#AGAIN LANCE IS NOT DEAD

[autisticlancemcclain]

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– – –

The hole doesn’t go away in the pod. 

It was stupid to think that it would. They all watched him die. All of them. They watched his eyes go dull. They watched him collapse to the ground. He swayed, for a moment. Like his body wasn’t quite ready to fall, ready to give up, even as his brain was fried to death. 

He fell forward, in the end. Even though he was against a wall. He tipped right forward, nose smashing to the ground, like he was suddenly top heavy. None of them were fast enough to catch him. None of them were fast enough to even move, not for several moments, not for so long that they would have been killed, too, if their helmets had been cracked like Lance’s.

The worst part was that he laid there. For who knows how long. Just – by himself, on the ground, arms tucked close to his chest, face to the floor. Like he does when he’s really frustrated with something and needs to feel the weight of his body crushing him a little. Sometimes when he’s really frustrated he does that in front of Keith. He stomps to Keith’s room and flops right on Keith’s bed, careless of how many times he bumps into Keith on the way down, shoves his face in Keith’s pillow and tucks his arms under him. That’s how Keith knows he does it, the arm thing. Because he trusts Keith enough to feel frustrated around him.

It made Keith really guilty. Here he was, fighting off a hoard of Galran soldiers with burning eyes, as Lance lay frustrated behind him. Injured, too. That wasn’t fair. Keith was supposed to be helping. He was supposed to be quietly running his hand over Lance’s back until Lance settled enough to talk. That was his job. He needed to do his job. 

“Room’s thinning out,” Shiro had said quietly. “Keep it up and we’ll be done with this in twenty, okay, guys?”

There was no answer. Not even a twitch of acknowledgement. No one spoke up or grunted or nodded or nothing. Nothing until the final soldier was killed, slashed to pieces by Keith’s blade. Nothing for several moments after, even, as all of them stood still and listless and thoughtless. 

“We must go now,” Allura had announced, finally breaking the silence. “Home. Castle. We must.”

Her words seemed to snap the rest of them into action, each of them stepping over the carnage they made, with half-aborted movements, hesitant and confused. 

“We need the data,” Pidge mumbled. “That we came here for. Before we blow the place.”

Hunk had made a noise. Keith still doesn’t quite know how to describe it. It was gravelly, almost. Scraped raw. Not quite pained, though. Not then. Like a thought had travelled down from his brain to be shared to the group but had shriveled up and died in his throat. Like he wasn’t sure of anything, anymore. 

“I’ll wait with Lance,” Hunk had said softly. “He got hurt. He shouldn’t – he doesn’t like being alone. Not when he’s hurt.”

Hysterical laughter bubbled up in Keith’s throat, and it took every ounce of strength he had to fight it off, to shove it down somewhere dark and stupid inside him. “Not ever.” 

Keith stumbled over the severed leg of a sentry, on his way to Lance. The sting of his palms smacking on the metal ground zapped right up his arms, making his elbows shake. He struggled to get back to his feet. He thinks he kicked a few more scattered limbs on his way up. He’s not sure. He knows the sound of it rattled around in his brain. 

He and Hunk reached Lance at the same time. The rest of the team had already filed out by then, or at least Keith hadn’t noticed them in the room anymore. Not that he really noticed anything, at that point. At that point, all he was worried about were his hands, gently around Lance’s left arm, hauling him up with Hunk’s help to lean on the wall. Keith and Hunk sat pressed closely to either side of him, propping him upright.

“It’ll be okay, Lance,” Hunk had said quietly. “I’ll carry you back to the castle. And then a couple hours in the healing pod and you’ll be up in no time.”

It’s been six hours, now. None of them have done anything but stand, tired and banged up and exhausted, staring blankly ahead of them. Keith keeps cycling the day over and over in his brain. Somehow, the look on Lance’s face, seconds after the blast burns through his forehead, changes every time. The first time Keith was sure it was fear. Then surprise. Then pain, then exhaustion, then blank nothingness. 

Then, worst of all, accusation. The worst one of them all was the image in Keith’s brain of Lance’s dark brown eyes, sour in their pain, looking at Keith in some kind of betrayal. 

You can’t save me, those eyes said. I looked to you in my last moments and I was scared and I was hurt and I was vulnerable and I wanted to rely on you like you relied on me for months and months and months and you let me die. You killed me. I will never be alive again and it is because you failed me.

Keith has fallen in those spirals before. Lance likes to say that Keith is obsessed with making himself feel guilty before anyone else has the chance to. He’s right, of course. Lance is bossy and sarcastic and incendiary, but he’s right, a lot.

“Children,” Coran says, quiet and sad and wary. “The pods are –” he stops for a minute, choked. “The pods are not machines of miracle.”

“Don’t,” Pidge begs. There are tear tracks dried on her cheeks. “Please. He just needs a couple more hours.”

Coran slumps forward. Keith has never seen him slump, before. He’s always stood tall, heels clicked together. He has stood tall in front of Galran fleets that stretched farther than the eye could see. He has stood tall as the team failed again and again. He has stood tall as his entire planet burned to ashes and he was one of two people to be left to rise among them. 

But now he loses his strength. Standing in front of Lance’s dead fucking body and the dead fucking team he loses his strength. 

“He’s gone,” Keith chokes out, and he can’t hold himself up anymore. His knees buckle and hit the ground, hard, and it hurts but he can barely feel it. 

No one says anything else. No one has to. They stand in front of Lance’s corpse until none of them can anymore, and then they turn, one by one, and go to bed.

– – –

next chapter

#AGAIN LANCE IS NOT DEAD #i promise hes alive and well again in the next chapter okay #i swear it #i just needed to write some heavy grief first #vld #voltron #keith #keith kogane #lance #lance mcclain #klance #pre klance #team as family #grief #langst #keith angst #time loop au #brown-eyed lance #black paladin keith #red paladin lance #hunk & lance #symbolism #my writing #fic #longpost #autistic lance #autistic lance mcclain

[the-iceni-bitch]

You’ll Never Go Down to the Gods Again

Part VIII/X

Pairing: soft!dark (but mostly soft) Alpha!Ransom Drysdale x naive!stepsister Omega reader

Words: ~3.2k

Summary: Ransom should have taken you and run as soon as he admitted his feelings. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever forgive himself.

Chapter Warnings: A/B/O, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, explicit language, sexual assault, attempted forced bonding, forced unknotting, Alpha fight, talk of medicine and hospitals

A/N: Listen, this is such a dark chapter, you guys. I do feel absolutely horrible about everything I’m going to put these two through over the last chapters, so please don’t hate me. And listen to the warnings!! This could be extremely upsetting, but I have put all relevant warnings up front, in spite of the fact they spoil a lot of the chapter, so be mindful.

I am no longer doing taglists so if you want to stay up to date on all the latest filth, follow my sideblog @the-iceni-library and turn on notifications!

“You are so royally fucked.” Curtis shook his head and watched Ransom bury his face in his hands, leaning back in his chair and sucking on his teeth as he thought things over. “Why didn’t you just take her and run?”

“She wants the goddamn ceremony.” Ransom gulped down his coffee and took another shaky breath as he fought the urge to let himself collapse against the table. “And I can’t tell her why it won’t happen. I keep trying but then she looks at me like I’m her whole world and I can’t do it. I thought I had more time.”

“It’s been four weeks, you knew your parents were coming back from DC today, man.” Curtis breathed deeply when the man just gave him a wretched groan. “I don’t know what you want from me, Drysdale. I could’ve gotten the both of you out with time to spare if you hadn’t dragged your feet, but I feel like your best bet is gonna be your grandfather.”

“I can’t talk to Harlan about this.” Ransom frowned as he ran his fingers over the lip of his cup. “He might not kill me, but he has his own fucking strings attached to his help, and I don’t know if that’s any better.”

“Well, you’ll have to do something. I do not envy the next few weeks of your life.” Curtis snorted and flagged down the waitress for some refills. “Can’t believe you fell for your fucking toy.”

“I couldn’t help it.” Ransom downed his fresh coffee and winced when it burned his throat. “You met her, you know what she’s like.”

“Yeah yeah, addictive.” Curtis rolled his eyes as he considered how weak his friend was. “Speaking of which, Lance is still on his fucking bender, so you’ve gotta worry about him trying to kick your ass on top of everything else.”

“That fucking bastard.” Ransom snarled when he thought about how ugly the man’s attitude had turned, wanting to spit at the memory of all the texts he’d gotten from him that detailed how he was going to split your cunt in half before Ransom finally blocked his ass. “Don’t know what the fuck is wrong with him.”

“He doesn’t like feeling left out. Especially when it comes to Omega pussy. You know this.” Curtis sipped on his coffee and leaned back in his chair. “Man can’t stand to hear the word ‘no’.”

You smiled warmly when you heard the elevator coming up to the apartment, smoothing your skirt over your hips and bouncing a little on your toes as you looked forward to seeing Ransom again. Your mate, you couldn’t stop thinking about him and missed him terribly whenever he wasn’t home. Hopefully he would like all the ideas you had for your bonding ceremony, you’d been looking at magazines all morning.

“Hi Ran… oh.” Your smile fell slightly when it wasn’t Ransom who stepped off the elevator, tilting your head at his friend Lance and trying to remain friendly when he gave you a strange look. “Hello Alpha Tucker. Ransom isn’t here.”

“Oh shoot, I was hoping to pick up something he borrowed from me.” Lance licked his lips when you just hummed pleasantly and ducked your head in a shy way, prowling closer to you and breathing in your scent deeply as he clenched his fists at his side. “You’re all by yourself, sweetheart?”

“Mmhm, but he’ll be home soon.” You kept your eyes down when you slid away from him towards the kitchen, feeling his gaze on you and trying not to act too uncomfortable about it. “Do you want some water while you wait?”

“No, thank you.” He was too close to you, you could feel your hackles going up when he scented your hair unexpectedly. “I want what your asshole brother has been teasing me with for months without letting me have a taste.”

“I don’t understand what you mean, he’s not my brother.” You managed to twist away from him again, your eyes starting to sting with unshed tears when he growled at you. “I-I think you should leave, please.”

“You let your brother fuck you, but you cringe when I barely even touch you.” Lance snarled when you recoiled as he tried to grab your wrist. “He owes me, I want to feel that sweet little Omega cunt, and I don’t think you can stop me.”

“P-please don’t talk to me like that.” You choked on a whimper when he just gave you a mocking pout. “Ransom and I are going to be bonded, this isn’t appropriate.”

“Oh, no shit?” Lance laughed when you nodded, tossing his head back then startling you when he lunged in your direction. “That just makes this even better, come here.”

This time you ran away from him, tears streaming down your cheeks as you heard him charging after you and tried to figure out what to do. You couldn’t understand why one of Ransom’s friends would be acting like this, a bond was sacred, that was why they had all helped prepare you for it. He should be happy for you and Ransom and respectful of the promise you’d made to each other, there must be something wrong with him.

You saw your phone and snatched it up as quickly as you could, yelping when Lance almost grabbed you before dodging away from him and sobbing as you tried to dial. All you wanted was your mate, your Alpha, you could feel yourself panicking as Lance kept getting closer and closer to catching you and you were worried you were going to pass out from the fear.

“Hold on, she’s calling me.” Ransom couldn’t stop from smiling slightly when your name came up on his screen. “Hi bunny, what’s going on?”

“Ransom-“ you screamed when Lance finally caught you and threw you to the floor, weeping when he grabbed you by your hair and slapped you across the face when you tried to crawl away. “Please…”

“That’s right you fucking beg me, you little bitch.” Ransom was already on edge but as soon as he heard Lance’s voice he rose to his feet with a snarl, tossing the chair out of his way and storming towards the parking lot while Curtis just gave him a worried look. “You manage to call your brother? That you, Drysdale?”

