#there's post body filtering too it's probably fine

[chrolloluvr]

💸 Ways Toxic!Mammon takes over your life as your controlling, doting boyfriend (pt.1?) 💸

Note: Female!Reader, AFAB (Whoever came up w/ voxtok shout out to you!!!), this also takes place before Fizz quit. Also not proofread!

Warnings: semi nsfw, cussing, manipulation, slut shaming, killing, dominance, toxic relationship goals!

Social media. As we all are aware, he has a huge influence online. He has millions and even billion of fans, which he can exploit and persuade very easily. He controls your accounts, people you follow, the things you post (if he even lets you post at all), etc. He controls all of your comments, and filters them. One time, your best friend had left a comment that said, "Damn girl, looking fine ASF", And he was fuming. He forbid you from ever seeing that 'friend' ever again.

You most likely have to make a secret account that you post on. And its very popular. It may consist of you talking about Mammons icks, dancing videos with him (you convinced him, because you told them they were privated.), which all most likely get millions of views. But lets hope Mammon does not find it, or else he will not be happy with you.

How you two as a couple are perceived. He cares alot about his public image. So he will pay out media outlets and news stations to percieve you, himself and your relationship in a good light. So lets say Mammon is getting "cancelled", (he never in a million years actually would, too many people look up to him and adore him.) for bringing supposed groupies backstage after an event he is hosting. Even if he actually did, he would pay the media huuuge amounts of money to get himself out of trouble. Same goes for you. Your poor choices reflect onto him as well, since you two are a very public couple.

Like I have said before in previous posts, you two are definitely the most watched, reported and popular couple in Hell. Sinners and native demons admire the dynamic between you two. So lets say you lash out at a fan for getting their camera too close to you? And then that fan posts footage on Voxtok or Sinstagram, you may get some backlash.

Lets be honest, Mammon probably wont jump to defend you unless it involves him in some way. If it does not involve him, he will block some people by logging into your account, (because he knows all of your passwords), but nothing more.

The clothes you wear. He buys you your clothes, so in his mind, he has every right to choose what goes on your body. If he sees you wearing something revealing, he will tell you 'you look like a slut babe. Where are you going, the fuckin' strip club?' He says shit like that even if your showing an inch of stomach. He for the most part wants you to wear things he chooses. He prefers if you two are matching all the time, but if you are just going out to get groceries, he likes when you wear oversized sweatshirts/hoodies, with leggings. I know its an oddly specific combo, but he thinks it doesn't show off any of your supple skin, and you look so appealing. Especially if its a brand Mammon owns. Mans will go feral. I feel like every time you leave the house with or without him, he will be sitting on the couch, saying 'C'mon, you know the drill cutie. show daddy what your gonna wear, yeah?'

He loves it when he sees you in a natural, underdressed state alone at home. His by far most treasured thing he likes to see on you, is you either in your bra and matching panties, or you in an oversized t shirt and panties with no bra. He especially likes those really dainty, "girly" colors and patterns. He likes seeing you dress feminine.

Calling him daddy. Yes you heard me. He has a huge power influx, and having you call him that fuels the fire in his ego. If its the morning, and you yawn and stretch out a tired, 'good mornin' daddy', he is hard. And this isn't even a fully sexual thing for him, since he isnt all that sexual extremely often. He just loves being called daddy. But if it were somebody else calling him that, they would get the death stare and an upset Mammon. But with you, he likes dominating you. So call him daddy. It will get him in a good mood, and If you want something from him? A daddy or two wont hurt.

Who you talk to. Once you two are together, he with subtly cut people out of your life that he thinks are a threat to your relationship. He will try to cut off any of your male friends or if you had any, your ex's. This sneaky man will probably send photos of you giving him head that he took without your permission. And he will never tell you he did that. Anyways, once he gets rid of all of these people, he will convince you that 'ohhh, princess, c'mon dont get your panties in a twist. Maybe they are just on vacation, you dont gotta act like a little whiny bitch-'. And by vacation, he means threatened, or killed.

He does not want you being influenced by anybody but himself. And especially not by any men. One of his many influx of issues is his jealousy/possession, (which I will get into on another post.) SO really the only other person besides himself that you can talk to are people he has met, and are proven to him to not uphold any power against him.

Meaning he will never let you meet Asmodeus. He is a horrible influence in his mind, and he does not was Ozzie to make you aware of his manipulation tactics. He may let you meet Beelz or Lucifer, but never Ozzie. He is the embodiment of lust, which is like toxic waste for your mind.

You bank account. If you need him to send funds, he will as long as you give him a little kiss on the cheek. But if you have been a bad girl, you might need to work for his money. If he is feeling particularly nice today, he will text you, sending a photo of the transfered funds he sent you, reading 25k+ sent. He loathes in the 'oh no you didn't have to Mamm' he gets from you, or the 'I feel bad, send it back!' Because in reality, he does not like to spend his money on anything useless. And to him, you aren't useless. So sharing some of his "hard earned" cash truly shows how he trusts and believes you wont go out on a limb for him.

And plus, now that your with him, he has taken all of your funds. He wont tell you that, even thought it didn't matter, considering how little you had compared to his trillion dollar net worth. So if you ever do stupidly decide to leave him, you wont be able to.

Puts a tracker on you, or has his goons follow you. This is another thing you are blissfully unaware of. He has an unreleased app on his phone, where he can see wherever you are at all times. While you were sleeping in your shared bedroom, he would put a tracker chip deep into you ear. So that he doesn't have to worry about his most prized possession running away when he isn't around. Or if he cant physically see you and he wants to? He has some loan sharks or his bodyguards follow you silently. I think awhile back, Mammon developed "Mammons Super Secret Spy Glasses", a product made for naive kids, and was released to the masses. But that transformed into an opportunity to exploit his goons into using them to spy on you. Do they want to creepily follow you? No. But can they refuse. Absolutely not. Nobody can refuse Mammon.

If somebody does take you somewhere, he will have his goons kill them, but come to the location and make it look like he killed them for your sake.

Controls where you can and cant go. He 100% does this. He wouldn't even let you in the vicinity of any kind of smoke shop, strip club, etc. He wants you to stay innocent, and naive for him. Meaning he will never let you in the lust ring, which alludes to the fact that him and Ozzie... aren't on the best terms per say. But will let you in any other ring under severe supervision. He cant have you doing any stupid shit to mess with his public image.

He wont even let you roam around in his own ring, because he is well aware of how dangerous it has become. He doesn't want his pretty little thing being kidnapped by some dirty, greasy men on the streets. But if you really want to go somewhere, he will let you go near there, but he will cover your eyes with his top two hands, and guide your waist with his bottom pair of hands somewhere he deems safe.

I also think he would follow you to the bathroom, and he would definitely offer to (does anyways) wipe for you.

How you act. Once you two are together, you will learn things the Mammon way. He will teach you how to become his esteemed future wife, and soon you might even have his kids (when he feels like babytrapping you, but that might be a later work.) He will teach you his version of manners, such as how to sit properly on his lap, teaching you how to french kiss (Which he assumes is your first time kissing somebody), How to sit still properly on his large cock, How to rock your hips just right-

He just wants you to be prepared for him. If he comes home at night, he expects the usual kiss on the cheek, asking him how his day was, and then the finale, which consists of your naked body and your legs being spread wider than his shit eating grin. He just wants to be ready to blow your back out, not having to worry about wasting time.

In the morning, he wants his breakfast served by none other than his obedient little princess. Then, he wants you to personally brush and floss his teeth. Then, he wants you to pick his outfit. (you will never truly get a say, he just wants to know from your perspective what makes him sexier.) And finally, the finishing act, holding your hair tightly into a makeshift ponytail, while he bobs your head up and down his cock.

Sexually frustrating you. After a while, you will miss his sexual touches. You will begin to crave them, as you will find yourself wanting him more and more. He is just so good at eating your pussy, and making you feel like your on cloud 9.

So don't be suprised if you find yourself humping his leg, as he bounces his thigh up and down to try and overstimulate you.

Makes you come to his shows. He will drag you to them. He does not care how tired you are, you will be there and sit pretty. He will let you in for free, but if you want a piece of merchandise, or some popcorn, he will make you pay. (even though its his money). When you first start dating, that is the case. But now that you two are officially an item? You sit up on the terrace with him in his webs. He has two of his left side arms wrapped around you, while he forces you to hand feed him.

And sometimes people catcall you from up above. One time, a couple dudes got drunk of Beelzejuice, and started berading you. By asking you to flash a peek of your tits, and show a little pussy. You were highly offended, but Mammon was not happy.

Those guys ended up in the E.R., but they would have died if it weren't for your expertise in calming Mammons temper. After that little incident, Mammon had later that day taken your ass on a one way ticket to pound town. So you can thank those guys, I guess...

Anyways, what if you need to use the bathroom during a show? He pauses the entire thing, because he wants you to watch how good of a planner and mastermind he is at pageants. Will literally wait outside of the bathroom door for you, and checks his watch if your taking "too long".

But anyways, he will also try to get you and Fizzarolli to be friends, since both of you are basically brainwashed by him.

The things you buy. He will not ever let you buy any cheap shit. Its a bad look on his behalf. So every time you two go out, you have to ask him if you can get something. If he deems it as "not doing anything for your look", he will make you put it back. And this goes for everything. Online orders, Voxtok shop (tiktok shop), etc. It always has to be approved by him.

Also, he will never let you buy any sex toys. He thinks his fingers, tongue and dick are more than plenty. If you ask him for any sex toys, he will call you an ungrateful little whore. So its best if you don't ask, unless you want Mammons over the top mumbling and grumbling.

Emotionally manipulating you. He will do this all the time. If he ever does something wrong, he will never admit to it. He will either never glaze over it, or will turn it on you somehow. It will start with his angry grunting, huffing, and puffing. If you ever ask him if he is ok, he will literally whip his head towards you and give you the most deadly glare you will ever see. His Aussie accent will come out very abruptly when he's mad.

Throw the worlds biggest temper tantrums. Sometimes you think hes a baby in an adult mans body. Some of his have gone on for days on end. He will pull every trick in the book. Whining and fake crying are things he has tried to use on you.

If he is really ruffled up, he will start yelling at you for no reason whatsoever. He just yells a bunch of belligerent bullshit, and does not give any reason why. Truly, the best thing to do to calm him down is spread your legs nice and wide, and let him lap at your cunt for hours. If he is 'borderline dangerous' mad, he will refuse to talk to you for a couple days. Even if you try, he wont budge. Deep down, he cares for you. And he knows that if he gives in, he might hurt you.

If he wants something from you, he will flash his infamous puppy dog eyes. (Bottom photo below), But if he is annoyed with you, he will make the deadly glare (Top photo below)

So, just try your best to keep him calm and happy. Even if that is through means you don think are necessary 💚

#mammon x reader #helluva boss #hazbin hotel #hb mammon #mammon #mammon hb #mammon x reader hb #alastor x reader #lucifer x reader #mammon x you #mammon x y/n #hb mammon x reader #mammon hcs #mammon fluff #adam x reader #helluva x you #helluva x y/n #hazbin x you #hazbin x y/n #mammon smut #mammon smut hb #alastor smut #Hazbin hotel smut #Hazbin hotel fluff #Helluva boss fluff #Helluva boss Smut

[greenglowinspooks]

(DCxDP) Drowning in formaldehyde (Pt. 2)

—

Tw: canon-typical violence (Batman), emetophobia at one point

Will be crossposted to AO3 eventually

(Pt. 1)

(Masterlist/subscription post)

—

Danny sat in the back of one of the transport trucks currently on the way to Arkham, his hands in his lap.

So far, everything was going to plan.

About a quarter of the team had gotten themselves admitted into Arkham in the days leading up to the raid, carefully sneaking in supplies and weapons for both themselves and the rogues they were going to free.

Half of the team was on trucks, ready to storm the building with their fancy new tech. A couple others were keeping an eye out for the Bats, and the last one was holed up in a recently condemned building, ecto-modified sniper rifle in hand, ready to fire.

Danny’s hands were cold.

He hadn’t always run cold, from what he remembered. Even after he died—hell, even after he started developing his ice powers—he had always been warm.

Now, though, his body was freezing.

Maybe it was because of the ecto siphoning he and Derringer had done the day before.

He couldn’t make the ecto guns work without fueling them, after all, and the only ectoplasm he had access to was the stuff inside his body. So, he had Derringer hook him up to a GiW machine and filter the ecto out of his blood.

The process was excruciating.

Not only did he get light-headed from the loss of fluids, the machine also chilled his blood considerably during the filtering process, and when it was pumped back into his body, it was freezing. Derringer had to cover him with heating pads and thick blankets to get him to stop shaking.

Still, that had been a little over eighteen hours ago, so that probably wasn’t it.

Maybe it was just another side affect of his time with the GiW.

Overuse of his ghostly wail, he had realized earlier, was the reason that he had lost his voice permanently. Maybe he had accidentally used his ice too many times the same way, and now his body was irrevocably changed. Maybe warmth was just another tiny privilege he had taken for granted, that had now been lost forever.

Danny stared down at his hands.

Maybe his body had just given up entirely on keeping him warm, on pretending to be human.

“Kid, you alright? We’re almost there.”

Derringer’s voice snapped Danny out of his thoughts.

“Yeah,” Danny signed, “just tired. And cold.”

“We’ve got to get you a jacket, kid,” Derringer said, “it’s not even winter and I already have to worry about you freezing to death.”

“I died a long time ago, it’s fine.”

“No,” one of the other men in the truck drawled, “it means you’ve got to be extra careful. You’ve got a second chance at living, so you better not screw it up.”

“What did he say?”

“Danny thinks that because he’s died before, he doesn’t need to worry about freezing to death.”

The truck went quiet for a few moments. Most of the guys in there didn’t know he had died before. He didn’t exactly like to advertise the fact.

“I have a cousin who had a heart attack, and it only made his heart worse,” one of the guys near the front of the truck offered.

“See, kid?” Derringer said, “I’m right. As soon as this is over, you’re getting a jacket.”

Danny crossed his arms, slumping over in his seat with a huff.

A few moments later, a loud clang echoed through the truck. Danny jolted, almost falling out of his seat.

The door opened, the driver looking at them with boredom written all over his face.

“Alright, up and at em. It’s go time,” he mumbled, smacking the door loudly for emphasis. “The sooner we’re done, the sooner we can leave.”

They all stood, hopping out of the truck and making their way to the fence line.

Danny moved his hand to the bandolier on his chest, fingers brushing against the small ecto-bombs he had attached to it.

There were five of them, their bodies made of tempered glass and black steel, and they glowed a sickly green in the night. They were designed mainly for combat; he had a few larger ones meant to blow a hole in a wall in his backpack, which was securely zipped shut.

His hand then drifted to the holster on his left side, and the ecto-gun nestled securely within it.

Most of his parents’ inventions were far too big and bulky to be practical in any real combat setting, so he had downsized them considerably. The weapon he had was modeled after a standard glock pistol, matte black paint covering the GiW white of the gun’s body.

The gun should be able to fire around fifty shots a minute without overheating, which was more than enough for Danny. Hopefully, he wouldn’t have to fire a single round tonight. However, for whatever reason, the words should and hopefully didn’t inspire much confidence in him.

Danny followed the group as they snuck up to the facility, Derringer by his side.

Originally, neither of them were going to go on the raid, but someone on the patient list had caught Danny’s eye, so he decided he would investigate in person. Derringer was just along for the ride because Mr. Cobblepot wasn’t willing to lose an asset as valuable as Danny.

Danny would make it up to the bodyguard later, he decided.

Entering Arkham was, all things considered, pretty easy. Mr. Cobblepot had connections to a few of the orderlies, and it was all too easy to convince them to “forget” a few steps in setting up the security system for the night.

However, since nothing can ever just be simple, they ran into an unexpected patrol of nightshift guards just a few minutes after all splitting up to find the rogues.

Danny and Derringer were able to take them down pretty quickly, but not before they sounded the alarms. And, according to a few guys on the comms, they weren’t the only ones to run into guards where they shouldn’t be.

“They must have changed their patrols,” Derringer huffed, spinning the pistol in his hands, “c’mon, let’s go see about freeing our good friend Victor Fries.”

Danny nodded, scampering after the man as he sprinted through the halls.

The inmates, who had woken up from the loud alarm’s continuous blaring, shouted at them from their cells. Danny’s pulse was loud in his ears, drowning everything out.

Distantly, he wondered if those guards were going to die. Maybe they were dead already.

He supposed that it didn’t really change much if they were.

Soon, they were at the cell. It was custom-built to hold Mr. Freeze, constantly kept at subzero temperatures to avoid killing him.

Derringer hefted his bag off of his back, pulling out the suit and freeze gun that Mr. Cobblepot had procured. As he did so, Danny took a few of the larger ecto-bombs and placed them on the joints of the door.

They carefully moved away, putting some distance between themselves and the door, and Danny detonated it.

The explosion was loud. It shook the entire building, the shockwave knocking Danny to the floor.

Danny brought his hand up to his safety goggles, yanking a small piece of metal shrapnel out of them and dropping it on the floor. He was dimly aware of more pieces sticking out of his kevlar suit. Derringer was similarly peppered with metal, luckily uninjured as well.

They had come from the body and mechanism of the bomb, he realized. He’d have to fix that later.

Mr. Freeze emerged from the cell a few moments later, a scowl on his face. Derringer quickly shoved the suit and freeze gun into his hands and he retreated back into the cell for a few moments, getting dressed.

“I could have died from that, you know,” he hissed. “Killed by some amateurs with shoddy explosives.”

“The Penguin sent us,” Derringer said, ignoring the man’s clear annoyance, “our getaway car is outside. If you’d come with us…”

Mr. Freeze nodded sternly.

“Hurry up, then.”

Derringer and Danny hurried out, Mr. Freeze right behind them. Then, at a certain hallway, Danny paused.

He had to check.

“Kid,” Derringer barked, “we have to go.”

Danny shook his head.

“You go,” he signed, hands trembling, “I have to check.”

“Oh, what’s the problem now?” Mr. Freeze asked, his frown more pronounced by the minute.

“Danny…” Derringer sighed, “Danny thinks his sister might be in here. He hasn’t seen her in years. It’s the whole reason he was a part of the Arkham raid, actually.”

Mr. Freeze paused for a moment.

“Well, lead the way, then,” he said, clearly regretting his words as soon as he said them. Danny just nodded, scurrying forward, the other two men close behind him.

They came to the right cell quickly. Danny looked in through the glass, and he felt a piece of himself shatter.

That was Jazz, his sister, sitting in a padded wall wearing a straightjacket and a muzzle.

She didn’t bother looking up at them as they arrived, not stirring even when Danny slammed his hands on the door to get her attention.

Shakily, he attached an ecto-bomb to the door, hoping with all his might that she wouldn’t get hurt.

The door blew open, and Danny rushed in.

Jazz’s head swiveled to look up at him, her eyes narrowed.

He slipped the goggles up and his bandanna down, exposing his face as he came to kneel beside her.

Slowly, her expression shifted to shock.

“Jazz,” he creaked, his broken vocal chords cracking painfully as he spoke, “it’s me.”

She looked at him like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Danny?”

He nodded, pulling her into a hug, careful not to let the shrapnel dig into her skin.

“I thought you were…”

“Very heartwarming,” Mr. Freeze snapped, “but now isn’t the time. We’ve got to go, now.”

Jazz nodded, leaping to her feet. Danny stood as well, slipping his mask and bandanna back on, and grabbing onto one of her arms for support.

They left the cell, Danny doing a double-take as he saw the frozen-over pathway that they had just come from. He looked to Mr. Freeze, tilting his head questioningly.

“There were guards,” he said flatly. “Now hurry up, we need to get out of here.”

Derringer grabbed the two of them, dragging them along as he sprinted through the hallways. They had to take a bit of a detour, coming out of the main entrance instead of the side one they had entered.

Unfortunately, there was an active gunfight going down.

Danny was roughly pulled behind a desk, just barely dodging a few rounds.

His hands shook as he pulled a small ecto-bomb from his bandolier, priming it and throwing it at a small grouping of night guards. They cried out as the pure ectoplasm collided with them, covering their bodies in burns.

The smell, while familiar to Danny, was still horrific.

They took a few shots off at the night guards, trying to take them down. Their group was efficient, but with the rate they were going at, it wasn’t going to be enough. Only adding to that, the gun Mr. Cobblepot had prepared for Mr. Freeze had broken after just a few uses, leaving them unable to create an ice wall.

Then, Danny heard the sound of a gun’s safety being turned off behind them, and his vision went white.

He grabbed onto Jazz and Derringer, making them intangible right as the night guard opened fire.

Waves of nausea hit him all at once and he doubled over, his vision swimming. Danny was only dimly aware of Jazz taking the guard down with a high kick right to the head, and Derringer pulling him into a protective hold.

Ignoring everything, he pulled the last of the large bombs from his bag, throwing it into the air, pulling everyone behind the desk.

The entire room went white.

Danny’s ears rung as he scrambled out from behind the reception desk, dragging Jazz with him.

Luckily, none of the hired hands on his team had gotten injured, but the guards…

Danny looked away, trying to ignore the taste of bile in his mouth.

It was fine. He was fine. Everything would be okay.

The next few minutes were a blur. He knew that he had puked only a few seconds after they had left the building, and that Derringer had picked him up afterwards, carrying him to the truck with Mr. Freeze and Jazz in tow.

Danny’s entire body was wracked with tremors, an unbearable phantom pain passing through the still-healing surgical wounds in his head and torso like lightning. He dry-heaved, shivering uncontrollably.

They drove off soon after. Luckily, no one had been left behind. Someone, probably Derringer, helped Danny rinse out his mouth and got him a bottle of water to drink, wrapping him in his jacket.

