#salutations column

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPxDC. Talon Dick. Part 2 of Danny Fenton is a new master of The Court of Owls

~Hail, Emperor, those who are about to die salute you~

Danny was terrified when he got the body of Talon in his morgue. The Court of Owls was notorious for leaving no trace after work. But Talon, a young man only a few years older than him, did not look like a mindless killing machine at all. Of course, the first time he had a couple of stab wounds from his new acquaintance but after numerous assurances that his help would remain their little secret and that he would not inform his superiors that he had fucked up on the mission, Talon began to trust him a little. as one dead boy to another. In a few months, most of the Talons come to him for first aid, and of course he got attached to the guys. After all, Gotham is not Amity Park and without the other dead ones around Phantom felt a little lonely. It was nice to give these poor people a few quiet minutes. Danny’s assistant has warned him many times not to mess with the Court of Owls, but Danny are Phantom and from the first time he met one of them he was planning to lose his temper and beat the boys' bosses to free them.

Fenton was not prepared to lead the Court of Owls. Even if Danny got his education as a villain he never thought he’d work according to his profession. But leave a whole den? nest? of creatures turned into weapons he could not. Of course, the best choice after defeating the leaders of the Court would be to destroy the entire organization. But Danny couldn’t do that.

Talons were killers, means of intimidation, even if not of their own volition. They will be killed (again) or sent to prison for the rest of their lives. Talons needed safety and a good therapist, not all of this. Danny’s scared, and he doesn’t know how to take care of them, but the others won’t do it. People are afraid of everything different. They won’t care that these dead are just victims, they’ll only see monsters. He could be half-human, but now he has to think like a full ghost. Talons are dead like him. And they have been dehumanized, tortured, used. People can be cruel. To do the right thing, he has to protect them.

It was difficult for Danny to identify likes and dislikes of his new friends because they always had the same facial expression and were taught that they had no feelings. Bullshit. Danny’s parents also think ghosts have no emotions, but they just have wrong theories and do not manipulate them to make ghosts think the same. Well, maybe it’s because they don’t think ghosts can think at all, but still! So, Danny know that number three loves strawberry jam, and number five always steals some of his cereal, and number 11 always gets closer to the music column to enjoy the sound. And he also know that the Talons weren’t fully fed in their organization because they definitely have problems with their digestive system, and he is going to fix it. Vlad said that he had trouble taking human food for only a few months after the portal accident, and some of the Talons were dead for years and still use injecting nutrient solutions. When a Dead Man can’t have a couple of spoons of treats, well, that’s a crime.

He needs to find a way to consult with Frostbite and conduct a full-fledged health diagnostics for his 'minions'. And he needs to settle the paperwork so guys have a legitimate reason to live in the Infinite Realms.

~~~~~ Danny: Hey Jazz, I’m in trouble. When can you come to Gotham? This time I don’t mind hearing a little advice.

~~~~~

Even though Dr Fenton smelled like death and blood all the time, the smell was different. And this difference was enough that something dead inside them swore allegiance to this Owl at their will. Not that they had it, of course. Weapons don’t have free will. But at least pretending to be able to choose is nice.

The new Master was weird, but in a good way. Not that this Talon know more about what is good than any other Talon. Ah, Di- Talon had a headache. Anyway, serving him is right. They all feel it..And feelings matter!! Well, they are not supposed to have them too but… looks like the young owl didn’t mind.

Master was not angry at how Talon № 4 frowned when the master had to pull a bullet out of his shoulder, and he missed Talon's sweet laughter when it saw the battle of Signal and Spice King on TV. The only times he raised his voice to them were when they were trying to threaten people near the master. Looks like this owl wanted to instill fear on his own. Strange. Usually there was always an enemy of the court who had to be hunted down and destroyed.

~~~~~

Danny: See, when you kill people, you do not make it easy for me. First, I will need to examine the bodies and write the report of their death. Second, if their souls remain restless, they will become my problem again. No more trying to get the cashier to have a heart attack. He said they ran out of the product I needed, not that he’s cursing my family for the next millennium. No one wants to see any more angry ghosts in Gotham. Me after a 24-hour shift is enough, okay?

Talons were alarmed. So far the master had shown no signs that he might want to completely break one of the weapons. But what if this owl is planning on punishing them for all their mistakes at once when he’s really angry?

Talon is not supposed to show initiative or empathy. But Talon 12, who suffered an injury in the course of a mission with old owls, has not yet recovered. They inadvertently hid it when the leadership changed. 12 has not yet met Doctor Fenton, and they do not know whether the privileges of medical care are retained now when they belong to him. So far, the Master has been rather careless about their movements and a few of them have slipped away for a while to check on a fellow. They didn’t lie if they weren’t asked about another weapon, right? They shouldn’t be punished too severely when the Owl finds out. Talons were hoping that Doctor Fenton, who was not in a hurry to look at the document of the court, would allow them not to write off the damaged thing. № 12 was an old and experienced weapon and could train beginners even if it has only one hand now.

Well, that was the plan. Talons allowed themselves to become too careless. Terrible mistake. Even the Owl that is usually nice to them remains dangerous. They need to find a way to satisfy their young master. Young Owls always have anger issues, not that Talons can judge.

The youngest Talon shared information that he sometimes had flashbacks of a working red bird who always had a murderous expression until he got to the coffee pot fluid. And it's non-Talon past was never afraid of this bird. The chick could always be calmed with this dark liquid. Coffee is something that will return the master to the favorable mood!

Talons rejoiced at this remarkable discovery and decided to send one of them on a mission as soon as possible to get rid of the potential danger.

~~~~

Danny: Thanks for the coffee, man. Hey, you also took another drink, judging by the dollars in the check. I'm so proud of you! How it was? Good?

Talon thought for a second and nodded. Yes, it was good. He didn’t drink the drink himself but when a coffee shop employee wrote down his order with a trembling hand, a boy appeared in the door.

This boy, now almost a young man, he was from his memories. Another coffee was automatically added to the order.

On his way out, Talon walked up to the sleeping chick and gave a cup to him. Even without opening his eyes, the bat’s cub sniffed and sucked the drink. Dick chirped with delight and patted boy's head, ignoring the frozen people.

That's a true magic drink which is commanding the minds of the powerful of this world. Yes, it will help them for sure!

~~~~

Danny: See, Jazz, Dick’s making progress! He went to the coffee shop today. That’s great, isn’t it?

Jazz: First, don’t call him that, we’re still not sure that’s his name and not the way Owls used to insult him.

Danny: Hey, the fact that he hissed when you called him Richard proves nothing. I don’t like being called Daniel either, or, over my dead body, Dan. I have to call him something. They’re all Talons. What are your suggestions? Jazz: We’ll talk about this later. Now back to the coffee question. Danny, did you forget anything when you let Talon go for a walk? Danny: Which one? Jazz: Don’t play dumb! Did you open the news headlines today or not? This is serious! Danny: What? Shit...civilian clothes. I didn’t think he’d wear a combat suit for it. Jazz: Didn’t you give them outfits for everyday use? Danny: Yeah, I did! But they still wear their Halloween outfits. All the time. Look, it’s not my fault they take everything I say as an order. When I asked them to make the tea and our teapot broke, they broke into some guy’s house and stole it. Jazz: Which guy? Did you at least apologize? Danny: One of Hood’s goons. I’m pretty sure he’s already met Dick on patrol, 'cause the first thing he did called Jason and start crying about being followed. Lucky for him Red was at my house that night and went to calm goon down. But I swear to you, Dick was a little shit on purpose. Of all the apartments choose his? Nah, such coincidences do not exist.

Jazz: I could be happy that he’s getting more independent in his decision making but now I feel like I have to offer the poor guy a discount therapy course.

Damian: Drake, we need to talk. I know about your investigation. You suspect one of the Talons is our missing Grayson. I’m willing to provide some evidence in exchange for… Tim: I don’t suspect, I know that. Damian: What? Where from? Tim: Well, the quadruple somersault was a good hint. And the fact that the Red Hood ran from him through the streets screaming that he wouldn’t take lunch from a damn golden child is also a tip. Damian:...Not a word to my father until we know more, right? I don’t want my older brother thrown in Arkham. Tim: Agree. It’s not like he doesn’t have a memory problem. He wouldn’t have made Alfred worried if leaving was his choice. We need more information.

Meanwhile in Gotham, Alfred aka the only one batfam member with more than one functioning brain cell *on his way to his first grandson and future husband of his sweet angel Jason*.

Danny: Jazz, we need to clean this house right now. Jazz: Since when do you start spring cleaning? Danny: I don’t know how to explain, it’s not a ghost sense, it’s more an unexplained sense of danger. Where’s the vacuum cleaner?