“Tucker, what the fuck are you doing?” Ransom felt like he was going to snap his phone in half, shaking violently and giving Curtis a ragged look when he caught up to him. “If you fucking touch her…”

“Little late for that, bud. Hold still, slut.” Ransom heard another smack and winced when you sobbed. “You could’ve let me have her months ago, but you had to be a bastard. So I hope you enjoy listening to me break this bitch before I bond her, since you were too stupid to do it yourself. Scream for me.”

You shrieked when he ripped your skirt up around your hips and tore off your panties, sobbing desperately as you tried to close your legs and failed when he knelt between them and grabbed your thighs in a bruising grip. Lance grinned wickedly when you started crying even harder as he spat on your cunt, screwing your eyes closed and turning away from him when he turned the phone on speaker and dropped it next to your head before he pulled out his cock.

“No, you fucking look at me.” Lance chuckled when you did as he commanded, curling over you and licking the tears from your cheeks while you kept whimpering uselessly. “Make sure you’re nice and loud so your ‘Alpha’ can hear you.”

He groaned when he pushed inside you and you wailed, grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head while he glared at you and started to fuck you violently. You hated that your body was reacting to him, and that you couldn’t break his gaze while he pounded into you and made you cry even harder as you felt your stomach growing tight.

“Bunny… bunny, I’m sorry.” Ransom shot an absolutely venomous look at Curtis when he told him to hang up the phone so he didn’t have to listen to what Lance was doing, choking on the ugly mess of emotions that were rising in his chest. “I’m not leaving her. That asshole better hope Diskant and the cops get there first, because I’m going to fucking kill him if it’s me. You hear me Tucker? Bunny, just hold on, please.”

“Oh, she’s holding on great, this cunt has the tightest fucking grip I’ve ever felt, shit.” Lance chuckled when you whimpered at him grinding against your clit, slapping you when you wouldn’t let him pry your jaw open then spitting on your cheek when he was able to shove his fingers into your mouth. “You hear how fucking sloppy she is? Can almost understand why you didn’t want to share her. Think she’s gonna come already, what a fucking whore.”

You tried to fight it, but you couldn’t, your body arching while your fists clenched and your toes curled as unwanted pleasure washed over you. As soon as your vision returned to normal you began to break down, shaking and weeping uncontrollably when his face filled your vision and he kept pummeling your sensitive cunt like he hated you. The sound of Ransom’s voice over the phone was barely helping, making you cry more as you longed for him to hold you and tell you this had never happened.

“You know he tricked you? You fucking idiot.” Lance snarled when you whimpered Ransom’s name as the asshole apologized again like a moron. “Just wanted to see how much he could fuck with you and ruin your parents’ plans. No one wants a ‘prepped’ Omega, they want fucking virgins. He didn’t give a fuck about you.”

“Y-you’re lying.” You were bawling at this point, Ransom switching between trying to comfort you and screaming about how he was going to kill Lance as you felt your body betraying you again while his knot started to swell. “Ransom loves me.”

“I do, I love you bunny, don’t fucking listen to him.” Ransom snarled when Curtis practically jumped the curb as he pulled in front of the apartment building, ripping the door open and sprinting inside even as he heard the sound of sirens getting closer.

“Oh, sounds like big brother is home, and perfect timing, fuuuuck.” Lance bellowed when his knot locked him inside you, pumping you full of his cum with erratic jerks of his hips while you gushed slick all over him. “Look at this, so swollen and pretty, gonna look so good with my mark.”

“No, please.” You couldn’t take it when he brushed the tip of his finger over your mating gland, shuddering when he leaned down to smell your neck and gazing towards the elevator when you heard it moving. “Just stop.”

“Pathetic, just like your brother you love to fuck so much.” Lance grinned when you wailed and started struggling again at the feeling of his teeth scraped over your gland. “Can’t wait to see his fucking face when I bond you right in front of him.”

The elevator doors opened and you broke again when Ransom stepped off and saw you still locked with Lance, screaming and trying to push him off when you felt his teeth starting to pierce your skin. You barely had time to register the vicious roar that tore through the air in the apartment before Lance was suddenly ripped away from you, the blinding pain of having his knot forcibly wrenched out of your cunt making you howl as your vision went white and you curled your body in on itself.

Ransom hardly even heard your cry when he wrapped his hand around Lance’s neck and started slamming his fist into his face, snarling and throwing the man into one of the brick columns so hard the whole building seemed to shake. He only had a moment to see Curtis scooping you off the ground and cradling you against his chest before Lance charged him, the bastard landing a solid hit to his jaw and and almost tearing his elbow out of the socket before Ransom wrapped his arm around his middle and slammed him into the floor.

You were still weeping and shivering as you held onto Curtis desperately, begging for your Alpha even as you watched him beat Lance through the floor with both his fists like he really was going to kill him. The elevator door opened again and suddenly the apartment was full of strangers, a Beta and an Omega you didn’t know gently taking you from Curtis and wrapping you in a blanket while he joined one of the police officers in trying to pull Ransom off of your assailant. They weren’t making you feel any better, though, no matter what soothing sounds they made or when the Omega started to try to scent you, you wanted your mate. He was what you needed, Lance lied, he loved you, if he didn’t come to you soon you were going to start screaming and ripping your hair out.

“He’s down, he’s fucking cuffed Drysdale, holy shit.” Paul and Curtis had to both hold Ransom back once they managed to pry him away from Lance, the two of them watching him warily while he kept glaring at Lance’s bruised and bloodied form while the cops dragged him away. “Calm down, shit, come over here:”

The Beta who was helping you managed to flag Paul and he pulled Ransom over to you, both he and Curtis relaxing once the man set eyes on you and his face softened as he fell to his knees in front of you and sobbed. They let him pull you into his arms when you mewled for him, allowing him to start scenting you obsessively as you wept in his arms and he crooned to try to soothe you.

Ransom hated how you looked, hated the bruises on your face and how you winced when you tried to move the leg Lance had dragged you down by and the handprint around your throat. He almost lost it again when he noticed the blood that was smeared on your thighs, rumbling into your neck instead even though the thought of that asshole’s knot ripping you apart made him want to go and finish what he’d started. His chest was aching from how wretched he felt at you being in pain, growling when he saw the Beta from the critical response team reaching for you and wrapping you tighter in his arms.

“They have to take her to the hospital.” Paul stood well back from Ransom since he was still so keyed up, and trying to invade his space while he was comforting his injured mate didn’t seem like the best idea. “But you can go in the ambulance with her.”

“That’s not…” the Beta sighed when Diskant gave her a meaningful look, nodding and radioing the rest of the team to let them know the situation before standing up. “Come with us.”

You clung to Ransom as he carried you down to the ambulance, whimpering into his chest when there were even more Alpha police officers outside and you started to feel distressed again before he started scenting your hair. They could barely get you away from him to strap you onto the gurney, but he stayed with you and calmed you down and as soon as they started driving he was rubbing his face against the insides of your wrists and holding your hand and you felt less hysterical.

Reaching the hospital didn’t take as long as he wanted it to, the desire to keep scenting you and get rid of that fucker’s stink overwhelming even as they pulled into the ambulance bay. Your fingers were still wound tightly with his while they rolled you into the trauma ward and you were swarmed with doctors and nurses. They kept trying to pull you away from him and you cried every time, shivering and pulling him closer and not paying any attention to the frustrated sighs they kept letting out when you shook your head each time they asked him to leave.

“Sweetie, we have to take pictures of you.” The Beta doctor that had finally come in seemed to have the greatest measure of patience, giving you space after a nurse took your blood and letting you lean your head on Ransom’s chest while your sobbing started to calm down. “That could upset your Alpha, and he has injuries that need to be looked at. Would you be okay if one of us takes him into the next room so we can help both of you?”

“I don’t…” you saw the split skin on Ransom’s knuckles and the blood that was smeared across his face, reaching up to touch the bruise on his jaw and sniffling when he winced. “Just, you’ll be right next door?”

“Right next door, promise.” The doctor nodded at Ransom when he kissed your forehead before separating from you, letting one of the nurses lead him away before she stepped closer to you and took your hand gently. “And he’ll be back so soon.”

You just whimpered and sat up slowly, Ransom getting one last look at you shaking and letting the doctor look at your bruises before the door to the room swung shut. Ransom had trouble relaxing being apart from you, even though he knew they were helping you and that he would have probably gone into another frenzy if he had to see the full extent of your injuries. He kept thinking he heard you cry, though, and the fact that he would jolt every time he did was making the nurse who was working on cleaning his knuckles exasperated. Even though it only took maybe ten minutes it was too long, Ransom just grunting and storming back to your room while they tried to give him instructions about taking care of his wounds.

“She’s alright, we gave her a sedative.” The doctor tried to reassure Ransom when he immediately sat next to your bed and started nuzzling your cheek while you rested. “She should recover well physically, but I want to make sure she gets counseling. I’ll come back with some referrals and to go over some other things once everyone else is here.”

“Who the hell else is coming?” Ransom brushed your hair out of your face and pressed his lips to yours when you sighed deeply.

“We had to call her emergency contact, it’s procedure.” The doctor didn’t seem to notice the way Ransom tensed up, reviewing your chart as she started to back out of the room. “Her father should be here any minute.”

#natalie writes #you’ll never go down to the gods again #alpha ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale x y/n #ransom x you #ransom drysdale x female reader #ransom drysdale x reader #alpha lance tucker #dark!alpha lance tucker #lance tucker x you #tw sex assault #tw sa #chris evans #chris evans character #sebastian stan #sebastian stan character #a/b/o #dead dove do not eat

[sonics-left-shoe]

sorry I just binged a ton of your lansoni letters (you do write then right??) and holy crap that last one got me- I was wondering if the 'facing east' thing was a reference to arthur morgan's death from rdr2? idk if that's too niche but if it isn't then that's fking good writing 🙏

Oh my goodness lovely thank you so much but also I'm so sorry for how long this has probably sat in my inbox!!

Honestly? I wasn't sure if anyone would catch the reference but yes it is <3

#that game has an eternally special place in my heart now until forever #oh arthur morgan #I remember writing a few times about sonic and lance watching sunsets together and it's significance #and I tried to show that the sunrise being the last thing lance saw in a way that he's finally fulfilled his duties #he's done mourning living in that grief and his sacrifice is the last thing he wanted to give to protect the kingdom he still saw as sonic' #sunsets mark the end of a day #but sunrises mark the beginning of a new one #lancelot's death marks him moving on #the sun will always rise again #he pushed and gave all he had to keep the people of the kingdom safe - to keep sonic's legacy safe #he can finally rest #no longer weighed down by grief and loss #like a real legend no? #it isn't the end for him - just in that life it is #<3 #sonic the hedgehog #sonic #sonic and the black knight #satbk sir lancelot #lansoni #asks #rdr2 #arthur morgan #rdr2 spoilers #red dead redemption 2

[cheemken]

So if we were to continue from the Unova Kids Villain AU, where Iris tried to kill Diantha and the Kalos E4

Godd just, when Gardevoir teleports them away to someplace safe, Diantha is in shock till she just starts breaking down in front of the E4. Just crying and yelling at herself for being so stupid. How could she not see what was Iris’ real intentions. She put her E4 and herself in danger because she only cared about Iris and not others safety. Blaming herself for what happened, direction the anger and sadness and confusion to herself, even though it was Iris to blame for what happened

But, Diantha could never blame her daughter. She would never admit to herself Iris had full intentions to murder her. No matter what, she’s always going to love her daughter, despite Iris not returning that love

Ough imagine Drasna calms down Diantha and tells them they have to find someplace more secluded, before Iris and Kyurem finds them again and attacks, because Gardevoir most likely can’t teleport them all anymore since she’s already teleported four of them from Kalos to Unova

And idk what would happen next, like do they find the other champion? Encounter the other Unova Kids? Find someone from the Unova League and get their part of the story?

