#Im litterally at a point of almost giving up this account

[matchingbatbites]

somehow we're here

Explicit | 6.5k | Modern AU | Full Tags + Read on Ao3

Steve only downloaded the app because he was drunk. 

At least, that’s what he’ll tell himself in the morning, once he’s back in the light of day and not half-gone on a few fruity cocktails and multiple shots of tequila - at least three, though it’s realistically more like five or six. Nevermind that he’s been home for almost an hour at this point, is only still awake because of the vague nausea still rolling in his stomach. 

It had been incredibly easy to set up an account, even in his drunken state - something he thinks might be a feature and not a bug - and he’s been scrolling on it for about ten minutes when he realizes-

He’s still bored.

Because that had been the real reason, hadn’t it?

Steve is bored. Bored of first dates that seem to go nowhere, of relationships that seem to fizzle out after a few weeks, and for whatever reason, Tequila Steve seems convinced that a gay dating app would be a fun thing to sign up for. It’s not like he has anything to lose, he’s just bored and kind of horny and definitely not lonely and desperate.

So Steve flips through profiles, taking in photos of the same waifish boys and beefy gym bros. He’s just about ready to give up and try to sleep through the nausea, when he stumbles across a profile that makes him stop cold. 

The photo looks like it’s from a concert or something; the guy is on a stage, clearly mid-show, with a wicked looking guitar in his hands. Steve’s eyes get caught on those hands, the veins and the painted nails and the chunky, silver rings. 

His hair is a riot of dark curls haloed by the stage lights, and Steve regrets that he isn’t able to see the man’s face. He focuses instead on his clothes, the black t-shirt and ripped jeans, his exposed forearms littered with black ink. 

The photo is so honest. It’s pure, simple emotion and Steve is instantly drawn in, eager to know more about this person.

The next photo is closer, clearly cropped down from a larger picture, and Steve gets his first good look at the man’s beautiful face. Deep, chocolate eyes that house a delighted sparkle, a blinding smile that sets loose a swarm of butterflies in Steve’s stomach. Not to mention the piercings; two just below his lower lip and another through his eyebrow - Steve briefly wonders if he has more, maybe his tongue or his nipples - fuck, that would be so hot.

In the last photo the man is seated on a couch, holding an acoustic guitar this time, and he seems focused on whatever he’s playing, clearly unaware of the camera-person at all. Those brown curls are pulled into an updo, revealing ears littered with even more silver jewelry, and there’s a cute little crinkle between his brows that Steve wants to smooth out with his thumb.

Steve scrolls down to actually read the guy’s profile, and sees that his name is Eddie. He’s 27 and local to the area, he likes metal music and D&D, and he definitely seems to check a lot of Steve’s boxes. Nerdy? Yeah. Hot? Fuck yeah. Confident? If the concert photo is anything to go by, this man has confidence coming out his ass. So yeah, check there too. 

He adds the guy without hesitation, and will once again blame Tequila Steve for what’s next once he’s sober. He sends Eddie a message.

‘Hi, i’m straight, i literally just got this app cause im kinda bord and kinda drunk. But you’re actually my type. Can I be honest?’

Steve doesn’t really expect an immediate response, considering that it’s two in the morning and all, so he decides to flip over to a different app, already knowing that he isn’t really going to care about anyone else he might come across. He’s surprised when only a couple of minutes later, he gets back a simple ‘Sure lmao’, and scrambles to flip back over to the messenger.

‘I didint think i’d message anyone on here but your cute and hnestly i geuss i kinda like that you won’t get pregnant.’

He decides to wait this time, to see if he’ll get another quick response, and he holds his breath when the typing indicator pops up, only to disappear again. It does this a couple of times, like Eddie is writing and pausing, or erasing and starting over, and Steve just waits, so curious to know what the other man is going to say.

‘Are you free tomorrow? I need to know if you’re as adorably endearing when you’re sober.’

Steve gasps in delight. Eddie wants to meet him! He kicks his feet a little in excitement and messages back ‘I can be as endering as you want me to be baby.’ It takes him a second to realize he hadn’t actually answered Eddie’s question, and he sends a follow up ‘Yes i am free tomorow.’

‘Meet me at Hank’s on 6th? 7pm?’

He confirms the time and place, and even as giddy as he is, Steve’s barely able to exchange a few more messages before he’s out like a light.

Steve wakes up the next morning with a headache. It’s nowhere near the level of one of his migraines, but it’s enough to be annoying as he gets up and starts his day. He’s thankful it’s Saturday, that all he really has to worry about are some errands and brunch with Robin.

A quick shower and a cup of coffee has him feeling more alive, but meeting up with Robin makes him feel better than anything else could. She looks about as bad as he does, which is interesting considering that she didn’t even come with him to the club last night. 

They chatter on for a while, with Steve letting her rant again about the situation she finds herself in (she refuses to drop Vickie even though the girl bounces between her on-again-off-again boyfriend and Robin like a fucking ping pong ball, and she also refuses to admit her growing feelings for Chrissy, her roommate turned friend with benefits. It’s a whole mess.)

She asks about his own dating life, and he honestly has nothing new to report. He’d gone out last night intending to at least find someone to take home, but once he actually got into the scene, the effort just didn’t seem worth it for a temporary fix. 

Instead he drank, and he danced with strangers until the room started to spin, and then he made his way home. He’d had fun, even though he'd ended his night alone. Robin hums and pours another drink from the pitcher between them - White Peach Sangria this week, and it’s good, though Steve prefers the Bloody Mary they had last time. 

“We're kind of pathetic, huh?”

“I mean, you are,” Steve replies, and shrugs when she gives an affronted Hey! “I might be single, but you're the one who's letting a great girl slip through your fingers because you can’t say no to your fickle ex.”

“She’s not fickle-”

“Where was she last night?” Steve asks, staring Robin down until she says “With me.”

“Mhm. And where is she now?”

Robin frowns hard and grumbles “With Jack.” 

Steve gives her a look, and she sinks down a little in her seat. 

“You know, sometimes I forget that you were friends with the mean girls in high school, and then you hit me with that fucking Carol Perkins face and it all comes flooding back,” she says, and Steve rolls his eyes. 

“Stop being a drama queen, and stop waiting for Vickie to change her mind about Jack. It’s not fair for her to come running to you every time they have a fight if she has no intention of actually leaving him for you. You deserve better, Rob.”

Robin groans and drains the last of her glass. “When did you get so wise and shit?”

“Fuck you,” Steve says, no heat behind it as he kicks her under the table. “I know how relationships work and shit. You’re the one who doesn’t listen to me.”

She kicks him back with a “Yeah, yeah. Come on, let’s finish this pitcher so I can go home and wallow.”

The notification comes in after brunch, once he and Robin have parted ways and Steve’s just parked at the grocery store (he doesn’t take Robin with him to the store anymore, for both of their sakes). 

‘Hey, just want to make sure we’re still good for tonight?’

Tonight? What’s tonight?

It takes him a moment to remember his actions from the night before, to remember the app. Steve’s stomach flips at the vague memory of a conversation and he opens the messenger. He scrolls up, reading his message history with this Eddie person, and oh god. 

Is it possible to get secondhand embarrassment from your own actions? Your very drunk and somewhat horny actions? The guy seemed to take it pretty well, at least, and Steve taps over to his profile out of curiosity.

And yeah, okay, Tequila Steve had a point. He’s never thought about dating a guy before, but this man is hot, just absolutely sexy in a way Sober Steve isn’t prepared for. He had been planning on telling this Eddie guy that he was drunk when he agreed to meet, that he wasn’t interested, but now that would be a lie. Because he’s definitely interested.

He sends a ‘Yup! Still good :)’ and then quickly follows it with ‘I was so drunk last night that I kind of forgot about our conversation, so I’m glad you messaged me!’

Eddie’s reply takes a second, that starting and stopping going on just long enough to make Steve nervous before a message comes through. 

‘Oh damn! I’m glad I did too. Though you did tell me last night that you’re straight, so I won’t hold it against you if you don’t want to meet anymore. I know alcohol can make us do things we normally wouldn’t.’

Oh, he’s sweet. Steve actually does decide to think about it, and flips back over to Eddie’s profile as he does. He goes through the photos again, imagines what it would be like to be close, be intimate with Eddie the way he has with women. It doesn’t scare him the way he thinks it should, because he doesn’t actually think it would be that different. Sex is just sex, right? It’s the person that makes it fun, makes it special. And Eddie definitely seems like a special one.

What reaffirms Steve’s decision is the last photo, where Eddie is holding the acoustic. His eyes catch again on those ringed fingers, on the rough, clearly hand cut neckline of Eddie’s shirt. He thinks about what it would be like to lick the jut of Eddie’s exposed collar bone, and the shiver that runs down his spine has him immediately flipping back to the conversation.

‘I definitely still want to meet. As embarrassing as I was last night, I was telling the truth.’

‘Oh good! Nice to know that sober Steve also thinks I’m cute and is glad I can’t get pregnant.’

Steve groans and drops his head onto the steering wheel a few times. He's never gonna live that one down, is he?

Another message comes through before he can be too mortified, though he almost regrets looking when he sees ‘Unless sober Steve is more upset by that than glad’ which is followed rapidly by ‘It’s okay baby, we can always pretend if you want ;)’

This man is gonna fucking kill Steve.

Hank's on 6th is a little dive bar that Steve has actually been to a few times, when he and Robin had wanted to go drinking but hadn’t wanted to deal with the noise and bustle of the club. It’s cozy compared to other bars in the area, and Steve is happy for the familiarity of the location as he steps inside. He pauses inside the door and glances around, looking for- oh.

Sitting at a nearby table is Eddie, in the flesh. He’s even more stunning in person, with his hair pulled up into a bun, showing off the jewelry in his ears and the long line of his neck. He’s wearing a dark t-shirt and jeans, and Steve can see a leather jacket slung over the back of his chair.

Eddie spots Steve about the same time and waves, inviting him over. He does his own once-over as Steve approaches, and Steve knows what he looks like. He spent long enough in front of the mirror agonizing over his appearance, making sure everything was perfect. His red sweater is comfortable even though it’s a smidge too small, and he can see Eddie’s eyes catch on the way it stretches across his shoulders, on his forearms where he’s rolled the sleeves up. 

“Not gonna lie,” Eddie says as Steve sits down. “I’m kind of surprised you showed up.”

“I said I would. Tequila Steve might not be the smartest, but sometimes he has good ideas.”

Eddie laughs and Steve is overwhelmed with the desire to dig his thumb into the dimple that appears in the man’s cheek. “Well I hope I get the chance to thank him someday.”

Eddie’s photos don’t do him justice, don’t properly convey the energy he has. They get on better than Steve would have imagined, and while the conversation lulls every now and then, it never truly stops. His piercings catch the light, pulling Steve's attention down to his mouth, to the way it moves while Eddie speaks. It’s distracting, and the teasing smile Eddie wears for the conversation tells Steve that he knows.

Steve learns that Eddie works at an assisted living facility, something he never would have guessed based on the man’s appearance. It’s not a job Eddie ever expected to have, but he loves it, loves helping people who need it and gossiping with the old biddies that have taken a shine to him. In exchange Steve talks about his job as a physical therapist, how he recently started his experiential hours so he can specialize in pediatrics. 

(“I feel kind of dumb now,” Eddie says. “Knowing that you’re a whole ass doctor and I just have a CNA.”

“Eddie, I majored in kinesiology. You’re probably better in a medical setting than I ever will be.”)

They talk about their hobbies and interests, pleased to learn there’s a little bit of crossover with everything. They may not know the ins and outs, but Steve has absorbed some knowledge on D&D thanks to the kids he used to babysit, and Eddie likes to watch sports with his uncle to keep him company on his off days.

They sit and talk for a long while, completely unaware of the time passing until Steve looks at his watch and realizes it’s been nearly four hours since they sat down. 

“Holy shit, it’s almost eleven,” he says, and Eddie blinks in surprise. “Oh wow, I had no idea.” 

It’s like they’ve been snapped back into reality, and Steve notices the half dozen beer bottles littering their table along with the bill that’s been there for who knows how long. Steve pays the check - nearly shoves his card into the server’s hand so he can beat Eddie to it - and they both leave cash for the tip before heading out of the bar.

It’s outside Hank’s that the hesitation sets in. This is one of the best dates Steve has been on in a long, long time, and he really isn’t ready for it to be over. He thinks Eddie feels the same, if the way he reaches over to thread their fingers together means anything.

“Do you want to come back to my place?” Steve asks, practically on impulse, and Eddie smiles.

“I would love to, Stevie.” He takes a breath like he wants to say something else, but pauses, and Steve squeezes his hand gently.

“What are you thinking?”

“I’m trying to figure out how to tell you that I want to have sex with you without sounding like a slut who puts out on the first date.”

Well, that’s fair. Steve doesn’t usually have sex on the first date either. He likes the connection that comes with knowing someone emotionally before learning them physically, but there’s just something about Eddie. Steve feels like he knows the man inside and out after just four hours together, and he knows it’s fast but he wonders what it would feel like to wake up next to him in the morning. 

Steve just grins at the blunt honesty and tugs Eddie closer. “If you’re a slut then so am I, because I’m definitely down for that.” 

The drive back to Steve’s place doesn’t take long, and before he knows it he’s locking the door behind them as Eddie sheds his leather jacket. He drapes it over the back of the couch as he looks around, taking in Steve’s apartment. It’s not much, but it’s comfortable, cozy, very different from the sterile house Steve grew up in.

Eddie smiles as he sees the trinkets dotted about, a mix of gifts from the kids Steve used to babysit and his own little knick knacks, but pauses when he sees a photo collage of Steve and Robin on the nearby wall. Steve doesn’t like the way his smile dips down into a frown, and he walks over to wrap his arm around Eddie’s waist.

“That’s Robin,” he says as he pulls Eddie into his side, needing to quell any doubts or misconceptions he might be having. “She’s my best friend in the entire world, and a lesbian, so you can stop pouting now.”

Eddie gives him a bit of a side-eye and says “Not pouting. Just want to make sure you’re not doing this behind the back of an unsuspecting girlfriend or something.”

Steve smiles at the consideration and shakes his head as he turns Eddie to face him. “No girl, Eds, I promise. Just you and me.”

Something about that seems to be the final straw for Eddie because he surges forward, hands landing on Steve's neck as he leans up to press their mouths together.

The first kiss with Eddie is easy. It’s not earth-shattering or life changing, not like Steve thought it would be kissing a man for the first time. It feels like a normal kiss, and honestly that’s more of a comfort to Steve than anything. The fact that it’s Eddie on the other side of the kiss is what makes him shudder, makes him press closer. 

Eddie’s hands push up into his hair, messing up the styling as Steve dips his head to kiss along his jaw. He hums into smooth skin and slides his own hands down to Eddie’s ass, squeezing it briefly before using his grip to drag Eddie’s hips against his own.

He can feel the line of Eddie’s dick through the layers of denim and yeah, that’s different, but not bad at all. Steve warms up to it pretty quickly actually, especially once Eddie starts moaning into his ear, a low “Fuck, baby,” that only encourages Steve to continue. Their mouths meet in another kiss as Steve grinds their hips together, each thrust working to drive Steve absolutely insane.

Eddie’s hands eventually make their way south to ruck up Steve’s sweater, and he breaks the kiss just enough to mutter “Off, get this off,” against Steve's mouth.

Steve laughs but steps back, pulls off his top and drops it carelessly to the floor. Eddie groans and reaches out, not even hesitating before he pushes his hands into Steve’s chest hair. “God, I’ve been wanting to do that since I saw your photo last night,” he mutters, and it takes Steve a moment to remember the picture he’d drunkenly added to his profile. 

It was just a typical shirtless thirst shot he’d taken before a run one day (though he had put a shirt on before he actually left, thank you), because he’d felt good about the way he looked - and clearly Eddie had appreciated the picture as well. Steve shudders as Eddie scrapes his nails down his chest, and he half-expects Eddie to start purring in delight. 

“Is it as good as you imagined?” he asks, biting back a chuckle, and Eddie nods. 

“Better than. So fuckin’ hot. Don't ever shave it, I beg you.”

Steve does laugh at that. He lets Eddie get his fill for a moment before swooping in to kiss him again. He slips his fingers into Eddie’s belt loops and mutters a “Bed?” against his mouth. Eddie hums in agreement and Steve tugs him along, guiding him to the bedroom and only stopping once to grind their hips together.  

He steps back enough to pull off Eddie’s shirt and groans because his nipples are pierced, and fuck if that isn’t doing something for Steve. Thumbing over one makes Eddie shiver and gasp, and he knows that he needs to get his mouth on them as soon as possible. He feels like a predator as he pushes Eddie back, not stopping until the man is sprawled across his bed, a beautiful feast meant just for him.

Steve crawls on top of Eddie and presses his lips to the spider decorating his shoulder before moving down to lick over his nipple. Eddie shudders and pushes his hands into Steve's hair, holding him in place as Steve seals his mouth around the pink bud. The piercing is warm, and the stark contrast between metal and flesh has Steve groaning into Eddie's skin.

He sucks on it, earning a stuttering moan from the man under him and hands tightening in his hair. “Fu-uck, Stevie.” Steve thumbs over the other nipple and pinches it just to hear him gasp again, before continuing his journey southwards, pressing kisses into the tattoos he comes across along the way. He pauses for a moment to suck a bruise into Eddie’s hip, just above his waistband, and the man is practically squirming.

“God, when I agreed to come over, I didn’t think you were gonna be this much of a tease.”

Steve rolls his eyes and bites into the bruise he just created, pulling a low groan from Eddie. “It’s called foreplay, you ass.”

“I’d rather you foreplay my ass,” Eddie mutters, and Steve laughs into smooth skin. He does concede, though, and pulls back so he can slide off Eddie’s jeans and underwear, discarding them to the floor. Eddie’s dick is pretty, a smidge thinner than his own but just as long, and weeping heavily from the pink tip. Steve wants to touch it, taste it, wants to feel the weight of it on his tongue as Eddie fucks his mouth.

“Feel free to touch it, not just look at it,” Eddie says, and Steve smirks. 

“Normally I would, but someone wanted me to skip the foreplay.”

Eddie groans dramatically in response and Steve ignores him as he reaches over into the nightstand to grab the lube and a condom. He drops the items next to Eddie, and the man gives an “Oh shit!” as he grabs the tube. “You actually have lube?” 

“Uh, I'm a grown man, Eddie. Not some 15-year-old that still uses lotion to jack off.”

Eddie rolls his eyes and smacks the bottle against Steve's chest. “Twenty-four hours ago you told me you were straight, excuse me for making some assumptions.”

“Stereotypical assumptions,” Steve tacks on and Eddie rolls his eyes again harder. “Also you might be surprised to learn this, but some women also enjoy anal, so I'm not actually a complete newbie when it comes to this.”

“And here I was thinking I'd have to hold your hand through the whole thing.”

Steve huffs a laugh and slicks up his fingers. “Oh, do you not want to hold hands while I fuck you into the mattress?”

Eddie gasps and brings a hand to his forehead, like a mockery of some swooning maiden as he says “Why Stevie, I think that's the most romantic thing you've said so- ohhh my god.” He groans as Steve pushes the finger deeper, and kicks his shoulder gently when Steve just grins.

“Shut the fuck up,” Eddie spits, but Steve can tell there's no real heat behind it. He just hums, says “I dunno what you're talking about,” as he slides a second in alongside the first. He hooks his free hand under Eddie’s knee and pushes it closer to his chest, exposing him a bit more. 

Steve leans down to press a kiss to Eddie’s neglected dick and curls his fingers at the same time, trying to hit Eddie’s prostate. He knows he’s successful when hands jerk down, sinking into his hair once more as Eddie keens.

“Shit, Stevie-!” 

“Wanna suck you off next time. Wanna pin your hips to the bed and see how much I can take, wanna tease you until you come on my face, in my mouth.”

Eddie shudders and nods, bucks his hips as best he can with Steve’s fingers in him. “Oh fuck, yes. Gonna let me paint your face, baby? Gonna let me be the first cock to fuck that pretty mouth?”

Steve groans a “Fuck yeah, Eds,” and pushes in a third finger, eager to finish his prep but not wanting to rush. He spreads his fingers wide as he leans in again, sinking his teeth into the junction where thigh meets groin, and Eddie's entire body jerks at the bit of pain.

He tugs at Steve's hair, trying to pull him up as he says “Fuck! That's gotta be good enough, need you in me fucking last week, sweetheart.”

Steve shudders and nods with a “Yeah, baby,” as he pulls his fingers free. He stands up and strips off his remaining clothes, not worrying about where they land before he climbs back between Eddie's legs. He can feel Eddie watching as he rolls on the condom, and he's about to make a remark about it when the man says “You know what kind of sucks?”

Steve just hums in response as he scoots closer, until his thighs are pressed against Eddie's ass and all he has to do is push forward just a little more-

“That we’ll have to get tested before we can put my ability to not get pregnant to good use.”

A groan rips through Steve and he drops his head back at the mental image that creates. “Fuck, you can’t just say that.”

Eddie grins, all Cheshire and taunting as he says “Oh, I can’t? I can’t tell you how excited I am for you to come in me, to fill up my ass until I’m fucking leaking- mmh!”

Steve dives down to shut him up with a kiss before he can say anything else, and he can feel Eddie laughing into it. Arms wrap around Steve’s shoulders, holding him close as they take a moment to just make out, all slick and languid like they're not both on the verge of desperation. Steve wraps a hand around his dick and blindly rubs the head against Eddie’s hole before he finally pushes forward.

Even after prep, Eddie is tight, and Steve groans as he slowly sinks in, not stopping until his hips are flush with Eddie’s ass. He rubs his hands over Eddie’s sides as he just waits there, giving the man a chance to adjust. It only takes a moment before Eddie gives a soft “Okay, I'm good,” and Steve holds good on his word. He leans forward, lacing his fingers with Eddie's and pressing them into the bed as he starts a slow pace.

Eddie goes all starry-eyed as he glances at their joined hands, and mutters “Didn't think you were serious about that.”

“I don't joke about hand holding, Eds. It's very important.” That pulls a soft laugh from Eddie and Steve leans closer until he can kiss that smile, can taste the laugh at its source.

It's hands down the best sex Steve has ever had. Eddie is so responsive, all noisy and twitchy and eager. He quickly figures out what Steve likes and doesn't even attempt to keep his mouth shut, just offers a stream of encouragement that’s only broken when Steve finds and abuses that sweet spot inside him.

“Right there, Eddie? Is that it, baby?”

“Uh-huh, fuck, so good!”

Eddie's a fucking vision, with his brown curls slowly escaping the confines of the bun and his eyes glazed over in pleasure. Steve releases Eddie's hands and slides his own down to clutch at the man's slim waist, his fingers digging into the tattoos decorating his skin. He fantasizes about leaving bruises, about leaving his own mark alongside the black ink and fucks into him harder at just the idea. 

“Shit, Stevie! Gonna come, gonna-”

Eddie gets a hand around his dick and barely gets in a few strokes before he’s coming, a loud “Fuckfuckfuck!” escaping him as he spills over his hand and onto his stomach. It’s so fucking hot, and Steve’s hands tighten around Eddie's waist at the sight. His thrusts are a bit wild as he chases his own orgasm, and all it takes is Eddie's reedy “In me, Steve, give it to me-” before it hits him like a fucking truck. 

He doesn't remember the last time he came this hard, his hips grinding against Eddie's ass as he fills the condom before eventually collapsing down onto the other man. They just lay there for a moment, waiting for their highs to settle and their breathing to return to normal, and Steve smiles when Eddie starts to giggle.

“What's that about?” he asks, using the opportunity to press a few kisses along the line of Eddie's shoulder and neck. The man just grins and shakes his head.

“I haven't bottomed in like- three years. Forgot how good it feels.”

That surprises Steve a bit, actually. “Three years? And you just break that streak for some random person you met on the internet?”

“Mhm. You sent me those messages and I was like ‘Wow, I can't believe I'm gonna let this guy fuck me’.”

Steve laughs and nips at Eddie's shoulder. After a few minutes he carefully pulls out and reluctantly leaves Eddie on the bed as he goes to the bathroom to trash the condom and grab a wet hand towel. He cleans Eddie up before tossing the cloth to the floor and laying down beside him. He's instantly wrapped up in Eddie's arms and he sighs happily as they huddle close together.

“Stay the night? I'll make you breakfast in the morning,” Steve offers, and Eddie hums into his temple. 

“With coffee?”

“With coffee.”

Another hum before Eddie nuzzles into his hair, and Steve can feel Eddie press a kiss to the crown of his head. “Then I'd love to stay the night, Stevie.”

Steve wakes up slowly the next morning. The sun shining through the window bathes the room in golden light, making Eddie look ethereal where he lays curled into Steve’s side. He takes a moment to just watch the man, to admire the relaxed lines of Eddie’s face as he slumbers on, unaware.

He doesn’t know the last time he felt a connection with someone this- profound. 

Actually, no - the last time this happened was probably with Robin, the girl who became something closer to him than a sister, the one person who probably knows him better than he knows himself. Being with Eddie feels so similar to those early days with Robin - after they’d gotten locked in the bathroom during a mall fire, not the actual early days when Robin seemingly hated him.

So Steve knows deep in his soul that there’s something about Eddie. Something so special ingrained into his very existence, and Steve’s sure that, if he just gives it a chance, Eddie could change his life.

After a few more minutes of basking in the morning silence, he tries to slip out of bed without waking Eddie, but he knows he’s failed when the arms just tighten around him. Eddie groans out a “Noooo,” and Steve grins. He presses a kiss to Eddie’s hair and says “Gotta let me go if you want me to make your coffee.”

A muffled “Man of my dreams,” as Eddie releases him has Steve chuckling as he climbs out of bed. He throws on a pair of sweatpants and heads downstairs, and puts on some coffee before he does anything else. By the time Eddie joins him, dressed only in his boxers from the night before, the coffee is ready and Steve is stacking pancakes onto a couple of plates. 

Eddie seems more awake as he wraps his arms around Steve, pressing a quick kiss to his shoulder along with a soft “Morning, sweetheart.”

“Morning, baby. Coffee’s on the counter, sugar’s in the jar and milk is in the fridge if you want it.”

Another kiss meets his skin, this one just below his ear, before Eddie is pulling away. Steve finishes plating the pancakes while Eddie makes his coffee, and they converge at the kitchen island. They eat mostly in silence, but it's not uncomfortable. It's easy, actually, to let the quiet settle around them like a warm blanket. But that doesn't mean Steve's thoughts aren't racing.

“So, uh.” Steve pauses, feels almost bashful as he looks up at Eddie. “It's been a really, really long time since I've felt a connection like this, and I may be a little dumb, but I'm not an idiot.” Eddie frowns at Steve's little self deprecating dig, but doesn't say anything as he continues. “I really want to see where this goes, if you're up for it.”

A slow grin breaks out on Eddie's face and he leans in, getting into Steve's personal space. “Why Stevie. Are you asking me to be your boyfriend? After only one date?”

Steve huffs a laugh and slides a hand up to the base of Eddie's neck, feeling and tangling his fingers with the soft hair there. “I’d ask you right now to move in if it wouldn't make me look fucking insane.”

Eddie's expression instantly goes slack with shock, and fuck, Steve's done it again, hasn't he? Said too much, too soon, and lost something good before it even had a chance to go anywhere. He starts to pull away, wanting to give Eddie some space, but he's stopped by two hands settling on his waist, practically clutching the bare skin.

“My lease is up for renewal in three months,” Eddie says, and Steve blinks in surprise. “So maybe at that point we can see where we are? Because you're right. I don't think I've ever just clicked with someone like this before. It feels like- like fucking destiny or something. And I also really, really want to see where this goes.”

