#i started that first one way earlier this month but then the brain stopped cooperating. as it sometimes does

[skyberia]

#persona 5 #persona 5 royal #goro akechi #akira kurusu #ren amamiya #shuake #akeshu #doodles #i started that first one way earlier this month but then the brain stopped cooperating. as it sometimes does #Thus is life. anyhow

[foreverlostindreams]

Don’t ever dump me again

Friends. That's the reason Kol invited you here, because you were ‘friends’. He seemed to be lacking any more of those, or he would not drag you out every time he wanted to go for a drink, just to be distracted by any pretty neck walking past. And while you were glad that you had moved on from being on the menu, to being an, at least right now, treasured witchy help for the Mikaelson, you could definitely go without another evening spent alone in a bar, he chose for the two of you ‘to have fun’. You didn't have fun. Who would getting basically dumped every other night? It was not the best thing for your ego, so you ordered another drink.

It was just your luck, that sitting alone at a bar like this one seemed to attracted all kinds of other lonely or wishful guests of even that bar to try their best of getting closer to you. The stool next to you was still empty, but when the bartender brought you another drink, shortly after your ordered one, you knew that was going to end very quickly. The sound of dragging wood on wood seconds later proved you right and then you saw the guy appearing in the corner of your left eye.

He was not as dubious and off-putting as the other ones you usually attracted in establishments Kol dragged you to, but you also did not get a good vibe from him right away.

A good half an hour and a few drinks later you had warmed up to him though. No supernatural about him at all, right now a fat plus on your chart and just a lot of charming talk about college and annoying friends, just what you needed. You had started college before getting sucked into all the Mikaelson mess and even though you had not liked it there a single bit, compared to some of the things you did now, hell did you miss it. He seemed to have a slight intention of getting you tipsy, based on how fast he ordered you new drinks, when yours got empty, but you knew how to handle your liquor and based on the fact, that Kol in average would take another half an hour before he would get back to get you, you were just fine with how it was.

That was before the next drink hit you very differently. Your head was spinning instantly and you could feel your balance going off. Roofies, oh for fucks sake. You stumbled off your stool trying to get away from him, but your body was not cooperating very much. When he got up as well, playing the perfect help and no word of protest that you were trying to form would leave your lips, you started to feel a slight panic creeping up. There was no witchy power protecting you from this or reversing it, definitely not while you were in this state. God, you were so stupid. The first thing you learn in College, always watch your cup and don’t take drinks from strangers. Having spent so much time with vampires and angry werewolves, you had forgotten about all those mundane dangers. You could kick yourself.

Your thoughts were racing, when you felt the cold night wind on your face. He was getting you further and further away from the back alley or whatever kind of service room Kol, aka your only chance of help and his play thing were in, to everybody else you seemed like a drunk mess, that a friend was helping. “Km” you mumbled only to try directly again, with more force “Kom'' and again “Kol!”

Thank god you were not out with Elijah, you would have never gotten his name out, even though he probably would have not let it have come to this in the first place. But ones you had managed to get the name right once, you didn't stop, repeating it like a prayer. Hoping to get through the bar and street noise like this. Annoying him like he always would with you. When you heard a car door open next to you, full on panicking now, it mobiliced all the brain capacity you could manage “Kol, help!” you nearly screamed, as your legs finally failed in those heels under you and you fell against the car door, jamming the guys hand in the progress. You could hear him swear and then smell a very familiar smell in the next air breeze.

“I said have fun, Darling, not organize presents. But I’m not complaining.” He definitely did not know, when he could be funny and when not, you determined while trying to get safely to the ground to crawl away from the danger zone your ‘nice’ college dude had maneuvered himself into. You didn’t get to crawl through, you were picked up before that. The suit sleeves covering the arms in your vision did not seem like what Kol was dressed in the last time you saw him, but the voice you had heard was his. Trying to focus was getting more and more difficult you noticed and you felt your eyes getting heavier, before you felt something wet getting pressed to your lips. The first impulse was defence, but without much effect and when the copper taste hit your tongue you gave in. Vampire blood was probably your only chance now.

When the clouds started to lift off your mind and your own legs started to support your body again you let go and looked for the guy. You’d be damned if he would get away with this, but Kol had him good and scared to death, his hand still stuck in the car door. Now that couldn’t be good. On a second thought you turned around wide eyed before you realized it was Elijah who had helped you get the drugs out of your system. Where did he come from? They had promised you, they could not read minds. “I was trying to call you, to do a spell for Klaus, but you didn’t answer, so I was going to pick you up.” he offered you an answer, before you could even ask. An oppressed scream reached your ears distracting you again.

“Don’t kill him!” you scolded Kol, trying to get closer only to realise that vampire blood might have helped, but you were not yet your balanced and stable self. “Oh come on Darling! You can not still feel sorry for him. He was not going to take you on a picnic” he shot back dramatically “I know” I hissed at him and instantly regretted it, when his grin got wider again “Oh, so you want the honor?” “No” okay, maybe a bit and you got the chance earlier than expected because the idiot really did try to make his escape in just that moment. The force with which you smashed him into the ground before he did his second step and one of the other two men made a move was entirely because of the drugs, of course.

Pinning him like this you looked back at Kol “I want you to compel him to go to the next police department, demand to speak to a female officer and confess to her about every woman he ever did this to. And about the place where he gets the drugs, if he knows about any other guy doing it. Absolutely everything” “You are no fun” Kol complained “I am in this situation, because you fucking idiot always want to have fun, drag me along and then dump me at the bar. My liver is probably going to get me in an early grave, all because of you” You went off on him and could feel Elijah's disapproving look shooting over your head at his little brother. “Are you saying, you never had fun with me?” He really seemed insulted, what did he expect? “Like I say, you always disappear and the bars you choose are not known for it’s amazing clientele, but it’s the only escape I get from the third brother in your family, that would like to see me work on something for him every waking minute of the day, so i tag along.”

“Ready to go home?” Elijah asked then and offered you his arm, like the perfect gentleman he was “Kol, you got this?” he asked in a totally different kind of voice, while leading me to the passenger seat of his car. How had you not noticed he seemingly hit the brakes and parked directly behind you and the idiots car? “We are not done talking about this Darling!” “Oh, I so am. I will not discuss anything with any of you anymore today. I will not do any spells. I will just go to bed and sleep for a day or two. Maybe wake up in a life, where mine is not so out of control” A girl could dream.

Of course, you were back at breakfast the next morning already reading the grimoire Klaus had gotten in ways you didn’t want to know anything about. He had not complained to you about the time he had lost last night, but you were sure he spent the whole time you were asleep doing it to Elijah, who had put his food down about your need to sleep, also citing that trying a difficult spell with a halfway drugged witch was not their best chance. You were also sure Kol had heard his bit about letting it get to that.

Just when thinking of the devil, he slipped into the stool to your left, looking disapproving on your cornflakes. “That was how my last evening turned from bad to catastrophic” you commented on his move without looking up from the page. “You really did not enjoy a single evening?” Was his pride honestly hurt about that aspect? “Nop” “I thought you were! I thought, that was what you wanted, a way out of this house and not see a single vampire for ones, that's what you had said'' In that moment the penny dropped in your mind. You had said that! A little over a month ago, the day after Kol had arrived back here, when Klaus had had one of his days and Elijah was not on your side the way you had wanted him to, you had stormed off slamming doors and screaming your frustration out with those words. The day after, Kol had asked you to a bar for the first time.

You looked at him, checking for signs that he might prank you, but he looked genuine. You took a deep breath “Okay, let's start again. Hi, my name is Y/N. Your family drives me insane, sometimes I need a timeout from that, but I still do not like to be dumped in shitty bars, when asked out.” Kol took your offered hand “Well then, Miss Y/N. I will remember that. Would you like to accompany me to a better bar tomorrow evening, to redeem myself as good company?” “That sound not bad at all” He grinned back at you and then got up. “By the way darling, I would not eat that, it smells bad.” “Shut up Kol, better be worried, if you ever dump me again!” You could hear his laugh, even when he left the room.

#kol mikaelson #kol mikaelson x reader #kol mikaelson x you #kol mikaelson imagine #elijah mikaelson #klaus mikaelson #witch reader #the vampire diaries #the originals #the originals imagine

[mypimpademia]

Hi how are you😁? Hope you doing alright. So I saw you reblogged that incident with Ochako sacrificing her friend for the D. That she’s not getting btw😅. Can I request instead of Asui, it was actually YOU in her place, and can you write what you would do in that situation plz? Personally, I would’ve embarrassed her in front of Deku😂. If you know what I mean👊🏾😈.

Izuku x reader (im guessing that's what you wanted?)

TW: Swearing, whooping brokechakos ass

Note: im doing good. And you aint lie bc its gon be a min till she bag deku fr. I woulda beat her ass if I were in Asuis place

ochako stans... don't come for me, its a joke

What the hell just happened?

You were currently in survival training, and got grouped up with Izuku and Uraraka. It was all going fine till the floor suddenly fell through.

You were the first to fall, while the other two sat there and watched. Izuku at least blocked some of the pillars from toppling over to the point where you'd be in serious danger, but Uraraka did absolutely nothing.

You weren't exactly friends with her, more like acquaintances. And you didn't mind being grouped up with her as she was actually helpful, and cooperative.

That is... if you weren't with Izuku.

Because in cases like now, Izuku is all she focuses on. And you usually let it slide because it didn't always get in the way, and if it did itd be extremely minor. But today was too much for you, you started off with a horid morning, and now your teammate almost got you killed because she was preoccupied with a guy?

You watch them land safely, and blinded by anger, you began climbing the rubble.

"Wait, where's Y/n?!" Izuku shouted, as you finally reached the top of the rock pile that damn near crushed you.

"URARAKA!" You barked, making her turn around swiftly.

"Y/n! You're okay!" She explained. "Yeah, no thanks to you. You watched me fall." You told her.

"B-but Deku needed me-" She tried saying. But you, being fed up, and angry that she basically left you for dead, landed a hard slap across face, sending her bright pink visor flying.

"W-woah, calm down Y/n." Izuku tried to grab your arm, but you moved out of his range, and grabbed the front of Urarakas costume.

"'Deku this, and Deku that-'" You mocked her. "I almost DIED you airhead!"

"'Deku needed me-'. Izuku seemed perfectly fine handling himself while you stood there and did NOTHING." You landed a punch to her face, making yelp in pain, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes.

At this point, all Izuku could do was sit a watch. Because you did have a point. Uraraka really didn't help him, besides the landing, which he could've done without her help.

"Is that all thats on your brain 24/7?! Its like you go brain dead at the thought of him! And all over a guy that hasn't even gone into the crush stage with you after you've liked him for months-" You were only at the start of telling Uraraka off, before Izuku cut you off.

As much as he knew you needed to tell her off to let the steam loose, you needed to keep going.

He grabbed your waist, pulling you away from Uraraka and into him. "Y/n, I understand that you're mad, but we should really keep going. You can let off some steam later." He told you, giving Uraraka a small glare.

Embarrassed, she looked away and bent down to grab her now cracked visor.

For the rest of training, you and Izuku stayed close, meanwhile Uraraka kept her distance, especially from you.

BONUS

Izuku told you he was going to study with Uraraka, but you decided to stop by a little before.

You casually walked in to the All Might decked out room, as he left it unlocked for you.

"Hey, Y/n." Izuku cheered looking up from his phone. "Hey, Izu, what are you doing?" You asked him, as he got up and pulled you into a hug.

"I was just waiting for you. How are you feeling, you know... after earlier?" He asked, concern painting his features.

"I'm fine, thankfully. I still wanna kick Urarakas ass though." You told him. He stiffled a chuckle.

"Please, don't get suspended." He playfully begged. "Well, how else am I supposed to "let off some steam"?" You asked, repeating his words from Earlier.

Izukus face tinted red, and he looked away from you as he took a step towards you.

"Well... I cant think of too much off the top of my head, but I can think of one thing." He mumbled. You hummed, as if asking him what he meant.

He kissed you softly, pulling you into him.

As you began kissing him back, and melted into him, you heard the door creak open.

"Hey, Izuku-" Urarakas gleeful voice rang through the room, stopping immediately as she saw you and Izuku. Her eyes glazed over, and a moment later, she excused herself.

"I- I'm sorry!" She yelled, quickly shutting the door, her quick footsteps being heard going down the hall.

"Should be..." Izuku mumbled against your cheek, before focusing his attention back onto you.

#bnha izuku #izuku midoriya #izuku x reader #izuku midoria x reader #mha izuku #izuku mydoria #bnha midoriya #mha midoriya #midoriya x reader #midoriya x you #mha deku #deku #dekusquad #deku x reader #bnha #bnha hcs #bnha headcanons #mha #mha hcs #mha headcanons #mha oneshot #bnha oneshots

[hattywatch]

T. Jost - Dog Day Afternoon

A/N: No one asked for this. It’s just a small meet-cute. It’s been a while, be gentle!

“Nooo. No!” A gentle tug on the leash brings the labradoodle back to your side, “We do not poop on lawns in this neighborhood, mister!” You’d be absolutely mortified to be caught bagging up poop off of the pristinely manicured lawns in this community, so you bend down and give Cooper a satisfying scratch behind his ear and let him gently tug you towards the end of the block. 

He’s one of your favorites, so well behaved and affectionate when you visit him. His humans are out of town for the weekend, and you stop by a few times a day to exercise him and give him his meals. If someone had asked you when you were in high school if you saw yourself picking up after people’s dogs to pay your bills you’d be confused to say the least. But, the fact of the matter is you’ve opened your own business with five girls working for you, and you rarely have to deal with humans on the day-to-day, so it’s actually kind of a blessing in disguise.

This particular gated community has been your bread and butter as of late, full of well-to-do families who don’t take vacations, they holiday. It’s a marked difference. They’d pay anything to have their treasured pet pampered in their own home and not stuffed into some grimey kennel with 20 other dogs. The best part is they all talk, so you’ve been able to turn 1 client into 15 in only a month. Cooper was the one that started it all. 

You’re nearing the end of the block, coming up on the grassy park that caps the cul-de-sac when Cooper finds a street sign to relieve himself on. You have one headphone in, so you don’t quite hear the heavy footfalls before you see the men jogging up beside you. 

The blond one is broad and shirtless, he looks like Thor incarnate. His running partner is younger, with curly hair and biceps that strain the sleeves of his t-shirt, which is damp with sweat. Of course, it’s at this time Cooper finds a patch of grass to poop on and you wish you could throw yourself into the picturesque lake to your right as you start unrolling the bags you keep in your pocket. The men smile as they pass though, everyone in this town is polite to a fault. 

______

Three days later you haven’t given them much of a second though. 

Today you have Daisy, whose dainty name would be more fitting on a dog half her size. The dopey husky can hardly control her own body, tail smacking against you as you try to get her harness on before you lead her through the streets which are starting to become familiar. 

Daisy lives 5 doors down from Cooper, and it really is so convenient, allowing you to maximize your profit with minimal travel time. She’s still being leash trained, so you grab a handful of treats and shove them into your pocket and hope that “heel” is something she can be coerced to learn. Today you wind your way past the park, up and down the curving streets, intent on this being a “walk,” not a “pull,” like Daisy seems to prefer. 

You pass your favorite house, stark white with a red door and a blooming rose bush on either corner of a wrap around porch. The porch swing is occupied by a pretty blonde woman holding a small baby. She looks up as Daisy barks and you smile and give an apologetic wave. The woman smiles back and you see the beautiful, blond man from the other day hop out of the truck in the driveway. 

He smiles and waves at you as well before walking up to the porch and kissing his wife and baby, sitting down next to her on the swing. 

It warms you up to your toes to see that this couple isn’t too jaded by the beautiful home they have and the affluent community they live in to enjoy the little things. 

Daisy barks again and you see that she’s making herself at home at the edge of their driveway, and you grimace before grabbing the bags from your back pocket. The couple doesn’t seem to mind and gives you another wave when you pass by, intent on getting Daisy back to her house so you could move onto the next client.

______

On Sunday, your only day off, one of your girls calls in sick, so you throw on some leggings and flip-flops and drive over to walk a fluffy pomeranian named Precious. 

She’s a demon. 

She’s yippy and aggressive from the moment you walk in the door. She can, however, be plied with treats, so you arm yourself with a handful and hope you can tire her out so she’ll be easily swayed back into her crate without too much chaos.

She lives across the street from that white house with the red door you love so much, so at least that’s one plus on Precious’ side. You get to admire the home from close up. Making your way down the walkway trying to control the spawn of dog-satan, you catch a glimpse of a shiny new jeep parked outside. 

The driver looks familiar, he’s handsome… And he’s staring right at you, which is awkward, as you’re pretty much still in pajamas and Precious has not stopped her shrill yapping since she’s been put on her leash. 

“Hey there,” he’s not talking so much to you as he is talking to the ball of fluff dragging you down the walk. 

“Oh, I wouldn’t pet her, she’s a bit cranky this morning,” you tell him while he’s mid-squat. He shoots back up and smiles and you finally recognize him. The curly haired friend who was running with the blond from earlier in the week. He’s more handsome up close and it’s making you a little antsy. 

He laughs and it suits his boyish face, “Fair enough, I’m pretty crabby when I have to wake up early on the weekend too.” You smile and try to pull Precious closer to you, lest she start nipping at his ankles. 

The red front door across the street opens, and that golden couple steps onto the porch. They wave at you and you wave back, smiling tightly, a little uncomfortable trying to pay attention to the beautiful man in front of you and the little fluffy ball of rage between you. 

When he notices you waving, he looks over his shoulder and waves ridiculously back to them as well, a big goofy grin splitting his face, “Is it okay that I park here? I can move if it’s not.” 

“No, no, go ahead. No problem at all,” you smile genuinely this time. He says thank you and holds his hand out, “Tyson, by the way. I’m Gabe’s friend,” he thumbs over his shoulder at who you assume to be Gabe.

Still nodding, you give him your name in return before blurting, “Yeah, I think I’ve seen you around here before,” before you can shut your stupid mouth and he smiles impossibly bigger. 

Gabe, who you have identified as the blond dad from the house across the street helps you save face when he shouts, “Tyson, c’mon we’re going to be late,” as he remote starts his truck from the front door, bouncing his tiny baby on his hip. 

Tyson ducks his head at being called out and smiles one last time before waving and heading to a waiting Gabe, “See you two around.”  

Gabe gives you a big grin as he backs out of his driveway and passes you and Precious, still huffing at your feet at the delay in her walk. You walk her the opposite way they drove off in, not trying to encounter any more broad chests and pretty faces before you’ve had your morning coffee.

______

Friday is a busier day, you have 6 walks back to back in your new area, plenty of families going on a long weekend trip for memorial day weekend. You start your day off with Cooper, followed up by Daisy. They’re getting used to their routes with you and their walks are enjoyable. The next four are with Rocky, Lucy, Maggie, and Duke who are all newer clients. 

You’re up to Lucy when you pass Gabe’s house for the first time. There’s music coming from the yard and a few extra cars line the sidewalk, so you assume he’s hosting a party. If you look for a familiar, shiny jeep who could blame you? 

It isn’t there though. 

You’ve almost forgotten about it by the time you’re walking Duke, a tiny little yorkie who is veritably ancient in dog years. He still has some pep in his step though, and you shuffle through your playlist to find some appropriately happy music for the occasion as you turn a corner. 

With your head down, thumb scrolling skillfully through your favorite Spotify playlist, you jump when you hear the sound of a horn. Duke gives a little bark and you look up to see who the offending party is.

Tyson’s body is half out of his window waving, where his car is parked on the corner across the street.

He hops out and walks over to you, peering at Duke with a little confusion.

“You could probably save yourself some time if you walked all of your dogs together. How many do you have?” He laughs and starts squatting down to Duke’s level while looking up at you for permission to pet. 

“This one’s friendly, you can pet him,” is what you say, because your brain is starting to lose higher functioning the more his shorts creep up his bent legs, revealing the thick, muscular thighs underneath.

Once given permission, Tyson becomes the equivalent of a floppy golden, all sunshine smiles and praise for Duke. “Who’s a good boy?” he coos as he holds Duke’s head in his big hands, simultaneously rubbing under his chin and the top of his head.

He stands up and turns his smile on you, which makes your stomach swoop a little bit, not that you’d admit it. “You should come to Gabe’s house when you’re done walking all of your dogs. He’s having a little party; he said he invited all the neighbors.”

“That sounds nice,” you begin, knowing you shouldn’t and can’t., “but unfortunately I have some more work to do this evening.” 

The smile on Tyson’s face doesn’t falter when he shrugs, “Okay, maybe next time.” He bends down to Duke one last time and uses a higher-pitched sweet voice to say, “See ya, buddy!” before standing up and jogging back over to his idling truck. He hops in and waves before driving back towards Gabe’s house. 

Duke looks up at you, unimpressed, “He’s cute," you sigh. The yorkie just wags his tail and tugs you over to a maple tree to do his business. 

______

It’s a week later when you’re trying to coax Precious down the driveway that you see the pretty blonde walking towards you smiling with a stroller. You know she’s Gabe’s wife, but she’s waving to you in a way that says she wants to talk and you wind the leash around your hand so Precious doesn’t get any ideas. 

“Hi! You’re (y/n) right?” she waits for you to nod and say ‘that’s me’ before continuing, “Oh awesome! I’ve heard so much about you from the neighbors. I’m Mel, I live over there,” she points to the house with the red door that you know to be hers, “We have plans Friday night and we need someone to come and take Zoey out. Would we be able to book you?” 

She looks ecstatic to have run into you so you pull your phone out and check your calendar, “Let’s see, I will actually be in the neighborhood around 7, and I’m free around 7:45, does that work for you?” 

“Ah! That’s perfect. We’re just so excited, because it’s the first time we’ve been out since the baby,” she beams down at the little girl in the stroller, “Mom and dad need a night out, ya know?” She’s smiling so brightly and she’s so sweet, and you don’t know, but you do get it somehow. 