As soon as the truck doors were opened within one of Mr. Cobblepot’s safehouses, Danny became aware of the sound of wailing.

Hopping out of the truck, most of his mind still far away, he saw a man being rolled out of the room on a stretcher. He was one of the people who had been on the other truck, Danny realized.

Beside him was a teenager, probably only a few years younger than Danny, who was screaming and crying uncontrollably. They wailed at Mr. Cobblepot, who only stood there with an uncomfortable expression on his face.

“Oh shit,” Derringer breathed. Danny pulled on his sleeve, tilting his head at him questioningly.

“The guy on the stretcher, that’s his sibling.”

Danny just stared, a hollow feeling deep in his chest.

Jazz, her arms now freed from the straightjacket, pulled him away from the scene. Danny let her.

—

#dcxdp #dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #dc x dp fic #vengeful danny #villain danny #btw Danny’s just cold because he has an iron deficiency. lmao #girl this is what happens when you don’t eat for two years. you get deficiencies. now stop angsting and eat your veggies #also my descriptions of the ecto filter come from donating blood plasma + platelets #Danny is Going Through It™️ #btw I’m finishing this chapter at 3:03 am #just in case you thought I didn’t care about you all #btw the guy who’s injured’s sibling is a surprise tool that will help us later #also I was totally gonna kill Derringer at first. btw #but y’all avoided that with the poll. also it would have been a bit cheap imo

[learnyouabiology]

Fun Fact: Starfish get around using a hydraulic system!

I want to start off by saying: you may have heard that starfish have sea water instead of blood! This is not true!

Before I explain, let me point out this little dot that every starfish has (and I SWEAR that this is relevant)

(It’s like they all have lil’ buttons on! 1, 2, 3)

This little spot is known as a madreporite, from Italian madre (”mother”) + Latin poro (”pore”). 

What is it? Well, to over-simplify:

The madreporite is basically a pressure valve for the insides of the starfish. It lets water in and out of its water vascular system as needed. In order to prevent debris and sea life and other non-desirables from getting inside the starfish, the madreporite filters the water that it takes in.

this is what the madreporite looks like up close:

(Name origin: apparently someone saw that and thought “huh, that kind of looks like madrepore coral, but tiny! They... weren’t wrong.)

Now, you may look at the name “water vascular system” and think “hey, I know ‘vascular’! That's related to blood!” This is a reasonable misunderstanding.

While in humans, the circulatory system is part of a vascular system (along with our lymphatic system) in the starfish’s water vascular system, seawater is NOT analogous to blood in a circulatory system. Or, well, it’s complicated, because it does do some things that are similar to a mammalian circulatory system, such as transporting certain types of immune cells, but still (source: Ferguson 1966)

Instead, these seawater-filled tubes are used for things such as the movement of starfish arms (and their little tube feet), which in turn allows them to move around their environment, find and consume food, and stick to surfaces. Mammals generally don’t use their circulatory systems in this way (if I am wrong about this, PLEASE let me know, as that would be absolutely WILD).

(diagram of a starfish’s water-vascular system, revealing the starfish’s final form: some sort of fidget toy, I think)

I admit that “starfish use seawater instead of blood” is a much more attention-grabbing headline, but it’s not true, and it’s also kind of sad, because the water-vascular system is really cool without the misinformation!

(before you ask, yes, this entire post was prompted by one (1) person saying something that was WRONG, and that person may or may not have been related to me 😤😭😭😭😭😭)

The water-vascular system is, essentially, a hydraulic system. By adding and expelling water, as well as opening and closing internal channels via muscle contractions, starfish can create positive and negative pressure within their bodies. This allows them to “flex” their tube feet in surprisingly complex ways, among other functions.

(these^ are a starfish’s “tube feet”. They are little structures with suckers on the ends. If you’ve ever held a starfish in your hands, you probably felt these feet holding onto you. They have a surprising amount of strength!)

You can imagine this sort of like how a whacky inflatable tube man uses air pressure to straighten up and fall down, except with hundreds in one connected, complex system (and also the pressure is more tightly controlled in order to prevent all that flailing, and also to allow fine control required for things like ripping open a mollusc shell).

(I always imagine this when looking at starfish tube feet. And now, maybe you will too! join me. 1, 2)

The confusion regarding starfish blood being seawater is understandable, but in the end it’s essentially a misunderstanding.

Plus, starfish have coelomic fluid, which is honestly more analogous to blood.

Coelomic fluid is, basically, the fluid that fills the starfish’s body cavity between all of its organs and such, facilitating nutrient transport, gas exchange, and overall being more blood-like than the water-vascular system in general (Andradre et al. 2021).

And ok, technically the liquid part of coelomic fluid comes from seawater, ultimately, but that would be like saying I, a human, use tap water for blood. And, ok, yes, there is water in my blood, and that water came from the tap, but no one would say that I have tap water instead of blood! Except my brother but he also says trigonometry doesn’t exist so we will be ignoring his opinion at this time.

(a more detailed diagram than the one before. The coelomic fluid is found in the coelomic cavity! Also, as a bonus, you now know where a starfish’s anus is! Enjoy this new knowledge next time you look at a starfish! source: x)

Starfish aren’t the only animals with a water vascular system and a madreporite. They can also be spotted in other echinoderms, such as sea urchins, sand dollars, and sea cucumbers (although in the sea cucumber the madreporite is inside the animal, so you probably won’t see it in the wild).

That said, starfish have my favourite madraporites, because I think they look like little badges. They all win the award of being lil friends (and also keystone species that are essential to many marine ecosystems. So.)

This has been Fun Fact Friday, telling you all about wacky lil friends who have funny little feet and DO NOT HAVE SEAWATER INSTEAD OF BLOOD!

I will do battle with my sibling later, as is tradition

Sources under Read More:

Andrade, C., Oliveira, B., Guatelli, S., Martinez, P., Simões, B., Bispo, C., ... & Coelho, A. V. (2021). Characterization of coelomic fluid cell types in the starfish Marthasterias glacialis using a flow cytometry/imaging combined approach. Frontiers in Immunology, 807. 

Ferguson, J. C. (1966). Cell production in the Tiedemann bodies and haemal organs of the starfish, Asterias forbesi. Transactions of the American Microscopical Society, 200-209.

Mao, S., Dong, E., Zhang, S., Xu, M., & Yang, J. (2013, July). A new soft bionic starfish robot with multi-gaits. In 2013 IEEE/ASME International Conference on Advanced Intelligent Mechatronics (pp. 1312-1317). IEEE.

#biology #science #stem #fun fact friday #science side of tumblr #animals #starfish #marine biology #there are many benefits to being a marine biologist #such as knowing the location of a starfish's butthole

[kumezyzo]

nsfw bf!sapnap x female!reader....so, minors do not interact! read it or whatever idgaf just dont reblog or comment or like the post. its pretty long already but it could have been longer lol.

so enjoy! or dont.... :) m.list

bf!sapnap who invites you over to the house to hang out like normal but it just so happens that you two get pulled into drinking by the other two

bf!sapnap who would have a few too many white claws and gets a little more touchy the more the alcohol starts to hit. feelin up the sides of you waist and hips, messing with the bottom of your shorts, and pressing himself into you

bf!sapnap who heavily denies it when george notices the bulge in his shorts and starts laughing loudly about it while calling him weird

bf!sapnap who has to pull you to his room into because he cant handle the ache between his legs. but obviously he cant pull you away without the other two saying something.

"wait, nick where are you going!?" dream asked loudly, giggling with george

"ew he's gonna go have sex" george scrunched up his face in disgust

"so what if i am?" sapnap would respond, pushing you up the stairs

bf!sapnap would then immediately kiss you once he closed the door behind him, locking it and pushing you towards the bed

he would make you sit as he gets down on his knees and starts kissing down your body

bf!sapnap who groans happily when you throw his hat off his head and grip tightly onto his hair. all while he practically rips your shorts off and kisses up and down your thighs

bf!sapnap who licks up your slit through your panties, humming at the warmth radiating from you. he forcefully tugs them off and presses rough kisses on your slit, smiling at the way you throw your head back and tug harder at his hair

HE cant handle teasing you so much. he cant help but to start eating you out desperately. if he was being honest, he was probably enjoying it more than you. with every jaw movement he made, his beard rubbed against you deliciously

bf!sapnap who would make you cum so nicely and lick up every drop that spills out of you, making you squirm away from him and push his head away.

or

bf!sapnap who gets so worked up with you sitting on his lap and kissing up and down his neck. he would have his hands holding your hips and waist, trying to grind up into you as discretely as possible

bf!sapnap who tries to act like youre not affecting him so much when you ask him if hes alright as you grind down into him slowly

bf!sapnap who cant help it when he moans at a particular grind of your hips and the unbelievable amount of heat radiating from your core

bf!sapnap who has to hurridly pull you off his lap to remove his sweatpants and boxers. and if you happen to not be moving fast enough for him, he'll help you out by practically tearing your own pants and underwear off of your legs

bf!sapnap who grips your hips tightly and forces you to straddle him before he kisses you roughly, placing one hand on your neck and the other one on your waist

he would start rocking his hips against you, shuddering at the feeling of your wet slit running along his dick

bf!sapnap who pulls away from the kiss and presses his forehead against yours when you start to rub yourself against him.

he fills with a sense of pride when you moan softly at the heat hes giving off between the lips of your pussy

bf!sapnap who helps you grind against him faster. he moans right against your ear as the wet sounds fill the room, his words barely filtering in your mind

"fuck, peaches, im not even- fuck- inside you... and you feel so fucking good. shit."

"yea?" it comes out like a whine, "you like me grinding on you like this?"

"yea- shit- cum on my cock. fuck- go ahead"

lol. it wasnt too detailed but whatever. remember to send asks, comment, or like to show support, i really appreciate it. or dont, thats fine too lol. thats it... bye -Nony

#sapnap x reader #sapnap smut #sapnap x you #sapnap #sapnap is just #😫😫😫 #dteam #mentions of dream #and george #cause theyre defffff in love #anyway #sapnap fics #sapnap ff #sapnap x y/n

[tackytigerfic]

Might you have a new or old excerpt to share with us in this ao3 draught?

Hi Anon, I like your thinking! Feeling very sorry for the AO3 bods who are working so hard to get things under control again.

I am only working on one fic atm and I haven't got anything new at the moment. I have shared all excerpts from my long WIP under this tag: tacky's fth. As usual with tumblr's search function i can't find loads of them though.

I also have a few short fics posted in full on tumblr; you can find links to some tumblr posts here and here, and there's also this, this, this, and this!

I do have a few WIPs that I haven't touched in years so here's the opener to one of them. I've popped it under a cut as it has some mild references to sex and bodies so is probably a soft M rating. The start of this fic takes place soon after 8th year and features down-and-out Draco who has lost all his family money and is working two jobs. He's also seeing Harry who is still quite fucked up. Later in the fic, Draco leaves and goes to work at a caravan park in France. And then Harry follows him out there and they get back together. But this part of the fic is before all that. CW for drinking, drunkenness, financial hardship, a bit of angst, mild refs to smut.

Read it below the cut!

“I don’t really do a lot outside of work,” Draco said, but he could see Harry didn’t believe him, though he wasn’t sure it mattered very much. Harry was lying on his back, so Draco could really look at him, and the light was perfect for it—London summer evening light, a vivid wash of sun filtering through the horrible net curtains at the flat window, rosy gold and brimming with the potential of the stretched out, elastic length of day. It could have been any time from noon to dinnertime, except that Draco knew the direction the window faced and how the sun moved. Being this high up meant cheap rent and nothing to see through the window but a rectangle of blue like a corridor of sky. 

Harry was sweating. 

“I got the water last time,” he said in a wheedling tone, and turned abruptly onto his side so he could be closer to Draco, tucking a hand under his cheek. He never seemed to mind Draco knowing he was watching him, and his eyes were amused and knowing and very green against the white pillowcase. “And my throat…” 

He coughed pathetically, and then followed the line of Draco’s rising flush with his finger, all the way from his chest, along his neck, until he was tracing Draco’s cheekbone. Draco could feel the memory of Harry eager and pliant in the heat, on his knees in front of the big window, and his mouth, Draco bracing his hands against the glass at the momentary, muscular constriction of Harry’s throat around his cock, his own unthinking thrust and all that heat. Harry’s curls had been dark and flat with sweat at his hairline as Draco scrabbled to touch, and then pulled Harry to standing with a gentle tug, suddenly, horribly fearing that it would all be over too soon, before they even got to the bed.

“Fine, I’ll get you a drink,” he told Harry, who only smiled a little and wriggled further down in the bed, shutting his eyes, though Draco knew he was watching when Draco stretched at the side of the bed and walked through to the little kitchenette. Aguamenti water never tasted quite right.

Through the squeak and splutter of the tap running, he heard Harry’s voice, and waited until he turned the tap off and the pipe had stopped thumping before shouting, “What?” back into the bedroom. He popped some bread into the toaster.

“I said”—his voice really was ragged and used-sounding, Draco thought, swallowing at the memory—“are you going to Hannah’s thing on Saturday?”

“What’s Hannah’s thing?” Draco called back, intercepting the pop of the toaster. The butter was liquid at the edges in the heavy old butter dish, the golden mound of it collapsing when he stuck the knife in, running in a translucent slick down the blade. The kitchen smelled ripe and over-sweet in the heat.

“Hannah’s thing for the new beer garden.” Harry appeared in the doorway, curls in his eyes, face flushed, mouth reddened, the soft hang of his cock still wet at the tip. He looked so happy. Sometimes, Draco still hated him a little bit.

“I’m working,” Draco told him flatly. Draco was always working, either at his weird day job where he showed tourists around a big National Trust house while being impossibly posh about it, or picking up shifts in the pub on the corner where they charged four quid a pint, and sold flabby cheese toasties that they called Croques Monsieur, and where people liked Draco more the ruder he was to them, when he served them mint juleps in jam jars and messed up the head of their pints of mediocre Guinness just because he could.

“Oh right,” Harry said blankly, “I forgot. Course you’re working, sorry.” He scratched his stomach absent-mindedly, opening the fridge to look inside, as though something might have magically appeared in there since the night before when he had staggered out of Draco’s bed with a red handprint on one arse cheek, and a darkening bruise just under his jawline, claiming starvation. He’d ordered takeaway, of course, something extravagant and delicious-smelling from a curry house Draco had never heard of. “I could come over after, if you like. Or you could come to mine, I suppose, I think Nev’s going to have a bit of a do there for Hannah to celebrate.”

Harry lived in the old Black house with a vaguely threatening-sounding number of Gryffindors. “The place has ten bedrooms,” Harry had shrugged when he first told Draco about it. “It’s great because I never feel alone there. But privacy… yeah, that’s the problem.”

They had nothing but privacy in Draco’s place: —the ground floor flat was vacant, a 'To Let' sign faded and curling-edged in the window, and Maureen just downstairs from Draco was hard of hearing and spent most of the day and night with the telly blaring. It covered up all the noises Draco and Harry made, because Draco kept odd hours and Harry didn’t really have a proper job so they could often snatch some time together here and there in the middle of the day, when the light was cleanest and the day felt suspended between start and end. Harry loved Draco’s flat, he said it reminded him of Eighth Year, and the small single bedrooms in the North Tower, the rolling green of the Quidditch pitch spreading out below them. Draco didn't care about the flat either way; all he could see was, not the Manor, not home, just function. It was clean and he had enough room even when Harry was staying over, his sleeping body like a hot stone lodged on Draco’s sternum, the slow drifting off and the lazy waking all muddled up with Harry’s skin and Harry’s scent on the pillow and Harry turning sideways in the shower to allow Draco to stand under the hot spray. It didn’t often feel like too much.

“I could pop over for a while.” Draco buttered the toast busily, thought tiredly about the week ahead. He needed a calendar, something for the wall maybe, so he could write it all down. Maybe a little notebook with one of those planner things in it. “Depends on how late I have to stay at Wonder and Egg. I think Beatriz has to leave early that night.”

Harry already had the kettle on, steam unfurling languidly to hang in the still air of the kitchen. The smell of toast was making Draco ravenous all of a sudden. He wondered if he had time to make a second round before he had to shower. He wanted to make sure he’d be able to take his time in there, with Harry docile and pliable under the tepid stream.

“Why don’t you tell Beatriz we have something on?” Harry nabbed a slice from the plate, tongue lapping at the slide of butter. Beatriz loved him, said he reminded her of her dad, but that was just weird because Harry was younger than her and charmingly gallant towards Draco whenever she was around, in a way that Draco wished he’d quit. Whenever Harry met Draco from work and did his thing—opening doors, helping Draco with his coat, skimming a kiss off the edge of Draco’s knuckles like it was some sort of inside joke—Beatriz would watch with bright eyes. He’s good for you, that boy, she’d told Draco a hundred times. Takes care of you. Draco never said anything to that, because Harry was kind, and he did try to do nice things for Draco. But Harry could barely take care of himself, not in any productive way anyway, and not that he seemed to care. Draco couldn’t resent him for it; Draco had been the same once. He wasn’t anymore—didn’t have time for that luxury, not when he was crawling into bed after another closing shift to try to make up the rest of his rent with tip money, or when he felt like he might scream if he had to smile at the same fucking joke yet again when he was doing his tour guide act. “Do you come with the house?” as though he’d be doing his languid and unimpressed act five tours a day if he came with a four-hundred-year-old Grade 1 listed building on the bank of the Thames. Draco took care of everything himself, these days. 

“I can’t skip work this week,” he told Harry shortly, and took his toast through to the front room so he didn’t have to see the sympathetic shift of Harry’s face when it finally occurred to him that it was nearly the start of the month, which meant rent day. Harry never talked money with him—he probably thought Draco was too proud, but that had all been buried along with Narcissa when they released her body from Azkaban. Draco had known she wouldn’t make it, known it like he knew she knew it the day they let him say goodbye before they sentenced her, but the day the Owl came from the governor Draco had to call in sick to work. He had lain on the floor of his flat, looking up at the Lincrusta ceiling and wondering if his legs would hold him up again. They did of course, they held him when he took the boat to Azkaban to collect his mother’s effects, and through the funeral, where it was just him and Theo and a pale-faced Andromeda, and no one cried. Draco was sure if he started he wouldn’t stop. 

Draco was on his own from then on, the shock of it almost too much but never quite. Motherless. He was fatherless too, of course, but with a father like his that didn’t seem so bad.

“I don’t care about the party,” Harry said, voice contrite, pushing against Draco from behind, teeth grazing against his shoulder as they looked out the open window. “I’ll just come straight here from the pub. I can stay the night, if you like.”

It was horrible, being lonely, but Draco knew that even if he wasn’t, he would still want Harry Potter in his bed when he crawled in at the end of a long night, and sometimes that was the worst feeling of all.

“Fine,” he said, and shoved the crust of the toast into his mouth before Harry could steal it. “But don’t skip out on my account, not if the party’s any good. And don’t wake me up if I’m already asleep.” 

“I’m sick of parties,” Harry said tiredly. “We haven’t even cleared the drawing room after the last one, the place is a state.” He turned Draco around to face him, slipped his hot bare arms around Draco’s waist. “I’ll be quiet, I promise.”

Was there a word, Draco wondered, for the feeling of wanting to fix things for someone so badly that you’d drive yourself nearly crazy with it? Harry’s arms tightened around him at his sigh.

“I know you will,” Draco told him, low and quiet in his ear even though there was no one around to hear. “You’re so good, aren’t you? So good for me.” From outside, the flat blare of an ambulance almost drowned out the small hitching noise Harry made in his throat.

They pushed the bathroom window up as far as it would go while they showered. That high up, there was nothing to see but sky.

#drarry #wip snip #rowing and writing #down and out draco #and just after 8th year #and draco pov #all of those things are way out of my comfort zone #this is all unedited too btw #sorry abt that but am poorly today #mustn't spend too long looking at a screen! #of course i post this just as ao3 returns lmao #hurrah!

[onemeangreenbean]

Anything Ch 3

SUMMARY: On the precipice of death Wynter does the only thing she can think to do to save herself. Something that is forbidden in her practice….to summon a demon and make a deal. The demon that answers her call ask what Wynter is offering  and in her delirious state she answers with the only thing she can think of  “Anything”.

PAIRING: Demon!Yoongi x BlackWitch OC 

GENRE: Demon AU, Mystery, Strangers to Lovers, Soulmates, Smut, Fluff, Angst, slowburn

WARNINGS: violence, gore, murder (maybe), eventual smut, panic attacks, honestly my brain has stopped but promise each chapter with have individual warnings!

WORDCOUNT: 5,550

Previous | Next

Anything Masterlist | Masterlist

Sunlight filtered in through the crack in the blinds. Slowly waking Wynter out of her sleep. Her body heavy and sluggish as she rolled over and to grab her phone. It was 7:45 am, meaning that she was already running late to work. While Namjoon did get to the store extremely early, he was usually busy prepping and maintaining all the spells or rituals that were working overnight. Though if she called and told him she wasn’t feeling well, he probably wouldn’t mind. Wynter had never called off since she started working, but knowing Namjoon he would stop by to check on her and that was not something she could afford with Yoongi posted up on her couch. 

Head pounding Wynter pulled herself up and texted Namjoon.

Wynter: Good morning best boss in the world! I will be a bit late. I’m feeling a bit under the weather but I’m fine to come in. 

Joonie: You don’t need to come in if you’re not feeling well. I can handle the place by myself today. I actually think Tae might be able to come and help today. I’ll stop by afterwards to check on you

This is exactly what she didn’t want. 

Wynter: Really I’m fine to come in. Nothing my mama’s secret tea can’t fix. I promise I’m fine. If I show up and you think otherwise you can kick me out!

Joonie: Okay…..but don’t push yourself too hard.