But I do know it’s gonna be even more crushing for Diantha when she eventually regroups with the Champions, Lance especially. Because she’s going to have to tell Lance that the person they took in as their daughter just tried to freeze her to death

Iris is just having the time of her life retelling the story to the rest of the Unova kids. Laughing about the whole ordeal. You wanna know what fucked me up though? I imagined when Iris was telling the story, she was exaggerating the story like it was nothing. Like how teenagers do to make themselves seem cooler in front of their friends. Like they were all at the League just laughing around, hangout out with each other like teenagers

But they are teenagers. All of them (expect N whos probably 20 by now) are teenagers and they’re the ones who causes all the damage in Unova

(I honestly forgot if they’re young adults in this AU but still, they’re not even mid 20’s and they’re doing mass murder)

Your honour I'm—

CAN YOU FUCKING IMAGINE THO CNDNXNNDND OUGHHH

Like,,, when Diantha finds the other Champions again, and like they're surprised that the Kalos E4 were there too, but Lance just chndbd Lance rushes to Diantha, and Dia just fucking breaks man. Fucking imagine her like legitimately breaking the fuck down, clutching Lance's cape as if it were her lifeline, hands trembling as her knuckles turn white, imagine her crying her heart out even as Lance tries to comfort her. Like can you imagine how that would be for the other champs bc Diantha is usually so calm and composed and the epitome of elegance and now she's hunched over crying, trying to form words through her tears as she clutches Lance's cape, sobbing on his chest, going on about Iris, Kyurem, and how Diantha's blaming herself for being so goddamn stupid. Like imagine what it's like for them and the Kalos E4, imagine if that's legitimately the first time almost all of them saw Diantha actually cry

And ofc, maybe the other champs and even Lance thought Iris was dead, Unova's like a frozen wasteland now, but imagine their surprise and their fear when Diantha and even the Kalos E4 told the Champions how Iris almost killed them. Like imagine the other champs not believing that at first, how could Iris, their sweet Iris, their little sister, kill someone?? That's.. that's not right. But with how Diantha is still trembling like a leaf, how even Malva and Siebold were looking to the side looking troubled, and how Wikstrom and Drasna were so worried about Diantha, well.. maybe it's true. And now they fear what's gonna happen next, they fear that if Iris was willing to kill Diantha, someone who was like a mother figure to her, then imagine how willing she would be killing the other Champions

And then w Iris chdmdb ough that mental image is dope your honour holy shit😭😭

Like them at a meeting hall or smth, Iris at the head of the table, telling her friends about her encounter with Diantha, and ofc the lil shit is gonna try to impress them, especially since her lil crush is around too, ofc she's gonna tell them how Diantha was begging for mercy, how weak the Kalos champ truly was, that even w Mega Gardevoir, she lost to Iris and Haxorus. Even better that Diantha called in the Kalos E4, ofc Iris is also gonna tell them how they were weak as well, that they never stood a chance against her, "shows, really, I'm that powerful," she boasted, leaning on the table, "and the people of Unova thinks I'm weak."

And ofc everyone else was impressed y'know, even going on how they'd want to see just how pathetic Diantha and her league were, and then they hear word that the other Champions are around, and of fucking course they want to see if they're also that weak, especially now since Iris was going on if Diantha lost to her, then she's sure as hell the other Champions are gonna lose to them. They'll make all the Champions see just how powerful they are, and the dragons will help them in doing so.

#your honour cbndbd #iris really just disregarding her family like that huh #fucking imagine if she attacks them the same was she did w drayden bcmdndnd #ough your honour thats so fucked up😭 #do it again— hahaha #imagine dia not being able to really fight back tho bc she really doesnt wanna hurt her daughter😭😭 #even lance was reluctant at the thought of having to fight iris bc thats his kid man he doesnt wanna hurt his kid fbdndn #but at the same time their daughter is the reason a lot of the unovan people are dead #that unova became a frozen wasteland #and god theyre just so conflicted your honour cbdnnd #villain unova kids au #pokemon champions #unova kids #an ask and an answer #jerseyk112

[siixkiing]

...when will my MSA muses return from war?

#Loss of Powers | {OOC} #The Scrolls | Mun Menu {Post} #My mistake was listening to Ghost by Mystery Skulls again =w=;;; #I miss writing for my muses; Mr.D/Spectrum!Lewis/Uncle Lance/Mr. and Mrs. Pepper/Kia UGH #But the muses for them are kind of dead right now =w=;;; #If you do have any interest; their blogs are as followes #Spectrum!Lewis is spectrum-skulls #Uncle Lance + OCs is lanceolot #Mr.D is haz-the-d #Mr. and Mrs. Pepper are peppersofparadiso #I think I am missing some BUT those are my MSA accounts; I just...they might be really dead right now #My muse for them haven't been very high lately

[honeyflower-bellybower]

hc that at the beginning of s4 when Keith is distancing Voltron by always going on missions with the Blade to leave Shiro his place as Black Paladin and Allura seems to be the only one noticing, the others actually do too (it's simply not believable that they wouldn't), they just understand him better. While she's only worried for Voltron and the mission, they're worried for him. He didn't want to be Black Paladin in the first place and fought for his place in the Blade. They might miss him as a Paladin, but also they don't want to pressure him into it. Allura just doesn't care, like always.

#have i mentioned i don't like her? #yes i'm being bitter to a dead person #so what #call me out #voltron #vld #also am I allowed to think this is also because of lance? #lance told keith with shiro back he should drop out #to leave him Red again #and to put out that problem Keith is stepping out instead #as to not let him doubt himself

[vivwritesfics]

Padawan Learner

Mrs Vettel, ex Williams driver, current McLaren driver, can't drive while pregnant. Although she's contracted until 2026, she can't drive while she's with child. But she can't stay away from racing, and can't help but take the Williams rookie under her wing.

Sebastian Vettel x Reader, (Platonic) Logan Sargeant x Reader

Warnings: Brief description of smut

She wasn't supposed to retire at the same time as her husband. He felt as if he was at the end of his career and there was nothing more he could offer to the sport, so he retired. He'd had his glory years in Red Bull, moved to Ferrari, every racers dream, and ended things in Aston Martin, alongside his wife's old teammate.

She still had more race left in her. She'd been with Williams for years, racing alongside Valteri Bottas, Lance Stroll, George Russell, and, later, Alex Albon. But then she moved to McLaren, a team she felt would help her fight for wins.

Her husband very thoroughly celebrated the beginning of his retirement. She found herself stuffed full of cum almost every day of winter break.

It shouldn't have been a surprise when they got pregnant. But she wanted to murder Sebastian. For all of five seconds she wanted to drown him in their pool. But, after that five seconds passed, she was overjoyed, wrapping her arms around Sebastians neck and pulling him in for a kiss.

She told McLaren and they pulled Oscar Piastri in for the year. That was how he got his first drive in F1. All because Sebastian Vettel was incredibly horny, but he didn't need to know this.

She might not have been able to drive, but she still wanted to be trackside whenever she could. Her old team gave her this opportunity. She didn't hang around the McLaren garage, as she had half expected.

No, it was Williams and the new team Principle, James Vowles, who gave her somewhere to be during the season. Even in preseason testing, she was there, watching the Williams.

It was great to be in the garage with Lily again. She'd always liked Lily, thought she was great for Alex when they first met. After her move to McLaren she rarely got to see Lily, and as much as she hated sitting in the garage, it was nice to be sat in the garage with her.

Alex was a great driver. Any advice a veteran like her could have offered him, he already knew.

But then there was his teammate.

She watched Logan from his very first race weekend. She had known about the rookie for a couple of years now and had watched him succeed in Formula Two.

But now, in the Williams tractor, he was struggling. Week after week after week he was finishing outside of the points, or he wasn't finishing at all. She really felt for him.

"Hey," she said after the Hungarian Grand Prix.

Logan hadn't spoken to anybody since he got out of the car and did all that he needed to do. Clearly he was struggling. He didn't say anything, just looked up.

She stood beside him. At her stage of pregnancy she could have gotten down to the floor to sit with him, but she wouldn't have been able to get up without help. Her hand rested on her bump as she looked down at him.

"I still remember my first season in Formula One," she said as she looked at the retired car. "It was 2013 and Seb was set to win the championship. I was in my first year in Williams and I think I only finished maybe ten races," she said with a laugh.

"Wait, seriously?" Asked Logan as he looked up.

She nodded her head. "I crashed out of most, or the car fell apart on me. Most people wondered why I had a seat for the next year, but Williams saw potential in me. I know they see it in you, too."

Every time Logan didn't finish a race, every time he came dead last, she was there. Nobody could comfort her like she did. Sometimes Seb joked that they might as well adopt him, and Logan agreed. Most up and down paddock called Logan her padawan learner, which was very fitting.

Logan began being the person she spent the most time with when Sebastian wasn't there. He'd looked up to her for many years and having her support meant the world to him. He was there for her too, making sure she had somewhere to sit and something to drink whenever she needed it.

In September, a month before her due date, Sebastian begged her to stop travelling. Just in case he wanted her home with him, where he could take care of her. They still watched every race together and she made sure to send Logan a good luck text before every practice session, qualifying, and race.

When Logan got his first points, nobody celebrated more than Sebastian Vettels wife. She was so proud of him, even if those points were because of two disqualifications. She posted a picture of him and her from a previous race on Instagram like a proud mum. Funnily enough, Logan comments 'thanks mom' on the post.

Just two weeks after this, her water broke. Sebastian got her to the hospital. He stayed by her side, holding her hand through the hours of excruciating labour.

Leon Vettel didn't cry when he was born. He was so quiet, that it actually scared his mother. But the doctors and nurses assured the new parents that he was perfectly healthy.

He was their perfect little man.

She insisted on asking Logan to be Leons godfather. They had grown so close over the last few months that it seemed fitting.

Logan accepted. As soon as the Vettels could, they were taking Leon to races. Or, Sebastian took Leon to races, to watch his mother race. Of course he was wearing a Williams hat and McLaren shirt.

"Papa," Leon said at four years old after watching the Australian Grand Prix qualifying session.

"What is it, my little man?" Asked Sebastian as he sat Leon on his lap.

"I wanna be like mama and Uncle Logan," he said, and Sebastian couldn't stop himself from grinning.

#sebastian vettel #sebastian vettel imagine #sebastian vettel x reader #sebastian vettel fluff #sebastian vettel smut #sebastian vettel x you #sebastian vettel x reader smut #f1 #formula one #f1 imagine #formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula one x reader #formula one imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #logan sargeant #logan sargeant imagine #logan sargeant x reader #sv5 imagine #sv5 x reader #sv5

[bet-on-me-13]

Stranded Danny AU

Danny gets pulled into a faraway Dimension by a Villain one day, just after the events of Phantom Planet. He is barely 15.

He has no way to get back, but he does manage to unlock the power to make Portals. Unfortunately, none of the dimensions he ends up in are his own, and none have enough Ectoplasm to open portals for very long. It takes up to a week to scrounge up enough Ecto to open a single Portal into the next dimension over.

And none of these worlds have Technology strong enough to take him home either. The few times he did find some tech that could potentially get him home, it never worked or it was destroyed before he could finish it.

He spends well over 30 years of his own Personal Timeline trying to get back to his home dimension, constantly gathering scraps of Ectoplasm and Tech until the day he eventually collected enough to build a safe way home.