You type her name and address into the calendar on your phone, “I’m sure. You guys totally deserve it, babies are a lot of work!” 

Mel laughs, “I had no idea just how much work! But thank you so much for fitting us in. The sitter will be there with her, so just knock and they’ll let you in and show you around,” her eyes are lit up and you’re actually excited to help her get a free night out with her husband, “I’ll text you and just save my number and we can work out all the details. I just have to get her home to feed before she starts fussing! Thank you again.” 

She’s a whirlwind when she types your number into her phone with fast thumbs, but she has her timing down, because you can hear the baby starting to whine as she crosses the street to her house, right on schedule.

_____

When Friday comes you finish two walks and end up on the porch of the big white house with the rose bushes flanking it. You knock three times and step back to wait for the sitter to let you in. 

Surprisingly enough, Tyson opens the front door. 

He’s smiling, like always, with his right eyebrow raised in confusion, bouncing a giggly baby in his arms. She’s in a pink onesie, covered in what looks like mushy carrots, and Tysons white shirt doesn’t look any better. 

“We weren’t expecting company, were we, princess?” He nuzzles his cheek across the top of the baby’s peach fuzz head and she squishes her eyes shut, babbling happily. 

“I’m not really 'company' perse. I’m just here to walk Zoey,” you rock gently from foot to foot, hoping he’ll let you in and you can get your job done without looking like a total fool. 

"Don't you have enough dogs of your own?" He laughs but steps aside to let you through the front door, the inside of the house is just as nice as the outside. 

"Oh. Those aren't mine," you pull a biscuit out of your pocket and click your tongue, trying to coax Zoey out of her hiding spot under the kitchen table. "I'm just the dog walker." Zoey crawls towards you ok her belly, unsure and skittish. 

"That's a good girl, c'mon mama." Tyson hands you her leash off of the back of a kitchen chair and you can feel his eyes on you as you snap her harness together. 

He nods, bouncing foot to foot, keeping the baby happy, "That makes more sense. I thought you had like, 6 dogs. Gabe told me I was an idiot." You look up and his face flames, luckily the baby chooses that very second to spit up onto the burp cloth slung over his shoulder. 

"Oh no, baby girl," he coos at the infant, rubbing her back soothingly. "I'm going to take care of this, don't leave without saying goodbye," he winks and walks through the kitchen, leaving you in a whirlwind, Zoey whining at your feet. 

"Let's go girl."

_____

If you didn't know better, you think, as Zoey noses along the bushes down the block, distinctly uninterested in doing anything at all, you'd think you were being set up. Except you don't really know better.

You think back to the mischievous glint in Mel's eye was she stopped you for your number and Tyson's surprised face when you showed up, apparently unannounced, at the door. 

The more you think about it the more flustered you get, not dressed to woo a potential suitor, and more likely than not, coming back with a bag full of Zoey's poop isn't really the way you prefer to meet men. 

You dig into your pocket for some chapstick and maybe stop in front of a tinted car window in an attempt to curtail your hair into something halfway cute. It's a lost cause. 

Zoey walks listlessly at your side, she's well behaved, but clearly has no business to do, so you head back to Mel and Gabe's house. She looks excited as you make your way up the porch steps and barks at the front door. 

Tyson steps outside and shushes her softly. "Shh girl, please. I just got the baby to sleep." 

"Do you want me to bring her into the back until she calms down enough to go inside?" You wrap the leash around your hand and pat the top of Zoey's head. 

"Nah," he pulls the baby monitor out of his back pocket,  "I was going to sit on the porch for a little anyway, it's nice out. Want some coffee?" 

You say okay and sit on the porch swing waiting for Tyson, not entirely sure how life has led you to this moment on the pretty wrap-around porch of the house with the red door. 

He comes back out and shuts the door quietly behind him before handing you a cup and sitting next to you on the swing. You're quiet for a pause, but then you giggle into your mug. 

"Did you really think all those dogs were mine?" Tyson looks up at you, smiling goofily back over his own mug. 

"Yeah, I totally did. Told Gabe I was going to see if his pretty neighbor needed help walking all of her dogs. Mel finally figured out it was you and they had a good laugh at my expense." His feet are solid on the porch rocking you back and forth while Zoey dozes in front of you. 

Your ears warm at the compliment. "Thanks." 

"I don't have a dog or anything, but maybe I could get your number in case I wanted company for a walk? What's your schedule look like?" You let your leg slide towards his on the swing so your knees knock. 

Smiling and pulling your phone out of your pocket, you hand it over, "I think I could squeeze you in."

#tyson jost #tyson jost imagine #tyson jost fanfic #hockey imagine #hockey fanfic #nhl imagine #nhl fanfic #writing #avalanche fic #avalanche imagine #i just really think josty is so cute

[lovesgonnabe]

Love Is Worth It - Episode I

 It Was Just A Normal Day

Characters: Chris Evans x Maya Alonso-Evans (Black OFC)

Warnings: Angst, Nothing extreme but could upset some, cursing, slight Implied smut

Word Count: 2k

Summary: What happens when those that don’t agree with you or your love are in positions of power?

Authors Note: This is out a lot earlier than expected so I hope you all enjoy. Also it has been a while since I’ve written so please bear with my rustiness, and there’s slight edits so there may be errors.

Disclaimer: There is slight police abuse of power that may be triggering to some.

Taglist: @thesecretlifeofdaydreamss if you would like to join the taglist message me. 

Please leave a note and tell me what you think!

October 24th, 2019 

The day started out just like any other...

Chris woke up at 5am to go on a run with Dodger.

I got up 30 minutes later headed to our home gym got on the Peloton for a workout then get started on breakfast.

Chris and Dodger get back around 6:30am

At 6:45am Chris carries me to the shower where we have “spontaneous” shower sex till Delilah knocks on our door.

7:30am I get Delilah ready for school then we eat breakfast as a family while Chris and I play footsie under the table and he quizzes her on current events. Did I mention she’s only 5 years old...

At 8:30am Chris and Delilah are out the door headed to school since it’s on the way to the set for Chris’s next project.

At this time I’m just sipping coffee reviewing my appointment schedule at the office and I head out the door at 9am.

It was just a normal day but something felt off.

When I pulled out of the gate of my driveway I see a Boston PD car just sitting on the corner next to our noisiest neighbor Mrs. Goldheim. She’s 70 and acts like she has no business to tend to but mine when what she really should be doing is getting some of her own dick, so she can hop off my dick and mind her damn business.

Anyway I’m getting off topic, as I drive down the road that same police cruiser begins to follow me lights off and at a safe distance for about a mile and then turns left down Sycamore, I was mad confused but I didn’t have time to think about the weird ass Boston cops right now.

I got to the office around 9:45am, had my first client at 10am and from that point It was nonstop between facials to acne treatments to talking women who don’t need plastic surgery off of that ledge I had my hands full for it only being the middle of October. But hey that’s the life I signed up for when becoming a dermatologist.

My last meeting about my new skincare venture ended at 5:30pm and I went to pick up Delilah from after school care. We stopped by the supermarket to get groceries so I could hopefully make my abuelas famous arroz con pollo for dinner tonight.

As a treat we stopped at Cold Stone got two pints of chocolate devotion for our after dinner mini celebration. Since not even a month ago Delilah was moved ahead to the first grade and got an A on her recent math test.

This is where the normal day began to take a nosedive.

Around 8pm we were headed to the house from Cold Stone, my little Dede and I were talking about her day, and Chris called to let us know that filming ended a tad early and he was already home.

We are just around the corner when I see another police cruiser this time they were following a lot closer but yet again they had on no lights.

My hands began to clam up as I kept looking in the mirrors at the two white men in the vehicle following me.

As I pulled into my gate they followed me in. Rushing I parked, grabbed my purse, and got out, unhooked Delilah from the seat and carried her to the door.

“Excuse me Miss” one of the officers spoke stopping me before I could enter my home. I felt like I was frozen In place with a  hand on the doorknob.

“Mommy what’s wrong” Delilah asked looking at me with fright her big brown eyes. I turned around putting my shy ray of sunshine down, with a reassuring  smile, I look at her and tell her that everything was alright as she hid behind my legs while the officers approached us.

It might be because I’m scared but it felt as if they both were towering over me, even though i was the one with the high ground standing on the steps. 

One man looked like he was on a mission while the other looked like he was just there for observation.

The younger one looked at Delilah and said “there is no reason to be afraid sweetheart we are the good guys” the tension was thick as Delilah looked up at me and no one said a word.

The older man of the two cleared his throat and looked at me dead in the eyes as if he was trying to intimidate me.

“Good Evening Miss, are you the nanny? I’m looking for your boss.” I raised an eyebrow ignoring the question and asked “can I please get her in the house?” both officers looked at each other weird since I didn’t answer his original question but both nodded.

I looked at my watch showing it to be 8:40pm usually I would kissing my man trying to figure out the best way to get him out of his clothes. But at the moment I’m standing on my steps scared for our life.

I unlocked the door and told her to go and get her dad who at the time was in the living room playing the grand piano. The beautiful sounds of the piano could be heard when I opened the door and as I closed the door you can hear Dodger bark and scurry toward the door.

The officer began to speak once more “now I’m going to ask you again Miss is your boss home?”

Placing my hand on my hip, I let out an exasperated sighed and said “if I had a boss and they were here I would be very confused”.

The younger officer eyes grew out of surprise and the older officer did not look too happy by my snarky remark.

“Miss please cooperate we don’t want any trouble, but since you can’t answer my questions hand over your license” the older officer said with a smug look and his gloved hand outstretched.

My stomach grew with a bubble of nerves even though it can’t be seen on my face i was scared.

“If I may ask officers what is this about this is my home have I done something wrong?” I huffed retrieving my license and handing it to the older officer, “we will see about that” he says and walks to the cruiser leaving the other officer in silence.

“Look we are just doing the job we were called out to do” the younger officer said to me I looked at him like he had two heads but before I could say another word Chris walked out the door closing it behind him.

He look so damn fine in grey sweats with a matching crew neck sweater, his gold chain I bought him for Father’s Day laying on top and his Red Sox cap pointed to the back.

He came up next to me wrapping his arm around my waist and kissing the top of my head, mumbling. “Baby are you alright?” he asks looking at me rubbing my back as I look at him.

I nod as a sense of calm settles over my body as he familiar sent and touch centers me and makes me feel safe.

“Is there a problem officer? He asked now removing his arm from my body to cross his arms and stand in front of me as if he was my bodyguard.

“Wow you’re Captain America” the officer said in shock as Chris and I rolled our eyes.

“Yea I know but I asked you is there a problem officer” Chris asked slowly getting closer to the younger now shitting his pants scared officer.

I love that he is trying to defend me but we don’t want to make matters worse so I grab his arm to pull him back a bit. Which didn’t work because all he did was softly move my hand a say “let me handle it love”.

I rolled my eyes and watched the shit show unravel. The officer stuttered and Chris cut him off.

“Look I know you are here to do your job but you are on my property and harassing my wife so I would like to know what the problem is what has she done?”

He didn’t look upset and Chris said it respectfully but it was just a feeling that Chris did not want to be fucked with at this moment.

There was another beat of awkward silence the officer was too scared to speak. Chris rubbed his beard and chuckled “can anyone answer my goddamn question as to my wife is in front of our home being harassed” it was like his voice dropped an octave and my panties got wet.

I’m literally trying to tell my brain to stop thinking about using my husband as my personal jungle gym, that this wasn’t the time for that, but I digress so to distract myself for a second I looked at my watch again stating it was only 9:20pm.

Damn I’m not sure if time was moving too slow or too fast but by the time I focused back on Chris and the officers they were being cussed the fuck out.

“What the fuck do you mean you have to take her because she fits the profile of a suspect, do you have a warrant, what the fuck did she even do officer!”

“Mr. Evans we understand that you are upset but we need you to calm down” the younger officer said to a red faced Chris.

“Don’t you tell me to fucking calm down when you are also trying telling me, you want to arrest my wife for some crime she didn’t commit because she’s black” Chris was now fuming.

“Sir this isn’t about race, there has been a string of burglaries in the neighborhood and she fits the description of the suspect we are looking for, we just want to take her in and ask a few questions” the older officer answered.

From where I was standing I could see everything especially how the officer had one hand on his gun holster and the other with cuffs ready to be put around my wrist.

All three men proceed to argue, I had to step in this was getting out of hand and in a minute I would not be the only one in handcuffs.

Walking over to the group who were now in the middle of my driveway with my hands out then they all went quiet.

“Chris honey it’s okay, this is ridiculous I know but let me go with them, you call Austin, tell him what’s happening and then come to the station I will be fine” I said looking at his blue eyes with slight tears as his breathing quickened.

I was hoping to be okay at least for Chris’s sake so he won’t kill the two men in front of me. He read me my rights with Chris now desperately pleading with them to release me.

As the older guard roughly grabs me pulling me towards the cruiser Delilah runs out of the house with Dodger behind her with tears in her eyes.

“Dede get back inside” Chris says as he grabs a barking Dodger who was headed straight for me “daddy why are they taking mommy, what’s wrong she said everything was ok” then she wails out “please don’t take my mommy” over and over while she kicked and screamed when Chris picked her up and ushered the 3 of them back into the house.

A tear slips down my face as my head is lowered into the car and the door to our home closes. One officer looked remorseful and the other looked so satisfied as he looked back at me through the rear view.

He threw on his sirens like he caught some mass murder that he’d been hunting for years.

Then he laughed a menacing laugh taunting me.

“You thought just because you are fucking some white man with money you would get off? Well I’m sorry to break it to you sweetheart but that not how the world works for people like you.” He said to me as I cried harder.

“That’s enough Whitmer I think she get it” the younger officer said.

The rest of the ride the only sound was the radio. I was booked and brought into a cell by myself cold and alone but thanking god that at least I was alive and not hurt.

All I could think about was the smile on my little Delilah’s face and how today was just supposed to be just another Normal day.

I guess those are slim when you’re Black in White America.

#chris evans x black ofc #chris evans x black reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans x poc!reader #chris evans fanfiction #black reader #poc reader

[sleeplessandstubborn]

Emily in Paris or why I stopped caring about the protagonist and I started rooting for the French. Episode 1.

Let’s be clear. I was planning to root for the French anyway. They are in the neighbouring country, I quite like them and I was prepared to confront and make fun about all the stereotypes in this series. Because this was exactly what I expected. Funny, lighthearted and totally braindead (wink wink) escapism in an instagrammed to the top Paris which has the same resemblance with the real one than Vincent Minelli’s... But without Gene Kelly. So what did I think of the first episode?

Meet Emily Cooper from Chicago. She’s young, she is dynamic, she struggles to be liked by everyone and at the beginning of the series. She is a marketing executive about to be promoted or so she thinks.

... Because her boss Madeline (played by Kate Walsh) is going to Paris in order to take work with Savoir, a luxury firm the company (sorry I forgot its name) has just adquired. Madeline is overjoyed because working for a year in Paris is one of her dreams and because French men like mature women, as probed by the fact that their young and hot (sic, but this blog agrees) president married his high school teacher. We’ll never know which plans Madeline had for Frenchmen, whether they are young or hot or not. The case is after two minutes in the series she vomits, which means she’s pregnant and she can’t go anywhere because it’s an truth universally aknowledged that pregnant women can’t go on with their plans.

It’s in the next scene when we meet Emily’s boyfriend, Doug, and when we learn she’s going to Paris in Madeline’s place, in spite of being unprepared and not knowing the language. At this point one wonders how it’s possible that no one else in the company can replace Madeline. All of them are monolingual? Our plucky heroine is not discouraged by the litle fact of knowing virtually nothing about the country in which she’s going to live during the next twelve months. She and Doug - the moment you see the scene you know it wont’ go well - agree on a long distance relationship.

And after a very well done transition, we have crossed the ocean. Yes, this is well done, and I say it unironically. Episodes are short, your show is called Emily in Paris, so, what’s better than having your main lady already in the French capital in less than five minutes. The series goes to the point in this aspect and it’s a good thing to spare us of unnecesary scenes.

So Emily arrives to her apartment with pretty views, confused about in which floor she’s supposed to live (running gag ahead) and already hit on by a French guy on a suit that looks like the love child of Gabriel Attal and Albert Rivera (check it, seriously). I couldn’t take him seriously not only because of that but also because he said that Emily’s appartment was a chambre de bonne. Not by any means. Look, I’ve never lived in Paris but I know that apartment is huge when compared with a real chambre de bonne.

Off to know her working place, Emily has this HUGE smile pasted on her face. I don’t know if this supposed to make her charming and likeable. For me - it’s true than I have this European perspective - she looks a mix between an anxious puppy and a psychopath. I would be scared and would avoid her at all costs. The cultural clash is about to happen.

Yeah, I would look at her too, Julien a.k.a. token black character. You have probably heard about the lack of diversity in this series, I won’t abound in that, others have worded it better. It also an established fact that French people smokes at their workplace, even if in the European Union we have these things called smoking bans that won’t allow it.

And enter Sylvie, Emily’s Parisian boss and supposed main antagonist, à la Devil wears Prada. What to say about Sylvie other than I adore her? Her clothes, her style, her sarcasm. As any rational being would do, Sylvie is pretty dismayed to learn that Emily does not have the slightest idea of French and its already wanting to impose her American perspective and her alleged knowledge of social media. The problem is I don’t know if her posts on Instagram really deserve that much attention. Clash ensues with the rest of her new coworkers. C’est la cata! they comment. I quite agree.

Our fish-out-of-water takes an evening afterwork stroll (this Paris is like one square kilometer and public transport is something you mention but never appears) and calls her boyfriend to state the entire city looks like Ratatouille, which legitimately made me laugh. I am not sure if this reference means that Emily’s filmic culture is that limited or if it’s her boyfriend the one who only knows a movie which takes place in Paris and that’s one is Ratatouille. We know that Emily at least has seen Moulin Rouge and that makes two so probably is Doug’s fault.

Back at home, and since she has forgotten how to count, Emily attempts to open the wrong door. Immediately a wild Frenchman appears; it’s Gabriel, played by Lucas Bravo probably one of these young hot men Madeline would target. He takes the intrusion reasonably well. Especially when it’s discovered that Emily only knows his region, Normandy, from Saving Private Ryan. That makes three films, so definitely I think Doug is the problem here as far as filmic culture goes.

Next day Emily picks a yellow outfit and goes to work, purchasing a pain au chocolat in her way to work. I confess I was underwhelmed when discovered that there wouldn’t be any joke about the Great Civil War that has been going on in France since its earliest days: the partidaries of pain au chocolat vs. the ones of chocolatine. A ferocious, merciless conflict unknown by most nations. A lost opportunity not making this woman someone from the South who bravely defies Parisian conventions calling it chocolatine. I’m team pain au chocolat btw. Naturally when she discovers the wonderful world of flavours she makes another Instagram post. She’s earning more and more followers, Heavens know why.

However, she has a Big Problem with Doing Research. Example given, she doesn’t know her schedule - a problem which could have been solved with reading numbers - and arrives two hours early to her workplace.

Once there she discovers she can’t sit with the cool kids. No one wants to lunch with her, so she decides to miserably sit by herself at the park, where we met her best new friend. Her name’s Mindy, she’s from Shangai and she’s working as au pair, while teaching Mandarin to the two blond children she’s looking after. We’ll later discover more about her. She instantly detects the American in Emily and offers her help to this awkward but at the same time arrogant newcomer.

Meanwhile at Savoir, Emily has earned a sobriquet. La Plouc, which is adopted by Sylvie and most of her coworkers even if Luc seems more or less reluctant to say it. La Plouc means the hick, as she instantly discovers thanks to an online translator. It’s really not a good day for our heroine, and she cames back home - remember that thing about this Paris being one square kilometer? - walking. Co-worker and someone who  for some resason reminds me to the posh-y version of Philippe Poutou - check it - Luc passes by as she sits lonely by herself and apologizes for calling her la Plouc earlier. He also claims she’s arrogant for coming to Paris without speaking or even understanding French - which is true - and tells her people is probably scared as her new, modern ideas. Which makes no sense at all and it’s probably a white lie.

Meanwhile and for some reason her totally inocuous posts in Instagram makes her earn more and more followers. During the night, her oblivious to timezones boyfriend call her and they have - or attempt to have - a totally awkward and unsexy session of cybersex. At the end Emily is so frustrated that she tries to use her electric vibrator which leads to the short-circuit of the entire building. Fortunately before she has the oportunity of getting closer to the device in question. And that’s how Episode 1 ends.

What did I think? It’s fun and pretty to look at. Even prettier to rant about. As long as your brain remains carefully shut off in the meantime and you don’t take it that seriously you are going to enjoy it I guess. At least it’s my case.

Still frustrated for not covering the Great Civil War tho.

#emily in paris

[rosemaidenvixen]

A Secret’s Worth

Chapter 14: Barbara

Ao3

The brochure had been feather light when Barbara had picked it up at the travel agency earlier today, but now it felt like there was a brick in her purse.

It took a great deal of effort to keep her eyes on the road and not on the handbag sitting in the passenger seat. 

Ever since Barbara had seen that magazine article all those months ago, in the back of her mind she always knew how ridiculous it sounded. Her son's nightly transformation being linked to seventeenth century witch trials that had happened on the other side of the country; no matter which way you cut it, it was a stretch. Nix that, even a stretch started from somewhere rational, this was a half-baked, half-assed, barely-plausible, hypothesis. 

But she couldn’t let it go without making sure. The odds of finding anything might be slim to none, but Barbara couldn’t risk letting a cure slip through her fingers. 

And she’d already done all the research she could from California, the only thing left was to go to Massachusetts and look for answers there. 

It wouldn’t be an easy trip, by any stretch of the word. Taking a plane was theoretically possible but in practicality way too risky, and it was much too far for her to drive them. Their journey was going to involve switching between buses and trains and stopping at different motels each night. But maybe, just maybe, three thousand miles away, they would find the answers they were looking for. 