~~~~~

Talon №5 stood in the knitting shop in thought. What color would the little mistress prefer? It should remain useful even if the Owl does not give them direct orders. Knitting a cute sweater for mistress Dani would be a good start. Yeah, that color’s gonna be perfect. And maybe it should stop holding those needles like a weapon, it makes the cashier nervous, and he wants to pay without saving a civilian from losing consciousness.

~~~~~

Danny became a little alarmed when Talon threw himself at the old man standing on the porch. To his surprise, the Briton readily embraced the bird, and Dick let him. Talons who stood behind Danny happily chirped. Making their youngest member happy things always meant something good.

Alfred: Gentlemen, good afternoon. I guess I should thank you all for taking care of my dear grandson. Would you let me come in for a cup of tea?

#dpxdc prompt #dpxdc crossover #dpxdc #dcxdp #dpxdc au #talon dick grayson

[lokisgoodgirl]

Sticks and Stones: The Lakes [Loki x Reader]

The Lakes Masterlist / Regular Masterlist Summary: (2) Resolved to make an effort, Loki tries his best. But old habits die hard, some harder than others. Warnings: Minors DNI. Language. Ex-Loki. Smut references/ Wankst. Humour/Mild angst. (w/c 4.8k) Recommended Folklore Track: Mirrorball

“Oh blast it all,” Thor wailed like a child, throwing a pile of sticks to the side. Another bundle of promising kindle had turned to mush in his hands.

“We need to find ones that aren’t wet, Odinson – I told you. Sometimes they don’t seem wet, but they are wet.” Steve instructed, standing abruptly from where he’d sat on his haunches. Dismay was thick in the air. “Everything is wet here, Rogers." Thor whinged, kicking leaves. "The allusive flame taunts me.”

Loki sucked in his cheeks. The urge to expel a witty innuendo was almost unbearable. But he was trying to be amenable. Turning over a new leaf, as it were.

When the four of them had trudged back to the cottage last night, Loki had turned in to his sparse lodgings immediately with only the most cursory of bedtime salutations. To his surprise, sleep had descended quickly. He had been expecting to toss and turn for hours on that thin single bed, cursing Rogers and his brother and you; each with the time and thoroughness that was due. But he had slept well. And when he woke, the smell of bacon wafting through the floorboards greeted him.

Your laughter chimed against the clatter of porcelain downstairs, his brothers following suit. He had snuggled deeper into the lumpy pillow, inhaling in the way he used to against your hair. And now, beneath a canopy of green and gold autumnal majesty, they had made camp for this morning’s torture; fire-building. Loki buried his hands in another damp pile of foliage, grasping a hunk of twigs he found there. To hel with it, he thought as he closed his eyes; feeling secretive warmth spreading from his fingertips. Magic wrapped around each stick of wood concealed beneath copper leaves, drying it instantly. He glanced over to you, thrumming some moss between your fingers. “I found some dry ones,” he said nonchalantly, hoping it sounded believable.

You peered at his outstretched hands. “Oh yeah…” you replied. Loki frowned as your attention swung back to the wisped moss being pulled apart in your fingertips. “Well, let’s get this show on the road.” Thor looked over at his brother, aghast. “Cheater,” he rumbled loudly. To his side, only Steve’s ass was visible, shaking side to side as he still searched on his hands and knees through the undergrowth for where dry wood might lurk. Loki turned, one palm facing up. A column of ferocious flame burst from his skin, funnelling up like a portal. The sound of its violence ripped the air, squawks of local wildlife jibbering in the trees above. Steve lost his balance, falling to the side into the shrubbery. He let out a strangled cry, while Thor scooted backwards and knocked him further into the bushes.

“If I wanted to cheat,” Loki snarled, “there would be much easier ways to do so, brother.”

As quickly as it appeared, the flame ceased.

Loki turned back to you, smoothing his anorak. “Sorry about that,” he quipped with a cheerful smile.

In the time it had taken to complete his theatrics, you had selected one of his pile which you deemed suitable. You turned it over in your hands, fingers curled around the trunk of the weighty stick. Loki swallowed thickly. The innocently sensual glint in your eyes as you looked at it was almost too much to bear. Or maybe it was his imagination.

You hadn’t raised a smile all day, after all. He knelt on his haunches, mirroring your intrigue while you ran a finger down the larger stick. “We need to whittle a groove down here” you said. Loki nodded, moving his eyes between the line your digit took and your face.

Your eyes met.

He saw your gaze drop to his lips, only for a millisecond. “Could you?” you whispered, avoiding eye contact again.

In a flash of green, Loki produced a short dagger. He held it to you, handle first.

“I mean really we should use the one in your pack,” you smirked, eyeing Steve brushing sodden leaves from his ass as Thor fumbled fruitlessly in the undergrowth in a last ditch attempt. Loki felt his heart pound faster. He saw his chance. “But mine is better, Agent” he murmured darkly. “You know that.” “Guys – come over, please!” you shouted over his shoulder. Loki flinched. Truly, she now immune from my overtures, he mused bitterly; remembering the times a line like that would have had you groaning in his ear like a harlot.

He smoothed a rakish curl back from his forehead, collecting himself while his brother and the captain gathered round. Thor was muttering Asgardian curses under his breath, his hair wild. Twigs stuck out at obscure angles, a small slug clinging to the scruff of his jawline. Loki peeled it off, flicking it away.

“I think not that I was made for nature, brother,” Thor lamented under his breath. Loki chuckled, cut short as his dagger, poised in your hand, began to cut away at the centre of the large stick. There was a sharp intake of breath beside him. “That’s not standard issue,” Steve chided quietly, lips hardening. Loki folded his arms, elbowing Rogers in the process. “Watch what I’m doing,” you said sternly, eyeing the men with suspicion. They stood in rapt attention, watching every rut of the blade, every splinter and chunk which sprung forth. But not Loki.

Loki watched your face. Each furrow of your brow, flick of concentration, ghost of a smile as you looked with satisfaction at the result. “Perfect,” you murmured to yourself, running a cautious fingertip through the rough groove. “Now what?” Thor grunted. “Tis still a damnable stick.” You laughed the sweetest, most condescending laugh that Loki had ever heard.

It made his heart twist in his chest. “Now...you each take one of these” you handed each of them a smaller stick from Loki's haul. Loki’s was the longest.

A smirk curled the corners of his mouth against his better judgement. You rolled your eyes, snatching it back and switching it with Steve. “Sharpen these, so they are at a 45 degree angled point. Remember your angles from yesterday, Thor?” Thor frowned. You made the angle with your forearm. “Ah, yes” he smiled. “The little mountain.” For the next few minutes, Loki felt your appraising stare fall on him in intervals. He crafted his edge to perfection, sliding the dagger’s blade so close to the wood’s bark it almost shone. The rough hacking of the other men’s pocketknives peppered the air. Aside from that, and birdsong, there was silence.

When all of them had finished, you called them back around a small, cleared patch of forest floor. The branch with the groove you had made lay on the ground. The three men stared at it, sharpened sticks in hand. Suddenly it all felt very...human. They glanced at each other vacantly. “Loki?” you chirped, gesturing to the ground. He raised an eyebrow.

“On my knees?” he heard himself purr, the feigned incredulity palpable. You nodded sternly, just once.

“Very well,” he murmured, sinking down.

His knees hit the leaves with a crisp, gentle thump.

Immediately, wetness began to seep into the fabric. Like the gusset of her underwear, he mulled. He looked up at you the way he used to while you would have him kiss up your thighs, yanking his hair as he atoned for some imagined grave misdeed with sexual favour. The essence of his vulnerability. A rarity, only for you. He was such a slut for you, back then. Anything you desired. Anything he desired- “Loki?!” you snapped. He had been staring at your chest, eyes glazed. Carefully, he tilted his chin upwards. “Apologies,” he husked. The swallow which bobbed in your throat made his loins ache. Your voice was high. Higher than she intends, surely; he thought.

“Kind of...position it so the big stick with the groove is between your knees-” you’d said.

Loki shuffled, straddling the branch. It brushed the bulge of his cock pulsing lightly against his trousers. “Between my thighs, you say?” he asked innocently. “No, your knees. Well – thighs, sort of yes. Just keep it steady.” You were becoming flustered, Loki noticed. Loki liked that.

You bent down slightly, touching the hard round of his bicep before recoiling like it was a hot stove. “You um...hold the stick like this, no...like-”

Kneeling beside him, you adjusted the angle of his hands to grip the smaller, pointed stick. “That’s it...and then you rub it back and-” you swallowed, “-back and forth. On the one between your thighs. Knees.” Loki bit his lip, beginning to do just that. The sound was awful as his pace quickened after the first few strokes. Scraping, raw squeals that jarred the air.

“Like this?” he panted. A mist of sweat was forming at his hairline. He could feel it tingle.

“Like that,” you replied shakily. Your breaths were short. They were in time with the thrust of his arms as you hovered by his shoulder, guiding his wrist as it pumped back and forth. Thor and Steve glanced silently at each other, brows raised.

Loki saw Thor’s jaw drop from the corner of his eye, a meaty finger protruding from one straightened arm to the smoke beginning to waft from the groove. “Look, Rogers…” he gasped with the wonder of a child. The smoke became thicker, billowing in heavy flow. You fumbled to the side, grabbing some tufts of dried moss.

“Now tip it in, tip the ash in-” you said frantically, barely contained excitement in your voice. Loki complied, watching as the smouldering embers blossomed within the web of moss.

“Be careful,” he whispered, setting the stick in his hands down. He brought them up protectively around the moss. You held it forward, “blow, Loki” you murmured, keeping your eyes fixed on the small ball which had begun to smoke.

“Blow?” he said, forehead creasing while you nodded. Your eyes narrowed at the tuft clenched between your fingers. “Until you get-” “-a spark,” Loki finished quietly.

He blew on the moss, flinching as the vegetation burst with flame. Thor and Steve gasped, crowding round as you dropped the raging ball of fire to the groove of the stick below. You grabbed Loki’s spear, prodding the moss. Loki opened his mouth and closed it again.

He felt that he should be bored. Or annoyed. Longing for home comforts and solitude or some such. But, admittedly, he would not have thought of this whole scenario. Against his wishes, he had learned something.

What you had done? How you had transformed nothing into...something. Like magic. When he set fire to things, he cared not how they burned. Just that they burned. And, Loki thought, they always do.

After what felt like an eternity, Loki closed the door to the cottage and turned the key.

He was the last one in, favouring a meandering pace behind the three others huddled together in a jovial formation. Water saturated him, rolling in thick droplets from his forehead down the carve of his jawline. He had never known rain like it. It had fallen like milk, heavy and thick and relentless in every direction.

Hair was plastered to his skull, to his neck. It stuck in clumpy tendrils and made a weird noise against the garish anorak when he moved. He flicked his hands forward with frustration. The clench of his stomach against the soaking fleece made him shudder.

After the first attempt, he had reluctantly admitted there was no point in drying himself every ten seconds. Even magic, he had surmised, was no match for the English countryside.

Muffled roars sounded from the living room. Loki rounded the corner, cursing every squelching step. Predictably, his brother’s head was lodged in the soaking neck of his roll neck sweater. His hiking trousers lay in a bedraggled heap on the floor, water pooling around them through the floorboards. Muddy bootprints were smeared in circles over the rug. Steve held the hem of the sweater, rolled over Thor’s head and arms, yanking it. “I’m going-to take-your gosh-darned-head-off,” he grunted; before there was a wet pop. Thor stumbled backwards, landing in a chair in the corner. He began to laugh.

Loki rolled his eyes. “I wish to bathe,” he said plainly before turning to the doorway. Steve’s eyes widened. “The lady got first dibs, Laufeyson. You’ll have to wait. Shouldn’t have dallied on the ridge.” Loki froze, a grimace descending.

He closed his eyes, clicking his neck with a tilt to the side. Thor laughed, shaking his head. He pointed to Loki, then to Steve. “What need have we three of hot baths?”

“Speak not to me of my affinity of baths. Tis you who had your very own bathhouse on Asgard” Loki snarled. He rolled his molars, the deep chill setting into his bones only half born from the wet clothes sticking to every crevice. He looked longingly at the bathroom door, thinking of what lay out of reach. The sweet caress of hot water on his aching muscles, covering his weather-worn limbs with the kiss of a million bubbles that only sought to bring him pleasure. A vision of your naked body sinking in foam fluttered in front of his waking eyes, your lips parted to the ceiling as you let your thighs fall open-

The boiler made an alarming rattle in the kitchen.

“I’ll check it,” he muttered, casting a final glance to the bathroom door as he passed. He heard a splash. And then a small groan of satisfaction.

In the kitchen, Loki gripped the counter-lip and hung his head. He stared at the greyed cream of the surface while seidr rolled up his body, every inch of sodden fabric plastered to him airing free. A waft hit his hair, blowing it over his shoulders. Shaking it back, his eyes meeting the row of mis-matched mugs from yesterday. “When in Nilfheim,” he mumbled to himself like a mantra.

He returned to the living room, three steaming mugs in hand. The others had managed to light a stove in the corner and were now wearing pyjamas. Tops and bottoms, Loki noticed. A rarity indeed. He looked again at the fire. The flames were small, but they were there. He decided to be pleasant. “Did you use the groove technique?” Loki smiled, setting a mug down on the armrest of Thor’s chair. The men laughed while Loki straightened, staring pensively into the licking flames. With mild interest, the god realised that this was the first time he had been in this room. No mean feat, considering that the cottage only had three downstairs. The kitchen, the bathroom, and this one. He glanced around at the sparse décor, as antiquated and dulled and beige as the other spaces. “I remember those,” Steve nodded, aiming towards a radio on a corner-shelf. Loki chuckled, before sipping his tea. He smacked his lips. “Honestly, Rogers. What possessed you to house us in this place? Surely there are nicer.” Steve shrugged. “I thought it would be good for us,” he said, brushing his pyjama bottoms. “I mean, look at this chair!?” Loki exclaimed, gesturing to where his brother sprawled. It was some kind of cream leather, cracked at the worn areas where a thousand mortal arses had sat. Stains adorned the peel of its chafed skin. “A son of Odin, in a chair such as that. It’s insulting.” The words were bitter, but a playful smile tugged at his lips. Steve saw it. “Actually it is rather comfortable, brother” Thor piped up. He re-adjusted himself, leaning backwards, “rather comfortable indee-” In a flash, his tea sloshed in the air; hands flying to grip the armrest as the whole chair slid back to a lying position. Loki jumped to his feet, seidr fizzling in the palms of his hands. “Calm down,” Steve said, patting Loki’s lower back. “It’s a recliner, it’s supposed to do that. Had those in my day too.”

There was silence but for the crackling of the fire which had grown to a healthy blaze. It was comfortable. Loki quietly transformed his clothes to the flannel pyjama bottoms that had lain neatly folded beneath his pillow upstairs. “What about the top? You’ll freeze.” Steve murmured, pulling his mug closer to his chin. Loki smiled, shaking his head. Fresh curls bounced around his collarbone. “I think not that a thin layer of cotton will help in that regard, Rogers.” “Modesty, then” Steve scoffed, nudging his head in the direction of the bathroom. Both brothers rolled their eyes.

“Our dear Agent has seen me in much more raucous states of undress, I assure you” he sniffed, staring pointedly at the flames. He could almost feel the wrinkle of Steve’s nose. There was another silence which hung between them, heavier this time. “What happened, Loki?” Steve whispered, leaning forward like a teen girl at a sleepover. He pulled the blanket in his lap to his chest. “Between you and-” he gestured with his head again towards the door. “You guys were pretty perfect together seemed like.” Loki bristled, feeling his brothers eyes on him too. He knew it would come to this. “We had an irreconcilable differing of opinion.” “On what?” “On me.”

Loki straightened, rolling his shoulders back and resting an ankle on his knee for good measure. Casual. The scratch of cheap upholstery made his back tingle. “Well that could mean all manner of things, brother. You are insufferable.”

Loki swallowed, blinking several times. Steve reached out, patting his hand gently, but Loki flapped it away. “Apparently I am...what were her words exactly? Oh, yes. Haughty. Condescending. Unwaveringly arrogant.” He looked pointedly between the men. “I mean, can you believe that?!” Thor and Steve’s eyes met, each waiting for the other to speak first.

“Well, yes” they said in sync.

Loki bristled again, raking a hand through his hair. “Not to the point where it subsumes all my admirable qualities, surely?” he said, beginning to pick at the green of his bottoms. “I mean really. Is it truly arrogance if what I say is true? I cannot help being a god.”

Silence was deafening.

Loki looked to the side, seeing Steve’s face contorted in a theatrical twist. One eyebrow was raised, lips stretched over his teeth in a grimacing caricature. “You do go on about it a lot.” he said out of the corner of his mouth.

“Indeed, brother.” Thor concurred. He nestled back in the recliner with a satisfied sigh. “I shouldn’t have to walk with these groceries...I am a god. I have no need of a parking permit, I am a god...I can only imagine how it is to be your significant other, especially for so long-” “Hey, Thor – did Loki tell you about ‘that time’ on Asgard?” “Why yes Rogers he did. All of them. And anyone else who’d listen. Especially the part which highlights exactly how impressive it is that he is...” “-a god,” they both finished. Loki stared between them, open mouthed. His furious gaze landed on his brother. The betrayal in his voice was palpable. “How dare you,” he growled. “You’re one to talk, spouting off about your powers and flaunting your lineage at every chance you can grasp. The audacit-” Thor raised a waggling finger in the air, pushing his feet against the chair and sitting upright. “Ah-ah-ah, brother. But I am both self-effacing and charming, isn’t that right Rogers?” he beamed. “He is quite charming.” Steve agreed, reluctantly. “You on the other hand...it comes across as more..” The three of them looked between each other. Loki’s face fell.

“Oh,” he said quietly.

