above your head, leaving you in nothing but a bra and jeans. “Get it now?” You smirked.

His eyes widened at first, but he quickly composed himself, “Um… wow… uh are you sure?” He asked.

You sighed, taking his hands in yours and lacing your fingers together, “I know you’re trying to be a gentleman and you’re making sure I’m not feeling pressured or anything. But I want you. I’ve wanted you for so fucking love and I’m tired of waiting. I want you to touch-”

You don’t even get to finish your speech before he pressed his lips against yours with so much force you almost fell backward. He tightened his grip on your hips, pressing your closer to him. You tugged on his sweater, begging to feel his skin against yours. He removed his lips from yours long enough to pull the sweater over his head, discarding it on the floor with yours.

Your hands quickly found their way to his chest and shoulders while his lips attached themselves to your neck. You tilted your head to the side as he pressed gentle kisses down your neck and shoulder, pushing the strap of your bra out of the way. He placed his fingers at the clasp of your bra fumbling around trying to get it off.

“For fuck’s sake what is wrong with this thing,” he mumbled.

You giggled turning your back to him so he could unclip it that way. As soon as it was, you felt the fabric fall from your body, which you happily discarded to the floor. Chills were sent down your body when you felt his lips against your back. His hands were around your stomach as you leaned against him. You reached your arm up around his neck, bringing his lips down to meet yours. He smiled into the kiss running his thumb across your belly.

The next few moments were all a blur as the two of you took off the clothes that remained before falling onto the bed.

“I love you,” he whispered, gazing into your eyes.

“I love you, too,” you smiled.

**

The morning after you woke up feeling a little disoriented. You felt itchy and you realized it was because you were wearing Harry’s sweater from last night and literally nothing else. The rest of your and Harry’s clothing covered the floor along with the ripped wrapping paper. The room was still lit up by the glow of the Christmas lights. You smiled remembering everything from the night before and it was everything you could have ever hoped for.

You looked over a Harry, who was staring over at you, “Hi,” you smiled.

“Hi,” he smiled, kissing your hand.

“Sleep okay?” You asked.

“Wonderful,” he smirked, wrapping his arms around your waist and bringing you closer to him.

“And… everything else… was okay?” You blushed.

“I believe one might describe it as mind blowing, Happy Christmas, I love you sex,” he smirked.

You giggled, rolling over on top of him, “Care for a repeat? Before I have to leave?”

“You gonna keep the sweater on?” he smirked, his hands at your hips.

“Why? Does it turn you on?” you joked.

“Only because it’s mine,” he smirked. “And you’re mine… and I’m yours.”

“If you’re going to keep quoting my own books, I’m not going to let you read them anymore,” you laughed.

“Hey, I’m just making the fantasy a reality, baby,” he smirked.

“Well, the real thing is better than the fantasy,” you smiled.

After a shorter repeat of last night, you two finally got out of bed, while you started packing up your things and Harry cleaned up the mess from last night.

“I don’t want you to go,” he pouted, wrapping his arms around you.

“I’m just going a few blocks over and I’ll see you tomorrow,” you giggled.

“I know, but I got used to seeing you here,” he said.

“Me too,” you smiled. “But you’re going to be with your family and I’ll be with mine.”

He sighed dramatically, “Fine I guess I’ll let you go.”

You giggled giving him a quick peck before unwrapping yourself from his arms.

“I’m going to go say bye to your Mum and Gem,” you said.

He nodded, “I’m gonna finish cleaning up out here.”

“Thank you again for this,” you smiled. “I loved it.”

“I’m glad,” he smiled.

“Call you later?” You asked.

“You better,” he said.

Harry sighed as you left. He knew why you were leaving, but it still didn’t make it feel like a part of him was gone too. He was definitely being over dramatic and needy, but in that moment he didn’t care. Once he was finished cleaning everything up in the guest house, he saw an unopened box on the floor.

It was the gift Gemma had given him to give to Y/N.

“Shit,” he mumbled. “Guess I’ll just have to give it to her tomorrow.”

He put the box in the bag with his gifts you had given him and held it in on hand while he carried the bag of trash with the other and headed inside.

**

You were now at your parent’s house and it felt just like when you were little. You helped your mother in the kitchen making desserts, listening to Christmas music, while sipping on homemade boozy hot chocolate. When you were finished with that, you would change into your new Christmas pj’s and watch Love Actually together.

“I’m really happy you were able to come home,” she smiled.

“Me too,” you smiled. “I’m sorry I didn’t spend as much time…”

“It’s okay. You were working,” she smiled. “Besides, I’m happy you and Harry finally came to your senses.”

“Yeah, me too,” you giggled. “You know we’re both stubborn.”

“Don’t I know that,”she laughed.

“Oh, before I forget… he’s taking us on a holiday next week,” you smiled.

“Ooohh, romantic,” she smiled. “You seem really happy, honey.”

“Because I am,” you smiled. “It’s been a really long time since I’ve felt like this and if I’m being honest, the last time I felt truly happy was when Harry and I were still friends. During our years apart or whatever, I always felt like I was missing a part of me.”

“And now it’s back,” your mother smiled.

“Yeah, it is,” you nodded.

**

It was later that night and your parents were headed to bed. You weren’t ready for bed just yet, so you went up to your room and opened a Christmas romance book you’ve been wanting to read. Wrapped up in your favorite blanket, you read under the glow of the Christmas lights strung up inside of your room.

You were about halfway through the book when you heard a tapping at your window. At first, you thought nothing of it, but it kept happening. There wasn’t a tree near your window, so you knew it wasn’t the wind. You closed your book, placing your bookmark down to keep your page, before heading over to the window. You moved the curtain aside, seeing Harry’s smiling face staring back at you.

You unlocked the window, opening it up, “What in the bloody hell are you doing? It’s almost midnight,” you laughed.

“I wanted to be the first person to spend Christmas with you,” he smiled. “Sooo… are you going to let me in.”

You laughed moving out of the way so he could climb inside.

“I swear that used to be a lot easier,” he joked, pushing his hair out of his face.

“Well, you are old now, soooo,” you smirked.

“We’re only a few months apart, so if I’m old you’re old too, darling,” he smirked back at you.

“Touche,” you giggled. “Can I just say I’m a little disappointed you didn’t dress up as Santa. I mean with the whole sneaking into people’s houses on Christmas Eve.”

“My suit’s still at the cleaners,” he joked.

You giggled before putting your hand over your mouth, “We should probably be quieter. That’s all we need is my parent’s to wake up and find a boy in my room.”

“I think I can help with that,” he said before pressing his lips against yours.

Your arms went around his neck while his hands stayed at your hips.

“I’m really loving these pajamas,” he said.

“Hm, should I pack them for our trip?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, about that… I’m highly considering making our cabin a no clothes zone,” he smirked.

“Oh really?” You asked.

“What do you say?” He asked, pulling you closer to him.

“How about… why don’t we get started with that right now?” you smirked, unbuttoning your pajama top.

“Don’t mind if we do,” he said, picking you up and carrying you over to your bed.

About an hour later, you both laid in your bed with his arms around you as you laid on his chest.

“It’s after midnight,” you smiled, glancing over at your clock. “That means it’s officially Christmas.”

“And what a hell of a way to celebrate,” he joked. “I think we should make this tradition.”

You giggled, looking up at him, “Merry Christmas,” you whispered.

“Merry Christmas,” he smiled.

You gave him a quick peck on his lips before you two laid there for a little bit longer until Harry had to head back to his mom’s house.

**

AH! Only one more Part! I’m going to try my best to get it posted early tomorrow… but it may be later… or maybe Saturday. Depends on my time management and I don’t want to rush through the final part!

Also, don’t forget to let me know if you want a shorter companion fic of their holiday together!

#Harry Styles Imagines #Harry Styles Fics #Harry Styles Fan fics #Harry Styles Fanfics #Harry Styles Fanfictions #Harry Styles Fanfiction #Harry Styles Christmas Series

[afni-fics]

Elder Scrolls DC - A Reluctant Dragonborn: Chapter 34: Hot Springs

Elder Scrolls DC - A Reluctant Dragonborn: Chapter 34: Hot Springs by C_R_Scott Fandom: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Red Robin (Comics), DCU (Comics), Batman (Comics) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Characters: Tim Drake, Lucien Flavius, Kaidan (Elder Scrolls) Additional Tags: Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Skyrim/DCU crossover, Reluctant Dovahkiin | Dragonborn, Not Beta Read, Alternate Universe - Skyrim Fusion, Modded Skyrim, Skyrim Spoilers, Tim Drake is Dragonborn | Dovahkiin, Tim Drake-centric, Trope: It sucks to be the chosen one, Trope: Trapped in another world, Trope: Kidnapped by the Call

Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter

Summary:

Along the way to Ivarstead, the trio happen upon a set of hot springs...

Despite how rocky things started off that morning, as Tim and his companions continued along the road leading towards Ivarstead, things mellowed out somewhat. 

The most obvious quality of life improvement with Kaidan now travelling with them was that weaker threats like skeevers, small wolves, and the occasional small group of bandits that would've tried to take a chunk out of him or Lucien previously were content to keep their distance. Dressed in heavy steel armor with that giant sword longer than most men strapped to his back, Tim was honestly glad for the obvious visual threat deterrence Kaidan provided. After his argument with Lucien, and after spending half the night rescuing their new friend from the Thalmor, Tim was not in a mood to finish any fights started by the wildlife or wandering criminal population of Skyrim. 

While Lucien focused on conversing with Kaidan for most of the morning, Tim enjoyed the newfound peace and quiet of this leg of the journey and having a few hours to observe his surroundings alone with his own thoughts. The further they went, the more mountainous and wooded the terrain became, and the more enamored he became with his surroundings

The young man took note of the types of trees and plants that grew in abundance around him. Idly he wondered which were useful, potentially edible plants and which were toxic. He also made it a point to be mindful of movements of the animals that wandered amongst the trees. If he was going to have to survive out here, he needed to learn know how to identify, at a glance, the harmless creatures from the more dangerous ones that would immediately see him and his companions as a quick meal. 

"I should buy another journal, just for field notes, and pencils for sketching," Tim thought to himself. "I wish cameras were a thing here." There was so much... too much... to see and learn.

    "Word is, the waters here are good for you." 

The sun was starting to get affectionate with the horizon and Tim glanced backward to notice that Kaidan had paused to look at something just off the cobblestone path. He followed the swordsman's gaze to an interesting looking location on the other side of the river they'd been following towards their destination.

"What is that?" he asked

"Hot springs," Kaidan explained as he went to a better ledge overlooking the river and the pools beyond. "I've passed by every now and again over the years, but never indulged myself. The locals believe the water has healin' properties, and somehow they stay warm all year round."

"We have to camp here tonight!"

Kaidan and Lucien both looked at Tim curiously, who was staring at the hot springs with an expression of obvious longing.

"We 'have' to?" Lucien asked.

Tim whipped his head to his two travelling companions. "Yes! We 'have' to!" he insisted. Then, without even waiting for the other two to agree or disagree, Tim started making is way off the beaten path towards an obvious set of large stones that could easily serve as a makeshift bridge to across the river. After sharing a confused glance and a shrug of shoulders, Kaidan and Lucien both followed after him.

It didn't take Tim long to reach the outer edges of the hot springs ahead of his companions. The air was unfamiliarly warm and humid and there was a distinct medicinal aroma in the air. Tim took it all in with relish. As he got to the waters' edge, he tugged off one of his gloves and tested the temperature of both the sands on the shoreline as well as the water with his hand. He didn't even bother trying to mask the murmur of approval that escaped his lips.

"Are you seriously considering indulging in these springs, Timothy?"

Tim nodded at Lucien as he rose to his feet and tugged his glove back on. "I am not passing up this opportunity," he said as he glanced at the clearing just a dozen or so yards away from the water's edge. There was more than enough room to comfortably set up camp, and Tim was quick to set down his pack and pull out the things needed to set up their tent. 

"Opportunity?" Kaidan echoed with with confusion, which was rewarded with an exasperated grumble.

"It has been literal weeks since I've been able to take a decent bath since I woke up in Skyrim," Tim told Kaidan as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Not to mention it's cold all the damned time out here, especially at night! Every day the choice is either be clean and flirting with frostbite or stay decently warm but filthy." He glanced at Lucien, who was observing him with a fair amount of growing amusement.

"I think you're exaggerating a bit regarding how cold it is out here," the scholar chuckled.

"I probably am, but I don't care," Tim said matter-of-factly as he started setting up the tent as quickly and efficiently as he could. "You want me to not look for trouble tonight? Then this is your best chance for it, because short of a fucking dragon attack I am not squandering the chance for a hot bath and a decent night's sleep in a place that's actually radiating warmth instead of sucking it out of me."

While Kaidan regarded Tim with a fair amount of undisguised concern before borrowing an axe to collect firewood, Lucien just continued to snicker under his breath as he pulled out the cooking gear and ingredients from his own bag. It was his turn to cook, after all.

   "I am never taking hot baths for granted ever again," Tim thought to himself with a content sigh once he finally sank chest deep into the springs after finding a spot where there was a natural stone ledge next to the water's edge that allowed him to lounge comfortably while submerged. After camp had been set up, the sun had set, and Lucien had just started cooking, Tim was adamant about enjoying the springs as early and as long as he possibly could. After assuring Lucien and Kaidan he'd only be a few yards away, Tim made his way to the nearest deep pool he could find, stripped off his gear and clothing, and stepped into the deliciously hot waters.  After taking several minutes to actually clean his skin and hair, the young man finally settled into a mostly tranquil state as he stared up at the starry night sky with its twin moons. It was so warm and peaceful out there. One could almost forget that Skyrim was a wild mostly-untamed land full of a wide variety of things that wanted him dead.

Almost...

The subtle sound of something skulking in the shadows of some nearby trees behind him caught his ear. Without moving his head, Tim's eyes glanced towards the trees and recognized the outline of a man among the evergreens. Casually, Tim moved from where he was sitting and made his way back to the shore where his clothes were folded. He rummaged through his bag and pulled out a length of linen cloth he was planning on using as a towel. 

A feint. 

From beneath the cover of the linen cloth, Tim slipped several throwing stars into his hand. Then, as quickly as he could, he threw the stars at the evergreens right where the shadows looked most man-shaped. They whistled through the air and embedded themselves in the trunks of the trees with solid "THUNKS".

"What the fu--?!" the man in the darkness shouted as he quickly stumbled away from where the wickedly sharp metal stars had nearly clipped him. Unfortunately for that poor soul, the stars themselves had been another feint. 

While the stranger was distracted, Tim had wrapped the linen cloth around his waist and recovered his metal quarterstaff. On the silence of bare feet and without the weight of his own armor slowing him down, the vigilante rushed his distracted stalker and struck him with a headshot and a couple of body blows from his staff before finally taking him completely off his feet, where he crashed to the sandy shore with a clatter of metal.

Wait... Metal?

"What in the world is going on?" Lucien called out as he rushed to where Tim stood with a lantern in hand. As soon as the light was close enough to chase the shadows away, it was clear who Tim's unfortunate victim was.

"Kaidan?!"

Their new swordsman, flat on his back on the sand, groaned as he brought a hand up to his head. "What the Oblivion was that?"

Tim relaxed his defensive stance. "Were you... spying on me?!"

"Guardin'," Kaidan muttered as he gingerly eased himself up into a seated position. "Least, that was the plan. To keep watch your back while you were... vulnerable." He glanced at Lucien. "I thought you said he was bad at self-preservation?"

"I did, but I meant that in the way that he frequently throws himself into dangerous situations without any concern for his own health and wellbeing." Lucien shook his head, set down the lantern, and cast a quick healing spell over their swordsman. "When it comes to actual combat, Timothy's really quite skilled."

Tim leaned against his staff as he watched Lucien finish his healing. "Y'know Kaidan, you could've just told me you were worried about my safety before I went into the water."

"You wanted to bathe. I figured you'd tell me to sod off for privacy."

"I would've said, 'Do what you want. I don't give a fuck.' I can watch my own back just fine though." After taking a moment to retrieve his throwing stars from the nearby tree, Tim turned back to the pool. "Now if you guys don't mind, I'm going back to finish my bath."

Now that Kaidan was upright and he could see Tim more clearly in the lantern light, the swordsman took a moment to get a good look at the lines of the young man's body that had previously been hidden beneath layers of leather armor. Though he'd originally assumed he was a noble or scholar based on how Tim spoke and carried himself, as well as how he interacted with Lucien, Tim's body told a different story. His muscles were lean and well defined, looking like they'd been built over years of training for speed and finesse, rather than raw power and brute strength. His pale skin was also a map of scars scattered across both his torso and his limbs.

As Tim walked off, Kaidan noticed something that made his breath catch in his throat. It was the sight of Tim's burn scars consuming nearly the entirety of the young man's back and part of his left upper arm.

--- NOTE:

Indulging in little slices of life as Tim, Luci, and Kai travel towards Ivarstead. I'd forgotten initially during the playthrough that the hot springs were along one of the main paths to Ivarstead, so when Kaidan commented on it in-game I couldn't resist the pit stop.

It's been in the back of my mind that Tim has been missing a lot of modern conveniences since waking up in Skyrim. Motorized vehicles, computers, and cell phones/communication devices have been obvious ones. However, it occurred to me that things like regular access to hot baths would also be sorely missed too, especially in a region as cold as Skyrim, especially when you're spending days to weeks on end out on the road or in the wilderness.

#elder scrolls dc#fanfiction#tim drake#skyrim fanfiction#red robin#batfam#crossover#lucien flavius#wip#kaidan skyrim#afewnovelideas

#elder scrolls dc #fanfiction #tim drake #skyrim fanfiction #red robin #batfam #crossover #lucien flavius #kaidan skyrim #wip #afewnovelideas

[gaygent37]

Calling the Wolf Within - JayDick

I had a lot of hope going into this. I got 4k words in, and just lost interest, so here you go. As per usual, no porn :/ because it would’ve taken another few thousand words to get to that actual porn, and a few thousand to wrap it up afterwards, and that was too long for me. So I scrapped it and wrote the other werewolf fic instead. Also it just started getting strange.

5,021 words, JayDick, werewolf Jason, human Dick, human Tim, almost kidnapping, almost Stockholm Syndrome, almost mating calls, almost explained why ‘almost’ towards end, fluff, borderline crack at time, h/c, no idea why Tim is there, OOC Tim, it’s a mess

For the past week and a half, Dick would hear shuffling in the woods behind his cottage. The first couple of times, he took it as a family of rabbits or raccoons looking for a place to live, but when the heard a tree crack and fall, Dick knew it was something much bigger.

His neighbors said it could be a bear or perhaps a mountain lion that had come down from the mountains. So Dick called the local ranger to take a gander.

“I dunno what to tell ya, kid,” the ranger said, shaking his head at the tree and the large muddy footprints that appeared last night. “Ya see these tracks?” he asked, pointing to the paws in the mud. “I grew up in Wyoming, so I’ seen my share o’ wolf tracks. And if I were to guess, I’d say it’s one hellava wolf ya’ve got there.”

“W-Wolf?” Dick asked faintly. “But Mr. and Mrs. Hanks said there are no wolves in this area.”

The ranger nodded and tipped his hat. “There ain’t.”

Dick nodded slowly, like the ranger was making complete sense. “Okay, so there’s a huge wolf coming around the woods and making a mess near my house every night. What do you propose I do?”

“Wolf of this size?” he chuckled humorlessly, nodding at the tracks. “Ain’t no shotgun in the world that could make a dent in this thing, so I’d move the hell out. Well, that or call in the military. This is way outta my jurisdiction.”

“But you’re supposed to deal with these kinds of things in this area!” Dick said in frustration. “You can’t expect everyone to just move out when there’s a problem to can’t handle! Think of something!”

The ranger stood and scratched his head. “Well, I gotta friend a state over who specializes in catching these kinda beasts. He might have an extra-large bear trap or two?”

“Yes!” Dick said in relief. “Please call him.”

“You got it, kid.” The ranger stepped away for a few minutes to call his friend.

Dick shoved his hands into his pocket with a sigh, looking around the forest. He could see his cottage no more than thirty paces from the fallen tree and the tracks. There were also snapped branches and a dried bloody trail leading to a chicken carcass, more signs of the large animal that had popped up throughout the past week.

Dick shivered slightly and glanced over at the ranger, who was laughing into his phone. Suddenly, he shivered, a chill running over him. Dick glanced around again, but nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary in the sunny forest.

“Good news!” the ranger said, jogging back over. “My friend said he could come with a couple of his huntin’ buddies! Bad news, they can’t come until the weekend.”

“The weekend?” Dick asked. “That’s- That’s not for another four days.”

The ranger gave him a shrug.

Dick took a deep breath. “Okay. I- I guess I’ll just pack some stuff and go stay at the town inn until then. I don’t want to be up here alone when there’s that giant… whatever it is, running around.”

The ranger smiled. “That’s the spirit, kid! Want me to give you a ride into town?”

“Nah,” Dick said. “I need to do some packing first. I’ll head over first thing tomorrow morning.”

Dick awoke to the sound of his downstairs window breaking. Immediately, his hand went to his phone, which was charging on the bedside table. There were several more crashes and the banging of pots clashing, the sound of something very large moving through Dick’s tiny kitchen.

Dick slid off his bed and rolled under it in one smooth moment. He dialed 911 immediately and pressed the phone to his ear, his breathing erratic and loud. His eyes were pinned to his bedroom door, which was cracked open slightly.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“Someone broke into my house,” Dick whispered.

“Okay, and where are they now?”

“In my house,” Dick repeated, barely daring to speak.

“And where are you, sir?”

“I’m- I’m hiding, under my bed. Can you- Can you please send a squad? With guns.” Dick tensed even more when he heard the bottom stair creak, louder than it has ever creaked before. “Please.”

“Is there only one person?” There was another creak. The second step. Then a third.

“I don’t know!” Dick hissed. “They’re- They’re making a lot of noise, and they’re coming up the stairs!”

“Okay, stay calm, sir. I’m going to-” Suddenly, there was loud thump, right outside his bedroom door. Whatever it was, had jumped eight entire steps up to the second floor. Dick shoved his phone underneath him and pressed his hand tightly to his mouth, not even daring to breathe.

His bedroom door was nosed open. Literally nosed open. The first thing that appeared was a huge snout. The nose twitched a couple of times before the rest of the beast entered the room as well.

Dick’s eyes grew wider, and he felt like his heart was going to pound out of his chest in fear. He could only see the huge paws of the creature, but it took up all the space in Dick’s room. Its tail knocked over Dick’s lamp, and the glass of watch he always set by his bed.

A soft growl filled the air and the creature shifted, stretching down so that its head was pressed against the ground. Golden eyes met his, and Dick let out the tiniest of squeaks.

The last thing Dick heard when he fainted was the emotionless calls of “Sir? Sir? Are you still there? Please stay on the line. We’re sending someone over right now.”

“…look! You scratched up his face!” There was a growl and a snapping of teeth. “Damn, that’s gotta hurt… Oh, wait, I think he’s waking up!”