A lead weight sank into the pit of her abdomen as the house came into view.

Logistics aside, what worried Barbara the most was that in all the research she’d done the past few months, there was nothing suggesting that there was actual magic involved in the Salem witch trials. Nada. Zip. Zilch. And mounds and mounds of evidence to suggest colonial mass hysteria and a gigantic coincidence based on a common name. Knowing that, the thought of dragging them both to the other side of the country, only to find nothing.... 

That scared her.

But not because she was afraid of failing, Barbara had plenty of opportunities to get used to that over the past ten years, but because this was it. Their last clue, the final stone to unturn, the end of the line. If they didn’t find anything on this trip…

Her throat tightened as the house came into view.

Then it was over, for good.

Turning to pull into the driveway, she was surprised by the presence of an unfamiliar Niesan parked on the sidewalk. Usually they didn’t get many strangers in their little cul de sac, maybe it was a salesman, or Jehova’s Witnesses. Either way she had bigger things to worry about. Putting it out of her mind, Barbara pulled into the driveway and killed the ignition; five breaths in, hold for five, out for five more. 

The conversation she was about to have with Jim was going to be rough. No matter how tactful she was there was no way he was going to react well to hearing about the Salem Witch hypothesis she’d been sitting on for months, much less how she was planning on taking them to the east coast for a good chunk of the summer.

But as much as she was tempted to, Barbara couldn’t put off telling him forever.

Best to not drag her feet any longer and rip the bandaid right off.

Steeling herself with a final deep breath, Barbara grabbed her purse, stepped out of the car, and marched up to the front door.

“Jim?” she peeked inside “Are you--”

The rest of the sentence died in her throat.

There was a man, not a particularly threatening looking one but still a stranger to her, sitting on their staircase, going through their clean laundry basket like he owned it.

She froze midstep; the picture in front of her too baffling to form a coherent reaction to. 

The man glanced up at her from the basket “Oh Dr. Lake, glad to see you here,”

“I-- you-- who-- who are you? What are you doing in my house?”

The man didn’t answer, instead a new voice cut in “Hello Dr. Lake, how about you join us in the living room?”

Still bewildered beyond all belief, Barbara found herself moving towards the living room. Stepping around the corner, the first thing she noticed was a woman, just as unthreatening and unfamiliar as the man on the stairs, sitting on their couch and smiling at her. It was the second thing she noticed that caused her confusion to shift into concern. 

Jim, sitting bolt upright on the other side of the couch facing the woman, plastic smile carved into his face “Hi mom, welcome home,”

Barbara just stood there frozen in the door frame. What was happening, these people didn’t look or act like burglars or home invaders….but who were they? What were they doing here? And why was Jim so on edge and desperate not to show it? 

“What is….going on?”

“Oh I’m sorry, let me introduce myself,” the woman stood and held up an ID badge “My name is Dorothy Butler, you can call me Dorrie, I’m an investigator with CPS,”

For a second it felt like time had stopped.

Then Dorrie, 

The child protective services investigator

Held out her hand, and everything became painfully real.

Forcibly snapping herself out of it, Barbara reached out and shook the offered hand, willing herself not to tremble, and returned Dorrie’s smile with one of her own. Panicked scream ringing silently in her skull.

Dorothy Butler.

CPS investigator.

A fist to the gut would have been less shocking and painful.

Who had called, what had they seen? Had it been their routine made someone suspicious, or had they seen something more--

Barbara clamped down on that thought hard, walking over and taking a seat at the couch next to Jim, using years of practice as an ER doctor to compartmentalize and stay composed. 

For whatever reason these people were here, right now it was vital for Barbara to maintain a level head. Keep calm, tread carefully, figure out what exactly had brought these people to their home, and what it would take for them to leave.

Besides, if someone had seen something...telling, it wouldn’t be CPS that came knocking on the door.

“Sorry I guess I’m just...a little confused, why are you here, who called you?”

Dorrie’s porcelain smile didn’t so much as twitch “Someone came to us concerned that about the disciplinary methods going on in your household, but I’m afraid I can’t tell you who, that information is confidential,”

Not the answer she’d been hoping for, but not an unexpected one. Even with the waves of dread it sent through her.

Barbara leaned over to get a better look at the man still sitting on the stairs “So who is…”

“That’s Detective Charles Lunau, he’s my police escort,”

“I’m sorry your what now?”

“It’s nothing to be concerned about,” Dorrie’s expression instantly switched from chipper to contrite “It’s just standard department procedure,”

Barbara had more questions but bit her tongue, it would not be in her, or Jim’s, best interests to come off as defensive right now.

But her brain was starting to catch up to her surroundings. And anger was starting to rise past the shock.

“I know you’re with child protective services, but you can’t come in to my house, talk to my son, without--”

Dorrie whipped a folded piece of paper out of her bag and held it towards Barbara “Here’s your copy of the search warrant, please feel free to look it over and keep it for your records,”

The bottom dropped out of her stomach for the second time today. From beside her she could see Jim flinch.

Barbara numbly reached out and took the paper, a quick glance revealing the seals and signatures that meant it was official. Turning the anger in her veins to ice.

An investigation was one thing, anyone could shoot their mouth off and get CPS to come sniffing around. But a warrant meant that not only had someone reported them, but they had given something concrete enough for someone else to take it to a judge and get him to put down his signature.

More than that, a warrant meant that Dorrie and Charles could look where they wanted, talk to who they wanted, and stay as long as they darn well pleased.

Which meant that now Barbara really had to play nice.

“Well then…” she took a deep, grounding breath “How can I help you?”

Dorrie beamed, clearly pleased at the cooperation “Right now we’re just trying to get a feel for how things are in your household, Jim and I were already talking about some things, now I’d like the three of us to talk together, does that sound good?”

“Yes...that would be fine,”

“Great, then let’s get started,” she pulled over a notebook that had been sitting on the coffee table “Besides Jim and yourself, who comes and goes from your home on a regular basis?”

“No one I think, it’s mostly just us-- Oh! Except for Jim’s friends, they come around fairly regularly,”

He nodded along with her words “Yeah, and they’re all pretty well behaved, straight A’s and all that stuff,”  

Dorrie quickly scrawled something in her notebook “What are your friends’ full names?”

Jim frowned but answered all the same “Toby Domzalski, Claire Nuñez, Darci Scott, Mary Wang,”

A few more notes and Dorrie paused her pen and looked up “And how are your grades Jim, any areas where you’re struggling in school?”

“No not really, all A’s and B’s and stuff,”

“I can send you a copy of Jim’s most recent report card if that would help,” Barbara added.

Dorrie beamed “That would be great, now can you tell me what kind of family activities you two do together?”

Barbara and Jim turned towards each other simultaneously.

“We...go camping pretty often,” Barbara said haltingly.

“Yeah, kind of our thing, love the great outdoors,” Jim let out an awkward chuckle.

“Good good,” Dorrie turned towards Barbara, smile shifting into something more somber “Now how do punishments and discipline work in your house?”

Her heart skipped a beat “There aren’t really any huge issues, Jim’s never had behavioral problems severe enough for me to be deeply concerned about discipline,” she risked a peek at Jim from the corner of her eye, for the most part he appeared calm, but his face had gone deathly pale.

“On the rare occasions I do find a punishment necessary, it’s usually grounding from video games or electronics, how long depends on the severity of the situation,”

Dorrie’s smile slid back into place as she jotted down another note “I know a lot of households operate at different hours, so do you have any kind of set curfew in place?”

“Yes…” Barbara continued “Four pm during the winter and six pm after daylight savings,”

“Why did you pick those hours?”

Barbara paused, and very deliberately did not look towards Jim “I think it's safer that he’s home before dark,”

In her peripheral vision she could see Jim stiffen.

Her chest tightened. She just got a sinking feeling she’d just said something she shouldn’t.

Dorrie’s only response was to keep smiling and jot down another note “So between school and work how do you--”

“Actually I have a question,”

Barbara over to see Detective Lunau coming into the room holding the laundry basket “Are you dating anyone Dr. Lake?”

She was momentarily taken aback “I’m sorry, what?”

“As of this moment are you currently dating or in a romantic relationship?”

“No. No I’m not. I haven’t dated anyone for years,”

He set down the basket and pulled out something on top. Her breath hitched when she saw it was one of Jim’s pajama shirts.

“Do you mind telling me who this belongs to?”

“That’s mine,” Jim piped up, startling her.

Lunau looked at the shirt, then back at Jim, frowning “Seems pretty big for you,”

Jim’s smile slipped just a fraction “I like baggy clothes...”

Going by the look on Lunau’s face he found this hard to believe. Jim trailed off, tension in the room rising.

“Ok,” Dorrie abruptly broke the silence, shutting her notebook and getting to her feet “How about we all take a break and go look around the house?”

This new development had problems of its own, but Barbara was mainly relieved that the subjects of clothes and her social life were being dropped “That’s fine,”

Dorrie grinned at her “Great,”

The rest of them stood and followed her towards the stairs. Lunau held back to let them pass, and then followed them up.

Meanwhile Barbara was still trying to reassemble her mind. Trying to gather her thoughts felt like herding bees, but she needed to get it together and figure out what they had laying around the house that needed to be tucked out of sight, or at the least they should come up with a very good explanation for.

She only remembered right as they all stepped up to Jim’s bedroom door.

They all reacted the instant Dorrie pulled it open; Dorrie herself flinched and took half a step back, both her and Charles cringing, Jim had gone even paler and Barbara had to fight to keep a wince off her face.

Frowning for the first time since Barbara had seen, Dorrie turned back and addressed her “Can you tell me about this smell?”

Barbara just stood there, hoping she didn’t look as much like a deer in headlights as she felt.

The smell wasn’t anything overly rotten, halfway between vegetation and musk, but it was distinctly animal. And it got even more noticeable after Jim started puberty. At first Barbara had been vigilant about scrubbing it out of his clothes and sheets as soon as it started to linger. Until Jim had admitted he couldn’t stand the way soap and air freshener smelled when he was blue. Since then they'd decided to more or less let the scent go in his room while making sure to keep it out of the rest of the house.

None of which she could say to the woman in front of her.

Not to mention that she’d just now recalled the other thing that was unusual about Jim’s room.

“I...it’s--”

“It’s my fault,” Jim said abruptly, causing every head in the room to swivel towards him.

He flushed under the scrutiny “I’m...bad about washing my sheets and stuff,” 

Dorrie, still frowning, jotted something down in her notebook before looking back up “Is it ok if we go inside Jim?”

His face was tight “Sure….”

Jim stepped ahead of them and pushed open the door, allowing them to file in before he followed suit.

Barbara’s insides knotted as he shut the door behind him. 

Dorrie stumbled a little bit, the space was cramped with four of them in it, before glancing between Barbara and Jim, looking equal parts confused and concerned “Is there any particular reason your bed is so messy?”

This time Barbara knew the flinch showed on her face. Calling it messy was being generous.

During the little time that Jim slept at night he tossed and turned aggressively, inevitably making tangled nests out of sheets rather than sleeping under them. It had taken years of work and a special hypoallergenic fitted sheet to keep Jim from tearing the mattress apart. But they still couldn’t keep him from tangling up the sheets.

Jim forced out an uncomfortable laugh “Guess I’m just bad about making it…” 

Dorrie briefly held his gaze before looking towards Barbara.

Barbara knew that she was waiting for her to say something regarding Jim’s bedding situation, to step in as his parent and caretaker and provide a good explanation.

But she couldn’t speak past the lump of static in her throat, teeth digging into her lip.

After a few moments of loaded silence Dorrie quietly raised her ever present book and took down another note.

“How about we look at the bathroom?”

The bathroom was, mercifully, normal. But Barbara had to force herself not to glance out the window at the steadily setting sun while Dorrie rifled through their medicine cabinet.

They were running against the clock here, sunset was in less than an hour and she didn’t know how long Dorrie and Chalres were planning on staying. And the warrant meant that they weren’t leaving until they were good and ready.

And the way he kept tugging at his sleeve and glancing at his watch told her the time hadn't escaped Jim’s notice either.

After finding nothing amiss in the bathroom or her bedroom, they soon found themselves back downstairs; Dorrie casually peeking inside their fridge and cabinets “How do you handle meal times with Jim’s school and your irregular hours,”

Finally an easy question “I try to keep a good supply of snacks and ready-to-eat meals on hand, we go shopping together once a week to get everything we need,” Barbara said, Jim nodding along in agreement with her “Jim enjoys cooking and does a lot of our meals together, We try to to eat together as often as possible, but there will be some nights I leave Jim to find his own dinner,”

“What about chores and housework?”

This question was a bit trickier, Barbara hadn’t even thought of the best way to answer before Jim piped up.

“I--”

“Jim,” Dorrie interrupted, not unkindly “I know you’re trying to be helpful, but I really need to hear this from your mom,”

He clapped his mouth shut, face red, all eyes in the room slowly turning towards Barbara. 

“We...try to split things up pretty equally. I do clean and cook on my days off, and Jim has a chore list and contributes to meals when he’s up for it,”

Barbara glanced around the room, Dorrie’s face was still a neutral mask, but Lunau was frowning darkly and Jim was positively ashen.

A cold lump dropped in her ribcage. She knew she had just said the wrong thing.

How many times did that make now?

This was too much, she couldn’t keep doing this, guessing and trying to give the right answer. She was already on edge, and didn’t know how many more straws she could take before she snapped.

“I’m tired,” Jim spoke up suddenly “Can I be done?”

Barbara stared at him in surprise, before shooting a discreet glance out the window. They had a little time left, but she wasn’t sure how Dorrie would react to such a blunt demand.

Looking over at Dorrie, also appearing surprised by the sudden request, she appeared to consider it for a moment before smiling at him “Oh of course, but before you go just one more thing,” she flipped through her notebook “You’ve sustained injuries from an animal attack on your ankle, correct?”

This time when she bit her lip Barbara tasted blood, how on earth did they know about that!?

Jim raised an eyebrow, looking more confused than anything else “....yeah?”

“Do you mind showing us?”

He froze “What now?”

“If you don’t want to that’s perfectly alright, you don’t have to,”

Anger rippled up, eclipsing every ounce of anxiety. Damn right he didn’t have to, warrant or no warrant, this woman had just crossed a line. Barbara was half a second away from telling Dorrie just how outrageous her request was and that there was no way she was examining her son, when Jim cut in.

“No! No--” Jim stopped himself and took in a deep breath “It’s fine,”

Before she could stop him Jim propped up his foot on a stool and rolled up a pant leg, exposing faint pink lines an inch above the ankle joint “There, see? No big deal,”

Dorrie stepped closer, leaning in to glance at the scars. Lunau hung back, but kept his eyes locked on Jim and Dorrie. She spent the longest ten seconds of Barbara’s life staring at her son’s ankle before looking up “Thank you Jim, that will be all,”

He gave a curt nod, before jerking his pant leg back over his ankle and putting his foot down “I’ll be in my room,”

With that he turned and headed upstairs. Barbara hoped that his rush to escape the room was only obvious to her.

Dorrie and Lunau watched him retreat up the stairs, once he was gone their focus shifted onto towards Barbara. 

“Now Dr. Lake we’re just about done here there’s a few more things I want to ask you,”

Barbara nodded along, even as her heart soared at the words ‘just about done’ “Alright then, do you mind if we sit at the table?”

“Not at all,”

Forcing herself to maintain a neutral expression, she was in the homestretch just had to make it to the end, Barbara stepped over and took a seat at the table; Dorrie and Lunau right behind her.

She was going to make it, just a few more questions and these people would be out of her house.

She was going to be ok. Jim was going to be ok.

Settling into the wooden chair, Lunau standing behind her, Dorrie held up her notebook and pen “Can you describe your and Jim’s relationship with your extended family?”

The second those words fell from her lips whatever relief Barbara had started feeling vanished. Her stomach curdled, acid rising in the back of her throat.

Not a completely unexpected question, they wanted to get some background on the situation and see if there was a history of abuse. But that still didn’t mean it was going to be easy for her to answer.

“Of-- of course,” Barbara took in several gusty breaths to steady herself, and then spoke.

“I’m not in contact with any of my living relatives and I haven’t been for sixteen years, Jim has never met or spoken with any of them,”

That statement caused both Dorrie and Lunau to perk up instantly.

“Why is that?” Dorrie asked, pen poised and ready.

Somehow Barbara’s throat got even tighter “My maternal grandmother, my last grandparent, passed away when Jim was two, my only aunt and uncle are my mother’s sister and her husband, they were never interested in a relationship with me so I never pursued one. I have no siblings,”

“And your parents?”

Her face burned, chest tight, all the emotion from this afternoon threatening to bubble out and explode, along with decades old wounds ready to tear open and bleed fresh. 

“I made the choice to cut them out of my life when I was twenty three,” Barbara said at last, unable to maintain eye contact as she did.

When Dorrie spoke up again her voice was softer than she expected “And why did you decide to do that?”

It was a long time before Barbara answered, summoning the words back from a part of her life she had long tried to move past.

“Both of my parents were emotionally abusive to me for my entire childhood,”

“Do you mind giving me a specific example?”

Actually she’d prefer to get an appendectomy without anesthesia “They….they were constantly critical of me,” not good enough, some people wouldn’t even call that abusive “They used guilt to manipulate me all the time, growing up I was always trying to appease them and keep them happy,”

Her voice nearly cracked towards the end. It was true, all of it, but there was more, so much more. How much were these people going to drag out of her before they were satisfied?

In a move that surprised her, Dorrie extended a hand across the table, not touching, but close “I’d like to know the steps you took to go no contact with them, but please take all the time you need Dr. Lake,” 

Barbara nodded her acknowledgement while gripping the armrests of her chair, knuckles white  She was standing on the edge of a cliff, pushed there inch by inch by everything that had happened to her since she walked in the door. She needed to calm down, get it together, shut this chapter of her life back up and plow forward. 

“When I realized that they were never going to change I decided that I didn’t want them in my life anymore, I left home at seventeen to live with my grandmother, but for a while we still spoke on the phone and saw each other at family gatherings. But when Jim was born I knew I never wanted him exposed to any of that toxicity and cut them off completely. To this day my parents don’t have our contact information or even know what city we live in,”

She risked a glance across the table.

Lunau, whether because he was unbothered or had an excellent poker face, hadn’t responded at all to Barbara’s story, for her part Dorrie’s expression was somber, but also sympathetic “I can see why you would make that decision, what about his father’s family?”

Now that question was a lot easier, even if knowing what question was sure to come after it made the burning in her gut return with a vengeance “We’re not in contact with them either, James’ grandparents were never involved in his life, neither were his aunts and uncles. His parents live in South Carolina, we never visited but we did speak over the phone back when we-- James and I, were together, but once we….separated that contact ceased, James has a half brother, but he lives in Georgia and I’ve never had contact with him,”

“And James, your ex-husband,” Dorrie said gently “How did your relationship with him end?”

Even though she’d seen that question coming from a mile away, hearing it out loud, Barbara knew she must look physically ill.

With her parents she hadn’t asked to be born or chosen to grow up with them, but James….

James was a mess she’d gotten into all on her own.

All of a sudden Barbara couldn’t do this anymore, she was fighting with everything she had to stay composed, but all she wanted to do was scream, tear off her skin and let the raging storm inside her explode “I...I...I’m sorry can we just take a break for a minute?”

Lunau frowned “Actually--”

“Actually,” Dorrie cut in “I think we’re at a good spot to stop for today,”

Shock and relief rushed through her like twin lightning bolts, hot and cold all at once “Really?”

“Yes,” Dorrie said, getting to her feet “It sounds like that’s a complicated subject, and it’s getting late, so how about we meet up another day so you can tell me everything in more detail?”

So it didn’t look like she was completely out of the woods, but still Barbara would take what she could get “Of course, that would be just fine,”

“Excellent,” Dorrie tore a page out of her notebook and slid it and her pen towards Barbara “If you can just give me your contact info I’ll send you some dates and times and you can let me know what works best for you,”

Beyond grateful that today’s visit was almost at an end, Barbra hastily scratched down her phone number and email address before sliding it back to Dorrie, who gently folded it and tucked it into her pocket.

“Just one last question before we go, is there anything in particular that you find yourself struggling with as a single parent?”

By this point Barbara was so burnt out that she was barely able to put together a cohesive answer “I...I’m sure there is, but nothing comes to mind right now,” 

Dorrie beamed at her, and as much as she was grateful for her patience this woman’s overly cheery attitude was uncanny “Struggling is nothing to be ashamed of, taking care of a family is hard work,”

She held out a pamphlet towards Barbara “Here are some general resources if you ever feel like things are getting to be too much,”

Barbara barely had time to take the pamphlet before Dorrie was flashing a business card in her direction to “And here’s my card with my contact information. If you ever have any problems or get into a jam, or even if you just want to talk, don’t hesitate to call me,”

“Thank you,” Barbara said as she took the card, guilt managing to wriggle it’s way in past every other emotion.

These people hadn’t come here with the intention of destroying their lives, they just wanted to help. But the fact of the matter was they couldn’t, not unless Dorrie had a magic wand tucked next to her pen.

The cold hard truth was that one else could be trusted with Jim’s secret, and by extension, taking care of him.

Dorrie glanced over at Lunau, that seemed to be some kind of queue as they both got to their feet “Alright I think we’re done here,”

Even though she was counting the seconds until they were gone, Barbara forced herself to go through the motions “Are you sure? Is there anything else you need to see?”

Once again Dorrie flashed Barbara her unflappable smile “No need, we were able to take a look at everything we needed to. Take care,”

Barbara gave a halfhearted wave as they walked away “Thanks, have a good rest of your night,”

“You to,” with that Dorrie and Lunau stepped out the front door, shutting it behind them. Barbara sat in silence for a few seconds, then thirty, only when a whole minute had passed did Barbara allow herself to go limp and collapse against the table, awashed with equal parts overwhelming relief and overpowering dread.