Steve gives in to the urge to pull Eddie forward into a kiss. It’s intense and passionate and a bit sticky, the maple syrup making their lips tacky and causing Eddie to giggle into Steve's mouth.

They’re interrupted by the sound of Steve’s phone ringing with a video call, and he knows who it is before he even looks at the device. He answers with a “Morning, Robin,” and is met with a manic “You’ll never guess what happened this morning!”

“I would hope something with Chrissy, but I’m guessing it’s something with Vickie-”

“Vickie called! Jack fucking proposed to her last night!”

Oh shit. “And she said..?”

“They’re on good terms right now, so of course she said yes!”

Steve takes a sip of coffee and hums. “Sounds like it’s time for you to put on some big girl panties and ask Chrissy out on a real date.”

“Steven, you know I hate that word.”

“I will record it and set it as your ringtone if you don’t make some kind of move, Robin. Before Chrissy gets tired of waiting for you to make a decision and makes one herself.”

She groans pathetically and Steve watches her scrub a hand over her face. “I hate it when you make sense. Can we stop talking about me, please? Distract me with something else.”

“Oh, well, uh,” Steve glances up at Eddie who has been watching the interaction with an amused smile. His heart swells with affection and he blurts out “I have a boyfriend.”

Eddie beams at him as Robin blinks, most likely processing before she says “You just told me yesterday that your dating life was practically nonexistent, and now you have a boyfriend? How did that happen?? And moreover, how long have you liked men??”

She sounds incredulous - rightfully so, honestly - and Steve shrugs. “At least twenty-four hours, but it could realistically be closer to something like thirty-six. I downloaded a dating app the night before last and met Eddie on it. We went on a date last night, he stayed over, and I asked him to be my boyfriend this morning.”

“You asked me to move in this morning,” Eddie says, and Robin must catch it because she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. 

“You’re gonna put every U-haul lesbian in this city to shame,” she mutters before looking at Steve again. “Are you not like- freaking out? I mean, in the near decade I’ve known you, you’ve only dated girls, and now you’re dating a guy? Just like that?”

Steve shrugs and reaches out to take one of Eddie’s hands. “I guess so. You know I’ve always been a roll with the punches kinda guy. And Eddie is- Special. He’s special.”

Eddie is looking at him with those big, brown eyes, wide and a bit awestruck, and Steve can’t resist reeling him close for a quick kiss.

“I am so happy for you,” Robin says, pulling Steve’s attention back to his phone, “but also incredibly upset because now I know I have to follow your advice about Chrissy. Which is just absolutely terrifying.”

“You should have been listening from the beginning. Seriously though, go get your girl, Rob. You deserve to be happy.”

They say their goodbyes after another moment and Steve focuses back on Eddie. “Did you have anything to do today?” he asks as he collects their empty plates and takes them to the sink. Eddie follows, draining the last of his coffee before he replies “Not today. Why, did you have something to do?”

Steve grins and takes Eddie’s mug, setting it on the counter before he scoops the man into his arms. “Other than you?”

Eddie barks a laugh at the line and shakes his head fondly. “Jesus Christ, how did I get my hands on such a dork?”

“Just lucky, I guess,” Steve replies, and tugs Eddie into another sticky kiss. 

Much love to @bramble-berries for brainstorming this with me! (Even if she didn't know it at the time lol.) Also thank you to @sidekick-hero for cheerleading me through the last bit of writing on this! You're an absolute dear! <3

#steddie #mentioned rockie and buckingham #steddie fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie fanfiction #people who subscribe on ao3 got this fic 6 hours early #just saying #joey writes

[campcampfanfan]

Let’s Talk About Camp Camp

Tw for Cursing, Camp Camp, All Caps

So, let’s talk about it. I’ve been browsing the Camp Camp tag, and I’m starting to see more “Don’t interact if you are/have a CC profile pic/ CC apologist/ CC fan” and I wanted to talk about it. 

Lets just start out by saying I am not a CC apologist. I do believe the show is heavily flawed, especially with it’s race jokes. Honestly, I am on the team of getting rid of those. Especially Dolph. Please, get rid of him. It’s really gone to far, and even though you have toned it down, please don’t really feature him anymore. Order of the Sparrow was heavily flawed as well, but let’s not talk about that right now. Let’s talk about why people are mad.

1) Race Jokes (Totally get it, you have every right to be mad)

2) Adult humor (It’s an adult show)

3) Bad plot/characters

For number 1, I completely get it. But, I’d like to state right here and now, nothing is fucking perfect. NOTHING. If we boycotted everything that was flawed in some way, or took a joke too far, or did something offensive, practically nothing would be available. Try boycotting Disney, they did tons of shit wrong multiple times. Most classic books. Pixar. The office. The all did the same thing, but for some reason, you aren’t mad. I get it, you don’t like the race jokes. Me neither, I hate them. Fuck them. But once again, this a young studio that is still doing trial and error. I can name maybe three shows that were made popular enough for me to see, and one year ago I only knew about RWBY. That’s it. They are doing Trial and Error, which means mistakes are going to be made, ESPECIALLY because it was their first adult themed show. I’m not saying you have to watch it, but please, don’t immediately try and block me because I watch this fucking show.

2, It’s a fucking ADULT SHOW. It’s not meant for kids! That doesn’t mean kids aren’t going to watch it, that just means they’ll do it in secret or something. If you don’t want to watch it because the humor is too adult or not what you like, you don’t have too! No problem! Have a fantastic day! But the problem is complaining that it has “Adult humor”. That’s the point, it’s an adult themed show.

For 3, got it. Don’t watch it. Plot’s terrible? Ok, don’t need to hate it because of that. Stupid characters? That’s fine, we like them. 

Point is, please stop with this whole “Camp Camp is horrible!” thing, because so many other companies that you watch do the exact same thing. I just want to enjoy my stupid ass show in peace, without hate getting thrown at me every time I browse the tag. I get it, you have every right to dislike it, but please don’t clog up our tag with hatred. Just let us enjoy our damn stupidity in peace.

#camp camp #CC rants #this sounded so mean #Please stop trying to make me feel bad for liking this show #Im litterally at a point of almost giving up this account #you have every right to dislike the show #But stop calling us names #I fucking hate Pewdiepie but I'm not out here being like I'll block you if you like him #Cant we all just get along?????

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

First request here! Im so excitedd lol 😆 may i request idia, cater, vil, deuce and azul (sep) with an s/o who knows nothing about technology? Like where they come from there are no videogames, no social media, no phones, etc. So naturally s/o is curious and asks the boys to help them learn more about it.

Curiouser and Curiouser...

Idia has no idea how you've even been ALIVE for this long without ANY tech whatsoever. (No anime? No video games? What madness is this?!) In fact, when you first tell him, he almost seems repulsed at the idea of your lifestyle before coming to NRC.

He makes it a personal mission to get you acquainted with all things tech, and takes great pride in doing so. Not only does his big brain come in handy, but he also gets to show off and help out his S/O at the same time. It's like killing three birds with one stone (... or getting a triple kill combo in a shoot'm up, in Idia's case).

He prioritizes showing you how to use touch screen devices and keyboards first, since those are relatively simple to grasp. Idia may be used to them, but he knows that you aren't, so he has to start small and build up in complexity.

As he teaches you, Idia comes to rediscover many of the things he once took for granted, like a phone camera's timer or how a fresh joystick makes satisfying clicks as it is maneuvered around. Seeing your face brighten with each new feature you learn helps Idia come to appreciate his tech--not to mention fall in love with you all over again.

Of course, Idia dedicates the most time to showing you how to play video games (since he wants to be able to play co-op and party games with you)! The controller's shape is unlike anything you've ever held before, so Idia has to take your hands in his to show you how to properly hold it. His hands are ice cold like the kiss of death itself, but they quickly warm up against you, much like his flaming hair and cheeks.

Cater's super sympathetic, cooing about how he feels bad for you! He practically puts his whole life on social media, so he can't imagine living any other way! The world just seems so much smaller without his phone in his hand--so how in the world must feel?

First thing's first! Before teaching you anything, Cater insists on taking a selfie. When you respond with a confused "what's a selfie and why are we taking one?", he gives a laugh and says it'll be a good way of documenting your tech journey. Not only that, but he wants to be your first (selfie)!

With Cater being... well, Cater, he's going to show you how to navigate Magicam ;9! He even helps you set up your own account, including your profile pic and description (which tags his account, declaring Cater as your boyfriend to the public~... while his description declares you as his S/O to his thousands of followers).

He also teaches you about what the best angles and lighting are for pics! Cater points out the various filters and other editing tools at your disposal, his smiling face hovering close to yours as he swipes through your options--and when he gives you that tender sideways glance, you 100% understand why people want to capture moments forever in photos.

You quickly grasp using a touch screen keyboard, but whenever you text him, he litters his responses with emojis--maybe to better express his feelings for you, maybe to just mess with you. Sometimes he just straight up sends nothing but emojis to see if you can decipher his message! But no matter what his motive is, those colorful texts spark joy in you every time you get a notification.

Certainly, it’s unusual that you’ve never come by modern technology before, but Vil considers himself well-equipped to teach you the ins and outs of it. There’s nothing wrong with your roots, but there’s also nothing wrong with expanding your horizons, either!

His approach is very “hands on”. Vil hands you a device and, after giving you a basic rundown of its functions, allows you to explore it. The first of Vil’s many tests is sitting down for a movie together (so you can learn the remote control’s buttons). You watch, totally mesmerized, as another Vil appears on the TV. No matter where you stop or start, he always looks so beautiful--both in person and on the screen. Vil catches you staring and smirks, the lights from the movie making him appear all the more dazzling.

Vil takes on the role of a strict and somewhat overprotective guardian as he guides you through the cesspit of social media. As a celebrity, he’s big on internet etiquette and watching what he says online, so he passes on that knowledge to you. No sharing of personal details, block what makes you uncomfortable, etc. (After all, he wants his beloved to be safe online!)

While Vil wants you to have fun online, he also reminds you to not become too immersed in social media--it’s only meant to be a temporary escape. Stay too long, and you might get wrapped up in FOMO, rather than enjoying what you already have.

Vil can’t just go around parading that he’s spoken for--it would unnecessarily expose you to the public eye, and could potentially put you in danger, so he asks that you don’t @ him on socials. That’s just the price he has to pay for his star status--besides, you’ll always have him to yourself in private, right?

While Deuce is initially surprised, he's very understanding of your situation! He knows that everyone comes from different circumstances, and he doesn't let that cloud his judgement of others or of their abilities much. You’ve looked past Deuce’s old self, so he’s able to look past your own oddities!

He worries about being an adequate tutor for you, since he isn't exactly the best student himself. Just like he feared, Deuce ends up being not the best at explaining things, even the simplest of commands. He just kind of... does something, then looks at you expectantly to copy him. (B-But hey, he’s trying!)

As you slowly start to get the hang of it, Deuce gets super excited and cheers you on! A slap on your shoulder or back, a high-five, a fist bump... It’s really cute how animated he gets with your steady progress, and it motivates you to keep improving!

When it comes to helping you set up your phone, Deuce gets oddly fidgety. Then, mid-lesson, he blurts out (with a beet red face) that he’d like to have your number so you can talk, even if you can’t see each other! Deuce sighs with relief when you give him the okay--and practically drops your phone five times while he nervously punches his number in and sends a text to himself to confirm.

If your devices ever get broken, Deuce lets you know you can bring them to him for a quick fix! At first, you’re super impressed by his technical prowess--but then you realize when Deuce says he’ll “fix” something, he actually means he’ll kick, punch, and chuck your device at the wall until it works again. (And surprisingly? It works most of the time.)

Azul understands your plight, though to a lesser degree. Back when he lived in the Coral Sea, he was limited in the technologies he could access, simply because some of them did not work in the waters. Now, he’s very comfortable with using land tech and scamming tutoring others--so leave it to him to teach you everything you need to know!

You report to Azul’s office after the usual hours of operation and sit next to him as he demonstrates the various tools of his trade on a laptop. This spreadsheet program to automatically calculate net gains and losses, what’s left in their stock, total and individual sales... this search engine to do market research... this custom website for sharing the lounge’s menu... It really makes you appreciate how hard-working and dedicated Azul is!

He generally focuses on showcasing the practical applications of technology, like setting alarms and timers, and typing down important events on a phone. Azul’s sure that you’ll find them useful in your daily life, from waking up on time for classes to setting aside weekends for your dates.

He does eventually introduce you to Magicam (if only to have you follow the Mostro Lounge’s page), as well as to Kelp, some underwater restaurant review site. With (fake) teary eyes, Azul begs for you to write a review (or two, or three, or ten) to help boost the lounge’s overall star rating--and in return, he’ll reward you with a romantic candlelit dinner with all your favorite foods~

As a special gift, Azul surprises you with a pair of blue light blocking glasses! He explains that being on a screen for too long can damage your eyes, so it’s best to take precautions to protect them. Azul slips your new glasses on for you, fingers lingering on your cheeks and cupping your face--holding his whole world in his hands.

#twst x reader #Azul Ashengrotto #Azul Ashengrotto x Reader #Vil Schoenheit #twisted wonderland headcanons #twst #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #Vil Schoenheit x Reader #Cater Diamond #Cater Diamond x Reader #Idia Shroud x Reader #Idia Shroud #Deuce Spade #Deuce Spade x Reader #curiouser and curiouser #self insert #Reader

[seiijohhh]

the slow demise [1/?]

summary: He’d found you coated in blood, surrounded by death, and decided then and there, you were perfect. pairing: megumi fushiguro x f!gojo!reader a/n: this has been reposted from my original account @justauthoring​ -- so, if you recognize it, that’s why. im also tagging those who originally requested to be tagged in it, so they know where to find future parts. tags: @thatprofessionalfangirl - @sugarandsoft - @honeyy-honeyy-sweets - @strawberryflavoredjeans - @flowersbloominthedark - @juliajempire​ - @princess-bumblebee - @sageandberries-png - @yue-caelum - @a–nonymousse - @aryksworld - @godsentkita​ - @kat-su-ki

part one - part two - part three - part four

“This is a hundred percent your fault.”

Deadpanned, Fushiguro glowers down at you. “How is this my fault.”

“Dunno,” you shrug, stretching your arms above your head with an exaggerated sigh, making sure to keep your eyes trained on Fushiguro. Your intent is to make him feel guilty (even if he is right, it isn’t his fault) but that’s far easier said then done. The boy’s as stoic as ever. “Just is.”

“It was about time you came back to the school anyway,” Fushiguro huffs, and you blink slightly at the somewhat distressed tone of his voice – that was definitely off.

He doesn’t let you dwell on it very long before he’s walking off ahead of you, glancing around the rugby field the both of you found yourselves on. Purely because of curse power that basically reeked from it.

“I never was part of Jujutsu High School,” you cut in, rushing to catch up with him. “So I wouldn’t be returning. I’m not returning.” He turns to look at you, to which you glare at him, hoping that’ll make it perfectly clear. But he merely shrugs, not even bothering to respond to you, turning back to the field.

Huffing, you cross your arms over your chest, glancing down just as a curse pops beneath the veil, gurgling and groaning, before disappearing from sight once more. “What’s with this rugby field anyway?” You call out, turning to look over your shoulder at Fushiguro whose gone off the other direction. “Is there a dead body buried here or something?”

“Even if there is,” Fushiguro mumbles, and you turn to see the same curse from before climbing up a pole, “I’m surprised to see one this high-leveled. It’s probably a grade two curse.” Then, meeting your eyes, he frowns. “Must be that cursed objects influence.”

Shuffling on your feet slightly, you glance up at it; “should we exorcise it?”

“Nah,” Fushiguro shrugs, walking past you and up the steps from the field.

Frowning, you glance back at the curse before moving to catch up with Fushiguro. “Why not? It could hurt somebody, the schools littered with stupid teenagers all day.”

“Nobodies walking on this field,” he gestures to the sign in front of him. “Not for a long time anyway.”

Eyeing the sign the blocks off the entrance to the rugby field, reading the words ‘No Unauthorized Entry’, you shrug. You were just tagging along because he forced you to, no need to put in anymore effort then necessary if Fushiguro wasn’t going to.

“Still, it’s presence is too strong to pin down. It feels like it’s close by, but it could still be far away, too. This special-grade curse is really a pain.”

Glancing over the boys shoulder at the photo of the curse he’d been provided, you raise a brow; “it’s been moved, right?” Fushiguro nods, “who could’ve been stupid enough to move it? And where is it now?”

“I have–”

“Over here! Coach Takagi is taking on Itadori from West Middle.”

“Woah, what are they competing for?”

Blinking at the new, bolstering voices, your head turns in the direction before your eyes gleam with excitement. Now, this is what you called exciting. Tugging on the sleeve of Fushiguro’s shirt, you turn to him with a gleam in his eyes; “we have to watch, Megumi!”

“We should really look for the–”

But you’re already pulling him along by the wrist, barely giving him any time to argue further, making it just in time to see what you assume is the coach previously mentioned lugging a weighted ball across the field. He throws it a respective distance, eyes lighting up with excitement as he cheers himself on in celebration.

“Fourteen meters!”

“Oooh,” you sing, clasping your hands in front of you.

Fushiguro eyes you, “what’s so exciting about track and field?”

Turning to him, you laugh; “it’s so…. simple!”

“Simple?”

“Yeah!” You nod eagerly. “I mean, we train every day, exercise curses every other day, but everyone here,” you gesture around you to the kids the exact same age as you, “has no idea and is living a perfectly normal teenage kid’s life. It’s… It’s amazing.”

You’re back to the scene before you, eyes caught by a shade of bright pink, that you don’t notice Fushiguro’s wandering gaze. You’d said it all with a smile on your face, but Fushiguro couldn’t help but notice the absolute longing in your gaze as you watched.

His attention, however, is caught by the growing volume of the crowd as they all cheer on ‘Itadori’ – the boy with pink hair and lanky arms that nearly topples over when the weighted ball is dropped into his hands. However, he swings it with ease and your jaw all but drops when it tosses it as if it weighed nothing, soaring through the air.

“Uh, roughly thirty meters.”

You turn to Fushiguro with a blank expression; “that wasn’t simple.”

All Fushiguro can do is nod.

“Or normal.”

Tugging you forward, Fushiguro and you come to a stop in front of the boy and who can assume is his friends. Knowing Fushiguro is doing the same, you pause, eyeing the boy.

“No curse energy.”

You nod, “pretty amazing.”

“I wonder if he’s like Zen’in-senpai.”

You shrug; “maybe.”

“Well, c’mon,” he sets a hand against your back, gently guiding you forward, “we should start looking for the–”

“Megumi!”

Pulling him back and out of the way from the approaching steps, your head turns in time just to see the boy from before, Itadori, racing past the both of you, with incredible speed. However, it’s the sharp shock of cursed energy you feel the second he runs past and the pair of eyes that seem to stare deep within your sole that have you gasping for air, blinking in surprise.

“Hey! You!” Fushiguro calls, obviously having sensed the same thing, but it’s hopeless – the boys too quick.

“Y/N,” Fushiguro calls, setting a hand on your back as you press your own against your chest. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, shaking your head. “I’m fine.” Then, meeting his eyes, you glance in the direction Itadori had run off. “Are you going to follow him?”

“Try to, at least,” he huffs, shoving his hands in his pockets. “You felt it too, yeah?”

“Nearly took my breath away,” you sigh, “but I think I should stay here.”

His brows furrow; “why?”

“I can still sense it here.”

Fushiguro frowns, glancing in the direction of the boy before back at you, lips pursed and worry clear in his gaze. He may pretend not to care, but it’s moments like these the truth bleeds through.

Shaking your head, you huff; “go.” You nod at him, “I’ll be fine. It’s not like I have been sitting on my ass these past months,” you tease lightly, sending him a wink but Fushiguro continues to just stare down at you, causing you to sigh.

“I’ll call you the second something shows up.”

He nods, content, moving to walk off.

“But Megumi?”

He glances back at you, brow raised.

“You call too, okay?” And at the look he sends you, you keep your face impassive, nodding; “the second something happens.”

With a simple nod, he’s off.

-

You really should’ve trained more.

“Fuck!”

Ignoring the pang that radiates throughout your entire body, and the blood that fades into your vision, you push yourself up, pressed against the wall. Originally, you’d thought that you’d be able to control the curse for just long enough that it’d let go of the two students it was trying to swallow and then you’d focus on getting the curse.

Fushiguro would scold you – tell you that getting the curse was the first priority, but you could stomach the thought of sacrificing lives just for a single finger. Even if that finger was one part of a whole to an incredibly strong, the strongest of all, King of Curses, Sukuna…

None of it really matter however – the finger was making the curse stronger, and you could barely control it for a second before you’d been flung back by your own power. Now, both kids and the finger were about to be swallowed, and you had no idea what to do.

And your phone had been crushed long ago that you had no way of contacting Fushiguro. You had no idea where he was or if he’d be coming back; which meant you were utterly and completely alone.

Ducking from a hit made directly for your head, you slipped past, sliding your hand along the body of the curse, infusing it with your curse power. You used speed you didn’t know you could still have with a pounding head and blurring vision, pointing your left point finger up, the right down, thumbs connection; “Cursed Technique; Domination: The Imprisonment Of One!” before flipping your hands.

The curse stops, your heart thumping and chest panging, but you can barely focus on that when you need to move fast. Rushing forward, you slide to your hip, moving to strike your hand up. And you land a good hit, moving to grab the girl first, before something wraps around your ankle, and pulls you up and away before flinging you across the hall.

You smack into the ground, rolling, your chest seizing as the wind is knocked out of you. Your vision darkens for a moment, and you think you’re going to pass out, but the pain is all too conscious and you realize with a huff that your ankle has been sprained with how it had thrown you.

“Fuck!” You call again, putting all strength in your hands to sit up.

“Y/N!”

Relief floods you almost instantly. You may be half awake, but you’d recognize that voice from anywhere. Hands land on you, and a small smile curls onto your lips almost subconsciously when you find Fushiguro staring down at you. His eyes flicker across your entire body taking in the blood and wounds, before meeting your eyes.

“It’s strong,” you huff, voice raspy, “I can’t hold it and fight.”

Glancing back, Fushiguro growls; “it’s trying to swallow her along with the cursed object?”

“I can hold it,” you call, grabbing his arm and squeezing, pulling his eyes back on you.

“Y/N, you can barely–”

“Just go! I can do it,” you interrupt, voice sharp, “you just have to–”

You’re interrupted by the sound of glass shattering, and before you know it a blur of familiar pink is flickering across your eyes once more. Your eyes widen when you realize it’s the boy from before, Itadori. What the hell was he doing here?

“Itadori!” Fushiguro calls, just as stunned as you. He moves to a stand in front of you, blocking you from sight, and huffing, you lean forward, trying to find the strength to stand.

He grabs the two students, pulling them from the curses grasp, making your eyes bulge in surprise – how did he…?

“So, this is a cruse? Not what I was expecting.”

Pushing yourself to a stand, ignoring the way your ankle throbs, you grab Fushiguro firm around the arm; “Megumi, what the hell is he doing here?”

Sighing, Fushiguro shakes his head; “it’s a long story.” And with a final glance forward, he steps towards the curse, exorcising with one more simple hit since it no longer has the finger so close in it’s grasp, before he moves towards Itadori.

“Honestly,” you huff quietly to yourself, “I leave him alone for a few hours and he’s already dragging an innocent kid into this.”

“I want to ask you what you’re doing here,” Fushiguro calls to him, his demon dogs snacking on the curse behind him, “but good job.”

“Not good job,” you growl, leaning on the wall for support as you glare at the two boys, specifically Itadori; “you could’ve gotten seriously injured,” you ignore the pointed look Fushiguro sends you, “or worse, killed.”

“Why so haughty?” The boy tilts his head; “by the way, what’s that munching on the curse?”

“My shikagami,” Fushiguro answers, shoving his hands in his pockets. “You can see them, then? Normally a curse can’t be seen. Not unless you’re on the verge of death or in special places like this.”

“Oh,” Itadori’s lips part in understanding; “I’ve never seen a ghost or anything before tonight.”

Lips parted, you eye the boy; “you’re not scared?”

“Well, I was scared for a bit,” he answers honestly, still holding his classmate in his arms. “But did you know? People really can die.”

“Y/N, help me!”

“Please. Y/N, stop…!”

“I… I–I can’t–I don’t–!”

Blinking, you force the memory away, shaking your head.

“Huh?”

“So I at least want the people I know to have proper deaths.”

“You’re killing us!”

Pressing your hand against the wall, your breath hitches, Fushiguro turning to you in concern briefly before turning back to Itadori as moves to stand; “not that I really get it myself.” And as he does, the curse slips from his classmate’s skirt pocket, catching it with ease reflexes; “this it?”

“Yeah,” Fushiguro nods, “that’s the special-grade cursed object, Ryomen Sukuna’s finger. It’s a miracle it didn’t get swallowed, though, I think that’s mainly thanks to Y/N,” both eyes fall on you, to which you offer a half-smile.

“Why would anything eat it?” Is the first question that leaves Itadori’s lips, “is it tasty?”

“Don’t be stupid,” you cut in, shaking your head, “you’d do it to gain stronger cursed energy.”

“It’s dangerous,” Fushiguro adds, holding his palm out; “so hand it over already.”

“Sure, sure.”

You notice it a second too late, the curse from above.

“Megumi–!”

You move to pull him back, just as he pushed Itadori out of the way, but the sudden weight on your ankle causes you to lose balance and instead, the hand from above crashes directly onto Megumi. Dust and debris make everything blurry for a moment, but the huge curse holding Megumi is easy to spot as your eyes widen in panic.

“Megumi!”

“Fushiguro!”

It pulls Megumi to it’s mouth, but Fushiguro makes quick hand signs, calling for another one of his shikagami; Nue. However, before he can, a burst of lightening flashes from the curse and he’s slammed against the wall, blood splurting from his lips. Heart racing, you move to stand once more, cursing the way your ankle throbs and throws you off balance once more.

Before you know it, the curse is breaking a hole through the concrete and sending Fushiguro flying through it.

“No…” Teeth clenching, you turn to Itadori who looks torn between helping you and rushing after Fushiguro.

“Go!” You call, shaking your head and ignoring the worry in your chest; you were the one to scold Fushiguro for bring an innocent kid into this fight and now you were sending him off to save your comrade. But this was the only option. Fushiguro wouldn’t last on his own, so, if Itadori could just hold off the curse long enough for you to get your bearings, it’d be okay. “Help him! Please!”

Itadori doesn’t need another word otherwise.

“Get up!” You call to yourself, the bangs and commotion from outside causing your heart soar. “No one else dies because of you, remember? That was your promise!”

Forcing yourself to your feet, you ignore the pang and force the other foot to step in front of you the other. It takes you a minute, but when you look out the gaping hole in the wall and get a good look at what’s happened; you can tell you’d made a severe error in judgement.

“There is a way to save everyone!”

He can’t be serious…

“I just need some cursed energy, right, Fushiguro?”

He really is.

He just… ate Sukuna’s finger…

You just cost a boy his life…

Then, a flash of cursed energy burst from him, ripping the curses hands to shreds, and your eyes widen. It couldn’t be possible. That was rare, incredibly rare…

But the markings that start to cover his skin and the cursed energy pooling around him tell you otherwise.

Itadori… no, Sukuna destroys the curse in one hit.

His laugh echoes, even from where you’re stood, his claws clear as day to your eyes, you’re unable to look away. “I knew it!” He laughs, his voice more deep, twisted then Itadori’s; “the light feels best in the flesh!” Shredding his hoody into pieces without any effort, Sukuna races towards the edge of the roof, glancing at the open area. “A cursed spirit’s flesh is so boring. Where are the people? The women?!