Dick blinked his eyes open slowly, feeling dizzy and disoriented. The first thing he saw was the smiling face of a young teenager.

“Hullo,” the boy said. “You alright?”

“Where the hell… am I?” Dick asked, looking around. Everywhere he looked, he just saw jagged stone.

The boy gave a light laugh. “I couldn’t tell you,” he said. “Some cave in the middle of nowhere, probably.”

There was a snuffle and a growl from somewhere behind the boy.

Dick craned his neck and peered behind him. His eyes widened, and he tensed. The largest wolf Dick had ever seen was curled up lazily against the opposite wall, its head resting in its paws, and it was staring at Dick.

“Oh my god,” Dick said hoarsely. “I’m having a nightmare.”

“That’s what I thought too, at first,” the boy said, strangely cheerfully. “But you’ll get used to it.”

“What?” Dick asked, staring at the teen like he was crazy.

“Oh, I should introduce myself,” the boy said. He held out his hand. “I’m Tim.”

Dick stared at Tim’s hand for the longest time. He looked over at the wolf again. Then, he took Tim’s hand. “Dick… my name’s Dick,” he said very slowly, unsure of what was going on.

“So, where are you from, Dick?” Tim asked.

“Um… Brighton Springs… in Pennsylvania,” Dick said.

“Never heard of it,” Tim said.

“It’s a small town,” Dick said absently. “Wha- What about you? What are you doing here?” He kept a cautious eye on the wolf.

“Los Angeles,” Tim said.

“California?”

“Yup,” Tim said. “My parents were in Pittsburg for business, and I tagged along. Didn’t know I’d be kidnapped by a giant wolf though.” Tim laughed.

“Wait, you were- you were taken by- by that too?”

Tim nodded.

“And- And you’re not freaked out by it?!” Dick exclaimed.

“I was,” Tim said. “I’ve been here two weeks though, so I’ve had time to get used to it. Besides, Wolfie isn’t bad at all.”

“Wolfie.”

Tim grinned. “Yeah. I couldn’t keep calling him ‘it’ or ‘the wolf’. And I don’t think he really minds anyway. Isn’t that right, Wolfie?”

Wolfie yawned and flicked his tail.

“Oh my god, I’m stuck in a cave with a giant wolf and a crazy kid,” Dick muttered. “What the ever-loving fuck.”

“Hey, I’m not a kid,” Tim said. “I’m seventeen.”

“Seven- You look no older than thirteen!”

Tim gave him an annoyed look. “Right, and I guess you’d assume I also attend high school and nerd out over video games with my friends at lunch.”

Dick blinked at him. “…Do you not?”

Tim threw his hands in the air. “Oh my god, the people of this world! I’ll have you know that I’m in my sophomore year of college! At Cal Tech!”

Dick squinted at him. “And you still named the wolf… Wolfie?”

Tim huffed. “I- Okay, fine, it’s a stupid name! My parents never let me have a dog because my mom’s allergic, and I’ve always wanted one, and I wanted to name it Doggie, so sue me if I’m living my childhood dream a bit!”

“That’s not a dog, Tim. That thing can eat you up in one bite!” Dick said.

“But he hasn’t!” Tim shouted.

“Doesn’t mean he won’t!”

“Holy shit, Wolfie, you’ve picked up the most annoying person ever!” Tim yelled. “You get him out of here, or I’m leaving!”

“You know what? I don’t want to be here anyway!” Dick fumed back. He stood up and shoved Tim out of the way and started storming towards the exit.

In a flash, Wolfie was on his feet and in front of Dick in a threatening stance, lips pulled back in a growl. He snapped his teeth at Dick.

“Wha- What’s he doing?” Dick said, taking a step back. Wolfie took step forward.

Dick stepped back again. Wolfie continued to follow, growling and snapping his teeth. “Tim, call him off!”

“He doesn’t listen to me,” Tim grumbled. “Besides, you yelled at me, so I don’t think I’m going to help you.”

Tim sat down, crossed his legs, and produced a bag of chips from somewhere. He popped it open and started eating, watching as Dick was slowly being cornered against the cave wall.

“S-Seriously, I- I think he’s going to eat me!” Dick whimpered, his back pressed tightly against the cold stone.

Wolfie opened his mouth wide, and Dick screamed, his knees giving out as he curled up in a ball, waiting for the inevitable.

Suddenly, there was a heavy floomph of air and fur tickled Dick’s nose. He waited a few more seconds before opening his eyes.

He was still curled up against the wall, but now, Wolfie was sprawled in front of him, on his back, giant legs up in the air.

“What’s- What’s he doing?” Dick asked, pulling himself in tighter.

“Making sure you don’t try running away again,” Tim said, licking his fingers. “And asking for belly rubs. He likes the spot under his chin the best.”

“Huh?!”

“Rub his belly,” Tim said.

Dick stared at Tim like the boy was crazy. But Tim did not seem like he was kidding, and the way Wolfie was lying, it really did seem like a dog waiting for belly rubs.

Wolfie turned his head towards Dick, his golden eyes wide. And holy shit, he looked sad.

“Stop- Stop that,” Dick said weakly. “I thought you were going to eat me.”

Wolfie let out a whine and wiggled even closer.

Dick stared at him for a couple more seconds before giving in to the puppy-dog eyes. He placed his trembling hand on Wolfie’s stomach, pushing down several inches of fur, which were surprising soft.

Very tentatively, Dick moved his hand back and forth. Wolfie gave a rumble of pleasure.

“Oh my god, he likes it,” Dick said in a near-hysterical voice.

“Told you,” Tim said smugly, opening his second bag of chips. “Get the spot under his chin.”

Dick looked over at Wolfie’s head, which was arched back in response. “Er, how? I’m stuck here.”

“Climb on top of him,” Tim said. “And use both hands.”

Dick was not keen on the idea of climbing onto Wolfie’s stomach, but after another brief stare down with the sad golden eyes, Dick uncurled himself and slowly put one leg over Wolfie’s stomach, straddling him.

Then, Dick slowly pulled himself up until his legs were behind Wolfie’s front legs, and he could comfortably reach over and scratch under Wolfie’s chin.

Dick took a deep breath and reached forward. Suddenly, he was slammed down flat against Wolfie’s chest, his face pressed into the soft fur. He could feel Wolfie’s giant legs wrapped around him.

“Aww, he wants a hug,” Tim laughed. “Lucky you, Dick. I’ve never gotten a hug before.”

Dick struggled, trying to put himself up, but Wolfie’s hold was strong. Eventually, Dick gave up when Wolfie did not seem to move. So Dick just lay there, half-scared, half-confused, with his ear pressed to Wolfie’s heartbeat.

The steady ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump, eventually lulled him off to sleep.

It took a bit of getting used to, but like Tim said, he got used to it. Mostly.

Four days into his capture, Dick awoke to his face being gently licked by a soft tongue. “No…” he groaned, pushing away Wolfie’s snout.

Wolfie snuffled and licked Dick again, this time, getting under his neck.

“That tickles,” Dick grimaced, his eyes still stubbornly screwed shut. “Go wake Tim first.”

“I’m already awake, dummy. You need to get up and make us food. I can’t cook for shit.”

Dick groaned and rolled over, pulling the blankets over his head, burrowing deeper into his bed. His “bed” consisted of large scraps of very soft material and larger, thicker scraps for blankets.

Wolfie hooked a paw around Dick’s waist and turned him over like it was nothing. Dick whined, but he eventually sat up and got breakfast going.

Dick had no idea where all the household items or any of the food was coming from. They just appeared out of nowhere, when neither Dick nor Tim was paying attention. The perishables were still cold.

“Bacon! Bacon! Bacon!” Tim chanted.

“Okay, okay,” Dick said with a laugh as Wolfie nudged him all the way to the fire pit.

Breakfast did not take long to cook up – as much bacon as either of them could take, and a large helping of eggs. Wolfie had the habit of nipping at the their fingers for bacon scraps, which would have terrified Dick before, but now, he found it endearing.

It was strange how quickly his mindset changed in four days.

“Hey,” Dick said after swallowing the last of his eggs. “You’ve been here for nearly three weeks now, right? Did you ever take a shower?”

Tim gasped, his eyes lighting up. “Can we go to the swimming hole?” he practically squealed.

“Swimming hole?” Dick asked, glancing at Wolfie, who usually curled around the two of them during breakfast.

“Yeah! There’s this huge swimming hole by here. A waterfall and everything!” Tim said excitedly. “I’ve been there a few times so far, to wash and then swim.”

“That… That sounds perfect,” Dick said. It also sounded like a way to scout his surroundings and gauge where the hell he was.

Not long after breakfast, Dick found himself standing in front of a large pool of water that very gradually became deeper, deepest at the waterfall.

“Wow,” Dick said.

“I know,” Tim said, already splashing into the water. “It’s fucking cold though!” He ran out of the water again, laughing.

“Get in here!” Dick said, splashing water at Tim.

“Hey!” Tim ran back in, sending a wave of water crashing into Dick.

Dick dunked himself under the water before coming up. “Hah! You missed.”

Wolfie lay down at the edge, content in just watching. At some point, he fell asleep. That was when Dick grabbed Tim and pulled him in.

“I’m gonna go climb the waterfall,” he whispered.

“Wh-What?” Tim asked, confused. “Why?”

“Duh, to see what’s up there. To see how far away we are from anything. Maybe I can signal help or something,” Dick said.

Tim looked completely baffled. “Are you crazy?” he asked.

Dick’s expression darkened. “What, you think we can actually stay here with that wolf forever?”

“Well, I-”

“Grow up, Tim, this isn’t some fantasy world. He kidnapped us. I’m going to climb that waterfall. And you’re going to distract him if he wakes up.”

With that, Dick dunked himself under the water and started swimming towards the base of the waterfall. Up close, the roar of the water was louder, but it was not a particularly large waterfall, only about twelve feet up. The rocks that made the wall were at a convenient slant. The only issue was that they were mossy and slick.

Dick pulled himself up onto the first rock, shivering as the air hit his wet body. Still, he continued climbing. A couple of times, his foot slipped, but he was nearly to the top.

Suddenly, he heard Tim yell, “Wolfie, no!”

Dick turned around and saw Wolfie leap from the shore into the water, completely clearing Tim’s head. Dick gritted his teeth and climbed a little faster.

Just as he was about to reach the top, Dick looked back down and saw Wolfie at the base of the waterfall. His front legs were on the bottom rock, but he made no attempt to climb. He just watched Dick with those sad golden eyes.

Dick had to turn away. Finally, with quite some effort, Dick made it to the top of the waterfall. He was very disappointed to find just more forest all around him. For a second, he considered running away, but he thought about Tim – the city boy who could not cook, ate nothing but chips, and was an all-around mess of a human being – and he could not bear to.

With a sigh, Dick turned around again, standing at the top of the waterfall, looking down at Tim. He gave the boy a little wave. Wolfie gave a whimper and a howl, patting the rock he was hanging onto. Dick understood that Wolfie wanted him to climb back down.

Dick gave a tiny smile and shook his head. “Watch this!” he called. He back up a few steps, took a running start, and leapt off the edge.

He did a total of two flips before hitting the water perfectly. It was quite exhilarating. Dick did not get a chance to enjoy the moment because he was suddenly being propelled toward the surface, his body being pushed by the nose of an extra-large canine.

Dick laughed as he broke the surface, allowing Wolfie to swim him back to the shore.

“Dick!” Tim said, splashing over. “Are you okay? I thought you were going to break your neck doing that!”

“I was on the dive team in high school, Timbo,” Dick said, sitting up. “I’m fine.”

“Well, I didn’t know that! It was scary, but also kind of cool.”

Wolfie obviously did not agree. He nudged Dick further onto the shore with rough flicks of his nose. When Dick was a good distance from the water, Wolfie started sniffing and licking him all over.

“W-Wolfie! That’s- That’s completely unnecessary,” Dick said. “I’m fine!”

Wolfie ignored him and continued with his sniffing and licking, occasionally letting whines from his throat. Finally, Dick succumbed to the mother hen treatment, just lying there and allowing Wolfie to turn him this way and that, checking for the tiniest of scratches.

When Wolfie was at last satisfied, he let his head drop down by Dick’s body, his eyes boring into Dick’s, sad and vulnerable.

“Look, you made upset him,” Tim chided. “He thought you were going to get hurt.”

Dick sighed and gave Wolfie a wry smile. “Sorry about that,” he said, patting Wolfie’s head. “I’ll tell you next time.”

Wolfie moved his head from side to side.

Dick raised his eyebrows. It was the first actual response he had gotten from Wolfie.

“I won’t do it at all next time?” he said slowly.

Wolfie huffed and moved his snout onto Dick’s legs, demanding more pets.

It was the full moon, the first one since Tim or Dick had been taken.

In the middle of the night, Dick was nudged awake.

“Stop it, Timmy,” Dick grumbled, pulling the covers closer.

“No, Dick, get up. I want to show you something.”

“’m sleeping.”

“Please, Dickie. You’ll like it.”

Finally, after some more grumbling and insistence, Dick opened his eyes. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the scant bits of moonlight that filtered into the cave and to register the face hovering above his.

It was not Tim.

Dick blinked several times to make sure he was not dreaming. He turned his head to the side and realized that Tim was still asleep in the bed next to him, cocooned tightly in his blankets.

“Who are you?” Dick asked. He slowly sat up, looking around the cave. Wolfie was nowhere to be seen.

The strange man grinned took Dick’s hand. “I want to show you something,” he repeated.

“Huh?” Dick, still not fully awake, stumbled to his feet, tugged along by the man. “Wait, who are you? Where’s- Where’s Wolfie?”

It was bizarre for Dick to be exiting the cave without Wolfie trotting behind him or Tim chattering loudly by his side. The moon was large and bright above them, lighting the way.

It was then that Dick noticed that the man was also completely naked, running barefoot through the forest.

“Hurry up, Dickie!” the man would occasionally turn and say.

“How do you know my name?” Dick asked, though none of his questions were ever answered.

Dick felt like they had been running for miles by the time they stopped. Dick had no idea where they were, nor did he have any idea who was leading him. Perhaps it was just a very realistic dream.

“Look,” the man said, pointing in front of them. Dick gasped softly when he saw the cabin. It looked like a rich person’s vacation cabin, three stories tall and very large. “Do you… like it?” the man asked.

Dick looked at him. “I don’t- I don’t understand,” he said. “Who are you? What is this place?”

“Home,” the man said with a smile. He stepped closer. “Home, Dickie.”

Dick got a good look at the man. He was a bit taller than Dick, with black hair and blue eyes and a deliciously sharp jawline. The rest of his body, which Dick may or may not have been admiring to distract himself from the burning of his lungs, was just as attractive.

“Is this your house?” Dick asked.

“Mine, yours, Timmy’s, ours,” the man said. “I want to show you the inside.”

“I don’t- what?” Dick asked, having no choice but to follow the man.

The inside of the cabin was gorgeous as well. The rich, dark wood gave the cabin a warm feel to it, and it was comfortably furnished as well. But the man ignored all of that in favor of pulling Dick up the stairs.

He pulled Dick into the first room on the second floor.

“What’s this?” Dick asked, looking around. It looked like a typical master bedroom.

“It’s our bedroom,” the man said proudly.

“…I’m sorry, did you say our?”

The man nodded.

“I don’t get it,” Dick said helplessly. “Can you please just tell me who you are?”

The man’s smile faded a little. “I’m your mate.”

“Mate?”

“I’ll take care of you and make sure you’re safe and happy,” the man said. He stepped forward, pulling Dick closer by slipping an arm around Dick’s waist. If Dick were not beyond confused by his situation, he would not have minded so much.

“I don’t even know you!” Dick said.

The man leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to the back of Dick’s jaw. “You know me,” he whispered in Dick’s ear. “I’ve taken care of you and Timmy.”

Just like that, it clicked, though it made no sense either. “You’re- You’re Wolfie?”

“Jason,” the man said. “My name’s Jason.” The kisses trailed to Dick’s cheek, edging closer to his lips. “I’m a werewolf.”

“Werewolf… like- like vampires and werewolves,” Dick said, unable to wrap his head around it.

Jason pulled back, his expression puzzled. “N…o? Just werewolf. I don’t know any vampires. They usually congregate in the South.”

“Oh! How convenient,” Dick said as a hysterical giggle bubbled up his throat. “I was kidnapped by a werewolf who now thinks I’m his mate.”

Jason stepped back this time, his face contorted in a frown. “I didn’t kidnap you,” he said, his voice low. “You called me.”

“What?! That’s ridiculous!” Dick said. “Why- Why would I call you?”

“I don’t know,” Jason snapped. “You sat at your window every time for two weeks, calling to me! You told me to take you away.”

“I would never do that!” Dick said, a chill running through him.

Jason looked hurt. His arms crossed in front of him, defensive. “You did, though.”

“No, I didn’t,” Dick insisted. “I had a good life, and I didn’t need someone to ‘take me away’ from it. All you did was ruin my life by kidnapping me!”

Jason recoiled, stepping backwards again. “You don’t want to be my mate?” he asked.

“No!”

“Fine.” Jason turned and started walking away.

“Where the hell are you going?” Dick demanded. “You’re just going to leave me here?”

“You can have this place,” Jason growled. “I don’t need it anymore now that I don’t have a mate.” He stormed down the stairs, heading for the front door. “I’m going back to Tim.”

“He’s just a kid!” Dick shouted. “Even if you didn’t kidnap me, you certainly took him!”

Jason jerked the door open and turned for a second. “I did not! He found me! He followed me! He threatened to tell authorities where I was hiding if I didn’t take him in!”

“What?” Dick asked. “But- But why did he lie then?”

Jason just gave him one more withering glare before slamming the door behind him. Dick ran to the window, and all he saw was the flash of a large wolf’s tail before the dark forest was all that surrounded him.

That night, Dick tried to sleep, but he could not, tossing and turning on the couch. The next night, it got worse. Dick could not even find a comfortable position to lie still in. The third night, Dick spent pacing, exhausted but unable to rest.

Something just felt wrong. He just felt distinctly uncomfortable everywhere, despite it not being physical. Dick felt like he was going crazy.

On the fourth day, Dick crawled into the bed on the second floor master bedroom and sobbed for an hour straight before falling asleep. He slept through the night for the first time. But the next night, he kept waking up. By the end of the week, Dick could not sleep at all again.

He had taken to sitting by the window, staring forlornly out into the forest. Dick had no idea what was bothering him so much, nor did he know what he was searching for.

At the start of the second week, Dick propped the window open, his head resting on the windowsill as he stared into the forest.

“I miss you,” he whispered to the silent trees. “I’m lonely. Please come back.”

Not even the breeze answered.

Dick felt warmer than he had all week. The warmth was surrounding him completely, and Dick reached out for more, his hands grabbing fistfuls of the warmth and pulled himself closer.

Then the warmth moved, curling tighter around Dick. It made him inexplicably happy.

Dick’s eyes snapped open to find that he was pressed against a very furry mass. There was a large paw curled around his waist as well, keeping him close.

Dick pushed himself up as much as he could. “Wolfie?” he whispered, recognizing the dozing wolf. He also recognized the cave he had spent much of the past month in. On his other side, Tim was sprawled on his chest, starfish style.

Dick smiled, unable to help the flood of relief that ran through him. He was back, like the past week was just some terrible nightmare.

He lay back down, snuggling even closer and fell asleep again.

---

The second that morning broke, Dick was shoved awake by Tim.

“Where the hell were you?!” he demanded.

“Wha…?”

“You disappeared in the middle of the night, and Wolfie was worried sick! And he was depressed without you here. And I missed you too, you idiot!”

Dick sat up only to be hugged tightly by Tim. He patted Tim’s back and looked around the cave, his eyes lingering on Wolfie, who was sitting by the entrance, his tail flopped over his eyes.

“How… How did I get back here?” Dick asked.

“Wolfie brought you back,” Tim said. “He’s just been moping around the cave all day and night, and then last night, he just perked up and took off into the forest. When he came back, you were asleep on his back.”

“Oh,” Dick said, looking back at Wolfie. He extracted himself from Tim and hesitantly walked over there. “Hey,” he said, sitting down next to the wolf’s head. Dick took Wolfie’s tail away. “I’m sorry I worried you. I don’t… I don’t know if you can understand all of what I’m saying when you’re… um, in this form, but thank you. For coming back for me.

“I don’t really know what going on, but I just know I missed you a lot. Timmy too, but…” Dick trailed off, looking into Wolfie’s golden eyes. “Do you know what I’m saying?”

Wolfie stared at him. Then, he raised his head and licked Dick’s cheek.

“Okay,” Dick said. “I guess I’ll talk to you more when you… I don’t know, change back or something?”

He got another lick.

“Alright then,” Dick said with a small smile. He sat down and leaned against Wolfie’s side, finally feeling at peace.

#welcome to the reject pile #another werewolf au #gaygent37

[deerlyloved]

friends of friends

under cut: a long fanfiction about my fallout 3 oc, clyde, and his experiences with trauma after the pitt

The Capital Wasteland was an inhospitable place, one that even the most toughened of people would struggle in. Mountains of concrete left in radiated piles around the once-bustling city meant it was a struggle to get anywhere in the decimated city unless you decide to take your chances with the potential fall, and the people who flooded the streets you could traverse made the fall seem ideal.

The dangers faced when just trying to walk through the Capital Wastes were bad, but when you tried to settle they got worse. Raiders, slavers, radiation, ghouls, or sometimes just plain bad luck… It seemed near impossible to try and live there, the land mostly infertile and the people hostile.

And that’s why Clyde loved it. Just like home, but with way fewer trogs and way more people. Another plus was being able to do whatever the fuck he wanted to with slavers he found and people not care, either way, no praise for being a hero or dirty looks from someone he kept alive as a reminder. Just quiet apathy and blank looks. It was nice.

He kicked a raiders face in one day and the settlers he was bothering said thanks and moved on. He broke another's legs the next and no one mentioned it.

Maybe resorting to violence to get his feelings out without having to address them wasn’t healthy, but he didn’t know that that was what he was doing, so he didn’t care and just kept swinging and shooting to his heart’s content.

The journey from the Pitt to the Capital Wasteland was...hazy to him. He remembered refusing to go back to the steelyard to give her to Wernher, making him come out instead. The days that followed as Midea took charge, forming new systems to make sure everyone was safe, new expansions, new everything still made him feel almost hopeful. He stood next to her with a gun the entire time and damn near snarling at anyone who got too close, same with Marie. Midea was so hopeful, so happy to see a light at the end of the tunnel finally, and it was infectious. Once they had a farm going, they cleared out Haven of food, and once people got something edible in their stomachs?

Clyde had never seen the place so busy. Even when they had slavers breathing down their necks and beating them, when pain and death were reasonable responses to so much as stumbling, they weren’t as busy and motivated as then. Reinforcements were built up in a day or two, the steelyard was cleared in three weeks and lit up in another two with ingots being found much more easily than they ever were when slaves were being thrown in for fun.