It was a massive load off her back to have the investigators out of the house, why had they been here in the first place? Who had called? What exactly had they seen?

Dorrie and Lunau. What were they talking about right now? The curfew? The smell? The bed? The scars? Her?

Barbara pushed against the table and forced herself up straight.

She couldn’t let herself fall into a spiral of paranoia, the bottom line was if one person saw something concerning, another could as well. And regardless of what Dorrie and Lunau had seen, that bell had been well and truly rung. The only thing they could do was watch themselves on all sides and make sure that no one in their lives had reason to be suspicious. 

And it was just one visit, it wasn’t like they were already looking up foster homes. If she and Jim cooperated and played along this was sure to fizzle out in a month or two.

But then why couldn’t she stop trembling?

Barbara dragged herself to her feet, heading into the kitchen to make some tea to hopefully settle her nerves, fighting and losing the battle against working herself into a panic.

And she couldn’t stop thinking about what could have possibly been concerning enough to get a warrant signed?

She paused mid step and glanced around the room. Admittedly the visit with Dorrie and Lunau could have gone better, but it wasn’t like they’d seen anything outright damning. If they made a point to clean up Jim’s room and for Barbara to pick up a few more chores they should be in the clear. And the scars….

Well every animal bit had to look a little different.

So why did she feel almost sick with dread, why couldn’t she shake the feeling that something deeply private had been exposed?

All they’d done was talk a little bit and look around the house, granted Barbara hadn’t exactly been thrilled to walk in on strangers talking to Jim and--

Her heart stopped.

Dorrie and Lunau had a warrant, and they’d already been here when she got home, who’s to say they hadn’t already been here when Jim got home to? What if they’d gotten here way ahead of both of them and done some poking around on their own?

And there was one area of the house they hadn’t touched while Barbara was here.

Chill spreading out from her chest to the rest of her body, Barbara slowly walked over to the door that Dorrie and Lunau had ignored in her presence; desperately hoping to be mistaken. Maybe it wasn’t that noticeable. Maybe it could probably easily be mistaken for something else.

She pulled it open, blowing every last one of those possibilities out of the water.

The claw marks were still there, fresh as if they’d been made that afternoon. A neon sign would be less obvious.

Barbara shut the door, feeling disconnected from the action, like her body didn’t belong to her anymore. But she could still see the claw marks flashing in the front of her brain. They needed to get those fixed, yesterday. But wait, if they’d already been noticed wouldn’t covering them up be more--

Then she caught a glimpse of something worse. 

The exercise band, hanging just inches away; deliberately hung and placed in such a way that it could only have one clear purpose.

How many times had she pulled it shut over the basement doorknob? How many times had she listened to her child screaming from behind that same door?

Just because she couldn’t trust anyone else to take care of Jim didn’t mean she deserved him.

A child wouldn’t get taken away for a slightly smelly room or messy bed, but this….

This would do it.

Suddenly keeping herself under control was the furthest thing from her mind.

Barbara ripped the band off its hook.

Get rid of it get rid of it now.

Couldn’t throw it away, someone might see it in the trash, she needed to destroy it, she needed to--

Barbara ran over to the junk drawer, yanking it open and tearing through its contents, grabbing the first thing that could do the job. A box cutter. 

Whipping the blade out, she slashed and hacked at the rubber cords without hesitation.

Strangers in their house.

Tiny chunks of yellow rubber flew to the floor.

Jim being taken away from her.

She didn’t slow down her frenzied assault on the band. Not even when the blade missed her fingers by millimeters. If anything she sped up, all the emotion from the past hour she’d tried to suppress boiling up to the surface.

Her baby, far away and surrounded by other people.

She couldn’t cut fast enough, tearing and cutting and shredding with everything she had.

Someone else seeing his other face.

Her hands were shaking as she kept slashing at the blade, unable to pull in enough breath as the world collapsed around her.

Strangers, hurting, or even killing Jim because of it.

All of a sudden she had nothing left to cut at. Panting with exhaustion as the band lay in pieces on the floor all around her, just the empty handle in one hand and the box cutter in the other.

It was only now that she registered the feeling of tears running down her face.

“Mom?”

Barbara jerked her head in the direction of the sound. Jim, he had already changed for the night and come downstairs without her noticing, she’d forgotten how stealthy his blue form could be despite his size.

Walking in on his mother tearing apart an exercise band like a madwoman.

Her eyes stung. How could she? How could she let herself break down like this? No matter how stressed she was about the CPS visit, her child must be even more--

Jim hurried over to her and got down on his knees; starting to pick the bits of yellow rubber up off the floor “What’s going on mom? Why were you--”

Acting completely on impulse she hugged him, kneeling down just far enough so that the top of Jim’s head went up to her chin.

“It’s going to be ok sweetie,” she squeezed his shoulders “No--”

No one’s going to take you away.

“N-- nuh-- nothing’s going to happen from just one visit,”

Don’t say those words, don’t put that idea in his head. Barbara was the parent, right now her feelings weren’t what mattered. She needed to pull herself together so she could be there for Jim.

“We-- we just need to cooperate and go along with them for now, everything’s going to be ok, I promise,”

For a moment Jim didn’t move, frozen and stiff in her embrace. Then he softened, leaning into the hug.

Barbara squeezed him tighter “We’re going to get through this together,”

Jim slowly reached up and returned the hug “Right, we take care of each other,”

In spite of everything that drew a fragile smile out of Barbara, even as fresh tears threatened to spill “Right,”

#tales of arcadia #Trollhunters #A Secret's Worth #jim lake jr #Barbara Lake #original character(s) #sunshine au #fanfic #rmvwrites

[dailysuna]

Hello, yes, I heard requests are open!! I would like to know your thoughts on the economic repercussions of Suna losing the battle of the chunnin exams? I thought they were already in a depression before and I think I remember that things ere pretty dire to have them need to make Gaara, but the loss at the Leaf must have hit even harder. What do you think some likely strategies were, and by whom, to stave off complete economic ruin and widespread starvation among their citizens? Thank you!

Okay first off thank you so so so much for sending these in! I kid you not we were overjoyed at seeing them because they are just the type of content we like to see!!! We think about these types of things in depth so its great to see others thinking about them as well. Now let me separate these questions and answer them for you.

Question One

You are very right! Canonically Sunagakure never had great economic standing, but during Rasa’s reign as Kazekage it got worse. Now, this has nothing to do with Rasa’s way of ruling himself, but rather that the Wind Daimyo, ruler of their specific country, not Suna, started giving shinobi missions to Konohagakure instead of Suna. So, Rasa used his abilities to extract precious metals to sell so Suna didn’t collapse; however, their economy never really got back onto their feet because of many reasons I will not get into at this moment. The economy was already suffering under Rasa’s leadership, which was good even if he sucked as a father, so the sudden absence and loss of the battle during the exams would cause much chaos. 

Rasa was killed meaning the country lost their best source of procuring income as well as their main leadership position (although the fact they have a council means they won’t be thrown into complete chaos without a kage good job Suna). His death alone would cause much turmoil and trouble. With the added loss of ninja, supplies (any war requires supplies and loss only means losing all that effort put in), and already strained relationships would not help. How can they even come back from this?

Well first, who is the one implementing the methods? The way we see Suna formatted almost seems to be based on a democracy where the kazekage is but one voice amongst that of the council, thus, the kazekage and the council would be the ones to brainstorm and make the changes necessary. We think that their main method in fact is to lower wages. When shinobi cash in on their missions, they take some of the profit and the government takes the other amount. They would need to start taking more from their already small amount of missions. (In fact in a discussion us mods had about similar situations one time I, mod K, have an oc family I have based in Suna that we figured would be the first to have wages cut.) In consequence I believe they would order local businesses to drop their prices. Suna has no fertile land in sight, their small plot of land in the Land of Fire they acquired years ago their only place where growing is possible, so they rely heavily on importing goods. The government would likely prioritize trying to keep the country running, while reforming relationships with Konoha. I could see them purchasing larger quantities of non-perishable food or ingredients to give out rations. They are also going through a change in power which most likely made the situation very difficult and required the council to do most of the work while Gaara listened and learned.

The important thing to remember is Suna shinobi are extremely patriotic and loyal, so here at dailysuna we think the village as a whole would do their best to cooperate and help one another should it mean the success of Sunagakure, aka a more stable economy.

Question Two

I briefly addressed some of these questions at the end of the last one, but yes we actually have planned a lot of this out in varying degrees of depth. As for the change in power, I already established Suna was facing ruin and shifting power creates another hard element in harsh times. Sometimes it is what you need but sometimes it doesn’t help in the slightest. In the case of Suna, the job of the kazekage isn’t one where someone can jump in after assassination and immediately change it all. The council is there to provide checks and balances for the kazekage as well as advice, its no coincidence we see council members mostly i their middle ages or later. This abrupt shift in power from the dead fourth kazekage to his 12-13 year old son is just a crazy change. Gaara is continuously not trusted by the council, in Shippuden they even discuss his death being beneficial in a meeting, so Gaara needs to not only learn the ropes in his young emo preteen years but to foster a better relationship with the council and the citizens as well. I don’t believe it is actually ever confirmed when Gaara officially took the seat of kazekage, so there could be a few months or even years in there where there was no official fifth kazekage. During this time, the council likely ran Suna, as they have the power to do so. Even a bit into Shippuden I believe the council was still pulling a majority of Sunagakure’s puppet strings as Gaara simply lacked the life experience for certain decisions. As far as for Gaara, we are told that he had a very rough time gaining everyone’s trust but had started doing so before being stolen away by sparky sparky boom boom man and Suna’s original angsty emo preteen, but they never really explain it? Either way, its clear based on everything I said so far that Gaara’s main focus in his transition was mostly on building those relationships others had decided to break out of fear. He is very successful and everyone loves Gaara now including us mods!

Baki. I love this man so so dearly. In an old rp discord server that no longer exists, may it rest in peace, I actually role played Baki so I workshopped an entire backstory for him based on our millions of Suna headcanons that us mods have all accepted as our canon (you’ll find we all share the same exact headcanons). As far as his ascent to council member, I thought long and hard to develop it. Everyone starts out as a basic ninja, and, without going into my headcanons for his childhood, Baki was the same. He slowly rose with his skill, as he is extremely skilled - his stamina is awful but I am convinced its because he is so good none of his battles last long and thus no need for it anyways - and became a trusted aide to Rasa. In our collective brain that contains headcanons we have also determined this is due to the personality we gave Baki, which is he is so dedicated to the village he doesn’t stop to take care of or think of himself. In other words, he can be a pushover when it comes to doing work because he only wants to be of use. This makes him the perfect target for paperwork which we believe is how he got closer to Rasa. Baki and Rasa are never explicitly said to be close or anything of the sort, but the fact that he is entrusting his precious children, one of which has a giant chaos beast inside of his little emo body, plays to the fact that he is familiar with Baki in some regard. Serving as the Kazekage’s aid, aka errand boy in this case, Baki would gain experience with paperwork, the jobs of the council and kazekage, form connections, and display his skill in all assets. 

Now, there are some nasty little children needing to be taken care of. Who better to send than the man who you know will do anything for you, for the country? I am convinced very few ninja would willingly teach preteen Gaara, I mean, I don’t think I would even want to, so no one would be willing to have such an assignment and would do anything to get out of it. Even Baki was likely wary of it and for the longest time debated quitting, although, after some time, the siblings likely began to realize he cared about them (this is something I would love to talk about in more depth some other time) and weren’t as awful towards him. Hence a successful team. Did being the kazekage’s children’s sensei help Baki? Because he was their teacher? No. Because he was able to gain their trust and lead them? Most definitely. This experience likely helped him gain prestige and respect for his abilities which is how we mainly believe he got his position on the council, as that is what the council members seem to have as well as dedication to the village.

As far as being kazekage goes, we love Bakikage! This is what I mentioned earlier about a role play server. What happened is we had a plan for Rasa to be taken out of power in this AU but we didn’t wish for Gaara to suddenly be ripped from the rest of the role play by being stuck with kage duties. So, we sat down to think and realized Baki would actually be a great person to wear that fancy greenish hat. As stated earlier, he has the respect, the strength, the intelligence, the ability to prioritize things, as well as many other necessities for a good leader. The big thing that stood in his way was Gaara’s character development because the angsty emo preteen needed to turn soft boy cottage core obviously. But in all seriousness, I believe what stood between him and his theoretical throne - which he deserves - was honestly himself. Baki serves the village. Baki loves the village. Baki wants the best for the village. Baki is, as we call it, villagesexual. He only desires to be of use, not to gain power or prestige, they just happened to be given to him along the way. His own lack of drive, as well as care for Gaara, because of course if his adopted son wants those fruit snacks he will get them for him. Please Baki, you spoil them too much. So yes, Baki could be the kazekage, he has all the equipment for it, but Gaara’s own desire to be something no one expected and show them he wasn’t a monster was all Baki would have cared about. Even in our rp AU Baki was going to be reluctant about taking the power. Even if he did have that desire and drive, his care for Gaara would likely win out. 

Honestly, it might be best he didn’t have that drive. You know, all the kazekages are assassinated and Baki is not an important enough of a character to Kishimoto to be brought back to life. I will gladly hold onto council member Baki if Bakikage means he dies. But its nice to think how Gaara would actually get to be a kid while Baki gets a hard earned role, huh?

I hope you enjoyed my very very long winded answers - believe it or not I tried to keep it short - and that they actually answered your questions. We all look forward to more submissions/asks from you as well as others! And we’re working on getting those lovely drawing requests planned out.

#dailysuna #suna #sunagakure #headcanons #asks #gaara #baki #rasa #mod k

[itmighthavebeenintentional]

Walk Me Home - Ch 9

Summary: Twenty-four years ago, Kimberly Harper met a boy who changed the course of her entire life before up and leaving one night. She spent years moving past the memories, building a stable, satisfying career as professor of folklore and mythology at the local university. Then the accidents start, and she’s forced to seek help among her hunter contacts. All it takes is a knock on her office door to send Kimber’s carefully built emotional walls crumbling to the ground.

Featuring: Teen Winchesters, high school romance, reunions, misunderstandings, high intensity emotional turmoil, Dean’s love of pie, Dean being adorable, Sam being adorable and maybe a bit nosy eventually, much group adorkable-ness, show-style investigation, mention of our favorite werewolf, gratuitous and obvious love of fall, DID I MENTION ROMANCE, fluff, smut, tension. 

Warnings: Show level violence, show level parental neglect (let’s not John bash, I’m just saying), show-style witchcraft, show-level mental manipulation, stalking, bit of angst, sexual content (higher than show level),swearing, general yearning

Word Count: 3168

Author’s Note: Coming up on the end. Hope you guys have enjoyed this ride as much as I did. One chapter to go after this. All my thanks to @mskathywriteswords​ , @fangirlxwritesx67​, and @cracksinthewalls​ for all your magnificent help. Also, random, the theme song for this chapter is “These Dreams,” by Heart. Just for fun.

Keep in Mind: There are a lot of flashbacks. I tried to write current events in present tense and flashbacks in past tense. Here’s hoping I got everything right!

Please read/heed the warnings. 18+ ONLY. 

In Case You Missed It: Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6 | Ch 7 | Ch 8 ItMightHaveBeenIntentional’s Masterlist

Chapter 9

Kimber’s hands fly up, clenching on the wrist in front of her throat, and the blade twitches in warning. Pain stings the side of her neck, her fingers contract, and a trickle of warmth drips down to her shoulder.

Before she can speak, Dean is in front of them, gun drawn and face murderous. 

“Let her go.”

Laughter, broken and mocking, shakes against her back. Kimber’s vision grays at the edges, and she forces herself to slow her breathing. She focuses on the sting of the cut, slamming her eyes shut to block out the fear she can read in Dean’s eyes. 

“She’s mine, can’t let her go. Just got her. Been lookin’ for so long. Her blood is mine, that’s the rule.” The witch’s voice goes from rough to reedy and back, pitch wobbling all over the place. “Gonna spill this pretty blood. You’re a hunter, you can help. Like she helped the other hunter. Spilled our blood. Took...took...”

Kimber shudders unconsciously, and the witch yanks her left arm back, fingernails digging into the flesh just above her elbow. A strangled yelp escapes her throat, and Kimber bites down on her lip. 

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

“Back up,” the witch barks suddenly. Dean’s eyes flash, nostrils flaring, but he doesn’t move.

“Ain’t happening, asshole. Let her go. I’m not sayin’ it again.” The hammer clicks on Dean’s gun, and the witch adjusts his grip, pulling her more firmly in front of him. The knife presses again, slicing deeper this time, and Kimber‘s focus slips. The trickle becomes a steadier stream, and she opens her eyes to see Dean’s cheek twinge above his clenched jaw. 

He never lowers his aim as he steps carefully back. Kimber is shoved forward, knuckles white on the man’s wrist. Her heart thumps painfully against her ribs as she racks her brain.

I know this, I know what to do, I can get out of this, I can, I just-

“Good boy,” the witch says. The manic glee in his voice sets Kimber’s nerves on edge, clearing a little of the panic from her thoughts. “So good at taking directions. Much better than her. Shoulda taken you up on the roof, she coulda watched you jump. Would’ve been fun. So...fun.”

White-hot fury lances through her fear, burning the last traces of it from her mind, and she remembers exactly how to get out of this hold. She widens her eyes, mouth tight, staring a hole at Dean. It takes a second for him to turn his glaring attention from the witch, but he finally meets Kimber’s gaze.

She has never wished so hard in her life to be a telepath as she does right now.

Please understand, Dean, she thinks with all her might, her eyes flicking down and to the side before meeting his again. Please be ready. 

She can distract the witch, can get out of the way, but she can’t kill him, and she has no idea if he has another spell ready. They’ve got one chance.

“Gonna have some more fun with you two. Messy fun. Had fun with her friends, so many stairs, so many staples.” He holds the last word out, elongating it, and the hairs on Kimber’s neck stand on end. “Make you have fun with each other, gonna get messy. Don’t need a hex bag this time, can just-”

Kimber jerks down on the knife-wielding hand, pulling it towards her left hip. She ducks her head back and shoves her shoulder into the witch’s chest, knocking him off kilter. Her right hand arcs back, completing the circle and shoving the witch’s hand, knife and all, straight into his side. He throws his head back, howling, and a deafening bang fills the room. Pain explodes in Kimber’s ears, and the witch drops, a bullet hole in the center of his forehead.

Kimber blinks, her head spinning, and then Dean is in front of her, his hands holding the sides of her face steady. His mouth opens, he’s speaking, but she can’t hear anything over the clanging in her ears. 

Her eyes stray down to the body on the floor, waiting for it to move. They need to leave, need to get away while they can, but she can’t make her legs work right. Her knees are locked, and the room is swaying. 

No, that’s not right. She’s swaying. She should probably sit.

Then she’s on the bed, and Dean kneels down in front of her, pressing a cloth to the side of her neck. She sucks in a breath, and the pain shocks her brain back into focus. He speaks again, but she can’t understand him. 

“We have to go, he’s going to get back up-” But Dean holds up a hand, shaking his head and frowning. He opens his mouth again, sucking in a breath like he’s going to shout, but then stops. He lifts her hand to the cloth on her neck, indicating for her to hold pressure while he rises. 

He glances around and snatches a pad of paper and pen from the bedside table. He scribbles quickly and holds the pad up in front of her. Her eyebrows lift in amazement as she reads “witch killing bullets.” 

“Seriously?” He nods, then flips the paper and scribbles again.

“Not used to gunfire?” the pad says. She shakes her head, then immediately regrets the action. The room spins, and then Dean is supporting her, steadying her before she hits the floor. He holds her upright for a few moments until she regains her balance, then he waves to get her attention.

He tilts his head towards the door, eyebrows lifted. She closes her eyes, concentrating, and forces her legs to cooperate, pushing up until she’s able to walk unsteadily, leaning hard against Dean. She feels colder than the seasonal temperature calls for, and she shivers hard against him.

Shock, she realizes. Yeah, I’m pretty sure…

The next thing she knows, they’re in Dean’s car, and she’s leaning against the window, her cheek chilled and damp on the glass. Dean’s jacket is draped over her, and she can make out the rumble of the engine and Dean’s voice, responding to someone she can’t hear.

Phone? her worn out brain offers. She yawns, and a dull throb ripples through her ears instead of the usual popping. She winces, and a warm hand slides over hers. 

“Can you hear me, sweetheart?” 

“Yeah,” she says slowly, working her jaw carefully against the ache in her ear canals. “But it’s kind of muffled. Am I gonna need a hearing aid now?”

“No, honey,” he sighs, his relief mixed with exasperation. “One gunshot near your head, you’ll be fine. Wasn’t even a high enough caliber for concussive damage.”

“Oh.” She thinks for a minute, her brain still a little sluggish. “Can I go home, now, though? Because I’d really like to change clothes.” To her growing dismay, she realizes that one side of her is splattered with blood and...something else.

Not to mention her own blood staining her shoulder. Her shirt is definitely beyond saving.

“Sam, check out the motel, see if you can find a car or anything. Maybe we’ll get a clue about who this asshole actually was. I’ll check back in with you.” He disconnects the call and glances at her out of the corner of his eye.

“Think maybe we should get you some stitches for that cut.”

“I have butterfly bandages and pajamas at home,” she counters, feeling mulish. It has been a hell of a night, a hell of a week, and a hell of a month. Her stalker is dead, she’s feeling more disgusting by the second, and she wants to sleep for a year, at least. After the world’s hottest, longest shower, that is.

Dean frowns, his eyebrows drawing down as he prepares to dig his heels in. That’s when Kimber pulls out her trump card.

“I’ve got a Sara Lee deep dish apple pie in the freezer. Can have it hot out of the oven in about an hour.” She wants to laugh as Dean’s foot presses down on the accelerator, but she settles instead for leaning her leaden head on his shoulder and letting her eyes drift shut. The last thing she feels is his arm pulling her just a little closer.