“What a wonderful era to be in. Women and children are crawling everywhere like maggots. Wonderful! It’ll be a massacre!”

But then he’s pulled back, a hand gripping his own jaw, feet stammering backwards; “what do you think you’re doing with my body? Give it back.”

It’s Itadori’s voice.

“How are you able to move?” Sukuna.

“I mean, it’s my body.” Itadori.

“Don’t move,” Fushiguro calls out, voice sharp; “you’re no longer human.” And he crouches, hands moving to make the necessary signs. “Under Jujutsu regulations, Itadori Yuji, I will exorcise you as a curse!”

“Wait, Megumi–!”

You’re suddenly picked up in a pair of arms, a flash of white and purple, before, somehow, you’re behind Fushiguro.

“What’s the situation?”

Turning to the person carrying you, you glower when you realize it’s him.

“Gojo-sensei?! Why are you here?”

Setting you down carefully, he smiles at Fushiguro; “hey! I wasn’t planning on coming, but man,” his eyes drift from you to Fushiguro, “you’re both roughed up. I should show the second years.” He starts to take pictures, specifically of Fushiguro, to which you slap him sharply on the arm.

Huffing, you glare up at him; “never mind that, I’ve told you to stop doing that with me!”

“Sorry, sorry,” he waves you off, “but you looked a little stuck.”

Flushing, you turn away from him.

“The higher-ups wouldn’t shut up with a special-grade cursed object gone missing,” he moves to explain, “so I stopped by while doing some sightseeing. So, did you find it?”

“Um,” Itadori slowly speaks up, raising his hand as Gojo turns to him; “sorry, but I ate it.”

There’s a pause, then; “for real.”

And all at once, all three of you answer; “for real.”

Gently letting go of you, Gojo sets you against the rock the Fushiguro’s leaning on, and you notice the way your vision blurs in response, dark peering in around the edges, before blinking it away and focusing on Gojo. He’s stepped towards Itadori, leaning forward with his head in his hands, eyeing him closely.

After a moment, he lets out a laugh; “damn, it really did combine with you. That’s hilarious.” He steps back, as nonchalant as ever. “Anything off with your body?”

Looking at his arm, Itadori shrugs; “not particularly.”

“Can you swap out with Sukuna?”

Your eyes widen.

“Sukuna?”

“The curse you ate.”

“Oh,” Itadori shuffles on his feet, “yeah, I think I can do that.”

You really, at this point, shouldn’t be surprise.

Moving away for more room, Gojo lowers into a crouch, stretching out; “then, give us ten seconds. Once ten seconds are up, come back to us.”

“But…” Itadori tries to argue.

“Don’t worry,” Gojo calls out with a smug grin, “I’m the strongest.”

“Megumi,” he calls out, “hold this.”

He tosses the bag that’s been in his hands this entire time, and, falling to a seat next Fushiguro, you curiously peek in.

“What is it?”

“Kikifuki from Kikusuian,” he explains, still stretching, and your eyes dull. “It’s Sendai’s specialty, and it’s super good. I recommend the zunda and cream flavour.”

“You went out and bought mochi while people nearly died!” You call, glaring at him.

“It’s not a souvenir, and it’s not just mochi,” he turns to grin at you and Fushiguro, “I’m going to eat it on the bullet train home.”

Yeah, and I think I’m going to throw up.

“Behind you!”

Gojo is barely phased by Fushiguro’s call, and even as Sukuna gains on him he continues to explain; “Kikufuku’s not like other souvenirs…” Before there’s a crash, dust flooding your already wobbling vision. Fushiguro pushes you behind him, arm outstretched as you both prepare for impact, only for you to open your eyes and see Sukuna directly before you, Gojo sitting on him.

“And the whipped cream inside is simply exquisite…”

You can’t focus on the fight. Things start to fade and the sounds of a fight almost seem like it’s miles away. Your skin feels hot, sweat beading on it, and the edges of your vision is turning black; except this time it isn’t fading away. You feel tired, extremely so, all strength fading. You don’t hear Fushiguro call for you, nor do you feel your body falling.

It’s okay though, right?

After all, despite how annoying he can be, you know you can trust Gojo…

He really is the strongest.

A little girl covered in red, coated in it.

Bodies surround her. Torn, ripped apart, limbs apart from bodies, heads apart from bodies.

Everything is silent except for the sound of wailing.

Loud, screaming wailing. Sobs retching, coughs echoing, but the girl doesn’t move, even as she sobs.

She’s frozen in place.

Terrifed.

“I can help you, don’t you trust me?”

“What’s this? Who are you?”

“So little to be covered in so much blood.”

“How about I train you, huh?”

“I’ll help you control them.”

“All of them.”

-

Eyes blinking open, you frown at the familiar ceiling above you.

You were home. Or at least, your room. It didn’t feel like home to you, but the soft cushion beneath you was definitely comforting with the lasting panging in your head.

Raising your arm, you glance at yourself, the faint bruises, before pushing yourself up so you’re sitting. A small groan leaves your lips, but you ignore the pain, pulling back the sheets to glance at your ankle; it’s been wrapped and treated, but you’re sure that if you were to try and walk on it, it’d still hurt.

You were alive, but you hated being stuck bedridden.

Head falling, you sigh; you wonder what happened with Itadori and Sukuna–

“I’m visiting Y/N.”

“Oooh! I want to say hi, I never properly introduced myself.”

Clearly, he was still alive.

Eyes flickering over to your bedroom door, you simply smile as Fushiguro pops his head in, making sure you’re awake before inviting himself further inside. Itadori bops in after him excitedly, a happy grin on his face despite his scenario which you could only imagine, and of course; Gojo behind the two, smiling down at you.

“Glad to see you both okay,” you smile softly at the two, eyes lingering on Fushiguro’s a little longer.

“You gave us a quite a scare,” Gojo comments, leaning against the frame of your door. “Passing out like that.”

Rubbing the back of your neck abashedly, you let out a small laugh, flushing slightly at the intense look Fushiguro regards you with. “Guess I hit my head harder then I thought,” you mumble, “sorry…”

There’s an echo of silence, and hating it, you hurriedly turn to Itadori.

Sticking your hand out, you grin; “Y/N Gojo,” you laugh at the wide look in his eyes, “it looks like you and me are classmates.”

But honestly, the widened looks on both Satoru and Fushiguro are way better.

“What?” You call to Fushiguro who hasn’t stopped staring at you; “I’d miss all the fun if I didn’t come back to school now.”

And at that, Fushiguro lets a small smile curl onto his lips, Gojo clapping his hands like a small child as he calls out cheerfully “I knew you’d change your mind!” all while Itadori continues to stare at you blankly.

“Gojo?”

#jjk #jjk imagine #jjk x reader #jjk series #the slow demise #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jujutsu kaisen x reader #megumi fushiguro #megumi fushiguro imagine #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi fushiguro x you #fushiguro megumi #fushiguro megumi imagine #megumi imagine #megumi x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru imagine #imagine #imagines #my fics #series

[vampyrly]

: / i need any help and/or validation for a situation im dealing with

ok heads up this is going to be potentially very long to read and get through, like possibly 10 minutes at most but it is detailed and information heavy, i dont want to leave anything out

if anyone knows me/knows me on twitter and has seen my tweets where i've detailed the bullshit my roommate has done in the past you'll know i dont particularly like their presence based on their immature and gross antics. well ladies and gentlemen just when i thought they couldn't possibly sink any lower as a person, they pulled through the shit olympics and won gold.

my roommate has a cat, they had it prior to moving in and on their account the cat has been by their side 24/7. it is very attached and has most definitely developed a form of separation anxiety because of this. there hasnt been an issue with how often they stay with their cat up until recently... their girlfriend got her own apartment and over the past few months my rm has been staying with her 24/7. as in, is practically never in the apartment. they only come back to refill their cats food/water and is immediately out the door again. occasionally they will sleep overnight but after that they are back out the door.

as anyone who understands cats or animals in general would realize, this is essentially neglecting a cat, one you have gone from being with every day, to essentially never seeing. and this was not gradual, it was a damn near sudden change. you can probably imagine this is putting a lot of confusion and stress on the cat. over time, the cat has reacted more physically. they have become prone to crying by the door, biting the gf's toes, glaring at her (i guess), and such.

now, about a week ago, the cat had bitten my roommate incredibly hard to the point of drawing a lot of blood. apparently this was so traumatic to the rm that they now refuse to even be in the same room with the cat (there have only been a handful of times where they've slipped into the room to grab an essential and shimmy back out) so much so that they brought an air mattress, set it up in the living room, and is now temporarily sleeping there. no, im not joking.

now im not going to go into detail about why this buildup from the cat occurred, i think it should be pretty obvious already why, but to my rm, they fully believe this behavior is aggressive and unusual. as in, this cat had malicious, negative intent to do harm on its owner. its owner which, up until months ago, they were so attached to and clearly loved. as a friend has pointed out, this isnt signaling aggression. this is signaling a need to get attention in any way possible. their own cat had scratched them up so bad to the point they almost had to go to the ER, but it wasnt because the cat was aggressive, it just thought it was playtime! the case is different here yes, because unlike my rm the friend actually takes care and gives attention to their cat, so this was a very rare occurrence. simply put, this cat is lacking so much stimulation, attention, and basic interaction that this, to me, felt like a last resort. because clearly, the constant cries of sadness wasnt doing anything for them. they're currently in the process of rehoming the cat and will permanently ditch it on the 28th. thats still another 5 fucking days of this cat being in these neglected conditions, and thats not counting when this started, which was 17th, 18th if were being generous on account of me misremembering the date of events because who can blame me so much has already happened its becoming difficult to keep track.

a cat that they up until this point loved and gave attention to as apparent by them claiming she is for emotional support, is being thrown out of their life without remorse over one instance of """aggression""" (dont make me explain why it wasnt again.)

my roommate knows full and well that they have every ability and every second on their hands to bring the cat with them to the gf's apartment but guess what? they simply choose not to do so! i guess those toes getting bitten was so traumatic because oh yeah may i add, the girlfriend is a massive enabler of the roommate and sees absolutely no issue to the actions they are taking in response. i doubt they even tried to properly warm the cat up to a person who is a newcomer to the relationship. im sure they both think in their heads that this is the most responsible thing they can do as pet owners and that they're such good people for rehoming a cat they cant take care of anymore. yes, nothing more responsible than neglecting an animal that needs social interaction as much as that one in particular is in dire need of. responsible pet owners would have never let it escalate to such a point, i'll have you know.

my roommate has done a lot of bullshit that has made me want to pull my hair out, but at the very least, it didnt involve a living creature. this however draws a line as i refuse to stand for animal neglect simply because im an outsider and have no direct say in the situation. i've taken as much action as i possibly can, phoning and texting and emailing as many people as i possibly can. i hesitate to say this is straight up animal abuse because as firm as i can be i try to give people the benefit of the doubt BUT. i will say that every single person i have relayed all of this info to thus far has told me that this is grounds for animal abuse.

yesterday i ran into my rm and they told me "heyyy sorry about her crying constantly, its just not possible for me to be in there whatsoever!" and when i asked if they have someone refilling the bowls and litter on their behalf they said "nope just me" ????????? simultaneously on the same day i said fuck it, i am going to break out the secret key i have to their room to check on the cat. yes i have a key to their room, i have never used it until now and if you want to ignore everything thus far to give me some shit about trust or whatever consider: i dont fucking care. as it turns out the food and water bowls are the type that automatically refill. so, hmmm. theres that part out of the way, but of course, you cannot put in a machine to automatically interact with a cat on the level of a human. as for the litter, i couldnt see since i didnt step more than a foot into the room as to not impede boundaries on the cat and i didnt want my roommate to suddenly come home to me knees deep in their shithole. it was probably in the closet but then how is that being cleaned? those automatic cleaning cat litter boxes dont come cheap and i know damn well they cannot afford one. and may i just add as a tidbit, the room has a sitting scent of pee. though seeing as how gross my roommate can get im betting its just them and not the cat. also that room was cold as fuck. were at 60-70s right now in terms of weather right now it does not need to be that cold......

here is a video i was able to capture. i mounted my phone on a monopod in order to get a scope of the room without stepping in too far.

i decided that the least i can do at the moment is to head out to dollar tree and get a toy or two so i can at least provide some amount of stimulation. before i left, i checked on her again.

she was just laying there, keeping her distance, and didnt lurch at me whatsoever. i came back with a feather wand and played with her for a couple of minutes. she responded a little to it, but for the most part she was peering out the door wondering where the hell her so called responsible owner was. i took my sweater off and let the cat sniff it. i have zero relationship with this cat, infact its the first time i've ever properly seen it as it is locked in the bedroom 24/7.

now you may be asking yourself, why is this cat locked away in a room 24/7 like rapunzel locked in her tower and not roaming freely in the open apartment? i too would like an answer to this! i rarely spend any time in the living room but even if i did i have NO issue with it chilling in there.

someone i phoned did bring up a good point that for AS to consider a legitimate case of abuse or even do anything, there'd need to be no food or water. so essentially, unless you're straight up physically harming an animal outside of their headquarters they dont fucking care. want to be proven further on that? my rm actually did speak with AS at the start of bite-saga. surprisingly they werent 100% truthful, and, get a load of this, they told them that the cat potentially has a virus, and that they need to be quarantined the entire 2 week period. thats some lying bullshit if i've ever heard some!!! not only that, just a few hours ago i peeped the girlfriend had the vet get back to them about lending a muzzle!

SO. heres the current situation as of today and what will occur to tomorrow: i finally phoned someone who is going to drop by the apartment tomorrow, potentially with another person (these are not random people, im simply keeping their status as anonymous as possible to maintain their privacy) to check on the cats conditions. they'll also call AS again and nudge the rm in a way where it seems AS needs them to expedite the surrendering process sooner than later. i cant imagine another 5 days of this going on, but theres only so much that can be done that doesnt involve me straight up catknapping the poor thing and rehoming her myself. this is the condition of the cat as of a few hours ago:

if i were someone uninvolved and saw this, i would have assumed she were a stray that broke into the room........

i try not to be petty and villainous, but a line has been crossed and the disgusting mistreatment of an innocent creature is a crime i refuse to allow be sweeped under the rug. if theres any benefit to living in a relatively small town, its that everyone knows or at least recognizes everyone. far too many people already get away with animal abuse, at the very least i can make as many people here as aware of their antics as i can. is that wrong to do? should i not air all that i can out about them? im so tired and exhausted. i've lost so much sleep over this and im probably going to lose a lot more. thanks for reading.

#cw animal abuse #animal cruelty #pet health

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

But You Can Never Leave [Chapter 3: Signed In Blood]

Series summary: You are an overwhelmed and disenchanted nurse in Boston, Massachusetts. Queen is an eccentric British rock band you’ve never heard of. But once your fates intertwine in the summer of 1974, none of your lives will ever be the same...

This series is a work of fiction, and is (very) loosely inspired by real people and events. Absolutely no offense is meant to actual Queen or their families.

Song inspiration: Hotel California by The Eagles.

Chapter warnings: Language, physical frailty, sneaky foreshadowing.

Chapter list (and all my writing) available HERE

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii​ @loveandbeloved29​ @killer-queen-xo​ @maggieroseevans​ @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark​ @im-an-adult-ish​ @queenlover05​ @someforeigntragedy​ @imtheinvisiblequeen​ @joemazzmatazz​ @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye​ @namelesslosers​ @inthegardensofourminds​ @deacyblues​ @youngpastafanmug​ @sleepretreat​

Please yell at me if I forget to tag you! :)

The cashier blinks at you as he scans the items in your basket: two Cokes, an orange juice, a Mountain Dew, a grape Fanta, a box of Ritz crackers, a KitKat, three packs of cherry Pop Rocks, and assorted bags of Lay’s chips. “You must have, like, a lot of kids.”

“Something like that.”

Terminal E of Logan International Airport is bustling with swiftly-moving businessmen dragging rolling suitcases, tidy-looking flight attendants, careening toddlers and frazzled mothers. The band is waiting at the gate; their plane to Heathrow is scheduled to board in thirty minutes. Our plane, you correct yourself. I’m going too.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, I ran out of paper bags but I can check in the back if you want—”

“Oh no,” you protest, slapping a ten-dollar bill onto the counter and gathering up the snacks. You’ve cultivated a stubborn solidarity with your fellow service industry employees. “That’s cool, I’ve got it. Thanks. Have a great day!”

“You too! Good luck with your kids!”

You laugh as you trot away. Yes, my very large, extremely anarchic British children. You could have sent Freddie and Rog for the snacks, but you don’t trust them not to try to steal something and end up getting strip-searched by TSA; Brian is still too weak to go anywhere alone; and John...well, John dissolves into blood-red cheeks and averted eyes if you ask him anything. You weave through the crowded terminal, shifting your arms to keep the snacks centered.

“Wow, you have your hands full there!”

You peer around the heap to see a businessman in a powder blue suit, neatly combed black hair, mid-thirties, benign smile. Your arms are beginning to ache. “Ha, yeah. I guess I do.”

“Need some help?” he asks, still smiling.

“Oh, thank you so much, but I’ve got it—”

“Nonsense.” He cheerfully plucks the chips and Pop Rocks out of your grasp. “Where are we going?”

Oh no. You know this type of man. He’s the guy who flirts with the nurses while his wife is recovering from a gallbladder removal, who tries to impress you with his mid-level accounting job and Marshall Field's neckties, who obliviously—or worse, forcefully—offers assistance when it’s least desired. He’s the type to play superhero so he can get a taste of what it feels like to be someone who matters. He’s not usually dangerous, but he is viperous if his fantasy gets interrupted, bitter and desperate and striking out like a wounded animal. Jesus christ, I do not have time for this bullshit today. The muscles in your forearms are screaming now. “Seriously, I can handle it. Thank you. Can I get my snacks back? My friends are waiting.”

His smile falters; suddenly, Mr. Aspiring Superman doesn’t seem so benign at all. And you can’t help but notice that his grip around your criminally overpriced airport snacks doesn’t loosen. Oh fucking hell. “What the hell’s wrong with you? Are you stupid or something? Don’t you get it, I’m trying to help—”

“Hey, baby!” chimes a voice from nowhere. An arm appears around your shoulders, pulling you in; John lands a series of kisses across your neck and jawline as the businessman gawks, speechless and horrified. “Did you finish shopping? Oh, you remembered my Coke! Thanks, baby. You’re the best. Come on, they’re gonna start boarding soon...” He stops, stares at the businessman, points with narrowed steely grey eyes: “Are those my Pop Rocks?”

“Uh, uh, yeah, uh...” The man hastily shoves the snacks into John’s hands and flees. John immediately backs away from you, clears his throat, casts his eyes down the opposite end of the airport terminal.  

“Oh my god,” you say, stunned. “I’ve never heard you talk that much at once. Ever.”

He flushes and combs his agile fingers through his hair. “Yeah, I’m so sorry, I just thought...I saw that he was...I figured that would get him to piss off without causing a scene...I’m sorry, I don’t know why I did that, I—”

“No, John, seriously, that was brilliant. Thank you.”

“Yeah?” And you think you can detect something in his voice like hope: cautious, fragile hope. More than that, you can still feel his lips against your skin, hot and sure and assertive, almost dominating.

You grin over at him as you walk together towards the gate. “I bet everyone thinks you’re real innocent because you’re the shy, quiet, mysterious one or whatever. But you have some serious game under all of that, don’t you?”

John chuckles out of pure shock, still not looking at you. “I doubt it.”

“I’m onto you, bassist. Those groupies aren’t going to know what hit them.”

Wait, he has a girlfriend, isn’t that what Freddie said? But if he does, John doesn’t correct you.

“Do I see my beloved Pop Rocks?!” Roger squeals when he spies you both. John tosses all three packets to him. Roger rips one open, pours the entirety of the contents into his mouth, then motions for you to pass him the can of grape Fanta. He gulps the Fanta and drums his palms against his thighs as his mouth erupts into sugary explosions.

“Majestic,” you comment.

“Wha...?! I will not be outdone!” Freddie seizes all the remaining Pop Rocks—both packs—and empties them into his mouth, then douses them with Coke. Dark fizzing soda and ruby crystals spew out of his nose. Roger throws back his head and cackles like a hyena as John launches balled-up napkins at Freddie. You ignore them and check on Brian, who is lounged sideways across five seats.

“How you doing, Bri?”

He groans in reply. You give him the orange juice and Ritz crackers.

“Eat, please, Bri.”

“I can’t. I’m dying.”

“You aren’t bloody dying!” Freddie sighs, exasperated, still mopping Coke off his face.

You lay the back of your hand against Brian’s forehead and frown. “You’re burning up, Mr. May.”

“I’ve got aspirin somewhere...” Roger says as he rummages through his luggage.

“He can’t have it. His liver’s still recovering, no over-the-counter meds.” You take two still-cold cans—your Mountain Dew and Bri’s orange juice—and press them to Brian’s cheeks. John, without speaking, lays his Coke against the back of Brian’s neck. “Think you can make it through a six-hour flight?”

Brian’s glassy eyes roam to you. “No offense, but I would literally rather be disemboweled by rabid opossums than spend another night in Boston.”

“Opossums very rarely contract rabies. But your point is noted. We’ll get you home.”

“Thank you,” Brian breathes, drained. “And thank you, John.”

“Not a problem.”

Freddie squats in front of Bri in skin-tight jeans littered with patches, brushes the mess of curls off Brian’s forehead, and pushes a Ritz cracker into his mouth. Brian grimaces but chews it reluctantly. Freddie grins. “You must be truly desperate to trust your wellbeing to Deaky.”

“He’s unexpectedly ferocious,” you warn Brian. “He ran off some creep at the snack stand. Kid could definitely murder you if he tried.”

“Yeah? Well done, Deaks!” Roger gives John a high-five, then aggressively ruffles his hair and growls. “Who’s my favorite little killer bassist?! Grrr. Grrrrrrrrr. Come on. Show me them pearly whites, Mack the Knife.”

John chomps at Roger’s hands in his very best impression of a shark. Roger laughs and yanks teasingly at John’s hair, his face lit up like the Boston Harbor on the Fourth of July.

The next time you look for Freddie, he’s disappeared. You finally spot him several seats away, bent over a notebook and scribbling furiously, snapping his fingers over and over again and murmuring to himself: “Killer bassist...killer woman...killer bitch...killer queen.”

~~~~~~~~~~

When boarding begins, Freddie and Roger practically carry Brian onto the plane. They drop him into a window seat and Brian promptly drapes a sweater over his head and falls asleep. You sit beside him and flip through a fashion magazine you found in the pocket on the back of the chair in front of you, but Roger keeps interrupting by ranking the pictured outfits on a scale of one to eleven.

“Why eleven?”

“Because I gave that neon yellow coat three pages ago a ten, but now I like these rainbow pants even more. So they have to be an eleven.”

“Okay Roger.”

Freddie and John sit in the row in front of you and alternate between scrawling in their notebooks—song lyrics for Freddie, sketches of some kind of amplifier for John—and tossing peanuts into each other’s mouths. John doesn’t speak to you, but he keeps glimpsing back between the seats like he’s considering it. When Roger gets up two hours in to take a smoke break and chase down extra peanut packets for Freddie, John finally turns around and peeks over his seat.

“Why don’t opossums get rabies?” he asks.

“That’s what’s on your mind?” you tease, sipping Mountain Dew.

“Maybe.”

“Okay. Buckle up. It’s technically possible for opossums to get rabies. But they have naturally super low body temperatures, like 94 or 95 degrees Fahrenheit. So the virus usually can’t survive in their system. Thus, squeaky clean opossums.”

“Well. Minus the ticks and fleas and dirt and rubbish and all that.”

“Most of the cute things in life are at least slightly grubby.”

“Like Roger Taylor.”

You laugh. “That man has definitely been submerged in garbage at some point.”

“You have no idea. But you have to learn to be a Londoner now. We wouldn’t say grubby, we’d say dodgy.”

“Dodgy. Got it.”

“Show me. Use it in a sentence.”

“Roger is super dodgy, while Brian is much less so. Jury’s still out on John.”

“Well done.” He applauds.

Now you reach out to touch his hair, like Roger did earlier; it’s impossibly soft and downy, comforting, almost homey. John smiles patiently. “You have fantastic bone structure, you know,” you tell him. “You should cut this off one day so people can see it.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely. But in the meantime...” You gently thread your fingertips through his locks, twirl a strand, observe that those blue-grey eyes that seemed steely back at the airport are now as soft and innocuous as morning fog. Roger reappears with his loot of peanut packets and gasps, pretending to be scandalized.

“What’s going on here?! Jesus, Deaks, I leave you alone for three minutes and you’ve got her all enamored with your soft cuddly exterior and latent homicidal tendencies.”

“It’s a winning combination.” John catches the peanuts that Roger hurls his way and turns to split them with Freddie.

You gaze up at Roger and beam. “Hey, dodgy Rogey.”

“Oh, you think that’s charming?” He slinks into his seat and drapes an arm across your shoulders. “You realize you’re one of us now, right? That makes you dodgy too.”

“As long as I don’t have to participate in any scandalous naked photoshoots.”

“Oh my god, that was one time! Freddie, Fred, hey, Freddie, why would you show her those...?!”

Hours later, when the plane hits the runway at Heathrow, Brian jolts awake and clutches for you like a staircase railing. He’s cooler to the touch now, appears less feverish, insists he feels better; nevertheless, Freddie and Roger escort him all through the airport like intense and sunglasses-armored Secret Service agents flanking Nixon, steadying him on escalators and dragging his luggage. As the five of you descend into the arrivals area, Freddie points to a group of young women and shrieks in delight, waves, blows flirtatious kisses all the way down the steps.  

“Freddie!” the blonde one calls, leaping in her heels and grinning enormously. She’s holding a large, glittery sign that reads: Welcome home, Queen! Freddie races to meet her, sweeps her off her feet, dips her halfway to the floor and kisses her deeply, theatrically. The blonde woman in his arms giggles and buries her fingers in his mane of shining black hair.

“Darling?” Freddie says, spinning to find you, flourishing his artful hands. “This is Mary Austin, the love of my life. Mary, this is our new best friend, Florence Nightingale.”

“Well,” you confess. “That’s not my actual name, obviously. It’s—”

“I quite like Florence Nightingale,” John says. “I’ve always fancied the name Florence. That’s where Dante was from. He was exiled during some political conflict and ended up bouncing around all over Italy. He eventually landed in Ravenna and finished The Divine Comedy there. By the time he died, he hadn’t seen Florence in twenty years. But Florence was always home.” He smiles at you in an off-kilter, crafty sort of way that tells you you’ve at last been admitted into the diminutive, highly selective circle of people that John calls friends; and you feel like you’ve won the lottery for the second time in forty-eight hours.

“Hmm,” Freddie replies, puzzled. Mary nods uncertainly. Then John turns to greet a petite auburn-haired girl in a simple turquoise sundress and with long, bone-white legs.

Brian pulls you away to introduce you to his girlfriend, the one he was always trying to call on the hospital phone. He rests his hands on your shoulders as he presents you. “Chrissie, I love this woman.”

Chrissie glowers and crosses her arms. “Oh.”

“Wait, no, sorry, I mean she saved my life. She was my nightshift nurse in Boston. I was completely lost before she found me, tremendously depressed. You know how I get. She’s come to London to look after me. Then we’re going to convince the record company to hire her as our travel nurse.”

“Oh!” Now Chrissie softens. She has wavy brunette hair, plump cheeks, marvelous wide-set blue eyes, a completely uncomplicated presence. She embraces you kindly, gratefully. “Thank you so much, love.”

“No, please, it was my pleasure! Bri is a perfect gentleman. And a genius. But you already know that.”

“Chris, I was hoping she could borrow our couch for a few days until she finds her own place...”

“Of course!” Chrissie replies, fussing with your hair, studying you, her mind roiling. “What’s ours is yours. But it’s not much, I’ll warn you.”

“I’ll pay rent. And cook and clean. I’ll be a certified house wench.”

Chrissie laughs, then screams as Brian staggers and collapses to the floor. “Bri—?!”

“He’s alright,” you announce calmly as everyone crowds around. You claw through your luggage, pull out an instant cold pack, crack it and press it to Brian’s forehead. He stirs and mumbles something about New Orleans. “Rog, can you flag down a taxi? We gotta get him home.”

“Sure, you got it.” Roger darts off. And as Chrissie, Freddie, Mary, John, and John’s girlfriend—whom you gather from their conversation is named Veronica—scuttle to reassure Brian and fetch him water, you lock stares with Josephine. Roger’s girlfriend—super casual, not exclusive, that’s what he told me—is beautiful and slim and tan and dark-eyed and, worse than all of that, palpably clever. She considers you silently, and what crosses through her pristine, heart-shaped face is not mere suspicion but knowing; and perhaps there is acceptance there as well.

No, not acceptance, you realize. Resignation. Disappointment. Powerlessness.

You tear your eyes away from Josephine and turn back to Brian: tilting a bottle of water against his lips, pulling him to his feet, fanning him with airplane tickets, leading him to a bench to wait for the taxi. The others help, oblivious to the shadow that has marauded through the room like an eclipse.

I won’t end up like her, you think to yourself with savage determination. I won’t let myself love him.