Of all the times your gentle hands had cupped his, your caring words of encouragement that he think more of what he was saying; he had not listened. Not really. The armour of arrogance was a comfort to him. It was secure, unchanging. Unlike everything else. And in truth, he’d thought you’d liked it. Despite your occasional protestations.

Until the end, that was.

A creak from the hallway signalled your imminent emergence from the bathroom.

In all the commotion, none of them had heard the boiler cease its ragged howl. A few seconds later, your head poked around the door. Wetted hair fell around your shoulders, sticking to the curve of your neck. Loki looked up through his lashes, stomach fluttering as your palm slid innocently down the wooden frame. Moisture still clung to your skin.

Loki hoped you weren’t cold. “I’m going to bed, I’ll see you in the morning” you said, looking to Thor and Steve before your eyes met his. He looked away quickly. “Goodnight,” the three of them chimed, some more enthusiastically than others. You stepped out in full view for a moment, adjusting the towel around your body. “Did you use the groove technique?” you smiled, nodding to the fire. “My brother made the same joke already,” Thor said, reclining on the deceptively comfortable chair again with a flourish. “But alas, no.” Loki’s heart skipped as you focused on him. Something swam in your eyes as you twisted the towel by your armpit. Something that wasn’t irritation, or coldness. He saw your covert gaze drop to his neck, lower to his chest, then to the flat of his stomach. He shifted, curling his long legs up on the sofa.

“Join us,” he said, gesturing to an empty armchair in the corner. You shook your head, offering a weak smile. “I’m exhausted, clearly you guys have more stamina than I do.” Loki felt the mighty need to agree rise in his throat. To articulate the validity of your statement, and its infinite reasoning and commend your observations. For the first time, he was aware of its overwhelming crawl upwards like dragon-fire, sanctimonious empty words writhing like live insects in his mouth – desperate to be spat. He forced them down, under the watchful eye of Steve. The words sat in his stomach like a stone.

“Goodnight, Agent.” Loki murmured with a respectful nod. You returned it silently, before closing the door.

A sliver of open curtain cast moonlight on the wall.

Loki stared at it.

Then he stared at it some more. How long had he lain here? He turned, grasping at the vintage midgardian alarm clock on the side. He squinted. Nine-forty. Loki groaned, rolling back against the lumpy mattress. Tonight, unlike the last, sleep evaded him. Although he had only been in the maze of his thoughts for fifteen minutes, it felt like eternity. Why could he not read you? It was always so easy before, he pondered. His eyes tracked along a crack in the ceiling. Before she raised the drawbridge.

He sighed.

If what Rogers and his brother said was in truth, then it meant the unthinkable. That she was right to do what she did. Was he truly so conceited that he had let love which evaded him so long slip through his grasp for the sake of his pride? For what? To feel important for a fleeting moment? A thousand fleeting moments would be more accurate. A chill ran down his spine. Does she think that, in truth, I never cared for her at all? He closed his eyes, attempting to diminish the intrusive thought. In an act of mercy, his mind conjured the memory of you wrapped in only the towel downstairs. Hair wet, droplets kissing down your neck as you played with the side of the cotton.

‘Come here, Agent’ he would growl, spreading his thighs wider on the bed’s edge. He knew how much you loved the thickness of his thighs. At least, you used to. The version of you still in love with him would sashay across the room, bare feet leaving wet imprints on the floorboards. A coy smile playing on your pouted lips.

Would you wait until you had straddled him to release the towel, or in the moment before you did so? Loki pondered this for a moment, before deciding to indulge in both.

He could feel his cock hardening uncomfortably against the crotch of his pyjama pants, the spill of your perfect breasts into his imaginary hands making it throb. ‘Darling,’ he would sigh as he buried his face in your cleavage. His thumbs would graze your delicate nipples, guiding them to his open lips as you ground against his lap. A hand would nudge his tip inside your perfect heat before you edged down...down to meet the root. And then, you would kiss. You always wanted to kiss the first time you were fully joined. Entwined. Twin-gasps would fill the air, giving way to moans of quiet pleasure as Rogers and his brother slept next door.

Or tried to, at least. Loki spat in his hand, before slipping it beneath the waistband of his pyjamas. Cold fingers wrapped around the mass of untended lust that waited. He pumped once, pulling the foreskin back gently and letting his fist nestle against the neat of his pubic hair.

A ragged exhale escaped him.

How long has it been, he wondered briefly, before tightening his grip.

He extended his thumb, pressing harshly against velvet flesh as he swept upwards. The god’s eyes rolled back in the darkness, back arching up into his pleasure. Low pants began to pepper the air around him, each swipe of his hand more frantic than the last.

Too loud.

He bit his lip, eyes screwed shut while visions of you flashed through his mind. He settled on a memory of you in his bedroom in the tower. His hands were tied behind his back as he sat on the edge of the bed you shared, your fingers curling around his abs as they clenched beneath the touch. Your lips fastening around his trembling cock as you made him yours in each stroke of your tongue. Each slurping kiss that lingered as you sucked, his head falling back as he lost himself in you. Always, he thought between staggered breaths. Completely hers.

Loki’s fingers dug into the mattress, the rough methodical slap of his fist against flesh a din to his ears. But gods, it felt so good. He needed this. Needed to allow himself a stolen moment of pleasure where you loved him still.

Climax began to bubble in his deepest centre, swirling behind his eyelids. Loki’s thumb circled the tip with every fuck of his palm, squeezing tighter while droplets of precum made the pyjama pants damp. His teeth were gritted to the ceiling, bared in a grimace. His chin pointed upwards, the pillow folding in on his cheekbones with the force of the brace. His breaths were short. ‘Mmmm’ The god’s eyes shot open.

He paused, wincing as his fist froze tightly halfway down his cock. His ears pricked, concentrating. ‘Mmmm-uh’

Loki’s head fell to the side, facing the wall. The wall on the other side of which, you lay.

He closed his eyes, summoning every magnification of his senses that he could. Your voice. No more than a whisper, seeping through the stone.

‘Loki, yes…’

He’d know those sweet sighs of pleasure anywhere.

A breath he’d been holding rattled free, timed with a tentative tug of his cock.

He could hear everything now. The rustle of bedsheets tangled around your knees, the beat of your heart quickening as you reached your peak with him in your head. The press of your fingers on that spot just about your plump, beautiful clit. Were you imagining the flat of his tongue caressing against your desire? Loki thought you were. Orgasm began to rise alongside some unplaced feeling, his legs tensing; toes curling into the mattress.

She wants me.

In a split-second decision, he whipped the bedsheets from his body and jumped cat-like to the floor. Within two strides, he had opened the door with a creak and slipped into the cramped hallway. Your door loomed before him, adjacent to his own.

What are you doing, he thought; suddenly horrified as the chill set in. He looked down, cock hard and leaking against his pyjama pants.

He began to step back, emitting the loudest groan of a floorboard he had ever heard in his life. Loki grimaced, hushing the accursed building with clawed fingers. But it was too late. He heard the succession of your bare feet meeting the floor, and in a matter of seconds; your door opened. Just a crack. “Loki?” you warily whispered into the darkness. He cleared his throat softly, casting a glance over his shoulder before daring to meet your questioning eyes. That dragon-fire bubbled in his stomach like acid, quippy lines and heavy-handed flirtations that begged to be freed.

How had he never noticed before how much effort it took, not to let them out? I thought you might need a hand, You called for me, so I’ve come to... make you c- I know you still desire me, which is to be expected, Admit it, no one can pleasure you like me, For old times sake- Because, Loki realised, he had never tried. You opened the crack of the door wider, looking to either side of the landing suspiciously. His eyes ran from your bare feet to the hem of a nightdress falling around your thighs. He recognised that nightdress. Your favourite. It had dead leaves on it, which he never understood. But maybe now, in this place, he finally did.

You only wore it when the nights grew colder. And only when he was not there to hold you for warmth.

Which these days, he thought with a pang, is always.

All too late, the god realised he had become distracted from his newfound restraint. It had wound like ivy around his thoughts, vines twisting and flourishing with alarming speed. But there was nothing to be done about it now. “I thought you might want some... company,” he growled suggestively.

His cock pressed ferociously against his hip, covered from view by one thick forearm.

Your eyebrows rose beneath a deadpan stare. “You can’t be serious.” Like an out of body experience, Loki raised the forearm covering his crotch to rest high on the door-frame. The unmistakable scent of your arousal seeped into his nostrils, an interrupted climax lingering in the air.

Moonlight from the cracks in your curtains licked across his chest, his obliques – casting deep shadows in his cheekbones, Loki would wager.

Hair fell around his jaw, tingling the flushed skin. He could feel his manhood pressing eagerly against the cotton, as desperate for your touch as it always had been. The thrill that in mere seconds, he would feel you against him again where you belonged. The heat of your skin flush to his own, the muffled mewls from your lips as you kissed, the insatiable wandering of your hands as you devoured him like an addict’s first fix. You would be so happy. This time, Loki would make sure of that.

He looked down deep into your eyes, smouldering with all his might. “Deadly, darling.” he purred.

Your disbelieving stare fell to his crotch. It widened. “Oh my god, Loki.” you hissed. “Yes...?” he crooned presumptively in response. The rakish smile spreading barely had time to reach his eyes before the door slammed in his face, almost taking Loki’s fingers with it to the other side.

>>Chapter Three: A Long Way Down Tags (contd in comments)

@lokischambermaid @meowmeow-motherfucker @gigglingtiggerv2 @imalovernotahater @avengersalways @littledark11 @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @thedistractedagglomeration @loopsisloops @holdmytesseract @fandxmslxt69 @morriggannlostinfandoms @marygoddessofmischief @sebstanwhore @xorpsbane @peacefulpianist @yelkmelk @wheredafandomat @mistress-ofmagic @acidcasualties @ozymdias @your-taste-on-my-lips @lokidokieokie @kikster606 @peachyjinx @tbhiddlestan83 @trickster-maiden @skymoonandstardust @justjoanne242 @thenotoriouserg @ladyofthestayingpower @wolfmoonmusic @brittbax @smolvenger @liminalpebble @joyful-enchantress @kaleenjackson @fictional-hooman @kellatron55 @mrs-illyrian-baby @icytrickster17 @multifandom-worlds @muddyorbs @buttercupcookies-blog @arch-venus25 @nine-leafclover @iamlokisgloriouspurpose

#the lakes #loki x reader #loki smut #loki laufeyson #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki x female reader #loki fluff #loki x you #loki x y/n #loki angst #loki series #loki marvel #loki imagine #loki odinson #loki laufesyon x reader #loki gif #loki

[jensweller]

stories of children whose lives were taken by russians

1. Marharyta from Kharkiv region, 8 years old.

On June 21, cluster munitions fell in the yard of her family's house. Marharyta died instantly, her heart was pierced through. The girl's father, at the age of 36, has become completely gray. The mother cannot describe in words how she feels after losing her child.

2. Kyrylo from Kherson, 8 years old.

In April, the family evacuated from Kherson to Vinnytsia. On July 14, russia shelled the city, Kyrylo was in the car with his uncle. The boy died immediately from a fragment hitting his head, then an explosion occurred. The body was searched for several days. It was identified only through DNA analysis.

3. Daryna from Kharkiv region, 15 years old.

On March 13, a russian missile hit the family's house. When the father got to the hand of his dead daughter, he said: "Our Daryna is no more". She was buried in her native Dergachi. Mom recalls that the missiles flew over the people here and there. "Daryna, this is a farewell salute to you." said her father.

4. Polina, 8 years old.

On March 13, Polina and her mother wanted to evacuate Mariupol. As soon as they took a few steps outside, the russian military started shelling with mortars. Nadiya's mother died instantly. Both of Polina's legs and arms were broken. The girl was operated on in the city hospital. But on March 16, Polina's kidneys failed and she died. Polina was shooting videos on YouTube, dancing. She liked to change into different costumes and perform on stage.

5. Anna, 9 years old.

On March 19, an enemy shell hit near the house where Anna and her mother Yana were hiding. They went down to the basement. In the morning, slag began to fall from above. Several basement floor slabs fell on people. The mother rushed to help her daughter, but she could not pull her out from under the rubble on her own. Anya and other people remained buried in the basement. The girl liked to work with computers. Her mother promised that when Anya turned 10, she would enroll her in programming lessons. However...

6. Denys, 9 years old.

On September 3, the twins were walking in a park in Dnipropetrovs'k region. Suddenly, MLRS shells started flying. "I felt the space around me with my hand. He was at my feet. I went to him: "Danya, Danya ... ", but he was silent. Although they told me to lie down, I started crawling to my son. Ruslan was screaming next to me," the boy's mother recalls the shelling. On December 22, Denys was supposed to celebrate his birthday.

7. Oleksandr from Chernihiv, 13 years old.

On March 9, Sasha and his mother Tetyana decided to evacuate from Chernihiv. However, a shell exploded near the pedestrian column, and the boy was hit by many fragments. "He couldn't say anything, his eyes were closed, he was breathing heavily, he wheezed three times and died. He remained lying there," Sasha's mother recalls. In 2022, Sasha was an eighth grader. He was interested in the crypto market and dreamed of developing a YouTube channel for an english-speaking audience.

original post : ukraina_topnews

#ukraine #russia is a terrorist state #stand with ukraine #russiainvadedukraine #help ukraine #ukraine war #genocide #ukranian #children #war crimes #war #real story #kyiv #kherson #chernihiv #kharkiv

[rosesbxrry]

Banquet

Pairing: Husband! Jay X Wife Fem! Reader

Genre: Smut🔞 (Minors DNI), established/ married AU!

Warnings: unprotected sex, breeding kink (to the max), Oral (female receiving), fingering, slight lactation kink (very brief but if you’re sensitive, I advice you not to read any further), a lot of dirty talking about making babies, Jay using the term ‘wife’ to the reader, slight cockwarming. Hopefully I didn’t miss out anything else

Summary: Celebrating special occasions with your husband was nearly impossible with your young son around, especially when the both of you craved for something more intimate. With the help of your mother, she opt to take care of your son, leaving you and Jay to take advantage of this rare moment.

Main masterlist

Word count: 2, 469 words

The sound of your phone closing echoed in the empty dining room, finding no trace of any new messages from your husband who had promised to come back home from work as early as he can. Today marks your wedding anniversary, preparing a banquet full of his favorite dishes to celebrate the special occasion.

You had left early from work to send your son to your mother who agreed to take care of him so that the couple could enjoy some quality time without their toddler fussing around. Don’t get it wrong, you love your son from the moon to the back but the last time you baked a birthday cake for Jay, your son took his time destroying it before the surprise party.

If it wasn’t for his chubby cheeks and buttercream frosting all over his face and body, you would have cried instead of laughing at the sight of the mess.

Your thoughts were interrupted with the sound of the front door opening, signalling that Jay was back. You shuffled hastily to greet him, beaminng at the entrance of the door as Jay took off his dress shoes.

“Welcome back.��� You said, reciprocating the hug he initiated even though he was holding his briefcase and jacket on each hand.

“Hey, love. Happy anniversary.” He circles his arms around your waist, pulling you into a quick peck on the lips, smiling loopy as he holds you close to his body. You laugh, arms lock around his neck in an intimate manner.

“Happy anniversary to you too.” You grin at the way he sneaks another chaste kiss to your lips before losing his grip to stare at you.

“Sorry about coming home late,” He apologised, pushing some strains of hair that escaped your bun out of your face lovingly. “The others wouldn’t leave me alone to come home to my beautiful wife.” You chuckled while imagining Jake and Sunghoon constantly tailing him for business related affairs.

Yet, Jay doesn’t want to admit that without those two as his trusted right hand mens, he wouldn’t be able to flourish the company without his advisors beside him. You gave him a few pats in the chest before saying. “Now, now. As the boss, you have to set a good example to your employee if you want them to actually see you as the leader.”

“Oh? I thought I was the boss here? Why would I need to listen to you?” He raised his eyebrows in a playful manner.

“Because I’m your wife, and it goes without saying that I’m automatically your boss.” You poke his chest challengingly.

He gave you a mini salute. “Yes Madam, anything you say goes.” Laughter ensued in the room as you ushered him to come in, heading towards the dining table filled with an array of dishes you’ve prepared.

“I might have to heat up a few. They’ll taste better warm.” You said, distracted on washing your hand on the sink to handle the food when a pair of arms circle themselves around your waist from behind.

You immediately giggled when you felt his pair of lips pressed against the shell of your ears, hugging you from behind as you shiver from the contact. He moved to kiss you at the column of your nape when you turned around to face him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“You really can’t wait until the end of dinner, can you?” You taunt, staring at the way he was looking at your lips before smiling. His grip on your waist in a sensual manner as he leans close to your face to whisper— it almost gets your knee buckling at the proximity.

“I can’t help myself, can I? Not when my son is not here and I got his beautiful, sexy mommy all to myself.” He bit his lower lips, and you can’t help but let out a chuckle at his words.

“So you’re not gonna eat my food?” You ask. He shakes his head, watching you with hooded eyes.

“I'd rather eat you.”

He captures your lips without a second to spare; a content sigh emits from both of your lips as the constant aching feeling inside finally vanishes at the touch of each other’s lips. Jay’s soft lips move to devour your own, not like the ones he would usually display in your mundane life, but a sort of thirst or hunger in the way his tongue explores the roof of your mouth to suckling on your bottom lip.