With some extra time added to her morning. Wynter removed herself from her bed and made her way to the bathroom. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Yoongi was still sprawled on the couch asleep, feet hanging off the end. Only a little tuft of long black hair poking out of the blanket. Wynter smiled a little at the sight before closing the bathroom door behind her. 

Quickly showering and going through her morning routine. Wynter threw on her green silk bathrobe and went to go make her tea. When she exited she saw the Yoongi was no longer asleep but awake. Wrapped in her blanket he was watching tv and eating a bowl of cereal. Cheeks still puffy with sleep and hair a mess. His eyes slowly dragged their way over to her form in acknowledgment before going back to the tv. “Good morning.” Wynyer greeted as she made her way around the couch and to the kitchen. 

She pulled open the drawer where she kept her teas. The 1 oz  mason jars were organized in neat little rows labeled clearly on the top. The joys of having an herbalist as a mom was that Wynter never had a shortage of tea for any occasion or aliment. Finding the mason jar labeled “For Mama’s Baby” in her mama’s neat handwriting, Wynter plucked it up and opened it. The scent of peppermint and lavender filled her nose and instantly reminded her of home. 

It was a special blend that helped with illnesses of all sort. Really a catch all tea for when you didn’t know what was wrong - 9 times out of 10 it worked. Yoongi watched her from the couch as she walked around the kitchen and made her tea. When she made to turn around he fixed his attention back to the random show that was on and stuffed his face with more cereal. 

“Is it good?” Wynter sat on the other end of her small couch, leaving enough space for a person between them. Her floor length rope falling open a bit showing her smooth leg, while she sipped her tea. 

“Yeah,” Yoongi mumbled with his mouth full. They sat in comfortable silence and watched the anime that was on. Wynter wondered if this was what it was gonna be like for the next five years. That was honestly still crazy to her. Five years was so long. She watched Yoongi as he stared intensely at they screen, he brow furrowed in thought, pulling his lips into a pout as he tried to understand what was happening on the screen. Cute. 

“Do you plan on just staring at me all morning or do you not have work today?” Wynter chocked a little on her tea as he called her out. Feeling her face warm a bit. Yoongi smirked at how cute she looked flustered. 

Averting her eyes she took another sip of the calming tea before she spoke. “I wanted to say thank you for last night. You didn’t have to help me.” It had taken her by surprise that he took the time to help calm her panic attack down. While he was still aloof and cold his touch had been gentle, grounding her. 

Now it was Yoongi’s turn to feel flustered. Scratching the back of his neck, he placed the empty bowl on the small coffee table in front of him. “Don’t worry about it. I’m gonna do some digging into this Jiyeon girl and see if I can find out anything about her or what her motive could be. What all do you know about her?” He needed to change the subject, because thinking about how Wynter being upset had also upset him brought more confusion to his mind than he cared to admit. 

“Well, before she tried to kill me, allegedly, she said that she was a university student studying linguistics. Lives alone, single, interested in the occult. She herself doesn’t have a lot of power. I could barley sense it when we hung out.” Wynter rambled about what she knew, which honestly wasn’t a lot. Jiyeon had said that she was adopted and after some digging realized that her birth parents were shamans. She had confided in Wynter that she wanted to cultivate whatever magic she did have.

Magic was something that needed to be cultivated, practiced, and maintained, or it was lost. Which is way training usually started early. But depending on how strong your bloodline was you could cultivate at any age, it would just take more work. 

Yoongi hummed and ran his hand through his hair. If what Wynter was saying was true than this girl shouldn’t have been able to place this curse. Though it could also just be beginners luck. “Okay. I’ll look into it. In the mean time you go about like nothing is wrong if you run into her. Were you able to find anything yesterday?”

Taking another swig of her tea. Wynter could feel her body starting to feel lighter, her mama’s tea working. “Um, no. All the books in the store are rudimentary at best. I’ll have to look through Joon’s personal collection in the back if I want to find any info of use.” 

Yoongi still didn’t like the shaman that Wynter worked for. Still hadn’t ruled him out for trying to kill her but if he expected her to trust him he’d need to extend that same courtesy to her judgment as well. “Okay. Just don’t tell him what’s going on.” 

“Yeah yeah yeah,” Wynter said as she downed the rest of  her tea and finished getting ready. Throwing on a bright yellow sundress since it was sunny and warm outside. The yellow popped against her skin making the brown deeper and richer like velvet. The low cut neckline made her boobs look great and gave the allusion that they were probably bigger than they actually were. The hem falling a little below her knee. Her mama always told her that if she didn’t feel good, at least look good. It’ll trick you into thinking that you’re fine. Now was that good advice. Probably not but it worked for Wynter. 

When she walked out of the bathroom Yoongi felt that pull in is chest again. She looked absolutely delectable. He felt his mouth water as he watched her put her bag together and throw her sandals on. Her curls hung in loose coils around her head, trailing down until about mid back. “Let me walk you to work.” Yoongi languidly got off the couch. For some reason he did not want to be out of her presence just yet. 

“You don’t need too.” She shook her head and walked out the door, with Yoongi trailing after her. “Don’t you have to go and spy on Jiyeon?”  Wynter playfully whispered as she made her way out of the apartment building. 

She was right. He should get started on figuring out what Jiyeon was up to but he also wanted to hold on to what little time he had left with Wynter this morning. No, that’s not why he was following her. He was just making sure that his “investment” made it to work in one piece. He needed to keep that distinction straight in his head. He would check back in with her later that day. Probably grab another coffee at the cafe across from the store. To make sure that she doesn’t get herself killed. 

Wynter walked stealing little glances at the pale demon who was clearly having some intense internal monologue. While his face remained pretty passive, he had a small twitch in his right eye that was giving him away. She figured he didn’t even realized he had the tell. “I’ll try to be back around lunch. Try not to die.” That was all he said before he disappeared into the ether. 

The rest of her walk went by without incident and when she made her way into the shop there were a few patrons milling about. Namjoon was over by one of the bookcases restocking the shelves. Wynter was gonna leave him to his own devices until she saw the look of clear confusion on his face. She placed her tote in the little space under the counter. “You look like you’re solving the world toughest problem over here.” She walked around some of the smaller shelves over to him. 

“I feel like I am. Is there a reason-” Namjoon turned around and let his sentence trail off. His mouth hung slightly open as Wynter tried to watch him reboot his brain. 

“Is there a reason why what?” Wynter suppressed her laugh as Namjoon clicked his mouth shut and cleared his throat. Pushing up his glasses he turned around and grabbed the tablet with the spreadsheet of the shops stock. 

“Why are these not in alphabetical order. It’s impossible to figure out where any of these books go.” 

“Well, Boss Man Namjoon, you said and I quote ‘No one knows who any of these authors  are they just know what they’re looking for’” Wynter dropped her voice and did her best impression of Namjoon. He stared at her owlishly from behind his glasses. 

“First off, I do not sound like that.” He pouted while Wynter laughed at him. “Second off, how do you even know where to place things.”

Still laughing Wynter just grabbed the book from Namjoon's hands and began shelving. “Just go back to your hideout and make potions. Leave the front of the house to me.” Wynter began shelving the books that he had placed on the cart easily. Her slender hands making quick work of the clearly offensive books categorized by topic. With her back facing him, Wynter missed the fondness and longing the filled Namjoon’s eyes at her referring to the shop so familiarly. 

Her yellow dress swished around her as she went about helping costumers and cleaning. Wynter had never been more thankful to her mama then at this moment cause she felt nothing like she did when she woke up. Full of too much energy for how slow today seemed to be. While that meant she had enough downtime to go pursue the shelfs in Namjoon’s backroom. She was still trying to find a viable way get back there without drawing suspicion. 

The door bell chimed as she was on the ladder stocking the top shelves. “Noona!” Taehynug’s baritone voice called out over the low hum of the desk fan Wynter had on. He bounded over to her his chocolate hair flopping around him. “Hyung, said that you weren’t feeling well! You shouldn’t be up that high.”

He stared up at her with his puppy eyes, big and round in concern. Scoffing, Wynter continued to work. “You worry to much, Tae. I’m fine. Just hot.” The day had gotten increasingly hotter as it progressed, the large storm from the past two days making Seoul feel like a sauna. She wiped some sweat from her brow, suddenly regrating wearing her hair down. The curls clinging to the sweat slick skin on her back. 

“I worry the perfect amount. Jin hyung is the one the worried too much.” Wynter hummed in agreement as she made her way down the ladder. Tae held out his arm for her to grab onto as she took the last few steps. “He’s been making you his famous get well soup all morning. Been fussing over it not being right.”

Wynter wasn’t surprised that Jin was making her something to eat. The oldest of the Kim’s was a master healer, much like her mama. Jin’s mode of choice was food that contained potent healing properties. He had really perfected the art, even opening up his own restaurant down the street. Namjoon excelled in many things but particularly spell work. He could generate a spell out of nothing, always pushing the boundaries of what is and what could be. Did it help that he was a magical prodigy who picked up on most things quickly? Probably. Taehyung, was a seerer, able to have prophetic visions. According to him some events and futures were set but most were in flux. He helped out a both of his older brothers places when he wasn’t painting murals or commission pieces. 

She considered herself lucky to have found and been taken in by such a loving family. They treated her as one of there own. “Are you actually helping today or are you going to keep distracting me?” Wynter smirked as she walked over to plop in front of the fan, grabbing a wayward flyer to fan herself more. 

I would never distract you, noona,” Tae feigned innocence as he came and pulled himself onto the counter. 

“You’re brother doesn’t pay me to sit around and talk to you all day.” Tae furrowed his brows and looked around the empty shop. 

“I can see you’re so busy today.” Laughing Wynter hit Tae in the arm with the flyer He clutched his shoulder pretending as if she had given him some grave wound. “Besides, Joon hyung would pay you for just -” 

“Tae!” Namjoon stalked out of the backroom and up to his younger brother. “Stop harassing, Wynter.” Tae held his hands up in surrender as Namjoon’s ear began turning red. “I’m glad it’s slowed down so I could talk to you about why Taehyung is here.”

Wynter turned slightly to give Namjoon her full attention. Noticing that he had taken off his sweater and was only donning a thin white button up. “I didn’t want to worry you with it but a few days ago someone summoned a powerful demon.” Wynter hoped the deep breathe she took came off as anxiety about the big bad demon and not as anxiety about getting caught that it was her. “It’s nothing we can’t handle but we’re having a hard time tracking him. He seems to be highly guarded this time, but Tae has been able to track him to the area.” Tracking demons, was one of Taehyung's specialties, as he was able to catch glimpses of after images in time. 

“I’m telling you this in case you come across him. I don’t want you to be unprepared and defenseless.” Wynter took in Namjoon’s demeanor and could see that he was really worried about this. She couldn’t tell him that said demon was living in her apartment and that he was “highly guarded” because of her protection wards. “I made you these.” He handed her some bottles filled with a thick green looking liquid. “It won’t do a lot but it’ll give you enough time to get to safety.” 

Nodding, Wynter placed the small bottles in the pockets of her dress. It would be good to have them for later use. She still needed to find a way out of this contract after all was said and done with the Jiyeon situation. “Do you know who the demon is by any chance?” She tried to keep her voice as even as possible. 

“Yeah,” Tae answered. “He’s name is Min Yoongi. He’s a nasty demon too.”

“Oh,” Wynter responded, swallowing the lump in her throat.

“Oh yeah. He was this tyrant king who was so powerful that it took our clan teaming up with three others to defeat him.” Wynter felt herself shiver at the thought. It took four powerful shaman clans to defeat him. It somehow didn’t surprise Wynter that he was a king, since he looked like he’d never heard the word no a day in his life. “He’s bloodthirsty, cruel, and a different level of evil altogether, so we’ll have to take out whoever summoned him too so they can’t do it again.” 

Wynter knew that the brothers came from a long line of shamans. The knowledge from every generation was passed down to the next. Passing their memories and experiences down to the next set in order to keep the knowledge that they gained as pure as possible. Namjoon had explained it once. He had said that it was like looking through water. He could see everything his ancestors had been through, their love, their losses. It was a unique from of ancestor worship that the Kim clan had perfected. So if they had fought Yoongi before it meant that he was more powerful than Wynter gave him credit for. The Kim clan really only ever got involved with demons that threated the balance of good and evil in the world. 

They were going to kill her. Literally and figuratively, when they found out.  She was fucked either way. “But,” Namjoon cut Tae of before he could continue seemingly taking her spariling for fear. “We have it under control. With him only being in our realm for a short time he shouldn’t be at his full strength yet. So, please don’t worry too much about it. You’re too pretty for that,” he said softly as he moved a piece of her wayward hair out of her face. 

“Yeah. I’m totally not worrying.” She said tersely as she fanned herself harder. 

Yoongi had been trying to locate Jiyeon all day with no luck. He had tried the university where Wynter said she went and thought he caught a whiff of her essence but lost it. He knew what it he was looking for because all magic had a signature of whoever did it, no matter how rudimentary. What was irritating him was it was like as soon as he picked up on it and got close,  the trail would slip through his fingers like smoke. 

It felt as though he would make it to a place moments after she had left. If what Wynter said about Jiyeon’s power level was true then she should’ve been easy to track and locate. He’s found more powerful folks with less effort. Yoongi had been hopping across Seoul all day and was beginning to feel irate. He stood in a park next the the Han river. Watching as it meandered by slowly. It hadn’t really changed all that much from when he was ruler. A little ruddy, but that was it. 

The breeze ruffled Yoongi’s black hair causing him to run his hand through it to tame the flyaways once again. He needed to think. If he couldn’t find Jiyeon then that meant that someone or something was protecting her. Another demon or entity more powerful than him, which was a small but scary list. Something about the whole thing felt off because even if that was the case why attack Wynter. He needed to figure out where and when this death curse came from so he could narrow down who all would be involved. 

Yoongi inhaled at Han park and exhaled in front of an abandon monastery. The location was nestled deep within the Baekdu-daegan mountains in North Korea. The mountain range was known to pool massive amounts of spiritual power. There were many Buddist temples and monasteries along the range but Yoongi had discovered this one a few decade after becoming a demon. 

As far as he knew he was the only one that knew about it and he wanted to keep it that way. Yoongi was sure that Jungsoo had his underlings looking for him. He honestly didn’t need the headache. The stone steps were eroded and beginning to crumple as he made his way up the large staircase. It was a long walk but not too difficult, he couldn’t just apparate into the place itself as the Buddist monks had done an excellent job of putting up a barrier that lasted long after they had died. 

The wooded door opened with a loud creak as he slipped inside the long abandon halls. He made quick work of making his way to the library and going through the ancient scrolls. The only sound filling the space was the rustling of parchment and the wind coming in through the cracks. He was looking for any information that fit the bill for this death curse. 

Yoongi had seen his fair shares of death curse, and delt them out. They ranged in effects but were pretty fast moving. Draining the victim of their life essence through fear or brute force. From causing the victims to go mad and kill themselves, to creating vivid hallucinations of their worst nightmares, to causing a physical malice that ended in a horrible and painful death. Either was it was a shitty way to go. He had never come across or even seen the one that Wynter had. 

At the end of the day with folks who possessed magic a death curse would kill them, as well as destroy whatever magic they had. Tossing it into the void to be dispersed and reconfigured into later generations. It was complicated and many beings, including demons had me trying for millenniums to beat the system with deadly results. But someone had figured it out. The curse that Wynter had was not just killing her but filling her up. Pushing her soul out until whatever could inhabit her vessel. Keeping her magic in tact. 

Yoongi had to give it to whoever created the curse, it was innovative and good. Definitely not the work of a beginning practicineer. He doesn’t know how long he had been staring at the scrolls. He wasn’t really getting anywhere just that it had to be a combination of two separate curses,  but which combination was the problem. The ancient script on the scroll he was reading was beginning to run together. He was about to chuck it into the ever growing pile of useless shit that was behind him, until her saw something that made him pause. 

While rare it is possible for demons who were once humans to develop latent soul bonds that should have been formed in their lifetime. 

Yoongi readjusted himself at the stone table so that he could study the writing better. 

These bonds can be anything from parent to child, eternal enemies, eternal friends, but the most common form we see this happen with are soulmates. Humans who became demons renounce these soul bonds in order to tap into demonic power which is void of these bonds. Though if a bond is strong enough it can be reformed when the two are in proximity to each other. These bonds will feel distinct from contractual bonds that demons make with humans. 

Soulmates. Yoongi fell back in the chair in disbelief. He had made his fair share of bonds in his lifetime as a demon. They all usually felt the same. Soft and brittle forged from the fleeting expectations that comes with the contract. Always sat in his stomach for some strange reason. But the bond her had with Wynter was solid. It filled him with warmth and hope, and it was bright. If he really concentrated he could see the little golden string that bounded them together in the ether as it came out of his heart. 

 Yoongi didn’t have a soul so it shouldn’t even be possible, but still. He rubbed the offending part of his chest, willing the connection to tamper down. “Is there a reason you’re here in this dump?” The sound of Hosek echoed through this temple. He was walking through the door and towards Yoongi. His bright red hair and equally as colorful outfit standing out against the dark room. 

Rubbing his eyes, Yoongi sat back up in his seat. “Trying to get some piece a quiet clearly. How did you even find me?” Yoongi knew those wards were tough so he was honestly a bit concerned the Hobi had found him so quickly. 

Sitting on the bench across from him Hobi simply shrugged his shoulders and smirked. “I’m always gonna find you, bro. You’re stuck with me for the rest of your grumpy eternal life.” Yoongi just rolled his eyes. Hobi had been his head general, as well as his closest friend, when Yoongi was king. He had followed behind Yoongi without questions becoming  a demon, along with two other men of his trusted inner circle. 

“I wanted to give you a report on what’s been happening. I’ve been able to round almost a legion of demons to fight. Jungkook almost half a legion. Jimin is having some problems with Shindong in the south but for the most part he’s holding his own.” Hobi waited for Yoongi to respond but when all the former king did was stare at the table he continued.

“ We have almost ten thousands demons backing us. We’ve been trying to keep things as quiet as possible for planning but Jungsoo has his bitches attacking us from every direction. He’s sent Eunhyuk and Heechul to search for you. What are your orders?” 

Letting out a deep sigh Yoongi ran his hands through his hair. He didn’t want this. Any of this. In no way, shape, or form did he want to lead this rebellion. He truly just wanted to get out from under Jungsoo, the current king in the underworld, thumb. Didn't realize that everyone shared that same thought. “I don’t know. Why don’t you lead it? You seem to have everything under control.”

“Because you’re my king and where you lead I follow.”

“Hobi.” Yoongi sighed. “I haven’t been your king for over a three centuries. I keep telling you that we’re equals at this point.” Hobi just leveled a stare at Yoongi. His lips pulled down into a frown. Yoongi knew that he was going to get nowhere with this conversation anytime soon. With resigned breathe Yoongi ran his hand down his face. “Look, continue what you’re doing. We’ll need to have as many demons as we can on our side if we even have a chance at winning this. Also, tell Jimin to lead Shindong to Solar’s realm. I believe that she has a bone to pick with Shindong anyway so she’ll be able to help.” 

Humming, Hobi nodded in agreement. “What are you doing anyway?” He looked at all the scrolls that were surrounding Yoongi. Pulling another scroll over the one he was reading about soul bonds, Yoongi cleared his throat. 

“I took a contract.” Hobi raised an eyebrow for Yoongi to continue. “Some foreigner accidentally summoned me to remove a death curse. I was going to just leave her but saw her magic and I’ve never seen it before. Figured it could be useful to fight Jungsoo.” What he said was true, for the most part. Yoongi went on to explain the death curse and why he was looking at all the scrolls.

“I’ll keep an ear out for who’s experimenting with curses.” Hobi said. Yoongi’s shoulders sagged in relief. Hobi was great at gathering intel which was what made him Yoongi’s best general. “What’s her power?”

“I’m unsure, honestly. It’s dark in nature, like it’s absorbing light and energy around it. I haven’t gotten to see her use it in person.” Yoongi mumbled. “From what I can tell she doesn’t seem to want to use it or is scared of it.” Yoongi thought back to the dinner that they had and how Wynter’s brain went silent at the mention of failing her test. He figured it had something to do with her power. 

“Okay. I’ll leave you to you’re precious alone time and research. Be on the look out for those two assholes.” Hobi waved has he apparated  out of the library leaving Yoongi in silence once again. 

Wynter closed the shop up while Namjoon and Tae worked in the backroom trying to come up with a game plan to find Yoongi. It was still wild to her that they knew who Yoongi was. She needed to boost up the wards at the apartment so she could keep him hidden for a bit longer. Wynter really hated having to lie and hide things for Namjoon. It felt like a betrayal, even though she did not mean to summon a demon as powerful as Yoongi. 

She still had to get to the books that Namjoon had tonight. She couldn’t afforded to lose another day of research because she was scared Namjoon would see through whatever lie she came up with. As Wynter cleaned she did her best to hype herself up to talk to Namjoon. The sun was just beginning to set casting a orange hue within the shop by the time she had finished. After making sure everything was straight she ventured back towards his workspace. Knocking twice on the wooden doorframe, Wynter heard Namjoon let out a low “mmm” signaling that he was listening as he worked on a potion with Tae. 

Tae gave her small smile as walked in. They looked exhausted from working on this. “Is there a way I can borrow one of your books, Joon?” He looked up from whatever he was concentrating on to look at her. She swayed on the balls of her feet, hands clasped behind her back as she waited for his answer. 

“Yeah,” he says curiously. “Are you looking for books that will be helpful for controlling your power?”

“No.” Wynter tone was clipped as she forced a smile on her face. “Um, no. I don’t think I’m quite ready to deal with that yet.” Both Namjoon and Tae’s face morphed into ones of pity. It made Wynter’s skin crawl know that they pitied  her and her fear of her power, but if they knew what it could do they’d be scared of it too. “It actually has to do with that dream I had a few days ago. It’s just stayed with me you know.” She tried to sound as non chalant as she browsed through one of Namjoons many shelves. 