But time does not pass the same across dimensions.

What to him was a 30 year long Journey, was actually just 10 for his home Dimension.

And they had to move on without him.

Sam became a Business Woman who used her money to fund Nature Preservation Organizations. She hired Pamela Isley and helped her through her powers when she became Poison Ivy (still a Villain, but secretly working for Sam)

Tucker got a high ranking job at Star Labs, and helped Cyborg come to terms with his new life when he became a cyborg. He even helped upgrade his tech a few times.

Jazz became a successful Psychiatrist, and now works under Daina Lance as one of the Justice League's top Therapists, specifically their Child Psychologist for young Heroes

Ellie took his place as a Hero and became the new protector of Amity after he dissappear. After the Justice League was formed, she joined them and became one of their best members, always working and nor really taking many breaks.

They always wondered what happened to Danny, and spent many years trying to figure out what happened to him, but never succeeded. They finally began to assume that he was fully dead after a few years of searching. They had enough time to come to terms with it.

...

So one night, while a 22 yr old Ellie is resting on one of her rare days off, she gets called in by the League about a possible Dimensional Breach near her Home Town. JLD was deployed to investigate, and she was asked to tag along since she was the Resident Hero of the area.

But she refuses, thinking it's just some random ghost trying to enter the Living Realm illegally after she began regulating the Portal. JLD would be able to handle it on their own, let her sleep on her day off!

Meanwhile, JLD has located the spot where the Dimensional Breach is about to appear. They surround the Area, and prepare to interrogate whoever is about to appear, or deal with them if need be.

Space begins to tear apart as the fabric of Reality breaks apart at the seams. And from that wound in existence, an Adult Danny steps out. He is 44 years old, and looks like a less buff version of Dan without the mustache (basically imagine Danny as Ford Pines from Gravity Falls)

The JLD can sense that he is strong, but not too much so. It feels like he is powerful, but like that power has been starved for a while.

"Who are you?" Asks Wonderwoman, ready to jump into battle if needed. "What are your intentions in this World?"

Danny ignores them. He is staring into the Night Sky, eyes wide. The Constellations he hadn't seen in 30 years were there. The stars were in the right locations. He takes a deep breath, tasting the amount of Ectoplasm in thr Air. This is it. He's home. He's finally home.

"Finally" He says breathlessly. A slightly manic Grin on his face.

"What the hell does that mean?" Demands Constantine. The grin had unsettled him, and he began preparing a few spells just to be sure.

Danny ignored him again, this time deciding to close his eyes and finally eat his fill of Ectoplasm for the first time in 30 years. He was ravenous, this was the first decent Meal of Ectoplasm he had been able to have in 30 years. He was giddy, he was so happy to finally be home.

However the Heroes didn't know what was happening. All they knew was that some guy had ripped a hole in reality, said "finally" with a crazy grin on his face, and started emitting a dangerous amount of Death Energy for no apparent reason.

Constantine reacts on impulse, trying to cast a Banishing Spell on this guy.

Danny, feeling the spell begin to pull him away from his home after he had just found it again after Thirty. Fucking. Years. Does something that he would consider reasonable.

He quickly dashes over to Constantine and slams him through a tree.

This sparks a fight between Danny and the JLD. And at first he is having some serious trouble, but as he continues to feed on Ectoplasm and recover his strength, he becomes progressively more Powerful. It comes to the point where the JLD can't keep up anymore, and call in Backup.

Ellie was enjoying her night off, but the desperate Call from JLD about a powerful Entity at the edge of Amity finally got her going.

She rushes over and slams into Danny just as he is about to attack Constantine again. Neither of them recognize eachother, since they have changed since they were kids (Danny moreso) and continue to Duke it out.

Ellie is trying to banter with him, but Danny is really angry at this point. So he resorts to his final attack, his Ghostly Wail.

He levels a good chuck of the Forest, and in the end he is standing over Ellie as his anger fades. He says "Sorry" and he starts taking a look around him to see if there is anybody else.

Ellie is on the ground, shaken because she recognized that power.

She gets up, and asks "Danny?"

Danny finally gets a good look at her and says, and says "Ellie?"

Meanwhile JLD still has ringing in their ears and thinks that Ellie just called Danny "Daddy"

(Which makes sense because of the new age difference)

#Dp x dc #Dpxdc #Danny phantom #Dc #Dcu #ellie phantom #Danielle Phantom #Planes walker Danny #Danny is stranded on the other side of the Multiverse #He can't open a Portal to the Infinite Realms #Danny has not had a decent amount of Ectoplasm in 20 years #Aged up Characters #Angst #Justice League Dark #The Justice League #Dimension Travel #Danny traverses the multitude like Ford Pines

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-down AU Part 20

Part 1 Part 19

Steve’s shirt is wet where Eddie’s face is pushed into it, and Will’s hand is clutching his arm tight enough to hurt. Steve wants to sink into it. But the door's still open, and Wayne’s shotgun is lost in the woods somewhere. He hopes the man won't be too mad.

"Okay, okay," Steve says, taking two shuffling steps forward. "Let go of me."

The arms encircling his waist drop him instantly. His own weight settles back into his heels at the same instant the vertigo hits. A small hand clutches his elbow, keeping him upright with a grunt of strain.

"Shit, Harrington, sorry," Eddie says, voice warbling. "What do you need? What do I do?"

"Just–" he closes his eyes, listing sideways. He's so tired. "The door, Eddie."

The door closes with a quiet creak, lock sliding home with a metallic snick!

It's a tissue paper door, Steve knows it's a tissue paper door, but his legs go out anyway, finally safe enough to drop. Eddie catches him, hands clutching hips as he practically drags him to the couch.

"You're okay," Eddie says. "You're okay, right?"

Steve nods. His forehead lances with pain every time he grimaces, and his cheek throbs. The wound on his shoulder has definitely reopened, and something unpleasant had happened to his ribs when he'd fallen in the woods. But he’s fine.

Will interrupts the conversation by dumping the remains of the Munson's medicine cabinet on the coffee table.

"You're bleeding," he says.

"Shit, right," Eddie replies, rifling through the contents. It's slim pickings, but Eddie plucks up a few bandages and gets to work.

His mouth is a moue of concentration as he combs Steve's hair off his forehead and puts bandages across the entirety of the laceration before blessedly leaving it alone once he reaches the hairline.

Eddie's prodding the bruise on Steve's cheek hard enough to feel the bone, when Will asks, "My Mom?"

"She's fine, Byers." He tries to smile, but loses the will halfway through, closing his eyes.

Will bursts into tears. "Thank you," he says.

Steve flops his hand forward. Will takes it. Steve doesn’t realize how cold his fingers are until Will’s warmth starts leeching into him.

"Your Mom's a badass, baby Byers," Eddie says. "She was always going to be fine."

Steve hums his agreement, too tired to vocalize. There, sitting up on Eddie's ratty couch, covered in dirt and blood, Steve falls asleep with Eddie's palm cupping his cheek and Will’s hand in his.

He's not sure how long he sleeps, but when he awakens, Eddie's sitting with his back to the couch. His hair's plastered to his head with grease and grime, and he's starting to smell a little. Steve wants to cry at the sight of him.

"Eddie?" he asks.

Eddie turns to him, a finger to his lips as he gestures his head toward where Will's sleeping in the recliner across the room.

"Back with me, big boy?" Eddie whispers.

Steve nods. "Did you guys make it out okay?"

Eddie scoffs. "We were fine, man." His eyes well, a few tears running down his cheeks. He swipes them away impatiently. "We thought you were dead."

Steve feels small, his voice comes out even smaller. "I'm sorry."

Eddie turns back around, back pressing into the couch, eyes trained on the door. Steve reaches his fingers out, rubbing back and forth slowly, consolingly. "Thanks for coming back."

Steve's breath hitches. It wasn't a sure thing. The line between Steve coming back and Eddie finding Steve's body decomposing in the Byers' driveway was razor thin. He should know - it's painted along his forehead in claw marks, painted in the way his vision is still a little red with the blood that had dripped into his eyes.

"Anytime," Steve says. Does it count as a lie when he really wants to mean it?

"Good, because we're like, out of water, dude," Eddie laughs. "The kid's the only one smart enough not to forget his backpack.”

"Fuck!" Steve says, a little too loudly. Will stirs, then settles. "Not the quarry again."

Eddie laughs, but not like he thinks it’s funny. “Yeah, man. I’m with ya, but there’s the kid to think about now.”

They both look over at Will. His face is smushed into the back of the chair, knees curled up to his chest beneath the blanket Eddie must’ve given him, like even in sleep, he’s doing everything he can to make himself a smaller target. Something unfamiliar in Steve’s gut wrenches.

He doesn’t want to go back there, maybe ever, but especially not right now. Right now, the thought of crossing the threshold out into the wider world makes ants crawl under his skin.

The Demogorgon’s claws are still parting his skin like butter every time he moves wrong. They’d moved through him as easily as Steve’s Father’s knife had while he’d skinned the deer, Steve standing beside him as he tries his best not to cry.

Steve doesn’t want to be the deer. But the shotgun is gone, and so the hunter must become the hunted.

“I lost the gun,” Steve says.

Eddie’s shoulder slump, Steve’s hand falls, settling in the crack between the couch and the middle of his back, stuck there when Eddie leans back into it. “I figured,” he sighs, sounding disappointed, like maybe there’d still been a glimmer of hope that Steve had just snuffed out.

Silence descends. It feels like the force of gravity kicked up a notch, the way the quiet fogs over him and pushes him down down down. The silence drowns, let’s the Demogorgon prowl through his mind. Eddie Munson throws him a brick disguised as a life preserver.

“I saw your shoulder,” he says, barely audible.

“Oh.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Eddie asks, turning around completely, back to the door. His eyes are wide. Steve can’t read his face at all.

“What’s there to do?”

Eddie sighs. “Nothing, maybe,” he says, spinning his rings on his fingers nervously. “I cleaned it up as best I could, but that’s bad, man. We’ve gotta get you out of here.”

Steve’s eyes flit over to where Will’s still sleeping, but Eddie’s eyes stay planted firmly on his face. He doesn’t answer, what’s there to say? There’s no way out of here.

“Let’s just get water so we can stay alive, just a little bit longer,” Eddie says when it becomes clear that Steve has nothing left to say.

Steve nods, asking, “should we bring the kid?”

Eddie opens his mouth to respond, but Will beats him to it. “I’m not a kid,” he says, clearly still half a sleep with the way his words are slurring together. “I’m coming.”

“He’s right,” Eddie says. “I mean, not about the kid thing, he’s definitely an infant, but we can’t leave him unprotected.”

“Hey,” Will mumbles, burrowing into the chair further and falling back asleep, clearly reassured that he won’t be left behind.

“We can’t keep him safe,” Steve whispers.

Eddie reaches out, pats his knee. Steve misses the warmth when he pulls it back.

“We’ll do what we can.”

Steve doesn’t want to go back out there. They’re safe in here, hidden away. But he will. Because Eddie asked, and Will needs him. That’s more than he’s had in a while.

He hopes it’s enough.