It was almost a settlement, somewhere that could turn out to be worth-fucking-while to put effort into, especially once word got out and traders stopped by again.

And that might be why Clyde left. He could remember packing, and then stopping and having to talk himself into telling Midea, saying goodbye before he up and left. It went about as well as he thought it would, Midea clinging to him and his armor and crying, asking him to stay. Marie was too young to understand, so she didn’t cry like Midea or the other newly not-slaves did. Clyde felt a small twinge of guilt, but it was knocked away by his usual state of uncaring that was so ground into him he couldn’t help it.

The walk took a few days, but he just kept going. Only stopping to sleep and take a small break here and there, he walked to the ruined area of DC and then kept going until he found himself near a tall, crumbling building, three-stories high with a gate. He stared for longer than he wanted to admit, realizing he’d been traversing through unknown territory and not even caring for his surroundings until now. He finally noticed the relative chill of the night, feeling that his skin had flushed at the new temperature.

He was so used to the constant heat of the Pitt that he wanted to shiver at the air around him, even though it was more than welcome.

Finally, someone spoke, a woman. She shouted from the second story, half-hidden from behind a ruined window frame. “What’s your business, stranger?”

Clyde didn’t know what to say. He had no idea what his business was, he just didn’t want to be in the Pitt anymore so he walked and walked and ended up here. He opened his mouth to speak, finding the most convenient lie to spout just like he’d been doing since he was 13.

He said he wanted a place to trade and rest his feet, never mind the fact he had nothing to trade and it was obvious. The woman narrowed her eyes, her finger staying on the trigger of the guns he already had readied and trained on Clyde.

“Hannibal says I gotta let folks like you in, but that don’t mean I have to like it.” She shouted back at him. Keep your hands in sight, and don’t make any sudden moves.” Her gone lowered just an inch, and she paused as she scanned Clyde up and down. “I’m coming down to open the gate.”

Clyde went in. The woman, Simone, literally locked him in the building, telling him to go speak with the previously mentioned Hannibal before she talked to him. Once he found out they were all escaped slaves, the woman’s hostility clicked in Clyde’s mind, and he suddenly felt the same protective feelings he had towards his not-slave family for everyone in the building.

Not love, maybe not even a bond, just a need to protect them.

So he left as quickly as he could. He left and just walked the streets of DC, another soul lost in the ruins of a forgotten civilization.

During the months he wondered, he joined a mercenary company. He became the “quiet one”, the “new kid”, and he earned a minor reputation for being reliable. Even with a bullet in his shoulder and blurred vision, he would make sure every last feral ghoul in the area was dead before he paused to take care of himself.

Something he still looked back on with confusion and wonder is how he found the time to revisit the Pitt, and by extent, the people there. He would never understand why he let himself go back, or why he even wanted to in the first place, but he found himself at the gates one day, a bag full of toy cars and teddy bears for Marie.

The first time he had ever done that, Midea had nearly tackled him with the hug she gave him, and she made sure Wenher had brought Marie out to see him as well. He stayed for a week or so before he decided it was time to head back to the Capital Wastes.

Clyde never cared for the people he traveled with, barely caring to learn their name, but he found himself passing through the streets of DC one particular night, following behind a pack brahmin weighed down with scrap metal and junk.

In the distance, he saw it, shining lights from a crumbling building being patched up with plywood and scrap metal. He raised his gun as they approached, as did the rest of the guards, but the closer the more they realized what they were approaching.

The Temple of the Union had expanded and moved to a more reasonable state of living. The Lincoln Memorial now housed them, the walls that had been torn down through years of abuse and neglect now patched up with wood, stone, and lots of hard work. It had become a central part of the Capital Wasteland, a beacon of hope for some people and an intimidating force for others.

The caravan he guarded stopped to trade and rest their feet for the night, and Clyde found himself at the end of the stairs with a stabbing in his chest keeping him from walking too far up. A woman shouted down at him after a few minutes of him standing around kicking his feet, almost mockingly, “What’s your business, stranger?”

Clyde felt just a tiny bit better as he met the gaze of Simone, who walked down with her gun in her hands and a smirk on her face. “Long time no see.”

Simone coerced him up the stairs with promises of ammo and extra water, and Clyde was almost instantly bombarded with quiet cheers from the slaves he once knew when he stumbled across the Temple of the Union months ago.

When morning came, Clyde didn’t follow the caravan out. He handed the man his caps back and went back to the room he had been sitting in all night. It felt… right to be here. For once, something felt right to him, not almost-right where he was walking on eggshells trying to find a place to sit. So he stayed. He stayed until a woman named Rosie Red came marching into the Lincoln Memorial like she owned the place, a woman with a deactivated slave collar trailing behind her with knives attached to her belt and a smirk on her face.

He stayed until Rosie looked at him, asked him how much his contract was, and bought him out for the year. Then, he followed Rosie around, not that she went far.

She boasted herself as an old assassin, a black widow in the wasteland that took down scummy men to make sure they never hurt another person. She’d quickly add “well... women too…” and wink at her partner, Clover. Rosie went on and on about how she had a reputation, and when Clyde asked around it was confirmed that she did. A few people even said that Rosie had been the one that freed them in the first place, killing their masters, buying them and turning them loose, or just doing something as simple as opening a gate.

Clyde didn’t trust her, contract or not, and he always made sure to keep a closer eye on her than was necessary.

The Union had grown so much, and after Clyde had his week in the Memorial, he considered leaving just as he had with the Pitt. The prosperity was too much for him, it almost reminded him of Haven when he was young. Every small, innocent interaction was painted dark, the heat of the Pitt finding him even in the coolness of DC as Clyde watched two raiders exchange cigarettes before turning back into the good-hearted ex-slaves on the stairs they were.

It’s like he was being haunted, even small things pulling him back however far into his past it wanted him to go. One of the slaves had a baby when she came in, and he had to cup his ears so he’d stop picturing Marie in her crib, confused and whining as he killed her mother just feet from her.

He tried to leave after that, standing and grabbing his bag, packed and ready to go like always. He went for the stairs, the chill seeping into his bones and his ears still ringing from the sound of the whining baby, trying to walk down without drawing too much attention to himself and failing miserably evidently.

His arm was grabbed, and Clyde whirled around and reared back to hit whoever it was that grabbed him, only to come face to face with the aged face of Hamilton. The man gave him a solemn look, lips pursed into a fine line. The air between them was still, the city seemed to go quiet for a few moments as they stared at each other, Clyde blankly and Hamilton ever-so disappointedly.

“Just promise to take care of yourself.”

Clyde almost grimaced at the words, but years of training had made sure he didn’t, and he just stared, moving from Hamiltons grasp as he continued off down the stairs after the look grew too much for him to bear. The feeling followed him, and all Clyde could feel as he stared down the decrepit streets of DC was those eyes on his back, watching, waiting, disappointed.

He stopped just at the bottom of the steps, some ache in his chest keeping him from walking any further as he stared into the night. He thought, and thought, and then he couldn’t stand thinking anymore so he sat on the bottom steps, eyes sliding shut and his head in his hands.

Clyde didn’t want to be Clyde. He didn’t want to be a weapon, or a monster, or a hero, he just wanted to not be anything. Maybe he wanted to be dead. Just the product of some asshole in power armor thinking torturing a child was the way to a new, better world. Just a weapon, a weapon always, what more was he good at? Any ability to decide who he was wiped clean long ago-- He couldn’t even remember who he was. Was Clyde even his goddamn name?

He sat on the stairs, trying not to curl in on himself, just trying to find some semblance of calm in the rushing thoughts in his head. He knew he was alone once the hairs on the back of his neck stopped standing, and all he could do was think.

Clyde sat for what seemed like hours in the moonlight, thinking but not really having many thoughts besides “Oh God, what have you gotten yourself into?” and “You have a job, finish it.”

His head snapped towards someone sitting next to him, and he saw the fair face of Rosie Red. She leaned back on the step behind her, her legs stretching out in front of her as she looked towards the sky. Even at night, she was wearing red lipstick, her hair a mess and a look of knowing on her face. He stared, suspicion creeping back on him as he stared. What did she want? He said nothing, knowing better than to speak up against his boss, but his face gave it all away.

“You don’t have to finish out your contract, but I would have appreciated a warning, kid.” She said softly, eyebrows knitting together in worry for a split second before her entire face relaxed again. “If you want to go, you can. Just be safe, alright? It’s a dangerous world out there.”

“I owe you a few more months of work, I will give you them.” Clyde replied, looking down towards the pavement between his feet.

“But you don’t want to.” Rosie retorted.

“I owe you a few more months of work--”

“What do you want, Clyde? Do you know?”

“I will give you them.”

Rosie sighed deeply, her eyes sliding shut. “You remind me of Clover.” She murmured, going silent for nearly a minute until she spoke again, “Well, kid… If you want to stay, then stay. If you want to go… Ask yourself why.”

Rosie then stood, smiling down at the man before she turned and walked back up the stairs, where Clover was waiting tiredly by the entrance to the memorial.

No point in questioning your boss.

A loud clattering noise snapped Clyde out of his reminiscing, and his eyes snapped to the caps spread across the floor and the man cursing as he picked them up. Bottlecap, of course. He was the person that was best with numbers, so he was put in charge of the money by Hamilton.

Clyde watched stoically as Bottlecap knelt down, gathering the caps back into the cloth sack they had spilled from with more grumbles and complaints, though he shooed away those who attempted to help. Ever protective of the job he was given, just like the rest of them. Regardless of how much you disconnect yourself from your history, the habits you form never leave, it’s why Clyde was a mercenary, why Bottlecap looked up terrified when the woman tried to help him gather the caps he’d spilled, and it’s why that woman flinched when Bottlecap told her to leave.

He had decided to stay a year ago, though he didn’t understand why even now. He didn’t think it mattered, though, as long as he was here, employed by a woman who deserved his protection, he didn’t feel bad. Rosie let him make a trip every few months to the Pitt, though she didn’t know that’s where he went, no one did. Clyde tried his best to make sure no one knew he came from the Pitt, an act of protection in his mind.

The DC chill still bothered him, even now as he was comfortably cool, and he felt the need to just stop patching his armor halfway through to have the extra layer on. He’d ditched the cracked leather years ago, now in comfortable metal pieces that he constantly took care of, always remembering the time he spent in the steelyard with nothing between him and the snapping jaws of the trogs but cloth.

He was ever grateful for metal armor.

Sun shone in through the holes in the walls of the memorial, and Clyde focused his attention back on his armor, finally going over the last few pieces with careful eyes before he put it all back on, standing and looking around the room with a long, slow glance as he moved for the door. Bottlecap had gathered the last of the caps he’d dropped and had moved on to wherever he was going, and the room was filled with a relative silence once more save for the quiet murmurs from people too far for Clyde to hear clearly.

He walked out the door, grimacing at the sunlight that hit his eyes and blinded him for a short moment before he finally adjusted, looking around the area. A farm had been set up in the mangled debris, encircled with its own fences, gates, and guards like it was the most precious thing in the world.

He turned his head to clance at the top of the memorial, seeing a chair set up next to a crate with Nuka Cola bottles covering it, and a small, blonde woman positioned just next to it. She had her hand on a sniper rifle next to her, her legs dangling freely over the ledge of the Memorial in a way that just taunted fate. She saw Clyde looking and raised her hand to wave before she leaned back and grabbed a half-full Nuka Cola.

Everything was exactly as it should be. Clyde had grown used to the relative peace the Temple of the Union held, though the urge to flee bubbled up nearly every day-- he always ignored it, thankfully. At this point, if he took off, Rosie would hunt him down just to scold him for worrying her.

He moved to one of the pillars that held the Memorial up, leaning against it and looking out onto the street. Junk walls had been put up in an attempt to fortify the Memorial, and they worked rather effectively. Made of metal and welded together, it was hard to get past the wall without Liberty taking you out first, and Clyde liked to think he was support. Anyone who got past the walls, whether by pure skill or blind luck, didn’t make it any further thanks to him and his gun.

Just as the relative peace found him and his thoughts, it was gone.

A bullet lodging it’s way in the pillar Clyde stood on snapped his attention towards the road, scanning the little road he could see just above the walls for any sign of movement. He heart Liberty scurry above, knocking off dust and pebbles as she readied herself to shoot.

He saw nothing, and since Liberty wasn’t firing, she saw nothing. The workers outside all went quiet, most freezing in place as they looked towards the gate, others moving slowly towards the Memorial to take cover.

And finally, Clyde saw movement, but Liberty saw it first, and the person moving just outside the gates was shot down before they got any closer. Clyde hated to say it, hated to even think it, but he knew the armor, even though he just barely saw it. His feet were moving before he even realized, and he found himself at the gate, peering out of it with narrowed eyes to see a raider-- no, a slaver-- on the ground with blood beginning to pool. He had no gun.

“Ah shit.” Clyde murmured, spinning around and motioning for those outside to take cover, looking over his shoulder out the slot in the gate again. 

“Here we fuckin’ go.”

#my ocs #clyde #fallout #fallout oc #fallout 3 #my writing #oc writing #fallout fanfiction #fallout oc fanfiction

[empressxmachina]

Sideline - “iv.”

“Uh, h-hi, Jake.”

Just by looking at each other, they both knew the same opinion was going through their heads:

‘This was fucking weird.’

Despite that, neither of them lost sense of their humanities, and Madi didn’t appear physically hurt as a cherry on top. They solely changed sizes comparatively and nothing else, as far as they could tell. But for the smaller half of the pair to get even tinier at such a large scale was ridiculous, more than either of them ever imagined. Nevertheless, they tried to keep it together for both of their sakes.

Jake slowly continued to unravel Madi from her textile prison, eventually smoothly transferring her from fabric to flesh and feeling her skin and scarily little weight on his palm. The visual of his long fingers towering above and able to curl over her was also quite nauseating. But chundering by a friend, especially one as close to him as her (in every sense), would not be a good look.

For this to happen to someone as sweet as her and it being possible at all just made him sick and confused.

“Holy shit, Madi,” he breathed, blowing her hair back with his voice. For once in his life, he was glad to have chosen water over a soda earlier. Even if it wasn’t the same kind – the one Madi had wasn’t a favorite of his from the get-go – spreading anything across her that would drill this in her more than it already had would’ve shot his already high guilt and pity further into the sky. “How in the fuck—?”

“Ugh, do I really need to explain this again!?” Madi exploded, now second-guessing her assumptions of Jake’s intelligence. Perhaps he was more the jock stereotype than she thought with the flinching and look of astonishment by which he reacted to her, both of which shaking her as well. “What part of ‘A fucking soda did this to me’ did you not understand? If you didn’t get that, then why in fuck did you pull that shit? Did you really just want to get it off me? Did you think you’d get me off by getting it off me? Did you make me wet to get YOU off!?”

“Jesus Christ, Madeline. Chill,” Jake shushed her in a fruity voice, putting his snake-like finger up to his mouth before bringing it close to hers – his fingertip eclipsing her entire head. “I know the fucking soda did this to you; I want to know why. What kind of chemical makes people shrink and shit?” Madi couldn’t help cringing, curling into herself, having overreacted for no reason. However, her cowering soon became a cover for the blushes that Jake then caused to appear. “As for the, uh, ‘getting off,’ you’d have to be some kind of freak to get off to a doll or, I guess, being a doll, in your case. Though I’ve got to say, you are pretty adorable, Mads.”

“Please, no,” she pleaded, slumping her shoulders with her face still in hiding, knowing that her smallness was now a large part of her, despite how much she wanted it to be otherwise. “I know I probably don’t look so human, but I’d still like to be treated like one, ass wipe.”

“‘Look’ is just the tip of the iceberg. I’m not the biochemist here, but I think I know enough science to know that you shouldn’t even be functioning fully: talking, hearing, seeing, and all of that good shit.” Jake brought his Madi-holding hand closer to himself as he extended his syllables and examined her in astonishment. “What. The. Fuck?”

Meanwhile, Madi instinctively scooted further and further into the flesh wall Jake’s fingers made behind her, even though she couldn’t go anywhere else without falling to her demise and knew it, too. The thought of being overtaken by his battering ram nose or brushed by his enviable eyelashes without him even trying was just too much for the little lass.

“Yeah, uh, could you, like, not with that? ” she attempted, nearly meeting the stubble surrounding Jake’s lips and chin before he looked down at her, noticed her apprehension, and backed off, bringing her to a somewhat distant, somewhat calming eye level. “Thank you. Being comparatively short to most people in normal life was hard enough, even though I was supposedly average on charts. The last thing I need now is a close-up, okay?”

“Right. Sorry,” Jake apologized, even noting to talk more sotto voce.

Just because she wasn’t flinching at his volume for whatever reason, that didn’t mean that he wasn’t still loud. Sure, the packed stadiums and arenas for games and competitions with their high volumes probably set a standard for her, but Jake knew that this could’ve been another type of noise, and then one could add all the nonsense the body does on its own to make it even louder and more detailed. He wondered how much she could hear and see now.

“It just makes no sense how you’re like this,” he reinforced. “You’re fucking minuscule.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” Madi scoffed back, also lowering her own voice but still audible to the relative giant’s ears. “I think that’s been stated enough.” Her tough outer shell hid how hard the truth just kept hitting her. Seeing nearly all her curled-up frame in her reflection in Jake’s eyes was almost vomit-inducing, especially when he rolled them in response to her sass.

“Yeah, but do you really know how tiny you are? Do you know what could happen to you like this or what could’ve happened? Hell, I don’t even know how that fucking phone of yours called me,” he said, lightly nudging it out of Madi’s grasp onto his palm next to her, somehow also muting it in the process. “I can barely see the thing. I could barely see you by that can. But I did, so everything’s pretty much going in your favor so far, huh?”

“How about no? I’m still like this, and it’s not like I didn’t already have enough stress going on in my life.”

“Well, I’m sure there’s a way to fix this, probably one as quick and obtainable as whatever in that drink caused this. We need to get you out of here, first.”

“And, exactly how did you plan on doing that?” Madi pondered aloud, noticing how Jake had nothing with him, aside from his clothes.

“Oh, uh, er—” Jake struggled to come up with an answer as Madi’s scenario hadn’t been a possibility that he had or would’ve considered. Since these were the cards he was dealt, he wasn’t sure what to do with them. “Shit, what are we going to do?”

“‘We?’ Why are you asking me? Jake, you know I can’t do anything! Look at me!”

“Don’t blame me for that! This is a two-way street, and you could’ve fucking warned me about this!”

“Are you saying that you would’ve believed that a fucking soda fucking shrunk me to…” Madi paused to estimate her new size. Through all the time she had had to adjust to it, figuring a number for it never came to mind. However, remembering how much of a mountain Jake was to most people, she soon realized that basing her little length on his large one was futile. “…whatever size I am now? You barely believed that I was here full-sized when you walked in! What the fuck would you have done differently!?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe brought a fucking bag or some shit?” Jake countered. “You didn’t need to open the fucking soda, Madi!”

“Are you blaming me for this!?” Madi shrieked, not wanting more negativity placed on herself. She ran her hands through her hair before setting them on her face and continuing, muffled, “What did I do to deserve this!?”

“This wouldn’t have happened, otherwise, would it!?” Jake barked back before immediately regretting what he said – it made evident by his elongated face and Madi’s trembling. “No, I-I didn’t mean that. Well, I kind of did but not to hurt you. This… This is just crazy, alright? I don’t even get why a recalled drink was even still available to you so late in the game, literally.” He then attempted to console her, curling his free hand directly behind her back as an assuring gesture, mostly because he was sure anything else would damage her. “I know you did nothing wrong. This probably could’ve happened to anyone, and don’t you worry. This will pass, and, just like you wanted, I’ve got you.”

Although she was unsure of whether or not that was meant to be an apology, Madi pulled her hands away at his sweet remarks, and for the first time since they had first met, she saw Jake with not only beauty but also novel capability. He hadn’t been so profound with her since their one class together way back when. Any overshadowing thoughts she had about him being a typical jock went right out the window, and she had never felt more blessed to have a friend.

However, she wasn’t as appreciative of his following comments, and the smile that shined on her face soon vanished.

“But, really, how do you want to do this?” Jake inquired. “I ask because I, uh…” He paused with a groan, not sure how to explain himself without making their scenario any more dramatic than it already was. “…I have one idea, but I think any of yours would probably be better.”

Madi, having watched him remove the hand behind her and slide it down from his nose to his chin, sensed that his something, whatever it was, might be bothering him but couldn’t tell why or be sure. Yet, knowing that the time without being noticed by nasty Nash outsiders was running out, she just went with it.

“Okay?” she accepted cautiously. “Well, I really don’t want people to know about this, so the safer and more hidden I am, the better.”

Jake attempted to hide his discomfort with her answer. His idea had technically aligned with her wants, but he had this feeling that she was not going to like it one bit.

“Alright,” he could only sheepishly respond. “Well, um, you’re the science major, so you, er, go on and figure out what’s best for you, whatever you want to do.”

“Sure.” Her reply was positive, and now she was just as positive that Jake had not only a bother but a problem. Another big problem within her oversized insanity; how wonderful. But rather than letting it boil over, she let it simmer in her subconscious, followed his suggestion, and began thinking of places to hide with him.

It took an uncomfortably short period to realize hiding with him more so meant hiding on him. Madi managed to keep a cringe inside and prayed Jake’s notion had nothing to do with that via some trap card out of his ass. Still, despite her ingenuity, she couldn’t think of one, and, like with all those math proofs from last year, she could only work with what she was given. In any other circumstance, having Jackson Averill at her will would be a dream, but the fairy-like femme floated in a nightmare… or purgatory… whichever was worse.

No possible, present view gave Madi a full vision of what or, more validly, who to plan from. He was so much to take in at once, so she asked to better see it all.

“Um,” she beckoned, “can I check out the vehicle provided for me?”

Initially, Jake didn’t catch her drift, but it didn’t take him long to click and nearly blush at her wording. It wouldn’t be the first time she called him a ride, and while this was something else, her maintained humor was a relief.

He gave her in return a prying smirk as if to ask ‘How?’, and all Madi had to do back was a couple of motions for him to become a model. She fluttered her hands his way to get him to back up, stopping when he reached the end of their row of benches. A lowering motion then directed him to set her down on said end bench. Words couldn’t describe her gratitude in knowing that if her voice or any tiny sounds she made went inaudible to his ears or any normal-sized ones were too much for her, then they would still be able to communicate somewhat.

If he stayed alert for her. God forbid him from getting distracted.

As she shook that fear out of existence, and once she and her things were gently set onto the hard surface, Jake gave her a bit more space and took a few more steps backward so that she could see him all at once. With her new perspective, really trying to not depress herself over her lack of creaking and noticeable shadow on contact, her primal instincts kicked in, unable to handle the visage of an Adonis in front of her.

Like his facial features, the years of football and weight training had done wonders for his physique. While Madi had already seen sides of him that only a few were blessed enough to observe, seeing their outlines and envisioning them bare and visible at this scale gave her chills.