“Dream?” Tae’s interest was piqued. He was great at dream interpretation.

“Yeah,” Namjoon answered. “She mentioned it two days ago.” Wynter could see the wheels in Namjoon’s head turning. Making connections. “What was your dream about again?” 

He sat down the vial that was in his hand on the table, giving her his full attention. She started out slowly trying to piece together the right words to not alert Namjoon or Tae. “In it I was in a really dark room lying on the floor and there was a figure standing over me. It became really hard to breathe like my lungs were collapsing in on themselves, honestly it felt as though my whole body was being crushed and pulled apart at the same time.” 

Now that Wynter was recounting it she felt as though her body was reliving the trauma. “It was so hot, it felt like my blood was boiling out of me. I could even feel blood coming out of my mouth and ears and eyes. It –” Wynter felt her throat begin to close as the room begin to close in on her, fading to black along the edges of her vision. She didn’t even notice that Namjoon had stopped working all together and was standing in front of her, trying to get her to refocus, or Tae frantically searching for something on the shelves of potions. 

She didn’t even notice that blood had began to drip from her eyes and roll down her cheeks. “Hey hey hey,” Namjoon spoke softly. “Wynter can you hear me? Wynter I need you to look. Baby, I need you to focus on me.” She could barely hear him through the ringing in her ears. Wynter could see his eyes franticly searching hers as she tried to focus like he was asking her. 

Looking at his lips she could see that his was saying something but the ringing kept getting louder until suddenly it stopped, and Namjoon can into focus. The chocolate eyes searching hers, to make sure that she was with him. The fear that his gaze held scared her. “Namjoon, I don’t feel good.”

#bts x reader #bts smut #bts x black reader #yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #yoongi x black reader

[twojackals]

I have a beautiful picture of an art installation with the words "Remember Palestine" on it as my profile photo on Facebook. And I had someone remove me directly after adding the photo.

I think people are being shadow-banned on Facebook by the way, for talking about "the conflict" in terms that can be filtered, because I'm sure had the person seen any of my previous Facebook posts which all talked about Palestine, they would have removed me sooner.

This person's profile was plastered with Israel flags and articles about Israel since the most recent violence began, and to be clear I think that's great, Israel's been through a tragedy -- but ultimately if you're into talking about Israel as if it is the sole victim in the Israel-Palestinian dynamic and are willing to go about your day with blinders on, then I agree: we probably aren't friends.

Israel is a victim of Hamas (just like Palestine), and they have been dealt a heinous and painful set of cards; but they also have all the planes, weapons, warnings, defense measures, bomb shelters, food, clothing, water, fuel, medicine, housing, and international support.

Gaza and Palestine are also victims: of Hamas, war crimes, and other crimes against humanity. They also have absolutely nothing.

I will continue to talk only about Palestine because I don't need to talk about Israel: everyone else is already doing it. It doesn't mean I don't feel for their loss: the murder of 1300 people is a horrible tragedy. It just means I'm focusing on what's not being widely talked-about already in the Western media.

And what's not being talked about, looks a lot like this:

To be fair to Western media, they are starting to clue in. Only took them a week, but more and more people are starting to talk about Palestine and Gaza with concern in their voices instead of disdain.

Maybe it took 600 dead children (out of 1900 total dead, still hanging onto that 30%-kids ratio I see in their search for "military targets"...), a 24-hour notice to move 1.1 million bodies (impossible), the leveling-out of reactions from knee-jerk to long-thought-out (probable), or something else... but I'm seeing more people give the humanitarian side of Palestine, slowly, as time goes on.

But it's still not enough, because Palestine has been under everyone's heel for years. There is too much ground to cover and now very little time to cover it in... so if we can't be friends while I talk about Palestine, that's perfectly fine.

Because it's just not that important in comparison with what is happening out there.

#hamas #palestine #israel #free palestine #pray #pray for palestine #israel palestine conflict #israel hamas war #war crimes #genocide #palestinians

[whentheresmoonlight]

Sand Lines Ch2, Wednesday

Read on AO3

rating: teen

pairing: bakudeku

word count: 11.5k/40.6k

summary: It wasn’t a vacation. It was only convenient that Katsuki’d managed to trick Miruko into thinking it was.

Katsuki doesn’t need a break. Post-war life has been peaceful. Too peaceful. So under the guise of a vacation, Katsuki heads to the American southwest, the only place where he can do the thing he wants to do the most: blow stuff up. Big time. And it’s all going to according to plan for about five minutes, until Deku comes along. They’ve barely seen each other since graduation last year and Katsuki could, should blow him up for getting in his business yet again. Instead, they learn about post-war life in the way they’ve done everything: together.

first chapter - next chapter

master list

Alamogordo, New Mexico

“Hnngh.”

Katsuki grunted as consciousness walked up to him, slow and heavy and unpleasant. It felt like someone was sitting on his arms, two someones. Two power-up villains. Probably D-listers, like everyone else, but they must be somewhat decent to have pinned him.

He’d been pinned.

A gasp escaped Katsuki’s dry throat as his eyes shot open, and his body shot up. And then the pain came crashing down on him. His arms felt like deadweights, fat dumbbells taped to his wrists and dragging them down, straining the muscles as they did. That was enough for him to remember where he was, despite the fact that he couldn’t see anything.

The room had one red light shining from a television, and the red digits of an alarm clock proving that it was just after twelve am, but they did nothing to illuminate the room. And out the windows was pure darkness. 

“Kacchan?”

Izuku’s voice was quiet and crackly—definitely just roused from sleep.

“Shuddup,” Katsuki groaned, trying to remember if they’d brought in his water from the car or if there was water in the room. He was pretty sure they weren’t supposed to drink from the tap.

“I bough’ you a cheeseburguh,” Izuku mumbled, and even without seeing him, Katsuki could tell that his face was at least half pressed into his pillow from how garbled his speech was. He wondered how late Izuku had stayed up after Katsuki passed out.

“Don’t want it,” Katsuki grumbled as he rolled off the bed. He’d never managed to get under the covers, evidently, and they were still tucked military-style underneath him. There probably wasn’t a single wrinkle on the comforter. He remembered that there had been a filtering pitcher next to the coffee maker, and despite its proximity to the toilet, Katsuki was going to make use of it.

Katsuki crackled a couple explosions in his hand to provide enough light to find the pull for the lamp on his bedside table. Even just that action awakened a new aching in his hands, but it wasn’t so different from what he’d felt any time he had to use his quirk a lot. The pain wasn’t all that bad, but they were stiff as hell.

The lamp barely illuminated past his bed, but it did light up the wrapped burger resting on his bedside table, cold and paper stained translucent with grease.

“It’s just McDonald’s, but they have a special chile burger here,” Izuku claimed, sounding a bit more awake. “I had one and thought it was pretty spicy.”

“Fine,” Katsuki said as he shuffled over to the water. A drink and a meal wasn’t a bad idea, since he’d completely missed dinner. But despite his best efforts to rehydrate, all that sweating and the dry, dry air had left him parched.

It felt amazing on his throat. Even with the filter, the water still tasted different from home, but damn, it had rarely been more ambrosial. Katsuki poured a cup for Izuku and placed it on Izuku’s side table. Izuku was sitting half up, looking at Katsuki as he circled back over to the burger. He snatched it, his room key, and then a pair of shoes from his bag.

“Where’re you going?” Izuku asked.

“Gonna let you sleep,” Katsuki answered, toeing on his slides at the door before stepping back out into the desert.

And shit.

It was dark out in a way that it never was in Musutafu. In the city, any door you stepped out of had a wall just a few meters away. Oftentimes, that wall had some kind of illuminated sign, and it almost always had a streetlamp or two just in front of it. 

Well, there were streetlights here, though fewer. There were neon signs, but more spaced out, though perhaps a bit larger. But there was so. Much. Sky.

And it was dark. In Japan, the sky was murky, like miso soup in a black pot. Slightly brown with only a few specks otherwise. Back at UA, there had hardly been a decent square of sky through all the trees.

But here. The sky was as dark as unconsciousness. The stars, plentiful as dreams. And brighter than Katsuki had ever seen.

“Damn,” Katsuki said, perhaps a little irreverently as the greasy paper in his hands crinkled. 

The burger was small, and cold, but now that Katsuki was standing, slightly more awake, he grimaced at the rumbling of his stomach.

It would have been better fresh. And warm. But damn. The tingle on his tongue wasn’t anything to write the curry places home about, but it was sudden and it was decent. And even a wimpy little burger was delicious when you hadn’t eaten since breakfast in the airport.

“Wow, it’s beautiful.”

A door squeaked closed behind him, and Izuku appeared beside Katsuki on the balcony. The wind swept his bed head and brought a chill to Katsuki’s arms. The temperature had sunk with the sun. Now it was pleasant out, if even a little chilly.

No one was out. Every once in a while a car would pass by, but there wasn’t a person to be seen outside but for the two of them. Not so much as a hero patrolling. It seemed this wasn’t much of a walking town.

“Gonna wait till the afternoon to go back to the Missile Range?” Izuku asked.

Katsuki clenched his hands on the railing. They were still creaky, but another day of training wouldn’t damage them. They’d just continue to ache a bit.

“Midday, yeah.”

“Maybe we could go somewhere in the morning? Before it gets too hot?” Izuku suggested.

“Ain’t nowhere to go here.”

“No, there are definitely places to go,” Izuku insisted. “There were lots of places on Google Maps.”

“Places worth going to,” Katsuki corrected. He’d be happy to eat a bite at some of Izuku’s Google Maps pins—a place this boring was bound to have some tasty food. The people didn’t have anything better to do.

“Someplace we can walk,” Izuku added. “Maybe someplace with hiking. There are mountains, right? There’s gotta be hiking.”

That wouldn’t be horrible. It’d be a leg workout before his arm and quirk workout.

“Maybe,” Katsuki said. “Pretty sure this isn’t your vacation, though.”

“I didn’t think it was yours either.” Izuku’s grinning teeth glinted in the starlight.

“Shithead,” Katsuki grumbled, pushing Izuku’s head away as he turned back inside. “Go to sleep.”

*

Alamogordo, New Mexico

The rest of the night had been fitful. Katsuki and his body were both men of routine, and his circadian rhythm didn’t like the time change any more than his bones liked the thick springs poking up against the supposed pillow-top mattress he rested on. He turned over, springs squeaking, only for Izuku’s voice to cut through the morning.

“I figured out how to add us to the register!”

Katsuki’s face was pressed flat into the motel pillow that smelled of the same dust that made up the rest of this dry, dead world. The room had blackout curtains, but the damn things weren’t flat against the wall and Izuku had already turned on a lamp. He had to lift his neck to grumble out: “What?”

“To the roaming hero register,” Izuku chirped, coming over to Katsuki’s bed and sitting on it, presumably to show Katsuki his phone. “Obviously neither of us can teleport, but we’re both really fast, so if anything happens in town, we’ll get the alert, and maybe we’ll get to handle the case. Or, at the very least, we’ll get to meet the local heroes!”

“Great,” Katsuki mumbled, rolling over and knocking Izuku off the bed. 

“Oof—Kacchan!” Izuku groused as he got back on the bed, forcing the phone in Katsuki’s nose. “I signed you up too, you just have to download this app and then you’ll get the notifications.”

“Why do I need the app when you’re stuck to my hip like a barnacle?”

“Well, I guess that works too, but you know…”

Izuku trailed off as he got a notification on his phone. A text reading Miruko: How’s it going?

Katsuki would have thought it was nothing. An annoying text by an annoying person, were it not for how Izuku immediately turned the phone away, the tips of his ears going redder than they already were from sunburn.

“Deku,” Katsuki said. Just that. And Izuku crumbled like a D-list villain.

“I’m so sorry, Kacchan, Miruko didn’t send me here just to catch you in the lie. She wanted me to make sure that you actually did take some time off, and didn’t just work the whole time, so it’s been my mission to make sure that you properly vacation, at least a little bit. I know I shouldn’t have lied, please, Kacchan, I’m sorry.”

Katsuki blinked. Izuku sniffled.

Katsuki laughed.

Here Izuku was, practically on his knees begging forgiveness for something that wasn’t half as bad as what Katsuki had done in the past. Not a fraction. Not close to the worst either of them had done, really. 

“Kacchan?” Izuku asked, looking up at Katsuki with those wide, stupid eyes.

“Honestly, I’m the idiot for not guessing that shit,” Katsuki cackled. “Call my bluff? If Bugs Bunny wanted to do that, she woulda done it herself just to laugh in my face.”

“So…you’re not upset?”

“The White Rabbit should be the one upset,” Katsuki continued. “Aside from maybe my parents, you’ve always been my worst enabler. She’s late, she’s very, very late.”

“Okay, I’m glad you feel that way, because,” guiltily, Izuku held up the car keys, “I’ve stolen these. We’re not going to the Missile Range today.”

Now that was a different matter entirely.

“The fuck?” Katsuki finally got out of bed, leaping up and making a lunge for the keys. Izuku easily sidestepped him. 

“If you managed to get these from me, I’m not even sure you could hold them in your hands, Kacchan,” Izuku said, slipping them into his pocket. He’d already changed out of his pajamas and was wearing an oversized pair of cargo shorts where the deep pockets alone were probably a quarter of his height. “I’m happy to train with you, but just because this is a good opportunity doesn’t mean I’ll help you overuse your quirk.”

“You’re one to talk, hypocrite,” Katsuki snarked, lunging again for the pants. If Izuku thought putting them there meant they were safe, he had another thing coming. “My hands are fine.”

And they were. They were stiff and sore, but they were fine.

“I know it’s hypocritical, and that’s exactly why I’m the person who should be saying it,” Izuku said, sidestepping again. If he really thought Katsuki was a threat, he’d bind him with Blackwhip, but he wasn’t even doing that. Bastard.

“Okay, if you’re the big man in charge, then what’s your brilliant idea?” Katsuki asked.

“I want to take a day trip,” he offered, holding both hands up in the air, like a criminal claiming giving himself up for surrender.

“Where?” Katsuki punched into his suitcase, searching for a tank top to tear over his head.

“Up in the mountains,” Izuku said. “Not hiking, we drive up there. It’s cooler, not so much sun, there are shops and food. It’ll be a break from the desert for a minute.”

Katsuki narrowed his eyes. Not being in the desert for even a moment seemed appealing.

“Fine. But if it sucks, I’m blowing you off the mountain and that will be my training for the day.”

*

Route US-82, Otero County, New Mexico

It was like he’d blinked and been sent to Hokkaido.

Obviously he hadn’t been, because he was still in an oversized SUV with an animal head hood ornament, and damn Izuku was driving in the left seat. But being dropped onto this steep hill of conifer trees after having been in the desert not one moment ago was disorienting in its own way.

They were on a winding road up a mountain, one of the many they could see clearly from anywhere in the Tularosa Basin, but everything that wasn’t a house or a cow farm or the road itself was filled with pine trees. Dark, viridian evergreens that provided the first speck of natural color that wasn’t brown or the damn sky that Katsuki had seen since his arrival on this side of the world.

“It doesn’t feel any better on this side,” Izuku said, white-knuckling it as the road corkscrewed up the mountain

“I don’t care, if you skid off the road here, you’d better be ready to whip out One For All to save us, otherwise I’m gonna kick your ass.”

“I would, Kacchan.” Izuku declared. “But it won’t come to that.”

“I’m serious. I remember learning with you, and of all our bad memories, that one’s definitely up there.”

Since the legal driving age was eighteen, it had been a part of the UA curriculum in their third year. It was an important skill for heroes, especially any who would be sent abroad. And Izuku—and most of their classmates—had been a nightmare at it. Katsuki, of course, had gotten top marks. Well, second behind Glasses, who drove the exact speed limit and nothing else.

“I’m keeping my skills sharp,” Izuku promised, narrowing his eyes with fresh determination, flicking his eyes between his speed gauge, mirrors, and back at the road. It was the same look he got when he was getting ready to spar, or planning a villain takedown, or anytime Katsuki punted a challenge his way. If he wasn’t punting it right back, he was swallowing it down, determined to do his best with it. 

Katsuki looked away, that expression making his fingers tingle more than they already were. 

“You better be, or else I’m taking those keys back.”

Izuku was never the best at something the first time he did it—as a kid that had always surprised Katsuki, who often was the best at something the first time out. But in high school, it became rare that Izuku failed at anything. There was no way he’d ever steer this car off the road, especially with Katsuki in it with him.

“Oh no, there’s a tunnel ahead. Check and make sure there aren’t any turns, Kacchan. I don’t wanna lose signal,” Izuku said as he white-knuckled the steering wheel.

“Turn where?” Katsuki grumbled as he checked the map anyway. The highway was winding, alright, but it wasn’t turning. It was more or less one road all the way up. “No turns.”

After Katsuki steadied the phone back in its holder, he stretched out his fingers, popping the knuckles, hoping to feel some relief in between, but it didn’t come.

It was only a short tunnel. The signal on his phone did dip, but that could have been from the altitude as much as the dinky tunnel. The town they were going to was apparently a good two-and-a-half kilometers above sea level. Katsuki’s ears had already popped once.

“Ooh, it looks like there’s an artisanal shop ahead!” Izuku said, catching sight of a weathered, handmade sign off the side of the road. It had a mascot with a giant apple for a head. “We should turn off!”

“Well, you’re the one who’s basically kidnapped me, so I guess we have to.”

Even as Izuku looked out the windshield, the constant array of pine making his eyes that much greener, Katsuki could see them soften into sadness.

“Not your funniest joke, Kacchan.”

Izuku’s foot must have fallen off the gas pedal, because their speed suddenly began decreasing rapidly up the incline. The car might not have been in neutral, but Katsuki wasn’t convinced it wouldn’t just decide to start going the way gravity intended anyway.

“If you really don’t wanna do any of this, I’ll take you back to the hotel, even back to the Missile Range,” Izuku continued, his voice low. It always fell so deep when he was serious, bright and high as bells when he was excited. “I know I’m supposed to be making you vacation, but I won’t make you do anything. I wouldn’t assume that I could.”

“You can’t,” Katsuki emphasized, putting a hand on Izuku’s knee and pressing it hard, trying to get him to depress the pedal. “Just hit the gas and keep going, and we’ll go to the apple frenzy, okay?”

“Are you sure?”

Katsuki pressed down harder. “Don’t make me say it again.”

Izuku put his foot back on the gas and the car revved underneath them, engine working overtime to get back up to the modest speed they’d been going.

“Okay, Kacchan.”

Katsuki took his hand back and settled back in his seat, arm crossed. He mumbled, “Next time you’re driving, I get explicit veto so that you don’t go and get confused.”

It only took a few more minutes and one hell of a sudden turn off to reach the shop that resembled an oversized cabin more than anything. It was made of wood, like it had been built from the very land it stood on. Perhaps it had been, for all Katsuki knew.

“Ooh, apple cider, pie, fudge!” Izuku exclaimed, reading the signage aloud like Katsuki was blind. “I’ve never had fudge before!”

“Yeah, sugar that sticks to your teeth,” Katsuki said, kicking the car door closed. “Great.”

“C’mon, it’s worth a try!”

They hiked up wooden steps and a wooden wraparound deck to the wooden shop, and when Katsuki stepped in, he was immediately disoriented. The smell was sweet. Auntie Inko’s hot chocolate sweet, first bite of birthday cake sweet. But in a land that wanted for everything but space, the shop was packed tighter than the smallest corner conbini Katsuki had ever seen. There were barrels—yes, barrels—of tchotchkes, collectibles, and novelty items. Somehow the middle of nowhere had sprouted a tourist trap. And worse than a tiny conbini, this place was packed with tourists.

“Deku,” Katsuki hissed, but Izuku was already on the move, following the sweet smell as doggedly as he’d followed Katsuki to this dried-out county.

The food area was the most crowded, so Katsuki walked the other way, looping between the racks of socks illustrated with chiles and aliens, the keychains with all the hundred most popular American names. The closest to Katsuki was Katelyn. He passed them right by, trying not to brush anything off their given racks and shelves with his broad shoulders. He’d never be able to find where to put them back.

There was so much red, white, and blue in the shop that he almost missed it. But there, among the American flag bandanas and American flag sunglasses and American flag beer koozies was a series of hero figurines. Mostly Americans, he assumed, but amongst the assault of capitalistic patriotism was a single All Might. In a cowboy hat. It was a good twenty-five centimeters and well painted. The hair wasn’t overly defined and the iconic smile wasn’t overdrawn or creepy. It was the good stuff.

Hell.

Katsuki looked back at Izuku, who was holding up a number on both hands as he ordered at the front of the food line. The checkout for the tchotchkes was on the other side of the store.

Fucking hell.

Katsuki snatched up the All Might, the feeling of gripping him by his tiny hat-clad head somewhat rewarding as he remembered being thrown into a building by the guy back at UA. And if there was a jar of pickled chiles that he snatched up on the way to the register, well, who could blame him?

“Kacchan, I got the fudge! Ooh, did you get something too?”

“I got my business, and the receipt said that it’s none of yours,” Katsuki said, trying to force down the heat rushing to his ears. He distracted Izuku with a swipe towards his pocket, managing to fit his fist into the gaping cargo shorts opening and snag the car keys. “My turn to drive.”

Izuku must not have seen any use in fighting, because he didn’t even try for keys. Even though Blackwhip would have been easy, even in the crowded shop. Not that Katsuki would have made it easy for him, but still, any fight Izuku wanted to have, he had.