~~~~~~~~~~

Brian sinks into a plush orange lounge chair as you and Chrissie cart the luggage inside. You get a tour of their tiny apartment, shove your few remaining belongings beneath the couch where you now live, and drop into the plaid cushions, covering your face with your hands.

“Oh my god. I can’t believe I did this. I quit my job. I left Boston. I’m living on some random couple’s couch in London. Oh my god.”

“Hey,” Chrissie says warmly, lifting your chin. “We aren’t so random. We’re your friends. Maybe we’re even your destiny.”

“Jesus, you’re something out of a fairytale.”

“You’re the one who’s going to be cleaning my house, Cinderella.” Chrissie tosses a bag over her shoulder and heads for the door. “I have to swing by work and see if my students killed the substitute teacher today, will you two be alright here?”

“Of course,” you say. Brian gives her a groggy thumbs-up.

“Okay. Bye for now. Love you lots, Bri.”

“Love you,” Brian replies weakly. Chrissie departs into a bright London summer. Brian looks over at you sorrowfully, guiltily. “I miss New Orleans.”

“What do you miss about New Orleans, Bri?” You know Queen stopped there before they came to Boston, before they came into your life.

“Can I confess something to you?”

“Sure.”

He stares at the wall, vacant, acutely distressed. “I think I’m in love with a stripper called Peaches.”

“Oooookay.” You snatch up your purse and dash for the apartment door.

“Wait, no, really, I—”

“Don’t tell me about it. Call Roger or someone. Or, better yet, write a song about it and make some money so we can all have mansions with swimming pools one day. Do you need anything from that grocery store on the corner?”  

Brian sighs mournfully. “I suppose not.”

“Alright. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes. Then you’re getting homemade chicken noodle soup. Everything will be better now, Brian. I promise. Everything will go back to the way it should be. Now that you’re home. Now that you’re here.”

Brian echoes quietly to himself as you open the door and sunlight floods in: “Now I’m here.”

#queen fanfic #queen #queen fic #roger taylor #roger taylor fic #john deacon fic #john deacon #borhap #but you can never leave #but you can never leave series #but you can never leave fic

[preservationandruin]

Rhythm Of War Liveblog Part One, Part 1 (Chapters 1-2)

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On to Part One of Rhythm of War, after I finish screaming at the ghost of Gavilar Kholin. Actually, we can’t wait for that, I’m never going to be done screaming at the ghost of Gavilar Kholin. 

Our POVs are Kaladin, Shallan, Navani, Venli, and Lirin--so Kal’s family is coming back to prominence, I guess. It’s a short update, but I gotta go to work. 

Lirin talks about the ethics of continuing a hopeless fight, Syl lets loose an “I told you so” first thing, we see a new and terrifying variant of Fused, I come up with a new, more accurate name for the Sons of Honor; Veil finally gets kidnapped; I start getting philosophical about the ethics of continuing a hopeless fight; and Kaladin organizes an airlift. 

Epigraphs for this part seem to be a lecture that Navani gave on how to trap spren in fabrials, so that’s cool.

Alright, so our timing here is a year after the fall of Alethkar, and Herdaz has been next on the Voidbringers’ target list. They’ve been fighting the entire time, but the voidbringers have intensified their assault and now refugees are pouring into the villages in Alethkar; Lirin is insisting on examining everyone as they come in, making sure that he can find people who need treatment early. The leader of Hearthstone now is Brightness Abiajan--from the name, I’m assuming she’s one of the singers. 

Also, apparently someone is coming through this line today that Lirin is anxious about. Abiajan comes to talk to Lirin, wondering if he has no compassion because he’s so numb to others’ suffering--he explains that he has to numb it to survive as a surgeon. She mentions that he set her arm, once, when she was a child. Also, hilariously, Abiajan says that plaguespren cause plague and that the idea that it’s improper sanitation is superstition. 

Laral, Kaladin’s childhood friend, is helping out now, determined. Apparently the person that Lirin is worried about is a Herdazian general; Lirin does see him as responsible for much of the current strife for continuing to fight; however, he’s not going to turn him in, and instead has contacted Kaladin to come pick him up while Laral helps Roshone make a distraction. 

Lirin’s condemnation of continuing a hopeless war as something that just gets people killed and is stupid (”Heroism is a myth you tell idealistic young people. It got one of my sons killed and another taken from me”) makes sense and is deeply sad. It’s also a good second perspective on the fact that so much of Roshar’s narrative has been about being forced to choose between two bad options and having the resolve to find another path or stick with the honorable thing--Lirin here is a reminder that that’s not always an option and sometimes makes things worse. “I obey the person who holds the sword to my neck, General, same as I always have.” 

Heroism isn’t always an option. Heroism can get you killed and hurt the people around you. You have to be willing to take responsibility for that in order to try heroism, and that’s some of what Kaladin has had to struggle with, too--the fact that he can’t protect everyone and that his actions will lead to death sometimes.

Also, shoutout to Roshone for actually making a distraction here, good on you buddy. Anyway Lirin noticed that the parshmen always focus on what appears to be the person being seen to rather than, say, the people carrying the litter--probably because they’re used to the people doing those menial tasks being unnoticed and unspoken to, and have absorbed that norm of society? I don’t know, but Lirin is exploiting it. 

Oh man, someone has visited Hearthstone, someone who Abiajan refers to as having blessed them, and she demands that Lirin come with her and that nobody leave the town. It’s one of the Fused, and it’s interrogating people about Kaladin--and they noticed that Kaladin was there, and Lirin notes that he barely recognizes Kaladin anymore, referring to him as the “harsh man Kaladin had become.” 

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, just let Kaladin babysit people this book, let him rest, he deserves it. I mean, what’s happening is him having to fight again, but he deserves rest.  

Cut to Kaladin’s perspective, Syl is delivering an “I told you so” about them being spotted, which is so relentlessly on-brand. Kaladin notes that he’s not looking at Lirin to avoid giving Lirin away, and also because “he knew what he would see. disappointment. So, nothing new.” 

HEY. SOMEONE LOVE AND APPRECIATE KALADIN STORMBLESSED PLEASE HE’S DOING HIS BEST. 

Meanwhile,  Kaladin is learning the different “orders” of Fused; he’s mostly dealt with the shanay-im, “those of the heavens,” who share the flight of windrunners. Apparently Jasnah posited there would be ten orders, logically, and Dalinar--offering no explanation for how he knew--said it would only be nine. I mean, at this point if anyone knows Odium it’s Dalinar. 

Also, this Fused has learned not to do single combat, which is Kaladin’s normal mode of dealing with them. I wonder if the order they’re modelled after affects their behavior--honorspren create windrunners, and agreeing to a one-on-one duel is a very honorable thing to do. Maybe there’s more connection there than either side wants to realize. 

Ok, so what we know about this new Fused: 

Teleports via shooting their spren forward, then forming a new body of voidlight and stone where they end up. 

Probably elsecaller-linked (teleportation and then forming things out of energy) 

Favors exploiting teleportation to allow for a grappling fighting style and sneaking into blind spots extremely quickly (big rogue energy) 

Teleportation ability is extremely costly, can only be done three times before needing to recharge on Voidlight. 

Does not teleport instantaneously; the spren-travel can be outrun, as Kaladin does by lashing himself forward five times (so, approximately five times the speed of gravity on Roshar, which is not gravity’s speed on earth, is faster than them; they’re considerably slower than light, even though that’s what they look like)

Can’t transport objects/make them from voidlight; clothing is a hair wrap and weapons are fragments of their skin

He leaves but tells Kaladin to watch for him; it also seems like Kaladin’s depression is coming back. Syl shows up to talk to him, wearing a different style--she’s been taking fashion notes from Adolin, which is hilarious. 

Meanwhile, Veil is wandering around the Sadeas warcamps, irritated that she hasn’t been kidnapped yet, or even mugged. Also, Veil and Shallan are apparently teaching Radiant to appreciate humor, which is great. Adolin and his soldiers are apparently backing her up for this hopeful kidnapping, which is reassuring--I’m glad she’s not going it alone, although she’s very competent. She’s pretending to be a merchant who has a way in past Dalinar’s tariffs and is also implying he doesn’t have the authority to demand them. 

Ooh, specifically Shallan is hunting the Hypocrite’s Association, which is what I’m calling the Sons of Honor for the moment I guess. For a moment, while they’re doing accounting, Shallan starts having a bit of a memory come back; Veil suggests it might be time to remember everything, but Shallan shuts that down. 

Apparently, in the grand tradition of Sadeases not knowing when they’re beaten, Ialai is plotting treason. Ialai, how did that go for the last two Brightlords Sadeas? I’m begging you, quit while you’re...behind, honestly. But still alive. Anyway, the wine was drugged--finally--so they have officially been kidnapped! 

Back to Kaladin,  Syl is trying to convince him that it’s easy to sleep, he just has to lie down and pretend to be dead for a few hours (oh, Syl, honey, you’re trying to help but that’s not...that’s not it) but Kaladin is noting that it feels like life is strangely disconnected for him, like it keeps going for everyone else and he’s in stasis. 

Chronic depression is a bitch. 

Syl cheers him up by doing a terrible Kaladin impression, though. I love her. Kaladin goes back to talk to the singers, telling them that there’s a shelter half an hour to the east and telling them not to fight if they don’t want to die. They, of course, fight, which Kaladin doesn’t like; it’s very Alethi of them, though, to throw themselves forward. 

Again, we’re back to whether or not there’s heroism in fighting a fight you can’t win. Even with Ialai, kind of--continuing to fight against Dalinar when she can’t win it. Hopeless fights are all well and good when your protagonists do them and it works, this part seems to be pointing out, but what if they fail? And how does it feel to be on the other side of them? 

Anyway, the others retreat, and Kaladin gets to meet with his mom and baby Oroden (who pronounces his name as “Gagadin;” i’m gonna CRY). Syl always appears to Kal’s family. Also, apparently Kaladin was dating Lyn, which is wild because I’m almost positive based on her appearance last book that she’s gay as fuck, and she broke up with him. Also, Syl and Hesina are ganging up on Kaladin and it’s great. 

"It’s demonstrably unfair that I have to deal with both of you at once,” Kaladin said. 

Meanwhile it also turns out that the Radiants haven’t been supporting Herdaz because they saw it falling as inevitable, but it’s continued fighting against all odds. Another perspective: is it alright to abandon others fighting a fight that you assume is impossible, when it could be winnable with your strength? 

Also, apparently the Mink likes to sneak away from his guards without letting them notice, and he’s done it again here. That’s pretty impressive, I’ve got to say, although Kaladin is aghast at the idea of leaving one’s men behind like that (of course). 

Also, Kaladin organized one of Navani’s platforms to essentially airlift out all of Hearthstone. Trying to save as many people as he can, even still. 

#rowliveblog #row spoilers #kaladin has a saving people thing #the ethics of unwinnable wars

[mcleaha]

hello lovelies ! i’m bøffy , i’m 20 years old , prefer she/her pronouns , and currently reside in the pst timezone ! uhh . . . i am posting this intro at nearly 5 AM my time , and i would be almost willing to bet it’s littered with errors and it’s . . . probably a bit all – over – the – place since this is very much a new muse ! however , with that being said , if you give this a like , i will definitely contact you via tumblr ims or d!scord ( 𝓲𝓷𝓱𝓪𝓵𝓪 / 𝓮𝔁𝓱𝓪𝓵𝓪#1384 ) to plot !

[  jasmine brown  . 21  .  cis female .  she/her  ] just saw MALEAH AMICK dragging their suitcase up the steps to CABIN 1B  .  good luck living with HER  ,  i hear that that they’re INDECISIVE  ,  FORGETFUL ,  SOCIABLE  & CREATIVE  .  Apparently they’re the ATTACKING MIDFIELDER .  let’s hope the upcoming season doesn’t affect their JUNIOR year of ART EDUCATION .

STATS:

name: maleah amick .

nickname(s): leah .

age: twenty one .

gender identity: cis female .

pronouns: she/her .

sexual orientation: bisexual / biromantic .

birthday: 26 february 1999 .

zodiac sign: pisces .

myer-briggs: esfj .

pinterest: coming soon !

HISTORY:

               born on the 26th of february 1999 in orlando , florida , maleah was the youngest of the three amick siblings . her mother worked as a prestigious board – certified pediatric surgeon at a local children’s hospital , and her father worked as a high school mathematics teacher and volunteered as the school’s unpaid soccer coach , a move that saved the program from ending due to budget cuts ( he claims he was roped into the position as a first – year teacher with no seniority , but while he’s reluctant to admit it , he eventually grew a passion for the sport he had previously known little about ) .

               with her mother’s long shifts and emergency work – related calls , she ultimately became closer to her father and two older brothers while growing up . most knew her father as a man who towered over them at 6’7” , ordering his team to run laps or practice drills ; however , maleah knew him as the man who would crawl around the living room floor playing barbies with her or would prepare fruit and herbal teas as she twirled around dressed as a princess , declaring it time for a royal tea party . just as easily , she could be found exploring the great outdoors or playing whatever sport was currently in season alongside her brothers .

               she practically followed in her brothers’ footsteps . as they approached high school , each brother chose one sport to specialize in , hoping to secure a position on a college team and eventually on a professional team . maleah did not have professional athletic goals , but although she had immaculate grades with limited effort put towards academics , she knew extra – curricular activities were important for college applications . thus , when it was maleah’s turn to choose which sport to pursue , rather than having to weigh the pros and cons and make her own decision ( or perhaps , fearing that she would make the wrong decision ) , she simply chose the sport that her brothers had previously chosen : soccer .

               her high school coach knew the perfect position for maleah . years of informal practice with her brothers in the backyard had enhanced her skills . she had learned how to evade skilled high school defenses by pretending as if she was heading in one direction before bolting in the other .  soccer was one of the few areas in life in which she possessed enough knowledge to make quick and effective decisions ; she could read the field and immediately determine the best course of action : dribble , pass , or shoot . ultimately , she possessed the vision and the creativity necessary to secure playmaking and goal-scoring opportunities for her team .

               with a line of college scholarships , both academic and athletic , waiting for the attacking midfielder’s choice ( unfortunately , none from either of the schools her brothers played for ) , the time came for maleah to make a decision . as deadlines for summer practices , class registration , and tuition payments crept closer , she finally determined a means of deciding . she numbered her offer letters , 1 through 13 , and allowed a random number generator to make the decision for her . thus , mere chance ( or perhaps fate ) led maleah to hollis university .

               her first semester at hollis was . . . rough , to put it lightly . while most freshman shed a few tears as they watched their parents’ car drive off into the distance , homesickness lingered in maleah’s life . coasting through high school with limited effort had done her zero favors ; with no effective study skills , her grades dropped dramatically . between soccer and trying to salvage her grade point average , a social life was virtually out of question . ultimately , she found herself on academic probation , unable to play soccer , for her second semester of freshman year at hollis .

               luckily , she was able to develop effective study habits , and even discovered along the way that maybe pre – med was not the best major for her . when asked what she wanted to do , maleah gave an entire list of generic answers – “i want to help people” and “i want to make a difference” came up quite often , but nothing specific enough to point her in the right direction . thus , she changed her major almost every semester , desperately seeking for the right fit . in the meantime , though it took several letters petitioning her temporary removal from the team , she was able to resume playing soccer during her sophomore year .

               as junior year approached , maleah was almost certain that she was back in her coach’s good graces – no longer viewed with a sense of skepticism . she had proven herself capable , finding her name on the dean’s list nearly every semester and assisting her team in numerous wins throughout the soccer season . however , with hollis’ soccer teams’ restructuring , maleah can’t help but question if her coach views her as a valued athlete or a liability .

PERSONALITY:

               two words : social butterfly . almost to a fault . even if someone has expressed quite literally zero interest in talking to her / getting to know her , she will still make an attempt . kind of a . . . people – pleaser , in a sense , she just wants to be well – liked ?

               avoids ! conflict ! at ! all ! costs ! generally just . . . tries to avoid people or situations that upset her . not very prone to like . . . yelling or crying , but those close to her can definitely sense a change in her demeanor when she’s upset ? just . . . a lot more tense , probably lots of eye – rolling and just . . . subtle , quiet signs that she is over whatever the problem is .

               kinda . . . chill , mellow , easygoing ? she very much lives in the moment , and tries not to stress too much about the future . always down for a drink , a party , whatever – genuinely just around for some fun and some friends !!!

               the kind of person who genuinely gets excited over like those fun facts and jokes that are on popsicle sticks and whatnot – absolutely must share the information with everyone within earshot . honestly , those jokes are very . . . on point with her own personal sense of humor jflakdsj .

HEADCANONS:

               she suffers from a terrible case of youngest child syndrome . ultimately , without guidance , she’s terribly irresponsible . she’s always having to run extra laps because she sets her alarm too late to make it to morning practices on time . she’s always receiving overdraft fees for spending more money than is available in her checking account . forgets everything – from homework assignments to names to grabbing her keys before locking the door on her way out . just . . . imagine a child asking for an adult’s help and her looking around until she comes to the realization that “ oh , shit , i am an adult ” .

               she’s practically always doodling – in the corners of notebooks , on napkins while eating lunch , on her clothing , on her own skin . she loves making art , particularly drawing or painting portraits or nature . ( ultimately , she only decided to incorporate this into her choice of major after hollis threatened to not allow any further changes to her major ) .

               she has a . . . unique sense of style . she has a passion for thrifting and upcycling . practically lives in hoodies and t – shirts that she has purchased from secondhand stores and cropped herself . always adding cool iron-on patches to her clothing . she should be listed as your emergency contact if you’re prone to ripping your clothing because she can definitely fix it .

               she probably thinks she’s good at trash-talking on the field , but she actually sounds like a second grader ( and that’s being kind ) . if you looked at her browser history , there’s probably at least one record of her actually googling “ best soccer trash talk ” .

CONNECTIONS:

friends !! friends she’s met through courses throughout her adventures of attempting every major possible , mayhaps soccer friendships that continue off the field , mayhaps that complicated emerging new friendship state for some who are new to hollis ! unlikely friends ! best friends !!! quite literally those unbreakable ride – or – die friendships !

muses !! i feel like every artist needs that little dose of inspiration , even if it’s simply the inspiration of a work – in – progress portrait throughout the duration of camp ! complaints of “ stop moving ! ” and her stopping every ten minutes to ask what they think and probably at some point , her flinging a brush dripping of paint in their direction (if things didn’t end in an all – out paint fight djlfakds ) .

enemies !! honestly i’m sure there is ?? so much ?? potential for this , bt . . . mayhaps someone’s just . . . fed up w her irresponsibility ? thinks she doesn’t take her soccer position seriously ? maybe someone doesn’t think she takes anything seriously ( they wouldn’t be . . . wrong tbh ) . maybe someone from cali takes that “ california vs florida ” feud a little too seriously jflskdja . idk there’s always bound to be personality clashes !

exes !! relationships that ended badly , so she actively tries to avoid them and who even knows what happens when she’s forced to acknowledge their existence at some point at this camp !!! maybe relationships that ended on mutual terms so they’re still p chill with each other ?? maybe ended relationships that never quite got closure so there’s still unresolved feelings !!

hook-ups !! they are . . . college students . they are . . . college students stuck at a camp all summer . idk i feel like this one is pretty self – explanatory jflakds .

honestly i am tired & want to sleep , bt genuinely i am up for & open to anything ! good influences , bad influences , unrequited crushes , requited crushes , idk the world is y(our) oyster !! these are . . . rlly just some ideas to get the whole process started bc i am actually terrible at . . . thinking of plot ideas on the spot . always open to jst . . . doing a thread and seeing how things naturally flow too !

#hollis.intro #i . . . don't know what most of this is #it is jst #almost 5 am now actually i need sleep #also too lazy to log on to my other account to access my other gifs so :) this is what we have to work with for the time being jflaksdj

[hollyhomburg]

is it easier for you to write the ending scene first? or does it depend on the fic outline? or do you pick out random scenes to write and then come back later to edit them? im really interested in your writing process 🤔

honestly, it really depends on which piece im working on- or even like- which part of that piece im working on. sometimes I have a particular inspiration to write parts that are chapters ahead of what i plan on releasing, a lot of scenes miss matched and out of order that i eventually figure out a way to connect them. 

the plots of a lot of my fic’s are pretty regimented and planned out all in my head. but when i get towards the end of a story i tend to start to plan things a little more heavily to make sure that I didn’t completely forget to wrap up a plot point or leave a chareters development completely unaddressed (one of the reasons why a good portion of the last part of OFAL revolves around Hoseok is because i haven’t done a good job of addressing his past). 

i also tend to make sure I have the ending wrapped up and pinned down for most of my fics before i start working my way towards the final part- like- I know it seems weird, but the ending of RWAD is already written almost in its entirety. as is nearly all of the rest of the story (minus the jungkook parts, and a particularly taxing conversation between all of the, and a sex scene that might be in the next part????? idk i might leave it out in its entirety.) almost the entirety of yoongi’s arc is written, as is the m/c giving birth and what happens after that! because back when i started writing the story i wrote the beginning two parts and then the end with only a vague idea of what happened in the middle- and now we’re past the middle

there’s only probably 15k total that i need to write in scene work- rather then connection work in order to complete that story in it’s entirity- it seems strange but OFAL has about the same amount of work needed to finish it. i also have like an entire storyboard for ofal in terms of what happens when and the order they need to go in.  then i usually go through and write the important dialogue, and then I’ll do the work to surround the dialogue in a scene. the endings are always a little difficult for me to write because they have a lot of moving pieces that all need to be accounted for. 

finishing a fic is much harder than starting writing it- when you’re starting something you’re kinda just throwing around details willy nilly but then at the end you have to make sure all of the details meet in a satisfying way. 

i dont know if everyone is going to like the ending of OFAL because there is some kinda weird magic shit that goes on in the end- but i hope at least that it will leave you with a sort of a bittersweet feeling, maybe they don’t get a future in the way that they imagined- but at least they get to live and love each other in the ending. 

also kinda uncertain if i should like- make koo and hobi romantic- because ive said since the beginning that i wouldn’t but litterally- all i’d have to do is add one or two sentences and their ending could become so much more romantic than it is, but who knows! 

#Anonymous

[draculalive]

“The Pall Mall Gazette,” 18 September.

THE ESCAPED WOLF. PERILOUS ADVENTURE OF OUR INTERVIEWER. Interview with the Keeper in the Zoölogical Gardens.

After many inquiries and almost as many refusals, and perpetually using the words “Pall Mall Gazette” as a sort of talisman, I managed to find the keeper of the section of the Zoölogical Gardens in which the wolf department is included. Thomas Bilder lives in one of the cottages in the enclosure behind the elephant-house, and was just sitting down to his tea when I found him. Thomas and his wife are hospitable folk, elderly, and without children, and if the specimen I enjoyed of their hospitality be of the average kind, their lives must be pretty comfortable. The keeper would not enter on what he called “business” until the supper was over, and we were all satisfied. Then when the table was cleared, and he had lit his pipe, he said:—

“Now, sir, you can go on and arsk me what you want. You’ll excoose me refoosin’ to talk of perfeshunal subjects afore meals. I gives the wolves and the jackals and the hyenas in all our section their tea afore I begins to arsk them questions.”

“How do you mean, ask them questions?” I queried, wishful to get him into a talkative humour.

“’Ittin’ of them over the ’ead with a pole is one way; scratchin’ of their hears is another, when gents as is flush wants a bit of a show-orf to their gals. I don’t so much mind the fust — the ’ittin’ with a pole afore I chucks in their dinner; but I waits till they’ve ’ad their sherry and kawffee, so to speak, afore I tries on with the ear-scratchin’. Mind you,” he added philosophically, “there’s a deal of the same nature in us as in them theer animiles. Here’s you a-comin’ and arskin’ of me questions about my business, and I that grumpy-like that only for your bloomin’ ’arf-quid I’d ’a’ seen you blowed fust ’fore I’d answer. Not even when you arsked me sarcastic-like if I’d like you to arsk the Superintendent if you might arsk me questions. Without offence did I tell yer to go to ’ell?”

“You did.”

“An’ when you said you’d report me for usin’ of obscene language that was ’ittin’ me over the ’ead; but the ’arf-quid made that all right. I weren’t a-goin’ to fight, so I waited for the food, and did with my ’owl as the wolves, and lions, and tigers does. But, Lor’ love yer ’art, now that the old ’ooman has stuck a chunk of her tea-cake in me, an’ rinsed me out with her bloomin’ old teapot, and I’ve lit hup, you may scratch my ears for all you’re worth, and won’t git even a growl out of me. Drive along with your questions. I know what yer a-comin’ at, that ’ere escaped wolf.”

“Exactly. I want you to give me your view of it. Just tell me how it happened; and when I know the facts I’ll get you to say what you consider was the cause of it, and how you think the whole affair will end.”

“All right, guv’nor. This ’ere is about the ’ole story. That ’ere wolf what we called Bersicker was one of three grey ones that came from Norway to Jamrach’s, which we bought off him four years ago. He was a nice well-behaved wolf, that never gave no trouble to talk of. I’m more surprised at ’im for wantin’ to get out nor any other animile in the place. But, there, you can’t trust wolves no more nor women.”

“Don’t you mind him, sir!” broke in Mrs. Tom, with a cheery laugh. “’E’s got mindin’ the animiles so long that blest if he ain’t like a old wolf ’isself! But there ain’t no ’arm in ’im.”

“Well, sir, it was about two hours after feedin’ yesterday when I first hear my disturbance. I was makin’ up a litter in the monkey-house for a young puma which is ill; but when I heard the yelpin’ and ’owlin’ I kem away straight. There was Bersicker a-tearin’ like a mad thing at the bars as if he wanted to get out. There wasn’t much people about that day, and close at hand was only one man, a tall, thin chap, with a ’ook nose and a pointed beard, with a few white hairs runnin’ through it. He had a ’ard, cold look and red eyes, and I took a sort of mislike to him, for it seemed as if it was ’im as they was hirritated at. He ’ad white kid gloves on ’is ’ands, and he pointed out the animiles to me and says: ‘Keeper, these wolves seem upset at something.’