Madi gestured for Jake to spin around to check if he genuinely had no pockets. Upon one rotation, especially with his phone snapped to his pelvis under his waistband, she sadly confirmed her hypothesis with a sigh – a bitter contrast to the gasp she gave to the sight of his global glutes. He truly lived up to his tight end position in and out of sports, and Madi would need a thesaurus made for a postdoc to describe his front side. The things his body had done to hers were incomparable to present possibilities, and she didn’t know how to feel.

Little did she know that Jake was pondering the same thing.

When the giant jock came back around from his turn, rather than seeing an inquisitive Madeline, he found a disgruntled one instead, and the smug look on his face fell off. Jake could only figure that her suspicions had finally meshed with his, and thus he slowly crept up and knelt on one knee before her to not frighten her even more.

“Have you come up with anything?” he asked timidly, resting his forearms on his level thigh.

“Only if your teammates aren’t as rowdy on a bus ride as they are on the field,” Madi remarked, looking up at him in bittersweet wonder, knowing fully well that if someone shook him around while she was on his person, then she’d be in deep shit. “What chance do I have of getting back to Kingston alive if I went under your hat or by your collar or something?”

“Uh, well, if we had lost tonight, I’d guess 75% or so?” Jake calculated, rubbing his chin in thought. “No one would probably want to talk about it, and they’d keep to themselves unless Coach decided to bag on everyone, which would only get them even more in their feelings.”

But they didn’t lose. If Madi hadn’t been following the score while caring for Cari, the Knights’ sore losers’ chaos she ran through that erupted afterward was enough of a tell on its own, and the look on Jake’s face made her brace for the celebratory yikes that was likely the Royals on their side.

“But the bus was lit as all fuck when I left it,” Jake continued, “and I can already envision Coach or Big Q tousling my hair or Chad going in for a chest bump once I get back. Hell, he gave me three on the field after my scoring play alone, so, uh, I’d rather not risk it.”

“Well, fuck!” Madi cursed herself, kicking her bag off her ledge in anger. Luckily, Jake was watching her every move intently and moved quickly enough to catch it. Otherwise, they both would’ve most likely forgotten it there for some soul to find, trash, or worse. He was even kind enough to carefully put her fallen clothes and phone in it for her, feeling less like storing doll accessories and more like spice sprinkling than his liking. Madi, meanwhile, was fuming too much to notice. “You might as well give me your idea, then,” she succumbed. “We don’t have much time for much else.”

“You know this could’ve been a lot easier on both of us if you had just let me bring backup,” Jake reminded her, setting her bag back down next to her and hoping to God that she’d just let him call someone for help.

“Don’t try to diverge from this by bringing up something you had control over – still have control over,” she countered, crossing her arms and cocking her head to the side. As sweet as his situational submission of silence was, she couldn’t physically stop him from doing anything if she tried. Not that she could before, but she definitely couldn’t now. “I saw you fumbling with yourself about something, and if it’s about this, then it can’t be much worse than what I’m already going through, right? Just lay it on me, dude.”

Jake sighed at her relentlessness, recognizing that she still had so much force, so much determination, even with such diminutive dimensions. She had moxie, and he liked that. He liked it so much that he was willing to put her wishes over his own and keep her new look a secret, for now, despite how dumb doing so actually was.

“Can you just promise me to not say anything until I explain it fully?” Jake hoped with a defensive slump and scrunching face. “It’ll make sense with the backstory… probably.”

If one could even call it that, his preface wasn’t much, and the time to ponder it was slim to none. But Madi hadn’t yet a reason to not trust his judgment – the calamity with the cleaners was questionable but not totally repulsive – thus, she shrugged, expressing her tolerance.

Like her with him previously, Jake knew that he wasn’t going to get better out of her, and so he began. “Okay. I have an idea, and, frankly, it’s some divine intervention or some bullshit how this shit with you had to happen on the one day I decided to be a stylish bastard.”

#g/t #my writing #sideline #sw #giant male #sports and smut; what it do? #happy new year!

[ellidoesstuff]

“So What’s Band Like” pt. 2

aka random stuff people in my marching band have done but make it reminiscing on my freshman marching season edition and more focused on general events then what specific people have done

okay so like just to cover bases that one good percussionist from part one is the only percussionist that continued on into high school band

which is a fucking upgrade if you ask me

also i’m the only flute of my grade so i was flute baby™ last year

and then oboe baby when concert season came around

or as i like to call it

boboe™

oh and don’t fool yourself into thinking we have an oboe section either

it’s literally just me and my friend

anyway lets get deeper in to it then your boyfriend/S.O will ever be in you

or then you’ll ever be in your girlfriend/S.O

I ain’t gonna assume your situation

first band competition of the year we got stuck in a very hot band bus in a thunderstorm for like probably over an hour

we ended up being one of the only bands that actually stayed and performed which was cool 

what was also cool is that we sang the 99 bottles of beer on the wall song and actually made it to 0

i’m also proud to say that one of the people who started that was my crush at the time, and my boyfriend now

how chaotic of him 

but then again

he’s a percussionist

also my section leaders piccolo decided to just d i e and she couldn’t play for our entire performance at that competition

moving on

catch us drooling over a 200 plus member band at an away game with an elaborate Aladdin themed show

that same band played megalovania as a stand tune and when I say my band dropped all conversation and bopped to that shit I mean it

also the sunset that night looked like the teletubbie sunrise

when i informed my now boyfriend and my section leader of this they both looked at me like “why the fuck did you just ruin that beautiful sunset”

it is what it is

one time we had a flute hangout after school and before a Friday night away football game 

except make it like the flute section featuring the alto sax section leader and my now boyfriend (who if you don’t remember is a percussionist)

oh and also briefly featuring one of our drum majors from last year and a trombonist 

anyway we ate little caesars pizza at a playground in a neighborhood near the school

we also played on said playground

in the process putting my kermit plushie, who will most likely be a reoccurring character in this series, in the baby swing and pushing him

we then made friendship bracelets but my now boyfriend didn’t know how 

so i did what anyone who knows how to make friendship bracelets and who’s crushing on someone who doesn’t know how to make friendship bracelets would do

i taught him how to make friendship bracelets

we also sat on the band bus together to and from that nights away game where I continued to help him make a friendship bracelet and then we looked at memes on the way back

some of them were funny, some of them weren’t

i laughed at all of them 

why?

because i was and am…

a fucking simp

we hosted a competition the same day that we marched a two mile parade so basically everyone went home and crashed that night

Me, my friend, and my now boyfriend spent like over fifteen minutes trying to find this one band just so we could hand them a single candygram to give to some kid

that kid better have appreciated that candygram

My two friends and I also received a joint airgram from our moms so we all prompted to split the tiny piece of card stock into three and we each have a piece

It’s almost like a friendship bracelet

but one hundred times easier to loose

moving onto big boy competition territory 

aka the Atlantic Coastal Championships 

or at least i think that’s what ACC stands for 

We were the first people to perform that day so we had to wake up at the ass crack of dawn to get to the competition in time

Like legit imagine a bunch of tired band kids on a school bus at 6am

It was actually kind of nice and very quiet

My now boyfriend and I watched Coraline on my chromebook on the way there

We also watched Coco on the way back but we aren’t there yet

I brought my Kermit plushie, as I should’ve, but he did not escape unscathed 

My now boyfriend accidentally dropped him in his spilled chocolate milkshake which had made a fairly accurate rendition of Willy Wonka’s chocolate river on the stands

He was more upset about it then I was honestly and apologized a bunch while frantically trying to scrub the chocolate stain out of Kermit’s green plush flesh with his jeans

My now boyfriend also decided to spin Kermit up in the air like a helicopter and Kermit nearly flew over the back end of the bleachers since we were sat in the top row

Luckily he didn’t fly over but we quickly stopped throwing him around and Kermit promptly sat on the bleachers next to us for the rest of ACCs

Moving forward, I would highlight the game directly after I actually got together with my boyfriend but not a single fucking thing happened

Other then the fact that the concession stand ran out of hot chocolate 

But not before my boyfriend, our two friends, and I could get our hands on some

Flash forward, our football team, in an act of what was probably some form of witchcraft or just downright luck, qualified for playoffs and the first playoff game was a FOUR HOUR drive away

They really said “okay everybody lets travel to the other side of the state for a single football game”

And before you say “well it would take a lot longer to get to the other side of my state!”

pack it up west coast/midwest

I live on the east coast our states are  t i n y

we had to leave for this game in the middle of the school day right after lunch which meant i had to bring two separate book bags to school that day 

one bag for band and one bag for school

regardless we drove on the bus through mountains and trees for four hours before stopping off to have dinner at some rando restaurant

and no offense to old white people but like it must have been senior night or some shit because when I tell you the only people in that restaurant were like 70 to 80 band kids and a bunch of old white people I am not joking

It was terrifying

And I mean like I’m not inherently scared of old white people  

But what I am is non-binary growing up in a conservative area of a conservative state

And I was also holding the hand of my wonderful boyfriend who happens to be a person of color

I was scared I was about to be hate crimed 

Or he was about to get hate crimed

Luckily I think the fact that we were part of a flock of like 80 other teenagers all wearing red shirts and sweatpants scared them off

Or maybe they didn’t even notice and my social anxiety just said “they’re looking at you, love ;)” when they probably weren’t

We also ran the ice cream machine at that place dry

Anyway this was like November and it was super fucking cold outside so the home schools band invited us inside the school building when we got there since it was still a bit before the game

I got to talk to some of the flutes and they were super chill

We also made this weird ass dance circle where we went back and forth doing steps that I forget but remind me of the cotton eyed joe for some reason

Maybe that’s what we were dancing?

I don’t remember I just know like the entire low brass section plus a select group of the upper woodwinds/percussion were all in on it

I also remember what I think was one of the flutes looking at me and my boyfriend who was hugging me from behind and being very physically affectionate, as he usually is, and mentioning something about wondering what instrument he played

If in some miraculous event you are reading this mystery flute girl, he’s a percussionist 

you’re welcome

Nothing really stands out about the game itself other then how fucking cold it was and the fact that our football team won…

by a single point

We then all enjoyed the four hour ride back to the school

Most people spent it sleeping as it was like ten pm

Yeah you do the math we left at like 10pm

JK I’m not gonna make you do math we got back to the school at like 2am

Also notice how I said most people spent it sleeping

I probably would have been one of those people

However my lovely boyfriend, who again I do love, decided that a can of Mountain Dew at 10pm was a good idea

Baby, I love you, but why

10pm is too late for a Mountain Dew

We did end up sleeping for like an hour tho which was nice while it lasted

But then we had the glorious “Everyone we are about thirty minutes away from the school please call your parents to come pick you up” wake up call from our band director

And when I tell you that in that moment it felt like I was in between two different plains of existence

I am not kidding 

It is a very interesting vibe

Anyway I apologize for how painfully long that was but I literally could go into so much more detail. This is just grazing the surface of the experience that was my freshman marching season. However, I’m stopping myself here. If for some reason you want to read more of this and aren’t willing to wait for me to make the part three that will be directed toward this years socially distanced band season, you can read the first one of these which has a remarkably funnier collection of events and a lot less cussing. What can I say, I was an eighth grader in middle school band with an instructor who was very lenient on what we did when we weren’t playing. Until next time, this has been Elliot, signing off until i inevitably find something else interesting to share with the internet. 

#band #band kids #marching season #marching band #band geek #band class

[7-wonders]

Pour One Out

Summary: After lashing out at Michael, you find yourself at the receiving end of his rage. You stand up for yourself and decide to, in the words of Tom Haverford and Donna Meagle, “treat yo’self” to a night out with friends. Alcohol and anger make for great choices, right?

Word Count: 3973

A/N & Warnings: Warnings first: Alcohol, physical violence, people being mean to each other, cussing, partying. Hi there! Once again, I’m terrible at posting this story. It’s one of my favorite long-form pieces that I’ve ever written, but I’m still incapable of sticking to a schedule. Anyways, this is part 5 of my ‘Mad Love’ series, which I’ll have linked below. Feedback is always appreciated; leave me a like, reblog, comment, or ask letting me know what you think. My inbox is always open if you want to chat :)

Read Mad Love (part one) HERE | Read Totally F***ed (part two) HERE | Read The Isle of Flightless Birds (part three) HERE | Read A Hard Day’s Night (part four) HERE

The cursor on the screen in front of you blinks constantly, silently asking you when you’re going to start typing. This essay isn’t going to write itself, but you can’t seem to muster up enough willpower to actually start putting words onto the paper. In all honesty, it’s hard to work on homework lately. Being the Antichrist’s unwilling wife and knowing of his plans for the apocalypse really makes essays on Plato’s Allegory of the Cave seem trivial, if they weren’t already trivial before this ordeal started. So you stare at the screen, zoning out while occasionally nodding your head so that it seems like you’re invested in the conversation your friends are having.

You jump when a hand touches your shoulder, staring wide-eyed at the classmate sitting next to you. She’s nice and you’ve worked with her on a few projects for this particular class, but you don’t really talk to her when it doesn’t relate to school. She smiles comfortingly at you while the rest of the group stares at you, all with different levels of bewilderment on their faces.

“What?” You ask, trying to make it seem like you weren’t on a completely different wavelength.

“We’re all getting ready to leave and I asked if you were okay. You’ve been really off recently, no offense.” The same classmate, Kate, repeats.

“I’m fine, I’ve just had a lot on my mind recently.”

“I can tell.” She jokes, gesturing to your blank screen. “I’ll send you the notes and what I’m basing my essay off of, if you want?”

“That’d be great, thank you so much.” You reply gratefully.

You hurriedly pack all of your items in your bag, not wanting to hold the group up anymore than you already have. Luckily the parking lot of the cafe you all met up at is fairly small, which means your cars are all parked next to each other. Still, the trauma from what happened that fateful night in the library parking lot has you locking the doors, jamming your seatbelt into place and driving out of the parking lot almost before everybody else has even gotten their cars started.

It’s probably not the best idea to get Chinese takeout when you’re already on a budget and you definitely have leftovers at home, but you figure you can splurge a little bit tonight. The bag that you’re carrying has you tempted to just sit in your car outside of your apartment and eat it all, but that’d be a little difficult since you have no utensils with you. So you make the trek to your apartment, which seems ever-longer with the food basically calling your name.

Unlocking your door and turning on the lights, the first thing that you see is that your cat is once again on the table, a habit that you’ve been trying to curtail for a few days now. The second thing you see, Michael Langdon petting said cat, has all thought of complaining fleeing your head.

“Jesus Christ!” You gasp, throwing your hands up in fright at the surprise intrusion. By some miracle, your food doesn’t go flying everywhere, so you place your things on the table before you do ‘accidentally’ throw them at Michael.

“Kind of the opposite, actually.” Michael smirks, placing his hands behind his back and walking towards you in the way that you hate so much.

“Michael, what the fuck are you doing here?” You huff, crossing your arms in front of your chest. “It’s Thursday, you’re literally going to see me tomorrow.”

You had actually kind of been expecting for him to show up somewhere in your life. After eating a single bite of toast before rushing out the door after your early weekend last Saturday, you knew he had been pissed. That much had been made clear when he called you Monday, as well as yesterday. A little bit of warning would have been nice, though.

“Well, seeing as how I already used my allotted two calls for the week,” his nose scrunches in distaste at the rule you had set, “I decided that I would drop in and see how my beautiful wife is doing. You never told me you had a cat.” He mentions when the little brat starts rubbing her head against Michael’s hand, begging for attention.

“It never came up in conversation.” You mutter, pushing past him so that you can take back the control of your apartment. “You dropped in, saw I’m fine, got to pet my cat; can you go now?”

Michael pouts teasingly before shrugging.

“Are you really just going to kick me out like that? You’re not a very good hostess, (Y/N).” You squeeze your eyes shut and clench your jaw, patience wearing thin with each second that Michael remains in your home.

Maybe if you had had some forewarning, been given some time to prepare for having to be around him, you wouldn’t be getting so angry. But now, not only has he invaded your home, he refuses to leave as well. Even worse is that stupid fucking smirk that is ever-present on his face. God, if you knew there wouldn’t be any consequences, you’d love to knock that look right off of his face (and maybe a few teeth out, too, although you’re sure that his Antichrist powers would grow them back right away).

“Look. I’m tired, hungry, I have a mountain of homework to do and I still have to finish my laundry. All I want to do is eat my dinner, maybe watch some Netflix while I work on homework, and then go to bed. Please, Michael, just go home.” You plead with him.

“I can help you, you know. Or you could just quit school and mo-”

“What happened to letting me have my alone time?” You question, reminding him of the contract you just went over less than a week ago. The smile fades off of his face as his blue eyes turn to a steely color, and you watch as he clenches and unclenches his fists repeatedly.

“I don’t ask for much from you, (Y/N), just for you to cherish and obey me.” You glower at him when he comes closer, attempting to push him away, but he snatches your wrists easily in one of his large hands. “Do you know how many men-- how many women worship my father? How many of them would have thrown themselves at my feet for a chance to be my bride? But no, my father had to make you as my soulmate. You, a stubborn, whiny little bitch who can’t just shut up and be grateful for the position of power you’re currently in.”

You yank your hands out of his grasp, and before you can even process it he slaps you across the face. One of his large rings caught against your lip, and you bring a hand to your face to catch the blood that’s starting to pool on the floor. Poking your tongue out at your lip, you can feel how it’s already starting to swell from the force of Michael’s hit. The man in question holds his hands up by his head, eyes wide as he pants loudly. He repeatedly shakes his head, like he’s trying to convince both you and him that he didn’t mean to hit you.

“(Y/N)-” He’s silenced when you spit at him. It lands on his cheek, and you watch with eyes blazing as the mixture of saliva and blood trails down his face.

“Get the fuck out of my apartment.” You don’t look him in the eyes, instead choosing to focus on the blood you’re cupping in your hands. When he doesn’t move, you start to yell. “Leave! I swear to God, if you don’t leave, I’ll get my landlord up here and he’ll haul your ass out!”

The door never opens, but when you look up again he’s disappeared. You’re still beyond pissed, but the adrenaline is wearing off and the throbbing in your lip is starting to become more prominent. Stumbling off to the bathroom, you get a washcloth and hold it to your lip to stop the bleeding. Somehow the cut’s not deep, it just landed in an area that produces a lot of blood. You get cleaned up fairly quickly, and within twenty minutes you’re laying on the couch with an ice pack pressed to your lip. The cat sits on your lap, kneading your thighs with her little paws.

“Next time he shows up here, claw his eyes out, okay?” You request. She blinks her large eyes at you once before yawning and rubbing her nose. “Thanks.”

Your phone chimes with a text message that you almost ignore, thinking that it’s Michael. When the name on the text isn’t just the devil emoji that you use for him and is, instead, the name of your best friend, you unlock your phone.

“Hey girl! Thirsty Thursday tonight @ Stadium House, you in?”

Stadium House, the frat house closest to the campus’ football stadium (nobody ever said frat boys were good at naming things), offers what is arguably the best Thirsty Thursday you’ve ever experienced. Frat parties aren’t normally something you enjoy going to, choosing instead to do your social drinking at friends’ houses. Even though they’re not normally your scene, you still find yourself mulling over the idea. It’s been a while since you even drank, let alone went out with your friends and drank. Besides, after the hellish past few weeks, partying doesn’t sound like a bad idea.

“Sure, we riding together?” Within seconds, she’s responded.

“OMG YAY REALLY??? Yeah we’re getting a Lyft. Wanna come over to mine and get ready/pregame?”

“Be over in 10.” You reply.

Since you both live in the same building, all you had to do is get everything together and take the elevator to her floor. The cat, although not pleased that you’re standing, quickly settles down again in your spot as you go to put the ice pack back in the freezer. As you gather the ‘essentials’ for a night out, you realize that this is the first time you’ve been genuinely excited for something since the day you were kidnapped. Locking your door behind you, you head out with a purpose: to get fucked up. Classily fucked up, but still fucked up.

Stadium House is just like you remember it from the last party you attended, which would have been almost a year ago. It’s insanely loud, with enough bass to make your teeth shake. There’s an insane amount of people that you’re sure violates some sort of fire code, none of the furniture matches, and there’s enough booze to give the entire school alcohol poisoning.You’re already mildly buzzed, the alcohol that you pregamed making you feel a good kind of fuzzy. Making your way into the kitchen to grab a beer takes twice the time that it normally would since inebriated-you likes to hug everyone that you see.

“(Y/N)!” A voice shouts. You turn around to see Kate waving at you, beckoning you towards her. “Hey! Thought you didn’t come to these types of parties?”

“Normally I don’t, but tonight I decided to.”

“God, what happened to your lip? Did somebody punch you?” You almost forgot about the cut on your face, having covered it with enough makeup to hide the bruising and swelling.

“Oh, I tripped and busted my face against the stairs earlier today.” Kate grimaces, but obviously believes it.

“Well hopefully that means you won’t bust your face while you’re drunk. Anyways, you wanna play pong with me? I need a partner.” You shrug before nodding, letting her take your hand and lead you to the living room.

All of the couches are pushed up against the walls, allowing people to sit and catch their breaths. There’s a long table set up in the middle of the room, the classic red cups creating pyramids on each side.

“Katie, you found someone!” Kate giggles and blushes when a guy slings his arm around before kissing her cheek.

“(Y/N), this is my boyfriend, Brennan. Brennan, this is (Y/N).” You both wave at each other awkwardly. “Oh my God B, do you know who (Y/N) would be absolutely great with? Lucas!”

Brennan chuckles at the look on your face.

“Kate likes to play matchmaker when she’s drunk.” He explains. “Go play then, everyone’s waiting on you.”

Kate pouts before kissing Brennan and jogging around to the side of the table that you’ve already migrated towards. Picking up a Solo cup, you glance inside to see what the poison of choice is tonight. One sniff of the clear liquid tells you that it’s vodka, and definitely not the good kind. Kate fakes a gag when you hold the cup under her nose, making you giggle.

“Guess we’ll have to play extra good, then.”

Both teams suck, but you somehow manage to eke out the win. Even with the win, you still had to down an ungodly amount of vodka. Couple that with the two beers you’ve had since starting the game, and you’re definitely feeling the effects. Everything has you laughing, from the posters on the wall and your opponents’ jokes to the outfits of some of the women here and how they all line the walls, looking for their prey. You and Kate had almost collapsed against each other when the familiar chorus of ‘oh fuck, shit, BITCH’ coursed through the entirety of the frat house. Another side effect of being drunk is just how loud you are. You know that you’re nearly yelling whenever you open your mouth, but you’ll be damned if people don’t hear what you have to say.

After the game is over, you end up heading outside to get some fresh air. A good number of people have the same idea as you, standing together in small groups. Pushing past a couple making out, you lean against the wall and pull your phone out of your back pocket. There’s a few notifications from various social medias, mainly your friends tagging you in their stories. Unfortunately, there’s also a text from Michael that simply reads ‘I’m sorry.’ The sensible part of you that remains sober tells you to not do what you’re thinking of, but since that part of you is stupid, you click on Michael’s contact anyways. It only rings twice before he picks up the phone, which makes you roll your eyes.