Katsuki questioned his decision as soon as he turned the key in the ignition. Just that little bit of grip and fine motor control set off a twinge in his hand that was definitely ignorable, but not exactly good news either. Before he was even backing out of the parking space, Izuku was opening his paper box of treasures, and soon the car took on the scent of the shop. It followed them just like the sand and the dust and everything else in this town.

When they were pulled back on the main road and the GPS was set back up, the caramel scent grew even stronger as a cube of brown suddenly appeared in front of Katsuki’s mouth.

“Eat, Kacchan!”

Katsuki recoiled, knocking his head against the headrest. “Hey, I’m not eating anything I don’t know!”

“It’s fudge!” Izuku repeated, as though that held hardly any of the relevant info. Ingredients, nutrition info, flavor for Pete’s sake. Though, even out the corners of his eyes, Katsuki could see it was chocolate. “C’mon, Kacchan, it’s vacation. The point is to try new things. You not brave enough to try strange American food?”

Katsuki gripped the wheel until his joints creaked. He was being played. Izuku wasn’t above it, and he’d used it enough on Katsuki for him to have caught on ages ago.

But damn if knowing the trap’s right in front of him was the same as avoiding the trap.

“Good luck using Air Force again when I bite your fingers off with it.”

“A risk I’m willing to take,” Izuku said as he held up the chocolate to Katsuki’s lips.

Izuku was nothing if not devilishly fast, so Katsuki didn't get more than a graze of his teeth against Izuku’s thumb and forefinger as they quickly retracted from his mouth. And then his teeth sunk into the thick, rich, sticky fudge.

“It’s horrible,” Katsuki said immediately. “Like an American movie in a mouthful.”

“Impossible to choke down with how sweet it is?” Izuku asked, popping his own piece in his mouth.

“Exactly.”

“Mm, it’s not very good,” Izuku agreed. “It needs pop rocks or chili flakes to be like the movies you like.”

“Or some TNT,” Katsuki said, doing his best to swallow. Honestly, some cayenne probably would make it better. Some matcha, coffee, charcoal, anything to make it a little less sweet. If Katsuki could get his hands on that kitchen, he could make it fan-fucking-tastic for anyone who had a more complex palate than an American child. “Gimme some water.”

Izuku grabbed Katsuki’s bottle—the cooler was still in the back, full as if they were going to train—and opened it for Katsuki before handing it over. Even just gripping the bottle didn’t feel great, so Katsuki kept the third knuckles of his fingers from wrapping completely around the body. When the sickly sweet taste was mostly washed from his mouth, he thrust the bottle back at Izuku and scraped his tongue against his teeth to clear the last of the flavor away.

“Kacchan, give me your hand.”

“Hah?”

Katsuki turned away from the road to catch Izuku looking at Katsuki firmly, one of his own hands outstretched. Izuku reaching out. He fell straight into the well-worn memory that image provided.

He stared at Izuku long enough that the car’s right tires hit the rumble strips on the side of the road, saving Katsuki from running off into the mountain’s cliff face as he fisted both hands on the wheel. But it didn’t matter, because Izuku reached further anyway, wrapping his index and middle fingers under Katsuki’s wrist.

“Loosen your grip,” Izuku instructed as he began pressing into the tendons, rubbing in a small circle.

“I’ll loosen the grip your neck has on your skull.”

“Kacchan,” Izuku said patiently. “Your hands are overworked. It’s obvious. I’m just trying to massage the tension out of the muscles a bit.”

Slowly, silently, Katsuki slipped his right hand off the wheel, resting on the console between the two of them. Izuku’s went with it, his thumb creeping up and pressing into the heel of Katsuki’s palm like he was inking his thumb print firmly for a crime.

It took more than a little control for Katsuki to keep his groan behind his teeth. It tasted torturously sweet with the hint of fudge still resting on the back of his tongue. The ache that worked under Izuku’s thumb was too strong for such a small muscle. 

As Izuku continued, Katsuki’s hand warmed up in his. No sweat, no threat of ignition of course, just the warmth that built between two bodies out of nothing. The skin-on-skin contact that saved lives in the cold, even with no other heat source. It ran a flush up Katsuki’s neck, steaming out the top of his ears. When he had to pull his hand away for a hairpin turn, Izuku let go, and the warmth went with him.

And the new cold followed Katsuki to the tip of the mountain. When they parked and Katsuki stepped out of the car, he shivered.

“It’s fifteen degrees,” Izuku said, tossing Katsuki a flannel from the back of the car.

Fifteen was nearly half what it had been in the valley, and though that wasn’t especially cold at all, the temperature difference was a shock. The cloud cover overhead was thick and dark, exerting its oppression over the town that had dared build up so close to it.

“What’s there to do here?” Katsuki asked as he eyeballed the wooden buildings forming a row of establishments. It looked like a strip mall that the second little pig might have built just before the big bad wolf blew it down. Or maybe just after.

“Shopping, I guess,” Izuku said, swinging on his own jacket. “There are supposedly a lot of artisans up here.”

Once UA had returned to something resembling normal after the fall of All For One, and the place was no longer locked down or being used as a shelter, Class A had been encouraged to go on outings. To return to teenagedom by going to the movies, out for lunch, to the mall. Unless a really good food place had been on the itinerary, Katsuki had skipped them all, and never once regretted it. 

His apartment had no art in it. He didn’t want any. There wasn’t any room in his suitcase for it, and he damn well wouldn’t be doubling the price of any art piece by having to pay for a second suitcase to lug it to his 1DR apartment.

“Um, those windchimes look nice?”

Katsuki followed Izuku’s gaze and he couldn’t have stopped the scoff from escaping his lips if Izuku had slapped his lips shut with One For All 100%. Trust Izuku to find the most garish thing and match it to his aesthetic. One of the log cabins claiming to be a shop had giant copper windchimes hanging out the front with huge panes of stained glass dressing them like costume jewelry.

“Your taste is as stupid as your inability to keep a damn secret,” Katsuki said. “If you wanna go back to the March Hare and tell her you vacationed the shit outta me, it’ll behoove you not to let me blow my brains out in a crafts shop.”

“Okay, noted,” Izuku said, looking around in a circle. “There’s supposed to be good barbeque here, but it’s too early for lunch…”

He completed a full circle and then began walking a couple steps forward, squinting at the shops labeled The Bear Print and Old Stump Mall. If they’d been dropped in the middle of a paddy field in the Japanese mountains, it would have felt less rural than this place.

“There’s, uh, hiking?” Izuku finally offered.

“Thank God,” Katsuki said, opening the car door again to grab a hat and his water bottle. “Let’s go.”

There were a number of paths offered around the town, and none of them were crawling with people, at least not yet. It didn’t seem as though people necessarily had to get out early to beat the heat in this town. So they chose one equally as pine-filled as the rest, and after only a few meters into the woods, they’d left the neighborhood behind entirely.

The air was crisp up there. Not quite as dry as down in the valley, and Katsuki wasn’t thirsting for water every second. But where it was cold and pleasant, it was also thin. The kind of thin that made your chest as heavy as it made your head light. But the plodding thump of his heart made him feel good, like he was working harder than he was. 

“I can almost imagine I’m back in Japan,” Izuku mused as he touched his hand to a tree. “It’s not so different here.”

“You didn’t have to come out here if you were just gonna get homesick,” Katsuki said.

“I’m not homesick,” Izuku protested. “And besides, I wanted to come.”

“Not just trying to score points with Bunnicula?”

“No,” Izuku replied, quick and sharp as a branch snapping underfoot. “No, I just…haven’t spent time with you in so long. And if I could also play a part in you having a good time while you were here, yeah, I wanted that too.”

There was no memory that stuck out in Katsuki’s mind as the moment that spending time with Izuku had changed from an annoyance to innocuous. Maybe even something to look forward to. Perhaps when a year of your time together is spent preparing for and battling in a war, it simply stops mattering. It cleans the slate.

“But I think I overestimated myself,” Izuku continued, looking at the rocks, at the canopy of needles above them. His eyes nowhere near Katsuki. “I don’t know what to do here. Or at home. What do you do with just…time?”

Katsuki said nothing. Began breathing a little harder out of his mouth as they continued forward, Izuku’s pace increasing with each step.

“I don’t shop. I don’t play video games. I don’t do sports or garden or fish. I’m a hero!” Izuku exclaimed, his voice an ax against the trees.

“And what do you do when you’re a hero and no one needs saving,” Katsuki finished for him.

“I volunteer,” Izuku replied, as though it had been an actual question. “I watch the news, I analyze other heroes. I follow up with the people I’ve saved, and I follow up with the villains too, but…none of that is here.”

They came to a clearing. A cliff’s edge where none of the trees below had grown tall enough to block the view. Yet there were still eyefulls of sky, all that blue from the valley replaced with thick clouds full of the water the mountain stole from the desert below. It was the side of a hill with endless hills beyond, dappled with endless trees on endless land. The desert was nowhere in sight.

“That’s where you’ve disappeared to all year?”

“I haven’t disappeared, have I?” Izuku asked, sparing Katsuki a glance. “Maybe I have. I’ve been trying so hard not to disappear.”

“Yeah, well, you did.”

Maybe Katsuki had disappeared a bit too. Eijirou was always nagging him about being more social, but that had been the case even when they’d all lived together. Besides, if there weren’t more jobs to do, there was always more training. Time in the gym and in sims and working other minutiae like reflexes, cognition, attention, memory. To be number one, he couldn’t let any of that slide.

But what did it even mean to be number one in a world that was safe? 

“I don’t know either,” Katsuki offered, voice falling off the cliff. “It’s like my arm is always wound back for a punch, but there’s nothing to hit.”

Izuku chuckled, the sound magnified in the open air. “Never thought I’d find something Kacchan doesn’t know.”

Nobody teaches you how to take a vacation. How to have time off. Maybe more than not wanting a vacation, Katsuki just didn’t know how to have one.

“Don’t get smug about it,” Katsuki retorted. “Not like you know either.”

“I’m gonna learn,” Izuku said, and suddenly, he was sitting down on the rock, legs dangling over the sheer edge. “Come. Kacchan, sit.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Katsuki said, walking to Izuku’s side but remaining on his feet, arms crossed.

“Does your hand feel a little better?”

Katsuki stretched both hands out, feeling a bit more creaking in his left than his right. He popped a couple light explosions with his right. Any louder and in this country, someone would think he had a gun. The explosions were easy, natural as ever. But they still stung between his knuckles, deep in the bones, even with the massage.

“Right’s my dominant. Might just be handling it better.”

“Kacchan.”

Izuku’s hand was out again. Katsuki didn’t even have to look at him to know.

“It’ll be easier to train tomorrow if you do.”

Reluctantly, Katsuki let his hand slip from his ribs and dangle by his side. He didn’t sit, didn’t even look down at Izuku, but the warmth that came when Izuku took his hand contrasted against the rest of his body and sent a shiver down his back. There was a panicked voice in the back of his head shouting this wasn’t what they did, this wasn’t what they did. But Katsuki stomped it down and focused on the physical sensations. His muscles loosening and coming back home to him.

“You said we were hiking,” Katsuki grumbled as Izuku grasped each finger one by one and pulled it firmly. His ring finger gave a delicious pop at the base joint and felt more open than it had since before the flight.

“We’re doing nothing for a minute,” Izuku said. A glance down showed his brows furrowed in concentration, as though it took most of his focus to remember.

“I didn’t agree to that.”

But he stayed anyway.

#anjum writes #bkdk #bakudeku #dkbk #dekubaku #bkdkbk #bakudekubaku #dkbkdk #dekubakudeku #ktdk #katsudeku

[pykanico]

Day 25 - Sick

Fic if you want to read every posted day : https://archiveofourown.org/works/51386731/chapters/129854215

The day really did start perfectly, Emmet was verrrry pleased to see that nothing was out of the ordinary for once.

No illusion accident.

No unruly passenger.

No lost kid in the Subway.

No technical problems with the train.

No argument between the depot agent.

That was maybe why some sort of force of the universe decided that it was too perfect and that something needed to be done, or maybe something had a grudge against him because of a past mistake that he don’t remember doing, In any case, Emmet felt it hitting him hard.

It started with an annoying feeling of being tired, something he could deal with, It wasn’t the first time he suddenly felt exhausted, That was the consequence of being behind an illusion for days without taking any rest, through it usually takes much longer, months even, before something like that happened, and it’s only been one week since the last time he let down of his illusion, this was the first sign something was wrong, but Emmet decide to stubbornly ignored it.

Then came a horrible headache nagging him in the back of his head, becoming worse and worse as the hours passed, He would have tried to rest before, but the pain started while he was on the multi-battle train with his brother, He didn’t want to worry his twin and, to his defense, he was overall fine if not for the pain and exhaustion, it was just a simple, bothersome inconvenient, that Emmet could deal with for now, even if Ingo seemed to be suspicious every time Emmet wanted to cover his ear at the loud noise around who made his headache worse.

What finally made Emmet realize that he couldn't continue the day like this as stubborn as he could get, was the sudden feeling of weakness he felt before his leg nearly gave up on him in the middle of the corridor. Lucky enough, he could stop himself by putting one of his hands on the wall before he totally stumbled on the ground, but he would have been an idiot if he had continued his day on this track when he knew he couldn't win, as much as he hated to admitted to himself that forcing like this would just cause more problem for him.

He knew his illusion was probably not in the best formed at the moment because of that, at best it was only his eyes who got affected by whatever he had, This part wasn’t a real problem, There was a lot of explanation he could use, In the worse scenario he probably looked like a fuzzy mess of white, something who look barely human, it would probably freak out a lot of people and he don’t think that any lie would get him out of this one, in all case, he knew that he needed to retreat himself in his and Ingo’s office immediately, so no one could be able to see him in this state.

Thankfully he wasn't that far from his destination, worrying himself inside the office, then flatly letting himself fall face first on the couch, not having the energy to do much, it was also the only way for him to hide his face.

What followed was mostly a blurred, Emmet could guess he had probably fallen asleep with how groggy his mind was when someone nudged him slightly from the couch, making him groan loudly as this rude awakening.

“Emmet, are you feeling alright?”

It took way too long for Emmet to realize that the person who woke him up and was actively talking to him was his twin, That was bad, He could recognize Ingo’s voice everywhere, but at that moment it just felt like the voice of his older twin was wrap in some sort of filter who make it terribly difficult to register, Emmet was in a worse state than what he was thinking.

Ingo seemed to wait for Emmet to answer, He didn’t realize that he was taking a long time to react because of his lack of energy, He finally started to mumble as loudly as he could without moving too much as his body felt strangely heavy.

“I feel like I am dying brother…”

His twin hummed in acknowledgment, Emmet didn’t have to look up to guess that his brother was moving to get one of his pokeball in his hand “Do you mind if I take your temperature or do you prefer Chandelure to do it?? Because I have the feeling that you must be sick”

Knowing that Ingo remembers how much he hates when someone tries to take his temperature never made him so happy than right now, Emmet had a really good reason for his refusal too, mostly because he was not sure that his illusion was solid enough. “Chandelure please...”

His older twin didn’t ask another question, seemingly accepting Emmet decision, as he slowly backed away before letting out of her pokeball Chandelure, although the habitual sound seemed to be louder than it was supposed to, or maybe it was just him?

“Chandelure could you take Emmet temperature, I am afraid that he might have caught a cold”

“Ingo, what do you mean Em caught a cold, He looks like usual to me” Emmet may be feeling weak, but he could recognize sarcasm anywhere, he would have complained about it if he wasn’t too tired for that...or if Ingo wasn’t here, with a weak sigh he forced himself to move slightly so Chandelure can take like as his temperature, she barely touch his forehead before backing away with a startling noise confirming Ingo's guess.

“Uh…. It seems that you really got yourself sick again Em? I didn’t see the difference at all!! suck to be you” She was laughing at his dismay loudly before continuing “Well, good news for you, your illusion is still solid, you just need to stay focused on not messing up”

He simply grumbled to answer her, knowing perfectly what she meant as she returned to Ingo’s side, Emmet could nearly see her smug look....

“Hmm...well I supposed that we have to go home early today, would you be able to get up Emmet”

“No”

“Understood, do you want my help to get to the apartment?”

“Yes”

Emmet must admit, he may have been more blunt to just avoid talking more than he needed too, As his older twin slowly got closer to help him up, Emmet tried his hardness to not break his Illusion for the time being, Chandelure staying close to the duo like she was supervising them…. To his amusement, Ingo stared at Emmet's face with a disbelieved look when he was able to see it.

“Did you really put your eyeliner before passing out on the couch?!”

“I did, and I do not regret it”

#pokemon #pokemon au #submas #novembmas #zoroark emmet au #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #my fic #subway boss ingo #subway boss emmet #Illusion of Replacement AU

[ahaura]

7?? 💓

7. Any media/fandom you will avoid at all costs?

personally speaking i make a point of avoiding n.eil g.aiman and anything related to him. i know there are legitimate criticisms against him which i cant remember atm (bad memory day </3) but my dislike for him goes back longer than people have made posts about it. it all started when i was reading this anthology of short horror fiction and i understand that the thing about anthologies is that due to the variety there are bound to be some authors and/or selections i won't like for whatever reason and that's just part of the process. HOWEVER. at that point i had never read one of his works before but i'd heard a lot about him. so i read the selection and it sucked. i don't remember what it was about but i do remember it was a challenge to slog through and i was grateful for when it was over. i was disappointed because even then he'd been hyped up and maybe this was just a bad selection of his work but in any case it did not make a good impression on me and i moved on. flash forward to at least a few years later and i'm reading a different anthology. "horror of the decade" ed. by ellen datlow, something i never finished which requires its own post but to sum up some of her selections DEFINITELY should not have been hailed "best of the decade." they shouldn't have been selected as good horror at all if in my opinion. but anyway g.aiman was on the bookjacket and i was like *sigh* okay well im not really looking forward to it but i guess i'll give it a shot especially since it was one of the shorter entries. and then i read it and it fucking sucked. it was ass. it was some stupid story about sailors lost at sea who resorted to cannibalism or something and i wanted to like it but i just couldn't get behind his writing. at that point, to me, it felt like he'd just been included so that his name could be slapped on the cover and they selected one of his works at random. it felt a lot like quality didn't matter for some of the selections as much as the name or maybe filling up space. or perhaps it's the editor's personal choice which is why i dislike datlow as an editor. and dont get me wrong there was a few REALLY, REALLY good selections in that volume but g.aiman's was NOT one of them. and it just felt like an utter waste of time and a joke because there was nothing impressive or noteworthy about his writing or storytelling ability and what always makes my dislike worse is when people's fanbases have to hype them up as a god-send or revolutionary. now i am aware that maybe these were just. bad selections and not representative of his full body of work and to that i say too bad i dont care. and i am also aware that there are probably fans of his i am mutuals with who love his work which is fine great good for them this is not directed @ them but it's irrelevant. because i think he sucks and he's overrated and exacerbates it all is that he's on tumblr as like the resident uwu celebrity author or whatever and it's like. you come onto the silly little blogging site where i reblog silly images with my friends and mutuals and make me not only hear about him but make me see his TAKES? his posts? JAIL! JAIL FOR 1000 YEARS! and in any case it doesn't really matter the block button is free and filtering tags exist but also if ONE more person recs his books to me i will explode. i dont want to read him i do not care i dont think he's more noteworthy or talented than anyone else on the scene (not that i am aware of the scene) i just do not care and do not want to hear about him. yeehaw <3

#inbox #this got long and complain-y but i had a lot to say fjakjdkjakdjakjs

[mylifeisactuallyamess]

Sami’s fic stash.

A/N: this was inspired by a film I watched on Netflix late one night so I’ll probably never finish it. But I also can’t delete it. I’m posting everything that is in the doc, chapter one is complete, chapter two is nearly complete and the rest is scenes I wrote in advance.

Warnings: this fic is not finished. I am just emptying a Google doc in one go with all I have written for this particular fic. Character death, feels, accident mentions, injuries, funeral and all that comes with it. There is happiness at the beginning and it swiftly goes downhill 🥹

Pairing: Hvitserk x F!Reader

Word Count: 8.5k+

Tagging: @adrille88 @istorkyou

Chapter 1

It was spring. Not too hot and not too cold but the sea breeze still held a chill that had you shiver inside your fleece lined raincoat. You wound the film in your camera taking comfort in the click and whirs of the mechanism before lifting it up to snap another shot.

A lone seagull glided over the choppy waves, feet tucked in close to the soft white body, black wings spread widely and you wondered what it would be like to fly. You adjusted the lens, bringing the bird into focus and clicked the shutter at the perfect moment, hoping these shots were coming out nicely but you wouldn’t know until you got back home.

Winding the film once more you looked up at the clouds that roiled above you. They were a dark grey but the rising sun spilled a fine dusting of yellow ochre light across their heavy bases. You wished you had brought your digital camera to perfectly capture the colours that spread right to the horizon. The sky and the sea met miles away, one tossing and turning and the other soft but holding the promise of misery. Dark bands of rain filtered across your eye line and you debated heading home. The weather could turn on a pin head here, which you’d found out by mistake.

You’d lived in this place for the last six months but already people knew you around the little seaside town. Being a city girl for most of your life you hadn’t been very clued up on certain details but now you were much wiser.

You had better shoes and more appropriate outdoor clothing. The cafe owner, Elena had taken pity on you one rainy day and it sparked a lovely friendship which in turn connected you to her friend Ashe who was the local florist.

Making your way up the hidden path that led you out of the cove and back up the cliff, your mind was already in Elena’s cafe with a hot cup of coffee and a nice slab of cake.

“Hey, doll.” She beamed at you with her characteristic friendly smile. “How’s it looking out there?”

“Like it’s going to rain.”

“What’s new,” she said with a shrug. “Usual?” Nodding you put your camera down and shed your coat to hang it over the chair where you usually sat. Lifting yourself onto the tall stall you peered out into the high street, watching as people set up their shops ready for the day. Tourist season was going to hit soon and you could tell from the influx of new stock that were gracing the window displays.