“You don’t even understand the things I want to do to you.” He mumbled.

You moan and tighten your hold on his neck as he trailed down to kiss your jaw, leaving rough butterfly kisses on the sensitive skin before moving slowly to nibble on your neck. He pushes his body against yours, the edges of the marbled countertop digging at your lower back. The faint smell of his cologne alone could intoxicate you with electrifying pleasure but partnered with his dangerous lips and roaming hands on your sides, you can’t help but let him take the wheel.

“What is it you want to do to me?” You whispered, leaning back to let him leave hickeys on your neck with his love bites.

His fingers moved under your shirt and you let out a little gasp at the feeling. He chuckled at your cute reaction. “I rather let my body do the talking.”

His arms lifts you up to sit on the countertop before he adjusts himself to stand between your legs. You took this opportunity to loosen his tie while he proceeded to remove your shirt, diving in to attack the swell of your breast against your bra.

“Jongseong.” You whine, feeling his cold fingers on your back as he unclasps your bra from behind. He watches with a lustful gaze as your breast bounces out from their confinements.

“Beautiful.” He compliments, and you blush at the way he cups one pair to level it to his mouth, lips capturing the hardened nipple with a small suck. You cried out when he nibbled the area, licking and lapping at the sensitive tit while the other was occupied with his other hand, fingers delicately played with the neglected nipple to compensate for the lack of attention from his lips.

“Fuck, Jongseong.” You moaned. “Feels so good.” You close your eyes, feeling the pleasure stimulate the throbbing on your cunt as you lean back in your palms.

“If I suck hard enough, will your milk come out?” He asked while his mouth was still occupied with your nipple, his cheeky comment made you let out a shaky laugh.

“Not unless you want me pregnant again.” You said before choking on a whimper when his fingers discreetly moved under your skirt, rubbing at your clothed folds that were wet with your arousal. He pushes you down on your back, letting you rest on the marble surface before you look up to see him unbuckling his belt to relieve himself from the huge visible bulge of his hard cock against his pants.

“I think we can arrange that.” He commented.

He was roughly unbuttoning his white dress shirt, his fingers moving impatiently to rid of the fabric to display his lean body; melanin skin with toned arms and deep v-line bare for you to gaze. You swallow down the saliva coating at your throat, imaging the way his body would move against yours, the amount of brute force as he pounds into you that it was almost impossible to even imagine you not being pregnant after.

He almost chuckled at the way you squeeze your thighs together, grabbing your knees to pull them wide open for him to see the visible dark wet patch on your panties.

“Shit,” He cursed. “Are you that excited for me to fuck you? Can’t wait for my big cock to be in your pussy and fucking you dumb until my seeds make you pregnant with my babies? Yeah, you want that don’t you?”

You let out a breathy yes as he pulled your panties down until it dangled on one of your ankles before bunching your skirt. The sight of your folds wet with your own juices in full display for him like a meal had him groaning while messaging the flesh of your thighs. You bite back at the way he prompts one of your legs on the countertop, shivering at the sheer coldness that hits your core.

“Don’t worry, I'm gonna fill this tight hole with my seed and you’re gonna thank me for it like a good wife. But first—“ He leans down and you let out a loud gasp that echoes through the kitchen, feeling his tongue licking a stripe along your dripping slit. “—let me eat you out.”

You stuttered out multiple broken moans, pleads mixed together in between when starts going faster until he was burrowed deep into your cunt. With a hand gripping his hair while the other rested over your forehead, you see the concrete ceiling of the kitchen when you throw your head back when he attaches his lips around your clit.

“Please go faster.” You were sobbing at the sheer amount of pleasure as your husband eats you out without mercy, every flick of his tongue sends you over the edge until you feel the tight knot in your stomach.

“Fuck— Jongseong, I’m gonna cum.” You gasp.

As if his tongue wasn’t enough, Jay slid a finger in you before following it with another, stretching your hole and caressing your sensitive walls. You cried so loud when he slid his fingers in and out of you, accompanied with his tongue pressing on your clit in a slow agonizing motion that you came all over his mouth with your back arched and hips bucking ever so often.

His mouth welcomes your juices, cleaning the fluid off your folds as he rides you out of your orgasm.

“You’re right. The meal does taste good when it's warm.” He wipes the excess off his lips.

You tried to catch your breath, but when he handled your other leg on the countertop as well, you stared at him reaching into his pants to whip out his hard cock, pumping the length a few times with beads of precum leaking out of the head.

“You’re going to be beautiful carrying another baby for me, yeah?” He said, aligning the head with your hole. You let out a shaky breath as he descends into you between your legs, his cock filling you to the brim as you wrap your legs around his waist.

“So fucking round with my child. Breasts filled with milk for them. Showing everyone how good I’ve knocked you up with my cock. You like that don’t you? Showing them how bad you wanna carry my kids.” His mouth spouts every dirty word and you can’t help but reach out to hold onto his arms for support, his pelvic flush against yours.

You moan with every thrust of his hips, his grip on your sides were hard and tight that you were sure bruises would form the next morning. The loud wet sound of skin slapping echoed in the kitchen and this time, the both of you don’t have to worry about your son from ruining the moment and potentially scaring his life.

“Yes— God fucking yes. Put a baby in me, please.” You plead, watching as Jay’s eyes turn feral at your request. His fucking you roughly, your face twisted into the most lewd expression possible. The carnal lust was evident in the way the head of his cock japs at your g-spot over and over again, imagining it reaching close to your womb and painting it with his seeds.

“Fuck, take it. Take it like a good girl. I’m gonna fill you up with my cum and breed you like a good wife you are—“ He chokes a little, voice an octave lower as he groans loudly. “—fucking hell, you’re so tight.” He growls out while watching you squirm below him with your mouth agape. He feels you sucking him in, your walls spasms over his length that gets him throwing his head back with his eyes shut closed.

“I’m so close, fuck— I’m cumming.” You’re at the edge of losing your mind at the familiar tight feeling in your stomach, letting him rut you into oblivion even though it was starting to hurt with the way he keeps drilling into that sweet spot, making you see stars dancing along your vision. Your legs were shaking at every vicious movement of his hips, his balls slapping against your skin.

A few more slams of his hips and you came hard on his cock— ropes of his cum filled you in warm slow waves. At this point, Jay would usually fuck you through your orgasm but that would risk spilling the load and for some reason, it made the pleasure even more overwhelming at that thought of him trying to keep it in.

He didn’t show any intentions of pulling out, instead he helped you sit up on the countertop, clinging on to you with his face nozzle to the crooked of your neck. You wrap your hands around to feel his back, beads of sweat sticking to his skin under the tense muscles.

Only heavy breathing filled the silence but oddly enough, him being in you was completely relaxing. This is just you and him basking in the moment of clarity in each other’s embrace. Jay moved to stare at you, pushing back wild stray hairs out of your face.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” He hummed sweetly.

You nodded your head with confidence. “Yeah. I have been thinking about it a lot and maybe adding another little one into the family is the right decision now. Are you okay with it?” You ask. He pecked you without hesitation, a big smile on his face was enough to tell you that he equally wanted this as well.

“You should call in sick for work tomorrow.” He said. You tilted your head in confusion.

“Why?”

You yelp in surprise when he lifts you up by the back of your thighs, making you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck for support. The movement caused you to be well aware of his cock still inside you, hard and aroused that gets your toes curling at the way his throbbing against your sensitive walls.

You feel him moving to the familiar direction of your bedroom, and you can't help but shiver when he whispers an octave lower against your ears, heart pumping in excitement.

“I don’t think you can walk properly once I’m sure you're stuffed full with my cum.”

Permanent Taglist: open/ take this form to be added!

@forjongseong​ @skzenhalove

#enhypen #enhypen smut #jay smut #jay x reader #enhypen hard hours #enhypen jay x reader #enhypen x reader #enhypen jay smut #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenario #enhypen headcanons #enhypen oneshots #enhypen heeseung #enhypen jake #enhypen sunghoon #enha #enhypen drabble #park jongseong #kpop hard hours #kpop smut #jay oneshots #enhypen blurbs #jay imagines #lily’s enha hard hours

[passionateseadruid]

Snake King’s Bride 2

The Meeting

Say hello to my intersex Imp Styx. As I'm sure many of you know the evenly stripe horns are indicative of male Imps and the thin strips white are Female. And also my hellhound Pluto. Also Vagqie is 5'4 and when lucifer met her they were about the same height; but also keep in mind that he was wearing heals (that's canon, like it's in the episode). Finally, I can't believe that he has a nose

When you woke up you were still in the old wedding dress and heals. The veil had fallen from your head, you had slid it back on and flipped the veil back over your face. Whatever brought you here isn't going to get to have you so easily.

You wandered around to the halls of the place you fell into. They were red with gold columns lining every few feet. The walls were lined with apples and the columns were accentuated with what appeared to be snakes coiling around them. "Whoever designed this place needs to be fired."

On the other side of the palace, in the thrown room, Lucifer was panicking. 

"Okay! Everything's going to be fine!"

A little Imp wants in. They were taller than most Imps and had big horns that curled inward towards each other like a heart. Their hair was slip down the middle. White on the left to match the male Imp horn that was slightly bigger than the one on the right; which was female in origin with black hair that was almost tinted dark blue from some angles.

"Styx! Did you get everything set up?" Lucifer asked panic evident on his face.

"Yes sire!" They saluted him. They stood at about 4'11 and wore black leather pants, a short burgundy corset, and a white shirt with long sleeve frilly.

"Good! good."

"Sire. It might be a good idea to take off your ring as to not scare or confuse the young miss."

"Oh! Yeah, I guess." He slid off the ring that had matched Lilith's. The first time he'd taken it off in seven years. "Can I really do this Styx?" 

"Well it is up to you, but if you want you could let her go."

"But then I'd be alone again."

"I suppose so Sire."

Lucifer looked down at his ring again and materialized a black box to slip the circlet if gold into. "I can do this, somehow I know it."

You hadn't gotten very far in your expedition of the strange new place you'd found yourself in. You found a library though which was good. Always good to have a place to hide. Eventually a small fluffy creature resembling a bull dog. She had grey fur and wore a loose black dress that went down to her knees, with a red wine colored bodice. She was only 4 and a half feet tall.

"Good evening my lady." She curtsies and you awkwardly due the same. "Please my lady. Don't feel the need to bow at me. Please follow me to the thrown room."

"Thrown room?"

She sighed. "Yes. Where the king is." She looked back at you and saw you planted firmly in place. "Come on!" she motions for you to follow.

"What's going on? Where am I? Who are you? What was with the spooky fiery rift in space back in the store?"

"Are you serious right now? You sold yourself to the king of hell. Don't play dumb and pretend like you have no idea what's going on. And what's with the wedding dress? Do you actually think the king would choose some lowly human like you?"

"I'm sorry I seem to have misheard you. I thought you said the king of hell."

"I did."

"...hell? ...as in-"

"Lucifer yes." She cut you off.

"There has to be a mistake! I didn't sell my soul to him! I shouldn't be here!"

"You wouldn't be here if you didn't."

'Maybe I can convince him to let me go. He can take Regan or Kaitlyn, I don't care!'

"Head inside." The bulldog ordered.

"May I please have your name."

"Pluto."

"I hope you have a good day Pluto." 

You walked into the room. 

"Darling!" A short man ran up to you and pulled you into his embrace. You struggled as best you could but his grip was firm and unrelenting. "Sorry, to tight?" He lessens his grip and you shirk away.

"Please don't touch me. We don't know each other."

"Oh of course! My apologies. Lucifer Morningstar, your new husband~" 

"What? No... um I think there's been some mistake. I don't belong here."

"Of course you do! You're going to be my bride! That little bug wouldn't have dressed you up like this if you weren't the one intended to be my new wife!"

"But I didn't exactly want that to happen."

"Well you're here now so you might as well make the most of it!" He cheered coming closer to you.

"Wouldn't you rather have someone who wants to be with you? I'm sure there's plenty of goth girls or satanists who would kill to get this opportunity."

"Ugh. You know you humans are really ignorant. Him and I aren't the same. Neither are I and Beelzebub."

"Okay...?"

"That's not important right now." He came even closer and you back into the door. He grabbed the bottom of your veil and you snatched his wrist.

"Doll..." He sounded serious. "Show me your face."

"No thank you."

"Sorry Doll but that wasn't a request." He yanked out of your grip and took your veil off with him. "There! That wasn't so hard, was it?"

You backed up as close to the wall as you could and actually got a look at him. He was about 5'4 and had platinum blond hair. His eyes seemed to glow piss yellow while his pupils were blood red. He wore a white suit with a pink and white stripped vest underneath. His books were black as were his hands though you weren't sure if those were gloves or his actual hand color. 'but he's so pale.'

"Hm? Take a picture it'll last longer~" You rolled your eyes. "You know darling if you're so interested in my hands I can give you a demonstration of what they can do~" Your face heated at his words, and the face that he brought one of his hand up to his mouth in a V shape and licked his lips.

"Why me?"

"Because you put on my ring!"

"But I didn't know what I was doing! Why not choose someone who knows what they're agreeing to?"

"I want you Doll. You're beautiful and my heart is calling out to you. The moment I saw you for the first time in that store i knew I needed you. Come on! We have a Wedding to plan! I'm thinking next month."

"Next Month?!"

"I know it's far off but We'll need to give our guests time to prepare gifts and of course we'll need time to send out the invitations."

"Well I was thinking of more of an August wedding. But eleven months is basically a year and I'm sure it'll still be warm in hell in September so... maybe we should make it a year from now?" Your voice grew meeker as you spoke. "It would also give us a year to get to know each other."

"If I make it a year from now will you be willing to marry me?" He asked excitedly.

"Um maybe?"

"Good enough for me! Come on then! you're probably tired and you'll want to get out of this old thing."

He takes your hand and leads you through the palace.

"Mr. Morningstar?"

"Call me Lucifer! You'll be a Morningstar soon! I suppose I'll have to talk to heaven about turning you immortal. Charlie had begged me for siblings when she was younger, so I'm glad to finally be able to fulfil that."

"Lucifer, I think that we should stay in separate rooms."

"What? But why?" He whined.

"We just met." 'and your the devil.' "And I'm rather traditional." 'No I'm not but you don't need to know that.'

"Alright if that's what you wish Darling."

"And one more thing. Wouldn't it be so romantic if our first kiss was the one we shared on our wedding day?"

"Ooooohh! Like the ones in those romance novels that are so popular on earth!" She squeaked. 

"Yeah... like those."

"Well here we are! It's the best guest room in the place! I'll have Styx put on some new warm sheets on the bed and I'll get you some clothes. You probably want to go take a bath."

"Um I'm good I'll shower in the morning."

"Nonsense Doll. Unless this is a backhanded way to invite me to join you~"

"I'll go take a shower ON MY OWN!" You said running out of the bedroom.

"What am I going to do?

After your shower you cracked the door and looked down to find a pile of clothes and no Lucifer in sight. You changed into them and found the shirt tight on you and the thong given to you a bit too revealing for your taste. "What am I going to do? I can't walk out there and show everyone everything."

"Yeah, I'd prefer this all saved for my eyes only." Lucifer's voice called from behind you.

"Ah! What are you doing in here?"

"Just admiring the view." he slowly gazed up and down at you tracing the curves of your body.

"May I please have something that actually fits me?" You rolled your eyes and your arms came up to cover your chest.

"Fine..." He huffed annoyed. "But I think the size of my old shirt looks cute on you." He snapped his fingers and the shirt grew so long it basically became a night gown. 

"Is this really okay to do to your clothes?"

"It's an old shirt I don't wear anymore."

"This thong better not have belonged to your kid."

"No! no. nonononono! It was uh, my ex-wife's."

"Oh. That's a bit weird isn't it?"

"I'll take you out shopping for clothes tomorrow, but for tonight you can either use those or go commando. I know which option I'd rather see~"

"Goodnight Lucifer!" You pushed him out of the room.

"Goodnight Darling!"

'What am I going to do?' You thought.

#vivziepop #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fandom #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin lucifer #lucifer x reader #hazbin yandere lucifer #yandere #yandere lucifer x reader #yandere lucifer #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin #lucifer morningstar #lucifer magne #lucifer morningstar x you #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer hazbin #lucifer magne x reader

[slavicviking]

Good ol' Harrington Charm (Microfic)

@steddiemicrofic September prompt: charm | wc: 548 | G | cw: none

“What’s this?”

Strange as it may be, this is not the first time Eddie Munson has been in Steve Harrington’s room. In fact, he would call himself over-familiarized with the atrocious plaid wallpaper and the matching curtains, not to mention the very cute car poster that Steve, for some ungodly reason, refuses to take down.

Steve has already been banned from making any consecutive design decisions for their apartment when they move to Chicago in the fall.

And, see, that gets Eddie every time – because it’s not ‘if’, it’s ‘when’, not ‘his’ but ‘theirs’. Sometimes Eddie still finds it hard to wrap his head around.