“Hey, are you okay? I’m so sorry about what happened earlier, I shouldn’t have done that and I’ll never do anything like that again.” You hear the words that he’s saying, but they don’t actually register with you while you wait to finally speak.

“Y’know, you’re the--the biggest jerk I’ve ever met!” You huff, sitting down on top of the cool grass.

“I know, and I deserve th-”

“No no no, mister, you listen to ME! All my friends’ boyfriends are so fucking nice, and they care about their girlfriends, and they certainly didn’t kidnap them. One of my friends even told me there’s a guy she knows that’d be--that’d be perfect for me!” You pause to take a sip of the beer in your hand. “But I had to say no, all because I’m married to the fucking Ant-Anti-crust!”

Michael’s silent while you ramble on, waiting patiently for you to finish. You snicker at your oh-so-clever wordplay, repeating ‘Anti-crust’ quietly to yourself.

“(Y/N)...are you drunk?” You sigh, humming a tune that you’re not quite sure of while you look up at the sky.

“A little bit, yeah.”

“Stay where you are, I’m going to come and get you. And don’t hang up the phone!”

“You’re so lame, Michael.” You groan loudly.

“I know I am, so incredibly lame.” He agrees with you.

“Whatever, I gotta tell my friends I’m leaving, ‘else they’ll think I got kidnapped...again.” Stumbling to your feet, you squint your eyes to spot your friends. Sure enough, the three of them are all sitting on the couch under the large oak tree. What is it with frat guys leaving couches outside? Is that like a requirement for frats?

“Why is there a couch outside?” Michael asks incredulously, and you clap a hand over your mouth when you realize that you said that out loud.

“Oops.” Your friends all wave to you, and you fall sideways on top of their laps. “H-hey guys!”

“(Y/N), where the hell did you go?”

“Oh, I kicked ASS at pong. Did you know that I’m good at pong? ‘Cuz I didn’t know I was good at pong.” Your mumble, reaching a hand up to stroke your friend’s cheek. “Anyways, I gotta go. My husband is gonna pick me up.”

You can hear Michael gasp as your friends all laugh and giggle.

“Fuck off, you don’t have a husband!” You’re about to argue before you remember that you totally should not have said that.

“You’re right, I don’t have a husband.” You agree, sobering up long enough to panic before realizing that they’re just going to think you’re joking. “Anyways, my...friend Michael is gonna pick me up.”

“(Y/N)’s gonna get DICK tonight!” She yells, making them all cheer loudly.

Before you can argue, a sleek black sports car pulls up. Michael doesn’t even have to unroll the windows for you to know that it’s him; nobody else would be driving around in a college neighborhood with a car like that. Your friends help push you up, and you grab all of your stuff from where you threw it on the ground. Your goodbyes are all long and exaggerated, all of them hugging you and kissing your cheeks before letting you leave.

You throw open the car door dramatically, sliding not-so-gracefully inside. Michael stares at you, and if you were more sober you’d try and attempt to figure out what he’s thinking. Instead you give him a wide smile, waving excitedly while you try to buckle up.

“Here, let me help you.” He says finally, easily buckling you up.

“Thank youuuuuu!” You sing out, leaning back against the cool leather.

“I, uh, brought you a water.” He hands you a bottle of water, making you gasp excitedly.

“How did you know I was thirsty! You’re the best, Mikey!” You open the bottle easily and down half the bottle in one go.

“Don’t call me that.” He’s obviously not too impressed with having to pick you up, but whatever.

“But-but I like calling you Mikey! It’s my nickname for you! Isn’t that what married couples do? They have nicknames for each other!” You argue while Michael maneuvers through the deserted streets.

He decides that keeping silent is the best course of action, which makes you pout. There’s no music on, and the only sound you can hear is the engine purring. His eyes are focused on the road ahead, so you decide to creep your hand up to touch his hair, which is something you’ve always wanted to do. He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, and you’re pretty sure he thinks you’re going to hit him. He flinches when your hand lands in his hair, sending you into another round of giggles while you feel his golden curls.

“So soft.” You mutter to yourself, running your hand through his hair. “Mikey, I’m gonna need you to drop your haircare routine.”

“Tomorrow.”

“We’re at my apartment! How do you know where I live?”

“I was here four hours ago.” You hum, nodding.

“Riiiiiight.” You basically fling yourself out of the car, bouncing on your heels while you wait for Michael to catch up to you.

He politely slides his arm around yours, keeping you steady while you both make your way to your apartment. Standing still in the elevator makes you realize just how tired you are and you yawn repeatedly and rub your eyes, undoubtedly smudging your eye makeup.

“Drink the rest of your water, please.” Michael requests, gesturing to the near-empty bottle you’re still holding.

You do as he says, letting him guide you to your apartment door. He opens it without using a key, and you look at him with wide eyes.

“Oh no, did I leave the door unlocked?”

“No (Y/N), I unlocked it with my magic.”

“That’s right, I forgot about that! That’s how you left so quickly after you slapped the shit outta me.” Michael winces at your words, but you ignore him and walk into the apartment. “Hi, kitty kitty!” You greet the cat, who doesn’t even bother to wake up.

“Go get some pajamas on, I want to make sure you make it to bed alright before I leave.” You glare at him, but do as he says. When the cat hears his voice, she eagerly jumps up and hops off of the couch, padding towards him and meowing. You stop at the sight, mouth hanging open while he crouches down to pet the cat.

“What the fuck?” You whisper, and Michael has to stifle a laugh when tears start to fill your eyes. “You little traitor.”

Michael remains on the floor while you get changed, giving his attention to the small cat. When it’s been a couple of minutes with no sign of you, he begins to get a little concerned. What trouble can a drunk person get up to when they’re just getting changed. Michael stands up, cautiously making his way to your bedroom. If you are still changing he really doesn’t want to walk in on you, knowing that there will be absolute hell to pay. His concerns are instantly wiped away when he sees you laying in your bed, eyes already closed.

“(Y/N).” Michael whispers, shaking your shoulder. You groan and try to push him away. “(Y/N), you still have makeup on.”

He’s not sure you string together a full sentence, but he does make out the words ‘makeup wipes’ and ‘bathroom,’ which is all that he needs. Thankfully you left the package of makeup wipes on the counter before you left for the evening. Pulling one out of the package, he walks back into your room and crouches next to you. Your nose crinkles at the feeling of the cool cloth against your skin, and your eyes flutter open before closing so he can take your eye makeup off. When he reaches your bottom lip and chin, he frowns.

“I am so sorry.” He apologizes before he starts cleaning your lipstick off. You both know that he’s not just apologizing for the hiss of pain that escapes your mouth.

“You’re so mean, you know that?” You mumble, licking your chapped lips while Michael examines the damage.

“I shouldn’t have done that. I don’t know why I did that. I’ve never hit anyone before.” He’s telling the truth; he’s murdered people and animals before, obliterated people’s souls, but he’s never slapped anyone. If there’s one useful thing his grandma taught him while growing up, it’s that you never hit a woman.

“You did it because you’re mean.”

“I promise you, (Y/N), that I’ll never lay a hand on you like that again.” You look at him from under your lashes, causing his heart to clench painfully.

“I’ll hold you to that.” Your eyes close again, and Michael gets up to throw the makeup wipe away.

When he comes back into your room, you’re already asleep. Michael smiles at the small snores that escape you and how absolutely comfy you look, slipping out to grab you some water and pain meds for the morning. Placing it on your bedside table, he spares one last glance at you before going to leave, petting the cat once more and disappearing again.

Tag List: @sammythankyou @let-me-try-mom @ultragibbycentralworld@sebastianshoe @nana15774 @queencocoakimmie @lichellaw @grim-adventures58 @dandycandy75 @trimbooohgodplsnoooo @alexcornerblog@everything-is-awesomesauce @ccodyfern @jimmlangdon @dolceandchalamet @omgsuperstarg @queenie435 @dextergirl12345 @americanhorrorstudies@sloppy-little-witch-bitch26 @coloursunlimited @punkysouls @kahhlo@storminmytwistedmind @1-800-bitchcraft @langdonsdemon @langdonslove @carousallie @cuddletothecake

#michael langdon #michael langdon x reader #michael langdon imagines #Michael Langdon imagine #ahs #ahs apocalypse #ahs imagine #american horror story #american horror story imagine #American horror story apocalypse

[cordoniasmost]

Crash and Burn - Part One

Story: MoTY

Pairing: Guy x Vanessa / Thomas x MC

Word Count: 1512

Warnings: Graphic death, NSFW, language

Summary: Post-trial, Guy and Vanessa go on a trip that doesn’t end like they think it will.

Author’s Note: I know, I know. The pairing is giving us all WTF vibes, but hear me out. No way will PB give us the satisfying death Guy and Vanessa deserve so I wanted to write it out here. This was inspired by a convo with @desiree-0816​. Yes, I Googled “What are the worst ways to die” as research for this piece. You’re welcome. It’s going to be two parts.

(I tried to use the [more] feature but it wouldn’t work so sorry for the length in your feed...)

Tag List: @furiouscloddonutpeanut​ @averysheart-raleighsdick​ @dr-brianna-casey-valentine​ @desiree-0816​

The Hawaiian Islands.

Guy knew he’d end up here someday. Making millions of dollars selling snack foods to yuppies gave him the pathway to achieving the greatness he knew was always inside of himself. A satisfied smirk broke out across his face.

The flight took forever, but at no point had he wished for a co-pilot. As soon as his flight instructor began to insist he needed someone else to share the burden of this journey, he’d shut down.

Needed.

He scoffed. Like he was some helpless child. No, he’d show him. Now his gaze wandered across the horizon, taking in the lush, green landscape, and the turquoise water below his plane. The islands swept out below him, and from this altitude, he could see them all.

He glanced to the co-pilot seat, his eyes raking down the fiery auburn hair and slim figure of his only passenger. Guy still couldn’t believe she agreed to come along and leave her sons with their father. He planned to make the most of the opportunity now that he found himself single again.

He yelled into the headset both of them wore to hear over the buzzing of the plane’s engines. 

“Ready for this, V?”

She narrowed her eyes at him, turning her nose up haughtily. “I’m ready for some alone time on a white sand beach with a cocktail sipped from a coconut if that’s what you’re asking.”

He chuckled. “Sure. Alone time. That’s why you were all over me during the trial.”

She rolled her eyes. “I may have fought dirty, but it’s because I like to win, and I wanted that bitch of an ex-wife of yours to suffer. It had nothing to do with you.”

He turned back to the plane’s console, preparing to radio in their descent. “Right. My ex-wife forced you to blow me during the late-night trial prep sessions you insisted on.”

“I don’t seem to remember you complaining.” Vanessa turned back to stare out the window.

Guy grew hard at the memory of that night. This week, he’d convince Vanessa to be his fuck buddy at a minimum. He could be persuasive when he wanted something, and he always got what he wanted. 

As they approached the volcanic island, a shudder ran through the body of the plane, shaking Guy out of his thoughts. The constant beeping of an alarm rang out, filling the cabin with an unsettling energy. 

Just as he began to check the instrument panel, a sharp crack thundered through the plane, and it listed to one side, smoke billowing throughout the cabin.

“Oh, fuck!” he shouted, ripping his headset off. 

He couldn’t see, the smoke surrounded him entirely. His stomach lurched as the nose of the plane tilted downward, the sound of rushing air silencing the blaring alarm. He faintly heard Vanessa scream beside him, but the wind carried the sound away before it could really register.

“No, no, no,” he chanted, unsure what to do to fix the situation. His survival instinct kicked in, and he stood, running blindly to the back of the plane, hands stretched out before him searching for anything that could save them. He grabbed what felt like a backpack and, assuming it was a parachute, slung it over his back. 

Clipping the harness around himself, he yelled, “V! I’ve got a chute. Let’s get the fuck out of here!”

He hoped she heard him, but he’d be jumping in about thirty seconds with or without her. He groped his way to the emergency exit door, straining his muscles with effort as he turned the handle. He pressed against the door, but it didn’t budge.

Vanessa stumbled against him, gripping his arm. 

“Please tell me you found a way off this goddamn thing! I am not dying here with you!”

Guy briefly considered letting her find her own way off the plane but thought better of it when he remembered how her lips felt wrapped around his cock. If he made it out of this, he’d have to waste time finding someone else to spend the week with.

“I’ve got a parachute. Turn around,” Guy commanded, pushing her shoulder until she spun, pressing her back to his front. Guy clipped her into the harness attached to him. 

“We’ve gotta get the door off!” he yelled over the rushing air. The plane was precariously tilted at a sharp nose-down angle in a full dive, and he suspected they only had seconds before it slammed into the ground or, more likely, the ocean.

“What do we do?” Vanessa’s eyes were frantic and wild, her chest heaving with the effort to breathe through the panic.

“When I tell you to, shove your weight against the door.”

She nodded, and her body trembled against his, but he couldn’t focus on how good she felt right now. He needed to make sure they survived first, then he could go back to thinking with his dick.

“Ready? Push!” They ran the few steps to the door together and rammed their left shoulders into the heavy metal as hard as they could. The door gave way, and before Guy could process, they were free-falling through the sky, tumbling end over end.

He flexed his muscles, forcing his body rigid to stop the end-over-end rolling so he could take stock of their situation. He had never skydived before and had no idea what he was doing. 

Vanessa failed wildly, and he tried grabbing her arms to keep her still, but she was hysterical. 

She’s going to get us killed.

He pulled his hand back and slammed it across her face. She immediately went limp against her harness. 

So. Much. Better.

At least now, he could hear himself think. As he flattened them out, he glanced around, noticing how fast the forest-covered mountain was rising up below them. He threw his hand out, frantically searching for the ripcord to deploy the parachute.

That’s how these work, right? Fuck.

He’d only ever seen skydiving in movies, but it had to work. His movements grew more frantic as the seconds ticked by, and he realized he was quickly dropping into the center of what was apparently a volcano, the glowing red magma already giving off enough heat that the warmth coated his skin even at this distance.

He threw his hands as far back as he could, his shoulders aching with the strain of his muscles, and his joints popped as Guy pushed his arms to their limits, but still he came up empty-handed.

“FUCK!” he screamed into the vast sky surrounding him.

Beads of sweat broke out across his forehead as the heat directly below became intense. His mind became frenzied. His thoughts were no longer clear, scenarios running through his mind so quickly he couldn’t manage to focus on anything. Every idea that popped up dissolved almost immediately as it came in like a wisp of smoke blowing away in the wind.

Vanessa still laid unconscious against his chest, and he wondered if unbuckling her would give him momentum to propel himself away from the lava directly beneath him, lava which was now so close that his skin was dripping with sweat.

Guy made one last attempt to find the ripcord, shifting his weight to pull the bag to the side. Finally, he made contact, his hand closing around the black cord even as his skin began to blister. He yanked the cord and heaved out a sigh as the chute poured out of the pack on his back, spreading out and catching the breeze. His stomach dropped as he and Vanessa were jerked upwards.

Guy closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to try and slow his racing heart. His pulse slowed, and his eyes popped open in surprise as they began to swing side to side. He raised his eyes to the parachute and breathed in sharply as he took in the holes starting to form in the nylon fabric.

Smoke began to rise from the holes before flames licked up across the sail. His eyes dropped to below where the glowing orange magma bubbled and sparked, his heart rate skyrocketing again as he realized his last hope was quite literally going up in flames.

I’m going to die. Fuck.

The realization washed over him, and rather than his life flashing before his eyes, he got angry. 

How could this have happened to me? I’m Guy motherfucking Ledford.

Just feet stood between Guy and his end, and, as he began to roar, Vanessa suddenly regained consciousness, her screams piercing his ears. Neither of them could focus on anything but the immense heat overwhelming them now, their skin bubbling and melting as they sank further into the glowing orange liquid bubbling below.

Their cries of agony echoed off the rocky walls until silence descended once again, the peaceful quiet of the gently bubbling magma the only sound outside of the distant rhythm of waves crashing on the white sand. Their lives were now nothing but a series of memories easily forgotten.

#moty #choices moty #moty guy #moty vanessa #pb choices #choices fanfiction #choices fanfic #moty fanfic #mother of the year #thomas x mc #guy x vanessa

[prorevenge]

Destroy my childhood, ruin my chance at college, and laugh when I said I was homeless? Lol cool, I'll ruin your life.

Long story. TL;DR at the end.

BACKSTORY: My mother was a really shitty person. I have 4 other siblings. One older sister, 3 way younger, 3 different dads. Before I was born (im a male btw), my oldest sister was taken away from my mother when she was a few months old because she tried to stab/slice the father of my sister WHILE HE WAS HOLDING HER. She lost custody and the dude left her. Older sister goes to live with her fathers family in a different city. CUE LIL OL ME COMING INTO THIS SEXY WORLD. My dad went to jail 2-3 years after I was born for a while, I rarely saw him. He's an alcoholic if that matters. She was a single mother but she made it work and she worked hard. One of the bigger problems was that she took out all her agression and hatred of my father on me as well as work stress and etc. She dealt with sexual abuse growing up which I'm sure definitely affected her relationships and how she treated me as well. Anyways...

Cue me being abused from the age of 4-5 to about 17. Every day was hell. She was extremely strict and her perspective was warped. She was also pretty big in stature and had alot of strength. Examples of her being shitty: I've gotten beaten up badly once because HER room was dirty. The dishes weren't washed and I got beaten soon as I got home, even if there werent dishes when I left to school. If i walked too loud, id get my ass beat. She broke my nose for looking at her the wrong way on my 10th birthday when she brought me a cake I was allergic too(It had peanuts, she knows im slightly allergic but feigned ignorance..) It was more or less every day or every other day. She used her fists/elbows/extension cords/hangers/chairs/canes/bats/etc. Whatever she could find I was getting beaten with. I couldn't ever escape to my room for long because she would always call me every few minutes to get her things or to yell at me. She never drank or did drugs or anything. Whenever she was upset and I happened to be in front of her she'd kick me down the stairs to make me hurry up. She's put a knife to my neck before and had to be forcibly stopped by her bf of the time. Burned my christmas presents from other people (she didnt get me anything that year) and just other really shitty things. The only thing I will say, she tried really hard to make up for it with video games and electronics and etc. It didn't make a difference to me though, it never helped.

She controlled most aspects of my life. I got by with little petty revenges. Peeing in the lipton iced tea she drank. Rubbing her forks and spoons between ny buttcheeks before i served her dinner. Ignoring her screams for help when she had kidney stones (how tf am i supposed to help anyways??) But by the time i got to highschool I turned to alcohol. I resented her and the negative atmosphere affected who I was as a person. I started to be cold and uncaring. Calculated. She started kicking me out every few months telling me to find somewhere else to live by age 15. She sent me away to a different country for a year and tried to keep my passport but I made it back to the US with the help of the embassy and my step father (she'd already left by that time and found some other dude). I came back senior year with no credits for the prior grade which ended with me getting a GED. I spent most of the time i could with my best friend and started working shitty jobs. I was terrible at saving as i had accumulated loads of shitty habits while growing up so it didnt make much difference. She eventually told me that If i went to college, I would ALWAYS have a place to live until I finished. Cue my first 2 semesters at a 2 year college, I maintained a 3.7ish gpa. My teachers loved me and it was my escape. Towards the end of my 2nd semester during finals, i came home late one night around 10pm and my mother yanks the door open screaming in my face asking when I'll move out. I'm slightly drunk and decide to completely ignore her and walk to my room. If I opened my mouth, that day would be the day I blew up and cursed her out. I've rarely ever raised my voice at her because it never ended well. Now at this point im 19 and I've been doing school full time with no savings. Im also fairly fit and could easily take my mom at this point (Never laid a hand on her or any woman, i hate violence). I get to my room, she rips my door open, and starts yelling. I say nothing and stare at her. She walks away and called the police on me saying she thought id murder her and my younger siblings. I don't know where the fuck she got that idea from as she's the one who's nearly killed me many times.

I packed everything into a duffle bag and left 5 minutes afterwards. I failed all of my finals because I couldnt make it to my school. Things kinda spiraled and the next 2-3 years were me on and off homeless. I survived the best I could in a big city with no college degree and made alot of shitty choices due to my shitty habits. Eventually i found a profitable hobby that gave me meaning and through that i started to work my way up. Got my own apartment, had a full time job, and did my hobby on the side. I hadn't kept up contact with my mother at all but my younger sister who was old enough to have a phone found me on social media so i saw photos and such, she didn't have it anywhere near as bad but she did get beaten occasionally. My mother reached out via email all smiles asking how I've been. Now guys, ive always been envious of the relationship most ppl have with their moms so I gave her a chance and gave her a call. We talked for a few minutes and everything was civil and seemed like things would go okay but then...

She asked me what I've been up to the last few years and I told her honestly, that I was homeless for a while and struggled alot after what she did to me but I worked my way out of it. SHE LITERALLY LAUGHS. She laughed for a few seconds in a very condescending kinda chuckle and then said "I never did a thing to you so you don't know what abuse is! its your own damn fault you were homeless. So how about yo-" but by that point I hung up. I was speechless and fuming. I don't know what abuse is? OKAY BITCH. IVE SPENT TOO FUCKING LONG LETTING YOU DESTROY MY SANITY. NOW IS THE TIME.

There was a few things my mother didn't know. One, I knew for a fact that current well paying job she had was gotten on lies as she never got her college degree and lied about it on her resume. Two, I had access to all of her email accounts and cloud storage accounts since I was the one that set them up when I was younger and she never changes her passwords. Lastly, she DEFINITELY wasn't aware that from 13yrs old and onto the last time she hit me I took photos of ALL my bruises/marks/wounds/bloody noses saving them to my computer and then google drive. ON TOP OF THAT, my little sister had been sending me photos via social media of the bruises she got from my mom.

The first thing I did was compile ALL of those photos/videos into one folder. I then reached out to CPS in my city and explained that my siblings were being abused, how I was abused in the past, and that I had mountains of proof. Since ive called the cops on my mother before AND the thing that happened with my older sister, there was immediately a home visit. They arrived almost a day later with the police and coincidentally my mother was literally in the process of beating my younger sister when they were knocking. Cue an Emergency removal of all my siblings from the house and my mother getting arrested though she was released hours later. (I was getting a day to day play by play because my mothers best friend is a blabber mouth and everything my mother said she told her son who relayed it to me without either of their knowledge.) I sent CPS all the evidence and there's a legit case against my mother now. The next day I emailed and then called up her job to inform them that she had lied about having a very necessary college degree as well current events in her life which sparked a background check. She was fired days later. Say adios to 75k and a blacklist in the only industry you know how to work. I then spitefully deleted every cloud account and email address I ever made for her, which was all of them which im sure will make keeping up with alot bills and etc nearly impossible. I then anonymously reported her to the IRS because of the tax fraud she committed for years by claiming people's children that weren't hers with ALOT of detailed information since I lived with her while she did it.