“‘Maybe it’s you,’ says I, for I did not like the airs as he give ’isself. He didn’t git angry, as I ’oped he would, but he smiled a kind of insolent smile, with a mouth full of white, sharp teeth. ‘Oh no, they wouldn’t like me,’ ’e says.

“‘Ow yes, they would,’ says I, a-imitatin’ of him. ‘They always likes a bone or two to clean their teeth on about tea-time, which you ’as a bagful.’

“Well, it was a odd thing, but when the animiles see us a-talkin’ they lay down, and when I went over to Bersicker he let me stroke his ears same as ever. That there man kem over, and blessed but if he didn’t put in his hand and stroke the old wolf’s ears too!

“‘Tyke care,’ says I. ‘Bersicker is quick.’

“‘Never mind,’ he says. ‘I’m used to ’em!’

“‘Are you in the business yourself?’ I says, tyking off my ’at, for a man what trades in wolves, anceterer, is a good friend to keepers.

“‘No’ says he, ‘not exactly in the business, but I ’ave made pets of several.’ And with that he lifts his ’at as perlite as a lord, and walks away. Old Bersicker kep’ a-lookin’ arter ’im till ’e was out of sight, and then went and lay down in a corner and wouldn’t come hout the ’ole hevening. Well, larst night, so soon as the moon was hup, the wolves here all began a-’owling. There warn’t nothing for them to ’owl at. There warn’t no one near, except some one that was evidently a-callin’ a dog somewheres out back of the gardings in the Park road. Once or twice I went out to see that all was right, and it was, and then the ’owling stopped. Just before twelve o’clock I just took a look round afore turnin’ in, an’, bust me, but when I kem opposite to old Bersicker’s cage I see the rails broken and twisted about and the cage empty. And that’s all I know for certing.”

“Did any one else see anything?”

“One of our gard’ners was a-comin’ ’ome about that time from a ’armony, when he sees a big grey dog comin’ out through the garding ’edges. At least, so he says, but I don’t give much for it myself, for if he did ’e never said a word about it to his missis when ’e got ’ome, and it was only after the escape of the wolf was made known, and we had been up all night-a-huntin’ of the Park for Bersicker, that he remembered seein’ anything. My own belief was that the ’armony ’ad got into his ’ead.”

“Now, Mr. Bilder, can you account in any way for the escape of the wolf?”

“Well, sir,” he said, with a suspicious sort of modesty, “I think I can; but I don’t know as ’ow you’d be satisfied with the theory.”

“Certainly I shall. If a man like you, who knows the animals from experience, can’t hazard a good guess at any rate, who is even to try?”

“Well then, sir, I accounts for it this way; it seems to me that ’ere wolf escaped — simply because he wanted to get out.”

From the hearty way that both Thomas and his wife laughed at the joke I could see that it had done service before, and that the whole explanation was simply an elaborate sell. I couldn’t cope in badinage with the worthy Thomas, but I thought I knew a surer way to his heart, so I said:—

“Now, Mr. Bilder, we’ll consider that first half-sovereign worked off, and this brother of his is waiting to be claimed when you’ve told me what you think will happen.”

“Right y’are, sir,” he said briskly. “Ye’ll excoose me, I know, for a-chaffin’ of ye, but the old woman here winked at me, which was as much as telling me to go on.”

“Well, I never!” said the old lady.

“My opinion is this: that ’ere wolf is a-’idin’ of, somewheres. The gard’ner wot didn’t remember said he was a-gallopin’ northward faster than a horse could go; but I don’t believe him, for, yer see, sir, wolves don’t gallop no more nor dogs does, they not bein’ built that way. Wolves is fine things in a storybook, and I dessay when they gets in packs and does be chivyin’ somethin’ that’s more afeared than they is they can make a devil of a noise and chop it up, whatever it is. But, Lor’ bless you, in real life a wolf is only a low creature, not half so clever or bold as a good dog; and not half a quarter so much fight in ’im. This one ain’t been used to fightin’ or even to providin’ for hisself, and more like he’s somewhere round the Park a-’idin’ an’ a-shiverin’ of, and, if he thinks at all, wonderin’ where he is to get his breakfast from; or maybe he’s got down some area and is in a coal-cellar. My eye, won’t some cook get a rum start when she sees his green eyes a-shining at her out of the dark! If he can’t get food he’s bound to look for it, and mayhap he may chance to light on a butcher’s shop in time. If he doesn’t, and some nursemaid goes a-walkin’ orf with a soldier, leavin’ of the hinfant in the perambulator — well, then I shouldn’t be surprised if the census is one babby the less. That’s all.”

I was handing him the half-sovereign, when something came bobbing up against the window, and Mr. Bilder’s face doubled its natural length with surprise.

“God bless me!” he said. “If there ain’t old Bersicker come back by ’isself!”

He went to the door and opened it; a most unnecessary proceeding it seemed to me. I have always thought that a wild animal never looks so well as when some obstacle of pronounced durability is between us; a personal experience has intensified rather than diminished that idea.

After all, however, there is nothing like custom, for neither Bilder nor his wife thought any more of the wolf than I should of a dog. The animal itself was as peaceful and well-behaved as that father of all picture-wolves — Red Riding Hood’s quondam friend, whilst moving her confidence in masquerade.

The whole scene was an unutterable mixture of comedy and pathos. The wicked wolf that for half a day had paralysed London and set all the children in the town shivering in their shoes, was there in a sort of penitent mood, and was received and petted like a sort of vulpine prodigal son. Old Bilder examined him all over with most tender solicitude, and when he had finished with his penitent said:—

“There, I knew the poor old chap would get into some kind of trouble; didn’t I say it all along? Here’s his head all cut and full of broken glass. ’E’s been a-gettin’ over some bloomin’ wall or other. It’s a shyme that people are allowed to top their walls with broken bottles. This ’ere’s what comes of it. Come along, Bersicker.”

He took the wolf and locked him up in a cage, with a piece of meat that satisfied, in quantity at any rate, the elementary conditions of the fatted calf, and went off to report.

I came off, too, to report the only exclusive information that is given to-day regarding the strange escapade at the Zoo.

#vampires #dracula #draculalive #wolves

[hedgewolf-hunters]

Diamond hunt

Bane: This is one of my recent ventures only about a year old. Here we go.

Deep in the ancient Castle Blackstone on the fourth floor in the old library a small figure flies around quickly. A baby chao with dragon like wings, horns and two small fangs is holding a scroll in its nub like hands as it searches the aisles of each book case. Lined with more knowledge of this world and others, magic of both light and dark, and countless tellings of history, plays, stories, legends and more. The Chao spots its target and flies full force at them. He raises the scroll in a sword stroke type manner and swings downward. The target in question is a five foot tall crimson furred wolf with two abnormally long hedgehog spines on his back, two quills curled like rams horns, two like dragon horns, and the two center quills being normal. They have a white stripe down their top center quill and a black stripe down each of their ram quills. They are wearing open legged jeans and steel hiking boots with fingerless steel plated leather gloves. A large double helix claymore sword stands next to them leaning on the table the Hedgewolf is resting their legs on. He is holding a book in one hand and blocks the incoming scroll with one of his own.

"Heh sorry little Toth but you need to be quicker than that if you want to land a hit on me." The Hedgewolf says. He closes the book and turns to the baby chao, grinning as he looks at the chao with his sky blue eyes, a dark blue stripe under each eye. Toth the baby chao says two quick chao's and than pulls the scroll away to swing again. The Hedgewolf chuckles blocking the swings at the last possible second playing with Toth. They both are smiling as they play fight through the library aisles.

A ringing from the Hedgewolf pocket gets his attention long enough for Toth to land a hit.

"Ow! Heh ok ok you win little one." The Hedgewolf chuckles putting up a hand to strop the swatting. Toth chao's happily and successfully before tucking the scroll into a cubby hole in the book case next to them and flying to sit on top of the Hedgewolf head. The headgewolf smiles as he reaches up and pets Toth as he fishes a crystal from out of his pocket. He taps it with his thumb twice and it hovers over his palm prodcing a hologram as it spins.

"Hey you reached Bane Darkos, what can i do for you?" Bane asks as the hologram reveals a mole with glasses on.

"Ah yes, hello my name is Oswald i have contacted you through your bounty hunter contacts here in Gradius." The mole Oswald says.

"Whats the job then?" Bane asks picking up the yawning Torh from his head and walking out of the aisle into the main floor of the library. He carries Toth out of the library and down to the kitchen.

"Their has been a recent string of robberies in many of my jewlery shops. I have contacted the police but they have yet to even fully begin an investigation. I heard you do odd jobs as a bounty hunter and was wondering if you would be so kind as to come and capture the theif." Oswald explains as Bane walks down eight flights of stairs.

Setting Toth down on a cushion bed that Bane placed all over the castle for him, he goes and begins rummaging through the fridge for a drink.

"Well considering Gradius is known to have to odd robbery every now and then thanks to your cities main professions. No offense of course." Bane says grabbing a non alcoholic malt liquor and pops the top off with his thumb.

"Well that is the issue, this past two weeks it has only been my shop and my diamond mine that have been targeted." Oswald says as Bane takes a drink.

"Well, that is rather interesting. But why not hire a local hunter than, you do know my prices for being hired personally is steeper than any local you could find." Bane says taking another drink.

"You come more recommended. Not to mention no one will take the job because the theif has a tendency to avoid almost all security measures they put into place. Almost as if they were a ghost. Please Mr Bane, im losing buisness, ive been robbed six times and cant afford to many more." Oswald says. Bane thinks for a second than sighs putting down the empty bottle.

"Wire the pre determined amount of money to my account on the hunters list. Ill be there in a few hours." Bane says tapping the stone to cut the connection. He pockets the stone and picks up Toth. Walking out the door of the castle he whistles and the doors shut and a lock appears over the door. He leans forward and his spines extend and grow out. Wings begin to sprout as the spine unfold from the bottom out.

"Time for a little flight Toth. Hold on tight." He whsipers to the dozing chao. Toth snuggles into the warm chest fur and Banes hand. He smiles and lifts off before turning east to the town and his family grill.

Two hours later after Bane has dropped Toth off with his family he finally sees the mountains of Gradius. He sighs in relief rolling his shoulders.

"You know if you cant fly for this long without aches you won't make it past your prime." A feminine voice says to Bane. He grunts as he passes over the highest peak.

"If you'd just ask for lessons I would gladly show you how to keep loose while flying." She says. He grumbles as he angles down towards the city coming into view.

"Are you still mad about me hitting on that minx back in Primous?" The voice asks.

"Well no shit Drain. You know that anything you do while in control i count as me doing as well. Jeez i know your hornier than a horned toad but keep your robe on when we switch." Bane growls out before landing with a loud crash.

"Fine lover boy. I'll keep your pants on next time. Alright keep me posted if you need any powerups." Drain says before the noise in Bane's head goes silent. He stands up and dusts himself off from the impact debris. While the cloud still covers him he extends his hand downward and grips at the air. Slowly a light grows from his palm and the helix blade he had left at the library appeared in his hand along with a holster across his back. His wings fold in as he climbs from the crater with the blade in its holster.

"Ah Mr. Bane! So glad you could join us on such short notice." Oswald says from the back of a crowd of echidnas, porcupines, moles, groundhogs and insectoids. The short greying mole slowly forces his way through the crowd to stand in front of bane. He moves his glasses to dissolve any glare from the sun as he looks up at the three foot taller hedgewolf.

"Point me to the scene and I'll set up." Bane says rotating his shoulders and neck. Oswald nods and walks back through the crowd that quickly seperates for Bane.

Three hours later the sun has set the moon was full and Bane sits atop a building over looking the jewelry shop. The shop has been robbed everyday after the mine. The mine was robbed the day before so Bane decided to watch the shop.

"Hyleia you sensing anything?" He asks. The blade shimmers slightly and a pulsating rainbow orb appears.

"Not yet my young king. But the night has only just begun." A new feminie voice says from the orb.

"Ugh stop with the King stuff. I told you when i became your wielder i had no intention of ever taking the throne. Not as a monarch or figure head." Bane says through gritted teeth.

"Can you blame me Bane? You remind me so much of King Sickle. He had no machinations of becoming a ruler with his mate. But look how that turned out eh." She says with a slight giggle to her voice. A second giggle breaks in to the conversation.

"Oh thats one story you will have to tell me in detail Hyleia." Drain says

"Hey have your girl talk some other time please. We got company." Bane says looking down at the shop. Four cloaked figures walk up to the shop window. Bane watches as they look around and pull out a gemstone each. He grins and sits up placing his feet on the ledge and holding it with one hand to balance himself. He watches as the four of them walk through the wall.

"Ahh so high grade spells like that is how the manged to get through the others traps." Bane says taking a deep breath and closing his eyes.

"Drain we need to change my sight. Chaos energy tracking would be prefered." Bane says. He feels the inside of his skull burn some as his sight is changed.

"Ok kiddo give it a try now." Drain says as she stops the burning sensation in his head. Opening his eyes Bane looks back down at the shop. He sees the four trails of the figures entering the shop and that they are still rummaging around inside. Grinning Bane jumps up and lands on a closer building. Waiting for twenty minutes Bane watches as they finally leave the shop with what seems to be quite a haul.

"Finally i was getting impatient." Bane grumbles to himself cocking his head to size the four of them up. The four of them tuck the stones away in their cloaks as they keep the bags out in the open. They quickly start running off to the outskirts of the city where abandoned buildings line every other street. Bane keeps at least three buildings between them so they dont spot him as he follows their trail.

They stop at the farthest edge of town and head into what looks like a condemned house. Signs of demolition and to stand clear litter the lawn and fence surrounding it. The four theives check to make sure they werent followed and head inside the same why they broke into the shop.

"Drain reset vision. I got our targets inside an abandoned building with walls of spells leaking energy." Bane says closing his eyes once more. He feels a quick burning sensation and when he opens his eyes the world is back to as it should be. Bane leaps from the roof he was mounted on and lands on the street across from the supposedly abandoned house leaving a sizable crack in the concrete. He walks towards the house gripping Hyleia's pommel, he sniffs and smells the gunpowder of the bombs lining the inside of the fence. He chuckles as he hops over the fence to avoid triggering the bombs.

"These guys where smat enough to set of early warning systems in case they were ever followed. Hyleia could you be a dear and scout the inside? I doubt that its only four in their now." Bane whispers before pulling the sword from his back and pressing it gently flat against the door. A quick shimmer from the sword and the outside of the house pulses. Bane closes his eyes one more time to see what Hyleia sees.

Inside the house the house the second story is barren and in no way livable. The first floor on the other hand is in fairly well condition. A functional living room and dining room along with chairs a brand new eighty five inch screen and a small trail from a hole in one of the fours bags. Following it to the basement Bane finds where they are hiding most of the time. Eight creatures in total three wolves, a fox, two cats and two hawks.

"Well this is quite a haul tonight Trigger. You guys spot anyone at the scene this time?" The female Hawk asks. A grey timberwolf shakes his head.

"Its odd really. The old fart has been hiring bounty hunters for security for the last six days. But tonight, not a soul. The security measures were in place as usual but no one to try and fight or capture us inside this time." The grey wolf says.

"That is odd but not unwelcome." The male hawk says. The female nods and points to an empty corner.

"Stack todays loot there and ill start counting it once i get some food in me." The female hawk says. Bane smirks as he opens his eyes and takes Hyleia off the door. He knocks as hard as possible to make sure they can hear him down in the basment.

"Well their goes the element of surprise." Drain says.

"Oh dont act like you wanted to do this like an assassin. You'd have burst through every trap they set here to make your presence known." Bane whispers.

"You...have a fair point actually. Glad to see you do like listening to my stories when you nap." Drain says. Bane snorts as he holds Hyleia's gemstone as he waits for an answer.

"You know they're probably chewing each other out and gathering guns right?" Drain says

"Probably. But then again what good would they do if i have control of the gun powder." Bane says. Both girls in his head chuckle as he listens and hears them trying to tiptoe up the stairs and silently load their weapons. Bane whistles and the blue marks under his eyes glow quickly.

"You guys are making me wait way to long for this. Ive got a baby to get back to by day break. So you have two options here guys. Turn yourselves into me and you'll be asleep peacefully for the next ten hours. Or fight and have me put you all into a week long coma. Your choice." Bane says out loud once he hears all eight of them arguing on the other side.

"You forgot the third choice." The grey wolf says. Bane sighs and lifts Hyleia forehand position and slices through the door. As oon as the door falls Bane steps through as all eight take aim and pull the triggers. Bane gives them a minute as they all try to fire on him.

"You kids done playing with your toys?" Bane asks. The wolves growl and jump at Bane in frustration. He looks un impressed as he side steps them at the last second sending one out into the yard to roll in the grss and stop centimeters from the bomb trap. The other two crash into the door frame and whine holding their bleeding muzzles. Bane moves Hyleia in single motion around his body blocking a stab with a knife to his back. Two more try to get him with the butts of their unusable guns. He uses his arm to block the butts and pushes the attackers back. With his reflexes he reaches for the fox that tried getting him in the back again aiming for a sweet spot. And a green aura quickly flows from the fox into Bane. He slams the foxes head into a wall before tossing the unconscious fox into the living room. Bane jumps back some as a cross bow bolt flies past his stomach. He glances at the male hawk holding the cross bow.

"Smart little birdie." Bane whsipers as he blocks another with Hyleia and pushes off towards the hawk. He catches a thrid bolt an inch from his eye as he goes over and behind the hawk and uses the flat of the blade to knock the wind from him and into a wall. Bane rushes again at the downed hawk and holds his head in his palm. Again the green energy flows from the hawk to Bane before he tosses him onto the fox in the living room. The two wolves with bleeding noses rush Bane and onslaught him with punches and kicks. He sheaths Hyleia with one hand and blocks some of their blows with his other. Once sheathed he closes his fists and pushes the wolves off of him. He growls as he pushes towards them both. Getting down on all fours Bane shifts his forward momentum to his legs and does an improvised axe kick. The wolves seperate as Bane leaves two large holes where the wolves were. They both manage to block a fist from Bane but are unable to stop him from pushing them into each other. Their skulls meet and Bane palms both of their heads quickly draining them of energy. He tosses them onto the pile.

"Four down and four to go!" Bane exclaims into the house. A throwing star flies past Banes eye just missing it. He glances in the direction to finally see one of the cats getting in on the fight. Bane growls and sidesteps as the third wolf tries again to sneak attack Bane. This time though Bane doesnt let him just fly off again. Bane knees the wolf in the gut to halt the forward momentum and than in almost the same motion round house kicks the wolf at the cat who cant jump away in time and gets knocked to the floor. Before they can react Bane pounces on them and slams their heads into the floor as he drains their energy. He adds them to the pile as well.

"Alright ladies this is your last chance. Give up peacefully and youll only be out for a couple of hours." Bane says down into the basement. He hears them talk it over for a couple of minutes. Than nothing as they start coming up the stairs.

Bane waits patiently as he keeps his eyes to the basement opening. Slowly but surely the two females come out of the basment. Ones wearing an over coat as well as the other. They have their hands up in surrender as they approach Bane. Then the cat begins to run for the door. Bane flings Hyleia at the door completly blocking the exit as the hawk tries to grab Bane around the throat and activate something under her coat.

"You know I was raised to give ladies the right to choose and to be chivalrous. But i was also taught that if they do not accept these traits than I should just not try to push it or in this case." Bane says reaching over his shoulder and grabbing the hawks head.

"Do what needs to be done. Being honest here, i really, REALLY, hate to harm women, even if they are trying to kill me so someone can escape." Bane says as the hawk passes out in his hand and he adds her to the pile. He cracks his neck and walks towards the cat who is on the floor cowering. Bane touches her head with a finger and soon she is passed out on the floor. Reaching in his pocket Bane sighs and leans against the wall. He pulls out a crystal amd double taps it to start it up. A dog in a police officer uniform appears on the hologram.

"Hey, i got eight unconscious here that need a pick up. Bring cuffs and contact Mr Oswald, tell him i found his stolen goods." Bane says to the officer who salutes before hanging up. Bane pulls Hyleia from the doorway and puts her back in the sheath.

Bane: Suffice it to say that job was actually pretty easy. Than again I am not so well known to be outside the forest so its understandable why that bunch had no idea who i was. But i got paid a little bonus. Something i plain to hold on to till the moments right. For anyone curious what it is ask in DM. Im not such an idiot to reveal what it is to the public in the open. But i hope you enjoyed the adventure. Now im off to help build a book fort.

#sonic au #sonic oc #ask to tag #my ocs #bounty hunter #fandom #fanfic #fantasy #adventure #Bane

[lokibannerpool]

Update on the Mun

so i have been lurking on here for a while, not really doing any drafts or replies. I’m not abandoning this blog and these muses, I just haven’t had the motivation lately to be active on this account. I have been active on my other blogs for the most part. you can find me on @forcedintoperfection @thevirginandthefool @worldsfastestpredator @strongestcullen  @zorii-unknown and/or @brokenprincessofasgard  

Now for the shitstorm that is my life right now.

If you’re basically homeless and you know it clap your hands  *clap clap*

So we (by we I mean my mom, little brother and I) finally got evicted for reals like around Feburary-ish. My mom’s bright idea for temporary living was to move in with the worst person possible, her crazy ass aunt (on my grandpa’s side). 

Not only was the move stressful, but living here is terrible, and most of that is because my mother’s aunt (i have disowned her so no she’s not my great aunt) is doing everything in her power to make us feel unwelcome. Before I go into details, let me point out that my brother refused to come stay here because he has never felt welcome in this house, so he’s staying with family from our grandmother’s side (still crazy, but slightly more reasonable). And although I technically still have a room there, I did not stay because they hate animals and the great aunt that lives there once told me that if she could make it up the stairs to our old apartment she’d kill my cats. Later she denied it, but yeah... that’s the kind of crazy on that side’ of the family.

I was going to take my cats and live in a hotel from paycheck to paycheck. i had done the math and i could afford 7 days from one paycheck if i literally didn’t buy anything else, and the hotel had free breakfast i didn’t have to worry about food at least if i could save some of the breakfast for lunch then probably do dinner at a family member’s house. (yeah not the best plan but for me if I’m giving up my cats to a shelter I’m giving up on life. plus hotel accepted animals and was legit cheaper than a putting them in a pet hotel which would have been 22 a night per cat... i have 5 cats and a part time job) BUT low and behold my mother pulls some strings with the aunt (only after catching me crying on eviction day because I didn’t know what to do with my babies) and suddenly I can keep the cats as long as they stay in the basement. Not ideal, but more affordable for me so I take it.

Now back to the hell house I’m trapped in.

1) It took a while to move everything in, but I think we were almost full settled in by a Friday or Saturday night. On the Monday (which was like day 3 of living there) my mother’s aunt not only called me repeatedly on my phone, she kept yelling my name from the first floor. When I finally become conscious enough to go see what she wants, she is telling me that I sleep too much, It’s ridiculous how much I sleep, I need to go get a job, I’m not going to sleep my life away in HER house, yada yada, then she goes on about how by my age she was living on her own and paying off her own car (both were confirmed to be lies by sources that were alive at that time. crazy bitch was still sleeping in the bed with her mother at 22).. Now maybe you think that’s not so bad? but I forgot to mention one little detail. 

It was only 8:10 AM  and I had class at 10 am.

My alarm clock was literally set to go off 20 minutes from that time. Not only was it early as fuck, but I had a class to go to so it wasn’t like i was going to be staying in the house all day. SHE KNEW I HAD CLASS, THAT WAS WHAT PISSED ME OFF THE MOST. I had literally been discussing my classes with her for weeks prior to even moving in with her. Another thing that interested me was how she conveniently waited until my mother had left to start harassing me. anyway, so i get dressed because im mad as hell by this point, and i get ready to leave in under 15 minutes so we’re around 8:30am by this point. When I get downstairs she is demanding that I come into her room, and against my better judgement I do but I’m in no mood to talk. She takes one look at my face and asks me “why are you pissed off?”  As if she didn’t know why. I don’t want to curse her out because I wasn’t raised to do things like that so i keep my mouth shut. She keeps trying to get me to talk, and at this point angry tears that I have been trying so hard to hold back are falling and she tells me I’m being dramatic and I’m over reacting. I tell her I have to go to class more than once and she’s still demanding that I sit and talk with her, so I just walk out.    She calls my phone more than once but I don’t answer because I am a) driving and b) still mad as hell. she leaves voicemails. 1 saying that im being overreacting and stuff. the second comes a few hours later with a fake apology after she apparently talked to my mother. I later find out that she lied to my mom and told her that she forgot I had school, yet when I was not trying to talk to her she was telling me i had 2 hours before i had to be in class.. so yeah and that was only the start of day 3 of living there.

2) Fast forward a few days because in this family, we apparently just go on like nothing happened after conflicts like this. My mom comes to me in the morning and warns me that the aunt had threatened to call the human society to take my cats away because I ‘don’t spend enough time with them’. Which pissed off my mom as much as me because she’s seen what I’ve done for these cats in the past 2 years. (especially with Brenda, who is a rescue stray I took in after she was covered in tape by strangers and either dropped at our door or she limped her way up the stairs to us for help, and the two litters of kittens she had in our apartment) 

The aunt confronts me about this after I come down to feed them by asking me “do you really want the cats” and then telling me not to get an attitude when I say “of course I do” rather defensively. She tells me the b.s. she told my mom to which i point out that we literally just got here, i have classes 5 days a week and work 7 days a week. Plus, she’s usually sleep when I come in after work so she doesn’t see me dragging my aching body (still sore from doing the brunt of the moving) down to the basement to replace the food and water and spend time with them before I go to bed and I would literally be sleeping down there if it wasn’t for my mom nagging me about my health (which tbh comes second to the cats in my opinion but she disagrees). She doesn’t seem all that convinced, and my anxiety was through the roof for the longest because i wasn’t sure if i was going to come back to a cat-less basement after work. 

My therapist has been having an earful btw. Literally the week before I knew we were being evicted I spent most of a session trying to find something to talk to her about and now I have at least one new problem ever week. 

3) This woman has no respect for me or my mother. She’s verbally attacked my mother and berated her more than once. (today included) and at one point accused my mom of using her father for money(who died only 2 years prior, and who is the only one who took responsibility for making all the funeral arrangements and is still struggling to pay that bill because no one else wanted to help). This is sidetracking a little, but my mom did a lot for my grandfather. Brought his medical supplies with a loan she had taken out from her job, literally came to wash him up multiple times because his in house nurse wasn’t doing it, and pretty much ran every errand he asked for her and if she couldn’t do it she had me do it for her... so yeah to say she was using him was really fucked up and it really hurt my mom.

3.5) One morning (last week) i literally caught her and her ‘tenant’ (aka her brother’s ex girlfriend who he left for his wife 2 years ago and refuses to leave his family’s home) talking shit about me and my mom. How we’re dirty,  my mom walks too loud, complaining about us having mini conversations late at night (which only happened once), calling my mom fat, and saying that she’s not  ‘dainty’ and ‘feminine’ enough and they don’t know how she kept a man for so long... really just talking trash while im standing at the top of the stairs listening. I wait until they finish to say anything and they’re not even ashamed or apologetic. The aunt literally says “good. now you can tell your mom what i said” after  i said i heard just about all of it. She seemed offended when I refused to be her messenger. She then tried to talk shit about my mom to me, going as far to tell me that my mother a ‘fat slob’. And because I don’t want to be kicked out before we find a place, I have to bite my tongue and just walk away while she purposely baits me and tells me to ‘speak my mind’. 