“I can’t believe you kept it, dingus!” Similar to a thundering tornado, Robin Buckley appears out of nowhere at his side, hair whipping from left to right as she keeps looking between Steve and the item in question.

“How could I not? So many good memories,” Steve drawls out with a poignant roll of his eyes.

“Obviously.”

“Okay, help a man out here – what exactly is this?” Eddie points to the 'You Suck' column, not liking the way Robin grins. Not at all.

“Oh, you know,” she plops on the bed unceremoniously. “Just a way to pass the time in Scoops.”

“Scoops?”

“Scoops Ahoy,” Steve rolls his eyes and – hold on a minute-

“You worked in that ice cream parlor in Starcourt?” Eddie can’t help it; he bounces closer to Steve, fingers hooking up at the edge of his polo. It’s blue and gray, and if his boyfriend stood one step closer to the wall, he’d blend right in; Eddie loves it. He loves Steve. “Did you wear the sailor outfit, sweetheart?”

Steve’s face is rapidly reddening as Robin is cackling away in the background. “Laugh it up, Buckley, you wore the exact same thing.”

“Um, last time I checked I didn’t have the hat,” she props herself on her elbows. “Total babe magnet, Eddie, I’m telling you.”

“I bet.”

The thing is, Eddie means it. Maybe it speaks for how far he’s fallen from how he viewed the world just mere months ago, but he doesn’t necessarily mind it. He’s still him, still Eddie Munson, but – better, he thinks. Happier, definitely.

It doesn’t hurt that Steve would probably look hot in a literal trash bag.

“So – the board?” he inquires again because he’s nothing if not persistent. He ‘oofs’ when Steve plants his forehead into Eddie’s chest, groaning.

“Simple, Dingus Two,” Robin is the one to answer as Eddie keeps patting Steve’s head. “The board was for recording Steve-o’s piss-poor attempts at getting the ladies.”

And surely enough, the mark tallies under ‘You Suck’ vastly outnumber the ones under ‘You Rule’, but, to be honest, beating the score of zero is not that hard, really.

“Congrats, you might be the first ‘You Rule’ on this board,” Robin adds with a mock salute.

“Ah, so that’s what I really am, then,” Eddie clicks his tongue, going for teasing despite the tight knot growing inside. “Just another unfortunate victim to the good ol’ Harrington Charm.”

“I don’t think that shit was ever real,” Steve mumbles into Eddie’s chest and the knot halts.

“It wasn’t,” Robin pipes in, not missing a beat.

 Steve laughs. And the knot is promptly gone.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve harrington x eddie munson #robin buckley #platonic soulmates stobin #steddiemicrofic #steddiemicroficseptember

[minisugakoobies]

Sunny! I’d like to request #5 on the dirty texts with anyone - smutty dealers choice!

Ooooh, dealers choice?? Hmmm… I gotta go Yoongi on this one, I have not (and will never) recovered from the D Day tour. 😵‍💫

This was supposed to be a drabble but it's well over 1k so… sorry about that!! 💕

Title: Out of the Bag Now Pairing: Yoongi x Reader Genre: friends to lovers?, a bit cracky, smut, Coworkers!AU Rating: M(18+) Warnings: accidentally dirty texts, misunderstandings, mutual pining, masturbation (m), almost turns into phone sex, reader is flustered af (in the best way!), ends on a cute note, prompt is highlighted in bold

You: Okay, so we have everything ready for the presentation tomorrow?

Yoongi: Yeah, we're good to go

Yoongi: Nothing to worry about, so try to get a good night's sleep

Yoongi: I know you didn't sleep before March's shareholder meeting

Glancing at the last text message, you sigh wistfully.

For over a year now, you've been madly in love with your coworker, Min Yoongi. Ok, love might be stretching it a bit. You're wildly in lust with the man.

He's everything you've ever wanted in a partner - cool, calm, collected, clever as fuck with an acerbic wit that always makes you laugh (while praying that you'll never been on the receiving end of its sharp sting). Plus, he's absolutely gorgeous, the kind of guy that people would use an example of "have you ever seen a man so beautiful you cried?"

Or maybe that's just you.

But he is strikingly handsome, and makes your knees go weak when he favors you with one of his rare smiles. They usually come out when he's being sweet to you. Like when he's making sure you're getting enough sleep.

So yeah, you're head over heels for him. If only you had the guts to do anything about it.

You: I'll try

You: But you too! No late night movie marathons again, Yoongi

You: Boss's orders

That's just a dumb joke between the two of you. You're colleagues, on the same level, but Yoongi had insisted that you take the lead on this project, since you had more familiarity with the product than he did. Another check in the "pros" column - he's a man who supports his other colleagues and isn't afraid to take orders.

Yoongi: Yes boss

Yoongi: You can't see it but I'm saluting you right now

He sends a few emojis through and you giggle. For the last few weeks, the two of you have been texting back and forth after hours. It's mostly shop talk, but lately the conversations have dragged on and on, drifting into the late night hours. As this one has. You've already finished your nightly skincare and have moved on to your dental routine.

Yoongi: Seriously though, try not to stress about tomorrow

You: Honestly, I'm not! I'm feeling pretty confident about this

Yoongi: Good. Then you can just relax tonight

You: That's the plan

You balance your phone in one hand while using your electric toothbrush with the other. Yoongi cracks a joke, and your response is a little mangled by your sole thumb's lack of dexterity.

You: Sorry abour any typos

You: I'm like typing with one hand

Three grey dots dance across your screen for a few seconds.

Yoongi: Oh shit, you're REALLY relaxing. I didn't realize it was that type of conversation

You spit into the sink, brow furrowing as you reread his message. What does he mean by that?

Then you scroll up and nearly scream. "I'm like typing with one hand"?? Oh my god, why the fuck did you say that to him? He doesn't know that you meant you were brushing your teeth!

Frantically, you start typing out a response, erasing and starting over a few times, trying to figure out the best way to say "hey no I'm a dumbass who was just brushing my teeth and not touching myself to you" even though the fact is that you have touched yourself while thinking about him, several times actually, but that's neither here or there -

and then a new message appears.

Yoongi: Hold on, let me catch up

Excuse me??

Your phone buzzes with an incoming call and you nearly throw it into the sink in shock when you see that it's Yoongi calling. It takes a few seconds for the command to answer the call to get from your brain to your finger.

"Yoongi?"

A happy sigh greets you. "Fuck, that's better. Wanted to hear your voice."

The floor seems like the safest place to be right now, so you collapse onto it, leaning back against the cabinets under the sink.

"You did?"

"Oh yeah. You've got such a pretty voice, YN. Bet it sounds even sweeter when you're coming," Yoongi rumbles, that's the only word for it, he rumbles in that deep-ass voice of his, and you slide until you're just lying on your back, staring up at the bathroom ceiling, waiting for death to claim you, because how the fuck are you supposed to go on living after this?

"I - um - thank you?"

Yoongi laughs, but there's a slight hiccup in it, and it dawns on you what he's doing right now while he's talking to you. He's catching up. Images flood your brain - Yoongi lying on a couch, or maybe on a bed, hand tucked into his pants, fingers wrapped around a hard cock - and you choke on your own saliva.

"You ok?"

"Yeah! Yes. I'm fine, thank you."

He chuckles again, and it's physically impossible but you swear you can feel the vibrations through the phone. "You sure? You sound a little flustered."

"Oh, I'm sorry." What the fuck are you supposed to be saying to him right now? You're pretty sure it's not apologizing, but that's what you do anyway.

"Don't be. It's really cute."

Well thank fuck for that.

"Yoongi," you steady yourself with a deep breath, "what I said earlier… I didn't mean I was touching myself."

Silence. A lot of silence. It's a relief when he speaks again, but it fades quickly as you catch the disappointment in his voice.

"Oh shit, really? I - fuck." Now who's flustered? "What - what were you doing?"

"Brushing my teeth."

"Oh. Huh." He sighs, sounding deflated. "Guess I just jumped to a conclusion that I… wanted."

"Oh," you echo. "That's…" Incredible? Unbelievable? The best thing you've heard since you were born?

"Listen, YN, I'm so sorry. This whole thing was just - fuck, just really inappropriate, and if I've made you feel uncomfortable, I'm truly sor-"

Sitting up, you wave your arm to stop him. As if he can see you right now. "No, no! Yoongi. Wait. It's not like that. I wasn't doing anything right now but… but I have."

More silence. You bite your lip as you wait for him to catch up, for real this time.

"You mean…"

"I mean, I've t-touched myself while thinking about you. Before." Clearing your throat, you cover your eyes with your free hand, hiding your face from an invisible audience. Somehow, it emboldens you to keep talking. "A lot, actually."

He exhales shakily. "Really?"

"Yeah. Yeah, really." Uncovering your face, you stand, propping yourself up against the counter as you stare at yourself in the mirror. Is that really you having this discussion right now? You start to laugh.

"I don't think I'm getting the joke," Yoongi says slowly.

"Holy shit, this is just so surreal, Yoongi," you inform him. "I never in a million years thought I'd be admitting that I - Jesus, that I masturbate to thoughts of you! Not over the phone like this. Maybe after like-"

"A date?"

You huff out another laugh. "After a dozen, maybe. This is… I'm extremely out of my depth here."

"Well, if it makes you feel better, I think you're doing a great job." He's laughing now, too, and it makes you grin so wide your cheeks actually hurt. "How about this - you let me take you on a date tomorrow night, to celebrate our successful presentation, and maybe by the end of the night, we'll know where we stand on the timeline for surprising confessions?"

"Okay. Yeah. Yes." You close your mouth to prevent yourself from continuously accepting his offer.

"Great. Then… I'll see you tomorrow." His voice drops to a soft whisper. "Sweet dreams, YN."

"Good night, Yoongi."

Okay, so you may have lied to him. Because there's no way you're getting any sleep tonight.

Masterlist 💜 Find me on AO3 💜 

© 2023 by minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost.

#bts smut #yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #bts scenarios #bts fanfic #min yoongi x you #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi fanfic

[tawaifeddiediaz]

EVAN BUCKLEY + imprinting on people destined for death

[Image ID: six small gifs of Evan Buckley and three men from multiple episodes of 9-1-1 arranged in two columns of three gifs each.:

GIF 1: Thomas imparting advice on not finding a love like that, but making it in 2.08.

GIF 2: Buck watching him closely with a crease between his brows, thoughtful and solemn in the wake of Thomas' husband's death.

GIF 3: Red talking about regrets to Buck, giving him advice on not letting the job become his whole life in 3.16.

GIF 4: Buck's head tilting back slightly as the point of Red's words sink in, and the look in his eyes is filled with emotion as his jaw clenches for a minute.

GIF 5: Nathan talking about spending 40 years of a life exactly the same, injured where he lays at the happiness convention in 6.02.

GIF 6: Buck watching him carefully, something about the words resonating with him.

/end ID]

bonus:

[BONUS GIF: Buck saluting Red in 3.16, his mouth working as the emotion overwhelms him. His eyes shut for a brief second, a tremor running through his raised arm before he opens them again. Around him, siren lights flash red. /end ID]

#zee edits #evan buckley #evanbuckleyedit #911edits #911edit #911onfox #911 on fox #911 fox #911 spoilers #911 #oneawkwardcookie #usernymika #userisha #userdahlias #tusercourty #laurenlook #novatracks #useralie #tusersunnystar #maystag #userrin #tw blood #tw flashing #tw flashing lights #tw pulsing lights

[gingerlurk]

Lovers' Crest | Chapter 7: The Doubt

Din Djarin x f!Reader

Summary: Fallout comes fast when the Mandalorian fails to keep faith in you.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, slow burn, non-canon (the Razor Crest never gets destroyed, it also gets upgraded with a cabin), canon-typical violence, eventual smut/filth, post season 3, canon-typical violence, they fight (wah), jealous Din. Uhhhh please advise if there's more to add here thank you

A/N: I'll make a master list page or something at some point (update: HERE IT BE). Halp. Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, A03. Thank you for reading!

--

‘So, it’s a ship holo.’ If sounding unimpressed could make you float, Mando would be kissing the roof.

‘It is,’ Torre punctuates his words like he’s conducting, ‘ah-no ordinary ship holo. Look.’

Stepping toward the gigantic rendition of a Class H treasury cruiser, you study the layout and details. Long corridors criss-cross either side of a central column, enclosing vault upon vault stacked from hull to rafters. It’s the kind of ship that can only travel at sublight, prioritised as it is to carry as much wealth as possible above the space necessary for a hyperdrive. Well, the wealth plus the armoury bristling with weaponry and a military-trained guard duty. 

You’re trailing your eyes along one of the corridors when you spot it. You give Torre a startled look and focus in closer on the two tiny figures making salutes and bowing.

‘That’s a guard mounting,’ you say. ‘They’re changing shift.’

‘Yyyup.’ Torre shifts around the table and stands beside you, too damn close but you’re distracted. ‘Look there, that’s your quarterdeck patrol unit. They keep to the perimeter.’

You laugh in wonder.

‘What,’ Mando steps forward.

‘It’s live!’ You reach a hand up and twirl the view to the patrol Torre pointed out, pulling in for a closer look. ‘See?’ Seven red-lined holographic figures move in a V; you can even see the rear two figures reaching out and checking whatever’s on the walls.

‘It’s a live fucking feed of what’s happening on this ship right now?’ You turn to Torre. He’s drinking it in.

‘Pretty sweet, right? You would not believe the crew I had to ride with to get a hold on this. Ha, it’s a real story, I’ll tell you all about it, maybe over d—’

Mando interrupts by grabbing your arm and pulling you backward. ‘We need to leave, now!’ He tugs you so hard you stumble a little.

‘Woah. Hey, man, no need to manhandle her,’ Torre says. ‘I know what you’re worried about but trust me, this line has a 100% bonafide, platinum-tier, guaranteed-on-my-mother’s-grave, airtight encryption. No trace. Nothin’.’ He sweeps a hand, whoosh. ‘Wouldn’t have it in here myself if I wasn’t certain.’ 

‘Hey,’ you say, ‘hey, lookit.’ When you’d tripped your eyes had landed on the lowest deck of the ship and you saw it. An energy signature. You suspect you know what it is.

You reach out and pull the spot on the map toward you and Mando, who’s released your arm but still radiates flight or fight reflexes. Maybe flight and fight. But he leans in too when he spots what you’re dragging in on.

The objects are lined with a deep, radiant grey. They sit in a room surrounded by treasures glowing more brightly, but the spot you’re looking at feels infinitely denser, a heavy presence even on the holo. They’re sitting in neat piles on a long bench, dozens of them.

‘There it is,’ Torre says behind you.

‘The beskar.’ Mando straightens and turns squarely on Torre, whose wide grin doesn’t falter. 

He holds hands out, palms up. ‘So, you in?’

Thanks to the depth of intel available on the projection, the plan really isn’t all that complicated. It’s just wildly dangerous and leaves plenty to chance. 

You fidget as Torre explains the steps, looking sidelong every few seconds at the dark and brooding figure beside you. Mando has said nothing beyond demanding more detail, which the wannabe orchestrator of this heist is all too happy to provide.

‘The great news is that this ship is way out there, way on the outer rim,’ Torre is saying. ‘So we won’t have any company to worry about.’

He trails a finger through the flickering image in front of you all. ‘We’ll have to plot a precise path onboard to avoid patrols. It’ll be convoluted and means we’ll have at least eight rounds of airlocks to hack through. Which you’ll handle ably,’ he nudges your knee with his.

‘We program them to open for just a few seconds, then seal shut and go offline, so they can’t be reopened – even remotely – giving us time.’ He drags a corridor in and zeros in on the small room you’d identified earlier. Points at it.

‘We raid the vault, then we head here,’ he shifts his finger to a room full of servers, then spins to a nearby bench and picks up a datalink. ‘Plug in this code I’ve designed.’

You remember Torre’s coding and programming… abilities. Once, when he was in your Uncle’s employ, he’d intercepted and hacked an incoming ship with a rumoured assassin onboard. The ship had jumped to hyperspace, destination an imploding star system. 

You’d heard about that only later though, when it was too late and he was gone. Otherwise you might have tried to learn a thing or two from him.

‘Once this tight little program is running,’ he’s carrying on, ‘the escape pods here will decouple from the system, unlock themselves and become untraceable. We’ll get to a pod, ride a few seconds of freefall and be out of reach. Then we just skip along to a rendezvous. Home free and soaked in riches.’

He sits back, looking smug.

You roll your eyes. ‘Torre…’

‘Hm?’

‘One thing…’

‘Which is?’

‘How do we get on the ship?’ you say, pointing at yourself and making a hopping motion toward the holo.

‘Oh! Well that’s where you come in, isn’t it,’ he says, gesturing a hand up and down Mando. ‘Imaginin’ you have all sorts of tricks up those shiny sleeves to sneak aboard a vessel. S’why I’m even letting you in on this.’

He looks at you and serves up another smirk. ‘Well, and for old time’s sake,’ he grins.

You look at your partner, a little unsettled by his posture – shoulders rigid and fists clenched, like he’s ready to pounce. You lean into his frame of view, try to get his attention, but he seems to be trying to set Torre on fire with his mind.

After a beat. ‘Mando?’ you say.

‘I have a way,’ he says, voice black. ‘It requires a droid though.’

‘Well I’m fresh out. You?’ Torre shrugs.

‘I have a source,’ the brooding figure says. He turns to you, ‘I can drop… him off at the same time.’ You just nod, happy to be keeping Grogu out of this one.

Torre slaps his palms together, showing only excitement and seemingly unaffected by the absolute waves of tension and fury being directed at him.

‘So, it’s settled. You pilot your ship – very capable, I’m certain – to create our ingress. She and I board, navigate on foot while you monitor from the security feeds, which I’ll hack by the way. We take the prize, make our escape and rendezvous. Job’s good!’ He looks between the two of you, smiling wide.

‘Absolutely not!’ Mando barks. You jump at his intensity. It takes you a second longer to register why.

‘Um, no,’ you say. ‘You’re saying you and I go in alone?’

Torre’s smile fades and he thumbs at the holo display. It flickers and disappears. He crosses his arms.

‘Afraid so, sunny,’ he says. Much as you hate having your childhood nickname recalled, him butchering it feels worse. ‘That is non-negotiable.’

You stare at him, incredulous. ‘You can’t be serious?’ 

He drops his arms and waves one over the space where the ship had been hovering moments ago.

‘Look, facts are – we need oversight, we’re already leaving enough to chance. You and I,’ a thumb between your chests, ‘will be fast and quiet.’

You’re gearing up to counter argue – a droid could monitor security, Mando’s stealth would surprise you, you’ve planned this all along haven’t you, you fu— But he stops your thoughts dead. 