Part 21

#steddie upsidedown au #steddie fic #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #my fic

[kindredspiritsandgoodomens]

The Time Monster really is an iconic Classic Who serial -

Lots of people have to say "TOMTIT" repeatedly with straight faces

The Master announces himself by saying "I'm sorry about your coccyx too, Miss Grant"

The Doctor does backwards Twin Peaks Red Room speak

Mike gets charged by a guy with a lance, shot at with a canon and blown up by a V2 all in the space of five minutes

Sgt Benton (who is supposed to be on leave) I) manages to grasp a complex space time concept nobody else understands II) does not quite manage to eat a marmalade sandwich III) manages to get the jump on the Master twice IV) gets turned into a baby

There are some scientists of the week bickering about women's lib for no real reason

The Master cucks the King of Atlantis

The Brig gets so worried about Captain Yates he calls him Mike

The Doctor tells Jo about the time he was existentially depressed as a child and it's really sweet

Jo attempts to blow herself, the Master, and the Doctor up to save the universe because the Doctor can't bring himself to

When she wakes up she assumes she's I) dead II) 'in heaven or somewhere' and is fine with it - "groovy isn't it"

The Doctor insists on taking personal responsibility for The Master again over him facing external consequences and of course he escapes *sigh*

Kronos says gender is meaningless "But you're a girl" "Shapes mean nothing"

There's a minotaur

#don't understand people who say this serial is bad #doctor who #third doctor #classic who #the time monster #jo grant #mike yates #sergeant benton #the brigadier

[autisticlancemcclain]

this is how it started

———

This is how it continues: Keith holds his hand all the way to breakfast.

In itself not incriminating. Lance holds Hunk’s hand all the time. He’s always got an arm around Pidge’s shoulder. Shiro is amused by Lance’s incessant attempts to have them skip about with their arms linked. Sometimes he offers his arm to Allura with the poshest expression he can muster, just to make her laugh. Not all of his attempts are entertained by his friends, of course, but there’s nothing novel about Lance attaching himself to people as they move about.

Keith reaching out, as they walk out of the bedroom they just shared, and linking their hands together easy as pie is, however, novel.

Everything is so bizarre. It’s worsened, really, after a night of decent sleep (in a real genuine mattress!), because it’s just not what Keith and Lance…do. They race each other to doorways, yanking on hoods or sticking out legs to trip and get ahead. They escalate from light shoving to full on wrestling in the middle of conversations. Keith is not exempt from Lance’s constant need to touch, sure, but it’s never — like this. Light, easy, comfortable, familiar.

(It was, briefly, at the end. When on their way to meetings and briefings and missions even Keith’s hand would rest on the small of Lance’s back. Absentmindedly. Unnoticeable. But a he left a week after it started, and as far as he’s concerned anything started in that era has long since been left behind them.)

They’re late — the rest of the team has already gathered. Pidge and Allura are half asleep on either of Shiro’s shoulders, and Coran and Hunk are arguing intensely but playfully about a pile of unrecognisable goo that Lance has learned to recognise as the space version of oatmeal. Hunk pokes it in disgust. Coran feigns outrage.

All five faces turn to them as they approach, and Lance can’t place a single one of their expressions. He is made suddenly aware that he has loosened his grip on Keith’s hand when he feels him squeeze three times, quickly in succession.

“…Huh,” Shiro says after a moment, eyes trained on their clasped fingers. His face is carefully blank. No one else offers any commentary.

“How’d y’all sleep,” Keith asks, pulling out a chair. Lance realizes after a beat that it’s meant for him, and he flushes up to his ears. He tugs his hood over his head and nearly upends the table in his haste to melt into the offered chair. Keith, in contrast, sits down next to him and rests an arm over the back of Lance’s chair so smoothly it has to be practiced.

Pidge makes a choking noise, cheeks puffed up like she barely managed to keep her mouth shut. Hunk has both hands clapped over his mouth.

“Shut the fuck up,” Lance hisses, face redder than his lion.

Keith’s fingers brush his shoulder. He sinks further into his chair and tugs his hood down lower.

“I slept exceptionally,” Allura says loudly. The look she cuts Lance’s way is straight-up evil, and Lance knows what’s coming, and for several agonizing seconds he considers grabbing the spoon from the goo bowl and stabbing it straight through his eye. “The beds were very comfortable, didn’t you find, Keith?”

You are so dead to me, Lance thinks at her. He even thinks i’m in Altean so the fury can reach her properly.

“Yeah.” Keith leans over to press a kiss to his cheek. Lance’s face gets exponentially redder, and the peanut gallery starts screeching quietly, but despite himself he — leans. Into it. And Keith notices, because his mouth curves into a smile, and he presses another kiss to the curve of Lance’s jaw before pulling away. “Slept right for the first time in two years.”

“Oh, I’ve been meaning to ask you about that,” Shiro says, reminding Lance once again that he is, in fact, Lance’s hero, actually, last few months notwithstanding. He shoots Lance a fond, teasing smile, then turns back to Keith. “My question is: what the fuck?”

“Seconded,” Pidge agrees through a mouthful of goo.

Hunk grimaces at her. She shoves three more bites of goo into her mouth then opens her mouth and sticks out her tongue at the yellow paladin, just to be disgusting. With a scandalized “gross, Pidge!” Hunk shoves chair away and marches to the other side of the table, leaving Pidge sniggering.

Keith watches the whole thing with a smile on his face soaked in so much sadness Lance’s chest physically aches with it. He darts out a hand and wraps it around Keith’s, squeezing it in a mirror of the way he did before. Keith smiles gratefully at him, pulling up his hand and kissing the back of it. Somewhere, Lance hears someone mutter: “Christ alive.”

“There was a — shipwreck, of sorts,” Keith explains eventually. His voice is soft. “Krolia and I flew too close to something. Our intel was outdated. When we finally made it out of the wreckage we were stranded on the back of a space whale, and time was…stretchy.”

“That explains so very little,” Shiro says, shaking his head. He stabs his spoon in some goo. “Space has done little but piss me off in the last couple years, if I’m being honest. Keith, I swear to God I’m going to ground you.”

Keith grins. “Fat chance, old man. I outrank you now.”

“That’s what you think.”

Lance watches them both critically as they argue. Well, ‘argue’. They’re both grinning too hard for any real animosity. And exhaustion still lines Shiro’s features, and he still leans onto Allura for support, but there’s a brightness in his eyes that’s been missing for months. And Keith is —

Keith is here, leaping to his feet, spoon of goo bared dramatically, and he is tired too but he is warm and soft, somehow, and the weight that Lance has always watched on his shoulders seems to have lifted. There is an easiness to him now that there wasn’t before. And Lance notices and cannot stop noticing, because he is beautiful, and because for some reason he has decided to plant himself next to Lance, closer than before, and bleed his warmth. And Lance is supposed to be the lighthearted one and the joking one and the easy one. That is his role. That is what he knows how to play.

But he’s been struggling. And the role has not come easy. And last night he had cried until he slept in Keith’s arms and Keith had held him and checked the room and kissed his hair and has yet to let go of him.

Lance looks at Keith and thinks to himself: maybe just this one thing.

Keith reaches half over the table and musses his brother’s hair, pushing him back into Allura’s careful hold and sitting heavily back in his own seat. He frowns, staring at the space that has grown between his chair and Lance’s during his roughhousing. Slowly, he reaches over and grabs the bottom rung of Lance’s chair, dragging him over until the space between them has disappeared, then he nods once to himself, satisfied, and throws an arm around Lance’s shoulders, pulling him even closer.

And Lance thinks to himself: oh, God.

For a moment Lance is tense. He feels the stares of the rest of the team, teasing and interrogating all at once. He can already anticipate their questions, probably on par with his own.

Keith rests his cheek on top of Lance’s head.

“You good?”

Suddenly, none of that seems to matter. He thinks to himself: I need to sit him down and ask what the hell is going on.

Keith’s thumb starts to gently brush back and forth on the cusp of his shoulder.

He says: “I am now.”

This is how he lets it continue.

———

this is how it ends

#part 2/3!! #vld #voltron #lance #lance mcclain #keith #keith kogane #klance #pre klance #established klance #langst #team as family #but there is Tension #canon divergence #s7 fix it #soft keith #whipped keith #pining lance #autistic lance #brown eyes lance #not explicitly but know that it’s true #my writing #longpost

[jiveyuncle]

“But this…this is exactly why we are going to come up with something; a code or a phrase or something – so that if I am not here and you need me for whatever reason, you can message me that word and I will drop everything I’m doing so we can talk.” - Broken Things: Ch2 Code by ErithEl

Broken Things is one of my favorite fics ever, so here’s me professing my love for @erithel ’s work once again 😭💕🛐 (Scenes depicted are from Ch4 Weakness and Ch10 Yours)

Summary:

“I am going to kill you.” Lance was seeing red. His fingers wrapped so tightly around the blade in his hand, it felt like an extension of his own body.

“Not today, little lion.”

“If you fucking touch him I will –“

The Galra was suddenly leaning down – his yellow eyes only inches away from Lance’s. His words, a whisper in Lance’s ear: A threat; a promise. “Oh, I am not going to touch him. He is the half-breed son of the woman who murdered my sister. He is the leader of Voltron. No, I am not going to touch him…I am going to break him.”

Or: Two years after season 8, a Blade mission goes wrong, and Keith is perceived to be dead. Lance refuses to believe that, and goes in search of him. What he finds, however, is worse than anything he imagined.

You can read it here (mind the tags - there’s some heavy topics):

#klance #keith kogane #lance mcclain #voltron legendary defender #voltron #vld #fanart #fic rec #broken things by ErithEl

[sserpente]

The Weight of a Promise - Part II

Synopsis: One month has passed since you reluctantly became Lord Gortash's concubine. You ought to hate him--yet your heart seems to disagree.

A/N: When inspiration strikes…you gotta strike back! Took a bit longer than I expected but here we go! :D

You can read Part I here!

Words: 2523 Warnings: violence, blood, mentions of prostitution, concubine!Reader

“Good morning, dear. I take it you’ve had sweet dreams?”

You stirred, eyes flying open. You were warm, and comfortable. Cosy. Your head was resting on Gortash’s naked chest, his right arm pressing you close against his body. You had gotten so used to his presence and the intimacy between you that you didn’t even flinch away when his fingertips ghosted over your bare shoulder but instead…took relish in it.

“Morning…”

One whole month. You had been keeping an eye on the calendar on Gortash’s desk. You were surprised, to say the least. Part of you had suspected he would grow tired of you after a few days and move on to the next whore he’d be given for free. Perhaps one that would throw herself at him.

Alas, as much as you hated to admit it, you had begun to enjoy his company. Enver Gortash was as insufferable as he was megalomaniacal. But he was charming, too. No wonder the city gladly accepted him as its hero and saviour.

His mask was perfect. You very much doubted he truly did have a heart for the homeless and the poor though. Only yesterday had you overheard him talk about increasing the tax rates for small businesses for more profit to put into his Steel Watch. Now that you spent so much time with him, you would have believed his chivalry too had you not known the truth. A good man did not keep concubines, not like this. A good man did not have rumours spread about him worshipping one of the dead three.

And yet, despite everything, part of you was growing…grateful. He’d kept his promise. Thanks to him, you barely remembered what hunger was now. He had gotten you so many dresses you could never decide what to wear and every night, you shared his bed, warm and comfortable, nestled underneath his soft sheets.

The sex was phenomenal, of course. Just like the very first time he had claimed you, you would be lying if you insisted it wasn’t a pleasurable experience for you. Only it was empty, meaningless. Why else would he keep you around if not for a wet hole to fuck when he was overcome with lust?

The more time you were forced to spend with him, the more you realised that you wanted him to like you for more than your body. To know that you were more than an object for him to play with and entertain himself with and to convince yourself and your stupid feelings that he was not the villain you took him for. To soothe your own conscience.

It could be Stockholm Syndrome, you thought, chewing on your lower lip. But then again, he had told you that you were free to go the very day you arrived, made it seem like it had been your own choice to become a slave to his most carnal desires in exchange for your basic human needs to be met.

The mornings all started the same. You and Gortash had breakfast together, after that he tended to his archduke business and you remained in bed for a while longer, reading the books he owned. He’d call you over at some point, eager for your company—or your body.