She placed the coffee and cake before you, a friendly hand resting on your shoulder for a second. She moved back to the main counter needlessly wiping it. “Any plans for today?”

“I should swing by the booth and make sure I don’t need to order anything else before I open it.”

“It’s such a good idea what you’re doing,” she commented. “The tourists are gonna love it.”

“I hope so, my savings are drying up.” Sipping your coffee you watched a man walk down the street. You hadn’t seen him before but you couldn’t really see his face because he was looking down at his feet. He ran a wide hand through his dirty blonde hair, his other firmly shoved in his light coloured trench coat pocket.

“Who’s that?” You asked with a frown. Elena sidled up beside you, peering out of the window she gave a nonchalant shrug.

“No idea. Cute though.”

“There are not enough single men in this place,” you muttered.

“Remind me why you moved here again?” She teased.

“For the legendary coffee and cake!” She rolled her eyes, heading back to the counter when the door opened.

You sat there for an hour, toying with the strap of your camera, snatching conversation with Elena between customers. The grey clouds filled the sky but the rain hadn’t hit yet so you decided now would be a good time to go home. Waving goodbye to Elena and heading out onto the high street.

The street wasn’t long, shops encroached on the small road barely leaving any room for a pavement. Sand lined the groove between the tarmac and the concrete, a sight you wouldn’t see in London unless a sand bag had given up. The wind ripped down the road, the bright coloured wares outside Richard's touristy gift shop all tinkled with warning notes and you debated if you were going to make it home before the heavens opened.

Hitching the camera strap further up your shoulder you stopped to look at the movie list near the door of the cinema. Fletcher didn’t usually get many new movies this time of year but you saw one you hadn’t seen before, a Danish film called ‘Skyggen I Mit Øje’. Glancing up at the sky you made the choice to ride out the weather watching a film instead and you pushed the front door open.

“Fletch?” The plush carpeted foyer looked deserted. You glanced around at the old classic style cinema frowning slightly. “Fletcher?” The sound of your name came from behind the counter before he popped up and cast a beaming smile your way. He was an older man, with a gentle expression and eye wrinkles that creased whenever he saw you.

“What can I do for our resident photographer?”

“Are you showing that new film that’s on the board? The Danish one?” You questioned, pointing over your shoulder.

“Yeah I set it up for a test run. I was going to ring you about it. Wanna watch it for me?”

“Yes! I had nothing else planned today aside from developing these,” you told him, holding up your camera.

“Someone else asked me about the picture you did for me,” he said pointing to the black and white photo you’d taken of the building. “You should do an event and showcase your photos.” You smiled tightly, nodding with a slight hum as you tried not to balk at the idea. Putting your stuff out there filled you with dread and in all honesty, the picture for Fletcher was supposed to be in his house.

“Maybe,” you finally pushed out as he opened the screen door for you.

“I’ll give you a couple of minutes to get settled and then start the film.”

“Thanks, Fletch.” You walked into the empty screen, hearing him greet someone else just before the heavy door swung shut. You plonked yourself in your favourite seat, right in the middle of the room so you had the best view of the screen. While the lights were still on, you quickly snapped a couple of aesthetic shots. Capturing the rows of empty seats, the fold of the red curtains that covered the screen and the fixtures of the old fashioned lights that lined the pillars along the edges.

The door opened and you turned expecting to see Fletcher only to meet the gaze of a stranger. He had a cream trench coat draped over one arm, he was wearing jeans and a grey top with a worn Imagine Dragons band logo splashed across the front. His gaze finally broke away from yours to take in the room, running a hand through his longish dirty blonde hair. You turned back to the front, your eyes involuntarily attracted to the movement of him sitting himself down two rows in front of you. Usually you were here on your own but it was fine, Fletcher needed all the audience he could get. The lights dimmed and you settled down in the comfortable seat ready to enjoy the film.

As soon as the film started you had an issue. There were no subtitles. Sitting up you turned to see if you could see Fletcher and get him to switch them on…if it worked like that, but he wasn’t anywhere to be seen.

“Damn…” it came out a lot louder than you’d anticipated and the stranger glanced round at you. “Sorry!” You whispered, sinking further into your seat fairly sure he’d smirked at you. You watched the film for a few more minutes trying to make sense of it but you couldn’t follow the language at all. The stranger got up with a sigh, grabbing his coat and you felt a pang in your chest that Fletcher had lost a customer.

So it surprised you when he dropped into the seat beside you. At first you tried to ignore him but he leaned in close resulting in you inhaling his scent and a heat crept into your face. You didn’t remember men smelling this good.

“Do you know what they’re saying?” He asked quietly, his heavily accented soft tones breathing into the side of your neck and you swallowed nervously.

“No. I could see if Fletcher has the option for subtitles…”

“No need,” he whispered. “Let me translate.”

“Translate? You can understand Danish?” He scoffed slightly, swiping a thumb along his lips before glancing over at you again.

“I hope so. I am Danish.” For a second you contemplated getting up and leaving to find Fletcher but then you didn’t want to seem rude, so you sat back your shoulder bumping his as he leaned in close again.

You thought it would be annoying to have someone talking all the way through the film but his subtle whispering was not unwanted and you found yourself leaning into him. You did wish you’d done your research on this film, the events that happened tugged so deeply on your heartstrings, the tears streaming down your face.

You lifted your hand and pointed at the screen as the credits started to roll. Words were stuck in your throat and all you could do was gesture weakly for a moment.

“It—can’t end like that!” Your chest heaved and you felt a reassuring squeeze on your other hand. Looking down you saw your fingers entwined with his and you quickly snatched your hand back. “H-how long was I doing that for?” You watched as he circled his wrist, rubbing his hand and flexing his fingers.

“I lost feeling about an hour ago.”

“I’m so sorry. T-thanks for, you know.” Grabbing your camera and jacket you stood. He matched your motion, a breath hitching in the quiet room as you shoved past him. Embarrassment crowded your thoughts and all you could think about was getting out. Thankfully Fletcher was nowhere to be seen as you raced through the foyer only to spill out onto the wet pavement, blinking against the blazing sunshine that hadn’t been there when you’d stepped inside.

A faint “oof” fell from you as you collided with something solid, only for them to grab and stop you from falling over.

“You ok?” A deep voice asked.

“Oh yeah! Geez, I’m sorry!” You gasped, still trying to adjust to the brightness.

“Not everyday a pretty girl throws herself at me,” he joked. A nervous laugh erupted from your chest, looking up into the clear blue eyes that looked down at you.

“Ubbe!” Turning sharply you saw the guy from the cinema and you felt like you were trapped between a rock and hard place.

“I should be going.”

“Wait, wait!” You paused, your body seeming to have a mind of its own at the sound of his insistent cry. He jogged right up to you, running a hand through his hair while he clearly tried to think of something to say. “I’m Hvitserk,” he blurted out. His hand shot forward aggressively and you almost stepped back out of surprise.

“Oh. Hi,” you told him your name, putting your hand in his and trying not to notice the way he dwarfed it. Or how warm his skin felt, or how nice it was to have your hand held, even in a handshake. “Thank you again…”

“Yeah, no problem,” he spoke softly. “I enjoyed whispering in your ear for a couple of hours.” A cocky grin appeared on his face, one that was contagious and you had to grin back. Out in the natural light of the day you could see his eyes were the most glorious colour. Green with gold flecks, blending into a hazel that you wanted to get lost in. Your hand was still in his grip, the pair of you just staring at each other, drinking each other’s features in case you never saw one another again. “You’re a photographer?” He inquired after clearing his throat. The hand you finally released moved as though he was going to pluck your camera strap and then thought better of it.

“Oh! Yeah, I mean I try.”

“My brother is a photographer.”

“Is he any good?” As the question left your mouth you were screaming curses into the void of your mind but Hvitserk’s expression lit up with a mischievous light.

“He seems to think so.” You nodded, not sure how to respond.

“I should…” Taking a step back he got the hint that you wanted to leave, even though you wanted to stay and chat.

“I hope I see you around.”

“That would be nice.” His eyes roamed suggestively down to your lips, his own bottom lip dragged into his mouth and you swear your heart fluttered at the sight. “Oh, nice top by the way.” Hvitserk spread his hands which were now buried in his pockets, opening his coat so you could see the top better. “I really should go.” You said it more for your own benefit than his but he stepped back as well, breaking the heady spell that had engulfed you both for a moment.

The other guy, Ubbe, had been watching the whole interaction with a knowing look on his face, his blue eyes darting between you both.

“Bye.” You didn’t know what else to say. It was like your brain had given up and was letting you fend for yourself. Subconsciously you checked you still had your camera, tapping the device against your leg before walking away.

“Smooth, brother. It was like watching a very slow car crash.”

“Shut up!” Hvitserk growled. Glancing over your shoulder you saw him wrap an arm around Ubbe’s neck, dragging him down into a choke hold.

You sighed lightly. He was definitely your type but he was clearly a tourist. Someone who was here for a holiday and nothing more, the last thing you needed to was to get attached to someone who was leaving within the week.

Chapter 2

The rest of the week slipped by in a blur of cloudy and rainy days. You spent your time editing photos in your little studio, ordering props and making sure you had all the stuff you needed before you opened. Friday dawned, the clouds breaking up against the grey-blue sky and you snapped the formations with your digital camera this time. You were dressed against the chill, feeling the sting in your cheeks but enjoying the biting caress this early in the morning.

You wandered up to Elena’s cafe, knowing she’d be there already. Sure enough she was almost elbow deep in the oven, thick oven mitts covering her hands as she shifted the trays of pastries around.

“Hey, doll!” She sounded as cheerful as ever. Locking the door behind you she asked if you wanted a coffee to which you nodded enthusiastically. “Get any good ones?”

“I did, the sky is particularly photogenic this morning.”

“Seen that guy again?” You wrinkled your nose. Too much of your thought processes this week had been on that guy. Hvitserk. But you hadn’t seen him again and you were fairly sure he’d gone back to wherever he came from.

“No. He’s probably gone home, knowing my luck he already has a girlfriend back home and was looking for a bit of a holiday thrill.”

“Where did you say he was from again?” You sighed, wishing she would drop the topic. Flicking through the pictures on your camera you refused to look up as you answered.

“He said he was Danish.”

“Huh….I met a Danish guy.” Cocking an eyebrow you thought it was just your luck, of course someone you found attractive would be drawn to one of your friends.

“Oh yeah? Was his name Hvitserk by any chance?” You muttered sullenly.

“No. Björn.”

“Well…” turning the camera you zoomed in on a particular picture. “I wish more would descend. I would not say no to a Viking.” Elena sat down opposite you, the sunny yellow cup in the middle of the table. Glancing up you tossed her a half smile. “You ok?”

“Yes. What are you doing tonight?” Shrugging you flicked over to the next photo.

“Night in, with some sparkling wine I believe. Maybe a long film and a cry, my usual Friday night shenanigans.”

“Come to the beach, in the cove. There’s going to be a bonfire and some people getting together. Bring your sparkling wine.”

“People? What people?” Now you looked up, fully focussed on what she was saying and she smiled smugly knowing she’d got your attention.

“I got talking to Björn, honestly babe you should see him! Tall, blonde, blue eyes I could drown in!” Her gaze grew misty and she expelled a breath that would have made a Victorian gentleman blush. “But I digress. He told me he’s here with his brothers, there are 5 of them. Five!”

“Do you think…?” She nodded.

“I think so! They’re staying up at the big Airbnb, you know the one we always wanted to stay in? He said they are here all summer.”

“Oh.” You reached for your coffee and she spread her hands in a confused gesture.

“Oh?? Is that all you have to say? What if he’s there? What if you fall madly in love this summer.” You snorted, spraying coffee up your nose and choking loudly. Elena passed you a napkin with a sigh, leaning back in her seat with her arms crossed as she watched you clean up.

“That’s not going to happen,” you finally replied.

“No. It won’t if you keep being bullheaded about feelings.”

“Listen, it’s not that I don’t want them, you know, feelings. It’s that I would rather they happen with someone here who’s nearby and we can build on it over time.” She scoffed loudly.

“That can still happen but maybe you need a fling before you let yourself fall into a deep relationship. A bit of fun didn’t do anyone any harm.”

“Tell that to my grandparents,” you muttered as she swept past to stop the timer on the oven. Sipping the rest of your coffee you watched the high street start to come alive but your thoughts drifted to a pair of earnest hazel eyes. Remembering whispered words curling in the shell of your ear, the sensation of his hand in yours…stupid! It was all stupid. Even if he was there he wouldn’t remember you anyway.

—

“We are closed,” you shouted from your little break room. “Don’t open for another week!” Exiting the room you stopped short to see a man standing there leaning heavily on a cane. He was looking around your half done studio with a disgruntled look on his face. His dark coloured hair was dragged back to show the shaved sides of his head, small braids started at his temples only to be caught up in the rest of the style.

“What is it?” He asked. Immediately you clocked his accent, maybe the Vikings had descended just like you wished.

“It’s a photo studio. I have props and things arriving so people can either have normal portraits or holiday portraits. I also photoshop a choice of backgrounds onto the picture if they like.”

“Huh.” He pointed to the blank wall by the door where you’d put a sofa so people could sit while they waited. “What’s going up there?”

“Nothing. Look, can I help you with something?”

“What camera do you use?”

“Why? Want to see what I have so you can rob me?” You snapped, crossing your arms but all he did was smirk, his icy blue eyes lighting up as though enjoyed the challenge.

“I am a photographer myself. I have my own cameras, I don’t need to steal someone else’s. Call it professional curiosity.”

“Well you can take your professional curiosity and cast it somewhere else. I am closed and I am waiting for deliveries. So if you don’t mind…” striding over to the door you held it open and glared directly at him. You saw his teeth when his lips drew back, his tongue rolling as though he was keeping his barbed thoughts to himself before he started limping out the studio. You shut the door behind him and locked it. You took a moment to pause, watching as he limped across the road only to meet with someone you recognised. It wasn’t Hvitserk but it was the other guy from outside the cinema, Ubbe. Your heart rate kicked up a notch and you took a deep breath to calm yourself. If he was here…and he’d been referred to as brother…so that could mean the guy in here was also a brother…and you’d just kicked him, rather rudely, out of your studio.

“Oh. Shit.”

—

“What are you worried about?” Ashe called from your kitchen. Elena was in the bathroom and you were making your way from the bedroom to accept the glass of wine Ashe was pouring.

“I kicked his possible brother out of my studio. Accused him of trying to steal from me. What if he went back to Hvitserk and told him I was some rude goblin and not worth his time?”

“What if they’re not even here together or related?” Countered Ashe. Glaring at her over your glass she nodded. “You’re right. It’s too much of a coincidence they must be brothers. You’re screwed.”

“What am I going to do?” You groaned.

“You’re putting too much thought into this already,” Elena added as she entered the kitchen. “You’re already putting obstacles in your own way and finding faults when there is nothing to pick at. Yet.”

“Drink up. I want to go frolic on a beach in spring, when it’s freezing.” Ashe downed her glass and motioned for you both to do the same so she could fill them all up once again. “Bottoms up, bitches.”

You all stumbled out into the frigid air, giggling amongst yourselves as all came up with wild scenarios about tonight. Each one more outlandish than the other.

You could hear the gathering on the beach before you saw it, carefully climbing down the steep path you saw quite a few people you didn’t know all highlighted by the massive bonfire that had been expertly built. The flames shot up into the air, heat seemed to collect in the cove but you still huddled together. Music played and some people were dancing, instantly though Elena pointed out a tall figure from the crowd.

“Björn!” She waved eagerly causing you and Ashe to snigger but she ignored you both as the tall blonde approached.

“You made it,” he stated needlessly.

“These are my friends,” she introduced Ashe and then you, stating that you may have had a run in with one of his brothers recently. Heat prickled under the skin of your cheeks but you kept your expression neutral, thinking of all the things you were going to say to her later when he spoke.

“You’re the photographer?”

“Y-yes,” you stuttered in surprise.

“Right. Ivar mentioned that. Wouldn’t tell us what you said to him though and he is still in a mood.”

“He barged his way into my studio so I told him to take his professional curiosity elsewhere.” Ashe nudged you not too subtly but you didn’t care, this wasn’t about Hvitserk and you were still pissed this, Ivar, spoke to you the way he did. Björn glowered at you for a second before his face broke into a wide smile, a booming laugh carried over the gathering and he clapped you forcefully on the shoulder.

“That’ll do it. Come on, I’ll show you where the food and drinks are.” There was a BBQ to the side and the guy you’d seen twice now, Ubbe was cooking. There were stacks of cool boxes all full of ice and cans or bottles that Björn told you to help yourselves.

“Are you going to ask about Hvitserk?” Elena whispered in your ear.

“They seem so friendly, just ask!” Ashe chimed in but you shook your head.

“If he’s here and he’s interested he’ll find me.”

“Well I am going off to catch myself a tall blonde man. Laters, losers.” Elena blew you both a sarcastic kiss and Ashe stuck her tongue out your friends retreating back.

“I’m getting food,” you grumbled.

“Get me a burger!” Taking a swig out of your bottle you walked back over to Ubbe who smiled warmly as you approached.

“The girl from the cinema.”

“That’s me!”

“You hungry?” He asked, flipping over some burgers making the coals hiss from the dripping juices.

“Two burgers please.”

“You eat as much as I do,” a voice said gleefully behind you. A voice you would recognise anywhere because it had been whispered in your ear for around two hours. Turning sharply you saw him highlighted by the fire, the cream coat standing out and a hysterical giggle bubbled up your throat.

“They’re not…I’m not going…I couldn’t possibly…” you heard Ubbe chortle beside you. Sucking in a breath you attempted to pull yourself together. “One is for Ashe,” you told him slightly more haughtily than you’d intended.

“Onions?” Ubbe asked, his eyes resting on his brother for a moment.

“On both, please.” This was utterly pathetic. You couldn’t concentrate, especially when Hvitserk moved round to stand next to Ubbe and was therefore in your line of sight.

“Here. Enjoy.”

—

Summer was never your favourite time of year and you hadn’t accounted for how hot your little studio would get. You spent the day worrying if you had sweat marks visible on your clothes, ducking into the little toilet you had and splashing your face when you could, trying not to be envious of all the beach loving people who came in. They swept into the booth dusting the floor with sand and filling it with the scent of suncream. They were all so loud and happy, sun tanned and gorgeous. You didn’t realise you could feel any more hot and frumpy than you already did, but these people made you feel hideous.

Still, you plastered on that smile, placated those babies and made the children smile just so you could give them a wonderful memory to take home.

Thankfully the tourists drifted off to get ready for dinner and you were able to sweep the sand out of your front door. The sun was still high but the breeze that came off the sea was refreshing. Seagulls cried above in the blue sky and you sighed deeply taking in the briny smell, thinking of going home and having a cool bath.

You tidied away the last of the props and gathered your laptop and camera so you could do some editing this evening. Just as you were locking the door your phone rang and a soft smile upturned your lips when you saw it was Hvitserk.

“Hey, you.”

“Hey, min smukke. Did you have a good day?”

“I did. I’m just locking up now and then I’m going to have a nice cool bath with a glass of wine.”

“Alone?” You didn’t miss the suggestive hint in his tone and your grin became wider.

“Well I don’t generally bathe with other people, Hvitserk.”

“Sounds like it’s a habit you need to get into.” Your heart raced at his words. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to, it was that you didn’t think anyone would want to. Not with you anyway. You still believed he was hanging around until you opened your legs and then he was going to disappear. Maybe he had a thing for curvier girls, part of you wanted to find out but the logical half was telling you to tread carefully.

“And who exactly would want to start doing that with me? C’mon, Hvitserk.” You felt brave saying it out loud but you bit your lip as you waited for him to reply.

“So after your bath, what are your plans?” The disappointment was tangible but you lifted your chin and smiled tensely into it. You were used to it.

“I’ve got some editing to do and then I might watch a film or something. Pretty sure I’ve some developing to do in the dark room.” You watched your feet as you walked up the street. You were almost home and you couldn’t wait to get out of your converses and peel these gross socks from your skin.

“I think I might put a screwdriver in the works. Is that what you say?” Sniggering lightly, your hand began to dig in your bag for the keys.

“It’s a spanner. Why do you say that?”

“Because I’m outside your house.” Your head snapped up in shock at the sound of him being so close. A slight smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, his hand raising in a wave as he lifted the phone away from his ear. “Surprise.”

“I didn’t think I was seeing you today?” You tried to keep the accusative tone from your voice but it still came across sharper than you’d intended.

“My brothers wanted to go have dinner and I wanted to see you.”

—

The first thing you registered was everything hurt. Your entire body ached, the seatbelt cut deeply into your chest, your head hanging awkwardly. Gently you opened your eyes but it was darker than you expected it to be. For a moment you couldn’t make sense of what you were seeing.

The windscreen was gone, replaced by the ground. This close you could see the sticks and stones, dry leaves all showered in fine, glittery chunks of glass. You groaned, your chest was aching something terrible and you tried to get more comfortable in the seat. Metal ticked as the vehicle settled, a slight hissing sound came from the engine bay and you gasped loudly as the memories rushed back to you. Your breath escalated, pushing through the sharp pain that wrapped around your heart and you looked across to see Hvitserk hanging just as you were.

“Hvitserk!” You croaked. Your arm moved, reaching over to touch him but the effort was almost too much when the pain in your chest flared. “Hvitserk! Wake up!” You could see blood and dirt on his face, his eyes were closed and you began to fear the worst. You made yourself reach again, touching his shoulder only for him to jerk awake.

“Gaaaah!” He shouted, eyes unfocused for a moment before he managed to come back to himself.