There is so much more I could write about, like how she (a woman who has never had a cat in her life) is always telling me how to take care of my cats like I don’t know what I’m doing, yet she’s basing this all off the dog she had (but didn’t really want or take care of) over 10 years ago.  Or how she likes to try to provoke me or my mom (but mostly me because I’m the easier target I guess) whenever she’s bored. The fact that she forced cable boxes on us, then demanded my mom pay her $400 for the installation of the cable despite us both making it very clear we didn’t want it. How she’s always trying to say someone is trying to use her as if my mom isn’t paying $800 a month for two little ass rooms and a bathroom/kitchen we have to share with two other people And sooo much more. 

I’ve ended up self harming for the first time in about two-ish years while staying here. My suicidal thoughts are  happening very often and honestly I’ve turned to drinking my feelings away when I’m not cutting them away. I’ve literally been so stressed that my period disappeared for like 3 months (no im not pregnant. gotta be sexually active to get pregnant so yes its stress) and I’m pretty sure I’m developing some sort of repressed anger issues that I should probably mention to my therapist but I keep forgetting. 

So that’s pretty much what’s been going on in my life lately. 

And I don’t know how to end this so... there

#ooc #mun problems #mun rant #negativity tw #suicide tw #self harm tw #alcohol tw

[thepictoblr]

Okay as someone who actually benefits from stim videos due to being neurodivergant I went from "maybe popularizing stimming is a good thing? It might open discussions about stimming and how natural it is for everyone and ND people can stim in peace" to "can neurotypicals fuck off" so here's a list of grievances with mostly instagram "~Oddly Satisfying~" culture but also youtube too because im tired.

-repost accounts are a fucking nightmare and are fucking up everyone's original content. Like bitch dont celebrate your 20,000 followers cause you know how to screen record and ask really generic questions in your video descriptions.

-said repost accounts also like speed up videos with already fast music so it sounds like some sort of hellish nightcore. I am not here for hellcore i am here to de-stress.

-also with that said stop fucking putting music on stim vids cause if i have to hear nightcore havana one more fucking time

-small slime shops are good i enjoy them but when you see multimillion unrelated companies trying to get off on slime making like fucking elmers making ~slime glue~ which is just coloured glue and selling it for 5 bucks its just like "wow i totally didnt see that coming :/"

-personal gripe but i hate Giant things like GIANT SLIME or WATCH ME EAT 10 GIANT CORN DOGS like ew gross no your content isnt any more ~satisfying~ than regular sized shit you've now spent like 10 bucks on glue to make your slime big and its gonna dry up in a week congrats. Idk maybe i just dont like big things but the trend of making everything huge seems to be less about sensory stimming and more about views.

-im a fool, all of this is for views. Fuck nd people, gotta appeal to the masses and clickbait thumbnail the FUCK out of this video.

-Stop Using Floral Foam You Are Going To Get A Lung Infection.

-the fact that NT people are on this boat with us but refuse to respect us is almost not at all suprising like a supposedly calm space for asmr and chill sensory times is filled with loud bullshit almost everywhere.

-on the flipside, abelists who hate stim stuff are now even more ready to be fucking awful to us because sensory and stimming is being more popularized in a trendy way.

-whenever there's a video like "i try asmr videos" and its 15 minutes of them going "lol i dont get it why do people like this shit :/" its like bitch this isnt for you move the fuck on im crabby and hate you loitering. Bonus points then they do a part 2 cause they were asked to do it and they still dont like it but want that sick ad revenue so....

-i would kill for atleast 1 fucking youtuber or instagram person to be autistic and aim their content towards autistic people like litterally please give me that.

-also fatphobia in the mukbang community is fucking rife it's not even fucking hidden, y'all love it with a thin girl eats some massive plate of noodles or lobster or whatever but god forbid a fat person do the same thing.

-search "stimming" into youtube and you get endless videos of explaining autistic behaviour, usually aimed at neurotypical parents. Seach "asmr" or "oddly satisfying" and you get actuam visual stim videos. Because nt people have forgotten why this shit started

#im tired

[queen-of-deans-booty]

All Hell Breaks Loose Part One- Part 3

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1,932

Warnings: Typical Supernatural violence, language, angst, minor character death, blood, you know the usual

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. If you’re a junkie for this sort of thing, then a tag list is the right thing for you! If you want to be a Queen, I’ll add you to that list too! Any and all comments on these are appreciated. I really want to hear what you guys think about this one!

AHHHH This season is almost done!!!!! Just ONE more episode left! If you’ve been catching along with this series, this and the next episodes is what I wan to hear your thoughts on!

Feedback is the glue that holds my writing together.

Tags at the bottom

You jolted up with a gasped, seeing how it was morning already. You were glad no one killed or tried to kill you in your sleep. You woke up to Jake screaming at you and Sam to wake up. You looked over at Sam to see him jolt awake from the nightmare he probably had.

“Sam! Y/N! Wake up! Ava is missing!” Jake said, his eyes wide. That got you and Sam right up and the three of you rushed outside to go find her.

“Y/N will come with me and Jake, just try and find her.” Sam ordered, splitting from Jake before he had a chance to say anything else. You followed Sam, looking in the other houses and buildings that littered the town.

“She isn’t here.” You said, giving up. There were so many buildings here, you doubted she went this far out.

“Okay, let’s go back.” Sam said, walking back to the barn where he agreed to meet Jake at. As you got closer, you head an ear-splitting scream that came from Ava. It seemed as if she was back at the barn already.

You and Sam rushed to the barn, busting in. You gasped in horror and grabbed at Sam’s arm from what you saw. Ava, crying her eyes out at the fact that Andy was now lying in a pool of his own blood, dead.

“Oh! Sam! I just found him like this!” Ava screamed dramatically, making you narrow your eyes at her.

“What the hell happened?” He demanded.

“I don’t know!” Her voice squeaked up a bit.

“Cut the bullshit act, Ava.” You said with a glare. She glared at you, taking a step towards you.

“Excuse me? Our friend is dead!”

“Friend? Sam, come on. She is being such a drama queen right now. I am an expert on fake crying and that, right there, was an example of this. She did this to Andy! She killed him!” You said, accusing her.

“How dare you think I did this!” Ava yelled at you.

“Come on, Y/N, I don’t think we should blame her.” Sam started to say.

“Sam, you know how good I am when it comes to lying. I know she is lying,” You said, looking at the window sill behind Sam and nodding. You pointed to it and made Sam look. “How else do you explain the break in the salt? Andy wouldn’t do it, not when he was always scared of what was happening.”

“You believe her, Sam?” Ava asked, scoffing.

“You know, she’s right. You’ve been here for five months. You’re the only one with all that time you can’t account for. Plus, that headache you got? Right when the demon got Lily.” Sam said, putting you behind him. Ava went from this scared, overdramatic girl to one who was laughing, wiping the tears from her face.

“I had you two going, though, didn’t I? Yeah, I’ve been here a long time. However, I was never alone. People just kept showing up. Children, like us who came in batches of three or four at a time.” She said with a smile.

“You killed them? All of them?” Sam asked, horrified.

“I’m the undefeated heavyweight champ.” Ava said, proudly.

“Oh, my God.” You muttered. If only looks could kill…

“I don’t think God had much to do with this, Y/N.”

“How could you?” Sam asked, shocked still.

“I had no choice. It's me or them. After a while, it was easy. It was even kind of fun. I just stopped fighting who we are, Sam. If you'd just quit your hand-wringing and open yourself up, you have no idea what you can do. The learning curve is so fast, it’s crazy, the switches that just flip in your brain. I can’t believe I started out just having dreams. Do you know what I can do now?”

“Control demons.” You said.

“Ah, you’re quick which is good. You aren’t going to make it out of here alive, Y/N. It’s either going to be me, Jake or Sam who will kill you and I can guarantee that.” She raised her hand and you looked behind you to see the cloud of black smoke come through the window again.

Before anything could happen, Jake came up behind Ava and grabbed her head, snapping her neck easily, killing her. The demonic smoke left back out the window, glad not to be controlled anymore. You gasped and watched as he dropped her body like it was nothing.

He looked up and stared at you, the evil glint you saw when you first met him was now back in his eyes.

“Sam, come on.” You said, grabbing his hand and pulling him out of the barn. Jake chuckled and he followed you two, murder in his eyes.

“Jake, whatever you’re thinking, don’t. The demon is gone now. I think we can leave.” Sam said, seeing the look in his eyes. He had eyes for you but he wanted to murder you since it was what he was told to do.

“No, only one of us is making it out of here alive and it’s going to be me. But first, she needs to die. I had a vision of the Yellow-eyed Demon. He told me what needs to be done and I have to follow his orders or I will be the one to die and that isn’t happening.”

“No, Jake, you can’t listen to him. He lies, Y/N isn’t going to die. Neither of us will. We are going to get out here. We can kill that bastard together.” Sam tried to reason with him.

“How do I know you won’t turn on me?” He asked, unsure. You thought it would be best if you kept quiet, afraid of triggering something in him. He was already much stronger than you so it wouldn’t be a fair fight.

“We won’t, Jake.” You said very gently.

“I don’t know that.”

“Okay, look,” Sam said, taking the knife you found earlier and showed Jake, placing it on the ground to show some peace between the three of you. “Just come with us, Jake. Don’t play into his games. You’ll end up dead.”

After a moment or two, Jake nodded and placed his weapon on the ground next to Sam’s. You had a feeling this wasn’t over yet and that feeling proved to be true when Jake punched Sam. Jake, already being super duper strong, sent Sam flying through the air, crashing on the ground.

“Sam!” You yelled, glaring at Jake who was walking to you.

“You’re turn sweetheart. I’ll make it quick because you seem like a nice girl but this has to be done.” He said, getting closer to you. Panic surged through your veins and you didn’t know what to do. The weapons were behind Jake and Sam wasn’t much help right now. He will kill you if he got his hands on you.

You felt yourself panicking even more when he got closer and you shot your hands out to protect yourself. A burst of magic left your hands, hitting Jake right in the stomach, sending him toppling over. You gasped, thinking how you thought only anger or Dean being hurt would make this magic come out. But you guess panic will do the same thing.

Good to know.

You rushed to Sam, sliding on the ground when you got close enough to him. He groaned and looked at you, sitting up.

“Sam, we have to go.” You looked up to see and even more pissed off Jake come storming to you. He realized that he needed to get rid of Sam before he can get to you. You barely got Sam up on his feet when you felt the wind being knocked out of you.

Jake had used half of his strength to push you away from Sam, throwing in a few punches. Sam had enough of this and he punched back, fighting with Jake. You tried to catch your breath and you looked up to see Jake and Sam fighting, Jake winning.

You groaned and forced yourself to get on your feet, looking around until you spotted the weapons on the ground. You looked back at Jake and Sam, knowing Sam could hold his own for a while. You slowly moved to the weapons, keeping an eye on Jake who seemed to be too busy with Sam to even notice you.

You grabbed the iron rod that Jake carried instead of the knife. You didn’t want to kill him, no, just knock him out until you figured out what to do with him. You finally got enough air in your lungs to start running and when Sam looked like he had enough, you raised the rod, striking Jake on the head very hard.

You made sure not to kill him but he did go down, unconscious. You dropped the rod and then that’s when you heard it.

“Y/N! Sam!” You looked up and smiled when you saw Dean and your dad, with flashlights.

“Dean!” You were so glad he was okay. You grabbed Sam’s arm and put it over your shoulder to help him walk since he was weak from the beating he took.

“Dean! Bobby!” Sam said with a weak smile, slowly but surely walking closer to them.

“Sam! Y/N! Look out!” You only had enough time to turn your head to see Jake coming at you with the knife. Your eyes widened and you shoved Sam out of the way so he wouldn’t get hurt. You were going to use your magic but it was too late.

You froze when the blade of the knife sliced through your body, coming out the other end. You gasped and looked down, seeing the bloody tip of the blade that was right through your chest. Jake twisted the knife and you gurgled up blood as he pulled you closer.

“I told you, you weren’t leaving here alive.” He said before taking the blade out and running away.

“No!!!” Dean yelled, making a run for you as you fell to the ground and on your knees. You knew what was going to happen next but you weren’t sure if Dean or even Sam was ready for that. Dean slid to the ground in front of you, seeing how pale you looked.

He grabbed at your shirt, trying to get you to look at him but you could feel your life slipping away. Sam rushed and got up, not caring about himself as he checked your wound.

“Dean, it’s bad.” Sam said. Dean pressed his hand over your wound but the blood kept pouring out. You leaned forward in Dean’s arms, too weak to hold yourself up.

“Hey, Y/N, look at me, okay? It’s not that bad. Don’t listen to Sam. Y/N! Y/N, please look at me,” Dean said with tears in his eyes., You so badly wanted to look at him but you didn’t; couldn’t. “Don’t worry, we’re going to patch you right up. You’re going to be as good as new.” Dean touched your face but you were just on the brink of death. You watched as Bobby ran after Jake, leaving you alone with Sam and Dean.

“Dad…” You said as you took your last breath. Your body slumped forward in Dean’s arms as your eyes slid close, lying in Dean’s arms.

“No! No, no, no, no, no, Oh, God, Sammy! Sam! Do something! No!!!” Dean yelled, letting the tears fall freely. There was nothing Sam or even Dean could do now.

You were dead.

The Queens:

@maddieburcham1 @ginamsmith​ @mogaruke​ @whit85-blog​ @inlovewithbja​ @spn67-sister​ @kdfrqqg​ @jarpadandjensenaremyheroes​ @roxyspearing​ @supercalifragilistic26 @mishamigose​ @cobrakai1967​ @essie1876​ @wishedworld​ @crispychrissy​ @laqueus-ludovicus​ @nostalgic-uncertainty​ @jerk-bitch-and-an-angel​ @potterhead1265​ @starswirlblitz​  @untitled39887​ @ta-n-ja​ @deans-fallen-angel-boy @scarletluvscas @notnaturalanahi​ @tahbehonest​ @stay-in--place​ @dreaminofdean @posiemax​ @donnaintx​ @mikey1822​ @alexandriajanae4​  @li-ssu​ @just-another-winchester​ @obsessivecompulsivespn​ @emoryhemsworth​ @newtospnfandom​ @mizzezm​  @goldenolaf25​ @jessikared97​ @wh1sp3r1ng-impala​ @charliebradbury1104​    @queen-of-moons-peace-out-bitches @becs-bunker​ @atc74​ @lemonchapstick​

The Dean Beans:

@akshi8278​ @mega-mrs-dean-winchester​ @winchesterandpie​ @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester​ @carribear31​ @tacklesackles​ @oreosatmidnight​ @not-naturalfangirl​ @missselinakitty​ @iam-a-cutiepie​  @kristendansmith​ @milo-winchester-4ever​ @jensenackesl​ @codyshany316​ @pheonyxstorm​ @helllonearth​ @juniorhuntersam​ @pouterpufftrain​ @ruprecht0420​ @shut-ur-face-and-get-in-the-car @carriemichelle2012​ @aubreystilinski​

Series Rewrite Junkies:

@helllonearth​ @amyisabellal​ @deanwnchstr​ @caseykitten6​ @quixoticcat​ @supernaturalblogging​ @notmoose45​ @crowleysminion​ @mina22​ @tahbehonest​ @hadleymcallister2177 @destielsangels​ @spnhybrid @oreosatmidnight​ @valerieshubin​ @seninjakitey​ @flyonlittlewinchester​ @aubreystilinski​ @rocketqueeens​  @emilygracespellins​ @earthtokace​

#supernatural series rewrite #all hell breaks loose part one #dean winchester #dean winchester angst #dean winchester x reader #spn series rewrite #dean x reader #dean x you #dean x reader insert #dean #dean angst #dean fic #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fanfiction #series rewrite #series rewrite masterlist #dean winchester series rewrite #season 2 episode 21 #s2e21 #s2e21 spoilers #spoilers #spn #spn spoilers #supernatural #supernatural spoilers #sam #sammy #Sam Winchester #bobby #bobby singer

[bethlehembroclub-blog]

chapter 3 - everyone’s dancing merrily

written by @sweatereddies​ and @gingerbreddie​

word count: 5.3k

pairings: reddie, stenbrough, benverly

warnings: swearing, drug/alcohol use, dwayne the rock johnson in a santa suit

want on the tagslist?

new chapters almost every day in december, follow us for future updates!

“Come on you guys, we’re gonna be late!” Ben called up the stairs, as he adjusted his watch clasp.

“I’m trying, Eddie’s hogging the bathroom!” Stan yelled back. He heard the faint sound of Eddie’s quipped protests and rolled his eyes.

“I’m leaving in five minutes!” He responded, walking into the kitchen to grab the case of beer they had bought. Bev hadn’t said it was specifically a BYOB party, but Ben felt bad bringing four people and no booze.

Stan came tumbling down the stairs. “Fuck it, do I look okay?” He gestured down at his outfit, a rather complimentary blue shirt and his nicer jeans.

“Yeah, you look fine.” Ben said after a cursory glance. His brow furrowed, looking back at Stan. “Why? You never care.”

Stan looked around, clearly planning an excuse. “I don’t know, okay? I just wanted to…”

“Yeah, yeah.” Ben smiled. “You don’t have to make shit up. I know you wanna impress someone. Question is, who’s gonna be there that you care so much about?” Ben said, leaning against the kitchen counter.

Stan’s face flushed. “No one, Haystack.”

“Alright, fine, I won’t press.” He threw his hands up. “But whoever it is does need my official Bro Approval, so tell me soon, yeah?”

Stan laughed exasperatedly, rolling his eyes. “Whatever.”

“Guys, have you seen my inhaler?” Eddie said, leaning over the landing on the stairs.

“You don’t have asthma, Eddie.” Stan deadpanned.

“Fuck you Uris, I’ve got something, I need it.”

“You haven’t needed it since seventh grade.” Ben said plainly. “Are you that nervous?”

Eddie fumbled with the hem of his shirt, glancing between the two boys. “Um..”

“You’ll feel a lot better once you have one of these in you.” Ben smirked, tearing open the box of beer and tossing a can to Eddie, who surprisingly caught it. “But seriously, if you don’t want to stay you don’t have to. They’re our neighbors, you can go home.”

Eddie eyed the can in his hands. “I don’t want to be too scared to go to a fucking dumb party.” Eddie muttered quietly.

“Then show up and smash the thing, man. Let loose, you deserve it.” Stan said.

Eddie cracked the tab on the beer, taking a swig. “I’ll go.” He said after he swallowed. “But I don’t know if I’ll have fun.”

“I think you will.” Ben supplied. “Like I said, Mike Hanlon knows how to throw a fucking party.”

Eddie sighed, taking another deep drink. “Jesus Christ.” He cringed at the taste. “Okay. Well the only way I’m gonna have an even mildly good time is if I have at least half this damn case to myself.”

“Done.” Ben laughed. “But that means you have to carry it over.”

Eddie finished the last few steps of the stairs and the last of the liquid in the can. He tossed it in their recycling as he passed it, and then lifted the case up. “Let’s go, then?”

______________________________________________________________

After locking up behind them (the three were the only ones left in the house after Chris had left that morning) the boys set off down the street, Eddie carting the case of beer under his arm. He huffed a bit under the weight of it, but kept thinking to himself about how light it would be once he's done with it.

Even from their vantage point, a good few houses away, they could hear the pounding music. It sounded like someone had put a Christmas song through some kind of alien machine, making it come out garbled and remixed in classic electronica fashion. Eddie scrunched up his nose; he hated nothing more than a shitty remix.

Stan kept his hands in his pockets, the crisp late November air nipping at his fingertips. He was grateful for the short walk.

The house in question looked like his store threw up on it. He even recognized the the giant light fixture of the leg lamp from A Christmas Story from when he’d seen it on their website earlier. He snorted at the sight, rolling his eyes at the tackiness of the entire yard. They'd certainly gone all out on the decorations; icicle lights hung loosely from the roof, where an old couch was perched, a fake santa with a beer in his hand balanced haphazardly on it. The yard was already littered with loose cans and cups, though Stan had a suspicion that they were already there before the party.

“Is- is that a couch?” Eddie faked a wretch, eyes laid skeptically on the santa.

“I do believe it is.” Ben said with a laugh. He found the whole display quite clever.

“I'm having second thoughts.”

“Don't think.” Stan said, stealing a can of beer from the box clutched in Eddie’s arms. “Drink.” Stan opened it and took a swig.

“I hate when you're right.” Eddie griped, reaching into the box for another can as they climbed the steps to the door.

Ben grabbed the handle and pushed it open, revealing an entryway stuffed with discarded outerwear. Beyond the room there was a hallway already filled with people milling around, and openings on either side to continue on into the house. Eddie swallowed nervously.

Ben glanced down at his phone as it buzzed in his hands. A text from Beverly read: hey, im here, where are u?

“I'm gonna go find Bev and grab some real drinks, wanna come with?” Ben said to the boys.

“No way. I’m staying right here.” Eddie said nervously, holding the case close to his chest. “I don't wanna get lost in there.”

“Fine, I'll be right back.” Ben rolled his eyes and left into the swarm of the house. Stan made to follow him but was stopped by Eddie’s arm.

“Don't leave me here.” Eddie squeaked, giving Stan a pleading look.

Stan rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Eddie, I’m not gonna hang around in the doorway all night. Unlike you I came here to have fun.”

Eddie gulped. “Fine.” He said after a pause. “But I’m parking on the first couch we see.”

Stan smiled and dragged Eddie off to the right, the opposite of where Ben had gone.

______________________________________________________________

Richie Tozier was not having a good night. Sure the party had started out as planned; all the decorations had gone up the way they wanted them to, and everything was in its place. Booze was flowing, people were partying, and by all intents and purposes, accounts and definitions, they had the best holiday party on the block. But every bit of it was unsatisfying. They’d already prepared for Christmas, decked in every single bit of tinsel they could possibly get their grimy paws on. They were ready to start the first weekend of the holidays with a bang proclaiming to everyone in the community that they were there to play this year. A preliminary to their holiday bash, they took special care in setting up excitement for future drinking games. They had posters with the rules written on them hastily tacked up on the walls so people could read them, become familiar with them, and laugh egregiously at them before the destined date. But as Richie passed them walking through the house, red solo cup in hand, he couldn’t help but feel a little bit of disdain. What fun was a good drinking game if you didn’t have someone special to share it with?  He knew he was being sappy; it was a ridiculous thought. But it was important to him to start really expanding his friend base. He’d been so close with Mike and Bill for so long, he’d forgotten what it was like to branch out beyond that. All of his other relationships were incredibly superficial. Almost anyone in his life was there because of a connection, or for business purposes. He found himself longing for companionship, for the first time in a long time, and it kind of freaked him out. He wasn’t looking for love, at least he thought he wasn’t, until earlier that day he’d gone out with Mike and Bill to grab supplies, and ran into the beautiful boy from across the way. It was frightening though, because he’d realized he’d put his foot in his mouth and overly flirted the first time he’d seen the boy. He did call Richie an asshole first, though.

Richie knew that his chances with the boy were probably slim. But he was supposed to be at the party, and maybe that was why Richie was feeling so listless. He’d seen nothing of Ben Hanscom, or curly haired Stan, or the beautiful brunette he’d been so excited to see tonight, and that was really the reason for the sinking pit in his stomach. He’d gotten his hopes up way too much that morning, out buying decorations and filling up the back of Mike’s truck with the boys. He’d been thinking all day about the look on Eddie’s face when he saw their tacky santa on the roof, or his particular favorite of the drinking games, one themed after Spider-man. He then realized he was unsure of what Eddie’s reaction would even be. How could he possibly gauge what the boy would say in response to their tacky christmas decorations? Eddie has been displeased with his terrible James Bond reference, and probably wouldn't enjoy the many allusions to Tom Holland’s voice cracks in the aforementioned game. But part of him hoped that Eddie secretly had a side to him that would enjoy these sillier things. He’d heard through the grapevine, aka Mike and Ben, that Eddie really had a fun side to him, especially when he was drunk, which was why Richie was so excited to see him at the party. He wanted to see that side of Eddie set loose. But how could he do that if Eddie wasn't there? These thoughts swirled around him as he sat on the couch in between Mike and Bill, who were chatting with some of their friends as they set up a game of beer pong for the night. Richie clutched his cup in his hand and rested his head on his chin, boredly gazing around the room, waiting for more people to walk in. Bill elbowed his side and spoke.

“W-Whats got you so down, T-Tozier? We worked so f-fucking hard on tonight, w-w-why are you not c-celebrating with the rest of u-us?”

“I don’t know Billiam, I guess I’m just in a bad mood.”

“A bad m-mood? It’s our e-e-end of the year party, you s-should be ecstatic, no more fucking ho-homework!”

“I know, I know, I'm really excited about that and I wanna party tonight but.. I was hoping the little germaphobe would show up.”

Bill laughed, looking to Mike for assistance, but he was deep in conversation with the boys setting up the table. Rolling his eyes, he turned back to Richie.

“O-Of course you are. But look, he s-said he said he w-w-was coming with Stan and Ben so j-just be patient and wait for him to show up. G-Get a few drinks in you, you’ll start feeling more excited about the whole thing.”

“Alright alright, I’ll loosen up.”

Richie stood, downing his drink in one go, preparing himself to cross over into the kitchen to grab more. But after he turned his gaze up from the empty cup in his hands, he saw none other than Eddie Kaspbrak himself walking into the living room from the entryway, Stan Uris and his curly hair by his side, a sixteen pack of beer under his right arm. One of the cans was clutched in his hand. Richie could practically see his white knuckle grip on the thing. Eddie was glancing around the room nervously, looking at the decorations, the people, the beer pong table; Stan was smiling abstractly and taking it all in, a beer in his hand as well, already open and much more loosely gripped.

Richie broke out into a grin. This was the time of night that he was really looking forward to.

______________________________________________________________

“Hey there handsome, finally decided to show up!” Bev’s singsong voice called to Ben as he walked into the kitchen.

“Hey there Bevie. Finally got Eddie to get out of that house, he’s been fussing forever.”

Bev laughed, passing a cup to Ben. It was clearly a drink she’d just poured for herself, but she offered it to him anyways. “Go figure, I thought he was gonna take all night to get the courage. But you did get him here?”

Ben took a small drink of the cup she’d just supplied. “In the flesh.” He let out with a laugh.

“Good, then let’s get him ready.” She went to pour another drink.

“He’s already got his beers for the night, I think he’ll be fine in a little while. But Stan’ll probably want something.” Ben supplied

“Sounds good to me.” Bev called over her shoulder as she began to mix Stan a drink, and then a follow up one for herself.

“So is this party everything I hoped it’d be? Ben said leaning against the counter where she worked, cup in hand, taking another small sip.

“Its shaping up to be,” She smiled. “I think they're holding back just a little bit because they wanna save us all the big shit for Christmas, but as far as end of term parties go, it’s the only one on the market and it sure as hell doesn’t suck.” She smiled, taking a large sip of the drink she just mixed for herself, grimacing a little bit as it went down.

“Any plans for the evening, or is it just a mixer?”

“Well I know somebody's setting up beer pong right now, and I think we might have a tournament going on, but other than that, I think just a quick few samples of the drinking games that are planned for the bashes coming up.”

“Yeah, I saw the posters.” Ben laughed

“Apparently the boys are trying to get the buzz around and tell people to prepare themselves for ones they have planned. I heard they're gonna do sort of uh.. Run up style parties, every other day over the break.”

“Holy shit, that’s ambitious.” Ben said after taking another drink.

Bev smirked behind her cup. “You're telling me.”

The two drank a little bit in awkward silence before Ben decided to speak up. “I'm gonna go take Stan his drink, okay?”

Bev gave him a strange look, before reaching down to interlock her fingers with his. “I'll come with you. We’re at this party together, right?”

He smiled to himself, a small blush on his cheeks. “Yeah, I guess we are.”