“I got you.”

“I know.”

…

When they arrive at Kimber’s house, the first order of business is a shower (after putting the pie in the oven, of course). True to her earlier promise, Kimber scrubs every inch of Dean’s back, wishing distantly that she was in a better frame of mind to enjoy the experience. Really, though, neither of them are up for any more than tired smiles and rinsing of suds. 

She throws on the jeans and tshirt that are lying on top of her hamper, too thrashed to search for anything else. When they reconvene in the kitchen, the oven still shows eighteen minutes left on the timer. Though Dean took pains during their shower to carefully clean the cut on her neck, he insists on fully inspecting it in better lighting. She’s too worn out to argue, so she drags out her first aid kit and drops into a chair.

She’s surprised at how comfortable the silence between them is. He cleans the cut again with peroxide this time before smearing a thin line of antibiotic ointment. She thinks he mutters something about “dirty witches,” but she’s so tired at this point she doesn’t completely catch it. Her hearing is more or less back to normal, although she keeps having to shake off the sensation that there’s water in her ears.

“Sam’s back at the motel, checking to see if the guy had a car, anything to give us an idea of what his damage was.”

She nods slowly, thoughts swirling in one too many directions. “He said...something about another hunter, me helping another hunter. I checked my notes, though, I don’t…”

“He said a lot of crazy shit, guy was unhinged.” Dean’s voice is hard, his eyes tight as he places butterfly strips along the side of her neck. “Probably not the best idea to revisit all of it just now.”

Gonna have some more fun with you two. Messy fun.

Kimber’s stomach lurches, and saliva pools in the back of her mouth.

“Don’t you throw up on me, I just got clean. I’m not missing out on pie just ‘cause you can’t keep the contents of your stomach to yourself.”

She laughs, just as he intended, broken out of her toxic train of thought. 

“You’re right, I know you’re right. There’s much better things to think about tonight. We can go over all the gory details in the morning.” She raises her hand to stifle a yawn, and Dean catches her wrist, pulling her arm out straight to examine it. His eyebrows lower as he frowns at the line of crescent-shaped gouges on her arm just above her elbow.

“That was where he grabbed my arm. I guess his nails dug in?”

Dean actually clicks his tongue against his teeth and reaches for the peroxide again. When he glances up at her, she can’t hide her amusement from his observant eyes.

“What?” he asks, indignant. “Human fingernails are some of the filthiest things on the planet. And that guy was a witch, no telling what kinds of nasty he’s been diggin’ in. Now hush.”

“Yes, sir.”

The timer for the pie goes off a few minutes later, and Kimber makes the executive decision that a huge slice of shared apple pie with ice cream is more than enough of a balanced dinner for the two of them. She rinses off the plate in the sink while Dean cleans up the scraps from their impromptu doctoring. She sets the plate in the drying rack and turns to find him watching her, one corner of his mouth curled fondly.

“Bed?”

“Bed.”

She excuses herself to the bathroom to brush her teeth and slip into something a little more comfortable. She finishes by wrapping her bathrobe around her middle and tying the belt. When she enters the bedroom, she finds her comforter in a discreet pile on the far side of the room, and Dean reclining on the sheets, clad in nothing but his boxer briefs.

She opens her closet and pulls a spare blanket down from the top shelf. Dean slides off the bed, reaching out to take the blanket when his phone rings from the bedside table. She nods at the phone and shakes the blanket out while he answers.

“Sam found the guy’s car. Wants to know if you want to come check it out.” Dean raises his eyebrows at Kimber. She straightens and looks him dead in the eyes, then unties her robe and lets it drop from her shoulders to puddle around her feet.

His eyes widen, and his voice turns distracted. “Gonna pass tonight, Sam, but you save some of those juicy clues for us tomorrow, ‘kay?”

He hangs up, sets his phone on the bedside table, and turns the covers down. Then he throws himself onto the bed and holds his arms out to Kimber, his eyes sparkling.

“I have to say, Dr. Harper, I never imagined a distinguished college professor would own a set of pajamas like that.”

She switches off the light and slides into bed, her back fitting to his front, the last piece of a puzzle locking into place. His hands begin to roam over her fleece pants, exploring the soft material. She yawns again, letting her head loll back to rest against his collarbone.

“Gotta tell me where you managed to find Sasquatch pajamas; I know exactly what I need to get Sam for Christmas.”

She giggles through another yawn, then turns in his embrace. In the dim light of her room, the green of his eyes is lost to the darkness, but the faint smile on his lips...that she can see just fine. 

Their kiss is slow, soft, and sleepy, and she allows herself two more before settling into the crook of his neck. 

“Dean?”

“Mmm.” His voice is just as gone as hers. His fingers, having found their way under the edge of her pajama top, are stroking over the small of her back as he drifts off.

“Is this what it’s always like for you and Sam? For hunters?”

The quiet stretches on long enough that she thinks he’s fallen asleep, but then he shifts and clears his throat.

“Sometimes. Sometimes it’s better; easier cases, less gun shots, maybe a spell or two thrown around. But you know the lore, you work with hunters. It’s usually a lot worse.” He leaves his sentence there, obviously not willing to elaborate at the moment. 

“On the other hand,” he adds a minute later, his voice thick with fatigue and another emotion she’s sure she’d be able to place if she were properly awake, “I don’t get to end every hunt like this, so that definitely counts for something.”

It definitely does, she thinks. 

…

“You gotta pull the knife-hand towards your outside hip, then swing your head and shoulder at the same time, hit me hard as you can,” Dean coaxed patiently. They had spent most of sixth period study hall actually studying today, so Dean decided they needed to work on something else after school. 

During their second tutoring session, Kimber learned that despite his willingness to be tutored by a girl, he chafed a little at the concept of receiving said tutoring without offering anything in return, so he suggested showing her some self-defense moves.

“In case the star quarterback ever gets any ideas that you’re not cool with,” he grinned. She rolled her eyes but accepted his proposition anyway. It meant coming into close, physical contact with Dean, for one. And it never hurt to be prepared, after all.

They went through the move again, Dean holding a stick to her neck in place of the knife. He made her work through it until she could pull off the maneuver without the sting of bark on her skin, until she managed to jab the stick hard enough against his side for him to wince in real discomfort.

The pleased smile he turned on her as he clutched his ribs made her toes tingle.

“I don’t see me using this kind of a move anytime soon, but it’s definitely good to know,” she admitted, picking up her denim jacket. The days had begun cooling off lately, fall making its presence abundantly known, and she shivered in the breeze as she zipped all the way up to her collar.

“You never know,” he agreed. He picked up her backpack, hanging it over his shoulder. “You could be set upon by anything: a pickpocket, a bank robber, a lone vampire looking for a snack. There’s no telling when that move could help you.”

“I doubt the vampire part, or even the bank robber, but yeah. I know a couple of people who’ve been mugged who could’ve used your expert training.” He slung his free arm around her shoulder, and they headed across the park.

“There are all sorts of critters out there that could creep up on you,” he said, his eyes sparkling mischievously. “Vamps are just one of a hundred, and one of the ones most likely to go for the neck.”

“One of a hundred,” she repeated. She was intrigued by the mention of monsters, had always loved reading old ghost stories and legends, but surely there couldn’t be that many monster stories in the world.

“I’ll trade you stories for pie,” he said. She shot him a skeptical glance, and he gave her an exaggerated, stern face. “I never joke about pie, and I know stories that would make your hair curl. Satisfaction guaranteed.”

“Okay,” she finally agreed. “But we’re talking at least three stories for one piece of pie.”

“Two stories and another self-defense lesson.”

Later on, as they stood outside her front door, she smiled shyly up at him, her cheeks warm despite the drop in temperature.

“I would have gotten you the pie just for another self-defense lesson,” she admitted, marveling at how he made her feel timid and brave all at once. His thumb brushed over her cheekbone, tucking a stray strand of hair out of his way. He pressed a gentle kiss to her mouth, not even long enough for her eyes to flutter shut. His smile, when he straightened, was soft and genuine.

“I would have traded the stories for the same.”

…

Kimber wakes, turning in Dean’s arms. It’s still dark out, nothing is out of place. She settles against him, her lips pressing against his collar bone.

“‘S’matter?” His words are slurred, muffled by her hair, and his arms tighten for a moment. She can feel the stretch rippling down the length of him, and that hidden spot in her chest spreads out, sending tendrils of soothing warmth through every part of her.

“Not a thing. Goodnight, Dean.”

“Night, sweetheart.”

…

Chapter 10

#SPN #spn fic #spn fanfic #spn fanfiction #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #Supernatural fanfic #supernatural fic #dean winchester #original character #original female character #Sam Winchester #teen dean #teen sam #teen winchesters #drama #romance #witchcraft #still no wizardry #angst #teen romance #high school romance #high school sweethearts #nearly done #yay fall

[intelligentdumbass]

Two Bros

Sometimes the messenger couldn’t help but think back to the moment they first met. Sometimes he wondered if his brother did too.

--------------

It was a bright and sunny day, and he was a mischievous little piece of shit.

Apollo glared at the young boy and yet, despite the fact that he had just threatened to throw the bastard into Tartarus, his expression slowly softened.

Hermes grinned. “I’m willing to trade this lyre for the cows!”

--------------

‘Things were so much simpler, back then’ the god thought, as he sighed, laying down on an open field and gazing up into the night sky. Speaking of Apollo…

A head suddenly popped into view, accompanied by a familiar melodious voice.

“What’re you doing here?”

Hermes blinked. “I-” “I’m on a break; somehow sleep wasn’t cooperating with me tonight, so here I am. Hey, if anything, I should be the one asking you that!”

“Ah well, sorry if I startled you then. I was just passing by.”

“Since when did you like to walk around in the dark in some random ass field??”

“Bored.”

“...you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” His brother seemed confused by that remark and just smiled.

The messenger internally cursed. Now the moon wasn’t the only thing his eyes were focusing on.

‘Things were so simple, back then.’

‘How did this happen and how the fuck did I get here??’

Perhaps Perseus had softened him up more than he thought he did.

He was glad to finally see him again, though. Contrary to what he was used to, he could barely even recall the last time he had ran into him. How long had it been, a month? Two months? Three?

Hermes sat up and asked, “You’re really free tonight?”

“Well, I did just say that I’m bored, didn’t I? What about it?”

“So am I.” He looked quite determined all of a sudden. “You wanna hang out? It’s been a while.”

“I guess it has been a while.” Apollo thought for a moment. “What do you have in mind?”

---------------------------------

“Uh, Hermes, where are we going?”

“Wherever the fates will take us!”

“So, basically what I was doing before I bumped into you, walking around until I find something interesting.”

“Well then mister-know-it-all, can you think of something better? Hmmmm?”

The god held in a laugh. “No.” He glanced around, the grass crunching under their steps. “I suppose, with your company, this is sort of… nice; kind of relaxing actually.”

“Heh, of course it is!” The messenger just hoped that the moon wasn’t too bright. “Being around me is the best!”

He raised an eyebrow. “Debatable.”

Hermes pouted, at which Apollo could no longer contain his laughter, not that the younger god cared. If anything, instead of taking offense, it only made him smile.

Then he sighed.

He was a patron of thieves and deceit; his brother was the god who never lied. He had always thought that they would never get along, but it seems that the fates thought otherwise.

He still remembered how it used to be. Back then, his brother would look like he was judging him every time he walked into the room. However, unbeknownst to him, that wasn’t true at all, but that interpretation was through no fault of his. Apollo had always been hard to read, especially back in the early days when he barely knew him.

He’s not sure when, but at some point that judging look was suddenly accompanied by a dazzling smile. The first time it happened though, he recalled that it had been slowly replaced by a small frown.

--------------

“Is everything alright, Hermes?” The blonde raised an eyebrow.

He merely blinked, laughing it off. “Of course! Just got a little distracted for a second there.”

--------------

Ironically, similar to how it was in that memory, Apollo had to snap him back into reality again; this time by having to grab a hold of his arm to prevent him from mindlessly walking off a cliff.

Needless to say, it took a while for Hermes to convince a concerned god of health that everything was okay.

---------------------------------

He could never truly figure out when the predicament first took root; when this feeling really started to grow and gnaw on him. All he knew was that it was probably indirectly influenced by that incident with Perseus and just, everything about Apollo in general. Then again, what the hell did he know? Even Athena realized he was head over heels for him earlier than he did.

--------------

“Hermes,” She whispered. “You’re staring.”

--------------

He shook the thoughts out of his head and tried to regain his bearings. They were sitting on the edge of a cliff overlooking a nearby town. Not only that, there was also music in the air, and his eyes darted to the turtle lyre in the musician’s hands.

This time Apollo noticed. “Did you prefer the silence?”

“Nonono, not at all.” He paused. “By the way, how’s Asclepius?”

“He’s doing fine, now that he’s well adjusted. I’m just glad he’s back.”

Hermes could’ve sworn something about his brother’s gaze felt mildly… bittersweet, somehow.

And so for a few moments, that was all it was, the hum of their lyre. They had no other company aside from a curious deer, a few feet away, munching on a patch of grass.

Then his eyes fell onto the city, specifically one of the blonde’s temples, and an idea popped into his head, but not before briefly arguing with himself.

‘Ooooohhhh, are you going to perform another song number to cheer him up?-’

‘Hey! I thought we agreed to never talk about that ever again!’

‘I mean, it technically wasn’t your voice that ruined it. Remember? Goldie actually quite liked it. You were just a clumsy dumbass that tripped and knocked everything over.’

‘Shush!’

Well, at least the remark about his singing made him feel a little better. This new plan to cheer Apollo up, however, had nothing to do with that and would hopefully be a lot less risky.

“You hungry?” Hermes asked. “I could kinda go for some honey cake right now.”

“Honey cake… I do like me some honey cake and I guess there is nothing that’s going to stop me from just, making one right now.” He paused, before turning towards his brother. “You want to help?”

---------------------------------

Olympus’ garden was huge; its depths filled with paths most don’t even know of. It was here that the two gods sat down on top of a small hill, right in front of a giant crevice that overlooked all of their creations.

Apollo was the one holding the plate that held their precious honey cake. “We really like coming here, huh?”

“Who wouldn’t? The view’s spectacular.” While his brother was busy staring off into the horizon, Hermes took the opportunity to take a small bite out of their dessert. “Damn, the cake tastes really good by the way.”

Apollo was about to protest about the bastard sneakily taking the first bite, when Hermes softly pressing a tiny piece of cake against his mouth.

“Come on goldie, try it!”

He gave him a look, but still ate it anyway. “Mm… I guess so, not bad. Actually, kinda proud of it!” His eyes faintly lit up.

Hermes couldn’t help but smile at that. “We should do this more often-”

To his surprise, this time Apollo was the one that help up a piece of the dessert for him. “We really should.”

The messenger reluctantly obliged and took a bite, but suddenly froze. The blonde was holding his chin and had used his thumb to brush away most of the crumbs near his lips. Now he felt a little dizzy.

“Maybe I should ask the others for some recipes-” Apollo stopped, immediately getting worried when Hermes had his hands over his own mouth and started choking.

-------

“Hey, hey, hey Herms?-”

“Y-” “Yeah, yeah I can hear you, I’m fine-”

“Fine my ass!”

“I mean, well that’s not wrong either-” “Oh my fucking gods I HATE MYSELF SO MUCH-” Hermes just covered his mouth again while Apollo frowned in confusion, but decided that there were other far more pressing matters to attend to and continued analyzing his brother’s condition; even placing two fingers on his neck to check for this idiot’s pulse.

“What the hell happened?! You looked like you had a fucking heart attack.”

“I… I think you’re over thinking this. It was probably just me being a dumbass.” He laughed nervously.

Apollo didn’t seem very convinced.

Hermes internally cursed himself again; placing his hands on both of the blonde’s shoulders. “So I choked on a cake, so what? Look, seriously I’m fine, okay? Come on, relax.”

“If you say so…” It was obvious that it barely comforted him at all. Still, Apollo felt bad when he frowned. He didn’t want the messenger to start blaming himself and feeling guilty about ruining the mood. “I’m sorry.  I was just really worried.” He briefly paused, before muttering, “I love you. Even if we’re gods, the last thing I want is to see you suffering or incapacitated-”

“It was just a fucking honey cake-” “wait.” Hermes stared, suddenly feeling like he could barely breathe; only managing to just barely stutter out, “W-” “What did you just say?”

The musician looked puzzled. “Hm? Did I say something I shouldn’t have?”

“Huh? Nononono! I just-” The thought of making Apollo feel even worse made his insides knot; panicked, he just blurted out, “I-” “ILOVEYOUTOO!”

Apollo didn’t expect that response at all. He barely had any time to process anything when Hermes stood up, about to scram, but a stray grapevine made him trip at the first step.

The messenger heard someone giggle. One second he was face first onto the ground; the next he was suddenly looking up at a familiar blonde, cradled in his arms.

“I had a feeling you were hiding something from me…” Apollo’s frown turned into a teasing grin.

“Pft! What in Zeus’ name are you talking a-” “about…” His voice slowly trailed off the moment he felt a hand cup his cheek.

Apollo just, laughed. “My, my, who knew the charismatic silver tongue bastard could be as red as-”

“Oh fuck you!”

The god raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Hermes paused, and then cursed, now avoiding eye contact.                                                        

“You alright? For someone who knows the mortal realm like the back of his hand you look… kinda lost?”

He was reluctant to even respond this time. “No shit; this isn’t something I’m experienced in.”

“Experience in what? Navigating the road to my bed?”

At that point his brain might’ve just malfunctioned, while the other chuckled; his smile only getting wider.

“Okay sorry, sorry. I couldn’t help it-” He stopped.

His arms were empty.

-------

Fortunately, in the process of trying to run away, Hermes somehow ended up back at the hill. He was hesitant, but curious, and the moment he took a closer look he immediately felt his heart drop. Apollo didn’t really look upset but rather… unexpressive?

Apollo hadn’t run after him because he figured that the messenger needed some time to breathe, so you can imagine his surprise when he found himself suddenly wrapped up in a hug, accompanied by a shit ton of apologies.

“I… Herms, it’s okay.” He laughed, giving him a few pats on the back. “I’ll be fine; now you’re the one over thinking things.”

The god was suspicious, but didn’t pry any further, at least for now. Instead, he just hugged a little tighter. “Still, sorry for being an absolute fucking disaster.”

“No need. Hey, on the bright side it was kinda cute-” The musician felt a faint punch on his side, causing him to laugh even more.

“Anyway…” Hermes sighed, pulling away. “What happened to the honey cake?”

“It’s over here.” Apollo picked up the plate that he had set aside, and broke off a small piece of the dessert. “You still want some?”

The messenger stared at it for a bit, and then parted his lips.

---------------------------------

Instead of waking up to the walls of his room, his eyes were greeted by familiar tuffs of gold. Hermes immediately sat up and tried to get his bearings. It was then that it hit him.  

They haven’t left at all; they both fell asleep in the garden.

That wasn’t the only thing he noticed. Looking around, there weren’t just tiny drops of morning dew on the grass, but several puddles scattered all over.

‘Huh? Did it rain?’

He glanced at the blonde. Neither of them had a single speck of water on them.

‘Guess he’s just that hot, huh?’ He softly snickered at his own pun.

He knew he probably had a few jobs to do, but instead of standing up, he just laid back down, wrapping an arm around the musician’s waist and gave him a quick peck on the lips.

Unbeknownst to Hermes, Apollo smiled, and that wasn’t the only detail he missed. The vine that had made him trip was gone, like it never existed, but what did it matter? All the messenger cared about was going back to sleep.

#hermes #apollo #hermapollo #writing disaster hermes is FUN #greek gods #greek mythology #not as serious #mostly just having fun #when i wrote this #MyWritingShit #two bros #sitting on a hilltop #0 feet apart cause they’re so gay-

[whatisthisidefk]

The River, the Sea, and the Stars Part 2 (SFW version)

Panic clawed at Therien, dragging him down to the floor beside the bed. He clutched at his head and struggled to breathe. Tried to reconcile what he'd seen, what he'd heard, the fear in Andros's voice as he was pulled into darkness. The entreaty to stay away.

Don't look for me. The taste of Andros still lingered on his lips.

Normally, Andros would be the one to ground him, help him through his panic attacks, but Andros wasn't there this time. Therien had to get through it on his own. There wasn't anyone else to hold his hand or say the right things. There was only Therien, alone, alone, alone…

No. There was one other he could turn to. Someone who, despite everything, would help. At least, he hoped she would. She'd understand. She had to. Therien couldn't let himself chase the what-if, what-if that spiraled through his brain. He had to believe in their friendship, however distant it may have grown. Without Andros there, she was the only person he trusted enough to ask.

With shaking fingers, he groped for his phone and didn't bother trying to search the contact list. He knew the number by heart, even if he hadn't dialed it in over two years.

Therien begged it to connect. It was late for him, so it would be hours later where he was calling, but he didn't think he had the strength to try again if it didn't pick up.

It rang three times, then, "Hey." Her voice was rough with sleep, but it was her. "Hey, sweetheart. You okay?"

He stifled a sob, poorly. "N-non. Je suis désolé. Je suis désolé, Dra. Andros...il a disparu. M'aidez…"

"In English, Therien. Try to focus. French isn't my strong suit and I can't help you if I don't understand you."

English felt impossible, but he tried. "Je--I don't know what to do. He--he's gone."

"Who's gone? Talk to me, hon."

He angrily wiped at the tears on his face with the heel of his hand. "Andros. Ah, uh, he disappeared! He was there. Here, with me, and then...something took him?" How was he supposed to explain any of it to her when he didn't understand it himself? "Dra, I--I need help. I need to find him."

He heard her sharp intake of breath, and her gentle concern became more focused. With a note he couldn't identify, she said, "Therien, tell me--what exactly happened to Andros?"