‘And, to be honest with you,’ he says, ‘you’re not getting your hands on that stash without my full cooperation.’

The Mandalorian takes a deadly step toward the scheming bastard in front of you, whose hands raise in mock surrender.

‘Wouldn’t do that,’ he says. ‘That ship holo is coded to me specifically. Me alive, I add.’

That doesn’t seem to matter to the towering furnace of hatred bearing down. Time to step in again, it seems.

‘Mando…’ you say carefully. You step around him to face Torre. You don’t have the patience for this. The sooner the job is done, the sooner you can get away from this manipulative and chilling relic of your past. So you stay practical: ‘Is this really the only option?’

Torre just gives you his even, bright-eyed gaze. Its intensity is something you haven’t felt in a long old time and you have to concentrate hard to not break contact. He takes the opportunity to search your face, mouth twisting in an all too familiar hunger.

He doesn’t look away from you but addresses the one you now seem to be shielding him from.

‘What’sa matter, Mando?’ he spits. ‘Don’t you trust her?’

You give him a disgusted look that seems to delight him before pivoting 180, looking up into the sights of the impenetrable T visor.

‘We can do this,’ you say. ‘If this is what it takes?’

Lately, you’ve been able to tell if Mando is looking at you or not. Been able to detect some modicum of silent communication. But right now he’s unreadable. Maybe his eyes are closed? Clenched shut in the furious state of being forced to make a difficult choice. 

Eventually though, you hear a strained exhale and the unmistakable twitch of acquiescence.

‘Very well,’ he murmurs. A slight tilt of the helmet and that’s it. He says no more.

Your bounty partner heads off to deposit Grogu and pick up his sourced droid. He says little before departing, just offers you a clipped ‘watch your back’ and taps a vambrace to your wrist to set your encrypted comms channel, a habit at this point.

It left you with Torre, to sit by the holo to memorise your route through the gigantic treasury ship. It was difficult to concentrate though. One, because you were anxious about Mando’s increasing state of anger and annoyance, and two – Torre would not shut the fuck up.

Reminiscing, sharing stories and – frequently, irritatingly – suggesting getting dinner at a local place that does ‘killer noodles, seriously, they could kill you’. You channel the stony and assured veneer you’d seen on Mando plenty of times now. Waiting patiently as a bounty pleaded, bargained, begged. 

Just let him talk, he’ll tire eventually.

Unfortunately though, this isn’t some random job and the more Torre talks, the more all the shit in your past pushes its way into the forefront of your thoughts.

So you give in, suggest getting the noodles to go. You think food might shut him for a little while. And you argue against eating in because you still needed to be watching the map, even though you’d had the path learned by rote already. Really though, you just don’t want to be anywhere else when Mando gets back.

It does grant a brief respite of quiet, but it doesn’t stop him for long. He slurps up a strand and cocks a look at you.

‘So what was it, huh?’ he asks. ‘What made you forever leave your luscious little life behind and go trekking all over the outer rim kicking ass and taking names?’

‘Hells, Torre. I thought you might remember me in a more flattering light than that,’ you nudge your noodles around the cup. They really were incredibly good, but your appetite was now gone.

‘True, sorry. That world was always too small for you, wasn’t it? But I know you were loyal to it. I learned that the hard way.’ 

Ouch.

You draw a breath. May as well be honest.

‘I did try. But my Uncle… He- he was going to… he was going to sell me,’ you look at Torre and his eyes are hooded, dark. ‘My hand, that is, in marriage. To a fucking monster.’ Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.

‘That fucker.’

‘Yeah.’ You laugh. ‘You know what’s funny? He’d paid Mando a not small sum to get me back. When I first heard that I thought… maybe he actually cared. About me.’ You shake your head and put your food down. ‘But the whole time, he’d just had an even bigger endowment on the way.’

‘That’s not really very funny at all.’

‘Yeah,’ you say again. ‘But… I doubt he’ll be making any attempts to find me again. More pressing concerns now. So, I’m done,’ you shrug pathetically. 

Torre reaches out to brush his fingers over your knuckles, bloodless and clenched as they are on your knee. You stare at them, eyes blurred.

Mando picks that moment to stalk in.

He takes in the scene as you stand quickly and wipe at your face, stepping around the table to stare hard at the ship manifest.

‘We are set,’ he all but snarls.

Torre slaps his knees and stands too.

‘Well let’s not burn any more daylight and get into it!’

The hostility cascading off Mando as the three of you board his ship has put you so far on edge you can hardly think straight. It must be the stress of knowing he has to retrieve that beskar, surely. Maybe the riskiness of the plan? Could be.

Or what if he’s just worried about you working alone with Torre? 

It may be all three. But at least you can try to help appease one of those worries right now. Maybe he just needs reassurance you’ll be okay. Remind him you can handle yourself. So, while the Crest navigates toward the warp spot, you make your way up to the cockpit and approach his tense, hackled back. 

He’s situated R5 by the input port. The old droid beeps and rotates, dialled into the instruments. It swivels a sensor to where you hover by your chair. Seems to detect the tension in the air and wheels back to the console, going quiet.

‘I know we agreed we can’t trust Torre,’ you say carefully. His helm twists aside like he’s listening, but he doesn’t turn. ‘And we can’t,’ you add quickly. ‘But I’ll be okay.’ 

A slight rise of shoulders, otherwise nothing. 

‘Trust me,’ you try again. ‘I know how to handle him.’

Mando reacts to that. He scoffs.

‘Yes, you know him very well,’ he grits.

Hang on, what does that mean? Incredulous, kind of affronted, you step back. 

‘Is that what I said?’

‘And I am sure he knows how to handle you too.’

You’re so caught off guard you forget why you even came up here. How could he even think… Like that… He’s giving you his still-as-a-grave stance, waiting for your slip.

‘Hells d’you mean?’ you ask, trying to keep anger and hurt out of your voice. You thought you’d been getting somewhere with him.

‘How did you even know about beskar?’ he snaps, like he’s been waiting to accuse you of something. 

‘What--?’

‘Back in town, at the marshal’s house. You knew it was important. How? You didn’t know a thing about Mandalorians when I met you.’

That sends you back another step. Where is this coming from? You can’t stop the affronted tone from your question.

‘Are you suspicious of me or something?’

Some kind of tide breaks and he finally pivots to glower over you.

‘Amazing coincidence isn’t it?’ he spits. ‘We happen to run into someone from your past with a bounty too good to be true, he knows you, has the perfect plan? Needs exactly what we have? And you’ll just follow him along?’

A rage bubbles up in you and you try to will it down. Swallow, deep breaths. But your best efforts fail. A sudden fury swells between the two of you and you can’t see a way to quell it. 

‘If you’ll remember,’ you say through gritted teeth. ‘I said he was a spy and a schemer. I know what you know. How the fuck can I do any different?’ You wave at his shiny chrome chest plate, furious. ‘I remind you we’re here for you?’

He spins away from you, pretends to adjust dials. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ he snarls. ‘I will take the beskar, and you can take whatever riches you can, use it to go back to what you’re used to. The life you had.’

The last word hits you like a blaster to the chest. The floor of the Crest's cockpit opens up and you are in freefall. How… how--? You’d thought he understood you didn’t want that life, told him one of the worst things that had happened to you in that place. You chose to leave them. Chose this life. You’d thought he understood.

‘I didn’t choose that life. I chose this one, I chose y—’

‘But you did choose it.’ He’s so riled up he doesn’t hear you. ‘When I asked you to stay, you told me you had to go back.’

‘Had to, not wanted to!’

He whirls back on you, leans in. ‘Is there really a difference? You would have stayed if not for your family trying to sell you off. I’ve never seen a person more at home in gold and gems and--’

‘That isn’t what I want!’ Your voice rises. ‘How could you think that about me?’

‘How am I supposed to know what you want? You are like an open book sometimes, then you shut yourself up out of nowhere.’

‘Well better a book than a blank fucking wall,’ you may be screaming now. ‘I don’t get to read you at all!’

R5 interrupts the molten fire spitting between you. The Crest is on approach. You just wrench away and march to meet Torre at the hatch, not looking back once but knowing the Mandalorian is going to bring you in to retrieve his treasure anyway.

--

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#the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader

[pedros-immaculate-vibes]

Smoke and Mirrors 1

A BG3 AU, fluff and tension with Professor Dekarios, Paramedic Halsin, and you as the injured TA

HAPPY BDAY @general-dweebous

“And now,” began the professor, “let us sort the chaff from the grain. Best of luck,” he continued, handing out exam packets as you followed and handed out answer booklets and multiple choice slips. “I have full confidence that most of you will do quite well and plenty of you will have wished you’d attended most lectures.” He froze, mid-step, and adjusted his spectacles; peering over them, the answer key on one student’s forearm became quite visible. “Matilda, may I see you in my office?” Readjusting his glasses along the bridge of his nose, he resumed climbing the stairs and dispersing packets. “The first packet will involve multiple choice, the last will require you to use those magnificent minds that I’ve helped mold since the close of summer. And,” he paused and lifted a finger into the air, “the larger the word and more difficult to pronounce, the better,” he resumed his ascension, “I may even add points on poetic flourish.”

An acne-ridden scowl darkened one student’s face. His hand shot up, “But, Professor Dekarios, this is a history course. Why does how we express it matter as long as it’s right?”

Gale continued disseminating papers, “AH! Because your voice is who you are! It is your essence splayed out with ink and paper. It is what,” a lick of his thumb as he separated the packets, “separates you from every other person in this room. And if I see some creative individuality,” he eyed the student over his glasses once more, taking in his very basic aesthetic, “I like to reward it.”

You stifled a chuckle as he carried on, describing what else would be on the midterm. Thank the gods I decided to wear these flats, was your main thought at the moment. You’d wanted to wear something a bit more—what was a good word— “eye-catching” to go with your flowing skirt, but reasonable Toms would have to do. The class was held in a large auditorium with a long flight of stairs separating three columns of chairs; while you didn’t appreciate the amount of walking necessary to make sure everyone participated honestly, you did find a hint of joy in the way the professor’s voice seemed to reflect off of the walls. 

The room was an amphitheater and Professor Dekarios was its orator, keeping you enrapt in his eloquence for four semesters, now. As quick-witted as he was, however, he seemed to be oblivious to any notice of yours. While he did appreciate you bringing him a mug of black tea whenever you fetched a coffee for yourself, or the time you had made chocolate chip cookies to sate any hints of hunger during a grading session in his office, he seemed unaware of your subtle advances. 

If he hadn’t been a coworker who’s company you enjoyed so much or if you didn’t finally have a position in your first-choice college’s administration, you may have more overtly tested the waters and seen where it took the two of you.

Fortunately (or unfortunately), both were the case and for now you were content with merely sharing thoughts and time with him. 

“Meg, my dear,” your eyes shot up to his, a few loose strands framing his face, “I was hoping to be in my office, reviewing a few historical findings Professor Elminster sent me last night. Think you can handle keeping the hopeful masses in check?”

You looked around at the expanse of a room, hearing the groans and low chatter of the dozens of disgruntled students. They were prepared for their doom.

“You can say no,” he added, tilting his head as you looked back at him.

He’s literally giving me puppy eyes right now, how the fuck do I say no to that.

“Psh, I’ll be fine. No shenanigans’ll happen on my watch,” you feigned a salute that extracted a chuckle from the professor. 

“Well, in that case, I’ll owe you. Maybe I can pay you back with a coffee while we grade these later,” he added, looking away to clear his throat. 

“Sure! Gods know we’re going to need something to keep us awake.” You had leaned in toward him, conspiratorially, and looked around to the rest of the class again.

“AhEM, yes, well, right, that—that should do well, then,” he replied, loosening his tie. “Is it a bit warm in here? I supposed it’s a good time to head back to my natural climate in my office.” He faced the auditorium sprawling out below him, “Right! Well, gods’ speed, and Begin!”

***

The auditorium was filled with the sound of sighs, quiet groans, and scribbling. You paced up and down the aisles, making sure everyone filled in the bubbles in good faith. Matilda’s seat remained open as you passed it on your way up the stairs once more.

The door above clicked open. “Hi,” the professor whispered, holding the door ajar, folded napkin in hand, “Good work, I figured you could maybe use a little pick-me-up since you’ve been pacing for almost an hour, now.” He handed you the folded napkin through the space in the door. You turned and looked down toward the class, noticing that half of them watched the interaction while the other half looked toward their neighbor’s tables, and turned back to Dekarios. Unfolding the thin paper revealed a warm coffee cake muffin: your favorite.

His glasses held his tousled hair up and away from his face. A glimmer shone in his eyes and a smirk shined beneath. “I wouldn’t have my favorite coworker swooning alone in the classroom from not having a treat handy.” A smile was shared between the two of you.

“Thanks.”

“Of course, Meg. Now, I’ll let you get back to it. I was just getting to the part of the article regarding the importance of medieval cultural advances and folklore. It’s brilliant!” He pinched the air in front of him with zeal, then waved once more and closed the door. 

You held the pastry close to your face and breathed in deep, savoring the delicious aroma, when—

*BERMBERMBERM*

Emergency lights flashed as the fire alarm blared from all around; suddenly, the air was filled with the sound of panic a few screams from behind you. 

You spun around, almost dropping the muffin to see students scramble up, grabbing their bags and careening up the stairs. They raced past you, as you saw smoke billowing up from the foot of the stairs.

“Oh, my gods, Fire! FIRE!” 

“What on earth is happen—” began the professor, reopening the door only to be pushed aside by the crowd.

You turned, handed him the muffin, then leaped down the stairs taking two at a time. Halfway down, you unlocked the fire extinguisher case with your admin key and held it under your arm. Adrenaline pumping as you continued your descent, you failed to notice how close the last stair was when you skipped past it and landed at an angle on your left foot.

*twist*

FUCK, that’s going to be a problem. But, fire’s a bigger problem right now.

You limped over to where Professor Dekarios kept his dustbin: flames consumed the refuse paperwork in the basket. 

“NOT TODAY, FUCKER!”

You pulled the pin and the trigger, spraying foam and smothering the flames thoroughly. After a few more seconds, just to make sure the monster was conquered, you released the trigger, huffing while your ankle still throbbed. You placed the extinguisher down with a deep sigh and sat on the professor’s desk, trying to take weight off of your foot. A moan escaped you as you lifted your injured ankle up to your knee. Looking up, you noticed a handful of students by the doors and Gale halfway down the stairs, eyes wide and cheeks flushed. What you hadn’t noticed was how far your skirt had been hiked up your thigh.

“I think I got it, I think it’s fine now,” you panted, brushing a stray strand back behind your ear.

“Yes, I think you are—I mean, um,” he rubbed his eyes with his right hand and nodded, “Yes, yes, um, good job Meg,” he removed his hand and headed down the stairs to you. 

A few of the stray students clapped and you waved weakly, “Thanks, thank you, yup. That’s why they pay me the big bucks. Pretty sure it’s safe to say ‘class dismissed’, right, Gale?”

“Yes! Yes, you��re all dismissed,” he flicked his hand behind him flippantly, signaling for the remnants of the class to disappear.

Other administration members arrived to see what the commotion was about. “Gale! Meg! What the devil happened here?” You knew Rolan cared, he just had an odd way of showing it. “It smells abysmal in here, open a window or something.” The librarian stalked toward a large window a quarter of the way down the auditorium and shoved the pane up. A pleasant October breeze swept in. “And why are you still just sitting there?”

“It appears our heroine has acquired a wound in battle, so unless you know any healing techniques,” Gale’s voice lowered from a shout to something softer when he faced you, “she’s better off here, on my—well, on the desk, that is.”

“Ofcourse you would go an injure yourself, wouldn’t you?” His words were meant to annoy, but you saw the change in his demeanor upon hearing of your state. “Well, it’s best that the fire department should be here any minute, then isn’t it? And even if we called off the hounds, given that it seems you’ve fixed that smokey little problem, they’d still want to see for themselves if the danger was quelled substantially or not. They’ll probably have someone that can patch you up, though.” Rolan paused his soliloquy to focus on a different topic with a slightly gentler tone. He approached the desk you still sat on, your foot propped up while you grimaced, “…How bad is it?”

“It’s not great,” you sneered through half-closed eyes. 

At that moment, you could faintly hear sirens. Here comes the cavalry. At least there was one bit of good news: you could tell the firefighters you’d braved the flames and saved the school yourself. And considering, well, your general opinion of those in the fire services at large, you wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to impress if you could.

A few minutes later, the sirens stopped immediately outside of the window. You all watched and bantered as the crew climbed the stairway outside, lead by—

No, there’s no possible way one of them is that tall. It’s some kind of trick, viewing them at this angle through the glass, you rationalized. Then again, the rest of them all look normal. You suspended your disbelief and waited for them to make their way over, gear in tow. The tall one stopped outside of the door and spoke to Dean Aylin. Unlike nearly everyone around, the dean failed to be distracted by the fireman and continued to debrief him.

Time slowed.

The tallest man you had ever seen bowed his head and angled his shoulders down, through the doorway at the top of the stairs. A frown darkened his striking features, including his facial tattoo that stretched the length of his face on the right side. 