“Gods…” he moaned, taking stock of the state of his body. “Elskede?”

“I’m ok,” you breathed, not wanting to tell him how much you hurt. “You ok? Hvitserk?”

“Yeah…” his voice was strained but you put it down to the fact you’d been in an accident. “We need to get out,” he gasped. His arms reached to touch the indented roof of the vehicle as though reassuring himself this was real and not a nightmare.

“I can’t move, my legs,” in fact a numbness was spreading through your body and a weight was resting on your lungs. You coughed, hoping to clear it but it felt like it got worse. “I am….strugg…”

“Elskede? Talk to me!” Tapping your chest weakly you glanced over at him. It was becoming harder and harder to keep the darkness from clouding your vision. “I’m coming!” You wanted to tell him no, what if he injured himself more but the words wouldn’t form. The car chassis creaked as he managed to undo his belt, falling to the floor or the roof…

Glass tinkled as he moved closer to you, his hands wet as he held your limp head up making you look into those gorgeous nature coloured eyes.

“Stay with me min kære.”

“Hvitserk,” you whispered.

“Help! Help us!” You didn’t have the energy to cringe from the loudness of his desperate yell. “Stay with me,” he breathed over your face.

“I l-love you, Hvitserk.”

“No. You don't get to do that! No tears, no tears,” he whispered urgently.

“Kiss me.” His lips were quivering when they touched your own, his hands constantly sweeping your hair back, stroking your skin and trying to keep you with him.

“I love you,” he whispered through the tears as they leaked from his warm eyes. “I can’t live without you.” Smiling slightly, you silently asked for another kiss and he complied.

The delicate, loving touch of his lips was one of the last things you felt. The gentle flex of his fingers against the side of your face, the warmth of his breath; you tucked it all away into the depths of your mind wondering if this is what heaven felt like.

—

We are so pleased to see you’re awake…no strenuous activity…any chest pain needs to be checked immediately…nausea, shortness of breath blah blah blah.

The doctor’s words bounced uselessly around the room while you sat up in your bed. One hand was in the tight grip of Elena while Ashe stood near the end of your hospital bed, both women with concentrated frowns on their faces as they listened to the doctor drone on and on.

Letting out a sigh you let them know you were bored. Enough already with the medical jargon. Sure, you'll tire easily and watch out for anything unusual. You just wanted to get out of here so Hvitserk could look after you back home.

“Shouldn’t Hvitserk be listening to all this?” You suddenly asked. The doctor seemed to choke on her words, her mouth opening and closing uselessly for a second before she looked at Elena. You glanced up at Ashe but she wouldn’t meet your questioning gaze. “Well?” Now you turned to Elena who was staring at your hand that she held on top of your starchy white hospital sheets. Your heart quickened slightly and you licked your lips hating how dry your mouth had become. “Is someone going to answer me?” You demanded. “Where is he?” The doctor said your name, her hands suddenly busy in and out of her pockets as she fidgeted uncomfortably.

“What do you remember from the accident?”

“The truck…” these weren’t things you wanted to think about but the twisting noise of metal was always screeching at the back of your mind. Your nostrils were scarred with the scent of hot rubber and spilled fuel, the tang of it all rolled around the back of your mouth. “We crashed, the ground was in the car. I could see it almost touching distance.” You turned, remembering Hvitserk perfectly. How he hung limply against his seatbelt, his hair dirty and matted… “He had blood coming from here.” Touching your head you frowned. “But he woke up, he freed himself and came towards me, he…” your lips tingled. Absently you touched them with your free hand, fondly remembering the way that even in the middle of devastation he made it feel like everything was ok. “He kissed me,” you whispered with an amused exhale. “Then I don’t remember anything.”

To your surprise Elena let out a gasping sob beside you, her eyes red rimmed and wet, a shaking hand wiping her face as she tried to hide it all from you. Glancing up at Ashe you saw she was smiling a little but it was sad, almost a look of pity mixed with the unshed tears that shone in her eyes.

“Where—is Hvitserk?” You had to clear your throat, to push down the emotion that threatened to steal all logical thought from you. These weren’t the reactions of people who had good news. The doctor coughed lightly, drawing herself upright as she addressed you formally.

“We did everything we could…” No! This is what doctors said right before they shattered lives. Your heart had already been broken once. Why was she insistent on breaking it again with lies? You could feel all their eyes on you as you plucked at the sheet covering your legs, the cannula sat in your hand and you marvelled at the way the clear tape wrinkled flush with your skin.

“Did he put you up to this?”

“Oh god!” Gasped Elena, her hand squeezing you impossibly tighter.

“This is a joke? He loves a prank…” but even your words were empty, holding no certainty as you dared to look up once more. “Please tell me this is a joke?” You pleaded.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” The doctor said sadly but firmly. Loss. I’m sorry for your loss. Except, you hadn’t had a loss? Insisted you were saved first…collapsed…second ambulance…he collapsed…

“Stop…” you whispered but she continued. Brain haemorrhage...pronounced dead…dead… Her words almost screamed at you, jumbling into one big mess that you couldn’t make out until you screeched. Everyone jumped and a hush descended on the group.

“Get out,” you sighed.

“I’m not leaving,” Elena replied thickly but you were tired of looking at her sad face. Her tears made this real, her emotions made him gone.

“Get. Out.” You said louder, feeling the pound of your heart in your chest.

“No—,” nonononononono! It echoed from the depths of your soul. Reverberating around the room in an unseen cloud as the rage built in your mind.

“GET OUT!” You screamed. The words ripped at your throat, clawing their way into existence and the monitor beside your bed began to beep alarmingly.

“You must calm down!” The doctor insisted but you screamed again.

“Get out, get out! All of you! Get out!” Elena got up so quickly she nearly tripped over her own feet, Ashe grabbing her before glaring at you as she led her out of the room.

“You must relax, take some deep breaths,” the doctor spoke quietly, her eyes on the monitor as you threw your head back against your pillow. Grinding your teeth in anger, hurt and frustration you wished she would fuck off too, but her hand was clutching your wrist. Lips moving silently as she counted and slowly the beeping on the machine subsided. “Good.” She patted your arm but you couldn’t look at her, instead choosing to stare blankly at the window where you could see the corner of the building, more windows just like yours and some clouds. “I can have a grief counsellor come and visit you.”

“No.”

“Alright. I will come back to check on you in a couple of hours but ring the bell if you need something. Shall I tell your friends to come back in?”

“No.” You sounded like a sullen, broken record and you didn’t care. You barely noticed her leave as you replayed that last moment with Hvitserk over and over. The softness of his lips against yours, the way they quivered with worry, with love. With death. He had been dying before your eyes and you couldn’t see it, you couldn’t stay awake long enough to notice. You had selfishly passed out, leaving Hvitserk alone in his final moments.

Your sobs were loud, choking and fully as they filled your chest. Shoving up and out of your body as you keened with heartfelt grief. You didn’t want to be here without him, he couldn’t be gone. Logically you knew it was true but still a part of you refused to acknowledge it all. Even with a prank such as this, Hvitserk wouldn’t have been able to let you cry for long, if at all. Lifting a hand to your face you felt your wet tears, wishing his thumbs were wiping them away instead of your fingers.

The pain in your chest was fierce, burning with an intensity you hadn’t experienced before but it was intoxicating at the same time. As you breathed through it you realised you were alive, this meant you were still here and it was all meaningless without the love of your life.

—

The days blurred, falling into a constant rhythm of you napping and not wanting to be awake. When your body refused to let you sleep you were tortured with the fading sounds of the accident. Eventually your lips stopped tingling and you noticed as the finer details of Hvitserk began to disappear.

Desperately you tried to hold on but those memories you needed to keep were like fluid water. Flowing between the fine gaps in your fingers, dripping away into the void that you couldn’t enter.

It felt like he was leaving you all over again, this time even more painful as you watched him drift. Your tears pooled on the fabric of your pillow as you stared out of the window, ignoring life as it passed you by minute after minute.

You’d always assumed death this tragic was like it was in the movies. That you’d get to say your heartfelt and tearful goodbye, to say what you’d always wanted to speak before he slipped away beyond the veil. But this wasn’t a movie. It was your life.

He was gone and it was for good. You’d never get to feel his lips on yours, or run your fingers through his hair. You wouldn’t be able to wake up next to him, to hear his laugh or be subjected to his teasing. Never again would you taste his cooking or steal his beer, because Hvitserk was gone.

How was it fair? You’d finally found something you never thought possible, to experience love that people would cross the globe for only to have it ripped from your clutches. How was it fair?

Elena and Ashe had stopped coming to visit. You couldn’t blame them, you refused to speak or even acknowledge they were there. The doctor came in when she could but even she didn’t stay long, offering you counselling at least three times a day. A question you ignored until the doctor gave up asking and sent one in anyway.

You felt whip sharp anger that you were expected to talk about him on demand. So you kept your mouth shut, letting your eyes go glassy and vacant whenever they entered the room. Let them ask their questions, let them spout nonsense, it all fell on your deaf ears anyway.

Soon you were cleared for release on the condition you continued your counselling sessions. Sure, sitting in silence for an hour a few times a week, away from everyone sounded blissful.

Ubbe was the one to collect you from the hospital, he tentatively entered your room with a plastic bag in his hand. He greeted you quietly, giving you a tickly kiss on the cheek before looking round your room.

“Bet you’re glad to see the back of this room.” You nodded because he expected you to agree. In truth, if you left it meant you had to deal with everything.

“What’s in the bag?”

“Oh….” He looked at it, his expression telling you he’d forgotten he was even holding it. “It’s yours and….your items from the crash.”

“I’ve been asking for my phone,” you grumbled. The plastic was loud in the quiet room but the first thing you saw was Hvitserk’s arm ring. Why was it in here? He was never without this! Your hand slipped into the bag, slowly dragging the bronze item out. Feeling its weight in your palm before admiring the ravens on the ends.

—

Breathe.

Your hands looked so small in your lap sitting atop the blackness of your skirt. Your tights were chafing slightly, the shimmery material making a bristling noise when you rubbed your legs together.

Keep doing that, you’ll sound like a cricket.

A snort forced its way out of your chest and a hand snaked towards yours. Looking up you saw the concerned gaze of Ubbe, his blue eyes red rimmed and you remembered what was happening. You had a special place in the limo with the Lothbroks, squished between Ubbe and Ivar with Ragnar, Aslaug, Sigurd and Björn on the other seats. The atmosphere was somber…

Well it would be. It’s a funeral. I would prefer some colour though, maybe some blue face paint?

It was a struggle not to roll your eyes. You didn’t want to alert anyone to the fact you could still hear Hvitserk. You didn’t care what anyone thought, you didn’t want them to take him away.

I’m not going anywhere.

The limo glided to a stop and Ragnar helped Aslaug out first. Björn was next with Sigurd straight after. Ubbe got out, his hand reaching for yours and you managed a rather graceful exit of the vehicle. Automatically you looked around to gloat to Hvitserk but he wasn’t here. Ragnar and Ubbe helped Ivar, you stepped to the side nervously smoothing down the back of your skirt. Looking up you squinted against the glare of the sun, peering at the crematorium and thinking what a morbid place this was.

It’s meant to be. It’s a crematorium. In England.

You opened your mouth to retaliate when you felt a touch on your shoulder. Turning quickly you thought you were going to see Hvitserk but instead it was Elena and Ashe.

“Hey, doll.” Elena whispered huskily, her makeup already smudged from crying on the way here. Ashe gave you a tight hug before turning her attention to Ivar who brooded next to the black limo.

“Did he say anything?” She asked quietly and you shook your head knowing that Hvitserk’s…absence had hit Ivar quite hard.

“You can go to him. I’m ok.”

“Are you sure?” You nodded and nudged her in Ivar’s direction.

“Go on, before his mother descends.” Elena linked arms with you, her whole body quivering as she sniffed weakly. More mourners were arriving, the brothers were greeting everyone while Ragnar seemed to be holding Aslaug upright. Eventually Björn wandered over to the pair of you, Elena leaving your side to be greeted by her partner.

You tried not to watch them, ignoring the heavy weight inside your chest that manifested suddenly. Looking to your side you imagined Hvitserk coming up behind you. Time slowed and you swore you could hear him step up beside you. Shutting your eyes to block out everything around you and lifting your hand to rest on your shoulder.

I told you…I’m not going anywhere.

The sound of your name shattered the moment and time sped up to catch itself. Ubbe was standing before you with his arm out and ready for you to take.

“Everyone is here.” At his words your gaze darted to see the hurst that had arrived. Inside was an ornate wooden box and flowers of all shades lined the top and sides. His name was spelled out with white and green flowers, that was the first thing to exit the hurst.

“No…” this made it real. Your heart pumped wildly, your breath stopped by the heavy weight that threatened to drag you down. Your legs became like jelly, Ubbe catching you just in time. “Hvitserk!” His name was barely a whisper but the word filled your mouth, your mind, your heart until he was tattooed all over you. Ubbe was whispering in your ear, his voice rich and calming but you couldn’t hear a word he was saying.

The coffin was dragged out into the sunshine, what a fine joke. Such nice weather for such an awful day.

Would you rather it rained?

“But you love the rain.”

Fair point.

He wasn’t really in there. Poor Björn and Floki had to bend so Sigurd, Ragnar, Ubbe and Halfdan could help carry the empty coffin. Because it was. Empty. Right?

Elena was back at your side, you didn’t even realise she’d replaced Ubbe, steering you in after the coffin procession. Ashe was concentrating on Ivar, making sure he was comfortable before sitting next to him.

Sniffles and coughs echoed off the painted stone walls from the congregation. The pitiful sounds of sadness registered with you but only vaguely.

It felt like you’d been put inside a clear plastic ball, everything was distorted, voices sounding like they were coming from underwater and even your vision was unfocused. You watched as Aslaug put up a picture of Hvitserk smiling, propping it on top of the coffin with his banjo. Ragnar and his sons all left something on the coffin so they would be set alight with the coffin and Hvitserk could take the items with him. What a joke. He wasn’t even in there!

You subconsciously began to play with the arm ring on your wrist, tracing the pattern to the raven heads. Maybe that should go on the coffin? It was his after all.

No. Keep it. Keep a piece of me with you.

Tears welled in your eyes. This was real, suffocatingly real. You gasped so loudly everyone close to you turned to stare. Ubbe was half out of his seat but Elena was pulling you to the exit. Tears stung your eyes, which made you cry more, how ridiculous.

Outside, there you can let go.

You pushed the glass door and spilled out into the sunshine. Your breaths were short and fast, you couldn’t get enough air past the pressing weight on your chest. Your outfit was restricting you, the fabric prickling your skin as heat raced through your body. You came to a stop a little way down the path, leaning on a wooden post and your tear filled gaze was drawn to all the flowers displayed on the floor. His name was in the middle proudly presented with all the flowers that people had bought because they thought it helped. What good were flowers really? Ashe would tell you about each flower and what they meant, their cost and what colours compliment each other…but really. What good were flowers? Elena went with you, her hand continuously touching your arm or your shoulder. She began to read the cards that people had pointlessly put with the flowers, names and people you’d never met. People who didn’t know you exist, let alone your love for Hvitserk.

“These are beautiful,” Elena gushed softly.

“He’d have hated it.”

I prefer wild flowers.

“He preferred wild flowers, not these cultivated, farmed for their perfection, plastic looking…” your words choked off, strangled by a fresh wave of tears.

Say it like it is.

“I can’t stay.” Elena called your name but you ignored her. Finally feeling life in your limbs as you walked away. The further you got the easier it was to breathe, the less your tears fell and the less foggy everything felt. You left the crematorium not caring where you were going, you just knew the greater the distance the better you felt.

#emptying my docs #sami’s fic stash #hvitserk x f!reader #modern hvitserk x reader #hvitserk #Vikings au #modern au

[ninjago-bingo]

July Recap!

woot everyone!  another month just flying by, bringing with it this time 18 new pieces!  It’s been awesome to see everyone’s work so far, and I’m looking forward to what next month will bring :D

As always, if I’ve missed your piece, don’t hesitate to let me know!  This recap is in one post because I felt it more manageable than 50 XD

Art (low-res, click the link to go to the original post):

Bonds and trust by @emisnt2

Don’t trust Kai, Jay and Cole to cook together

Care by @jss-sucks

Out of all the ideas I could’ve chose, I chose “Little Lloyd in a box”

Golden by @eternityinfinitydivinity

Based on the “Golden Legend” short Ninjago put out on their 10th anniversary. By far my favourite of the shorts :DD

Habits and influence by @/emisnt2

When your little sister follows your swearing habit

Hugs by @/jss-sucks

“Haha! I love my little sister!”

Oni by @/eternityinfinitydivinity

I know that Golden Oni Lloyd probably has a mask, buuuuuut he looks much more awesome if he went full-on oni :D

Oni and blood by @destinymanticor

like a painful transformation? idk

Post-fight and impulsivity by @sebilini

After the battle the team searched for Zane’s body. They found it laying alone and destroyed among the rubble. But they had to leave it soon, as there were many citizens who urgently needed their help. They would grieve their friend’s impulsive decision for months to come

Return by @the9thghost

Same by @/emisnt2

Ninja but matching dino hoodies >:D

Fic

At Low Tide by @frozensoapbubble.  tumblr || ao3 || prompts: ocean and strength

A water dragon, living incarnation of the Endless Sea, saves the life of a young whale. The moment brings back memories – or rather, echoes of familiar words, fleeting images, shadows of sensations that the dragon had long thought forgotten.

If only she could remember what they meant.

Thank You, For Giving Me Wings by @weekend-whip​.  tumblr || ao3 || prompt: care

Wu reflects on a question Zane asked him years ago, as only now can he comprehend the answer.

Ghost Story by @ace-of-spaces.  tumblr || ao3 || prompt: ghost

After Cole’s turned into a ghost, he isn’t doing that well.

Jay’s decided to do something about that. Even if ‘something’ means an hour-long conversation.

Memorabilia by @/ace-of-spaces.  tumblr || ao3 || prompt: merch

noun; A record of things worth remembering.

Or, Every so often, Lloyd and Kai would spend a day together in New Ninjago City laughing at how derpy the Ninja merch could be.

Nyctophobia by @/ace-of-spaces.  tumblr || ao3 || prompt: lights

After the events of March of The Oni, Cole wakes up in the dark.

That is a recipe for a sure-fire disaster.

One Step At A Time by @unknownuncut.  tumblr || ao3 || prompt: habits

Kai keeps noticing habits among his friends but one stuck out more than the others.

too fast / too slow by @21st-century-ninja.  tumblr || ao3 || prompts: bonds and trust

Soulbonds- soulbonds are special. They’re magical, even. They’re groups of people with souls so close that they strip down even the barriers of individuality, filtering impressions of thoughts and feelings between each member of the bond without even needing to speak aloud. Before a bond is completed, these impressions remain impressions. But once the last person in a bond comes of age and turns 16, all of the members gain total access to the others’ thoughts and the bond is complete.

Lloyd is 100 percent certain that Cole, Kai, Nya, Zane, and Jay are his bondmates.

Then his 16th birthday comes and goes with nothing to show for it.

You’ll Heal But You Won’t Be Fine by @/unknownuncut.  tumblr || ao3 || prompt: healing

It was kinda dumb now that Cole thought back to it.

@k1ngtok1​ @crappy-coffee​ @morro-owo @grollow​ @master-of-cosmos​@roantheboat​ @art-i-sticks​ @viioletpixels​ @miserable-flamango​ @ninjas-that-go @marsipain​ @redefine-your-identity​ @pangolinsandnewts17 @master-of-fluff​ @vampireautism @highfiveu-withaknife​ @peachyninjago​ @applecranberryjuice​ @mitzle​ @ice-emperor-zane​ @curious-corvius @ninjago4life​ @arellys-arts​ @kumamoo-hq​ 

#recap #ninbingo #ninjago #ninbingo 22

[cthonicascendant]

About

Welcome to the [redacted] Hive

Body Name: Xenica | Xen Body Age: mid 30s Collective Pronouns: It/Its | He/Him System Type: Praesigenic Median

Boundaries

Things we will block you for:

Sending us shipcourse.

Asking us about incest/pedophilia/etc.

Sending hate messages, threats, or doxxing.

We're also fairly liberal with the block button, so don't be too alarmed if you are blocked and didn't do anything on this list. We will block people just for vaguely annoying us on a given day. (If you ask nicely on anon and we really can't remember or find why we blocked you, we'll probably lift the block.)

All asks will be published (eventually), with the exception of call out posts and donation requests. We do not have the time or inclination to verify those, and will simply delete them with an acknowledgement of receipt in a separate post. Repeatedly attempting to send us these types of asks will ALSO get you blocked.

Seriously, do not put anything in our ask box you're not comfortable being published. And please direct all horny asks over to @whendidthisbecomeawhorehouse .

Minors do NOT interact with that blog. I will block you from here too.

The trolls do not mind and in fact actively welcome other Homestucks - other fictives, kin, etc. you're all fine. (They do not mind RP blogs but do ask that you respect this is NOT roleplay for them.)

We are pro-endo and are not accepting syscourse at this time.

We are queer and polyamorous. (Other systems and trans people are more than welcome to hit us up. ;) Singlets and cis people can shoot your shot but you're at a disadvantage.)

Some of us use typing quirks, but we can turn them off to varying degrees. That said, for the most part you should probably filter "typing quirk" and "untranslated typing quirk" if quirks bother you, since the bulk of the posting around here is done by Voidsong. (Although I question why you are following us if quirks are an issue. /polite /genuinely curious)

Speaking of tags, we're not very consistent about tagging beyond the typing quirks. We can't promise that we'll be able to consistently tag for anything, so if you do need something tagged we may not be the blog to follow. (We do not mind being asked to add a tag to something, just be aware we may not remember to tag for that subject in the future.)