So now, my mother lost all her kids and her job. Im meeting with a caseworker from CPS next week to talk more about what happens moving forward but I do know they're NOT going back. Idk how she's gonna pay her mortgage now and survive. I'm sure she's gonna get a call from the IRS who'll be looking for a few thousand dollars she owes them. She also has to go back to court in a few months, not exactly sure what she was charged with but ill update when I find out how everything turns out.

Side Note: She isn't aware im the cause of any of this. I plan on keeping tabs on her and waiting until it seems like she's close to death before I tell her it was all me and I peed in her lipton.

TL;DR - My mother abuses me badly for most of my life as well as my younger siblings. I have to drop out of college and support myself after she drove me to homelessness. She proceeds to laugh at me about me being homeless and denys abuse. So I ruined her life by getting my younger siblings removed and her arrested, making her lose her job, reported her to the IRS, and essentially set her up so that the remainder of her life is full of disaster and hardships.

(source) (story by howbout_that_lipton)

#prorevenge #by howbout_that_lipton #pro revenge #revenge stories #pro revenge stories #pro #revenge #revenge story #last10 #updated

[second-string-loser]

Tyrus x The Society

Okay second time is a charm! This is an AU where the Andi Mack characters are students from West Ham, Connecticut and they get caught up in the story of the Netflix original series, The Society. It helps to know the story of the show, but you dont have to in order to enjoy the fic. 

~

Chapter One- What Happened? 

Cyrus' head felt extremely heavy. This play felt like it was going to last forever, like seriously forever. He managed to power through the first half but after intermission he suddenly felt much more exhausted. He was only there to support Amber, who had managed to get almost everyone they knew to come watch the show. She wasn't even in the play very much. The leads were Harry and Cassandra, known for being the schools biggest rivals. But nonetheless Cyrus and the rest of his friends were there to cheer Amber on, no matter how minimal her role. 

Finally the house lights came up. However, Cyrus only knew the house lights had come up because Andi forcefully hit him over the head with her program to wake him up. He shook himself back into reality and stood up to go see Amber. 

They walked backstage, past where Cassandra and her sister were talking, and past where the stage crew was already putting things away all the way back to the dressing rooms. On their way there they saw what seemed to be Harry and some girl doing. . . well unspeakable things, but decided it was best for everyone if they just ignored it. 

In the dressing room everyone exchanged hugs, and congratulations to Amber. Even Buffy, who had definitely gotten much warmer towards her these past few years. Everyone had really, especially Andi. She'd never admit it, but there was most certainly a crush forming, maybe even a mutual one. 

After a few minutes of talking Cyrus decided to head out. He was about ready to start sleeping standing up and wanted to get home safely without dozing off at the wheel. So he said his goodbyes and left the way he came. Harry was no longer with his girl, instead he was arguing with Cassandra. What's new. Apparently there was a party that Cassandra wasn't invited to. Cyrus wasn't either, but that didn't bother him in the slightest. 

He slid past the rivals quarrel and out the double doors into the lobby. When he exited the building he was hit with a wave of an unpleasant, yet familiar smell.

"Oh god!" He exclaimed.

"Yeah," Came a voice from someone outside the door, "The smell's back."

Cyrus turned to see a boy leaning against the wall, one whom he recognized as Tj Kippen.  Cyrus didn't hate Tj, but there wasn't enough interactions between the two for him to form a good opinion either. Tj had just always been the staple jock that everyone knew. Captain of the basketball team, class clown, incredibly handsome. The boy was one big American high school cliche. 

"When did it come back?" Cyrus questioned, covering the bottom half of his face with his shirt. 

"Intermission. That's when I came out here. There wasn't a smell at first but then all of a sudden, it was just back. Like someone dropped a massive stink bomb on all of West Ham."

"Oh," Cyrus paused for a minute, unsure of whether he wanted to continue this conversation, "Can I ask why you came out of a play at intermission but never went back?" 

"Look Cyrus, that is your name right? You seem really cool, but I've never really talked to you. So I'm going to continue sitting here mysteriously and you can just go home, you look tired. Have a great night though, and make sure to keep your windows sealed tight." He said the last sentence with a chuckle. 

Cyrus looked down at his feet, "Thanks, you have a good night too." 

He started back to his car. What a weird interaction, certainly not one he expected to have tonight. 

~

Eight AM wasn't when Cyrus preferred to wake up on a Saturday, but today he found himself stumbling out of bed early in the morning. The Great Smoky Mountains field trip was today, and Cyrus was ecstatic to finally be going. His friends were already  spamming a group chat with excitement for the trip. 

Only upperclassmen are allowed on the trip so they've had two years to build up high expectations. Andi's had her bag packed for months. Cyrus on the other hand, packed his bag just last night. He gave it a once over, and once he made sure everything was there he headed out. His parents went with him to both say their goodbyes and so that his car wasn’t at the highschool for the entire duration of the trip.

Finally, after many hugs from all four parents, he was free to go meet his friends. Luckily they all got onto the same bus. But not as luckily, there were five of them and only two people could sit on a bench. A few days ago they figured out a fair way to see who’d sit alone, and Cyrus picked the short straw (literally, they drew straws). So he had to find his own seat while Andi, Buffy, Jonah, and Amber all sat together. 

After a few minutes of sitting alone, no one had tried to sit with him. He wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or offended. 

“Is this seat taken?” A familiar voice said, snapping Cyrus’ head towards the aisle. Tj was standing there, leaning on the seat in front of them. 

“Uh. . . no, it’s not. You can sit.” There was a moment of silence before Cyrus finally said something else, “Why did you want to sit with me? There’s tons of jocks in the back.”

“That’s the football team, I’m a basketball guy, we don’t really hang out. Plus, I’m honestly kind of scared of Clark. He seems really aggressive. What about you, you do any school activities.”  C

“Film Club,” Cyrus said, thinking that the topic of the conversation was being changed.

“Okay so if I asked you ‘Why don’t you go sit with the spanish club kids?’ You’d tell me no because you don’t know them. It’s the same for me, I don’t really know any of the football guys. Well except for Grizz, we have AP Literature together.”

“Wait, you take AP Lit?” From there the conversation flourished, there was never any awkward pauses or silences.

Cyrus was the first one to get drowsy, his answers to questions got slower and more nonsensical. Eventually the whole bus seemed to doze off, until the hissing of the bus doors opening woke them all up again. Cyrus’ head was leaning on Tj, but he quickly pulled away and hopen the other boy didn’t notice.

“Are we there?” Tj managed to say, while still waking up.

Cyrus looked out the window, and made out a figure that looked like his school, “I. . . I think we’re home.” He said, confused, and unsure of what was going on. 

“Change of plans, rock slide. The road was closed, you’re back home.” The bus driver said over the speaker. 

“Okay, well I’m gonna go back to my house. It was cool talking to you Cyrus.” Tj stood up from his seat and was the first one off. Cyrus found his friends, they were all pretty upset that the trip was canceled. They got off the bus and stood in the courtyard, where no one was waiting for them. 

“Maybe no one told our parents that we’d be back,” Amber suggested. That sounded rational, there was no reason for them to question it. 

So the group split up and all walked back to their own homes. West Ham was a safe New England town, there wasn’t a high crime rate that would’ve worried the kids. 

~

Back at his own home, he entered the door and quickly noticed that there was no one awake. That was strange because with his dad and step mom, someone was always working late or watching TV until midnight. He went up to their room, but they were nowhere to be found. Before he could even begin to question what was happening, his phone started to go crazy. Messages were spamming in at a mile a minute. It seemed that every kid from the field trip had been put in a group chat, and everyone was talking at the same time. 

Harry: people are saying their families are gone, anyone else notice that?

That was the first message, and from there everyone went crazy. It seemed that the entire town was just gone. Save for those who were on the busses. The busses had also disappeared, along with their drivers. No one knew what was going on or what to think, and the chat wasn’t helping anything. 

Cassandra: This isn’t helping! Everyone come back to the courtyard and we can see what’s happening. 

Cyrus wasn’t sure what to think. He needed his friends to help get his mind cleared. So he texted their smaller group chat, which was much more calm.

Cyrus: Are your houses empty too? Andi: Yeah. Both mine and Cece’s house. What the hell is happening? Jonah: Maybe we should go to the courtyard. Thats where everyone else is going. Amber: Yeah. I’ll meet you guys there. 

He put his shoes back on and headed right back out of his door, down the way he walked home and towards the courtyard. When he got there Andi and Jonah had already made it, so he found them to try and get more information. Someone had brought some beer, and it was being passed around, but Cyrus refrained. 

In the middle of their conversation, a loud voice boomed, “The fucking church is open!” and everyone ran to get inside. They probably figured that a church would be an amazing place for a party. Which it kind of turned out to be. There were speakers, and places to sit, if it weren’t so sinful there’d be parties in the church all the time. More and more people showed up, and more and more people brought booze. Eventually everyone was trashed. 

The other four were off dancing and drinking, while Cyrus stayed by the wall, completely sober. One person should stay responsible, he thought. Then, drunkenly, Tj stumbled over towards him. 

“Hey! Little guy. What’s up, you don’t look like you’re having any fun,” He leaned against the wall next to Cyrus in order to keep himself up. 

“I’m having a great time, I love watching people, observing them.” 

“Well I like observing you.” Tj looked into Cyrus’ eyes and sat there for a moment. Then he leaned in quickly kissed the other boy. He leaned away and stared once again. 

“You can’t just do that,” Cyrus said under his breath.

“Yeah. Well I did. Okay little guy, see ya later.” He pushed himself away from the wall and staggered away. 

Cyrus felt like he’d had enough for one night, so he let his friends know he was leaving and went back to his house. It was strange that none of his family were home, but he managed to fall asleep okay. 

~

Because he’d had to get up so early the day before Cyrus decided to sleep in today, and for a moment he’d forgotten that the people of his hometown had disappeared. The large group chat was spamming like crazy, so he checked to see what all the fuss was about. 

Campbell: Bad news, we’re fucked. The borders are nothing but woods, it’s like the real world completley fucking disapeared. 

Luke: We’re putting together a party to go out and see what’s beyond the borders lmk if you’re up for it

A few people had replied that they were interested, but Cyrus only took notice of one person. 

Tj: I’m in

He wasn’t sure why, but Tj going on the search party made him really nervous. 

~

Cassandra had organized for a town meeting that night. She was worried that since there were no adults or rule makers, people would go crazy. And she was right, people were raiding the stores to steal all the food. Hell, someone already stole all the carrots.

All five kids had been at Cece’s house all day, just talking and trying to wrap their heads around what was going on. Jonah was stuck on theories of what was happening. His favorite was that aliens took their town to a dense forest but left all the people in Connecticut. Cyrus could tell that the constant speculation was really just a coping mechanism because he was scared of what really could’ve happened. 

At 7 o’clock sharp everyone was gathered in the church for the meeting. Everyone was arguing, mostly Cassandra and Harry. The group agreed mostly with Cassandra, that they should share their belongings in order to preserve resources.

“Me and Cyrus have two houses each, there’s no reason we should just keep them to ourselves.” Andi made a good point to the rest of the kids. Although, it only stirred up more controversy. Soon there was nothing but constant noise, no one could discern what anyone else was saying. Until. . .

BANG 

A gun fired. People turned to see Campbell, known for being quite unstable, holding the gun. He argued some more, and more. Really no different from before, but now everyone was aware he had a gun. The fighting didn’t stop again until the church doors swung open. The search party had returned, and they were carrying a body. 

They cleared off the beer cans and red solo cups off of a table and set her down. 

“She died from a snake bite,” Luke said, through tears, “We did everything we could but we couldn’t save her.” 

A murmur spread throughout the crowd. Everyone was mortified. 

“Do you guys all want to stay at Cece’s house tonight? I feel like we shouldn’t be alone.” Andi offered. The rest of them replied through silent nods. Amber leaned her head on Andi’s shoulder with glossy eyes, and then they all filed out of the church. Outside, Cyrus saw an unpleasant sight. Tj was sitting on the ground with his head in his hands. 

“Hey,” he tapped Andi on the shoulder, “I’ll meet up with you in a bit I’m just gonna go grab some stuff from my house.” He walked over and slid down next to Tj. “are you okay.” No response. “That was probably pretty hard for you, I’m really sorry you had to see that.”

“Thanks I guess. I still don’t really think I’ve processed what happened. I kinda don’t wanna talk about it.” When he pulled his head from his hands Cyrus could see tear streaks and puffy eyes. 

“Okay, sorry I bothered you,” Cyrus said, then stood up to leave. 

“No wait!” Tj grabbed his arm. “I don’t want to talk about it, but I still want to talk to you. You’re the only person I want to talk to, actually,” Cyrus’ face softened into a smile and he sat back down. He put his head on Tj’s shoulder and let the conversation flow.

~

Tag List: @abg-blah @tjwatchesskam @luzawithoutu @ifcknly @shipsforsail

#tyrus #andi mack #tyrus fic

[incarnateirony]

So anyway, life updates on what I’ve talked about good, bad, and vagueblog.

But I introduce you to Betty White, or the Millennium Falcon, name pending.

Most of yall know that I’m on disability, dealing with some massively janky medical issues that Alabama’s bottom-ranked health care system doesn’t even know how to cover, and my wifey blew a disc in her neck at work, essentially debilitating her, too, but also earning a small settlement. In scale of it, 25K -- 21 after lawyer fees -- isn’t really much to do anything with.

So we had already known we had to fix up and sell the house and thought, hey, the land value went up substantially out here, we can pocket and flip it and be hella good.

Until her father finally came out here and in long story short, found out that the inspector that ran through this house when my wife first bought it (during our breakup period YEARS ago) didn’t do his job and it’d be 20-30K worth of repairs to even sell this place at the value her loan is for, meaning we pretty much have to short sell it to get out from under it. I mean bad shit. Fire hazard wiring and rotting roof and siding element under shiny things that hid it that have clearly been deteriorating since long before the house got a lipstick job.

So we went and found an RV, because it’s time to go. We have to GO. We have to get out of this state. There’s nothing for us here. There’s no medical care, there’s no worker protections, being LGBT women we’re extra up a creek in the area, it’s just bad. So RV it was! But finding one in the now suddenly cramped budget with the house turning up bunk entirely was FUN.

But like a stroke of providence I happened to find a listing the day it was upgraded on what has been jokingly referred to by my friends as the Millennium Falcon of RVs. 

It came from an older couple, almost 60, that had been RVing for a few years, and the thing was already used when they bought it. It’s a friggin 1994. It’s old, it’s Chonk. But it was a project RV they decided to start on and while it has a solid AF 454 engine in it,

 they’ve over a few years put in just about New Everything. New transmission, new air brakes, new air bags, new radiator, new septic lines, new alternator, new battery, new steering and suspension, new new new new new. Modified backup camera that tracks engine temp/tire pressure/etc like modern dashes and stays on constantly instead of just when backing up. It has its little hijinks with the in-n-out stairs being funky and the generator is a funny little bit because they didn’t want to spend 8K+ on a generator for an old RV so they got one that’s an external mount, which I imagine is why it was having a hard time selling.

Atop that inside the wife went bananas and got rid of the shitty old wallpaper and painted it bright colors different on every wall, removed the space consuming fold out couch since they didn’t need an extra bed and installed an armoire-storage-couch-thing that takes up half the outter floor space, stuff like that.

This was their baby and they intended to keep this baby and did great work on this baby, and the second I saw it in the advert, I knew it, because the images weren’t all spit cleaned sales stuff, it was vacation images with their shit still hanging inside it and their party lawn with their sports teams and stuff and the shiny lights they added on it to make it a party bus like

So anyway it turned out they basically got conned into getting a newer shinier one and just wanted to get the fuck OUT of Alabama but because of the generator and age it wasn’t selling at market value which was about 15K even as old as it is, and had price gouged it down to *8500*

Thought it was too good to be true, got our old construction and mechanic friend go out out there and go over it with a fine toothed comb and this thing, as he put it “goddamn if I had the money, I’d buy it myself, what the hell, you ain’t gonna get anything better for that price, hell, you ain’t gonna get anything as good for the price” THEY JUST WANTED TO GET OUT OF ALABAMA. And I mean, MOOD, BIG MOOD.

In fact the money they were asking for was basically to pay off loans and costs on all the New Stuff they put into it to begin with.

Because of them basically gouging their asking price in half an old lady had come to see it same day and at first the husband was like WHOEVER GETS US THE MONEY FIRST but talking to us the wife was like HELL NO THAT OLD LADY COULD BARELY GET IN THE THING SHES JUST GONNA DRIVE IT DOWN TO FLORIDA AND LET IT ROT THIS IS OUR BABY THESE GIRLS NEED TO TAKE CARE OF IT AND THEY WILL and she ran interference through the weekend until our mechanic friend could go check it out.

You might ask “if you have a buttload of money why an RV” but in trying to get out of Alabama and all the way back to Oregon where I literally KNOW I can make it work out in life for us, for reasons that are a whole story unto themselves, the moving costs cross country alone for a uhaul would be expensive AF. Downpayments. Finding pet friendly apartments. And then whether it was portland or somewhere else we could get STUCK. And we’re tired of getting stuck. So we’re packing up our own FUCKING house that we FUCKING own outright that fucking NOBODY can take away from us and with NO payment obligations and FUCK THE SYSTEM.

So anyway this big fuckin honker the wife was like WHY ARE YOU SO COMFORTABLE DRIVING THIS to Shea, but Shea worked for both Uhaul and Hertz so like hauling bigassed trucks around was kinda her thing and she also worked horses so giant ass horse trailers, you name it. So she just got up in there like she belonged and next thing you know we’re doing 65 down the bendy ass mountain freeways of central alabama like we been doing it for years

PS when you are in a literal fucking house 65 feels like 90, I’m just letting you know that now.

We’re still at our house cuz we gotta get this properly under our own tag/insurance and get a tow for the car. It was funny though cuz experienced or not knowing it was OUR LITERAL HOUSE Shea started like GOTTA BE CAREFUL GOTTA BE CAUTIOUS GOTTA MAKE SURE NOBODY DUMB and it turned into GET OUT THE WAY FUCKERS I’LL WIN within the 120 mile haul back home. Like BITCH I’LL TAKE MY FOOT OFF THE GAS BUT I AINT GONNA TRY TO JACK RABBIT STOP THIS FUCKER SO YOU BETTER GET SOME GIDDYUP IF YOU GONNA MERGE YOU FRIGGIN HONDA

This beast only has 65K miles on it. And that sounds like a lot but for an RV that isnt S H I T. People are like, if you can find a used one under 100K you’re doing okay. Half of those miles are just taking it out for a jog because you’re supposed to drive it once every couple weeks to keep it from rusting out basically. They just safely drove it in like a tristateish area down here for a few years as you can see on the cabinet stickers and moved around to sports games and shit and had fun.

The bedroom is purple. The kitchen is blue and yellow. KJSDKJFSjk she was like “Fuck the 1990 floral wallpaper we updating, there’s extra paint in one of the storage bins if you wanna touch any of it up”

So that’s it. We’re gonna do some work with said mechanic friend on the AC and a few tweaky details and as said, gotta tag/insurance/tow but once we get that worked out, that’s it, that’s home starting in a few weeks. 

We’re heading to Independence, Missouri first to touch base with my internet momma then swinging in Salt Lake City to meet old media friends like the folks at Arrowstorm and stopping to enjoy their stuff at Evermore Park before hitting Portland which, reasonably, I’ll guestimate we’ll be at like a week or two before Halloween but maybe we’ll make better time. If you’re en route to those destinations and wanna meet up, lemme know, we’re still gonna have fun on the way and try to record shit. 

Portland is the city I know how to work to and from the bone. I can turn any quarter into at least a dollar there, quite literally; I know how to eat eight times a day for free if need be. I reasonably think we can stay WELLLLLLLL above the line of needing that kind of assistance but because Shea is very anxiety driven to know we outright have a promised home and have promised food if worst case scenarios happen really made her go, you know what, fuck it, sure, Portland, you loved Portland, the wages are good in Portland, let’s do Portland.

If we start with dry camping at locations with free plug ups even still paying for Shea’s car and insurance, once major gas costs GETTING there are done, we’ll be running about 500 a month, and again, that’s including insurance for both vehicles and paying off her car note. Depending on the lot we land at, 700-900 a month. I can float that on my casual residual income. Everything after that is profit. Everything after that is success. I refuse to let Shea be anything less than Okay, but most of all, weird and nonconformative as it is, everything after this is scales of success. Hell minus the car note we’d be under 600/mo on the pricy end. We got dis. 

No more of my wife being convinced she needs to performatively pull loans on her livelihood and shelter for the illusion of a 3/2 middle class life with a picket fence and a job she hates in a place she hates that she doesn’t know how to get away from. Hell, if she ends up hating Oregon? WE CAN PICK UP OUR HOUSE AND MOVE.

QUEER CULTURE IS HAVING THE MILLENNIUM FALCON OF RVS RAINBOW PAINTED INTERNALLY TO HAUL ASS TO PORTLAND OREGON AND AINT SHIT YOU CAN DO TO STOP US, FUCKERS.

It’s literally parked in our yard right now awaiting our voyage.

You bet your ass we’re getting an aux cord and blaring classic rock on surround sound the whole goddamn way

Also gonna get a CB radio to roll with some of the better trucker herds out there. Trust me, solid investment for a multitude of reasons. And entertaining.

If you don’t know what Smokie In The Woods is on a CB radio, you don’t know the road.

It also comes with a lot of gadgets you usually have to buy, like converters for USB chargers in older vehicles and the cable antenna and an extra tent and hell they left two bikes on it like YALL WANT EM YOU CAN HAVE EM, SURE

So buying the RV, paying the friend for the loss of a work day, the necessary gas to get out there, and the tow all in all is gonna run us about 12,000 bucks total, which isn’t a bad deal for bringing your own house with you.

We already burned a few thousand of our settlement trying to fix this house before the bad news and/or upkeeping bills but now it’s time to burn it and walk. By the time we roll I’m expecting us to have about 4K over costs in the bank, which is... enough. It’s more of a nest egg than we’d have if we stayed here that’s for sure, covers emergencies on the way there and gives us a few months to get our shit together. Even the part-iest part time job out in Portland will float any overhead on bills much less if shea can fall in with all the media and digital work out there with her graphic design and art, we’re eyeing the portland saturday market to sell her stuff at in season too. SCREW THE SYSTEM YALL

#not spn #me #the road so far

[crue-sixx]

Falcon Punch!

Title: Falcon Punch!

Fandom: The Dirt (Motley Crue Movie)

Author: tiddly-winx

Summary: You are a private security detail hired by Doc to make sure the boys stay in line.

Warnings: Swearing, violence, light gore, vomit.

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

Your newest assignment was a doozie alright.  Your predecessor Doc McGee had called you and asked desperately for some assistance with handling one of his bands he was managing.  You were an asset in a private security firm, him being the man who recruited you off the street and trained you in a few martial arts styles.  He had found you when you and your friend Frank were running from the cops after being busted selling drugs to a narc.  You were the better fighter of the two kids (much to Frank's dismay), so you told him to run and you'll hold them off.  He did so reluctantly and you actually held your own for a few minutes before being tasered and sent to holding.