He locked eyes with your little group at the base of the auditorium, and his softened. 

“Well, I take it you’re our hero, are you not?” His voice boomed down, effortlessly.

“That’s me,” you replied, ignoring every single overwhelmed sensation in your mind and body at the thought of this muscle-bound behemoth talking to you. Just pretend this isn’t real. None of this is real, and I won’t say something stupid. I’ll be smooth as butter. “And you’re, what, the resident talking tree?”

“HA!” A wide grin cracked his face. He shook his head, “No, that would be our driver, Minsc. I’m Halsin Silverbough and I’ll be your medic for the meantime.” He slid his bunker gear jacket off and draped it over his arm as he approached you.

In what universe had you done something to deserve luck this phenomenal?

#halsin silverbough #bg3 #halsin #halsin fanfic #baldurs gate 3 #Gale #dekarios #waterdeep #dnd #fanfic #BG3 AU #paramedic halsin #Listen #im ill #and sometimes i write things #And sometimes people like the things i write

[sibsteria]

Damage Control [Part Two to Devotion]

Warnings: Violence, smut references, use of word Spen (Sparrow-Ben), my undying love for Lila

Summary: How will the remaining population of Hotel Obsidian react to the news?

Reader is Klaus’ sister

Read Devotion here

I love feedback! So feel free to give some :) I’m also thinking about adding a part three, the wedding. But if this works better as a two parter it’s forgotten.

It was a race against time, how fast even is this elevator? Is everyone still in the lobby? Maybe we’ll get lucky.

Ben stands, back to the wall and arms crossed.

“He seemed terrified.” He shrugs.

“Seemed? Put yourself in his position.” I shake my head with a short laugh.

“I’d much prefer the one I was in, thanks.”

“Deviant.”

“You love me.” He smirks, a softness in his eyes.

“It’s my fatal flaw.”

“Shush.” The elevator dings after what felt like forever.

I run out the room, in hopes that his first thought would be to seek out the lobby loiterers.

“Ben Asshole Hargreeves! Where are you?!” I shout, passing columns and empty seats.

I hear a muffled kerfuffle a couple of turns away, I beeline for the noise in haste, other Ben on my heels.

“Stay here.” I whisper to him, nodding to a large pillar, he salutes me.

“What are you telling us?” Viktor’s calm yet confused voice is the first clear dialect I hear.

“I’m telling you that I am traumatised! You idiots!” He’s seething, spit exiting his mouth.

“You better have not opened your full of shit mouth.” I grumble, storming over to the copy.

“I don’t know what you mean? Other than the fact I saw my doppelgänger with his dick inside of you!” He screams in my face, suddenly I’m surrounded by gasps and low murmurs.

“What?!” Diego’s voice echos, bouncing off each wall, Lila grabs his hand.

“Oh, come on! You really believe him? He’s a dickwad!” I preface with my hands wild in motion, fingers crossed for my acting skills.

“Actually, yeah, why should we believe you? I mean, Klaus hasn’t even seen him since we got here and we don’t even know if Y/n can see him too?”

“Wait, that’s his jacke-” Damn it, Klaus.

My plan almost worked, until a clatter sounds from the pillow to my left. I forgot about the leather currently draping over my shoulders was something Klaus would recognise.

“Shit!” I heard Ben’s whisper-yell.

“Ben?”

“Ben!”

“Is that you, Benerino?”

He comes out with his hands help up.

There isn’t much time for anyone to react before the Sparrow copy is protruding his tentacles, grabbing my boyfriend by the neck.

He does the same, now they’re both choking themselves to death.

“Both of you, stop!” I throw my hands up, letting my power turn my Ben into mist. I run placing myself in front of him, before letting him return to his state.

“Thanks, babe.”

“Anytime.” I breath out.

“Wait, babe?” Allison scoffs.

“Is there…something I don’t know?“ Klaus narrows his eyes at me in a sarcastic manner.

“How long has this been going on?” Diego snaps.

Five is still silent, nursing a glass of what I can only assume is not good for his little body.

“Since he helped me after I cut my finger on that broken plate. The one with the flowers one, I wouldn’t stop crying, I stole ice cream for a week afterwards to make myself feel better.” I mumble.

“That was when we were fourteen!” Diego is wide eyed.

“So…it’s been going on for this long?” Luther finally speaks up.

“I mean, can you blame me? Ben is everything I’ve ever known. He was my anchor of sorts.” I shrugged, thinking back to the times he had helped me out of my nightmares and fits. I look towards the copy, an unreadable expression on his face.

“I thought I was your anchor!” Klaus whines.

“You have to be, we were pushed out from the same womb!” I reason, Ben’s hand finds a place on my shoulder.

“Is this why you haven’t ever been out on a date? You’ve never had a boyfriend? Never even had a crush-” I cut Allison off.

“I’ve done all of those, just…with Ben.” A smile paints my face, I lean into his chest. I feel him press a kiss to the top of my head.

“I wonder what ghost sex is like.” Lila chimes in, receiving a smack to the arm from her…boyfriend? I giggle, I will absolutely have to describe it to her later.

“So…you, dear sister, have been screwing my best friend behind my back fooooor…fifteen years give or take?” Klaus stands from his place on a chair, sauntering over to me. My heart plummets.

“I-I’m sorry, Klaus, I-”

“I mean…how dare you!” Now I realise, he’s not mad at all, he’s using his fake-mad tone. The one I’ve had to deal with all my life.

I roll my eyes, flipping him off.

“I mean I thought you were a virgin! A complete opposite to me, oh, but now I see it all. You, saucy minx, you!” He gives me a little hand flick motion.

Luther and Sloane are too busy staring into each other eyes.

“We all did.” Allison shrugs.

“I mean, I gotta know all the details now. Oooh! Did he use his tenties? Golly darn, ghost sex? Why didn’t I think of that?” He huffs out.

“Never say tenties again.” Ben finally speaks from behind me.

“Yeah, please.” The quiet Sparrow adds, breaking his silence.

“So whadd’you think of all this fake Ben?” Klaus wiggles his shoulders at him.

“I’m not- I’m not fake Ben. I’m still me. This is…weird. Kind of, violating actually.” He knocks back a glass of whatever he had poured from behind the bar.

“Oh, you bet it’s violating! Think of all the blowjizzles he got and you didn’t-”

“Why would I want them in the first place?” He squints his eyes, scoffing at my brother.

“I mean, not in an incesty way, but we are two hot twins!” Klaus tries to reason, throwing out his arms either side of him.

“Ugh.” My secondhand embarrassment hits me, I rub my forehead.

“You’re very cocky, you know that?” The Sparrow spits out.

“Well, right back at you, sweetheart!” Klaus drums his fingers against the bar.

“This is insane.” Allison states, shaking her head as she throws up her hands, walking towards the elevator.

“Don’t go, Alliso-” Viktor gets up, trailing after her.

“I don’t wanna hear another word from you.”

They both disappear around the corner.

“This family is doomed.” Five quips, taking another sip.

“Why have you been so quiet? Mr Mysterious?” Luther raises an eyebrow at my older-younger sibling.

“I though we all knew this? It’s deathly obvious. Y/n, darling, no offence but you are in no way discrete.” He places a faux hand over his heart.

“None taken, bestie.” I feel Ben’s arms wrap around my middle.

“Don’t call me bestie.”

“But you’re my bestie! Oh, c’mon, Five!” I pout at him and he rolls his eyes in return, I know I’m his favourite.

“Can you take your hands off her? All this is making my head spin.” Spen pinches his nose.

“Why would I do that? Maybe you should lay off the liquor.” My Ben challenges him.

“It’s fucking weird!”

“What’s weird about a dead guy holding his girl in front of his douche-twin?” I hear the sarcasm roll off his tongue, he just can’t help himself.

“Are you hearing yourself right now?”

He unwraps just arms and walks toward the bar, I hear footsteps walk over to me, Lila.

They start laying insults at each other, morphing into Korean. I blink my eyes, a little stunned at the-

“Am i the only one that finds this incredibly sexy yet freakish?” There Lila goes again, finding her way to tap into my brain.

“Absolutely not.” I whisper, she rests her head on my shoulder. Since the apocalypse started, we had become quite close. Our teasing relationships with Five had kicked it into motion, we just bonded.

“I’m still weirded out by you two, it’s like your made for each other or somethin’.” Diego grumbles, looking at Lila and I.

“You should be over the moon that I get along with your sister!” She gasps.

“Whatever.” Poor, moody, Diego.

“Okay that’s enough, you both have too much personality to get along.” I stop the quarrelling and grab my boyfriends forearm, pulling him to come sit with me and Diego. Lila follows, seating herself on his lap.

“Oh, I love foursomes!” Klaus gushes, a joke directed at us couch couples.

Lila raises her eyebrows at me, I tilt my head back as a joke.

“Hey!” Diego warns, securing his arms around her.

“What?” She acts innocent.

“Stop trying to come on to my sister!” He whines.

“Bet she’d love it, wouldn’t you kitten?” She winks at me, a totally joke but if I didn’t have Ben I wouldn’t be opposed.

“Reading my mind, sweetie.” I give her some finger guns. Ben shakes his head next to me, used to my humour, he wraps an around around my shoulders.

“Seriously though, has he used his tenties?” Klaus giggles.

“Stop.” Ben.

“Klaus!” Me.

“Ew.” Spen.

“Nice image.” Luther.

“C’mon, man!” Diego.

“Tell me later.” Lila.

“Jeez.” Sloane.

“…” Five.

———————————————————————

Bonus!

“Hey, can I talk to you? For a second?” A soft spoken question.

I turn around to see the man who had grabbed my wrist, I look back at my dysfunctional family heading towards the elevator.

“If you must.” I sigh out, removing myself from his touch, pulling Ben’s jacket tighter around me as I crossed my arms.

“I’m sorry about- trying to choke out your boyfriend-” a slight pause in his speech, “but you need to understand how freaky this shit is.” He looks down at his shoes.

“I understand. How do you think I felt the first time I saw him? He was dead. I thought he was gone forever, then I thought I was losing my damn mind.” I think this is the most honest I had been with the man stood before me.

“I can’t imagine. So- how does this whole thing work?”

“What thing?” I furrow my eyebrows.

“You know, you being with him and me having to…deal with it.”

“You were never apart of the equation in the first place? You just happened to be alive here, so yeah, you are just going to have to deal with it. Ignore it-”

“I can’t ignore it!” He groans out.

“Oh, please, enlighten me.” I roll my eyes.

“Because you’re wasting you’re life on a ghost! He’s dead, he’s not coming back! You’re alive, you can-”

“I can what? Die in less than twenty hour hours and join him? You’re failing to see how this apocalypse thing works-”

“What if we can stop it?” He’s frantic with his hands.

“What if we can’t?”

“We just have to try-”

“I don’t need to waste my time, I want to be with my family before I go. I can always come back but…they can’t. This is their last chance to live. Ben and I will always be. And if you can’t turn a blind eye-”

“You could have been with me.” His voice is low, almost a whisper, but not quiet enough for me to miss it.

“And why would I want that?”

“I’m alive. I can be there for you-”

“Ben has been there for me! For my whole life! Dead or alive, he’s never failed me. You failed all of us, you sit in the corner and mope around. You’re a coward, but you want the top spot.”

He takes a moment to listen to my words.

“What’s so great about him? What’s so amazing? Why can’t I be Ben? Why am I fake fucking Ben?” His shell had started to crack since we started but now, the coating is sliding right off him.

“He’s honest, he’ll never be afraid to use his voice. He’s caring, almost too caring, not afraid to slap my brother around if he doesn’t get his shit together. He’s my brother’s nightmare yet his safety blanket, he wouldn’t admit it but he has a heart of gold. He can talk so ugly but he’s not a bully. You are, but you don’t have to be! You don’t need to be the asshole you fight to be.”

“I wasn’t even invited to the bachelor party.”

“That’s what you’re taking away from this? Stop feeling sorry for yourself, step up. You want to be number one? Then go ahead. But you can’t walk around here acting like a saving grace, we’re a team, we’re not an army.”

“I see why he loves you.” He leans against the bar.

“And do you see why I love him?” I search his eyes, desperate to find some heart.

“I think I’m getting it.”

“Then we’re not going to have any more problems, are we?” I feel a weight lift from my shoulders.

“I thought-I thought you were single, you know?” He laughs a little, it’s somber yet light hearted.

“Everyone did.”

“Turns out you just can’t get enough of me.” A joke flies off his tongue, we have a break through.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, charming. You need more fleshing out before you go all cocky on me.” I shake my head, returning his smile.

“I…know I can be better.”

“I know you can too, there’s always going to be apart of you that’s good. You were raised in the clasp an iron fist, wound tighter than we had experienced. Dear Reggie wanted to make sure you were nothing like us, but you can’t rule over the heart. I need you to believe in yourself and not the ability to control.”

“I still think it’s creepy.” His mind travels back to Ben and I.

“Maybe if things had gone differently, I would’ve seen you. For who you are, not who you want to be.” His face changes at this.

“I think I would have liked that.”

“Of course you would, you’re Ben Hargreeves. No matter the timeline.”

“I still think we have a chance to do this. To save everything.”

“Come back to me when you have a plan, as much as I love the perks of the void, I do like it here. I wouldn’t mind hearing you out.”

“I will, I’ll find you.”

“Stay honest, stay yourself.”

“I’ll try.”

“See you at the wedding.” I smirk.

“Oh, god.” He groans.

“Let loose, have some fun before we all perish.” I turn to leave, I still have things to find before poisoning my liver with my favourite people.

“I hate weddings.”

#ben hargreeves imagine #ben hargreeves x reader #ben hargreeves smut #the umbrella academy x reader #umbrella!ben hargreeves imagine #umbrella!ben hargreeves smut #umbrella!ben hargreeves x reader #umbrella!ben #the sparrow academy x reader #sparrow!ben hargreeves smut #sparrow!ben hargreeves imagine #sparrow!ben hargreeves x reader #sparrow!ben #tua season 3 #klaus hargreeves #five hargreeves #allison hargreeves #viktor hargreeves #luther hargreeves #sloane hargreeves #diego hargreeves #lila pitts #lila pitts x reader #umbrella academy

[darklcy]

𝐀𝐥𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜 : 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏 | 𝐁𝐮𝐧𝐤

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐲 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : armin arlert x reader 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 2k words 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: slow burn, takes place in season 1, parental issues, grief, insinuations of anxiety, bad language, reader has a bit of a struggle being social. 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: enlistment ceremony begins. new environment, new lessons, new people. the questions remains of who you'll get along with. 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭

The sun rained nicely.

 Though summer was ending, the heat was as radiant as ever, breaking sweat on the pores of foreheads and underarms. Tension so stiff you could snap with too large of a breath...the vast field of dirt did nothing to console the panic levels rising within the many bodies here.

Fresh cotton firm and pressed to your body, a lightly tanned jacket embellished with two swords crossed on the chest pocket and amongst your shoulder blades. In rows of thirteen, you stood at row three, and in plain eyesight the exact amount of recruits couldn’t be exactly placed. Just over two hundred was where you safely guessed. 

Heavy, steel footsteps cracking the earth beneath him interrupted the stillness.

It began with a speech.

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅──╮

“We now begin the enlistment ceremony for the 104th Trainee Corps!”

Broad, six foot four stature. Rows of crows feet beside the temples. A bald scalp.

“I am Keith Shadis, and I had the misfortune to be assigned to train you bastards, and I’m not here to welcome you at all.”

Quite the face to be greeted with. 

“Right now, you’re mere cattle, fit for nothing but Titan food! No, less than cattle!

In three years time, we’ll take you worthless pieces of crap and train you till you break. Give you what it means to go out and fight.”

His voice could shatter glass, and the vessels in your ear drums. Marching up and down the rough soil, his golden eyes were what terrified you the most. The shadows of his displeasure almost hid his stare completely, but just when contact was made, he honed you down like a hawk.

“In three years, when you stand before a Titan, will you still be food? Or will you be a noble wall, shielding the King? Or perhaps, one of humanity’s glorious soldiers that slays Titans?

You will decide.”

The opportunity to take in your fellow peers spread out in peripheral glances, not wanting to suggest any hint of movement. The soldiers on both sides were the only ones taken in full detail. 

In the midst of observation, a shadow blocks the glaring sunlight. You swallow down a gasp.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR NAME?!"

The boy on your left was the target. A flash of blonde hair moves as a salute births from his left arm. 

“A-Armin Arlert from Shiganshina, sir!”

A sharp inhale gets stuck in your nose. Whether the hometown mentioned stirred Keith Shadis or not, it was impossible to tell. 

..His face pops up again.

“Is that so? That name sounds fit for a pathetic bastard. Your parents name you that, punk?!”

Droplets of saliva shot out from the man’s hoarse yells and onto the boy’s face. 

"My grandfather, sir!"

Shadis dares in closer. 

“Why the fuck are you here, Arlert?!”

His response barrels out without a breath of pause.

“To contribute to humanity’s victory, sir!”

Armin Arlert shielded himself with eyelids tightly clenched, the power of his proclamation bringing his knees to tremble. Shadis is unmoving, but then he nods.

“How admirable. You will make first class Titan fodder. Row three: about face!”

The jolt of relief makes you breathe again. One more step and it would’ve been your turn. 

The boy’s blown out eyes whirl your way for a second as Shadis forcibly turns him around. The air stiffened when the instructor moved past. 

Now facing the opposite direction, you were able to examine the rows of fresh faces. Shadis's rite of passage from hell continued with a boy named Thomas Wagner, who became the chosen victim of the new column. Armin Arlert stirred beside you. Through the corner of your eye you noticed a sort of relaxation fall over his face, a bead of sweat trailing down his temple. He seemed as fragile on the inside as he appeared on the outside.

His hometown rings a bell. 

For an event so tragic, he appeared delicately. No physical stress signs, or tiresome eye circles. His form was clean cut and professional, despite the obvious fear in his posture. His motive was strong, too. A heroic service to honor at such an age.

He must've noticed you peeking at him for he suddenly glanced over to meet your gaze. His large, blue irises caught yours for a brief moment before you quickly faced front. You could feel his stare linger on your form until he too returned his focus to the front.

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅──╮

It seems everyone else was on edge, too. The intense aura radiating off Keith Shadis’s skin drove a boy to salute incorrectly, a headbutt to the forehead of an uptight cadet, and a girl breaking position to eat a simple potato. 