Something broke inside him. "There were chains. They dragged him away with no warning. He was there and then he wasn't. And I don't know what to do. Help me," he finished weakly. "Dra...I'm sorry. For everything."

"There's nothing to be sorry for," she said, and somehow, that got through to him. Dra never lied. It was a constant in his universe. His breathing slowed as she went on. "This is what you're going to do, okay? You're going to pack up everything and check out of the hotel. Get on your plane back here, and text me when you land. I will pick you up. I...I think I can help. But you're going to have to trust me. Can you do that?"

"Anything," he said. "Dra...thank you."

"You know I'll always be here for you. Right?"

"I know. I love you for it."

"You okay now?" The motherly note he always associated with her came through the phone like a hug. "Do you need me to stay on with you?"

"I'm okay. I'll be okay. I'm...I'm going to get dressed and get out of here. I can't stay anymore." He kept seeing those chains, over and over, every time he looked at the shadows. "See you in a few hours."

"I'll be ready. Love you." The call ended, leaving Therien alone in the room once more. He stared at his hands for a moment and concentrated on his breathing.

In, out. In, out. He could do this. Pack up everything, call a car, check out. He'd sleep in the airport, if he could manage sleep at all, and then he'd be home. Dra said she could help, which meant she would do everything in her power to aid him.

***

A miraculously earlier red-eye flight and three cups of coffee later, the wheels touched down in Boston and Therien retrieved his luggage. He texted Dra the moment he was able to, so by the time he exited the airport, a familiar black Mini Cooper waited by the curb. She waved at him from beside it.

Therien dragged the suitcases across the other lanes of cars picking up passengers and heaved them into the open trunk. Then, before he could say anything, his tiny friend opened her arms to hug him.

Therien found himself kneeling to hug her back. She wore a massively oversized sweater (black) over a long, rumpled peasant skirt (also black), and even in her heeled boots, she barely stood over four feet tall. Still, she managed to envelop him in a fierce, warm hug that negated the chill of autumn.

He didn't realize he was crying until his vision blurred. "I missed you," he said into her shoulder as she stroked his hair. "I'm so sorry."

"Nonsense," she said firmly, reluctantly disengaging from the embrace. "Now let's get moving before that airport cop decides to yell at me for parking here too long, hmm? We'll stop for Dunkin' and you can tell me everything back at the shop."

"Okay."

***

The drive back from Boston to Northampton passed in a blur. Therien nibbled at a glazed donut and sipped the hot, familiar coffee, but he let himself be lulled by the monotony of the Mass Pike. He wasn't ready to talk yet, and he knew Dra wouldn't push him to. He still felt wrung out and dazed by the past eight hours--had it only been that long? He went over the litany of events in his mind, not for the first time, and decided that it was perfectly acceptable to feel the way he did.

Above--and underneath, and all throughout--his thoughts, the one bright thing that he clung to was the memory of how happy Andros had been. That whatever happened, Therien knew his feelings were returned after all.

They left the highway and turned toward downtown Northampton, following Main Street into the heart of the Five Colleges area. Therien had spent enough time wandering around town that he felt a wave of nostalgia at the familiar brick and stone shops, the Hotel Northampton, the Calvin Theater, the town hall. It was the kind of place that didn't change on the face very often, making it easy to picture across years with very little difference.

Dra pulled down a side street on a hill and parked at the curb. The lawn rose up at a steep angle to the right, with steps cut into the earth that led to a standalone wood and brick building. Above the porch, a hand-painted sign read, The Tea Dragon's Hoard. "Here we are. Same old shop."

"It looks exactly as I recall." Therien smiled down at her. "It's good to be back."

"This place agrees with you," she said, with a peculiar emphasis on place. "You shouldn't have left."

"It was a professional decision, Dra."

"You belonged here!" She stopped herself. "Sorry. I was this close to saying 'I told you so' but that would have been cruel. And wrong.You had to pursue your career."

He hefted the two suitcases--his and Andros's--from the back of the car. "Considering last night...maybe not so wrong."

"Don't." Dra sent him a worried glare. "Come on. We have a lot to discuss, and I'm not going to start until I have a proper pot of tea."

A handwritten sign on the door said, "Closed Due to Emergency. Visit us online!" It made a small curl of warmth in Therien's chest, that Dra would sacrifice a full day of business for him. He felt the close, homey atmosphere of the Hoard settle around him as they walked through the empty shop to a private stairwell at the back. Crystals and semiprecious stones twinkled at them as they passed, and the multitude of dried herbs and oils along the wall behind the apothecary counter merged into one complex scent that meant comfort to Therien. Dra unclipped the "do not enter" chain and let him precede her up to the apartment on the next floor.

"In here." She led him through a tiny kitchen, equally tiny living room, and to a short hallway with three doors. "Spare closet, I mean, guest room." She winked and opened the leftmost door. It reminded Therien of the attic room he'd had in his house in Provence, when he was a child.

"It's perfect," he said, and meant it. There was only room for a single bed, a low, square nightstand, and a braided rug. Two walls held out-of-season coats and dresses (all in black), and a small window let in the afternoon light. The clothes made the space feel even smaller, but also cozier. "I don't remember you having this set up like this before."

"I had a friend stay with me for a few months. It was the best solution for her, and now I have a guest bed. Now, put your things down and collect yourself, and I'm gonna make some tea. Come out in like, ten minutes. Okay?"

***

"I need to hear what happened in its entirety," she said with no preamble when he emerged from the room after the short break. She did not comment on the fresh tear tracks on his cheeks, though she did get up to fetch a damp washcloth that she handed him wordlessly. It was warm and felt soothing on his skin.

"Everything? Are you sure?"

She rolled her eyes and settled back on the couch with her tea. "Everything, but leave out the gory details. I don't need to know about each grope and kiss, if that's what you mean."

His face warmed, and suddenly the cloth felt cool in comparison. "Ah. So...I decided last night that I was going to tell Andros how I felt."

"Good for you!"

"This is hard, Dra."

"Sorry. But still. Good for you. I knew you'd work up the courage one day."

He closed his eyes and counted backward from five in French. "We went back to the room and, ah, we were intimate together. It was...beautiful. Dra, he told me he loved me."

She gazed softly at him. "Of course he did. He's been head over heels for you for years."

"How--are you joking?" he demanded. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Sweetheart, it wasn't my place to say. He told me in confidence, as you told me the same kinds of things and I kept them from him. I'm not a meddler, I'm a confidant."

"What an oblivious fool I've been," he mourned, head in his hands. Dra tsked and pulled her feet up beneath her on the couch.

"None of that, now. Tell me the rest."

He sighed. The knot that hadn't left his belly seemed to grow tighter. "After--afterward, we were just talking. We both felt so happy. Things were going to work out. And then...I heard the sound of chains. They just appeared out of nowhere and then they--I don't know how they did it, they just clasped themselves around him."

Her fingers tightened on the teacup. "What did they look like? Did you see them clearly?"

"Gold," he said, and shuddered. "He seemed to know what they meant."

"What did he say?"

"He told me not to look for him. That he loved me." The tears were back, but he didn't care. "He was afraid. He tried to struggle but then--he was gone! They just pulled him away. I didn't see where. He was just...gone."

Therien broke down again. With Dra, it was okay. She was safe.

She was at his side at once, arms around him, holding him close in a protective embrace. "Hush, now. I know you're worried, and scared, and you have every right to be." Dra pulled up an embroidered ottoman and sat on it so she could look up into Therien's eyes. "Now, love, I need for you to pay attention and believe what I say, for this is the truth, as much as any one thing can be Truth."

Therien hugged his arms to himself, but he nodded, confused but willing.

"I know how to find him. But!" she held up her hands to keep him in his seat; he was already halfway to his feet. "But! We cannot just go there. I need to prepare both of us for whatever we will encounter. And before I even do that...I need to know something."

"Anything." The word came out breathlessly.

Her green eyes seemed to glow under her short auburn bangs. "What would you give up to see him safe?"

"I--I don't have much money, but there's the sponsorship--"

"No," she said more sternly. "What would you, Therien, give up of your own, in order to save Andros?"

"Whatever it takes."

"Think about this. You don't know what the cost will be. Your left eye? Your ability to swim? A memory? What would you sacrifice in order to see Andros go free?"

"I will do whatever I must," he said; the words seemed almost pithy but there was a weight behind them that even startled Therien. "I will set him free, no matter who or what has him, and I will do anything to make it so."

"Would you give up your freedom? Your life?"

"Yes," he said slowly, and realized he meant it. "Why, though? What do you know about this?"

"That resolve will be tested, sweetheart," she said, standing. She laid a hand on his shoulder. "Now, go. Sleep. I have things to ready and you must rest."

"I don't think I could sleep--"

"Drink this." She produced a small vial and tipped a few drops into his teacup. "It will help."

"What is it?"

Dra shrugged. "A little of this, a little of that. Nothing toxic. It will give you dreams, though. Shut your door so I don't have to listen to them." She winked, and her quiet humor convinced him to down the potion, whatever it was.

He trusted Dra.

Next he knew, he was being eased down to his borrowed bed. Dra tucked the blanket around him; somewhere along the way, his shoes had been removed, and his sweatshirt lay folded on the nightstand. "Rest," she said, voice distant. "I'll come get you when I'm ready to go."

He tried to respond, but his mouth was full of flowers and he was falling, falling, falling.

#river sea stars #jenny writes #original fiction

[loreleywrites]

The Gateshead Engine

If you bought the itch.io game bundle for racial justice and inequality a month ago, one of the games it contains is a single-player ttrpg called The Gateshead Engine by Adam Roy (Follow the link to buy and play yourself!)

The basis of the game is simple: It is Victorian England, and you have been commissioned to built a steampunk mech. You flip cards from a tarot deck to give you situations for your diary entries, and you can finish...basically whenever you want.

I enjoyed it greatly, and wanted to publicly share my game. Content warning for a bit of body horror and minor surgical stuff at the end? It’s not like, explicit though. Anyway, I haven’t stretched my horror muscles in a while, and I love how this game started vs where it ended. Hope y’all enjoy!

Starting Questions:

—Who are you, and why did you agree to build the Engine?

I am Loreley Weisel, German thermodynamicist on the brink of bankruptcy. Europe is corrupt, and my will careens towards destruction.

—Who is your patron, and what, if anything, do you know about them? Why did they tell you they wanted the Engine?

My patron is an English aristocrat, Thomas Boroughshire III. All I know is that he has deep pockets and a fascination for thermophysics. He wants my Engine as a mechanical marvel, a party trick for a boy with too many years behind him.

—What is your community like? What do they value and what do they fear?

The community is wealthy. Large estates line a well-kept road. Dogs are bred. Horses are shoed. Foxes are hunted. Gardens beg for release from their clipped restraints. The air itself is made of brick. They value stability, power (or the projection of it), and greed.

—What will the Engine do when it’s completed, and what will it change? (This may shift during play; for now, decide what you think the answer is when you agree to build the Engine.)

My Engine is a herald of death. The aristocracy will be beaten into submission, and England will follow France in the march towards the guillotine.

My Engine:

Diary:

Monday, April 26, 1880—

I do not belong here, in this kingdom, in this estate, in this…garage. Hope’s Paradise is far from the largest house in this community, and His Highness can barely provide enough space for me to work. He does not respect me, nor does his staff. Dinners will be cold on nights I work late. There will be no hot water when I go to draw a bath. They do not want me here.

Fitting enough; I do not wish to dwell here any longer than I have to.

The neighbors are no better. Squire Duncannon of Blah Blah Blah invites me to speak German whenever he harasses me with what he calls conversation, but refuses to use the tongue himself. His wife has never uttered a word beyond her scowl. When I pass by Covington Place, the children stop and watch, twittering among themselves. I wonder what the Duke and Duchess have told them about me. I would not know, for I have never been allowed inside their gates.

England will burn, and this wretched grove of greed will be the tinder.

Wednesday, April 28, 1880—

That godforsaken child has entered my workshop again. Grease smeared all across the floor. Handprints of coal dust cover every box and bench. Every fire hazard should come at the cost of a finger. The little brat will have nubs by week’s end.

Friday, April 30, 1880—

Saturday, May 1

A song. Melancholic, but strong. Thunderous, but ephemeral.

How many hours have slipped by tonight? Dream grips my mind like a starving urchin with hardtack. Maybe these gears and pipes are singing me a lullaby.

Oh for heaven’s sake it’s half two. To sleep with me.

Tuesday, May 4, 1880—

Fucking Third of Family horseshit-brained fool. Every thief with deep pockets thinks themselves a scientist just because they bought opium from one once. I know how to build my Engine. Fuck off with this talk about gas compression. My math is sound, and changing one element means redesigning the entire boiler system.

His Highness has been placated with some minor aesthetic downgrades that better cater to his asinine tastes. For now.

Wednesday, May 5, 1880—

Fucking Third of Family horseshit-brained fool. If it weren’t for the coal dust handprints, I’d think he was the child ransacking my workshop with relentless fervor. Instead, he has simply decided to rearrange my supplies to the garage entrance. My ankle will heal in a few days, but I cannot work on my Engine until it mends. Time is money, and he has more money than I have time.

Sunday, May 9, 1880—

The ankle works.

Monday, May 10, 1880—

His Highness invited his dearest, most important friends to dine in his atrociously cultivated garden. The Wells boy snuck off and found me in my workshop. I have never met another child like him. His curiosity is insatiable, and he knows more about thermodynamics than most learned men I’ve met.

He asked me a question I could not answer: “If this machine is meant for war, how can you fight a navy with it?”

I suppose this will be a larger problem when the revolution hatches from England and threatens the mainland. For now, I must keep focused on this single-minded task. If we make it that far, I will find an answer.

…Perhaps I am naïve and misguided.

Wednesday, May 12, 1880—

The entire community has decided to roll their porcine asses to the south of France for holiday. Such a shame I contracted a bit of a cough and elected to stay here to recover. The travel would have been much too hard on my delicate frame.

Two weeks of uninterrupted work begins tonight.

Friday, May 14, 1880—

For. Fuck’s. Sake.

Her Highness fainted at the pier moments before they were to board a ferry across the Channel. Feared she had come down with the same pestilence I had contracted. Now the entire extended Boroughshire rabble is returning posthaste.

The quiet? Gone. Their need for attention? Only I can sate it. My Engine? Still incomplete, and will be for some time.

If I drown myself in enough whiskey, the mystery of my death should keep their tiny minds occupied for at least a week.

I intend to refill my lamps and work as long as I can tonight. May their arrival home tomorrow wake me at noon for all I care.

Saturday, May 15, 1880—

I was awoken at nine in the morning. Forty minutes of unrestful rest.

Tuesday, May 17 18, 1880—

Knocked the fucking lamp looking for my pen. Lucky I didn’t burn this entire estate to ash.

…Perhaps unlucky.

He even haunts my dreams, touching my Engine and reducing it to rust at the moment that should have been my victory. What Hell of idiocy have I gotten myself into? Fucking aristocrats standing in the way of their own downfall by sheer incompetence. Back to sleep with me.

Tuesday, May 18, 1880 (again)—

I’ve read a number of fascinating papers that I received in the mail today. While I admit I know little of the burgeoning field of electrical engineering, the work being done in the States is fascinating. I intend to take a short trip into London to seek more research (And get a right stein of beer; this house and its occupants are worthless.)

Friday, May 21, 1880 (London)—

I have been granted access to ~~Royal~~ archives. Despite my distaste for locking knowledge away from the public, I am nonetheless grateful for this opportunity. All the kingdom’s brightest minds (what few there are) have recorded years of research on every possible thread of science.

Galvanic principles are fascinating to me. To think, all these thousands of years, we have had electricity inside us! Thoughts percolate, but I do not yet know to what end.

I shall return to the cursed Golden Land in the countryside tomorrow. Between my notes and a few papers, I have been allowed to abscond with, I am reinvigorated with hope for my work.

Saturday, May 22, 1880—

I should extricate and boil every last one of their tongues!

The entire community’s patriarchs were waiting in the living room of Hope’s Paradise (Clearly not my hope.)  Word got out of my project, and every cock-waggling primitive decided that this was a matter that required ending their holiday early. While their offspring splash in the Mediterranean, their sagging eyes are now fixed on that fucking garage.

I don’t know who is merely curious, who else feels inadequate enough to lie about their scientific credentials, or who wants to break my Engine merely because I’m a woman. Too many men in my workshop. Had I less restraint, an axe may have been all I needed to solve this annoyance.

Hopefully the dullards bore sooner than later. I may need to beat Mr. Duncannon with a German dictionary regardless.

Tuesday, June 8, 1880—

Between the constant need to shun nosy men from my workshop and the actual work itself, I have not had the constitution to keep my diary.

But today…ah, today! The control platform appears to be totally functional! I have toiled too long to have failure spring from my fingertips. Rotational velocities are stable, cranks and gears are greased and mobile, the Gatling guns are…gatling.

For the first time since I began my work here, I feel like I have accomplished something great. The aristocracy’s days are numbered.

Monday, June 14, 1880—

Work continues to sap my focus. Boiler…not cooperating. I fear I will lose all the work I’ve done on it due to some unforeseen flaw. A redesign at this stage would be costly, but so would continuing with a faulty boiler. Either way, I’m taking tomorrow off from work to clear my head.

Thursday, June 17, 1880—

Time off has proved productive. I finally finished reading the documents on loan from the ~~Royal~~ archives, and there is a fascinating bit of research by a man by the name of Frankenstein. His work on galvanic sciences from earlier this century are far beyond anything I’ve found from English archives in the last decade. This even only seems to be his initial work; perhaps I can track down his true masterpieces of intellect. Maybe I don’t even need to redesign a boiler…

One blight on my day over lunch: that coal-handed bastard child has returned. I think it’s Constance.

Wednesday, Jun 23, 1880—

The Andersons down the way lost one of their bitches last night. She was a beautiful hound, but her memory will live on in my diary. I wanted some hands-on experience with Frankenstein’s work, so I was able to procure the corpse for a small fee (to His Highness who is paying my bills).

Wondrous! Such are the things I learned. A body, made of muscle, controlled by electricity. I suspect I may need to seek out an anatomist or some other scholar of the biological sciences to continue this research.

My mind is alight with so many ideas…

Wednesday, June 30, 1880—

June ends and takes the boiler with it. My Engine shall have a grand new design. Thomas has been placated by promises of surprise. “The most groundbreaking work in thermodynamics!” I lied. His is a mind easily led astray by spectacle.

Sunday, July 4, 1880—

Constable came round today. Mr. Duncannon hasn’t been seen in three days. He left for an important business meeting in Paris, but missed his boat. Coach is missing too. It’s all very curious. I did everything I could to keep that sniveling pig out of my workshop. Given the way his nose recoiled into his skull, it seems the stench of grease and ozone was enough.

In more academic news, I received notice that more of Victor Frankenstein’s research papers are being released from an archive in Switzerland. I should have them by week’s end. My excitement radiates like the sun.

Friday, July 9, 1880—

Wolfgang. Heinrich. Fuchs.

At my forsaken door. With my forsaken research papers.

How the fuck did he find out I was working on galvanism? Who is he still connected to? Which one of my friends betrayed me (besides him)?

He was in this fucking house asking me fucking questions about my fucking work. Fuck him. He better not stick around. After what he took from me…fuck.

Tuesday, July 13, 1880—

Chaos reigns.

Wolfgang has shacked up with the Andersons. He swings by almost daily. When I’m not actually busy, I try to look it.

Constance has gotten her hands into the coal again (I haven’t disposed of it for appearance’s sake.)

The Duncannons are planning a funeral for…whatever his name was. I don’t think I ever bothered to remember anything about him other than when he would finally leave this hellish corner of England.

Thomas has been migrating in and out of Hope’s Paradise. Something about a trade deal in India. It sounds very important for a man who makes riches off the backs of foreigners.

I could use a big stein at a small biergarten.

Sunday, July 18, 1880—

Widow Duncannon speaks! Her first words spoken to me in the months I’ve resided her are accusations that I have something to do with the death of her husband and his driver. Utter nonsense. The police found the driver at the bottom of a pint in a pub last week. The way gossip echoes around these families, however, I won’t be surprised if they begin to turn on me.

My work must accelerate.

Thursday, July 22nd, 1880—

Widow Duncannon, Duchess Byron. Mrs. Boroughshire. All the Andersons. None of them will speak to me. They glare if they see me, so I try to keep to my room and my workshop as much as possible. I’m lucky Her Highness is so subservient to Thomas. This house would be unbearable if she had any willpower over it.

Tuesday, July 27, 1880—

Celebrations are in order! I have poured over work by Golgi, Frankenstein, and Schwann. Every guide I could find on electrical engineering. Trial after trial, failure after failure. And yet…

And yet.

It’s not that I have hope my Engine will work, it’s that I have knowledge that it will. My designs are so clear to me. My protypes are all working as planned. The path to revolution has been laid out before me. Now it is up to me to walk it.

Tomorrow is the beginning of the end.

Wednesday, July 28, 1880—

Coal hands. Inside my workshop. Inside. My. Workshop. And this time, ha! This time, I have a culprit.

I made it very clear to Constance that she will not be loitering in my laboratory anymore.

Saturday, August 7, 1880—

What have I become?

Why did I begin building my Engine? Something about a war? Who can say. Time marchers onward. My Engine will march with time. Every experiment has made it clearer to me that I have stumbled upon the greatest discovery of this era.

No one celebrates with me. Not Thomas. Not Her Highness. Not Constance, nor the boys, Timothy and Franklin. Even Wolfgang is silent (at last).

The neighbors have stopped visiting. I wave when I pass them by, but they just sneer and hurry past. Finally, I can work in peace and silence. Finally my genius can become reality. Finally all of Europe will know what Loreley Weisel is capable of.

I have become the herald of great change, a conduit of the very building blocks of existence.