As of right now, he was finished with his duties for the day. After a rich lunch, he’d insisted on taking a walk with you by the sea near Wyrm’s Rock to take his mind off things, a Steel Watcher always in close vicinity to protect him.

“You are not focusing at all, are you, dear? Could you at least put in a little bit of effort? Make it a challenge for me!”

You blinked. You’d been staring at the lance board for what must have been several minutes with your knees tucked and your chin resting between them. Gortash had insisted you played with him tonight. Only you had no idea how.

“I don’t know how to play,” you admitted.

Amusement flashed over Gortash’s handsome face. “You don’t know how to play lance board? Truly?”

You shook your head.

He took a deep breath. “Well, in that case…it is rather simple. There are six pieces in the game that—”

“Why did you increase the tax rates?” You couldn’t help it. The question left your lips before you could stop yourself. You were curious.

Gortash paused, momentary surprise marking his features. “And since when exactly, pray tell, do I discuss political matters with my concubine?”

“It’s just a question. I overheard you passing the bill.”

“You mean you were eavesdropping.”

You frowned. “You knew I was right there.”

“Ah, yes.” He chuckled. But then, nothing.

“So?”

“Protection is expensive, my dear. My Steel Watch requires constant maintenance. Maintenance that requires materials. Materials that cost money.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“Pardon me?”

“I’ve seen the documents. You have two vaults at the Counting House. Two vaults that are bulging with gold.” You’d caught a glimpse at the numbers, black ink on a fresh roll of parchment one morning while he’d made you keep his cock warm for him at his desk. You swallowed. “If you truly had the city’s best interest at heart you would be reaching into your own pockets to help out. That is true charity.”

Gortash raised an eyebrow. He appeared amused, if anything. “I am giving the citizens of Baldur’s Gate a purpose. By contributing in the form of taxes, they are contributing to keeping the city and themselves safe. And unlike my own fortunes, tax money is in constant circulation.”

You scoffed. “If that’s what you need to tell yourself.”

“I will not have you criticize my rule, my dear. Were you a lady or an adviser of mine, I could have your head for this without anyone batting an eyelash.”

Too far. You swallowed. So much for trying to convince yourself he was not a villain. “I apologise.”

“Good. Now, as I said. There are six types of pieces in the game. The first—”

Gortash was interrupted yet again. This time, however, by an airborne knife knocking the piece he pointed to straight to the ground where it shattered into a dozen pieces.

“Playing with your whore instead of working? You disappoint me, lordling.”

Gortash stiffened visibly. “Orin.”

Your eyes widened when you turned to face the unwanted visitor. She was as pale as the moon itself, with white creamy eyes piercing your soul. And her clothes…where they made of…skin? She staggered closer on bare feet, retrieving her dagger.

“You’ll find I have made much progress with our operation. But unlike you, I am a man of true entertainment. Uninterrupted murder is not up my alley.”

You blinked. Murder? What in the hells was he talking about?

“You are losing your focus, lordling. Do you need a reminder?”

Before you had processed what was happening, Orin grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled you flush against her. The smell of rotten meat and blood filled your nostrils, the blade of her dagger pressing into your skin. Her hands were ice-cold.

You gasped for air, paralysed. You willed your legs to kick her, your fingers to scratch her, your head to shatter her chin…but your body did not obey. Fear wrapped its icy claws around you, preventing you from taking action.

One wrong movement…and you would die. Your eyes found Gortash’s, yours pleading, begging. Surely, he would not let her harm you, surely, he would care if you lived after having shared the bed with him so many times…

“Now don’t be ridiculous, Orin. She’s my concubine. The only thing you will accomplish by killing her is making a mess of my office. I can always get a new one at the snap of my fingers.”

Your face fell, heart skipping several beats in a row. Not because of your fear now—but because it broke. Your lips parted. Was that truly how he felt after you’d spread your legs for him, listened to his sorrows, and kept him company? He’d promised to treat you well. Discarding you to the first bloodthirsty killer—whoever this Orin was—would break that promise after all.

“Well…then you won’t mind if I slit her throat? Bathe in her sweet blood and feast on her intestines? Would you still like to fuck her then, lordling?”

For just a second, you believed to catch a glimpse of actual panic glistening in his dark eyes. It was a fleeting moment, quickly replaced by a mask of steel.

“Orin, no, stop it!”

The woman laughed, the stench of stale blood almost making you gag as she pressed the blade even further against your delicate skin until you could feel a slight burn and something warm and sticky running down your throat.

“Orin!” You had not imagined it. There was panic swinging in his voice too now.

With a start, she removed her dagger from your throat and pushed you. You landed on your hands and knees on the hard stone floor, a pained cry escaping your lips due to the impact.

“With Ketheric Thorm dead, you should be on your guard, lordling. Because right now, your little plan is falling apart. And I am so very eager to spill blood in your chambers.”

“Control yourself, Orin. Ketheric’s death is a temporary setback. Once the Netherstone is back in our possession, we have nothing to fear and everything will go according to plan.”

You felt pathetic, cowering on the cold floor and listening to the conversation. You only understood half of what they were saying. Netherstones? What plan? And who was Ketheric Thorm?

“I will gut you if not, Gortash.” She disappeared in a mist of black and red as if her flesh erupted into a million pieces before evaporating.

Only now did you realise how heavily you were breathing. Gortash bent down, one of his hands resting on your shoulder.

“Are you alright?”

“No! No, I’m not alright!” you exclaimed, biting back a sob.

“You would have let her kill me!”

“I would not.”

“Yes! That’s what you said!” Another sob, one you were unable to hold back. You were trembling. You could feel a small trickle of blood running down your cleavage right between your breasts.

Gortash grabbed a hold of your chin, forcing you to look at him. “Showing her I care for you would have been showing her weakness and that I cannot afford. I apologise you were caught between the lines.”

Care.

“How am I supposed to believe that? Am I not a means to an end? You keep acting like I should be grateful you took me in and gave me a roof over my head in exchange for sex and now I almost…” You did not dare finish the thought. Died.

“You stupid girl. Do you truly think I would keep just any woman around my private quarters where I conduct important city business? Do you think I would share my private bed with just any prostitute?”

“I…I…” You hesitated. He was not wrong.

“I am not the kind of man to pursue, my dear. I learned the hard way you simply have to take what you want in life. I liked you. So I had you brought here.”

“Why didn’t you just say so? Why must everything you do be a power trip?”

“A power trip? Exercising dominance is crucial to survive in this world. I want you here, by my side. Is that not enough? What else do you want me to tell you?”

He helped you up, retrieving a cloth from the cupboard next to a wash bowl. The gentleness with which he wiped at your throat and your chest to clean the blood off of you surprised you so much yet another sob escaped you.

“I…I want you to tell me…you care about me? I’m not just a whore you can easily replace?”

“I don’t want any of the other whores. I wanted you. And I still do. I have no reason to lie to you, my dear. And you care about me too. I can see it in your eyes. You like the things we do together. Am I right?”

You nodded, unable to utter words for a moment.

“I hate myself for it.”

“Oh? And why is that, my dear?”

“You’re not a good person, Gortash. I can see that. I can feel it with every fibre of my being.”

“But…?”

“But…”

He threw the cloth away and cupped your face, planting a tender kiss on your lips.

“I wouldn’t have stayed if I didn’t…”

He smirked. He understood.

“I will have some servants fetched to run you a hot bath. I have some business to attend to. Then I will join you.”

“Gortash?”

“No.” He lifted a hand, a thoughtful expression decorating his handsome features for a moment. “I want you to call me by my first name when we’re in private. Enver.”

You frowned, lips parting in shock. The archduke of Baldur’s Gate wanted you to…call him by his first name?

“Enver.” You tasted the name on your tongue. It felt strange and yet…oddly familiar.

“That’s better.”

“Who is Orin? And don’t even think about telling me it doesn’t concern me given she just almost killed me.”

Gortash sighed. “She is…the Chosen of Bhaal, the god of murder and a reluctant ally of mine.”

Your eyes widened, shock rippling through you. Bhaal? The god of murder? One of the dead three?

“And who is…was…Ketheric Thorm?”

“The Chosen of Myrkul, a general who ruled over the Shadow Cursed Lands. Another reluctant ally.” Myrkul. He too was one of the dead three. The rumours you had heard about Gortash… Could that possibly mean…

“Go-…Enver…what deity do you worship?”

He smiled at you wickedly. “You have a sharp mind indeed, my dear. You might just be able to best me in a game of lance board in time.”

“Tell me what deity you worship.”

“You already know, do you not? You have asked me before, when we first met. And I am indeed, my dear, the Chosen of Bane. I will lead this city to glory.”

You took a step back, shock spreading in your veins like spiked vines. “What is this plan? What are the Netherstones?”

“That’s enough questions for now. Go and rest. The servants will be with you shortly.” He strode off, yet before he wrapped his hands around the doorknob, he turned his head and said, “Let me say it again: You belong by my side now, my dear. You have my protection. You have nothing to fear from me—or Orin, I will make sure of that. You might not agree with my methods but you cannot fight your own heart. You can trust me.”

With that, he was gone. Another promise. One that the growing butterflies in your stomach hoped he would never break. You belong by my side now, my dear.

You could leave, he had said a month ago. You should leave. Instead, you found yourself heading over to the wooden tub get rid of your now bloody dress.

#gortash imagine #gortash x reader #gortash x you #gortash x tav #lord gortash #lord gortash imagine #lord gortash x you #lord gortash x reader #lord gortash x tav #lord enver gortash #lord enver gortash imagine #lord enver gortash tav #lord enver gortash x you #lord enver gortash x reader #enver gortash #enver gortash imagine #enver gortash x you #enver gortash x reader #enver gortash x tav #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 imagine #bg3 imagine #jason isaacs

[shazzbaa]

FELLAS IS IT GAY TO,

hilariously I actually initially won against Feducci, and went back to find out what happens when you lose. IT TOOK SIX TRIES (apparently sam REALLY didn't want to permadie for some reason, idk) which I am headcanoning as Samuel just going back over and over again because WHY DIDNT KILLING HIM WORK???? But this means that the big shock for me on actually finally losing was that Feducci makes 0 effort to justify the fact that he didn't permakill you. He lances you and you're immediately dead and he absolutely COULDVE just hacked u to pieces and he just???? didn't I guess????? Feducci what r u DOING

Anyway we all had a great time thinking about how very gay it is to impale a guy with an entire lance and pin him to a tree and then decide not to permanently murder him.

I had been planning to do more of the Persuasive route next; I'm sure Sam will be So Normal in high society after this.

(I'm having fun discovering Fallen London myself with friends, no info/explanations/future knowledge in reblogs, please! AND OMG THANK U TO EVERYONE WHO LEFT SO MUCH LOVE ON MY LAST SKETCH... YOU ARE ALL A DELIGHT, i had no idea there were so many feducci-likers LMAO)

#fallen london #feducci #fallen london oc #art #sketch #shazz art #fl: the bloodstained deacon #i assume waking up in your lodgings post-death is normal but #this implies that either someone found Sams body in an abandoned piece of the forgotten quarter and brought it home #after sewing up the massive hole in his chest #oR FEDUCCI??? DID THAT????? #obsessed with this weirdo (affectionate) #sams gonna have such a cool scar

[aevumgames]

✦ | To light the darkest of paths.

Those Long Dead is a medieval fantasy interactive fiction story, with angelic imagery and themes worked in, and a focus on romance. It is rated 18+ for depictions of swearing, potential sexual themes, violence, and death. More warnings may be added as development goes on.

Three generations.