Such strange behavior from so many future soldiers. The question of friendship pondered in your brain; which faces you’d get along with, and the ones you wouldn’t. Three years is a long time to spend with so many individuals.

“Hello there! I’m Marco Bodt, nice to meet you!”

A sudden voice interrupts the thought. 

Raising your chin, you meet the eyes of a towering, dark haired boy with freckles dotting his cheeks. He smiles. 

Marco Bodt… 

“I’m Marco Bodt from Jinae in Wall Rose’s Southern District, sir! I plan to join the Military Police Brigade and offer myself to the King!”

He was the one standing beside the cadet who suffered a brutal headbutt. Jean Kirschtein, if you recall.

“Oh, hi.”

Marco’s grin stretched at the response. The mess hall was a quaint cabin with plenty of tables to support the amount of recruits, and yet the bench you found home at didn’t accompany anyone else. Laying atop the wood was a plate of stale bread and unfinished vegetable stew, spoon in hand with a bite. 

Following induction was the hours of dinnertime and unpacking, selecting bunks in the dormitories and changing into comfortable wear. The bunk chosen for you was the bed closest to the ladder, but what confused you was the empty mattress on your left. No sign of anyone’s belongings or note of claim. Not that it was a problem...Extra space is easy to make due with.

“What’s your name?”

You glance from his outstretched hand up to his awaiting expression. 

“..[Y/N].”

The size difference of both your hands is comical, his much larger palm encasing yours. His mouth parts to speak again-

“How big was the Colossal Titan?”

“I heard it could step over the walls!”

“That’s what my family said!”

A blazing uproar from the center of the room drowns out the other conversations. Both you and Marco peer over to spectate the growing crowd circling a particular table, a boy named Eren Jaeger seated at the head. Another survivor from the Shiganshina District, remarkably noted. 

The crouching boy beside him spouted questions left and right involving the invasion. The topic of discussion must’ve spiked curiosity all around, including Marco, who made a noise of surprise before trotting over to join the crowd. 

The skin between your eyebrows pulled together. A familiar itch in your hands drove your fingers to pick at the cuticles of your nails. Any mention of Shingashina, and the noise drowns out in a blur…

CLANG

The room abruptly hushed when Eren’s spoon dropped from his fingers. He cupped his mouth as he gulped, chin dropping to face the table. The boy crouching beside him tensed, exchanging looks with equally uncomfortable cadets. A sigh came from Marco.

“..We should knock it off. I’m sure we’re bringing up memories he doesn’t want to remember.”

The same crouching boy leaned forward.

“I’m so sorry, we didn’t mean to-,”

“You’re wrong.”

Eren broke out of his trance with a yell. The loaf of bread in his hand smashed inwards from his tight grip.

“Titans aren’t actually as bad as they say. We’ll be equipped and trained with the 3D Maneuvering Gear soon, and when that happens, Titans will be absolutely nothing.”

It was unclear if Eren had hit his skull too hard before dinner or if it was ignorance. “I’m finally able to train as a soldier…I just got caught up earlier. I’m going to join the Survey Corps, and kill every last fucking Titan there is in this world. I’ll slaughter them!”

Your eyelids squint. Ignorance.

Though his determination was inspiring. A roundabout reaction to such a traumatic experience, you thought. Whenever Jean Kirschtein counters his statement with a cocky remark, however, is ultimately the time you resume your meal, drowning out the chaos in your soup.

Marco doesn’t join you again, but he leaves you with something pleasant to dwell on. 

He was…nice.

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅──╮

“Hey, do you think Sasha will be back soon?”

The bunkmate above peeked over the edge to peer at you from underneath, black hair dangling. Lifting your head, you arched a brow.

“I’m sorry, who?”

“Sasha. You know, the potato girl?”

Ohh.

It’d almost completely slipped your mind, her treacherous punishment. It’d been about eight hours since introductions, surely Shadis spared her legs by now.

“It is a little late…”

“Right? That’s what I’m thinking, too. Should we go check on her?”

Just as you were about to answer the door to the cabin flung open. Stumbling inside was a short blonde and a taller brunette, carrying a passed out girl on her back. The blonde clutched onto a canteen of water as she searched the room.

“Does anyone know where Sasha’s bunk is?”

Her sweet voice silenced idle chatter. The dangling bunkmate sat up to point at the vacant space beside you, spurring a tilt of confusion.

“Right here, Christa!”

..It’s not an extra? 

Like a mother tucking in a child, Christa dotingly fluffed up Sasha’s pillow and covered every square inch of her body with the blanket. Her boots and jacket were removed and folded off at the foot of the mattress, and beside her head slept the water canteen.

“I’ll leave this water here for her… She must be so tired.”

With that she politely excused herself before heading off to her own bunk, the taller brunette trailing behind. 

A groan and whine hummed from her throat. She twitched in her slumber similar to how a dog dreams, legs barely kicking and small noises like yelps coming with it. The girl above dangled over the side once more.

“Seems like she really outdid herself, huh.”

Not looking away, you nodded.

“..I guess she won’t be eating any more potatoes.”

The girl laughed.

“You’re funny. What’s your name?”

Her upside down stare met yours. 

“[Y/N]. Yours..?”

“I’m Mina. Mina Karolina, to be exact.”

Her wide, toothy grin rounded the corners of your mouth up. 

“..You know, leaning over like that is dangerous. You could fall.”

A blanket of black hair swished as she shook her head. 

“If I can’t handle this, then how could I ever handle the 3D-Whoa!”

A yelp whooshed from her as her body tipped over and fell hard on the wooden floor below. The weight of gravity stunned her for a few agonizing seconds, groans of pain the only indication she survived. Your head poked over the edge. 

Her pale cheeks flush fuschia. 

“I didn’t think I would actually fall…”

You scoff through your nose. Descending down the ladder, you carry her back on her feet with the pull of your hand. 

“Are you okay?”

She cradled the crown with a shaky hand, blinking a couple times to knock off the dizziness.

“..Great.”

You allowed her the pass to go up first, making sure she didn’t lose to gravity again. Curfew set in stone pretty quickly afterwards, any candlelight keeping the room alive blowing off into smoke, welcoming the moon’s seductive glow. 

You find yourself turning towards Sasha again, watching her dream in bliss. It was a bit strange to share a bed like this, almost intimate in a way. Something especially reserved only for family and friendships. Was it unusual to long for a relationship like that..?

When sleep finds you, the question is open ended.

#altruistic #altruistic story #attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan armin #attack on titan angst #attackontitan #aot x reader #aot #aot angst #aot armin #aot armin x reader #armin x reader #armin arlert x reader #armin #armin arlert #armin x you #armin arlert x you #slow burn #aot slow burn #x reader #x reader slow burn

[twothpaste]

fic snippet featuring lucas & porky & the profound disillusionment of realizing you're never gonna get through to a motherfucker 😔

It laid, back then, a hundred n' fifty some-odd feet from the shoreline. No walkways of wood nor metal carved the path. If an audience with the king was what you sought, you'd have to rough it to his throne. Through the soggy stench of rotting cardboard. Drenched facades melting, squelching, and pooling at your heels. Traverse his skyscraper's serpentine spine. Either atop its precarious columns, or beneath its ribcage archways. Today, the big stupid spikes with which he'd adorned the sides've since been weathered away to moundish stumps. In 2 ADD, though? They'd formed a sharklike jaw line in the treacherous muck. Dentition to rival the Dragon's own.

She soared high. Black streak on a gray blanket. Wouldda blotted out the sun with her wings, if it'd been up there to begin with. Even back then, New Pork's desolation had a notorious propensity for overcast weather. Lucas had to wonder whether that was her doing, too.

Lord of the Rings wouldn't make it into his repertoire for a long while. Leder's library had yet to scavenge any copies. The Hobbit, however, was a White Ship stowaway. The old judge kept it in a secret stash, with the rest of the survivors' forsaken tomes. Lucas'd been the first to read it, once the locks were finally broken. He couldn't help but think of it. Here of all places. Stony imagery of a lost mountain kingdom. A darker dragon, hoarding ill-gotten gains. How small he felt. How bitterly humble. To traverse these halls.

The Absolutely Safe Capsule didn't sit atop a gilded pile. Just purple-gray rubble. N' acid rain puddles. N' concrete.

A broad, hungry, window-bound smile greeted him. Upon his arrival.

Lucas didn't humor it with any of his usual salutations. Not even a glance. Just trudged right past the pane, and seated himself upon a closely-nestled boulder. He remembers his chewed nails clawing against the harsh, clammy surface.

"Y'know, Lucas," Porky purred. With no particular forward. Whether the king thought his visitor's silence haughty, amusing - or perhaps even infuriating - he didn't bother to say so. "I've been thinking," he simply announced. Craning his miserable neck, right up to the glass, as if tryin' to catch whatever delightful pout or scowl might grace the hero's dumb, pimply face.

"I bet," said Lucas. Flat as a burnt flapjack. That made Porky grin, too.

"It's sort of funny. Hilarious, even. That your so-called new society's here, to salvage my city."

This came about as outta left field to Lucas as it probably does to you. Which is to say, hardly. Weren't never really conversations, to be had with Porky. Whatever happened to be on his mind, he'd barf it right onto your sneakers. Then glance at you, expectantly, almost innocently. Like he was awfully eager to watch you clean it up.

"My city," he repeated. With a cough. "Which, as you know, I modeled oh-so-painstakingly after our old world."

Lucas turned those slatey eyes of his toward the Capsule. But held his tongue. Again - you can call it patience.

"It's almost as if nothing starts from the ground up. You're always recycling something rotten. Always on the shoulders of man-eating giants. Even if you try to pretend otherwise."

"Yep," Lucas contended. Gray as the rock he perched on. "That's the idea. We're learnin' from the past. Y'couldda stood to do the same."

Porky's prison emitted a raucous cackle. If Lucas were still looking, he'd've seen a curled lip. A snarling smirk.

"Oh. I learned plenty, my friend."

To sigh would be to appease him. Spoiling a bad dog.

"I don't really get why you won't apologize," Lucas mused, instead. "Why y'won't even fake it. There's folks who'd fall for it."

(He prob'ly would've. He thought. Up until three days prior. He'd decline to add that, though. Let Porky guess it for himself.)

"Heh. What can I say? I'm an honest guy. Much more honest than you cheating, stealing, hypocritical hicks give me credit for. Besides -- Agh..! Haahhck…!"

Porky's bone-popping shrug was cut short by a trademark wheezing fit. Lucas waited. Nails grating.

"Ah.. Hagh… Besides.. Little ol' Porky Minch's got nothing to apologize for, anyways. All I've done is reveal the cold, hard truth. Taught you sorry lot a thing'r two 'bout human nature." His royal highness dipped into a mockery of the peasants' lowly drawl. Before extending one hand, to count his points on his wretched fingers. "Uncertainty, control, anger. Frailty. Self-destruction. That's always been the long n' short of it. N' always will be."

"Agree to disagree," Lucas maintained. His low, crackly, teenaged timbre shifting an inch closer to a growling grumble. Porky ate it up. When you've been stuck in an oversized baseball for two years, you tend to develop a ravenous craving for the smallest of crumbs.

"Fine by me. Your descendants'll realize I was right all along. Even if you're too proud to accept it."

"My mom always used to say somethin' 'bout pots n' kettles."

"Ha. So, you admit you're the kettle."

"I'm more of a skillet, I reckon."

"Well, ain't that goddamn charmin'? My mom bashed me over the head with one of those, once. I ever tell ya that story?"

"Y'didn't. M'sorry to hear that."

A snort.

"No you're not."

In lieu of an answer, Lucas could only stare. Impasse was a recent addition to his vocabulary. He'd read it in one of Leder's books. He traced its edges, in his mind's eye. Chewed it, silently, between his tongue and teeth.

#2thprose #osha's eleven #das conk crete baybee

[lonestarbattleship]

"The Finest Hour" by Mark Karvon link

"In the lore of the US Navy, the saga of Fletcher Class destroyer, USS Johnston is legendary for its part in the Battle off Samar during the larger Battle of Leyte Gulf On October 25, 1944.

During the operation to liberate the Philippines, the small naval task force, Taffy 3, was left to provide cover for the invading US Army. The force was made up of 5 light escort carriers and 6 destroyers and destroyer escorts screening for them.

Unbeknownst to the men of Taffy 3, a large Japanese force consisting of 23 ships was headed their way in a surprise attack. The force consisted of 4 battleships (including the largest battleship ever built - Yamato), 6 heavy cruisers, 2 light cruisers and 11 destroyers.

Taffy 3 was badly outnumbered and very much outgunned. It was up to the destroyers and destroyer escorts to protect the carriers at all costs otherwise the marines on the beach would be vulnerable. The ships began laying down a heavy smoke screen. Lieutenant Commander Ernest E. Evans captained the Johnston. Being of Native American ancestry, Lt Commander Evans had the warrior's spirit. He led his ship alone straight into the teeth of the much superior enemy. As the Johnston turned into the oncoming enemy some say he spoke these words over the ship's intercom, "A large Japanese fleet has been contacted. They are fifteen miles away and headed in our direction. They are believed to have four battleships, eight cruisers, and a number of destroyers. This will be a fight against overwhelming odds from which survival cannot be expected. We will do what damage we can." (Some sources credit the latter part of this dramatic announcement tot LCDR Robert Copeland of the Samuel B Roberts).

Johnston dodged shell from the enemy battle cruisers until she could get close enough to hit back. as soon as the range closed to ten miles, Johnston scored damaging hits on the heavy cruiser Kumano. During her five-minute sprint into torpedo range, Johnston fired over 200 rounds at the enemy. She launched all ten of her torpedoes and retired behind a heavy smoke screen. At least one of the torpedoes found the Kumano and blew the bow off the cruiser forcing it to withdraw from the battle.

Johnston did not get away unscathed however and she took three hits from 14 inch shells as well as three from 6 inch shells which destroyed the bridge causing many casualties and Lt Commander Evans to lose 2 fingers and covering him in shrapnel which shredded his shirt. The ship was mangled badly, with dead and dying sailors strewn across her bloody decks.The bridge was rendered useless so Lt Commander Evans went to the aft steering column to conn the ship.

About this time, three of the other ships from Tafffy 3, Destroyers Hoel and Heermen and the destroyer escort Samuel B Roberts, made their charges towards the Japanese fleet. As they went by the Johnston they could see shirtless Lt Commander Evans salute them from the aft steering column as they went by.

After making repairs, Johnston rejoined the fight. The ship fought several duels with much larger ships giving all she could but taking severe damage. Eventually she was surrounded by 7 enemy destroyers and pounded mercilessly. Lt Commander Evans gave the order to abandon ship. He was never heard from again.

Along with Johnston, Hoel, Heermen and Samuel B Roberts were equally fierce during the battle. The Japanese were under the impression they were up against much larger ships in the cruiser class. Aircraft from the carriers also enjoined the fight. Some of the aircraft were not properly armed to attack ships but the heroic pilots still feigned attack to force the unknowing enemy to fire upon them thereby diverting attention from the surface ships. The ferocity of the attack from Taffy 3 sunk or crippled the heavy cruisers Chōkai, Kumano, and Chikuma. This seemingly convinced to the Japanese that they were engaging major fleet units rather than escort carriers and destroyers and the fleet withdrew.

Lt Commander Evans was posthumously awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor for his actions that day. My depiction of the legendary USS Johnston depicts the ship as she charges towards the enemy during her first attack that fateful day.

Prints are available through my website www.markkarvon.com."

#USS Johnston (DD-557) #USS Johnston #Fletcher Class #Destroyer #warship #ship #boat #October #1944 #Battle of Leyte Gulf #world war 2 #world war ii #WWII #WW2 #wwii history #history #united states navy #us navy #navy #usn #u.s. navy #my post #Taffy 3

[toku-fangirl-2015]

Time once again for my bullet journal setup! I decided to step out of my comfort zone once again, this time by attempting a fancy font.

I wanted to do something geeky specifically for this month, because we’re going to our first post-pandemic convention during the last weekend in April. My husband suggested Star Trek, so I decided I had to do the Star Trek font. This was especially challenging for me because my normal handwriting can best be described as “legible” on a good day. I think it came out pretty well, but I did sketch it out, and then outlined in fineliner, and then colored it in. I had an example of the whole alphabet as a reference, which helped a lot.

For the Vulcan salute, I just traced around my hand. It helps that (A) I can do the salute with either hand and (B) I’m left-handed.

Since the lettering takes so much time (and space..no pun intended) I kept the rest of the decorative elements pretty minimal. I added a Starfleet insignia with the science logo for Spock.

I was toying with the idea of doing an all black-and-white setup, but aft I finished the title page I decided it needed some color. I went with red, gold, and blue for engineering, command, and science.

These next two spreads are my monthly trackers. The first page is where I write down fun or exciting things from my day. I usually call it my daily highlights, but I had to go with “Captain’s Log” for this month to fit the theme. I also added Kirk’s command insignia. I did look up if there’s an “official” way to calculate Starfleet dates, but the answer was either “no” or “it’s complicated,” so I just went with a year-dot-month format.

I’m doing Dutch doors for my weekly spreads—I trimmed off the edges of the pages so I’ll be able to see the “to do” and “C2E2” columns no matter what week I’m looking at.

You can kind of see the edge of the Dutch door better in this shot.

#bullet journal #star trek tos #star trek #bujoblr

[hogans-heroes]

Another note about that march I forgot. When they passed that column of retreating Germans and that one young guard who was fanatical was yelling at them and saying hiel hitler and they didn’t even look at him much less salute and damn that was powerful, they were really done. A lot of those old guys had probably fought in the First World War, and the kids were just out of it. And the Luftwaffe officer marching with them realizing it was over when he saw the old men and kids…

#mota spoilers #masters of the air spoilers