Tuesday, August 10, 1880—

A toast to the Duke and Duchess! May their patronage live forever in my greatest work! Soon I hope to bring the Andersons into this project as well.

Wednesday, August 18, 1880—

The Engine lives! The support of this community has been invaluable as the final construction has occurred. Everyone has poured their hearts into my work, and it’s truly a masterpiece that could not have been built alone.

My galvanic calibrations have been finalized. My circuits have been tested. It is nearing time for me to put all of myself into my work. I will see success.

Saturday, August 21, 1880—

The loneliness is getting to me. Not even the dogs bark anymore. I talk to my Engine, but its flesh is silent.

Monday, August 23, 1880—

The constable returned. With six policemen. He had questions about His Highness and the Duke and Duchess and Widow Duncannon. I told him the truth: I could help him find them.

I cooperated.

I have a surplus.

Wednesday, August 25, 1880—

Why shouldn’t I? It worked for them. Shouldn’t it work for me? All the principles are the same. They’re muscle. I’m muscle. They’re electric. I’m electric. Why shouldn’t I be in control?

Thursday, August 26, 1880—

Wolfgang, that bastard! He said he knew everything that I had been up to. That is outrageous! He knows nothing!

I have destroyed my room in rage. Fucking Fuchs! What does he think he knows? Who has he told? I should have killed him. Why didn’t I kill him? He doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t deserve my creation. He covets it. He wants it for himself. I know it. He got me kicked out of university, he got me run out of Germany. He is jealous. Jealous! He knows I’m better. He knows I’m smarter. He wants what I have, my Engine, my child. He can’t have it. He can’t. He won’t. Where did he go? Fucking Wolfgang I will fucking kill him. He knows nothing. He’s bluffing. He just wants my success. My genius. He is nothing. He will be nothing. Nothing. Nothing. He nothing. Nothing. nothing nothing nothing noth

Sunday, August 29, 1880—

This will be the final entry to my diary. The morning air is heavy with the musk of summer. It’s strange to me how calm I am given what I am about to do.

My Engine has come so far from its days as a sketch on a piece of parchment. Veins of red pulse behind the metal. Sinew, steel, and lightning working in harmony. Every stitch and every suture as perfect as the one before it. So many died for its creation, and so many more will die when I am finished today.

I expected my hand to shake more as I inked the incision lines across my skin. I expected my mind to be foggier as I tried to remember every nerve that would need work. Even the pain I am about to endure has not shaken my resolve.

I am uncertain what the scientific community will think of my work. Of the sacrifices I made. But I have proven a radical truth: All the money in the world does not stop one from being built from the same parts as another. And that’s all we are: Animals with organs and muscles and electricity surging through us. If machines can harness that energy, why can’t we? If new machines can be invented, why not new humans?

All I can hope for now is that my composure holds through the entire procedure. Once I am integrated into my Engine, I will command a mind and body unseen by man. Unparalleled by any of God’s creation. Magnificent in its genius. My genius.

Today I will change humanity forever.

#loreley writes horror #body horror #surgery #The Gateshead Engine

[meganshinsou-tm]

i’m here. (a)

☙ pairing: bakugou x reader

☙ theme:  angst

☙  cw/tw: profanity, grief, nightmares

☙  a/n-request:  random heartbreaking idea i had to get out of my head after watching p.s. i love you one day. sorry everyone.

{ ** continuation here } 

Jolting upright Bakugou panted, his red eyes wide open and heart hammering, sweat soaking his chest and back. There was a sick nauseous feeling in the pit of his stomach as he tried to even his breathing and calm down. 

Flinging the covers off, Bakugou growled and swung his feet off the bed and slowly stumbed to the bathroom. Turning on the light he winced at the brightness of it before getting used to it and turning on the faucet. The hero leaned over, splashing cold water on his face and literally cooling down in no time. When he was done Bakugou stood before the sink a bit longer, hands gripping the edges while his nightmare played over in his head.

You cradled in his arms and smiling, a hand brushing his cheek, his forehead pressed to yours and biting back all his tears and raw emotions. You bled out from a piece of debris impaling your abdomen, your sweet and wavering voice trying to keep him together.

“You’re so fucking stupid, why did you do that - I was supposed to take that hit!” He spat out through gritted teeth.

“And that kid too? I think you’re dumber than me Kats,” you spoke and tried to chuckle but a breathy choke cut it short.

Bakugou held you tighter, his body going numb and hearing turning into white noise except for your own voice and his. Gritting his teeth he looked down at the wound you tried to hide under your hand then back up and around the chaos.

He tried to scream out for help but his voice wasn’t fucking working. 

Your body trembled in his arms and made him gasp, looking back at you again and shaking his head, hand cupping your face upon seeing your eyes growing heavier and that smile growing weaker.

“No goddammit, you’re staying with me, you’re not fucking leaving me - I’ll get help, I’ll save you!”

“Kats,” you breathed out and worked your smile back up, hand taking his own and kissing his cheek, “I’ll never leave you, ever. You’ve already saved me so many t-times, it was my turn to save you baby. I’ll be fine and you’ll be fine, okay?”

Bakugou’s lip trembled, he felt your hold on his hand loosening, his breathing hitched and he shook his head. Warm lips kissed every inch of your face, Bakugou savoring each one, remembering the taste and feel like muscle memory and feeling hot tears rolling down his face.

“I love you so much Katsuki.”

The sound of porcelain cracking made Bakugou come back to his senses and he realized his quirk was starting to act up from being so emotional. Quickly he removed himself from the appliance and strode back into the bedroom, palm rubbing at his head and groaning as he tried to shake off the nightmare but his stupid fucking brain couldn’t let it go. 

The more it played on loop the angrier the blonde became. His palms were starting to steam at the mere thought that you’d be stupid enough to sacrifice yourself for him or that it would even be a single thought in your mind at all. After being together since high school and being married to him, you knew better! 

Soon Bakugou’s emotions were running rampant causing him to yell out and swing an arm, clearing off the top of the dresser of books and figures in a fit of rage. The glass of a stand alone mirror shattered when one figure flew into it. In flashes, the images of you dying in his arms clicked over and over and over, they wouldn’t fucking stop!

Bakugou panted and tugged at his hair, pathetically falling to his knees and screaming, body trembling and chest heaving. 

He grabbed a book that laid beside him and chunked it at the wall opposite to him causing a string of lights that was decorated with polaroids to fall down and tangle, making a few pictures fall from their clips. The blonde looked up to see what the noise was and panicked when he saw what he had done. In an instant he was crawling on his knees to the mess he made, hands grappling at the lights and trying his best to fix it.

“Shit she’s gonna kill me! I’ll never fucking hear the end of it - fucking shit why are these impossible to fucking untangle!”

Truly the task was simple but Bakugou was too unstable at the moment to chill and concentrate. He groaned in frustration and sat back on his calves, trying again until he heard the sound of feet padding across the carpet towards him. Bakugou sighed and shook his head.

“I’m fucking fixing it, don’t get your panties in a wad just yet!” He spoke.

There were no words in response, just arms wrapping around his neck and hugging him close. The tip of your nose pressed to his cheek and you kissed it softly with a smile. Bakugou briefly froze once your hands rubbed at his chest and you were smothering him in tiny kisses to his face and jaw, shushing gently on his skin and making him slowly but surely deflate in your arms.

“Kat calm down, just breathe okay?” 

You whispered on his temple and started to run a hand through his hair and rested your cheek to his own, watching what he was trying to do and softly chuckling. 

“It’s an easy fix you just have to take a fucking chill pill.”

Bakugou scoffed and lightly elbowed you, making you giggle, the sound like music to his ears and making his jaw un-clench. 

The man took a couple deep breaths, listening and focusing on you humming softly in his ear. Even though he had matured since high school and for the most part grew out of his temper, there were still just a few selective things that set Bakugou off like the literal bomb he was and one of those things was your safety and life. 

You both worked together as pro-hero’s, fighting the same fights and taking hard blows for each other, at least you’d try for him but almost always Bakugou was fast and protecting you first and foremost. 

“I’ll be damned if I ever lose you,” he would always say. 

So during these chaotic fits, you were the only one who could calm Bakugou and as prideful as he still was, even he himself would admit to that, not wasting a single heartbeat in saying that he needed you.

After a few moments passed, Bakugou was calm enough to start correctly untangling the lights in his hands. You praised him quietly with kisses and continued to watch him.

“What got you so worked up anyway baby?”

For a small second Bakugou stopped, refusing to let those images flood his mind again and only shook his head with a sigh. 

“Just ... a stupid nightmare.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

After finally getting those dumb lights to cooperate, Bakugou turned his head to look at you, his red eyes smiling as he brought his hand up to cup you cheek and kiss your lips softly. 

He breathed in deeply through his nose, taking in the smell of strawberries from his hand ruffling locks of your hair and making the scent of your shampoo permeate in the air. Pulling away from the kiss, your foreheads pressed together and the man took just a few more seconds to register how soft your hair was between his fingers and how your chest lightly pressed on his back every time you breathed. 

Bakugou turned back around and started to gather the loose polaroid's on the floor to re-clip them to the lights and shrugged when he explained his vivid nightmare back over to you. The entire time you held him, rubbing his chest and playing with his hair, kisses littering his face and neck or your face nuzzling into him.

“Katsuki, no matter what happens to us we’ll always be together, even if it’s not physically, I’ll always and forever be with you. You can be weak, it’s not a crime but don’t go losing your fucking head okay? You’ll be fine and you’ll get through anything, you know why?”

Finishing his task, Bakugou sunk back into you, letting out a breath and grabbing your hands that hung from around his neck. His head fell back onto your chest and he kissed your arm.

“Why?”

You smiled and wrapped around the shaken hero tighter - protectively. Hand running through his spiky locks and fingers massaging at his scalp as you laid your cheek to his temple.

“Because I’m right here baby, always! Anytime things seem too hard to take or like you can’t get through another day - I’ll save you,” you replied softly on the shell of his ear before kissing it. “You’ll be fine Katsu, I’ll never leave you ... I’m here, always.”

Bakugou nodded, his hand squeezing tighter around your own. 

“You’re here,” he breathed out, tension and fear leaving his body.

You hummed in response and smiled when Bakugou turned his head and looked at you. A small smile grew on his own face and he tapped your arms, you released him and let him stand to his feet while picking up the string of lights.

You stood behind him, following as he went to hang it back up on the wall, your quiet words of guidance helping him along the way. When it was done, Bakugou took a step back and scanned over the pictures, the memories of each one replaying in his head, the nightmare now becoming a blur. 

With a yawn the male stretched his arms above his head and rubbed his neck. Your hand could be felt grabbing his opposite wrist and making him turn to look at you.

“Come on Kats, you need some rest.”

Bakugou didn’t object, only followed you into the living room that was connected to the bedroom of the small apartment. Walking over to the couch Bakugou plopped down onto it with a drawn out sigh and his arms opening for you to join him. Once you were laid down, Bakugou turned to hold you close to his chest, now being the one to nuzzle his face in the crook of your neck as his hands touched your cheeks and hair. 

He smiled and kissed your cheek, his mind and body second by second relaxing and starting to power down.

“I love you so much.” He sleepily spoke and squeezed tighter, his eyes lazily looking to the tv that was on and quietly broadcasting the news station.

“Earlier this week the notorious villain, The Reaper, was finally caught after evading hero’s for months now. The city is rejoicing as the man will be brought to justice after the tragedy he caused two weeks ago that resulted in the death of the #2 hero, also known as the sidekick and wife of Katsuki Bakugou …… ”

The sound of the newscaster was slowly drowning out and exhaustion was creeping into Bakugou’s bones, his red eyes growing heavy with a yawn.

“You’re ... still ... here.” He spoke again while hugging a pillow close to his chest before finally drifting back off to sleep.

#bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou x reader #bnha #mha #bnha x reader #mha x reader #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #death #angst #xreader #reader insert #sorry baku #i love you baby

[screamingintosilence]

Any Way for Your Birthday

Songfic writing challenge Day 7

Any Way You Want It - Journey

Very much NSFW

Also now on AO3! xx

“Yes, Juggie! Yes! Don't stop, baby,” her fingers tangled in his dark locks, pulling roughly as she held his face to her chest, her head falling back in ecstasy.

The slight pain just caused more pleasure to streak down his spine, knowing that it was him that was causing her to lose control. He growled against her collarbone before resuming his biting and sucking, leaving a necklace of hickies in his wake.

He pulled his head back enough to take in the image of her in his lap, her lids closed and golden curls falling to her waist where he was gripping her. His hips kept thrusting in time with hers as his free hand reached between them to stroke over her bundle of nerves just the way she liked.

She had looked like this just hours ago when he found her at the club Veronica and Josie had dragged her to. Going to a club definitely wasn't his first choice of ways he wanted to spend his Saturday night, but Archie and Sweet Pea had dragged him out with promises of seeing the blonde from across the hall that he had been crushing on for months now.

The three guys had quite quickly become close knit with the three girls across the hall not long after the girls had moved in, Betty having made a pie to introduce themselves (which Jughead refused to share).

“And how, exactly, do you know that all three of them are going to a club? I know for a fact Betty prefers watching Netflix on Saturdays.”

“And how do you know that, Jones? Stalker much?” Sweet Pea ribbed.

“Because she always comes over to watch something with me when you four are out doing exactly this, Pea Brain. Clubbing.” He waved at the club clothes that his best friends were wearing with mild distaste.

“Ronnie said Betty's birthday starts at midnight and they always take her out for it, no exceptions, even if she protests,” Archie chimed in helpfully, trying to keep the peace like always.

“Ok, but why do I have to go?” Jughead emphasized.

“Well two little chickadees mentioned how a mini Coop has been having a rather hard time lately, and could really use a hand - or more - from her Juggie.” Sweet Pea was grinning like he was the cat that ate the fucking canary.

“Fuck you, you're lying,” Jug sneered out, willing the images of Betty - in bed, naked, and moaning his name as she touched herself - to get out of his head before he had a very obvious problem.

“He's actually not, for once,” Archie choked though his laugh and fierce blushing. “Ronnie was complaining about how often they'd come home to buzzing and very loud calls for ‘Juggie’ and ‘don't stop’. But since she is the only one of them not getting dicked, they can't really tell her to just, not.”

“Fuck,” Jughead ran his hand over his mouth in disbelief. His dream girl was imaging him while getting off. “Fuck… Jesus, fuck.”

“Yeah, you can be doing that later, Romeo. But you need to go get the girl first,” Sweet Pea flicked his forehead, trying to snap his friend out of it.

“Fuck. Ok. Fuck.” He stumbled over his own feet in a hasty retreat to his bedroom to throw on something that would be deemed ‘good enough’ for a club.

30 minutes later found them being led into Veronica Lodge's favorite night club, a sensual and exclusive affair that oozed money and heavy bass beats, after the young Latina assured the bouncer “They are with me.”

He could already make out Betty on the dance floor, getting lost in the music, his eyes seemingly always able to pick her out in a crowd.

“You’ll do,” Veronica said from somewhere on his right before he felt her drag him onto the dance floor to join Josie and Betty as Sweet Pea and Archie followed closely behind.

Betty was facing away from him as they approached, Veronica unsubtly shoving him the direction of the sexy blonde, making waving motions with her hands as if to say ‘get to it.’

Keeping in mind what Archie and Sweets had told him earlier, he felt a confidence he had never really felt before surge through him. She wanted him. She dreamed of him. She touched herself to him. Images of her once again flooded his brain as the rest of his blood flooded farther south.

He reached out his arm to wrap around her taught waist, pulling her ass flush with his erection. He felt her squirm, knowing she probably thought he was another handsy asshole groping her.

Thinking fast he squeezed her waist a little tighter and lowered his head to her ear so she'd hear him over the music. “Hey there, Juliet. Heard you were waiting on your Romeo.” His voice came out slightly hoarse from having her lithe body in his arms.

Tilting her chin up and back so she could finally see that it was him, green eyes locked on blue and he felt her relax into his embrace.

“Juggie,” she breathed out, her hand reaching back to thread her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. Her hips ground back into his, confirming what they all had told him already. She wanted this.

“You came.”

“Anything for you, Betty Cooper.” If his voice could possibly get any huskier, he's sure it would. Her eyelids feel shut as she pulled his face to hers, their lips just brushing in a tease of what they both really wanted.

She pulled back with a small smile. “Just a little longer,” her smokey eyes pleaded with his. “It's my birthday after all.”

“Well, what the birthday girl wants, she shall get.” She shivered in his arms and grinded further into him.

They danced for another hour, practically dry humping on the dance floor. His face was buried in her neck, kissing and nipping at her sensitive skin, her small moans working them both up even more.

For once he didn't care what he looked like, he finally had his ultimate dream girl in his arms, rocking her body with his, wanting him as much as he wanted her. They complimented each other and balanced each other out perfectly.

“Let me take you home, baby. Let me treat you the way you need, the way you deserve,” he growled as he gripped her hips in an almost bruising manner and her head fell back against his shoulder, nodding in assent.

It took them a lot longer to make it to the apartment building, situated a few blocks from the club, due to the constant breaks they took for Jughead to press her against the closets building to devour her mouth and neck, hands wandering in places that was far from appropriate in public spaces.

Their clothes didn't last long once they crossed the threshold of the boys’ apartment. Betty's little black dress was all but torn in half in Jughead’s haste to have her free of it. The same could not be said for his own shirt as a few buttons flew free in Betty's hurry to rid him of the offending article.

“I'll fix it later,” she said between kisses.

“I really don't fucking care, Betts,” he gripped her behind her thighs, hoisting her up as she wrapped her legs around him, the black lace of her bra, garter belt, thigh highs, and underwear teasing him in the best way.

“God, you're so fucking gorgeous. Did my good girl wear this just for me?” He saw her preen at this praise. Interesting.

“Yes,” she purred while rocking herself against him, making him almost drop her. “Bed. Take me to bed. I need you.” He could feel her wetness on his stomach where her core rested against him.

He couldn't move fast enough to his room, tossing her on the bed and enjoying the view of her breasts bouncing with the motion, Betty looking only slightly stunned at the unexpected action.

Her eyes blinked slowly as she rested back on her elbows, one knee bent and showing her body off in the most tantalizing fashion.

“God, baby girl. You look so fucking pretty.”

She let a noise as her hips rocked to and fro, trying to find a little bit of release to his words.

“Does my girl like it when I tell her how good she is?”

She let out a nod before her head dropped back and her hand reached to play with her nipple.

He climbed over her quickly, taking both of her hands in his and pushed them over her head into the mattress.

“You're the birthday girl, baby. Let me worship you.” He nipped her bottom lip to free it from where she was biting down on it. She whimpered in the most delicious manner.

“How?”

“Any way you want it, baby. This is all about you.” She whined and arched her body into his.

“I want to be on top. I want to ride your face,” she admitted.

“Fuck. Yes, baby. Fuck, let me taste you.” Making sure he had a secure grip on her, he flipped them so they were chest to chest with her slight weight on top.

He tapped her bottom, signaling her to crawl up so her core was at his face. He ran his fingers lightly over where her panties sat on her hips, looking up at the vision above him.

“This is what you want? You want me?” He needed the verbal confirmation, the assurance that she had given physically throughout the night needed to be said vocally so he knew for sure.

She sat back on his chest, cognizant to not rest her weight on him. Her fingers stroked through his hair in a loving caress as she bit her bottom lip, looking down at him in complete admiration.

“From the moment I met you, Jug, I knew it'd be you. For months, Juggie, you're all I could think about. And I think…” she paused, unsure.

He brushed his thumb over her hip bone in reassurance, his hand bringing one of her palms to his mouth, kissing over the scars he knew where there from when she had let him in on a part of her past a month ago.

“What, baby? Tell me. I'm right here with you.”

“I think…” she took a deep breath, steadying her nerves. Her fingers laced with his to ground herself. “I think I'm falling in love with you.”

She felt him let out a huge breath, wiggling under her to try and sit up. She scooted down his body so he would have enough room, and once he sat up, he gripped the side of her neck, making sure her eyes stayed locked with his.

“You,” he pulled her in for a kiss, “are everything. I'm right there with you.” Another kiss, his tongue probing into her mouth, the velvet taste of her intoxicating. “And God, I'm falling in love with you too.”

Her smile was blinding and she threw her arms him, lips finding his in blissful passion.

“Happy birthday to me,” he laughed at how cute she was being.

“It might be your birthday, baby girl, but I want to finish my dessert,” he laid back down and tugged at her hips so she'd crawl back to where she had been, situating her pussy over his mouth.

He could smell the heady aroma of her and nuzzled his nose into her lips, relishing in her scent. His tongue swiped one long lick up her slit over the fabric of her panties.

“As delicious and sexy as these are, I want them off,” he growled and reached over to his bedside table for his pocket knife that he kept them.

Her eyes grew wide at the glint of metal, but not in fear. If anything, Jughead saw her pupils grow impossibly larger, nearly blacking out all the green.

“Yes,” dropped from her lips and it was all the consent he needed to cut each side of the barrier between him and his prize flinging both the knife and the scrap of fabric off into the abyss of his room.

His hands gripped her hips, hauling her so her dripping core was flush to his mouth.

The first real taste of her had him groaning and his eyes rolling to the back of his head in ecstasy, the feeling of his tongue on her making her jerk and thread her fingers once more into his hair.

And then began their dance of him trying to hold her steady and she'd buck over him, losing all sense of self in the erotic feeling of his tongue licking, circling, and sucking her clit while the fingers of a free hand insterted one, then two, the three fingers where she needed them most.

He tortured her the smallest bit, bringing her to the brink to back off, letting her come down a little even though she whined and protested. He repeatedly this three more times before giving into her pleas, sucking her juices down as she came all over his face, screaming his name in pure euphoria.

She fell slightly limp above him, supporting herself on her elbows so as to not completely smother him.

“I think you ruined all foods for me, Betts. Even burgers.”

She let out a breathy laugh before pushing herself up enough to wiggle herself down his body until her mouth could meet his.