There, a man claiming to be your father posted your bail.  You knew it wasn't him, because the last time you saw him he made it perfectly clear that he never wanted to see you again.  The man before you then was offering you a way out of doing time in jail, so you tookhis hand and said "Sorry Daddy..." not in the sexual way, but in the way an actual daughter would address her biological father.  When you were in his car, you turned off the sweet charm and said "So who the fuck are you and why the fuck did you bail me out?"

"Well aren't you just all piss and vinegar?" the older man said, laughing.  "Just the amount of gumption I'm looking for!"

"That doesn't answer my question, smart ass" you grumbled.

"Call me Doc" he had said "I saw you beat the shit out of those cops and I was impressed to say the least.  So I want to recruit you to my private security agency.  With some training, you could make one of the top assets!"

"You DO know I'm only 14 right?" you raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, yeah I'll have you home schooled but training comes first" he extended his arm for a handshake "But it is of course voluntary.  If you REALLY want to go to juuvie then I'll drive you there myself" he looked at you questioningly.

You took his hand without hesitation and smirked "You got yourself a deal, Doc" he smiled too and the rest is history.

He met you in the terminal of the airport with the band he was managing 'Motley Crue'.  They all looked like they were drunk and strung out on something, which from the stench coming off them, they were.  "Gentleman, this is Falcon" you smiled at them and they looked you up and down.  "She's here to help me keep you in line."

In unison, they laughed so hard they doubled over.  "THAT'S what's gonna keep us in line?!" the blonde one hooted "That hottie looks more down with fuckin' than fightin'!"  they all chortled their agreement.

You looked over at Doc and said "May I?"

He chuckled "I'd be insulted if you didn't!"

Quick as lightning you punched the blonde one's throat, following it with a palm heel to the nose and a final iron forged fist into the soft tissue of his belly.  Blood and vomit went everywhere, the singer holding his nose and dry heaving.  The other three were stunned into silence, you grabbing him by the hair and growled "Talk to me like that again and I'll break you dick so the only things you can do with it are pissin' and finger paintin'" you lifted his face to meet yours "got it memorized?"

Vince was so pissed off, but he relented and nodded an affirmative answer.    One of the dark haired ones looked you up and down, as if trying to place you somewhere "Y/N?"

You stopped to look at him too, not hearing your real name in years.  You lifted up his bangs that hung in his face to get a better look at him "Frank?" he cringed at the name at first, but his smile grew wide.

"I changed it to Nikki a few years ago" he explained "Holy shit I see you can still open a case of whoop-ass like nobody's business" he glanced down at Vince, who was slowly recovering.  The tall one was helping him clean himself up like a worried mother hen.

"As you recall, Nikki" you smiled back at him "I don't like to be made a fool of or laughed at"  the older guitarist seemed quite amused at the spectacle, laughing at the singer's misfortune.

Nikki grew silent and asked "What happened after I got away...that night?"

"We can talk about that later, right now we need to talk about new security measures" Doc had rented out a conference room for such purposes.

You straightened your clothes and began "Gentleman, from this day on until the day Doc releases me from this assignment there will be no booze, no fucking, and no drugs unless prescribed by a doctor as medication.  Any questions?"

They all got up and protested "That's not fair!  We haven't done anything that bad lately!" the drummer yelled.

"Until you calm down and ease up on that shit, these rules will be increasingly enforced as I see fit.  Now you can be good little boys or you can get another beat down like Malibu Barbie over there" you nodded to Vince, who at this current moment in time was unable to talk just flipped you the bird.

Nikki was just as pissed as his band mates and he retorted "And just how are you gonna enforce these fucked up rules?" sarcastically.

You grinned a Cheshire cat smile and darkly, sweetly "I have my ways~" this struck the fear of the Falcon in them.

Things were quiet for a few days, the band going straight to their hotel rooms after shows.  They kept their noses clean (both literally and figuratively) from trouble and keeping their cool.  Doc was so happy with the results that he almost ended your contract after a week, but you had a hunch that one of them would try some shit and you were right.

"I think it's time we call for Bruce" you grinned, Doc reflecting your sadistic nature.

Tommy tried to open the door to get to the bar downstairs, only to be met by a snarling rot wilier german shepard mixed monster of a dog.  He screamed and jumped back in his room "Going somewhere, drummer?"

"No, ma'am!" he quickly squeaked, never taking his eyes off the dog.

"You're in luck Tommy" you giggled "I'm in a good mood.  If you can outrun Bruce here, you can have one drink, one bitch and one hit of any drug of your choice" you offered the trifecta of rewards.

He actually contemplated his chances and in a rare show of good judgement he slowly backed into his room and shut the door.  "Good boy!" you praised him.  You turned around to see the others peeking out of their rooms and quickly shut the doors.  They didn't want to end up dog food.

You knew the fear of Bruce was going a long way, and from your surveillance of their rooms you knew that they wouldn't try anything as long as you were there.  Doc had officially ended your contract and you were headed back to headquarters in secret.  You had quietly packed your bags and were rolling them down the hall when Nikki opened the door to let the room service he ordered in.  "What are ya doin?" he asked.

You laughed and said "My contract with Doc is over" you smiled at him.  "You can do whatever the fuck you want now.  It's no longer my business" you turned to leave but he pulled you into his room.

"I've been trying to talk to you" he said "about that night you let me go..."

You stiffened, the memory being more painful than you'd like to admit.  "I went to holding, Doc bailed me out, sort of adopted me and trained me to become the fighter you see now" you kept it short and sweet.  "How about you?"

He told you about his mom and the many times he'd moved around the place with his grandparents, who he fondly recalled all the stories.  After he was done, you said quietly "Did you ever think of me as anything more than a friend, Nikki?"

He bit his lip, knowing you had a crush on him when you were younger and he played off that feeling you had for him to get what he wanted.  "No" he said truthfully, and he felt like an ass for leading you on.  "I'm sorry I played off your feelings for me...I always knew it was wrong, but at the time I didn't care..." you felt unadulterated rage boil up inside you.  You clenched your fists and jaw so tight they would have broken diamonds.

"Goodbye Frank" you purposely called him by his birth name.  "If you ever grow up from that scared little boy you always were, call Falcon Security and ask for the Boss"  you hurriedly left with your bags, not allowing him to see the tears in your eyes.

Nikki sat in his room alone, then called room service for a shit load of Jack Daniels, mountains of blow and so many hookers his dick was sore.  When he woke up next to a complete stranger and left with a straw still in his nose.  In the bathroom, he removed the straw and looked at himself in the mirror.  "I'm such an asshole..." he hung his head in shame, not wanting to remember what he did to you all those years ago.

#submitted #motley crue #mötley crüe #the dirt #the dirt movie #nikki sixx #tommy lee #vince neil #mick mars #motley crue imagine #mötley crüe imagine #nikki sixx imagine #motley crue fanfiction #mötley crüe fanfiction #nikki sixx fanfiction #imagine #fanfiction #not mine #submission

[numeronubisexualhawkeye]

Be Kind, Rewind

2278 words

@thatahjuma

(ngl cheif, almost didn’t do this one cause it was kinda hard for me lmao)

It was Quill's idea. All of the guardians and Thor had been onboard in an instant, but Clint was hesitant when Nebula had come forward to tell him the plan. He missed Natasha more than words could describe, but Clint wasn’t one to try to fuck with the dead.

He had already time travelled twice in one week, fought an alien army for the second time in his life, and ran around with a glove with stones powerful enough to wipe out a planet, all in the course of 72 hours. Necromancy was something he probably should have expected to be next on his involuntary to-do list, but not like this. Not with Natasha.

She had quite literally given her life for the fate of the universe, so that he could live to see victory. Undoing her sacrifice felt selfish, and a part of him feared that undoing her death would somehow undo the battle against Thanos. It also felt incredibly unfair. Who was he, or any of the guardians, to play G-d? Clint could understand Quill’s need to do this, Gamora had had no choice in Thanos being her father and being killed for the soul stone. But Natasha, she was different. It felt disrespectful to go for such a long shot to bring her back. She had wanted to jump, had bet her life that it would work, and it did. They won. Hurt like a bitch, but Clint was ready to accept that she had died as she had lived; working to save the world. He wasn’t sure if he was willing to undo what she’d done all because he missed her.

But Bruce confirmed the math (even if almost all of it was completely theoretical), and everyone onboard was willing to give it a shot. Worst case scenario, everyone hangs it up, and tries to move on with life, try to carve out something new among the old ashes of a missing loved one. Best case scenario, well Clint knew what that was, but he was still too afraid to think on it. What if she came back angry? Would she even come back the same? Would the Red Skull even let her come back at all? There was only one way to find out. He packed his bags, boarded the ship, and held on as Rocket piloted them to lightspeed back to Vormir.

Clint was almost mesmerized when he saw Vormir appear out of the vast blackness of space when Rocket pulled them out of lightspeed. But when the realization of what they were here to attempt to do flooded his mind again, he felt uneasy. This felt like a mistake waiting to happen. It wasn’t going to work, there was too much working against them for this to work. They were about to mess with a magic Clint had never seen before. Even after being around aliens for the last 24 hours and seeing the Infinity Stones’ power for himself, he still felt like they were meddling with something completely out of their realm of comprehension.

They exited the ship, Quill leading them at first, but Nebula stopped them halfway up the mountain and turned to Clint. “You should address the guardian.” she said.

He had been nervous before, but hearing her suggestion, it made him want to turn around and wait on the ship. The plan had originally been for Quill to go first, seeing as Gamora had died more recently than Natasha had. If everything went smoothly and she came back, then that would mean that the chance of bringing Natasha back were better than the some odd million to one chances that Bruce had offered when he hypothesized their plan back at on Earth. If he went forward first and this didn’t work, he didn’t know what he would do. He had failed to turn up to fight Thanos, wasted five years brooding and killing, left Natasha alone to deal with trying to run the Avengers and save the world by herself, and when he finally came back, he barely had any time to appreciate those last few hours they had had together. He had always envisioned the both of them making it out together. That they would be together right now, leaving the guardians to fight their own battle alone and finally leave the world in the hands of some of the fresher Avengers. But all of that had dropped into oblivion when Natasha let go of his hand. But now, well now he had a chance to get it all back. A very fragile and slim chance, but a chance nonetheless. Their plan wasn’t foolproof, but he would much rather stick to it than wing it and hope for the best.

“Nebula, seriously?” Quill said stepping towards Clint. “I really doubt some guy is gonna be able to handle whatever Hellraiser here is gonna throw at him.”

Nebula’s expression didn’t change. She simply shot a glance between Quill and Clint. “You’re wrong. He’s been here before. Tried to give his life to save Natasha so she could bring the stone back. He can do it.”

“I’m flattered,” Clint started, “but,” he didn’t have time to formulate a full answer.

“Clint, son of Edith.” the Red Skull said. He floated down from the cliffs above. Had he been able to hear them this entire time? “Nebula, daughter of Thanos. Peter, son of,”

“Okay, enough with the role call,” Quill cut in. “We’re here to bargain.” Quill reached inside his pocket and held out the soul stone. It had been agreed upon that he would be the one to carry it, seeing as he had held the power stone years before without dying.

The Red Skull didn’t say anything. As a matter of fact, he looked, confused. His eyes squinted and he reached out his hand for the stone when Quill held it out. “No one has ever brought it back.” he explained. He paused again, and looked at Clint. “You have come for an exchange?”

Nebula’s plan to have Clint speak instead seemed to be set in motion even though no one had agreed on it. “Yes. You remember me?” Clint asked.

The guardian nodded. “Of course. Few ever follow through with the exchange for the stone. But even fewer willingly give themselves for it.”

Clint fought against the lump in his throat as he remembered he and Natasha fighting each other as they raced to the cliff’s edge. “It should have been me. If I switch places, and you bring Natasha back,”

“Barton what are you doing?” Quill hissed beside him. “This wasn’t the plan.”

“We’re fucking with death Quill, you really think any kind of plan was going to hold water here?” Clint whispered harshly. “We have to play by his rules, or turn around with our tails between our legs. If this doesn’t work, then nothing else will.”

Clint was willing to give his life for Natasha. He had done it so many times before back when Shield was still around, G-d all those missions seemed so trivial compared to what he was trying to do now. Jumping in front of a fire fight to pull Natasha to cover felt like a walk in a park to this. But he was willing to do it. He was already willing to give his life for the soul stone before, and not just for Natasha, but for the fate of the universe. Now that the dust had settled and he had a second chance, a chance to do things right in his eyes, he wasn’t too eager to screw that up because Quill suddenly had a penchant for doing things according to plan.

He held his hand out to Quill. “Give me the stone.” he instructed. “I can’t make any promises, but I will try my hardest to bring Gamora back.”

Quill looked away for a moment, his face twisted as he weighed the very limited options. It was either this, or they both jump and hope the Red Skull accepted 50/50 deals. “Fine.” Quill said at last. “But if this doesn’t work, I swear to G-d, I will dig you up and kick your corpse’s ass.”

He hadn’t said it to be funny, but Clint smirked anyway. “It’s going to work. He took the stone from Quill and walked to the Red Skull. “A soul for a soul, that’s what you said right?”

The Skull’s expression was unchanged. “Follow me.”

Clint gave one last glance over his shoulder to the guardians as he walked to the mountaintop. This is the only way. He thought. It’s better this way. Natasha was going to come back, the scales would be tipped to order. Clint just prayed that his promise to Quill would hold up, he couldn’t stand to think if he had wasted another life and kept another couple apart because of his selfishness.

At the mountaintop, Clint swore he could hear the ghost of he and Natasha’s conversation in his ears. To the Red Skull, that had been almost a decade ago, but to Clint, it had barely been two days. He walked to the edge, the Red Skull following closely behind him.

“A soul for a soul.” he repeated. He looked back to the guardian, “Will this even work?”

The Skull didn’t answer. He just held out his hand. Clint looked at the stone in his hand one last time. For a moment, he wondered if he could bring the Red Skull down with him. When he and Natasha had first come to Vormir, he had said that he knew all there was about the stone. He had seen G-d knows how many people come to try and get the stone, the few that did leaving half the person that they had been before. Those souls and bodies didn’t just disappear. They had to go somewhere. The stone was the only logical answer, but if that were true, then they would have been released when Bruce snapped his fingers.

A soul for a soul.

Clint held his hand out toward the Red Skull, and when he brushed his hand with his to take it, Clint lunged forward off the cliff. He tried to be quick with his grappling hook to catch himself, but the added weight of the Red Skull pulled him down too fast. Falling through the air, he felt impossibly slow, but he still reached out for the cliff wall, praying to find any ledge to take hold of. But there was none, and he finished the fall with the Red Skull, the soul stone forgotten in the air around them as he met the stone floor of the ground below.

There was a rush of sound around him. Wind? An explosion? No, no it was quieter than that. It was voices. Only a few of them, but he was sure that’s what he was hearing. But as quickly as they came, they were gone, the air in his ears popping as if the air was rushing to fill in the void that the voices had left when they vanished.

Clint’s eyes snapped open, he was staring up at the same purple-black sky that he had seen when he awoke with the soul stone. He bolted upward, his back soaked, he was in the same pool of water as last time.

“No.” Clint whispered to himself. He looked down at his hand, and there was the soul stone, the soft glow a beacon in his hand, telling him that he had failed twice now. “No. No, no, no, no.” he cried.

It didn’t work. Of course it didn’t work. Just like he had suspected, they had tried to play G-d, and G-d played back.

He put his face in his hands and heaved out a sob. He didn’t care if the guardians heard him. He had failed again. Now, not only had he gone against Natasha’s dying wish and every conceivable law of nature, but himself as well.

“Who the hell are you?” a voice nearby said.

Clint looked up and saw a woman, no, an alien, green skin and all, standing a few feet away from him. “Gamora?” he whispered. She backed away slowly when she looked down and saw the stone in Clint’s hand.

“Hey, hey, no. I, I wasn’t supposed to get this. It was supposed to be a tra-”

“Clint.”

This time the voice came from behind him, but he didn’t need to turn around to see who it belonged to. He would know her voice long after he had passed on. Natasha.

Slowly, he allowed himself to turn around. When he saw her, he broke. They walked toward each other, his arms stretched wide, ready to pull him into his embrace. When they met in the middle, she pushed him away with tears in her eyes.

“I told you to go. You weren’t supposed to come back. I told you it was okay!” Despite the anger in her voice, she cried. But he wasn’t listening. He pulled her to him and kissed her, letting the stone drop to the water as he pressed his hands against her back. She was there, she was alive, she was real.

“You know I’m a jackass.” he said when he finally paused for air.

Natasha let out a short laugh. “Fuck. Me dying to save the literal universe just wasn’t good enough, huh?”

Clint didn’t even know what to say. He just kissed her again and took her hand, as he lead them and Gamora back to the guardians and the ship, so they could finally live in the victory they deserved.

#k.txt #fic tag #clintasha #endgame spoilers #fix it fic

[extreme-technicality]

Did I ask you yet? I can't remember, so here you go. 💜 14 please.

14: Talk about a vacation.

Alrighty yalls are getting the Story of That Time Lyn Went Camping With Their Discord Spouses, this is gonna be so long and I’m not sorry :D

So this story starts aaaalllll the waaayy back at the end of March. One of my favorite fic authors had just finished up a very sweet shinkami fic and in the notes of the final chapter, added a link to a brand new Discord server specifically for shinkami shippers. Naturally, I joined, since I felt this author and I had grown to be very close through the two multichap fics I left comments on. (I didn’t expect to stay long.)

THEY RECOGNIZED ME. Not very surprising, since my Ao3 and Discord screennames are the same, but I was still shocked. I was even more shocked when they made me an admin (which was honestly one of the most questionable decisions ever, like ily but I should not be given any modicum of power because monkey brain WILL activate and cause chaos). Within three days of the server being active I had, in no particular order, become Official Teacher, adopted everyone, and got Discord married to the creator of the server (and the author of the og fics, which,,,I’m still reeling over that tbqfh, thankfully they don’t have tumblr so they won’t see me gushing lmao) as well as to another admin. Within about a week of that happening, we had created a group chat on Discord, exchanged phone numbers and created another group chat, found out we all liked camping and lived within reasonable distance of each other, and decided to plan a camping trip for two months out.

We had barely known each other for two weeks and we were all saying “yeah, I’d be down to spend a weekend with you two cuddled up in a tent together on a platonic camping trip”. But we had to wait cuz it was early April and we weren’t set to go until the end of June.

Fast forward to like, mid-June? My spouses are freaking out because the Anxieties are hitting. Meanwhile I’m so chill, like “yeah I’m about to meet internet friends who are both at least 5 years older than me and spend a whole ass weekend with them, this is fine”. My anxieties didn’t start hitting until about a day or so before the trip itself, when I started thinking “omg what if I miss one(1) single train and that makes me miss the bus and I can’t make it up there omg what if the train that the internet is telling me to take actually gets me somewhere completely different omg what if I get there and they completely fucking hate me and think I’m too childish omg omg omg”

I’m happy to say every single one of these fears was completely unfounded. Funny how anxiety works :)

Me and Spouse 1 (the one who instigated this whole thing, Author-kun) were taking buses, while Spouse 2 was driving with most of the supplies. The entire bus ride we’re texting each other privately, as well as keeping the server updated (cuz they were all very invested in how their parents would get along in person lmao).

Spouse 2 got to the bus station first and was waiting for me to get there next. I step off and I’m looking around, looking around, and THERE!! A squishy GREMLIN!!! MY SQUISHY GREMLIN!!! And in true gremlin form, we saw each other and immediately squared up to fight (we didn’t actually fight tho). And we hugged, and I shoved my bag in their car. We hopped on Discord vc and were screaming with each other and one or two other server members, and we chilled for about an hour until Spouse 1’s bus got there.

Spouse 1 had arrived, we spent at least five minutes hugging each other in the middle of the terminal and probably drawing more than a few looks, and then it was off to the campsite– well, ish. It wasn’t check-in time yet, so we took the opportunity to get lunch at this little diner and also buy food for the weekend.

Hehehe, Walmart was so much fucking fun.

While we were driving, we put on the Official Team Parents Camping Trip Playlist, dubbed PlatonicScience™️, with such clearly platonic favorites as certain songs from Six (the musical about Henry VIII’s six wives) and kingdom hearts music. (Spouse 2 made the playlist, I love them for it, and it remains my favorite playlist 2.5 months later.)

We then went to check in and get firewood, ice, and try and find our campsite. Funny story, the first place we pitched our tent was not, in fact, our assigned site :))) luckily it was literally like a slot or two down so we just picked up the tent and walked it down the way lmaoooo.

The rest of the weekend was honestly amazing. We went swimming, like, daily, I lost my sunglasses in the lake, we watched Brokeback Mountain and Inuyasha when it rained, I made us crepes for breakfast both mornings we were there, my spouses built the campfires every night (because they apparently didn’t trust me with fire, for some odd reason), I won Spouse 1 a stuffed frog from a claw machine for their birthday, they were apparently offered a slimy green gummy bear by a random kid, and I found the sunglasses I thought were lost to the depths of the water. Oh, and we all agreed to get matching tattoos in the same place. We would’ve done it before we left, but none of the 3 parlors were open to walk ins on sundays :(

The final day, we had a few hours to kill before my bus and Spouse 1’s bus would come, so we packed up Spouse 2’s car and went back to the nearby town to dick around for a few hours. We poked our heads into a few stores, I almost got like five pocketknives at a flea market, we almost got lost, and we ended the day with ice cream and lunch at the same diner.

Then it was back to the bus terminal so Spouse 1 could get their bus home, and fam when I tell you it immediately felt colder without them. Spouse 2 and I were absolutely despondent in their car. Yeah, we had each other, but we were missing Spouse 1 T_T

Finally MY bus got there, and it was even worse cuz I didn’t even have anyone to cuddle the sadness away with TnT Spouse 1 had written me and Spouse 2 letters, and included gifts of a minute hand on a chain for both of us in there. So I opened my letter on the bus, got emotional, put the necklace on, and then I looped Sad Boi Music™️ until I got back to my stop. Then it was, like, two or three trains plus a lot of walking before I got back home late that night.

#kingdomheartstrashmouth #ask dadzawa #mermaidlorelei #its 2:30am and a bitch might just have to go loop sad boi music™️ cuz theyre missing their spouses #also i know i mentioned it like once in the actual post but yeah the whole discord married thing is entirely platonic #spouse 1 is almost seven and a half years older than me and spouse 2 is roughly five years older than me #the Team Parents Camping Trip is also planned to be an annual thing too #oh right i also got a bigfoot walking stick from the campsite!! it was $7 #and thats $7 i dont regret spending in the slightest

[wardencommanderrodimiss]

chapter 11.5 -- okay, 12, it’s chapter 12, fine, fine. I should stop trying to predict how long my chapters will be. I’m always wrong. the Fae AU keeps escaping all my predictions. it’s fine. it’s cool. 