That's how long it's been since this kingdom was conquered. In a time of great upset, the First Queen led a rebellion against reviled rulers and oppressive laws. Waging war with unmatched cunning, she rallied many powerful soul mages, known as angels, to the cause. From that conflict, the kingdom of Calcherth was born, built on the bones of the old empire. The First Queen ruled with great compassion and wit, but not all sins are forgiven with time. For the deaths she had caused during the war, the First Queen was murdered by the very people she had endeavored to lead.

The loss of its ruler did not spell the end of Calcherth, however. The coup was quickly suppressed, and the First Queen's son took the throne in her place. Now, many years later, the scars on Calcherth's short history have faded, and advances in soul magic improve lives for many within its borders. However, those same advances are viewed as a threat by Calcherth's neighboring kingdom, and many fear war is on the horizon once more. To make matters even more dire, the Second King has suddenly passed away, leaving his youngest son to succeed the throne long before he is old enough.

The effects of these events are so far-reaching, that even you are beginning to feel them, far to the southwest in the remote town of Lest. You are the child of a retired knight of the kingdom, who traded in his sword for the deed to Lest's tavern. The Fool's March, your father has named it, and the humble, but beloved tavern has been the center point of your entire life. But now, with rumblings of war, your father plans to pick up a blade once again, heading to the capital to enlist and leaving you behind in your childhood home. With him no longer by your side, what will you do when a threat to the entire kingdom comes for you? What will you do when you find out you may be a soul mage, yourself?

Medieval Fantasy setting with angelic imagery and themes, and a focus on romance.

Adult characters, with the main cast being mid twenties to early thirties.

Customizable MC. Select your first name, last name, pronouns, appearance, orientation and manifestation of powers.

Five romance options of varying gender and personality, who you can interact with as you choose.

More to come as development continues!

Kaine Breckem (he/him) - The blacksmith's former apprentice, who your father took in and hired at the tavern a few years ago. A kind, but mischievous individual, Kaine cares about others a great deal, but that doesn't stop him from being full of snark. Kaine can be your closest childhood friend, or someone you unfortunately work with; the choice is yours to make. Regardless, he's rather protective of you... but who will protect him when he needs it?

Vermillion "Millie" Lousat (she/her) - A descendant of a noble family, Millie has extensive education and combat training... and is also quite the social butterfly. It doesn't matter if it's the docks or the Gilded District, if you want connections somewhere, Millie has them. She wears her heart on her sleeve and doesn't care about the consequences. Maybe you'll catch her eye, somewhere amidst the mass of other's trying for her affections?

Leon Calcherth (he/him) - Technically a prince, Leon is the standoffish older brother of the Young King, Caleb, but is no longer considered to be in line for the throne. He greatly regrets the situation this has put his younger brother in, as they're very close. Leon is not easy to get close to because of the way he acts, but maybe the prickly prince has a softer side underneath the thorns?

Milo Lance (they/them) - The commander of the Order of Light, and they absolutely live up to the position. Practically raised in Gilramore's guard barracks, Milo's personality tends to come across as stiff and business-like, but in actuality they simply enjoy being effective and to the point. A truly gentle soul in a warrior's suit of armor, if you can persuade them to let down their guard.

Clementene Fairwreight (she/her) - Celementene is a talented soul mage for the Order, but she is a researcher at her heart; field work isn't particularly for her. A slightly nervous disposition and bad eyesight really only add to her penchant to stay within Gilramore's white stone walls. Her surprisingly daring experiments with magic captivate most of her attention, but maybe she'll find something in you that can capture her focus as well?

Demo last updated 4/22/2024.

ITCH.IO PAGE | PATREON | DISCORD SERVER | PINTEREST

#if wip #if intro #twine wip #interactive fiction #interactive fiction game #sorry for the repost but the first one wont show in the tags 😭 #those long dead if

[sp0o0kylights]

Part Seven/ Part Eight (YOU ARE HERE)/ Part Nine

Ao3

Monsters aren't real.

The thing that's flying towards him is--a hallucination. A figment of Gareth's imagination.

The same way the feeling of time slowing to a crawl is just a trick of the light playing with his anxiety.

He'd be fine.

(It won't hurt.)

Gareth's limbs froze, locking him in place even as the manticore bore down on him.

Thankfully, Steve did not have that problem.

Gareth's shirt was snatched from the back, choking him as Steve yanked him out of the way.

It was just in time--the Manticore blew past seconds later, too-large body so close Gareth could feel the air move past him.

The stench was unimaginable.

A fuckload of noise exploded in Gareth's ears as time kicked back in. He fell hard, behind Steve as the older teen swung his nail bat with his left hand.

Huh. Gareth thought distantly as wood, nail and flesh connected. Steve's ambidextrous.

He never would have guessed.

Doesn't think anyone would.

(Should Gareth survive this, he will immediately tease Steve about it. Right after profusely thanking him for saving his life and having a meltdown about honest to God monsters existing in Hawkins.)

The fucker barked a noise, and the only comparable thing Gareth could relate it to was a seal--if a seal had played with some of the sound effect pedals the music store.

Maybe got run over by a car right after for good measure.

In one breath, the monsters' weird, elongated hand-paws raked lines through the floor.

In the next, a wing smashed high over Eddie's head. The finger-like claws at the crux of it pierced through Stewart's still-stuck door, balancing itself as it turned.

This brought the manticore's gore-filled hole of a mouth so close to Eddie's head Gareth thought it forfeit, and it was only Steve's interference that kept Eddie the Banished from being Eddie the Buried.

"Come on!" Steve bellowed.

He smacked the bat into the floor, as much a challenge as it was a distraction.

Thick saliva dripped to the floor in clumps as the manticore's head, a bulbous thing composed of five petal-like slices of flesh and too many teeth rattled in response.

A car horn trumpeted again--and if it was a warning it was one coming far too late.

The Manticore dropped its chest to the ground as it took the bait. A dark, black tipped scorpion tail rose over the back of the beast, stinger longer than Gareth's arm and wider than a sword.

Faster than Gareth could track, almost faster than Steve could parry, the tail lashed forward, stinger out like a lance.

(But Steve, wonderful, amazing, athletic Steve, caught and parried it with his bat.

Then and there, Gareth swore to never mock a jock, ever again.)

The bat met armored exoskeleton with a sickening crack!, the force of the hit shaking Steve's arms. His right foot slid back, biceps flexing as the stinger pushed against him, straining hard against nail and wood.

Steve grunted, shoes squeaking as he was forced to give ground, the Manticore overpowering him by the sheer strength of its tail.

The entire encounter had barely lasted a few seconds but without interference?

Steve would be thrown aside--and impaled.

Before Gareth could think about how stupid it was, he was on his feet and rushing to help.

He grabbed the fire poker off the ground and thrust it forward, towards the manticore's not-a-face.

Screamed “Go back to hell you piece of shit!” So loud his voice cracked.

It worked.

The beast flinched, tail rocketing back as it rose back up on all four paws, hissing in outrage.

Steve staggered with how fast the tail had moved, but caught himself, bat wavering in the air, and--

There was no reprieve.

No moment to breathe, because as soon as the stinger's gone there's a grotesque, hand-like paw swiping at them both.

Gareth fell back, only to realize he wasn't the target.

Steve was.

The claws flash in the flickering overhead lights and there wasn’t any time.

He's as good as dead and Gareth can't do anything to save him--

But Eddie can.

Sometime during the last few seconds, the older teen had pulled his knife. Jammed it deep into the back of the manticore's front leg, and twisted after the blade had sunk down to the hilt.

This, and the resulting aborted attack, saved Steve's life.

The thing wailed as the struck leg crumpled, sending the fucker’s head on a collision course with the floor.

Stewart's door jumped in its frame as the wing-claws, dug in deep into the wood, caught the manticore. Two flesh-petals scraped the floor, but the move kept it from falling-- at the cost of putting its full weight on the door.

A door already bowed. Hinges pre-fucked with, thanks to Eddie’s early meddling.

It didn't hold.

Hinges screamed as the wood bent, before gravity asserted itself and shattered it. Massive wood splinters shoot out in an explosion of wood, more than one piece embedding itself into the manticore.

Eddie scrambled backwards half turned to protect his head, saved from two large chunks of wood only by the grace of his thick leather jacket.

Several things happened at once.

The car outside honked a third time.

The manticore lunged.

And Eddie tripped.

One petal of teeth tore into him--a graze that left his leg a bloody mess and ripped a scream from his mouth.

Gareth and Steve both shot instinctively: Steve to attack the side of the manticore's head, Gareth to slam the fire poker into a wing.

(One second turned into three.)

The manticore in turn, leapt backwards, head shaking with the hit of Steve's bat--and Gareth had exactly one half-second to realize all they had done up until this moment was piss it off before the wing he'd struck swept out.

It struck him in the gut and Steve in the chest, sending both of them flying.

Gareth's back met the floor a second time expelling all the air from his lungs, vision going dark at the edges as his head hit the floor.

(Three seconds turned to seven.)

This time he physically couldn't move, too stunned as Eddie screamed Steve's name.

Stewart, Gareth realized, was screaming too.

(Seven seconds became eighteen, until Gareth's chest could take in air again, the loud ringing in his ears easing somewhat.)

He kept blinking, thinking the weird streaks of orange light was his vision blurring, until his brain kicked in and informed him that no, those were flames he was seeing.

Gareth pushed himself up on his elbows to find that reinforcements had arrived.

Flames flew in an arc as another on-fire tennis ball struck the Manticores side. The ball bounced, flames trickling down to the floor as the monster beast shrieked.

A third ball had it slamming itself into the wall as Gareth whipped his head to the opposite end of the hallway.

Tiff and Dustin were spraying a can of something onto a number of tennis balls--the ones Gareth knew Tiff kept in her car for tennis.

Lucas loaded one into his slingshot, drawing the rubber bands back and holding so that Jeff’s lighter could turn it into a proper weapon.

He launched it once flames encompassed it fully, and Gareth watched as it flew true.

Landed to the right of the muscular, lion--like chest, flames catching every piece of skin that was touched.

A part of Gareth expected this to only distract the fucker, the same way the pieces of wood sticking out of it’s sides had barely slowed it down--but fire, apparently was its weakness.

The manticore reacted like it was being burned with acid more so than fire, dropping and rolling and ping-pinging between walls as more and more of its wing was overtaken.

Its screams turned into rapid, wracked yelps, until finally it threw itself so hard into a wall that it fell through it.

For a moment a dark hole remained open.

Gray pieces of ash lazily floated out, giving them all a glimpse into a terrifying, dark blue forest, red lightning slashing the sky above before the hole re-sealed itself.

(It closed the way a wound did. All sides creeping in at a speed far too fast for human skin, but was just slow enough to make the wall appear like a living membrane instead of wood and plaster.)

For a long moment, the only thing Gareth could hear was all his friends' harsh panting.

"Did you kill it?" Stewart asked, head peeking around the corner.

Eddie looked to Steve to answer.

Which he did.

"Rule number two, man.” Steve raked a hand through his hair, trying to comb out the sweat that had collected at his temples after he climbed to his feet. “If you can’t see the body, it’s not dead.”

Stewart crept cautiously into the hall, looking as shell shocked as Gareth felt. "Why the hell isn't that rule one?”

"I don't know, the kids made the rules. You can ask them.”

Gareth’s head pulsed unhappily, but Gareth had other concerns as he made his way to his feet.

“How bad is it?” He asked as he made his way over, Eddie still on the ground.

“I’m alright.” Eddie lied, as if they all couldn’t see the sticky patch of blood on his torn jeans.

"Stop talking, start walking!" Dustin yelled at them.

“Eddie’s injured, give us a minute!” Steve yelled back. “God. Go make yourself useful and get my medkit!”

“I’m fine, it’s fine! ” Eddie yelled out right after, voice waspish in his pain.