______________________________________________________________

Stan had never been one to understand Christmas traditions. The whole holiday was incredibly pointless to him. Being of a rather devout Jewish family, he’d always celebrated Hanukkah and followed their traditions, leaving Christmas to the crazies at the country club. But after working a couple years in retail and attending enough Christmas parties, he was aware enough of the holiday-esque things that many associated with the season. He knew about the tinsel, he knew about the lights, he knew about the trees, although none of it made any fucking sense, he knew about it. Just like anyone who grew up in anglo saxon America he could look at any Christmas item and think ah yes, that is in fact related to the holidays. What he couldn't fathom however was what a giant cardboard cutout of Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson in a santa outfit had anything to do with Christmas (other than the red and white suit of course). Yet here it was, in the corner of the living room that he had just walked into, surrounded by its own strings of christmas lights, tinsel strewn around it and the floor in front of it, appearing as though it at just been thrown at the poster itself. He chuckled to himself a little bit; he had to admit the decorations were pretty hilarious, and anyone who was drunk of their ass and looking for a laugh at two in the morning would find them quite entertaining. But as far as a party went? This was what qualified for the best party in all of college town? Stan scoffed. He knew how to throw a fucking party. It wasn't just about getting drunk, though he had been prompting Eddie all day that it was. He knew better. Parties weren't just about drinking. Drinking was the cherry on top. Ambiance was what you had to go for. Put together decorations, that actually took effort, and looked nice when you were finished with them, incredibly clever and well thought out games, different activities for everybody to do while they were drunk, now that was how you threw a party. And this living room where half the patrons were milling around or sitting and waiting for the beer pong table to be set up, Stan knew this was not anywhere close to a satisfactory party. His own self sense of pride inflated him, and he took another drink of the beer before his eyes landed on Richie Tozier, and his two friends from earlier, who were gathered on the couch as the table was being set up.

Richie was staring at Stan and Eddie like they’d just brought the sun. A huge smile was painted across his face, the empty cup he was holding falling from his hand as he eyed them. Stan knew the smile wasn't for him; he could tell from their interaction earlier that day that Richie had become instantly infatuated with Eddie, something which he thought was endlessly hilarious; way funnier than the cardboard cut out of The Rock in the corner. He glanced out of the corner of his eye to gauge Eddie's reaction and was not disappointed. The poor boy looked like he’d short circuited. Clearly Eddie was planning on avoiding Richie as much as possible at the party, and the first person he ran into was none other than the boy himself. Stan laughed a little at the situation, until he noticed Richie's brooding friend emerging from the couch to come join them as well. He took a moment to size up the boy again to get a better grasp on him than what he had from their interaction earlier. He still thought the boy reminded him of a vampire. He was absurdly pale and seemed to look like he never got any sleep, probably from all the partying. Contrary to his appearance in the harsh light of day, under the soft multi color glow of the Christmas lights his face held a sort of gentle kindness to it. Stan found himself a little bit mesmerized taking in the sight. As the boy walked over to them, he could hear Eddie's faint stammering as his brain tried to catch up with his eyes, but he offered no assistance to the conversation, instead deciding to pretend like he was studying a poster on the walls over the shoulder of the boy who'd introduced himself as.. Will? He couldn't remember. Richie broke the silence first.

“There you are pretty boy, I was hoping you would show up!” He threw his arms out and made an awkward gesture, as if he was going to hug Eddie, and then seemingly remembered that the boy abhorred strangers touch. Eddie groaned and turned to Stan.

“You know what Stan, actually, I just remembered that I left the oven on, so I need to go home right now immediately.” Stan threw Eddie into a headlock.

“Fat chance, Kaspbrak, you’re in for the night.” The smaller of the two boys across from them laughed..

“Whatta good f-friend you are, Stan.”

Stan laughed a little bit to himself. “If Ben's gonna be running off all night with Beverly, I need my party buddy here too. So Eddie is not allowed to go home.”

Richie raised an eyebrow. “Sorry Stan, but I'm gonna have to officially claim him as my party buddy. See, I threw this whole shindig here for Mr. Kaspbrak.” He cocked an elbow, resting a hand on his hip.

Eddie blanched. “You did what?”

Richie and Bill both laughed. “N-No you fucking d-didn't Tozier, don't be a shit.”

“You can't prove anything Billiam.” Richie said through his giggle. “Anyways Eddie, I'd really like to spend some quality time with you.” He wiggled an eyebrow.

Eddie rolled his eyes. “I’d like to spend some quality time with your couch, which is where you will find me the remainder of the evening.” With that he pushed his way through the two boys in front of him, entire case of beer still in his hands, and sat down on the corner of the couch that Richie and Bill had just vacated. He sat with the whole case in his lap, it practically dwarfing him, and his single unopened beer can still in his hands. He took a moment to look down at it, almost ceremoniously, before cracking it open and drinking the whole thing in one fell swoop. Richie watched him in awe, jaw dropping slightly open.

“Holy shit.” he whispered to himself. Bill clapped him on the back.

“You pick em fine, Tozier.” He laughed before turning to Stan. “C’mon Uris, I'll t-take you to the kitchen a-and show you the lineup we’ve got for tonight.”

Stan cocked an eyebrow. “Oh, so I see all of the effort today went to the booze selection.”

Bill’s eyebrows shot up in response. “E-Excuse me? All o-o-of the effort?”

Stan laughed to himself. “Yeah, I mean it's not like you guys went hard on decorations or anything.”

Richie had already left them behind to go pester Eddie on the couch, leaving Bill without a paddle. He glared at Stan a little bit. “I-I’ll have you know it took us a-a good hour and a-a-a half to get s-santa on the roof, couch a-and everything.”

Stan snorted. “If you ask me it's an hour and a half you could've spent working a little bit harder on the inside of the house. But that's just my opinion.” He shrugged a shoulder and turned towards the kitchen, Bill following.

“Our decorations are lit, Uris. Y-You're just jealous cause you're n-not having a p-p-party at your frat.”

Stan laughed as the boy followed him. “Oh trust me, I am glad this is not happening at my house. The cleanup? Can you imagine?”

Bill crossed his arms as they reached the counter, Stan surveying it to find a drink.

“I can i-imagine, I clean up after every p-party we have here.”

“Well by the looks of the cups on the lawn you didn't do a very good job last time.”

Bill gasped slightly, offended. “T-Those were there when you g-got here cause the p-p-party already started!”

Stan laughed as he poured himself a rum and coke. “Yeah, and they were also there when we ran into you this morning outside. So, try again. Bill was, it?” He said over his cup, turning around to lean against the counter as he took a sip of his drink. Bill's face was flushed red, his competitive side clearly coming out, uninhibited by his usual social graces as he was already a good few drinks in.

“Is that a challenge, Uris?”

Stan shrugged again. “I wouldn't know.”

Bill frowned, taking a moment to think over the statement. It was a little bit too advanced for his drunk brain to handle.

“Stan, there you are!” Ben said, rounding a corner from the other way into the kitchen. “We were just looking for you, Bev made you a drink.”

“Oh sweet, thanks, I’ll have it after I finish this one.” Stan said genially, turning to Ben and Bev who had just entered the room.

“Bill, hey, what's up?” Bev called to the other boy, who was still standing with his face red and his arms crossed.

“Hi Bev.” He muttered, perturbed.

“Not having a good time at your own party?” Bev tried, jokingly, but clearly Bill wasn't in the mood. He just continued staring at Stan, who was busy filling Ben in on what had just went down with Eddie and Richie. Ben was laughing, Bev was watching him laugh, Stan was laughing, Bill was watching him laugh, and the whole thing was too much for Denbrough. He took a second to pour himself a drink before exiting the room.

______________________________________________________________

After about two minutes of being met with nothing but short one word answers to all of his questions, Richie grew a little bit bored of pestering Eddie. He knew he needed another drink, and Eddie had swatted his hand away when he tried to steal one of the beers. So he decided to give it a moment and go get another margarita. Sighing to himself, he went into the kitchen, which was thankfully empty. He poured himself something strong. He downed the whole thing, and then poured another. This he would sip on the couch with Eddie, hopefully at some point having some kind of real conversation. He couldn't figure out quite why it was that Eddie so desperately disliked him. But he had a feeling that the negative behavior was mostly coming from the fact that Eddie didn't look look like a party boy. He seemed to be thoroughly not enjoying himself, the sweaty bodies and spilled drinks all around him, the general messiness of Richie's house (which he could admit was worse than he would have liked). All of it was probably too much for a guy who wouldn't even wanna shake hands with someone. He figured that the more beers Eddie got down, (who seemed to be drinking them out of sheer nervousness, with no thought for how many he'd gone through already) that he would be more loose and willing to at least initiate conversation. Richie knew somewhere deep in the back of his mind that he was definitely looking for a hookup. He hadn't had a good fuck in months, and Eddie was beautiful. But he also knew that unless physical contact was initiated but the other boy he wouldn't even try with it. What he really wanted to break tonight was their barrier just as people. He wanted to at least get them onto a friend basis so he could continue to see the boy and talk to him. But this wouldn't happen if Eddie completely refused to carry a conversation. So his goal was clear; get Eddie drunk and get him to talk. With this in mind he went back into the living room. Eddie meanwhile had sat on the couch, praying and begging that Richie would get dragged off by someone who wanted to play some stupid drinking game with him. He started in on his third beer, silently hoping to himself that Richie would just leave him alone. Mike Hanlon was still in the room, beer pong game finally set up, and was currently refereeing for the two boys who were facing off. Eddie watched him absentmindedly in between drinks. Mike seemed like a nice enough guy; he had Ben’s approval and really didn't act too much like he was hot shit. Eddie could see having a good relationship with him, friendship wise, of course. But he didn't really know where else they'd run into each other rather than party scenes. Perhaps they could invite the other three frat boys over to their friendsgiving. The fleeting thought surprised Eddie; he wasn't usually one to try and reach out to new people. He’d had too many instances of getting scorned by someone who turned out to be just looking for a quick hookup or totally uninterested in any kind of friendship relationship. He was content with the friends that he had, and he knew that if he made any more it would be because they came into their friend group, not vise versa. Although he had a sneaking suspicion, and fear, that that was what was occurring as the minutes grew on. He knew for a fact that Ben was enjoying himself, and he knew Stan was gonna have a great night, which only meant one thing. His friends were getting sucked in, and they were going to very much continue going to the dumb Omega Nu parties, which meant Eddie would be constantly dragged along with them. He sighed, finishing off his can. It was gonna be a long night for sure. Just as he was sitting and steeping in his despondence, Richie came back over to him.

“Didn’t miss me too much, didya Eddie?” Richie joked as he settled in next to him, a little too close for Eddie’s taste but at this point he was really getting tired of trying to push the boy away.

“Not even a little bit.” He griped, cracking open his fourth can.

Richie laughed at him. “Jesus Eds, planning on drinking that whole thing yourself tonight?”

Eddie gave him a side-eyed look. Did this fucker just give me a nickname? A really shitty one at that?

“My name isn’t fucking Eds.”

“I'll take that as a yes.” Richie laughed to himself. He took a moment to take a drink out of his cup as well. Eddie pondered for a bit about what was in it, but decided it was better not to know. He was just fine with beer and he didn’t wanna fuck with anything stronger. Richie suddenly seemed to loosen up a little bit, but not in a way of relaxation, but rather kind of the opposite. It was like he was untightening the reigns that he had on his casual appearance.

“.. I know we started off on the wrong foot, but I’m really not as big of an asshole as I’m coming across.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “Really. I’m having a difficult time believing that.”

“I’m serious! If you’d just take some time to get to know me, I’m sure you’d actually start to like me.” He smirked.

Eddie blanched a little bit at his forwardness. Unsure of what to say, he just closed his mouth and let Richie continue speaking.

“Unless you’d rather sit here by yourself moping around all night, while all your friends are off having fun.”

Eddie looked between the boy with the glasses and the beer can in his hand, taking a moment to mull over his decisions.

“Well, suit yourself then.” Richie got up as if to leave.

He supplied his thoughts with another wash of beer.

“You know what? Fine.”

Eddie knew one thing; he wasn’t fucking drunk enough for this.

______________________________________________________________

The porch light was still flickering, Bev noticed. She’d been here about two months ago for a party and came outside for a smoke and realized that their back porch light was probably in the process of going out. Every once in awhile it would flicker, signaling that it was running low on energy. She stared at it now absentmindedly as she quickly smoked her cigarette, trying to get it out of the way for the evening. She knew she could survive on one, especially if she was drinking, but it had been a few hours since her last one and she was getting a little antsy. Ben and Stan kindly agreed to go outside with her, though stood a little ways apart and upwind. The three of them carried on small talk well enough; she felt comfortable with the two boys and a little buzz going. They seemed to be enjoying themselves. Stan kept making cracks about the decor, Ben continuing to make jokes with him about Eddie's experiences inside, and all three of them were having a great time discussing a terrible professor they shared their freshman year. It was shaping up to be a great evening, and Bev was truly enjoying herself.

______________________________________________________________

authors notes: the drinking game mentioned? take a shot every time tom’s voice cracks in spiderman homecoming. try it. i dare u. 

tagslist: @ayyyymichele @megelizabethvh @flickerflies @beepbeep-losers @tapetayloe @gazeboseddie  @finnwollfhards @lemonadeandrice @i-is-gazebo @turtleneckrichie @reddieaddict @liznielsen19

#bbc fic #bethlehem bro club #bethlehem bro club fic #it #it 2017 #it 2017 fic #it fic #reddie #benverly #stenbrough #reddie fic #stenbrough fic #benverly fic #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #ben hanscom #mike hanlon #bill denbrough #stan uris #stanley uris #beverly marsh #bev marsh #it edit #it 2017 edit #college au #reddie college au #stenbrough college au #benverly college au #losers club #the losers club

[michaelmyersmalewife]

LEVIATHAN | 9. The Mass Awakening | MASTERLIST

words: 8k+

A/N: im back!! with an extra long chapter lmao (and i tried to fit as much as i could without this chapter becoming a novel in and of itself ;v; ); anyway this is more of an interlude than an actual chapter but id pay attention to certain sections in this one, they're important (and kudos to the ones that are gonna get it i hope i executed it well enough jsgksf)

you can also support this fic on wattpad & ao3

Sedona, Arizona - Monarch Outpost 55 - Titanus Scylla

Alan drove down the winding road through the canyon that lead to the oil fields, admiring the view as he always did.

For forty years, he'd been taking this same drive, and for forty years he still found something to love about it. He remembered his father bringing him here, telling him that the canyon's stone, carved by mother nature's hands herself, had existed since the Permian period. And he remembered taking his kids, playing in one of the nearby creeks and looking for fossilized shells from a land lost to time. Alan has always been a paleontologist at heart, but that wasn't as reliable a job as working at the pipeline.

When he reached the field, pulling his truck around the small metal shed that passed for an office, he stepped out into the Arizona heat. He stood there for a moment, fingers hooked in the belt loops of his coveralls as he watched the rig's pumpjacks bobbing up and down like the drinking bird toy he had as a kid. They were, of course, drinking oil rather than water - or as his daughter Lucy liked to put it, "sucking the earth's blood".

There were other workers around, and about half a mile away he saw the government guys that hung around the area running around like chickens without heads. He squinted, they weren't usually this busy. A couple years back, they had taken some land near the fields, the reason being some sort of bio-hazard. It didn't matter to him, just so long as they didn't interfere with his work.

"Hey, Alan." Sawyer said, sticking his head out of the shed.

He nodded, clocking in.

"You get my text?" he asked.

"No, why?" Alan asked, pulling his phone out.

"It's your seismograph. Was goin' nuts not too long ago." he led him inside.

"Huh.." Alan hummed to himself. That thing was something he had helped his son, Evan, build nearly thirty years ago. It was mostly for fun, as his son had a knack for that sort of thing. Looking at it now, Sawyer was right. The usually flat line was now a mess of scribbles, as if there had just been an earthquake. As he watched, waves continuing to spike, he felt a rumble beneath his feet. The shed had also begun to rattle.

"You think it's one of the rigs?"

"I dunno, but I don't like it."

Alan stepped outside, looking at the field with a more critical gaze.

"I don't -"

The ground beneath him exploded, and something long and dark jutted out of it, arching over like a giant hook. He stepped back inside so hard he banged his arm against the door.

"Holy mother of.." Sawyer's voice trailed off.

Outside, more of those things were sticking up, jamming into the ground. Jointed, covered in bristle-like hairs the size of the shed, the earth jumped as the thing lifted itself up. With a metallic groan, the pumpjacks slid into the hole it left.

It.

He was barely aware that he and Sawyer were about twenty feet away from the pit it was pulling itself out of. He felt paralyzed, his mind overwhelmed by a primal fear, an instinct coded deep within the brains of his ancestors when they were still prey to things like this. The giant spider legs rose hundreds of feet in the air, holding a bulbous body and a face full of squirming tentacles that hung below a pair of emotionless eyes. It was like a cuttlefish on stilts.

Lucy, Evan, he thought, picturing their faces.

"The goddamndest thing." Sawyer said in breathless disbelief.

It was the last thing he ever heard.

Munich, Germany - Monarch Outpost 67 - Titanus Methuselah

The cork sprung from the bottle with a loud pop, sailing across the meadow with the breeze.

"Don't litter, Hugo." Mila said, not looking away from her canvas.

He ignored her complaint as he took out various snacks from the cooler.

"It's biodegradable."

"Right," she said, looking at the mountain range ahead of her before going back and mixing more colors onto her palette. "Still littering."

With a roll of his eyes he poured the drink into two plastic cups, handing her one. Narrowing her eyes, she took it, taking a sip.

"This was where I grew up, you know." she said, pointing her paintbrush beyond the canvas. "See that mountain there?"

He didn't question the sudden change in subject, so instead he played along, glancing over at the mountain rising above the trees. The same one she was painting.

"What about it?" he asked, popping a cheese square into his mouth.

"My grandfather told me it wasn't always there, that there was a village instead. It was pretty average, you know, quaint. But," she stopped to take another sip of her drink. "They 'wasted the land', he'd say. That the river that ran through town and just down over there," she nodded to the clear blue stream that trickled not to far behind them. "Had turned brown, murky. You know why?"

Hugo chuckled, knowing where this was going. "Maybe. And what happened to this town?"

"No one knows. He says one day the village was gone, and that mountain was there."

"I see," he said, still waiting for the punchline. "How long ago was this?"

She shrugged. "Middle ages, maybe."

"Your grandfather must have been very old."

"My family's been here for centuries." she said, continuing with her painting. "But do you want to know one other thing about the legend?"

He leaned closer, listening halfheartedly.

"That anyone who litters will be gobbled up by the mountain troll that lives on its peak."

He rolled his eyes, taking a swig from his cup. She chucked to herself.

"Of course it was just some bedtime story made to scare me. But," she paused, staring at the mountain with an odd expression. "There were times when I could swear I heard something from that mountain. Like something sleeping."

Hugo said nothing, and neither did she as she knelt down and took a strawberry from the array of food placed on the picnic blanket he sat on.

"Probably just my imagination." she said.

Slowly, his eyes wandered past her, past her canvas, and somewhere behind her. She tilted her head to the side as she saw his eyes widen.

"Are you alright?"

"Th-The - The mountain.." he pointed a shaky finger over her shoulder. She crossed her arms.

"So you're mocking me now?"

"N-No, the mountain, it -" he didn't finish his thought before he shot up from his seat, a scream gradually growing in volume leaving his mouth as he ran back down the trail they came from. It was so sudden it left her uneasy.

"Aren't you taking this a little too far?" she called after him.

But then she felt the earth shift below her.

Turning around, she saw that the mountain was now standing up on four thick legs. It had a stout face like a bulldog but jutting from its head were a pair of horns like a bull. And as she watched, it put one lumbering limb forward, and then another. The patch of forest that sprouted from its rocky back shivered with each step.

Mila didn't scream, but her heart was beating in her ears just as loudly. The thing was about a kilometer away at least, but she doubted it would notice her even if she tried drawing its attention.

Instead, she took one long chug from the champagne bottle and kept painting until the creature was out of sight.

Tingua Preserve, Brazil - Monarch Outpost 58 - Titanus Behemoth

The woman crawled through the hatch and into an access tunnel. Every alarm in the facility was blaring, and everyone was running for their lives.

Behemoth was awake.

He had been sleeping deep in a cave in the Tingua preserve not far from Rio de Janeiro. After the containment was set up, she had volunteered to stay on the team that oversaw the facility. It was an alright job. Behemoth was, to her, one of the more interesting titans. And when she could find the free time, Rio and its beaches were less than an hour away. Her job payed decently, she'd made some good friends, by all accounts the future looked bright.

But now, everything was changing.

She reached her destination, a panel on the wall of the tunnel. She did her job quickly, then continued down the tunnel, opened another panel, and dropped down into the room beyond. Mounted high in the cave, the room jutted out of the wall. And it was mostly transparent, giving her a good view of the titan below.

His legs were folded under him, his tusks curving above him. As she watched, he struggled against the containment field, trying to stand up. He looked like he was in pain.

"Sabine? Why didn't you just use the door?"

She turned and found of the techs - Erik - staring at her, his eyes full of bewilderment.

"I was checking the wiring in the access tunnel." she said. "The meter downstairs showed some resistance. It looked okay up here, though."

"You could've asked me."

"Yeah," she said, staring down at the titan. "But I wanted the view."

"Are you nuts? He's trying to break out like the others."

"I know." she said, voice void of emotion. "So what are you still up here for?"

"Backup. Dr. Singh has us on standby to use the kill switch."

Behemoth roared, almost as if he could hear and subsequently understand their conversation. The titan pushed up hard, swinging his head through the containment field and shredding the equipment that powered it with his tusks. The field vanished, and the floodlights overhead snapped on. Toward the front of the cave, dozens of security guards took their positions.

"Erik?" the voice came from the intercom. It was Dr. Singh.

"Yeah?"

"We've had negative results here, we're not sure why. Go ahead and enable the kill switch."

"Will do, doctor." he said, punching in a code and flipping up the cover. "Enabled."

After a short bout of silence, the doctor's voice rang out. "Do it."

Erik reached out flipped the switch. Nothing happened. He flipped it back, and then again. And again.

"N-Nothing's happening," he reported, trying not to sound nervous. He checked the diagnostics.

"There's no power!"

"No...there isn't." the Sleeper said.

Erik looked at her, eyes wide, then glanced at the hatch to the access tunnel. His confusion turned to anger. "You were in there, you cut the line to the kill switch - y-you traitor."

"Please, I was never with Monarch."

"Oh my god," he said, voice dropping to a whisper. "You're - You're one of -"

"Look at him!" she nodded toward Behemoth. "You think you have the right to just kill a god? He was here long before you were. You've seen the cave paintings of him in here. They're thousands of years old, and that's just after your people got here. This place's indigenous groups still have a name for him, you know - Mapinguary. You heard Dr. Russell. You have to let him go."

"You're insane - how long have you been working with her?"

"That's not something you need to know. If anything, you should be grateful. This planet's seas are dying, rainforests nearly gone, thousands of species exterminated. I'm only trying to help."

"You've killed us all." Erik said.

"..Maybe."

Below, Behemoth rose to his full height. Or at least his full height on four legs, as there was a running bet on the base about whether he could go bipedal or not. The Sleeper was in the "yes" camp. His tusks and shaggy hair made him look superficially like a mammoth, but he was really built more like a giant ground sloth. His limbs were longer in the front than they were in the back, and he rested on the knuckles of his paws with thick, sharp claws. The only way he could use those claws was to stand up on his stubbier hind limbs.

Behemoth leaned back, and his forelimbs came up from the floor. His tusks scraped across the ceiling, and the entire cave shook. He swatted at the soldiers firing rounds of bullets at his hide with his claws. It almost looked funny from a distance, like he was knocking over toy soldiers. She felt a little twinge of sympathy, but this was how it had to be. If the Controller asked her of this, then it had to be done.

"I was right." she said.

"About what?"

"Bipedal."

With a puzzled, fearful look, he climbed into the crawlspace she came from. It didn't matter. There was no way he could fix it, not in time at least.

Suddenly, a blue-white flame spilled toward him. As Behemoth turned away from the gunfire, the titan screamed. He was facing her now, and she could see his eyes. The eyes of a god. An angry god, whose sanctuary had been invaded, defiled.

The same fire spewed at him again, but this time she saw where it came from: a nozzle protruding from the ceiling. The Sleeper hummed to herself. She hadn't known about that. Behemoth saw it too, roaring as he lunged forward.

"Come on," she whispered. "You know what to do."

The ceiling of the cave was high, but as he stretched to his full height, his face was just a few feet away when his tusks smashed into the ceiling. Huge chunks of stone tore loose, followed by an explosion as the reservoir of napalm spilled to the floor.

"Sleeper to X Base, requesting immediate extraction." she spoke into a device she pulled from her pocket.

Behemoth turned back toward the cave's entrance, covered in flames. But the fire seemed to find no purchase on his fur, and soon enough it burned itself out. He didn't look hurt at all. The cave, however, was filling with fire, and debris from the ceiling were still falling. The observation room shook, wobbled and tore loose from the cave wall.

The Sleeper had one last sight of Behemoth, crashing through the barriers at the cave entrance.

Loch Ness, Scotland - Monarch Outpost 64 - Titanus Leviathan

Dr. Noe paced back and forth within the control room.

The Monarch alerts had just began pouring in, and at this point everyone was on edge. Everyone, it seemed, except for Dr. Reid. She sat comfortably at her desk, lukewarm mug of coffee in hand as she stared at her screen through a pair of a large glasses. He had no idea how she could remain so calm in such a dire situation, knowing that hundreds of fellow operatives were falling at the hands of titans - and possibly even terrorists. He looked over her shoulder at the screen, eyes darting between the fluctuating bioacoustics and the murky water just outside the room.

"Relax, even if the containment field fails we still have the blockade." Dr. Reid reassured him, leaning back in her chair as she took a swig of coffee.

"And where does that leave us? We wouldn't have the time to evacuate if she decides to attack the base once she's figured out she can't escape." he said, nervously running a hand through his short, black hair.

The outpost sat a couple kilometers underwater, situated on the side of a submerged rocky outcropping on one of the lake's cliffsides. Nothing much happened around there, as Leviathan (or "Nessie" as the world had unknowingly dubbed her) was usually dormant, unbothered by the traffic the lake saw each year. Which made Noe's job much easier on his overly cautious nature. His colleague, however, wasn't so concerned.

"She won't, she barely even notices us. Why would she think of attacking this place?"

"I..I guess you got a point."

"Besides, it's her getting out that we should be concerned with, and even then we got a backup plan for the backup plan."

"I dunno," he mused. "The lake's far from shallow, and the level of radiation at its deepest point is a little suspect."

She let out a tired chuckle. "God, have you been talking to Rick again?"

"Wh - No! I'm just saying we can never be too careful."

He was a little hesitant to admit that he did, in fact, somewhat buy into the hollow earth theory. Or at least Dr. Brooks' vision of it. It wouldn't be too out there. He was in charge of looking after the goddamn Loch Ness Monster after all. At this point he was ready to believe just about anything.

"Uh oh." Reid said in a steady tone, hiking her glasses farther up the bridge of her nose.

"'Uh oh' - what do you mean 'uh oh'?"

She gestured to the screen with her mug.

"Looks like 'ol Nessie isn't taking to the field so well."

Looking at the security feeds, Noe could barely make anything out - a long, paddle-shaped tail whipping about, kicking up mounds of lake muck into the water around her as she thrashed within the field, maybe a plesiosaur-like fin or two.

"What's got her all worked up? She was fine just a second ago." he said, getting increasingly nervous.

Reid shushed him, turning up the volume on the bioacoustic feed. The room quieted, only the sound of Leviathan's rapid heartbeat thudding through the walls. And something else.

"What is that?"

"Not sure. But it's not Leviathan."