[Beginning] [Chapter Masterlist] [ao3]

It is not, as Apollo expects, the worst road trip he has ever been a part of. Trucy likes to sing along to the radio – she has a surprisingly good voice – which stops Clay from starting up his usual road trip tradition of bellowing out “Ninety-Nine Bottles of Beer on the Wall” and seeing how much he can get through before someone slaps him. Trucy claimed shotgun, as “the woman with the magic map”, meaning Apollo is shunted to the back with Ema, who upends her bag on the floor to pull from it a jumbo-sized pack of Snackoos and offer a handful to him.

“None for us?” Clay asks, pouting in the rearview mirror.

“Backseat privileges,” Ema replies.

Trucy cranks the radio up as a familiar guitar riff begins.

If it’s extortion, it works; she and Clay have not finished the first verse, Trucy’s almost-operatic interpretation running up against Clay’s off-key warbling, before Ema is shoving the Snackoos up between their seats, offering a trade of chocolates for an end to the car-vibrating force of Guilty Love.

“Not a fan?” Clay asks.

Ema groans. So does Trucy. “Don’t get me started,” Ema says.

“Yeah, please don’t,” Trucy adds.

“He’s a pretentious fuckin’ diva who—”

Trucy begins yelling out the chorus to the song over the second verse emitting from the radio.

They are all still arguing – Ema berating Clay’s taste in music while Trucy moves into an attempt to sing My Boyfriend is the Prosecution’s Witness to the tune of Guilty Love and Apollo tries to turn the volatile atmosphere anywhere else – when the song ends. Trucy shushes everyone, violently, smacking Clay on the arm and then flailing back at Ema, and turns up the radio. A DJ is in the middle of saying something.

“—announced today on their social media. While fans are disappointed, no one can say that the break-up comes as a surprise, after the sentencing of guitarist Daryan Crescend for murder in July, and the three months of, ahem, radio silence that’s followed. And earlier this week, leader singer Klavier Gavin’s brother was indicted on a second count of murder – I can’t say I blame him for maybe wanting to duck out of the spotlight. Gavin’s brother was previously charged in April, for—”

Trucy changes the channel. A commercial for a local furniture outlet doesn’t help break the awkward spell fallen over them. “Yeah,” she says, after a full minute, during which time they discover their new channel is a country music channel. “No real surprise.”

“Brother and bandmate,” Clay says quietly. “Hell of a year.”

“Hell of a six months,” Apollo says. And he was there for all of it – he was there for more of it than Klavier ever was. Klavier wasn’t there in April, not when Kristoph fell, not when any of them could have had any idea what was ahead. How much magic would surround them.

“If my older sister had been convicted of murder, I was gonna crawl into the dirt and die,” Ema says, “so I’m with the fop on that one, actually.”

There is a worrying lack of hypotheticals in the second half of Ema’s scenario. No “would have”s. Like she was where Klavier is, but the trial had a different outcome, and the frozen expression on her face, her eyes gone blank, she looks like she has caught up with her own words. Said too much. Apollo doesn’t know much about her as a person, her life before failing the forensics exam, how it was that she knew Mr Wright, but he can sympathize with that fear of having given away too much, turned the conversation down a path that should stay blocked off.

“You have a sister?” Trucy asks, turning around in her seat. “You seemed kinda ‘only-child’ to me.’ “Yeah,” Ema says quietly. “Older sister. Her name’s Lana. We don’t… talk much.”

Apollo doesn’t know why the name feels like it strikes something in his brain, the way Ema’s did when she first introduced herself.

“Oh.” Trucy visibly wilts. “Sorry.”

Ema shrugs, slumping back against her seat, her arms folded. “It happens,” she says. Her eyes are glazed over, settled in Clay’s direction. Her mouth quirks in the beginnings of a smile. “She took me to the Space Museum once, not long after it first opened.” The wistful smile has grown a little larger. “Back when I didn’t know what kind of scientist I wanted to be, so I wanted to go everywhere, and she was like ‘Ema I’m not taking you to the fucking tar pits again, how about space?’, and—” She shakes her head. “Sorry. Your jacket got me thinking. Do you work there or something?”

And that is the question that Clay most likes to be asked, that or literally anything else ever about space, and that is the end of any of them getting a word in edgewise – but while Apollo’s heard it all before, Trucy has questions galore, and Ema sits forward, slowly losing the pretense of not being enraptured.

-

They have driven for over two hours by the time Trucy directs them to pull of the highway at an exit that tells them there is nothing for them that way but another 38 miles until Kurain Village. “Is that where the Fair Folk live?” Ema asks dryly, in her voice none of the nervousness that people tend to have. Apollo hasn’t spoken much with her about magic, doesn’t know what she thinks – but, well, she knows Phoenix. That’s clue enough that caution comes secondary.

“Not really,” Trucy says. “They just named it that. It’s part of our world. Sometimes some of the fae do show up and hang around, I think – Maya tried to convince Daddy to move out here, once, apparently, but he wouldn’t leave the office.”

“Who’s Maya?” Apollo asks. Sometimes he realizes how little he knows about Phoenix’s personal life, too.

“Daddy’s friend. She’s – wait, stop! Here! Turn down this road here!”

“This is not a road,” Clay says, hunching over the steering wheel. “This is some dirt, off the road, not even in the shape of a dirt road.”

The car groans as Clay turns it off of the asphalt into the dirt. Trucy pops open the door and stands, holding herself between the door and the car roof and turning her face to the sky and the no-longer-distant mountains looming above them. She says something, muffled, and points into the trees. “We’re close,” she says, ducking back inside the car. “Let’s park and go – we’re close.”

“Park right here?” Clay asks, raising a doubtful eyebrow.

“Barely anyone comes this way,” Trucy says. “Like, one bus, except I’m not even sure if this is on its route. It’s fine.”

“I’m more worried that this is some sort of sacred ground that we’re stomping on,” Clay says, but he turns the key and then smacks his head against the top of the wheel. “How much are we going to regret just walking out there?”

“Probably we won’t,” Trucy says. She flings the door open and jumps out, stretching her arms up into the air. “C’mon already!”

“So what are we doing now?” Ema asks, crumpling the Snackoos bag back into her bag and tumbling forth from the car like a liquid spilled. “Just walking into the woods until we find treasure or a bear?”

“We do have a map.” Trucy waves it at her. “But yes. That’s what we’re doing.” She lowers the page halfway to her side and then stops, tilting her head back. “I’ve been here before,” she says. “Grandpappy and I – sometime – sometime after my mom died.” She takes a few slow steps toward the treeline, her movements uneven, as in a daze. “It was just the two of us. And we came here, and we buried—” She spins around, eyes wide, looking at all and none of them. “We buried his grimoire.”

Without another word of warning, she dashes into the woods, sending them scrambling to catch up to her. It’s colder here than in the city, though Apollo didn’t think they went up too far in elevation. Leaves thickly coat the ground; do they hide rings of flowers beneath them or do those in their magic break through? They finally reach Trucy when she, focused on her map, walks straight into a tree and takes some time to properly reorient herself.

“Do you know why here, of all places?” Apollo asks. “Is it because of the mountains, and he was…?”

He stops. Does Trucy know what her grandfather was? Phoenix didn’t say. Of course he didn’t.

“He said this is where he landed,” Trucy replies, crunching a leaf beneath her foot. “He said he fell, and this is where he landed.”

“Was he—” Clay’s sense, that question that they all know they shouldn’t ask, that question that Apollo has asked again and again anyway, wars against curiosity, against more than wanting to know – needing to know, to understand what is Trucy’s family. “Was he, erm, one of – Them?”

He can’t even bring himself to offer up one of the epithets. This close to the mountains, Apollo isn’t sure that he could bring himself to speak of them plainly like he has learned to.

“Yeah,” Trucy says. “But I’m human. Don’t worry.” She flashes a grin, one of her usual grins, but it is tempered by the speed with which is vanishes from her face again, replaced by a frown of concentration. “I think we must be close, but not quite yet.”

“Hey, Trucy?” Ema asks. She pushes a branch out of the way and it snaps back to nearly strike Clay in the face. “Not to pry, but – if your grandfather was one of the Fair Folk, are you the changeling, or was it your mother?”

Trucy stops.

“Wait,” Ema says. “Not a changeling – that’s the fae child. The human kid, the one swapped out. Is there a word for that?”

“I don’t think so,” Trucy says. She hops over a log. “I don’t think there’s a name for people like that.”

She doesn’t answer the first question. Maybe she doesn’t know, either.

“When you say you buried it,” Apollo says, aware that there is nothing subtle about this lifeline he is throwing to pull her away from questions best left avoided (am I a child stolen away, raised by the fae? Did they take me from the life I should have had?), “have we come all this way to be foiled for want of a shovel?”

“Oh fuck,” Trucy says.

“Hey!” Ema barks, her sharp rebuke the manifestation of that urge Apollo feels to scold her for that. “Language, young missy!” She folds her arms across her chest, her glare a fond one. “Where did you learn that?”

“My daddy’s a card shark,” Trucy says, countering Ema with a smug grin of her own.

“I thought he was a piano player,” Clay says.

“Only because you’ve never heard him play,” Trucy replies. “Easy mistake to make.”

“Considering it was all magic that hid the map,” Ema says, with nary a pause to acclimate everyone to the idea of throwing the conversation back past that latest sharp turn, “wouldn’t it be magic to hide it again, logically speaking?”

“Where’s the logic here?” Clay asks. Ema snaps a twig off a bush and flicks it at him. “And I mean, if it’s just covered up with some illusion, couldn’t anyone stumble into it?”

“Maybe it takes the map, too,” Apollo says. “Or maybe only a Gramarye can unveil it.”

He steps up onto a tree stump, like the extra five inches can grant him some kind of special insight or a better view in the forest of brown. Then he is falling, the wood rot giving way beneath his foot, a sharp jolt running up his leg from the twist of his foot. “Shit!”

Trucy winces. “Ouch. Poor Polly. I—”

“Apollo,” Ema says, very seriously, but somewhat muffled by her hand over her mouth. “Move. Move right now.”

“What?” He sits up, dislodging his foot from the stump, and looks about himself. The forest floor of dead leaves has cleared, as though by a strong, concentrated wind, revealing browned dead grass encased by a perfect circle of blue flowers. “Oh. Oh shit.”

Without an ounce of grace, still on his hands and knees, he scrambles and rolls his way out of the faery ring. “So according to the map,” Trucy says, and above his head Apollo hears the flutter of the paper, “I think we found it.”

“Only a Gramarye, huh,” Clay says dryly.

“That was only supposition!”

“So who’s gonna stick their hand in a rotten tree stump?” Ema asks, producing a flashlight from her bag and shining the beam down into it. “I volunteer Trucy, because she’s wearing gloves, and is our Gramarye.”

Trucy kicks up the leaves on her approach, searching for hints of another ring around the stump, more than just Apollo’s that sits adjacent to it. “If I get bit by a squirrel and get rabies and die, it’s your fault,” she says, kneeling down next to the stump and brushing her hair back to peer down into it.

“Statistically, your chance of getting rabies from a squirrel is negligible,” Ema says. “That shouldn’t be your worry.”

“What should I worry about, then?” Trucy asks. “Can you bring the light a little closer?”

“Bats, racoons, foxes, feral cats and dogs, and right now, probably non-rabies Fair Folk curses, since we’re fucking around by a ring.”

“I’m still concerned about bears,” Clay says.

“I’m not,” Ema says. “I’ve already got my plan, which is to trip you into its path.”

“General ‘you’, or me, specifically?”

“You specifically. Nothing personal, though. I just know Trucy and Apollo better than you.”

“This is way heavier than I thought,” Trucy says, falling off-balance and dropping something dark and rectangular. “Oof! Okay. Okay. We got it!” She lifts it up onto her knees, a thick book with a black cover and a character emblazoned in flowing purple script on it. “I knew I remembered this.” Her voice is quieter as she opens the book and flips through the rough-edged pages. “Grandpappy’s grimoire.” She closes the cover again, reverently, and keeps it balanced on her legs as she turns back to the stump. “Light again, please. I thought I saw something else.” Trucy has her head nearly in the hole, which can’t help her with her light situation, and she sits back and plunges her hand in again. “Yep! This is a – a funny-looking magatama?”

She holds it up, the blue stone sparkling in the flashlight beam, but also seemingly with its own interior glow, and Apollo gasps.

Three sets of eyes turn to him.

“That’s a mitamah,” he says, and to his own ears he sounds like he’s choking, but he feels like he’s choking too, and maybe the others don’t notice but he doubts it. “That’s someone’s soul.”

Trucy drops it into the leaves.

“What?” Clay looks suspicious – Trucy looks horrified. “How do you know?”

(“There’s no reason to give away your soul,” Dhurke told them, sternly, the sternest he ever got. “Never.” And then they tried to argue, to come up with reasons, because of course they did, and he hugged them both close. “You’ll make great lawyers someday, always looking for reasons and other ways, but this one – promise me. Nahyuta. Apollo.” He prodded each of them in the chest. “Don’t let someone else get their hands on your soul.”)

“The tail of it is different.” Apollo picks it up, brushing off the dirt and leaf particles that cling to it, and points to the longer, squiggling protrusion that extends from the loop. It doesn’t fully connect like a magatama, either, more like a hook than a circle.

It feels warm in his hand, humming through his fingers and up into his ears. It reminds him of the office – familiar, but disturbing, because there is no reason that it should feel so familiar and comforting.

“Could it be your grandfather’s?” Ema asks.

“Wouldn’t that mean he’s still alive?” Clay asks. “Is that possible?”

“It couldn’t be,” Apollo says. If he stares at the mitamah he thinks he can see flecks of gold within the blue, like stars on a constellation chart. “The Fair Folk don’t have souls like we do. They can’t sell them or manifest them like this.”

“Is that why they want human souls?” Ema asks.

“How do you know?” Clay repeats.

Apollo’s heart has stoppered up his throat.

“It makes them stronger,” Trucy says softly. “When they buy names, or souls, it makes their magic stronger. But this – this can’t be that.” She hugs the grimoire up to her chest. “It can’t just be that.”

“Should we just… put it back?” Ema asks. “Someone’s probably looking for it, right?”

“It’s been seven years and no one has come before us,” Apollo says. The humming isn’t as steady now, seems more like a song, and familiar, damned familiar. “No, we can’t just leave her here.”

In the silence, even the song seems to stop. “What?” Apollo asks. Their three sets of eyes are on him again, even more piercing, Trucy’s wide and Clay’s narrowed and Ema’s narrowing too.

“‘Her’?” Ema repeats. “Why ‘her’?”

“I…” Apollo swallows his heart. “I don’t know, but I… I know?”

“I don’t think you should be holding that in your bare hands,” Clay says.

But the alternative seems to be dropping her in the dirt again, and Apollo’s fingers curl tighter around the stone. He can’t do that, either. Trucy unties her scarf from around her neck and silently passes it to him, letting him wrap the stone up in the red fabric and then cradle it close again. The song thrumming in his ears ceases. “I guess we should take it to Mr Wright and ask him if he knows what to do,” Ema says. “He’ll know what to do with it. Her?”

Trucy’s gaze is unfocused, her head slowly drifting away from the horizon back toward the stump. “Trucy?” Apollo asks. “Are you okay?”

“He wouldn’t do that,” she says. “Just buy up someone’s soul all for himself. He wouldn’t. There had to be some other reason. It wasn’t just power, there had to be a good reason.”

(“There’s no reason,” Dhurke said. “Never.”)

“He gave me magic, as a gift,” Trucy says. “He was a good man.” She looks up at Apollo, blinking her blue eyes furiously. “Wasn’t he?”

-

It takes them another forty-five minutes to stumble out of the woods and find Clay’s car again. Ema makes everyone nervous talking about the odds of them stumbling across a body decomposing in the undergrowth – “I have zero desire to ever get caught up in one of your murder investigations,” Clay says, picking up a branch from the bushes and brandishing it like a baseball bat – and bears. The two of them are at least doing a good job of filling the silence left by Trucy, uncomfortably quiet, walking in a trace. Apollo tugs her by the arm out of the way of trees. He could put the mitamah in his pocket but hasn’t, has kept it held close to his chest.

The story that Phoenix spun of the Gramaryes is gnawing at him. A woman, on the bad end of a deal with Magnifi – Apollo doesn’t want to think about the possibility.

(Trucy must be thinking about the possibility, mustn’t she?)

She crawls into the back seat of the car, depositing the grimoire in the middle, and Ema makes a mad dash for the front seat, leaving Apollo to sit on the other side of the grimoire, separated by it from Trucy. The only time she speaks is to call Phoenix and ask him if he is at the office – he is, because she directs Clay to go back to the office.

It is a long, quiet ride home, some subdued conversation between Ema and Clay about their fields of science rising over the country music still on the radio. Trucy taps Apollo’s hand and beckons him to hand her the mitamah. She takes off one of her gloves and weighs it in her hand with an ever-deepening frown until she wraps it back up and passes it back to Apollo.

Ema shouts “Yellow car!” and hits Clay on the shoulder. He hits her back and tells her that she needs to specify no punch-backs next time.

-

Phoenix is sitting on the floor leaning against the couch with two notebooks and a stack of papers spread out in front of him, the coffee table shoved to the side, a pencil in his mouth and another tucked behind his ear, when they stagger into the office. Apollo is mediating an argument about the merits of Eldoon’s for a late lunch – Ema does not want to brave it, while Clay wants nothing more than to do so. Phoenix does not look up.

“Hey, Daddy,” Trucy says wearily.

His head snaps up, dislodging the pencil behind his ear. “What’s wrong?”

“You always complain about your back hurting, and now look what you’re doing.” Trucy’s words sound forced through a smile. Phoenix’s frown deepens. He watches Trucy walk past him to deposit the grimoire on his desk.

“We went looking into the envelope you gave her the other day,” Apollo says. “The real last page.”

Phoenix doesn’t look back from Trucy right away. “A full expedition team, huh?” he asks, raising one eyebrow as he looks over Ema and Clay. “Who’s this?”

“Er, oh, yeah. I’m Clay Terran. Apollo’s roommate.” Clay points with his thumb at Apollo, even though they all know there is only one Apollo that they know. “You’re Mr Wright, yeah?” He doesn’t do a good job of feigning enthusiasm.

“I know that look,” Phoenix says, standing with a wince and an audible crack of some of his joints. “That’s the ‘I’ve heard about you and it’s nothing good’ look.” He lets Clay splutter for a full two seconds before he grins crookedly and adds, “That’s fair.” Almost immediately, his expression flattens out to something stern and almost entirely foreign. “Trucy,” he calls. “What’s wrong?”

“We found my grandfather’s grimoire,” she says, sitting on the desk and holding it up, only for it to slip from her hands and crash to the floor. “And Polly has the other thing that was with it.”

Apollo unwraps the mitamah.

Has he ever seen Phoenix surprised? The man spent seven years an unbeaten poker player, and this past half-year absolutely inscrutable to Apollo’s eyes. There is nothing controlled in his reaction; his mouth falls open and his eyes go wide, turning blue immediately and staying blue, horror apparent in how they linger on the mitamah. “Oh,” he breathes. “That is – yeah.”

He reaches forward with trembling hands and scoops up the scarf spread across Apollo’s hands. He holds it cradled close, too, his free hand cupped beneath the one holding it, prepared to catch the stone should it slip, but still not having touched it with bare skin. “So,” he says. “The ‘source’ of Magnifi’s magic – that grimoire, and this soul.”

“But,” Trucy says, “that…” She stops. She chews on the inside of her cheek. Mr Hat, the wisp, is visible, bobbing frenetically around her shoulders. “It’s…” Her shoulders slump. “Do you know what to do with that, Daddy? Is there a way to know what person a soul belongs to?”

“Not from looking only at the mitamah,” Phoenix answers. His eyes still hollow blue when he turns them back to Trucy. “I am not particularly familiar with mitamahs, honestly, but I’ll look into it and see what I can do to get it back to her.” He takes the stone in one hand and offers Trucy her scarf back. “If the fae who has possession of a soul is still alive, they can just give it back – not that many are willing to, mind – but since he’s dead – well.” He shakes his head. “Thank you, though. For helping Trucy, and bringing this back.”

It’s a firm end to the conversation, not that Apollo knows what more to ask about a soul. Ema, though, is frowning, her arms crossed, her mouth twisting like she is puzzling out something. “We were gonna go get noodles at Eldoon’s,” Apollo says. “If – if you wanted to come, Trucy.”

“Oh!” She looks surprised, like she hadn’t expected to be addressed. “Um.” Her heels bounce against the desk. “Thanks, but I’m okay.”

Her hands, curled around the edge of the desk, shine red. Apollo doesn’t even need that to know she’s lying.

-

“We all agree she’s not okay, right?” Clay asks.

They were silent for a block down from the office, Ema not even complaining about losing the Eldoon’s battle. (Apollo was prepared to tell her that she didn’t have to come, but she had attached herself to them without a cursory protest.)

“Definitely not,” Ema says. “I guess she doesn’t want to believe that her grandfather was the double-dealing type of Folk – which, I’ve read the case file on his death, I’d believe that about him in a hot second. There’s nothing worse than a blackmailer like that. Also.” She plants herself firmly in the sidewalk. Apollo and Clay both bump into her. “None of us referred to the mitamah as ‘she’ or ‘her’, right? Like you were, Apollo.”

“None of us but Trucy even talked about it,” Apollo says. Clay nods. “Why?”

“Because Mr Wright did.” Ema’s forehead creases. “He said he would ‘get it back to her’. He wasn’t even touching it, was he?” Apollo shrugs. Ema shrugs too. “He knows something. More than he said.”

“He always does,” Apollo says.

They reach Eldoon’s, and Ema says that it’s weird to see the stand without a corpse attached. The look that Clay gives her makes her and Apollo both laugh. Once they have their noodles, they walk another few blocks to People Park and find a bench not far from where the noodle-stand crime scene once stood. Apollo has learned to be grateful for the mouthfuls of broth that taste of so much salt to sting. It feels a little more like safety, like salt across a doorway.

He starts to say what he’s thinking, that Trucy might be worried that the mitamah is her mother’s, or at least he is, but the words die on his tongue, shriveled by the salt. He doesn’t feel right to tell Clay and Ema about Trucy’s mother’s death, when he has no idea if Trucy knows or not. Phoenix has made him the guardian of family secrets that aren’t his and something about that feels wrong. Maybe necessary in some way, to understand the case, to understand what happened with Kristoph, but still wrong.

Instead, he helps Ema explain to Clay her earlier comments about Magnifi and blackmail. You can’t refuse, and we both know the reason why – Trucy can’t know he did that. She seemed to idolize him. What a hard way to fall.

He’ll text her tomorrow, Apollo decides. Check in, see how she’s doing.

(There’s probably someone else he should check in with, too, the events of this week all considered.)

#fic: the seelie of kurain #roddy fanfics #start your morning with some magic and gramarye fuckery wooooooooooo