It convinced absolutely no one, and in fact, caused several people to come down the hallway towards him.

Lucky for him, Steve made it there first.

Dropping to his knees in front of Eddie, he gently moved a ringed hand away from the wound, giving it a critical once over as Gareth and Stewart hovered.

“It’s not bad.” Eddie tried to argue, wincing as he poked around his leg, Steve continually having to bat his hands away. “If we can wrap it I’ll be able to walk out of here.”

“I won’t know until I see more of it.” Tiff said, Jeff and Grant right on her heels to circle Eddie and Steve. “But he might be right for once--there’s not much blood. You’re gonna lose the pants though.”

“Noooo.” Eddie said, in a poor mimic of one of his D&D voices.

“Not to rush you, but we need to get out of here.” Jeff cast an anxious look over at the wall, and Gareth nodded his agreement.

This wasn’t a safe place right now.

(Had likely never been a safe place, if it was birthing out monsters like the manticore.)

Steve looked up at Eddie, holding his gaze.

“Think you can hobble over to the cars if two of us help?”

He got a sharp nod back.

“Yeah.”

“Good. Now hop to it.” Tiff said with a clap. Her voice was dry, tone almost sarcastic, but Gareth heard the unease in it

Not that anyone needed any convincing to get the hell out of dodge.

("I'm going to take up running." Eddie told him later, hands shaking from pain as Gareth drove Van Helsing after FrankenCar, Grant's Ford Escort

They had managed to wrap Eddie’s leg up in a quick bandage with the medkit. Gareth hadn’t truly been able to bring himself to look at the wound, but he’d caught a glimpse.

The fang marks stood out on Eddie’s pale skin, and ran in so many rows it looked like he’d shoved half his leg into a shark's mouth.

Tiffany insisted it was more horrific looking than it was actually horrific, and given Eddie had made at least three “am I gonna lose the leg, Doc?” jokes, Gareth believed her.

Still--it was weird, to drive Eddie’s van.

Weirder still to see Steve's Beemer (unnamed on grounds that Hellfire couldn't decide between the Batmobile and the BeemHolder) lead their little procession--though it had been a fight to get Steve to drive the car instead of ride along with Eddie.

"We both know you’re not seriously considering going running.” Gareth told him, voice shaking. “Which is unfortunate, because I'm going to make you anyway."

His fingers tightened hard on the steering wheel.

“I’m going to make everyone go running.”

It was a testament to how scared both of them were that they ended the conversation there.

No joke, no walking back what they'd said.

Running apparently, was back to being a core survival skill and Gareth very much enjoyed staying alive.)

xXx

Gareth hadn’t asked why the Byers house was the chosen place to regroup.

Had kind of assumed that it had been picked because Will’s mother wasn’t home.

Definitely was not expecting an adult to come flying out of the door with the air of a frazzled border collie, herding kids inside before freezing when she caught sight of Eddie.

Or rather: Eddie being carefully pulled out of Van Helsing by Steve and Jeff, cursing and whining the whole way.

“You big baby, you’re not that hurt.” Jeff huffed as Eddie’s squirming almost forced him to let go, resulting in Eddie gripping at Steve’s sweater like a liferaft.

“You can talk when you’re the one that got bit by a monster, Jeffrey.” Eddie snapped back, hopping on his good leg. “I almost died!”

“Steve said it just barely grazed you--”

“Steve was busy trying to keep it off of me to really notice what was happening! Unlike you. What were you doing, Jeff? Honking the fucking car horn?”

“I wasn’t the one honking--”

They continued to bicker as Miss Byers marched forward.

Gareth expected her to yell--and given the way Eddie’s eyes went wide at the sight of her, possibly even deny them entrance.

Shoo them away or send them home.

It wouldn’t be the first time a member of Hellfire had been beaten, only for the adults around them to act like they were the ones causing trouble.

Instead, she earned Gareth’s respect immediately by moving alongside Steve and asking; “Is anyone else injured?”

Barely waited for the shake of Steve’s head before spinning on her heel and heading back inside, yelling all the way.

“Will, fetch me towels. Jonathan--get the medkit! ”

“No worries, Miss Byers. Stevie here already has one.” Eddie said, before his attempts to charm her fell utterly flat when he accidentally jostled his leg and hissed out a curse.

“Steve’s not as good as mine, hun.” Her eyes swept over his leg, calculating. “Is that bite what I think it is?”

“Related.” Steve answered, starting the lengthy process of getting Eddie inside.

“Shit.” She sighed, and for the first time that night Gareth realized she too, wore the same haunted look Steve did.

Which meant she'd believe them.

A part of him, the part who was still a teenager, a kid in his own right, relaxed that an adult knew.

As with most of Hellfire, Gareth didn’t typically trust adults, but his relationship with his own parents was slightly better than most of the others. It led him to such beliefs like that maybe, just maybe, this would be the end of the monsters.

That he’d never face a thing like that outside of D&D, ever again. That whatever events haunted Steve would be handled by the proper authorities.

(That they’d be okay. Everyone would be okay.)

Sirens sounded in the distance, and even as Gareth walked inside the house he knew it wasn’t true.

Whatever all this was?

It wasn’t going away anytime soon.

“Munson?” A rumpled Jonathan Byers said, blinking like an owl hit with sunlight as the Steve-Eddie-Jeff procession went past.

He got a half-assed roguish grin and a waggle of fingers while Steve rolled his eyes over Eddie’s head.

“What happened!?” Jonathan asked, as Joyce bustled past him, relieving Jonathan of the medkit.

“It’s a long story, but we have a code red at the lab.”

Gareth knew he was frazzled, purely by the fact his hands once again went to mess with his hair, right after helping Eddie down into a chair.

“Which they knew apparently.”

‘They’ was accompanied by Steve jerking his thumb towards the living room--where the kids were talking to themselves in a huddle.

Outside, the sirens grew louder.

Jonathan looked to the living room and back, before heaving a sigh so world weary it was almost impressive. “Of course they did.”

“Demodog?” Miss Byers asked as she laid out various medical supplies on her kitchen table, pausing every so often to stare at Eddie’s leg.

“It was a manticore!” One of the kids yelled.

Gareth wasn't surprised to learn some of the brats were listening in.

There was a pause, as Miss Byers stared quizzically at Steve.

“It's like a demodog but much larger?” He told her, making an awkward shape with his hands that explained absolutely nothing. “With wings? Oh--and a scorpion tail.”

“It was terrifying.” Stewart added in a mutter, all of Hellfire awkwardly camped themselves around Eddie.

Which wasn’t good, given the frown on Miss Byers face as she carefully cut away even more of his jeans and their shitty attempt at band-aiding his wound.

It was the face of someone who was about to cause pain in an attempt to heal, and knew it.

For all that he was their front-man and self-proclaimed shepherd of Hellfire, Eddie's pain tolerance was absolute shit.

The guy could take a punch well enough, and the rings on his hands meant business when he hit back--but when adrenaline wasn't flowing?

Eddie broke down faster than his van did.

This whole thing was a bit of a sore spot. Something Eddie had admitted once under extreme duress had come from his father repeatedly telling him a man needed to be tough, and a Munson man even tougher.

(The duress in question was during one particularly animated D&D fight.

Eddie had gotten too excited and slapped an open palm down on top of a pointy figure, embedded it well into his skin.

The incident had derailed the campaign entirely and caused Hellfire as a whole to learn that their fearless leader really hated people watching him cry.)

Needless to say, a room full of children, his friends, his crush, and one of said kids' mothers wasn't exactly an ideal set up for Eddie to lose it.

So Gareth set himself up as a sort of barrier, blocking Eddie's view from the living room (and hopefully, vice versa, before making eyes at his friends to do the same.

Thankfully Jeff at least, caught on.

Communication was given through pointed looks and nudging elbows, but quickly enough, Hellfire managed to make a decently solid barrier between the kids (and Jonathan, who was doing an amazing job of chewing out said children) leaving Steve and Gareth as the sole onlookers.

“Alright, someone start talking.” Miss Byers loudly commanded, as she finally unearthed Eddie’s wounds.

To Eddie, she offered a well-used bottle of Tylenol, muttering quiet apologies before she began cleaning his very gross looking wound.

“Hey--” Gareth himself muttered, half praying he’d magically think of an excuse for Steve to fuck off, only to realize Hellfire’s jock had actually moved into the kitchen.

A line of mismatched mugs and cups was taking form on the counter, and it took a minute of carefully looking anywhere but at Eddie as Miss Byers worked to figure out Steve was making hot chocolate.

Figured that was probably smart, given Grant looked so tense Gareth expected his head to explode at any second.

(The loud arguing from the kids as they tried to explain didn't help any.)

A thought that Jonathan also seemed to have, given he put on a voice that sounded far to fatherly for Gareth's comfort and bellowed;

“Alright, enough!”

--which at least got him the silence he wanted.

“One at a time!” Jonathan parented from the living room. “Will, you start. Dustin you’re up next, then Mike, then El.”

He put his hands on his hips and Gareth nearly laughed aloud, because apparently the children weren't the only ones picking up Steve's mannerisms.

“Start from when you decided to sneak out without telling anybody but Steve.”

“If it makes you feel better we didn't actually tell Steve.” Dustin chirped.

Jonathan stared at him, and judging from his face alone Gareth expected utter hell to erupt from his mouth.

Instead they got a sort of quiet: “That does actually make me feel a bit better, thanks.”

Steve scoffed from the kitchen in response, which thankfully covered Eddie’s pained hiss from where Miss Byers was patting hydrogen peroxide into his bite mark.

Unfortunately for Jonathan, the kids came up with their own order and as always, let Dustin and Mike be their talking pieces.

“Like we told everyone else, it started because Will and El sensed something--” One began, right as red and blue lights splashed across the walls.

The source of the siren--a police truck that, judging bu the loud crunch of tires sliding on gravel and a shriek of breaks--had arrived.

Several of the children (plus Grant) cursed.

“Who called Hopper?!”

“He’s El’s dad idiot, of course someone called him.”

“Come on Max didn’t we talk about calling people names--”

Eddie tensed, as did the majority of the room, as loud, pounding footsteps tore up the front porch.

“I called him.” Miss Byers said as she rose from her crouch, apparently done re-bandaging Eddie.

She weaved her way through the room and was nearly taken out by her own front door when it was flung open to reveal the man himself, who looked like he’d spent the night fist-fighting his way through a bar, in the dark.

“El?!” He bellowed, eyes frantically scanning the room before landing on her.

The relief was so immediate it seemed to make him slump for a second.

Or rather, long enough for him to draw in enough air to get out a proper yell. “Someone better start explaining, right now. Starting with you Michael Wheeler!”

It was only then, as the man himself stepped into the light, that Gareth finally figured out why he looked sort of--off.

Unreal even, like a figure stepping out of a dream and into reality.

Jim Hopper, Chief of Hawkins Police Department, was wearing Scooby Doo pajamas.

The top was a faded orange color, boasting an image of a footstep in the center of a magnifying glass.

The bottoms were green, the head of the famed Great Dane patterned all over.

Combined?

It was Gareth's last straw.

‘You cannot be having a panic attack over the Chief’s pajamas.’ A far away part of Gareth thought hysterically, as his vision kaleidoscoped.

God, was he so fucking lame.

#adopt a jock #pre steddie #steddie #gareth emerson #steven harrington #eddie munson #the hellfire club #the party #and #a manticore #0o0 fanfics #stranger things fanfic #stranger things #hellfire adopts steve #RIP to hellfire you had a good run not knowing about any of this lol #tw small injury mention #tw panic attack mention there at the end #cause Gareth just kinda paused his while fighting for his life lol