Tasting herself on him was causing her to get turned on again, recovering far quicker than normal in anticipation of finally getting to experience what it was like to have him inside her.

“I want to ride you. I need you inside me.” His hips bucked at her admission, his tip brushing against her folds making them both moan at the sensation.

“Yes. Ride me, Betty. Whatever you want, I'm here for you. Ride me like the good girl I know you are.”

Her core pulsed at his words. “Yes.”

He pushed them both into a sitting position, a move that caused him to almost slip into her.

“Wait, I need -” he reached out to the side table to grab a condom.

“No,” she put her hand on his arm to stop him. “I'm on birth control. I just want you, all of you, tonight.”

He breathed deeply, his eyes on hers, seeing that she was being sincere. He pulled her in for a kiss.

“Whatever you want, sweetheart.” His hand reached around to unhook her bra, finally freeing her boobs of their confines. He leaned down to quickly suck a nipple between his lips.

She arched against him, lifting onto her knees so he could reach between them and help line himself up with her. She lowered herself onto him, her liquid heat taking him whole, their breaths leaving them as he bottomed out inside of her.

Which is where they were at now.

“Don't stop,” she repeated as her nails raked down his back, his hips thrusting and fingers circling her clit.

“I'm so close, Juggie. I'm so close,” she whimpered.

“Let go, baby.” He resumed sucking one of her nipples, the sensation just what she needed to send her spiraling over the edge, screaming his name at the top of her lungs.

Her pussy was squeezing his cock and he had never felt anything else so mind blowing, he own release quickly following hers as he continued to pump into her until they both were boneless and he pulled her down on top of him as he laid back.

She kept letting out little noises as her body continued to twitch, slowly coming down from the high she'd had been riding.

“You were amazing. God, you felt so amazing, Betts. You've completely ruined me, so just know you'll have to stick with me forever.”

She hummed in contentment.

“That doesn't sound too bad,” she smiled into his chest. “This was officially the best birthday.”

His fingers played along her spine.

“Give me ten minutes and some water, and I'll make it even better,” he dropped kiss into her hair as she giggled.

“Ok,” she snuggled deeper into him, letting her eyes slip closed for a quick power nap before resuming her birthday activities.

#songfic writing challenge 2019 #Riverdaleevents #riverdale kink week #a song to drive to #bughead #write your own smutventure #smut to the nth degree #it's so steamy in here i can't see the door #any way you want it #journey #riverdale #smut #they got very naughty and wanted more than a drabble #my writing #day 7 #paperlesscrown inspires #paperlesscrown

[artsy-dreamer]

Family and Friends August - Touch the Stars

Okay, I know I’m SUPER late to this prompt, and to this event in general... I’ve been wanting to write stuff for it all month, but I haven’t been feeling my best and my brain hasn’t been wanting to cooperate, so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ But I thought I’d finally take a crack at it today! This month I want to write lots of headcanons for my roommates AU, and this was the first prompt to strike inspiration in me ^u^

Okay, so the boys are definitely on vacation in this one- a nice place with little to no light pollution, it’s a nice break from the city

They picked a great time to visit, because one night there’s a meteor shower- they hear it’s a great place to view it because the night sky is amazing here, and there’s some nearby hills that are perfect for just that purpose, so they make plans to pack some bento boxes and mochi for dessert and head up there on the night of the meteor shower

They get there right as the sun is setting, and everyone is excited- Denki brought some extra filming equipment for his vlog, because he wants to get the best shots of the night sky that he can

He also brought some of his favorite books to do dramatic readings of to pass the time until the show starts, and some konpeito- he loved Hamtaro as a kid, and this whole meteor shower thing reminded him of one of his favorite episodes, Diamonds of Sugar

(he definitely rewatched it earlier that day and got super nostalgic)

They all enjoy a late supper and the lovely sunset on a big comfy blanket, and Denki does some intermittent phone vlogging in between dessert, setting up the camera, and hamming it up while reading to Shinsou and Ojiro

They take a few pics here and there when the first few stars come out, but nothing could have prepared them for how stunning the sky looks once they’re all out- they’re so used to the sparse view of the city sky, their minds are completely blown by how it looks without light pollution

Denki is so caught up in reading that he doesn’t even notice at first, but when his friends tell him to look up at the sky, the book goes tumbling to the ground

He’s completely and utterly awestruck, and he can’t contain his sheer excitement

He scrambles to turn on the camera, and from then on most of the vlog consists of him shouting gleefully

“OH MY GOSH!!! OH MY GOSH!!!!!! GUYS IT’S JUST LIKE IN THE PICTURES ONLY BETTER!!!!! I CAN’T BELIEVE IT AAAAAAAA-”

His sunshiny smile is almost as bright as the stars themselves as he gazes up at the sky with childlike wonder, and he finds himself reaching up, feeling almost like he’s close enough to touch the stars

Of course, he knows he can’t actually do that, but it doesn’t stop him from jumping up on Ojiro’s back so he can get even closer to the sky

(he’s really caught up in the moment ok XD )

After the initial surprise, Ojiro can’t help but laugh right along with Denki- his happiness is super contagious

Even Shinsou isn’t immune- he smiles warmly at his friends, and he makes sure to get this moment on camera, because seeing them so happy is just as beautiful a sight as the night sky itself, if not more so

Seeing Denki reaching for the sky while riding piggyback reminds him of a scene from the episode they were watching earlier that day, and it gives him an idea

He grabs a handful of konpeito and throws them into the air, so they can “catch” some stars just like the Ham-Hams tried to in the episode

The hills are filled with the sound of joyful giggling as the boys playfully grab for the candy

So I guess you could say that technically, Denki kinda did get to touch the stars XD

They laugh and laugh until they’re tired out, and they spend the rest of the evening eating konpeito on their comfy blanket and taking plenty of pics of all the shooting stars

Denki takes lots of selfies with the night sky as the background, using various space-themed filters

And he definitely takes a selfie with him holding a glass up to the sky... there was no way he was gonna pass up the opportunity to make a Milky Way pun XD

They all end up snuggling up to each other as it gets colder, and Ojiro wraps his tail around Shinsou and Denki

There’s no doubt about it... this vacation is definitely going down in the records as one of their all-time favorite memories

#faf august #bnha #my hero academia #denki kaminari #mashirao ojiro #hitoshi shinsou #brotp #roommates au #candy that pep talk was just what I needed thank you 💕💕 #I didn’t think I’d be able to push through all this but I’m so glad I did #I had so much fun finally writing down all this fluff 😊💕 #yes it’s mostly just denki being adorable... no I’m not sorry XD #man I haven’t watched diamonds of sugar in years... #this makes me wanna watch it again #that ep was so cute omg

[thorne93]

Unforeseen Chasm (Part 14)

Prompt: Two sisters fall for men that are absolute enemies. The love they have could tear all of them apart, or it could bring them together.

Word Count:3148

Warnings: Language, violence/gore

Song: Don’t Blame Me - Taylor Swift

Note: This is by far the longest thing I’ve ever written (including my novels). It’s a collaboration with the amazing @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo. It started as a funny “What if…?” and it evolved and got huge. This took two years to write. We are both proud and happy and we hope you enjoy it. It follows from Thor 1 to Endgame in the MCU. Some of the timelines may be off in order to fit certain people, and some characters may show up earlier or in different ways than they have in the movie. But for the most part, it follows the MCU. It also has a bit of crossover with some other Marvel characters throughout the story.

Masterlist for Unforeseen Chasm

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Shannon finally started to stir, it’s a wonder it took her this long, being bound to a chair with heavy log chains. You stood several feet in front of her, your feet crossed at the ankles as you leaned against a workbench in a huge, empty warehouse. 

“Hi there,” you greeted as she woke.  

In a groggy tone, she lifted her head to examine her surroundings and asked, “Wha--Where am I?”

“I’ll tell you exactly where we are when you do something I ask.”

She frowned at you, entirely confused. “What? Y/N, why am I in chains? What the hell is going on?”

“All I need is some help from you and I’ll let you go, I promise,” you vowed in a hopeful voice.

“Why the fuck am I chained up in the first place?” she demanded, her eyes erratic as she looked around. She was probably looking for an exit. 

“I know how you get when you panic, and your powers can make you uncontrollable, I didn’t want that to happen,” you said as you eyed a table of tools… well, torture devices. 

“Oh, yeah, and chaining me was a real award winning idea to keep me calm,” she argued, straining against the chains.

“Shannon, I won’t hurt you so long as you cooperate,” you informed her, completely honest. 

“Well what do you want?” she asked, slightly curious.

“I need you to call Dr. Banner and get him here, that’s all. A simple request,” you stated.

Her frown deepened. “What? Why?”

“It’s best you don’t know why. Simply call him, and get him here and you’ll have your freedom.”

“And what will you do once he gets here?” she questioned.

“That’s not for you to worry about,” you told her as you played with the tools on the table. 

“It is if I’m telling my friend to come here. Y/N, what is going on? Are you in some kind of trouble?”

“Not yet,” you said nearly inaudibly. “But I will be if you don’t give me what I want!” you stated, your voice raising to a shout. 

“No, no, something is wrong. I won’t help you get Bruce. Just tell me what's going on,” she demanded in a gentle voice. 

“I can’t,” you said, letting more pain show than you intended. Memories flickered in your head of the reminder if you failed this mission or told Shannon or Tony about the plan. Painful, awful memories. 

“Can’t or won’t?” she challenged in an angered voice.

Your eyes simply slid toward her, darkness and sorrow filling your gaze. 

“Oh, I get it. Y/N/N, what the hell happened to you? Why are you doing this?”

“Because I have to,” you said softly. 

“No, you don’t. Whatever you’ve gotten into, Tony and I can get you out. We can help,” she begged. 

A callous laughed escaped you as you threw your head back. “Help me? Wow, that’s rich. You finally decide to help me? After all these years of making sure you got ahead--”

“What are you talking about?” she questioned, baffled.

“Don’t play dumb with me!” you shouted, stepping toward her. “Your parents sent you off to that fancy ass academy. And Howard Stark decided to give you a full ride anywhere you wanted, all to help his precious son. Who, lets not forget, you pined after. You caught every break in the book. Unlike you I had to work for everything!” you snarled. 

“So did I!” she shot back. “None of it was handed to me! I graduated top of my class from the Red Room.”

“Oh, you must be so proud, being the top assassin. I’m sure that’s real good dinner talk,” you mocked.

“I am proud, do you know why? I fight for countries’ freedoms. I eliminate threats. I learned skills and trades that are hard to master.”

“You can tell yourself that if it makes you sleep better at night. But we both know you’ve spilled a hell of a lot of blood.” 

“Just doing my job.”

“And your job comes so easy, doesn’t it?” you ridiculed. 

“The hell is wrong with you? What, Asgard didn’t make you happy so you decided to come back and try and make me feel bad about my life? Yes, I got some nice opportunities, but as I remember it, you got a scholarship to a school and you aced everything. You got to do what you love. Tony asked you to come work for Stark Industries for years, and you said no. That’s no one’s fault but your own, so don’t blame us!”

“I said no because he asked out of pity!” you replied angrily. “I don’t need pity. I want what’s rightfully mine. I deserve to be a partner at his company, not some lowly lab assistant.” 

“You and I both know that's not true! He asked you countless times to join because of your accomplishments.” She scowled. “For fucks sake, Y/N, you’ve got more brains than this! He would have gladly given you any position, said so himself when you kept telling him no that he wanted you as a bigger asset than some assistant like I was.”

“It doesn't matter, it's in the past. Just like everything else. I lived in your shadow for years. Men fell at your feet, you won the Nobel Prize for research I recommended, you got every job offer handed to you. But you don’t remember any of that, do you? No, of course. But I remember how every time your name and my name was on a list, who was the one that got picked?” you demanded with venom, staring her down.

A look of guilt shadowed her face. 

“Yeah, that’s what I remember too,” you quietly said, straightening and turning around. “If you really want to help me, if you really want to make up for all the wrong that transpired between us, you’ll call Bruce.” You walked over and placed the phone in her lap. “As soon as you agree to call him, I’ll take the chains off.”

She peered up at you. 

“All that time on Asgard really messed with your head, didn’t it?” she rhetorically asked, an air of disdain in her tone. “It’s probably because you’ve been spending all that time with Loki. Should’ve known he was bad. He tried to kill Thor because he had Daddy issues,” she snarked with an eyeroll. 

Your eyes flashed to her, gleaming with darkness. 

In a low tone, you warned, “Don’t you dare speak ill of Loki, ever.”

“What are you gonna do? Smite me?” She smirked a bit. 

“I'll do whatever I need to for my love,” you promised in a firm voice, your knuckles turning white.  

“We both know you won’t hurt me, you’ve always clung to me like a baby lost without a clue where to go.” She raised her head up. “And do you really think that a once Asgardian turned mortal who's recently discovered who she is is enough for him?” She knew she was pushing it because she needed time to free herself of the chain around her wrists. “If it weren’t for me Jane never would have had access to your research files.” She seethed, her eyes had begun to change from their chocolate brown to a milky white and along with it the weather outside.

You narrowed your eyes as you noticed the change in atmosphere. “Go for it. Use your powers. You won’t like what happens next,” you dared her.

Her brow furrowed as concerned came onto her face. “What the hell happened to you? We used to be like sisters. And now you’re… You were never like this,” she said, confusion and desperation coloring her voice. 

“You’re right. I’ve changed. I’ve been shown the light. I’ve been shown how you robbed me of the life I deserve.” You picked up a handgun lying on the table and aimed it at her. “Give me the number to call Banner.” 

“You wouldn’t shoot me,” she said nonchalantly. “Besides he turned off his phone. I don't have a way to contact him.”

“Bullshit! Don't lie to me.” You moved the gun slightly to the left, and fired. The bullet grazed her arm but she cried out. “Next one won’t miss,” you promised. You walked over to her, took the phone, and lifted it up. “Give me the number.” 

She sighed and looked at you, reciting the number. As soon as it began to ring, you placed it between her ear and shoulder. 

“Hey, it’s me. I was wondering if we could meet up and talk about a few things for the new research?” she said looking at you waiting for the  name of the location. “Yeah, do you have a paper to write the address?” She recited the address you had written down. “Don’t forget your umbrella, it’s about to storm outside, see you in a few. Bye.” She ended the call you were unaware that she had actually told the person on the phone that she was in trouble. 

———-

Shannon’s POV

Y/N was completely unaware that the number I had recited to her was Tony’s and that “about to storm outside” is code for “come get me, I’m in trouble”. There was no way in hell I would give up Bruce’s location. I do know where he is but she doesn’t. 

I don’t know what's happened to her but she’s not the Y/N I thought I knew all those years ago. I just hope to get her back and end everything that comes with it without losing her. 

I could have easily gotten out of these chains but I stayed to find out what’s gotten to her. And if there’s anyway I can get her out of it. 

———————-

“There, I called him now let me go! You said you would.” She pointed to the chains around her body and legs. “Y/N, why are you doing this? Is Loki forcing you?” 

You laughed again. “Forcing me? Sweetie, he’s freed me. He’s helped me see the side of me I never knew existed.”

“Maybe he shouldn’t have,” she mumbled. “What went wrong? I thought Asgard was good for you? For two months I got letters about how great it was and all this progress you were making. Then one day you just stopped answering me. Was that Loki? Did he turn you against me?”

“No,” you answered in a solemn tone. “No, that wasn’t Loki. I… I stopped replying because I wasn’t in Asgard.”

A charge filled the air as she stared at you, her eyes narrowing.

“What do you mean?”

“I was in Asgard for those first two months but then….”

“Then what?” she questioned, urging you to keep talking. Her voice was soft and full of concern. 

Your eyes finally came up to meet hers. “Then Thor destroyed the Rainbow bridge and the Bifrost, which caused Loki to… well he was hanging on the edge of Odin’s staff. When Odin disapproved of Loki’s actions with Thor and trying to destroy Jotunheim, Loki let go. Without thinking, I jumped after him,” you explained simply, toying with your hands slightly. 

“What? Why? Why would you do that? You tried to kill yourself for him? What kind of asshole--”

“Watch it,” you warned again, your anger returning. “He didn’t ask me to jump. He was just as upset that I jumped as you or anyone else would be.” 

Quietnes flowed between you two for a moment. 

“I don’t know why I jumped,” you continued. “Just seeing him, seeing him falling, alone, so broken...I couldn’t help but feel so sorry for him. Not to mention, I couldn’t see a life without him in it at that point. I was in love with him and we found comfort in each others company. We both knew what it was like to be overlooked, forgotten, taken for granted.” Your eyes drifted to her, a look of pain tinging your eyes. 

“Y/N, you know I never did those things intentionally. I can’t help what other people did or said,” she tried. “I never took you for granted. I helped you all the time. I tried to get you in any job or door I could. I accepted you into my family as my own sister. Or did Loki make you forget all of that?” 

“I only remember being rejected for jobs, or grants, meanwhile you’re standing on stage winning a Nobel Prize that I gave the idea to,” you reminded darkly in a soft tone. 

“And I gave you credit and grant money!” she retorted. 

“Consolation prizes, how sweet,” you mocked with a smirk before turning around to look at the tools you no longer needed. 

“I thought you said you would let me go if I called Bruce. I called him, I’m still chained.”

You sighed. “Not until he shows up. For all I know we just called a pizza joint. As soon as Bruce arrives, you’ll have your freedom.” 

“That may come sooner than you like,” she muttered.

You frowned at her words, but then you heard it -- the hydraulics on Tony’s suit.

A smile flashed onto your face. 

“Oh this should be good,” you stated wickedly. Your gaze danced over to Shannon. “So… you called Tony, and not Bruce. That’s good… really good.. ” You grabbed a throwing star and threw it at her, lodging it in her arm. “Except now you’ve pissed me off!” You marched towards her, and grabbed her hair, yanking it back and screaming at her. “It was simple! Call the doctor and get him here! But I suppose Stark will do.” You looked up to the tall ceiling of the warehouse, waiting for him to make his move. 

Then the noise came. That clank of his metal on the concrete floor.

“Ah, come to save the day, Stark?” you asked as you turned toward the noise. 

“Just let her go, Y/N/N. Whatever you want, whatever you need, I’m sure we can come to some conclusion about,” he tried as he walked in, already in suit, his mask off. 

“Call Banner, get him here,” you said simply. 

“What do you want Banner for? Why him?” 

“Leave that to me,” you stated with a shrug. 

“Yeah, see I don’t like handing over potential atomic bombs to people we haven’t heard from in over a year. Where you been anyway?”

“Why the fuck do you care where I’ve been?” you questioned incredulously.

“What do you mean? We cared for you! Shannon cried herself to sleep for months thinking you were dead! You abandoned her to run off and go play Mythology!” he informed, his voice raised.

“I found out I was a goddess! That’s not going off and playing anything.”

“Then what are you doing back here on Earth, playing Assassins Creed--” he gestured to your outfit “-- and demanding to see Bruce, huh? What is this? What’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing but my will to conquer this puny waste of a planet.”

Tony’s eyes slightly narrowed as he cocked his head. “What the hell does that even mean?” 

“It means by the end of this, you’ll wish you’d sent Banner.”

Tony’s eyes flashed to Shannon, who was bleeding from both her arms and visibly tired. Tony could be a calm man, but he wasn’t exactly patient or forgiving when someone he loved had been hurt.

“I don't do well with threats sooo…” Tony drug out his last word. 

“So that's a no?” you asked, making your way over to Shannon, making her nervous. 

“Emphatic no.” 

“I'm sorry to hear you won't be cooperating. You should start to learn that we don't negotiate.”

In the blink of an eye, you manifested a dagger, hoisted it high in the air, and brought it back down into Shannon’s upper thigh, hard. She screamed out in agony.  

“Not a good idea,” he said before shooting a repulsor beam at you. The energy propelled you back against the concrete wall. It didn’t hurt, unsurprisingly. But it did knock the wind out of you as you laid on the floor. 

Tony tried to make quick work of the chains but you stood up and threw a dagger at him, it grazed his neck. 

“Bring me Banner,” you demanded.

“I think it’s time you sat in time out.” With that, he shot at you again, slamming you back into the wall. You pushed back into it, only for him to double his force. Meanwhile his other part of the suit used a laser to cut the chains. They fell around Shannon as she tried to stand. 

He was about to make your entire mission mean nothing. He was about to be the reason you failed, and you couldn’t have that. 

“No!” you shouted as you launched off the wall and nearly flew at Stark, colliding with his suit. You two landed on the floor, with you on top of him. You reeled your arm back and hit him while he was still slightly dazed that you were even able to knock him off his footing. You only got one punch in before he doubled his own fist and hit you. The iron sliced against your face and you winced. He did it again and you got the message to get off him. You stood up and stumbled back, preparing yourself for further fighting. 

“I don’t wanna hurt you, Y/N/N. You know that. End this right now and we’ll forget the whole thing,” Tony tried.

“It won’t be me that gets hurt,” you responded darkly as you moved your body to the momentum to swing and kick him in the face with your foot. As soon as he recovered from the blow, he suited entirely up, his mask on, and fired at you again. Deep purple energy clouded around you as you deflected the shots easily, but you hadn’t anticipated the next thing that happened.

A knife, the same knife you’d plunged into Shannon, came soaring at you, but you didn’t see it until the last second, and it hit your stomach. You gasped and stepped back, holding the knife. Tony took the advantage and hit you with everything he had, slamming you hard into the wall, causing it to crater under your form. 

Tony backed up, put his arm around Shannon-- while still blasting you, and took off. The two of them propelled through the roof of the warehouse.

Quiet rage stewed inside you as you clenched your fists and stared up after them. Suddenly a wetness hit your cheek. You reached up and touched it. Upon first inspection it might’ve been a raindrop but no, you could smell the saltiness. Shannon was crying as she chanced a glance down at you. 

Against your will, saltiness of your own formed and hit the warehouse floor. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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