Her fingers flew across the keyboard, trying to search for the source of the sound as the titan continued to struggle within the field.

"Uhhh, Reid?"

"What." she replied impatiently.

Hearing no answer, her eyes flicked up from the screen. "Spit it out, I don't have -"

Noe was pointing at something beyond the window, eyes wide. Looking up from her post, she saw that the struggling had stopped. As the dirtied water settled, she could see that the containment field was now empty.

"What the h -"

Noe let out a surprised shriek when a massive fin leisurely passed in front of the window. Leviathan made another pass at the base, her long neck bending as she peered inside with an indescribable expression. Slowly, he backed away from the glass. Reid was paralyzed at her desk. The titan let out a throaty grumble before turning away from the base with the flick of her tail. The tail made contact with the room, shaking it so roughly the lights flickered for a moment. But somehow they remained unscathed.

"Reid.." he gulped. "Blockades."

"Got it."

Across the lake, massive steel doors closed, damming off the lake from the sea. Leviathan wasn't going anywhere.

"How is she?"

"Looks like she's on the move, but..she's not trying to leave."

"Th - That's good, right?"

"Hold on, I'm picking something else up. Sending a probe."

Both of their eyes were trained on the drone's feed as it cut through murky clouds the titan had left, the floodlights illuminating the dark water. It was slow-moving, and Noe didn't doubt that they had long lost Leviathan's trail.

"Anything?"

"I'm still getting her radiation signature. Bioacoustics too but she's on edge. Like she's looking for something."

After what felt like forever, the probe came across a sudden dive in the lake floor. The radiation readings spiked. Reid raised her brows.

"Well," she said, taking a sip of her - now cold - coffee. "That's new."

"What is?"

"Was that cavity always like that?"

Soon enough, Noe could see what she was referring to. They had followed Leviathan to the deepest part of the lake, where the radiation was far more prominent anywhere else. But this was different. It was an underwater tunnel, going down - much, much deeper than anything their scanners had picked up. It was almost like something had carved it out themselves. Reid led the probe through the pathway, jolting when its speed increased as something like a vacuum pulled it under.

"Jesus -!"

"Damn, guess I owe Stanton those twenty bucks."

Noe gave her a puzzled look before realizing what she was talking about. The screen in front of them was showing a sudden increase in O2, and CO2 - an air pocket.

"You're kidding."

An incredulous smile grew on Reid's face as the probe's camera was picking up a dim, yellow-orange light. But the closer it got to the source, more static appeared on the feed.

"Shit, radiation's already taking affect."

"Can you get closer?"

"Dunno. I can try." she said with a shrug.

As the probe's camera breached the surface of the water, the floodlights barely illuminated what looked like a large cave. And on its shore was Leviathan, slowly turning to face the small probe that bobbed on the water's surface. Noe felt a chill down his spine.

The titan bared her teeth in a snarl, and in one swift movement Leviathan's tail whipped toward the probe, and with that the feed cut off.

"Aaand she's gone." Reid drawled.

After a long bout of stunned silence, Noe began pacing again. About a million thoughts were running through his mind but only one managed to make it past his mouth.

"What the hell are we gonna tell Castle Bravo?!"

Indian Ocean - Monarch Outpost 25 - Titanus Kraken

In his office beneath the sea, Dr. Ikande lay on his cot and watched the surface of the water ripple above him.

He had tried to take a nap - he hadn't slept in nearly a day - but sleep eluded him. He was too troubled. With the extremist attack in Yunnan to Dr. Russell's betrayal, it was too much to process. He knew her, his grad school dissertation had been based on some of her early work. He even had the privilege to meet her at a conference. It was there she recruited him for Monarch. And the fact that she had snapped like that was almost too hard to believe. Two titans were already on the loose because of her, and the running rumor was that she would try to release more.

He silently thanked himself that this underwater containment facility was probably one of the safest, simply from how far away it was from land. Anything that approached it would be noticed with ease. But that hadn't stopped him from worrying, of course.

He let the nap go, might as well get back to work.

He made his way out of the habitable part of the base - the living quarters, the control room, the labs - which were all relatively close to the surface. He kept walking until he came to an elevator - the one that took you straight down to the observatory, to Kraken.

They had discovered the sleeping titan on a seamount in relatively shallow water, curled around the remains of a nuclear sub that had been missing for decades. Monarch had ended up building the facility around him, but he was in such a deep hibernation he didn't seem to notice it at all. In the time since then they had learned quite a bit about him. Numerous x-rays, DNA analysis, and sonar scans had built a picture of what he must be like. His central brain was huge, far larger than it needed to be to control his body. And he had dozens of smaller brains associated with his limbs. Along with that, he had multiple hearts. There was no doubt in Ikande's mind that the creature held a certain amount of intelligence, possibly enough to rival a cephalopod's. Or a human's.

But unlike his octopoid cousins, his head was protected by a dense, curving shell not unlike a nautilus'. And his camouflage abilities were far superior to any of his smaller relatives. DNA suggested he could also change the color, pattern - even texture - of his skin and shell. When they found him he was nearly invisible, only being able to pinpoint his location by his radiation signature and bioacoustic emissions. But one of his more fascinating features - at least, in his opinion - was his ability to regenerate limbs, or virtually any part of his body.

As the elevator came to a stop, Ikande stepped out. One of the techs, Dr. Harris, looked up from her post and gave him a wave. Otherwise, the lab was empty.

He walked up to the window, and just outside lay one of Kraken's eyes. It was closed, and they had been closed for god know's how long. Dr. Jin, their resident paleobiologist, theorized he was in the middle of a sleep cycle that might last another decade at least. Unless he was threatened, of course.

They had taken great care to make him as comfortable as possible.

"Anything new?" he asked.

Harris shook her head. "Same as always. Bodily functions are normal, but at fairly low levels. How's topside? Any more titans on the run?"

"If there has, we haven't been informed. I almost feel slighted, why wouldn't our friend here be invited to the party?"

"Don't even say that." she replied, frowning. She leaned closer to the screen in front of her.

"What?"

"Nothing, I guess." she shrugged. "There was a little spike, but it went right back down."

Suddenly, the com light blinked on. He answered it.

"Ikande here."

"Doc? It's Teresa. We just got a flood of reports, titans have been released in at least four other outposts. Simultaneously."

"Released? By who, those extremists?"

"It's unclear. Things are kinda chaotic at the moment."

"'Course they are." he muttered, looking back at Harris, whose brows were deeply furrowed in confusion. "What is it, is he waking up?" he demanded.

If he was, at least the containment field still functioned. At least it was supposed to, there was no way to be certain, really. As much as it hurt him, their best bet was to use the kill switch. He was determined it wouldn't come to that.

"No, the opposite." she said. "His hearts are shutting down...he's dying."

"What - why?"

"No idea. It's like he's having an allergic reaction or something. Everything's dropping off, even his radiation signature."

Ikande stared at Kraken's lidded eye, trying to decide how he felt. The titan was put under his charge, and he had failed it. He knew how many Monarch scientists - Serizawa, Emma, Chen - felt about them. And even now he felt a twinge of sympathy for them. But on the other hand, if he died naturally, he wouldn't have to pull the kill switch.

"I..I don't understand." Harris whispered as she continued to watch the titan's vitals plummet.

"Call it in," he said. "Tell Castle Bravo we'll be sending them our data. Maybe whatever happened to -"

His mind stopped, voice catching in his throat. Kraken's eye was open, and it was staring right at him.

"Harris.." he said slowly. "Turn on the containment field."

"D-Done." she said. "But doc, I'm still getting nothing. All our scanners, they say he's dead."

"His eye just opened!"

"Maybe some postmortem reaction -" but then her voice broke off too.

One of Kraken's tentacles was suddenly right at the glass, pushing against the containment field - no, pushing through it. Effortlessly.

"Harris.." he said urgently.

"Th-The field, it only works on living titans," she said, getting up from her station so fast she knocked over the coffee cup that sat on her desk.

Ikande's skin prickled with goosebumps, suddenly feeling very cold as he pieced it all together. Shit.

The tentacle was already reaching for them as he sprung for the kill switch. But with a force greater than he ever could've anticipated, the pane of glass shattered as gallons of water poured into the room. Along with a river of limbs. He tried to swim toward the surface, desperately trying to reach the elevator but Kraken was far faster, grabbing the entire segment of the base and dragging it down to the depths.

Karnak, Egypt - Monarch Outpost 74 - Sekhmet

Chief officer Nadia Zaahir drummed her finger against the desk.

Surrounded by techs that busied themselves with their work, she was restless at the sudden gap in action. It wasn't that she was bored, but looking at the thing in the facility filled her with unease. The big cat in the heart of the temple had been sleeping like a baby for the past couple decades, but it wasn't until earlier that day that they were forced to use the emergency sedatives under Monarch's orders. As the hours passed, and the alerts poured in, it became startlingly clear as to why. At least they had taken affect, the titan's vitals holding steady. But in the blink of an eye something seemed to snap her out of the medicated haze.

With another rumble that shook the temple and its surrounding facility, everyone's panic only increased.

"What's going on? What woke her up" she asked one of the techs - Ibarra, if she remembered correctly.

"Nothing out of the ordinary, everything's working fine." she said. "It's like something told her to wake up."

Zaahir spoke into her earpiece. "Squads, you see anything?"

The aircraft that hovered around the facility reported negative, and the scanners remained empty. The entire desert was quiet.

"It's Sekhmet." Dr. Halla said. "The sedatives, weren't they enough?"

"Containment field?" Zaahir said.

"On it." Ibarra said, switching it on with the flick of her wrist.

In that moment, the giant feline roared - yawned? - as saber-like teeth unsheathed like swords the size of a car. The titan struggled against the field, quickly rousing herself from hundreds of years of sleep. The coarse fur on her back raised itself in alarm, eyes darting around the temple at the scrambling security personnel below.

"What the hell's going on now?" Zaahir shouted.

"She wasn't happy about that," Ibarra said. "And I'm getting something else, something on the bioacoustics monitor."

"Is it her?"

"Yes, and no. Her heartbeat's definitely increasing but I'm getting something else. It's out of our range but just barely detectable."

"Uhh, Zaahir?" Ibarra interrupted.

"What?"

She motioned toward the temple. Behind the glass, Sekhmet looked ready to pounce, repeatedly ramming herself against the field and yowling in frustration.

Zaahir spoke into the intercom. "All security personnel, ready your weapons."

"The field's collapsing," Halla said, nervous.

Outside, the containment field flickered the more she rammed into it. As if figuring out it wouldn't budge, she clawed at it, her massive claws sinking into the earth through the field and uprooting it from the temple.

"Shit, shit - all personnel, evacuate immediately." Zaahir shouted into the intercom.

The moment the words left her mouth, the field was torn apart, a rumble shaking the entire temple. Zaahir didn't have to tell them to get out before they all began scrambling for the exit.

As they ran through the hall of the facility, the ceiling was caving in on itself, pieces of stone falling all around them. Dozens of Monarch operatives were crowding the halls as well, pushing past each other for the exit as the big cat was undoubtedly ready to break out at any moment.

Looking behind her, she lost Ibarra and Halla in the stampede. Above the heads that sped past her, she found a hand flailing in the air. With a grunt, she pushed back, tugging up the tech by her arm before she was trampled.

The lights in the facility had already begun to flicker, the deep rumbling behind them getting louder before exploding altogether, sending debris flying their way. Everyone hit the floor like dominoes, and as Zaahir finally came to, she found many that had been similarly flattened. Chunks of wall and ceiling had crushed a good portion of the people in the hall, but that wasn't what caught her attention.

Eyes wandering to what remained of the containment field, Sekhmet was slowly rising to her feet. Zaahir was only a meter or two away from the exit when Ibarra started screaming next to her.

Immediately, she covered her mouth, shushing her as the cat's eyes zeroed in on them. Ibarra's leg was swallowed by a chunk of stone, and it didn't look like she could walk any time soon. So she stayed still. Not moving, her breath was caught in her throat as the creature's eyes assessed her form through the ruins. Not a creature, she thought. A god.

In her eyes, Zaahir didn't see the malice she had expected to find. Instead, it was something tired, irritated at most. The titan turned away, tail swishing behind her as she lowered her body, coiling to pounce.

Frantic, she pushed the stone from Ibarra's leg, the other biting down so hard on her lip to hold in the pain that a drop of blood dribbled down her chin. It was broken, a splinter of bone jutting out from skin, and she was bleeding pretty badly. Not wasting any time, Zaahir lifted her in both arms, running out of the ruined outpost as fast as her legs could carry her.

Outside, wind and sand whipped around them as one side of the remaining temple suddenly burst into nothing but crumbling stone. As they both scrambled through the burning sand, they could see the cause of the sudden explosion - Sekhmet, her matted fur flapping wildly as she shook herself free of the debris. Zaahir turned and stared.

She definitely resembled something like a smilodon - a slightly hunched back with a scruffy, mane-like crown circling her neck and fading down her back, long claws poking out from heavy-looking paws, a long whip-like tail with a thick wisp of fur at its tip. And of course, her two long canines. But her fur was far from any of her native cousins. Spots and stripes melded together like a natural camouflage, her sand-colored fur blending into the environment around her. Standing at her full height, nearly dwarfing the temple that had been built for her, she looked like a sphinx statue come to life.

The cat looked down at her feet, a confused hum building in her throat. Parts of the facility were still somehow intact, almost like the titan was trying to be careful. Nevertheless, survivors were scrambling from the building, screaming and tripping over one another in sheer panic. Sekhmet watched them like mice, and with a low careless sweep of her tail she knocked over at least a dozen people.

Just then, a squad of Ospreys flew over their heads, ready to unload what they had on the titan. But before they could even focus on her form, Sekhmet's ears flattened, hissing at the flying objects before pouncing on one. The rounds that landed didn't seem to bother her at all, but it definitely pissed her off. With an earth-shaking growl, she swatted an Osprey, easily knocking it out of the air like a fly. The barrage only continued, but it didn't last long as Sekhmet's claws shredded the aircraft with ease, splitting another in half with her teeth. Tired of the unwelcoming welcome party, she bounded away into the desert - straight toward Luxor. The remaining Osprey followed her trail.

Ibarra passed out in her arms before she could flag down an emergency evac.

Jebel Barkal, Sudan - Monarch Outpost 75 - Titanus Mokele-Mbembe

The ground twitched beneath Sergeant Carole Deschene's feet.

She almost didn't notice, but then she saw that nearly everyone in the control room was looking around, puzzled. Then the floor lurched, and everyone began to scream.

"Satellites?" she snapped.

"I've got nothing." one of the techs - Larson - said.

"Squads," Deschene spoke into her headset. "What are you seeing out there?"

None of the helicopters they had sent out had seen anything approach the outpost from the air, nor had they seen anyone on the ground. Nothing on any of their radars, either. The desert was quiet.

"It's M&M," Dr. Keller said. "He's moving."

"Hit the kill switch." Deschene said.

He shook his head. "We still have the containment field."

"Way ahead of you." Larson said, turning on the field.

In that moment, the floor kicked up hard, overturning tables, sending people and equipment into the air.

"What the hell's going on now?" Deschene shouted.

"Radiation levels are rising," Keller said. "And I'm getting something on the bioacoustics monitor."

"Mokele?"

"Yep. His heartbeat's speeding up. But there's something else - something more distant."

"Sir, he's pushing against the field." Larson interrupted.

Deschene switched on the radio. "I want all choppers back here, now. Recon units, you too - be ready to fight."

"He can't get through the field," Keller reassured her. "He can push all day but that thing won't budge. Yunnan was sabotaged, ours is still intact."

"Well, I call bullshit. He's trying to break out - you know what you have to do, and if you don't, I will."

"Sergeant, these creatures -"

Suddenly, the lights dimmed.

"Jesus.." Larson muttered.

"What?" Deschene snapped.

"The containment field, it just overloaded."

"Evacuate the base. Now." Deschene demanded, pushing past Keller and bolting toward the kill switch.

It was only a few feet away before the entire building flipped. Flailing through the air, she hit a wall so hard she swore her lungs would tumble out. She came to with the taste of blood on her tongue, the smell of something burning, and a sound like a rockslide that just wouldn't quit.

Bodies littered what used to be the containment facility, and the whole place was still shuddering. The power was dead, but light poured in through cracks in the metal ceiling.

As she rose to her feet, the room tilted again, slower this time, until it steadied itself. She was only a meter or two away from the exit. But as she made her way towards it, the door burst open with sand and debris pouring inside. The facility was sinking.

"Everybody out!" she called.

Keller was clearly dead, half-swallowed by the sand that had begun to fill the room. Larson was still moving, but dazed. Blood leaked from an ugly gash in her temple. Not wasting any time, she ran to her, throwing her arm around her shoulder as she lifted her out of the room.

Outside, the once level ground was now sloping down into a cavity in the earth. As they both scrambled up the mound of sand that was quickly forming above them, the building dropped another few feet, burying the door. Deschene turned and stared.

It was like watching a plant sprout from dirt, Mokele-Mbembe emerging from beneath one of the pyramids that surrounded the facility. Most of the outpost was still somehow intact. Monarch personnel were scrambling from the building, screaming and running with their arms flailing in fear.

The titan's back emerged first, pebbled like most lizard's hide. But then enormous five-clawed limbs pulled at the edge of the pit he created, and a long curved horn jutted out like a knife from the sand, followed quickly by his head. He looked like somewhat of an earless elephant, except his tusks turned down rather than up. His tail uncoiled like a snake, it was twice as long as his body. Then his trunk flared out, trumpeting an awful noise as if announcing his own arrival.

An Osprey whizzed over their heads, and then another, shooting out rounds of ammunition at the titan. Deschene looked back in time to see one of them hit Mokele on his back, but it didn't seem to bother him at all. Still, he whipped his trunk about, like swatting flies. In seconds he had knocked over dozens of people, taking out at least one Osprey in the process. As he stepped out of the pit, lurching forward on four strong legs, his tail sliced through a pyramid.

This world never belonged to us, she thought. Now they've come to take it back.

Skull Island - Monarch Outpost 33 - Titanus Kong

Alone. Quiet. Peaceful.

Kong sat on the mountain ridge, gazing upon his territory. The water around him glimmered with the rising sunlight, the waves crashing on the shores below. The grasslands and the jungles between the mountains were all hushed in the mellow morning. Creatures chittered to themselves as all began to rise. He scratched the space along his ribs, feeling the first rays of sunlight warm his fur. The last of his most recent wounds were already beginning to heal, and for the first time in a while he felt at ease.

Once the sun had reached its peak, he climbed down from the ridge, walking down his old paths, to the places where the world of night and day crossed into twilight - the hollows where the crawlers lived. He found that they were quiet too, their scents faint and old. He did not feel the rumble of their burrowing, so he went from valley to valley, searching. Maybe they had already made their way above ground to hunt.

He passed by the little ones that spoke to him in voices like wind, but they hadn't seen sign of the crawlers either.

Kong huffed, returning to his ridge and watched the colors of the sky fade from blue to orange to red, eventually fading to a deep purple. The sun burned behind the clouds until it too started to vanish, the moon rising in its wake. But there was something else in the evening breeze, something from a distant place - a place he did not know.

That was when he heard the call.

He had heard calls before. Not from the enemies who had slain his parents - the crawlers. Others somehow more like him in ways he couldn't explain. When he was young, he did not hear them often, but in recent seasons the calls were more frequent. Once he had heard one very near - too near - the island. His island. But it had wanted nothing of him, so he did not care.

But this one wanted something. Wanted him to leave his island. To hunt with it.

And from that call he heard responses. Dozens of them.

For decades upon decades, each season had been the same. The rains came and went, the island's subjects lived and died. And he went on as always. But something had changed now, made him restless, like an itch he couldn't scratch. It made him a little angry. He knew change was good, that was the way of nature. But this change wasn't good, wasn't right.

Let them hunt, he thought. He did not care about their islands, their kingdoms. Best they did not come after his.

But then he felt a familiar rumble in the stone beneath him, and his anger grew stronger. The crawlers had heard the call too, and they were waking.

Alone. Quiet. Peaceful. All of that was over.

With an irritated chuff, Kong began to hunt.

Yunnan Rainforest, China - Cocoon Site - Titanus Mosura

Dr. Houston Brooks woke up to a humid, misty morning in the Yunnan Province's highlands. Taking a science team and a squad of soldiers with him, they drove down to the waterfall.

The storm continued to roll above them, high winds bending the tops of the trees. Rain thundered down in nearly solid sheets, and he nervously gripped the radio in his hand. There had been another titan released - Rodan. And now all hell was breaking loose. They had lost contact with Monarch HQ, and all outside communications were sketchy as hell.

By the time they reached the camp, the road was close to being a river. As he pushed his way into the command tent, Brooks was met with chaos. He pushed through the rabble to Dr. Gillian, who stood hunched over a radio.

"Castle Bravo? This is containment team Mosura, do you read?" she shouted into the radio. She looked worried.

"Anything?" he asked.

"No, sir, we've been completely cut off." she yelled over the cacophony. "We've been trying for hours but we haven't been able to make contact with the Argo, Castle Bravo, and the other containment sites."

"Which ones?"

"All of them." Brooks hadn't known Gill for being easily spooked, but hearing the fear in her voice gave him a chill. "Angkor Wat, Skull Island, Stone Mountain - all the titans, they're escaping."

Gill played back the last transmissions they had received from the other outposts: Behemoth shattering buildings in Rio de Janeiro, Methuselah stomping through Munich, Scylla stalking through Phoenix - among dozens of others.

"Jesus.." he murmured.

Only one monitor was different - Monster Zero, the three-headed dragon, sitting atop a volcano in Isla de Mara. They were roaring. And then something clicked in Brooks' mind.

"It's him," he said. "He's the one doing this. They're all responding to his call."

Out of nowhere, the power within the tent flickered for a moment, then fading out altogether. He turned to Gill.

"Where's Dr. Ling?"

_____

Ling stood before the waterfall, staring through the glistening curtain of water at Mothra's cocooned form within. Feeling her presence.

From the moment she arrived at the site she had not informed her superiors of everything she knew. She felt a little bad about it, but there were simply some things she could not explain with words. If she were being honest, she wasn't sure of all the facts herself. Only what her mother and aunt told her, and her grandmother and her great-aunt. The stories they had passed to her and her sister were not collected from their culture, but instead passed down from an endless line of mothers and daughters.

We're connected to her, she'd been taught. Connected for numberless generations.

She had wondered if it was true. How much of her matriline's mythology was real, and how much was mere fantasy created by time? Her sister had always been one to easily believe such things, but Ling needed more proof than what was essentially a long game of telephone.

But there was no denying that Mothra was real, she could never deny that. She had learned of her existence at a very young age, and not just from stories. Firsthand. It was so long ago, and it was so strange that sometimes she thought she had dreamed it. But the connection was tangible. She'd felt it then, and she felt it now, growing ever stronger.

In the past couple hours, something had changed. In the cocoon, Mothra shivered, as if she felt a jolt of some sort. All scanners within the camp confirmed that her metamorphosis had quickened in response.

In the back of her mind, Ling felt a presence pushing through. She let her in.

In an instant, she was met with a flurry of images - lightning, fire, death, the sea, light. It took all of her concentration not to fall unconscious right there, but her lineage had prepared her for this moment. But unlike the stories she had been told, she was alone. Dr. Ilene Chen was half-way across the world, but Ling couldn't fail the sleeping goddess, not now.

As the typhoon continued to swell overhead, she stood in the rain, ignoring the chill - listening, urging Mothra to hurry toward her second birth.

_____

Gill had known where Ling was, although it wasn't hard to guess. Since arriving at the site she was almost always at Mothra's side. Running out into the rain, Brooks following close behind, they found her kneeling with her backs to them. Rain pelted her from all sides, and her coat was more than soaked. And yet she remained as still as a statue.

"Dr. Ling?" she shouted, trying to cut through the howling wind. "We've lost contact with Monarch!"

She didn't turn around.

For a brief moment, the rain slackened, winds dying down to a harsh whistle. Above, the clouds seemed to part, and somewhere beyond the treeline creatures of all sort began to stir with unrest. Or in worship. A trail of what looked like fireflies began pouring from the jungle and the roof of the grotto that held the waterfall, flickering in tune to a rhythm Gill couldn't hear. And the cocoon flickered too, rippling, glowing with bioluminescence. Tears began to form in the fabric of the chrysalis, the fireflies dancing around it like a thousand tiny supplicants.

But as they passed before Gill's eyes, she could see that they weren't fireflies at all - but rather hundreds of bioluminescent moths. And they were all converging around Mothra's cocoon, almost as if they were assisting her entrance like minuscule handmaidens. A tiny smile grew on her face as they fluttered past her, watching in awe.

"Dr. Ling?" Gill said as she got closer to the woman.

Over the sound of the waterfall and Mothra's increasing thrumming, she heard a voice. It was soft, faint, and it almost sounded like someone singing. It was Ling. As she knelt before the cocoon, hands clasped together, a stream of words in a language she didn't understand streamed from her mouth. Though Gill didn't know the words, it almost sounded like a prayer, a plea.

In that moment, the cocoon split, one long insectile leg stretching out. Ling's singing became louder, more passionate.

Everyone in the camp was outside now, bathed in the light that encompassed the waterfall, watching in wonder at the goddess' rebirth. Despite knowing that she should feel afraid at the thought of another titan breaking free, there was something different about this one. Something more important.

From one second to the next, a head slowly broke through the curtain of water, more legs landing on the ground almost gracefully. Carefully.

Ling rose, lifting the hood of her coat as her gaze followed Mothra's rising form. As she sang, her words seemed to harmonize with the titan's own vocalizations, until they both seemed to be singing the same song. But much bigger and far more meaningful. Gill could only watch in reverence as the titan unfurled her wings, a wave of light surging from Mothra's body to its gossamer tips. Gill could almost feel her throat want to close up at the sight of it, instead taking a deep steady breath.

She was beautiful.

The other titans were free, and Mothra had heard their cries. Now it was her turn.

As Mothra stepped from the waterfall, looking down at the tiny beings all staring back up at her, Gill felt something stir in the back of her mind. Mothra leaned down, antennae twitching as she locked eyes with Ling. The doctor looked a little otherworldly in the blue light, and her expression was nothing short of reverential. Slowly, as if asking for permission, she outstretched her hand, placing it on a patch of the downy fuzz that covered the titan's head. But then Mothra's gaze went past her, towards Gill, and Ling's followed soon after.

Ling brought out another hand, gesturing to Gill. Confused, it took her a moment before she pointed a finger at herself, questioning.

"It's alright," she said. "She remembers you."

Remembers?

Gill nearly gasped. All those times back in the temple - where she would examine the pupating larva with Ling, Chen, and Emma - she would talk to it. She thought that maybe, it would comfort the larva, prepare it for the strange new world she would surely be born into. She never would've thought it'd have any impact. Sheepishly, Gill took Ling's hand, letting her guide it to rest on top of Mothra's head. It was soft, if not a little damp from the waterfall. Gill let out a breathless laugh.

Suddenly, one of Mothra's forelimbs raised itself, stopping just between Ling and Gill. Ling hoisted herself upon it, sitting on the rough chitin.

"Wh-What are you doing?"

"There's no other way to contact Monarch HQ, right?" once again, she extended a hand. "She knows how to help."

"I-I don't - um.." nervously, her head whipped around at Brooks. He looked just as clueless.

"Well?"

She knew there wasn't any time to waste, so with a giddy smile, Gill took her hand. Mothra lifted them closer to her head, allowing them to climb comfortably to the space just between her antennae. Jodie's not gonna believe this, she thought to herself.

With a loud, melodious cry, Mothra pushed herself off the ground and took flight.

#godzilla #godzilla king of the monsters #kotm #godzilla fanfic #leviathanfic