For the most part you can ask for a specific hivemate/alter and we're willing to switch, but please check individual boundaries.

More about individual hivemates under the cut.

The Main Crew

Voidsong Pronouns: He/Him/His Age: 15 sweeps (approx. 33 years) Typing Quirk: 5phinx of black quartz judge my Vovv Ask to pilot: If he's not already here, don't ask unless you're very close. Additional Boundaries: None.

Crow(ley) Pronouns: Sey/Sem/Seir/Semself Age: 33 years Typing Quirk: <<sphinx of black quartz, judge my vow.>> Ask to pilot: Most likely already here as well, but doesn't mind coming to the helm if not. Additional Boundaries: No flirting - if you're interested in Crow please be direct with sem. No feminine terms.

Mierco Pronouns: It/Its | Ey/Em/Eir/Emself Age: 19 sweeps (approx. 40 years) Typing Quirk: >.sphinx of black quartz. .judge my vow.< Ask to pilot: Yes. Additional Boundaries: No unsolicited advice.

Diakto Pronouns: Xe/Xem/Xer/Xemself Age: ?? sweeps (young adult) Typing Quirk: ≈sssphinxxx of black quartzzz, judge my vow.~ Ask to pilot: Yes. Additional Boundaries: No nicknames other than D(ee).

Aiclas Pronouns: She/Her/Hers Age: ???? (adult) Typing Quirk: The quick brown fox jump6 over the lazy dog. Al∫o u∫e6 ∫ in place of lowerca∫e S in the middle of word6. Ask to pilot: Any time! Additional Boundaries: None.

The Moth Department

Aletheia Pronouns: She/Her/Hers Age: 37 years Typing Quirk: None. Ask to pilot: Only when the body is not high. Additional Boundaries: Platonic affection only (e.g. no kissing or flirty touches).

Zeke Pronouns: He/Him/His Age: 37 years Typing Quirk: None. Ask to pilot: No. Additional Boundaries: None.

Melara | Havocfey Pronouns: Any Age: 10 sweeps (approx. 21 years) Typing quirk: I-O Sphinx of black quartz, judge my vow. O-I Ask to pilot: Yes. Additional Boundaries: None.

Glitch Pronouns: It/Its | Any Neopronouns Age: ???? Typing Quirk: No, but it communicates solely in quotes, memes, and pop culture references. Ask to pilot: Yes. (why?) Additional Boundaries: None.

The Labs

Harry Pronouns: He/Him/His Age: 54 years Typing Quirk: None. Ask to pilot: You can, but he may not respond. Additional Boundaries: No flirting, no displays of affection, and no nicknames.

Grub Pronouns: She/Her/Hers | Grub/Grubs/Grubself Age: 7 years Typing Quirk: None. Ask to pilot: No. Additional Boundaries: In the event Grub ever gets to go on this blog (unlikely), please treat her similarly to a regular child.

#about #Void5ong #>.mierco.< #diakto #~aletheia m.~ #the moth department #glitchposting #I-O Melara O-I #~harry #aicla6 #yeah idk vvhat the 5y5tem name i5 goin to be yet but executiVe deci5ion the old one vva5 makin me feel bad 5o it5 gone #Last Edited: 24 Jul 23 #Patch Notes: -Added Aiclas. #«crow»

[kuroyorusimpdom]

Habringer

*Part 6*

Minors DNI | NSFW | Smut / Lemon |

Pairings: Aizawa Shouta x OC, Bakugou Katsuki x OC, Hitoshi Shinsou x OC

Dom/Sub, pegging, Orgasm Denial, Post Cannon, Aged Up

[10:21pm]  Boom Boy: Tell me I did not just see you leave with fucking Aizawa

[10:26pm] Boom Boy: What the fuck Kai. 

[10:39pm] Boom Boy: I’m coming to your God damn Apartment, you better be there.

[10:57pm] Boom Boy: Kai Where are you, seriously. Call me.

[6:37am] Sexy Sensei: Get out of my apartment.

The groan that left Kaida’s mouth echoed off the walls of the unfamiliar room. Her head felt heavy and the sunlight filtering through the curtains made her want to throw herself back under the duvet. Her eyes took several moments to adjust and take in the space around her -- well, this Definitely wasn’t her apartment, and definitely was an unfamiliar bed.

Her phone was plugged in on the side table and the LCD screen lit up with another incoming text 

[7:05am] Boom Boy: I’m tracking your location and coming to you. I’m seriously fucking worried.

Kai sighed and rubbed her eyes, it was too early for this, and she was definitely too hungover for the level of drama Bakugou was exuding. 

What the hell even happened last night? She could remember Aizawa helping her into his car -- and then she had insisted that they hit up a bar to numb the absolute shitshow that was seeing Hitoshi…

They may have had a few too many drinks. And a vague memory of Aizawa trying to get her home address out of her unsuccessfully explained why she was in a strange apartment (if her texts were to be believed it was obviously Aizawa’s apartment - leave it to drunk Kai to save her teacher as something embarrassing in her phone, she probably did it right in front of him).

Damn, I didn’t even text Katsuki to let him know I was leaving - I’m an asshole

Kaida thought to herself as she swung her legs over the bed and attempted to stand up. A quick glance down found her body still in her lingerie she had worn under her dress, but with the addition of a black long sleeve shirt that smelled like coffee and was way too big to belong to her. 

Despite the shirt, she knew that her and Aizawa didn’t hook up, so that was a plus. Her underwear was waaaaay too complicated to try and put back on when she was intoxicated, so it still adorning her body meant it was never removed in the first place. 

Cool cool cool. At least there's that, even if she made an absolute fool of herself infront of her (hot) ex teacher, they hadn’t fucked.

A door to her left opened to reveal a bathroom - thank the goddess. Leave it to Aizawa to leave her alone in a strange apartment to figure shit out on her own. 

Kai was having a heavy internal debate about whether or not it would be weird to shower after she had emptied her bladder when loud pounding at the front door made the decision for her.

She tilted her head in confusion as the pounding continued, until she eyed her phone still sitting on the side table and remembered the text she had received

“Shit”

She had forgotten to text Kats back and let him know that she was fine, she would bet her year's salary that the aggressive knocking at the door was him.

It didn’t take long for her to follow the sound of the knocking and find the front door (through the surprisingly tidy and minimalist home that Aizawa had) and open it to find a very angry blonde on the other side.

His red eyes took her in - making their way from her bare legs, to the oversized shirt that was clearly not hers.

The rage was palpable as the silence permeated the space they were standing in.

“Hey Kats” 

His scowl deepend as he pushed his way past Kaida and into the strange apartment, “Don’t you fucking ‘hey Kats’ me”

He bullied Kai further into the apartment, arms crossed until the door was able to shut behind him.

“Where the fuck have you been? I’m pretty fucking sure we had a standing appointment together last night and you just fucking dissapeared into thin air” his voice was tinged with rage as he stood over her, “I rush my ass over here worried about you to find you in some fuckers shirt and no God damn pants. 

Does our arrangement mean absolutely nothing to you? You’re cool with jumping into just anyone's bed then? I guess I’ll do the same thing next time” 

Bakugou watched her expression twist at his words. He had fallen back into old habits and let his anger and hurt color the way he spoke to her without much conscious thought, only now that he saw her reaction did he realize that perhaps he should have held himself back - or just used his damn brain to filter his words.

“How fucking dare you Katsuki” her eyes sharpened as she straightened her spine and took on an aggressive stance. “Instead of showing up and throwing around baseless accusations, you could have just fucking asked me what happened and why I left.

 But no.

As fucking usual, you’re shoot first ask questions later. This is why things are the way they are between us”

Bakugou’s face contorted from anger to something else as Kai spoke. This was not what he had come to do. He genuinely was concerned about her - he didn’t show up just to yell at her. 

Fuck. Why did he always do this to himself?

He forced his face to soften from the scowl he had been previously wearing and stepped towards Kai, reaching his hands out to try and ground her, show that he didn’t mean it.

Kai simply backed away from his hands and crossed her arms over her chest. 

A picture of defiance. Always making things difficult and acting like a brat.

Kai tilted her chin up to look down her nose at the taller man, “You can’t just call me a slut and then expect to be allowed to touch me”

“I didn’t call you a slut”

The glare Kaida pinned him with was lethal, “The implication was pretty fucking strong”

Katsuki sank himself down in the plush armchair as he rubbed a hand over his face. He took a moment to compose himself and then looked up and locked gazes with her. He found himself softening further as he took in the genuine hurt swimming in the forest green of her eyes.

“I’m sorry Kai. I didn’t mean to come in and attack you like that” he watched as her posture relaxed slightly, and the fire behind her irises dimmed at his apology, “What happened that made you leave without me? I know was late to meet with you, but it was the stupid fucking coat check that held me up. I swear I wasn’t standing you up or anything” he sighed, “Usually you would have just waited for me”

Kaida eyed him while he rubbed at his face in frustration. It was unusual for him to offer an apology so easily. He had always been a stubborn asshole, refusing to admit his faults even when they were clear. The fact that he acquiesced so quickly was enough to melt her heart a little.

Deciding that rather than let him grovel she would just explain, Kai moved to sit opposite him

“Hitoshi showed up and fucking cornered me”

Anger contorted Bakugou’s face as he snarled “Fucking what?”

“Yeah, he wouldn’t let me leave, kept trying to talk to me” Kaida rubbed her hand down her face as she recalled the events of last night, “I was on the verge of a panic attack and Aizawa must have noticed what was going on cause he came in and bailed me out”

“I’ll kill that fucking troll doll the next time I see him”

Kai rolled her eyes and smirked at his long standing nickname for Shinsou. 

“Yeah well, I did wait for you. But you weren’t there and I honestly wanted to get the fuck out of there before Hitoshi had a chance to recover his jaw from the floor at the fact that Aizawa and I were dating”

Bakugou’s eyes narrowed, and his jaw clenched at her words. There was no way in the course of the 45 minutes he had been separated from her last night Aizawa had slid in and asked Kai to be his girlfriend … There was no way Kaida said yes to that… Right?

Noticing his shift in demeanor Kai clarified

“Not actually dating, obviously. 

He used it as a cover to swoop in and get me out of the conversation. It’s not like Hitoshi would have known either way, I haven’t seen him in forever, and I try to keep my personal shit out of the media - So does Aizawa”

The relief flooded Bakugou as she explained. Of course she wouldn’t have started dating their fucking teacher. She wasn’t interested in dating anyone. Which is why he hadn’t tried any further to define this thing between them. Aizawa showing up wouldn’t change that.

“Fuck Kai, I’m sorry I wasn’t there” Bakugou sighed as he made his way towards her, kneeling infront of where she was sat on the couch, “I wish I was the one to notice and save you from that shit. I’m glad someone was there to get you out of that situation though, even if it pisses me off that it was that old fucker”

Kai’s lips turned up in a smirk. 

“He’s not that old Kats”

“Fucking old enough”

Kai’s smirk grew until it was a full blown grin “Sounds to me like you might be jealous”

The scoff that came out of Bakugou was loud as he stood up and stalked towards the door to the apartment 

“Ain’t nothing to be jealous of Princess - he’s not the one who can make you fall apart, I am”

Kai’s responding blush was enough to puff his chest up with pride as he stood by the front door

“Put your damn clothes on and let's get outta here. I’m off today and I’m owed repentance from last night”

#bakugou x reader #bakugou fanfiction #bakugou smut #bakugou x oc #katsuki bakugou #aizawa fanfiction #shouta aizawa #shouta aizawa x reader #shouta aizawa x oc #bhna fanfiction #shinsou x reader #shinsou hitoshi x oc

[dinnerbug]

Thought I'd leave my ao3 skin thingy here because no matter how hard I tried I couldn't find one with a yellow background (other than one that was wayyy too bright for my liking) and I realised recently yellow backgrounds make it easier for me to read so I tried my hand at making my own with absolutely zero experience or idea of how to do so. It's a bit scuffed, you can't really see whatever you'd call the bit that's says the number of chapters, kudos, words and so on but only while you're on a fic. When you're scrolling through looking for fics you can see them just fine and that was good enough for me lol. It's mostly just a messily recoloured version of a skin I found on a random reddit post (if I remember who's I'll probably come back and edit the link to the post onto this) but I tried my best and it kinda worked lmao

I have the colour pallets I used saved on my phone I think? So if anyone actually sees this and wants to fix the scuffed colours I'll happily send them (I'm also quite certain the dodgy colour bits are the ones more towards the end since I kinda just filled the parts I couldn't figure out what they changed with dark brown)

Enough of my rambling now so here it is, my quite banana looking yellow background ao3 skin:

body,

#inner,

#outer {

background: #ffff99;

color: #30231d;

border-color: #30231d;

}

#header {

margin-bottom: 0px;

}

#header,

#header .heading a {

background-color: #30231d;

color: #6a5750;

padding-top: 10px;

}

#header ul.primary,

#outer #footer,

.toggled form {

background: #6a5750;

color: #30231d;

box-shadow: none;

padding-top: 10px;

padding-bottom: 10px;

margin-top: 5px;

}

#header .primary a {

color: #ffffcc;

}

#header a {

color: #ffff99;

}

#header a:visited {

color: #30231d;

}

#header a:hover {

color: #fff8dc;

}

#header a:focused {

color: #fff8dc;

}

#header .navigation .dropdown .menu li a {

color: #1F1915;

}

#header .navigation .dropdown .menu li a:hover {

color: #fff8dc;

}

#header h1.heading {

margin-left: 30px;

}

#header #search .text {

padding: 5px 7px;

}

#header .user a #greeting {

margin-top: 0.5em;

margin-right: 30px;

}

#header li.search {

float: right;

position: relative;

padding-right: 30px;

}

#footer {

background-color: #6a5750;

color: #30231d;

}

fieldset,

fieldset fieldset,

fieldset dl dl {

background: #6a5f5a;

color: #d4cecb;

border: none;

border-radius: 15px;

box-shadow: none;

}

.filters .expander {

color: #ffffcc;

}

.filters .expandable,

.filters .group dd.autocomplete {

margin: 0;

}

form dt {

border-bottom: 1px dotted #d4cecb;

}

form.filters {

background: none;

}

textarea {

width: 100%;

border-radius: 15px;

}

.sort select {

background: #30231d;

border-radius: 15px;

padding: 4px 7px;

width: 100%;

}

.autocomplete input,

input {

background-color: #30231d;

border-radius: 15px;

padding: 4px 7px;

width: 90%;

}

input:focus,

input:focus-visible,

select:focus,

textarea:focus {

background: #b5a397;

outline: 1.5px solid #30231d;

}

.group.listbox,

fieldset fieldset.listbox,

form blockquote.userstuff,

.group.listbox .index,

.dashboard fieldset fieldset.listbox .index,

#dashboard a:hover,

th,

#dashboard .secondary,

.secondary,

.thread .even,

.system .tweet_list li,

.ui-datepicker tr:hover {

background: #ffffcc;

box-shadow: none;

border: 1px solid #30231d;

border-radius: 15px;

}

.listbox,

fieldset fieldset.listbox {

border: none;

}

.home .header h2 {

color: #30231d;

}

li.blurb,

li.blurb.own {

border: none;

background: #ffffcc;

padding: 2em;

border-radius: 15px;

}

.blurb h4 a:link,

.blurb h4 img {

vertical-align: bottom;

}

.blurb h4 a:link:hover,

.blurb h4 a:link:visited:hover,

.blurb h4 img {

color: #30231d;

vertical-align: bottom;

}

.splash .favorite li:nth-of-type(odd) a,

.statistics .index li:nth-of-type(even) {

background-color: rgba(106, 95, 90, 0.463);

}

#footer a:hover,

#footer a:focus,

.autocomplete .dropdown ul li:hover,

li.selected,

a.tag:hover,

li.relationships a.tag:hover,

li.characters a.tag:hover,

.listbox .heading a.tag:visited:hover,

a:visited:hover,

a.tag:visited:hover,

.symbol .question,

.qtip-content,

.splash .favorite li:nth-of-type(2n+1) a:hover,

.splash .favorite li:nth-of-type(2n+1) a:focus {

background: #f08080;

color: #ffffcc;

}

.actions a:hover,

.actions input:hover,

.actions a:focus,

.actions input:focus,

label.action:hover,

.action:hover,

.action:focus {

box-shadow: none;

border-radius: 15px;

padding: 4px 12px;

}

span.unread,

.replied,

span.claimed,

dl.index dd,

.own,

.draft,

.draft .unread,

.draft .wrapper,

.unread,

.child,

.unwrangled,

.unreviewed,

.ui-sortable li:hover {

background: #30231d;

opacity: 1;

border: none;

border-radius: 15px;

}

.actions a,

.actions a:link,

.action,

.action:link,

.actions input,

input[type="submit"],

button,

.current,

.actions label {

background: #b5a397;

border: 1px solid #30231d;

border-radius: 15px;

padding: 4px 15px;

}

.actions a:active,

.current,

a.current,

a:link.current,

.current a:visited {

background: #ffffcc;

border: 1.5px solid #ffffcc;

box-shadow: inset 1px 1px 3px #ffffcc;

border-radius: 15px;

padding: 4px 15px;

}

.actions a:hover,

.actions a:link:hover,

.action:link:hover,

.actions input:hover,

input[type="submit"]:hover,

button:hover,

.current:hover,

.actions label:hover {

background: #ffffc;

}

.actions a:visited,

.action:visited,

.action a:link,

.action a:visited {

color: #6c4f49;

}

a,

a:link {

color: #ffffff;

text-decoration: none;

}

a,

a:link,

a:visited:hover {

color: #fff8dc;

text-decoration: none;

border-bottom: 1px solid;

}

a,

a.tag,

dt a:visited {

color: #30231d;

}

a:visited,

.listbox .heading a:visited {

color: #6c4f49;

}

li.relationships a {

background: none;

}

#main .wrapper {

box-shadow: none;

border-radius: 15px;

position: relative;

z-index: 1;

margin-top: 10px;

}

dl.meta {

border: none;

background-color: #30231d;

border-radius: 15px;

padding: 2em;

margin-top: 10px;

}

#workskin {

background: none;

border-radius: 15px;

padding: 0em 1em;

margin: 20px 0px;

max-width: none;

}

.preface a:hover,

.preface a:visited:hover {

text-decoration: underline;

color: #30231d;

background: none;

}

div.comment,

li.comment {

border: none;

border-radius: 15px;

padding: 15px;

color: #30231d;

background: #6a5f5a;

}

.comment h4.byline {

color: #6a5f5a;

border-radius: 15px;

padding-right: 20px;

background: #ffffcc;

}

.toggled form,

.dynamic form {

background: #c8bebb;

}

a.rss span {

background: none;

padding: 0px;

}

.search [role="tooltip"] {

color: #30231d;

}

.bookmark .user,

.reading h4.viewed {

background: none;

border: 1px solid #ffffcc;

}

#dashboard .current {

background: #ffffcc;

}

.inspired.index.group,

.signup.index.group,

.assignment.index.group {

background: #ffffcc;

padding: 0.25em;

}

.inspired.index.group dd {

border-bottom: 1.5px dotted #ededed;

}

form.verbose legend,

.verbose form legend {

background: #6a5f5a;

border: 2px solid #ffffcc;

box-shadow: none;

}

.delete a,

span.delete {

padding: 0 .1em;

box-shadow: 0px 0px 2px rgba(0, 0, 0, .75);

background-color: #ffffcc;

}

#modal {

background: #b5a397;

border-color: #30231d;

border-radius: 15px;

}

#modal .footer .action.modal-closer {

background-color: #ffffcc;

}

#symbols-key dl {

background: #ffffcc;

border: none;

border-radius: 15px;

padding: 1em;

margin-bottom: 0px;

}

.notice,

.comment_notice,

.kudos_notice,

ul.notes,

.caution,

.error,

.comment_error,

.kudos_error,

.alert.flash {

background: #6a5750;

border: 1px solid #30231d;

margin: .643em auto;

padding: 15px;

clear: right;

box-shadow: 1px 1px 2px gray;

border-radius: 15px;

color: #ffffcc;

}

ul.actions {

margin-bottom: 0px;

}

.comment fieldset {

padding: 2em;

}

form.verbose legend,

.verbose form legend {

box-shadow: none;

border-radius: 15px;

}

#bookmark-form.post.bookmark form {

background: #ffffcc;

border-radius: 15px;

margin-top: 1em;

padding: 2em;

}

.new.dynamic #bookmark-form {

background: #ffffcc;

}

.toggled form p.footnote,

.dynamic form p.footnote {

padding-bottom: 0.2em;

}

.removeme fieldset {

background: #ffffcc;

color: #ffffcc;

}

#outer,

.javascript,

.statistics .index li:nth-of-type(even),

#tos_prompt,

.announcement input[type="submit"] {

background: #30231d;

}

media="only screen and (max-width: 42em),

handheld" .filtering .filters #leave_filters,

.javascript .filters p.narrow-shown {

background: #ffffcc;

}

.warnings .tag,

.work .warning a.tag,

dt.warning.tags a,

dd.warning.tags a {

color: #9b4244;

font-style: normal;

}

li.relationships a,

.relationships .tag,

.work .relationships a.tag,

dt.relationship.tags,

dd.relationship.tags a {

background: none;

color: #a66a40;

}

.characters .tag,

.work .characters a.tag,

dt.character.tags,

dd.character.tags a {

color: #569566;

}

.freeforms .tag,

.work .freeforms a.tag,

dt.freeform.tags,

dd.freeform.tags a {

color: #4c709a;

}

.kudos_error {

border-color: #090;

background: #d1efd1;

}

#ao3 #ao3 skins #ao3 skin #I have no idea what else to tah this with #Gloombusglombus #have a great day