#so now there's two sleeping variants in his motions thing.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Bent, not broken 2

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; violence; injury; blood; drugging, tags to be added throughout series.

This is a dark!fic and features the winter soldier and Captain Hydra x reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: An attack leads to the uncovering of decades old secrets when you are taken by the deadliest assassin in the world

Note: Thank you all for your patience with this :) So happy to get part 2 out!

Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

The man with the metal arm brought you a set of plain grey clothes. It was the type of shapeless linen given to patients in a long-term facility or inmates at a prison. When you struggled to lift your right shoulder over your head and winced as your ribs throbbed, he helped you get into the long-sleeved shirt, pulling the fabric down gruffly and backing away.

You shoved your feet into the rubber shoes, and held your arm across your middle, as you stood with shoulders curled forward pathetically. You hobbled to the door as he beckoned to you. You were reluctant to leave the room, fearful of a worse prison ahead. You didn’t have much choice in the matter; resistance was a ridiculous idea given your injuries. 

As it was, you were still too hazy with shock and pain to even think of doing anything other than what you were told. You only hoped that you would have a moment to lay down again. Standing up was torture, even just breathing, and those fleeting moments of sleep were your only relief.

The halls stretched on and on. The twists and turns seemed counterintuitive as he led you along and when you didn’t walk fast enough, he grabbed your arm and dragged you along. You limped and tripped several times but he hardly noticed as he kept his eyes forward.

He brought you out into the sombre grey evening and the gulp of cold air was like a slap in the face. You didn’t know how long it was since you last felt the outside, but it made you tear up. The subtle chill tickled your nose and sent a shiver up your neck. It didn’t feel real, not after the stifling stillness of that white room.

He ushered you over to the boxy black vehicle and opened the backdoor. He nudged you and pointed inside. You looked at him and then around at the barren dirt. You braced the side of the doorframe and grunted as you tried to climb up into the backseat. You gasped and dropped back onto the ground and touched your ribs.

He sniffed and you flinched as his hand came up under your ass and he pushed you up and into the car. You groaned and landed heavily across the seat and kept yourself from sliding onto the floor. You turned back just as he slammed the door.

You coughed and reclined against the seat. You watched him climb in the front, a clear barrier between the front and back of the vehicle. The engine turned and hummed as he played with the controls. A screen above the dash lit up and showed coordinates on a map as several switches lit up below.

The jeep began to move as he steered mechanically away from the building. You peeked back at the grey brick and stretched your legs out as you leaned on the door. You rocked with the motion of the wheels but each jolt made you whimper. You closed your eyes and quelled the panic bubbling in your stomach.

You knew it couldn’t be good. None of it was. Waking up in that closet, being locked up in that white room, and now, your unknown destination hardly meant a mysterious fate. The Captain’s leer returned to you and his ominous words. The way he ordered the masked man around like a dog worried you more.

When you next opened your eyes, just about to doze off, you heard a subtle buzz through the barrier. Next to the screen, a phone was propped up and the timer counted up the minutes in the call. You couldn’t read what you assumed was Russian Cyrillic and you couldn’t quite hear the words coming from the speaker.

You sighed and it caused a stab in your ribs. You closed your eyes again and opted to try to cling onto your fatigue. It wouldn’t matter if you could hear the conversation, likely one-sided as it was, or if you could figure out where that little blinking tag on the map was. None of it made a difference. You could be certain you would not escape those men.

★

Mountains rose with sun through the slits of your eyelids. You batted away the sleepiness and shifted as you looked around at the rocky landscape, the road ahead steep and winding as the tires gripped the dirt. The angle of your ascent made your stomach flip and you leaned into the corner more heavily.

When the terrain plateaued, the mist thick around you, you dared to move and craned to peer around at the obscured lands below. The man drove on along the trail, just wide enough for the wide military vehicle and steered into the open mouth of a cave hidden between tall rocks jutting out from the mountain face.

The darkness consumed all but the glowing screen and symbols in the front of the vehicle and when the tires crunched to a halt, you sat up cautiously. The lights all went out and the front door opened and closed. The door behind you swung open and the rigid metal grip pulled you out. 

Your feet hit the ground harshly and you stumbled against the man’s unwavering posture. The door shut and he sidled you ahead of him between the metal and stone. You couldn’t see in the suffocating blackness of the cave but he walked on without hesitation. His hold on your arm was the only guide you had.

He stopped as the air grew sharp and startlingly cold. Your teeth chattered and you heard the shift of rock against rock. A glowing blue oval appeared, as if floating, and he covered it with his thumb. A low rumble came from deep in the mountain and suddenly the slate before you shifted and a wall of light shone over you.

He shoved you through the door and followed, the metal door sliding closed as the rock wall on the other side clattered back into place. You looked up and down the hallway. The walls were constructed of metal sheets and the atmosphere was just as sterile as that before. Each door was thick and firmly shut, a keypad set into the wall by every frame.

The metal finger pointed you ahead of the masked man and you staggered down the long hall. He led you from behind, a right turn and then to the end. The only open door led to a peculiarly cozy room. The walls were made of rippled wood and lent the air of a cabin as the fireplace burned with artificial flames. There was a long sofa and two plaid armchairs, and the place was decorated like a real home.

Your eyes were drawn to the walnut bar in the corner where the lone figure stood. The Captain no longer sported his helmet or combat suit but wore a pale blue cable knit sweater. He smirked at you as he swirled the dark liquor in a round-bellied bottle and sniffed the neck.

“About time,” he said to the man behind you.

The masked man poked you and grabbed your elbow. He brought you to the bar and pulled a stool close to you. You couldn’t climb up on your own and so he lifted you and plunked you down. He perched on another as the Captain ordered him to.

“You look confused,” the Captain said coolly, “why wouldn’t you be? I can only assume the breadth of explanation offered by my companion.” He winked at the other man who only glared back above his black mask, “he doesn’t say much but you can call him Bucky, he might answer to it.”

He took a slender shot glass and filled it with the nearly black liquid. He turned it slowly and tilted his head as he eyed it. He put the bottle down and leaned an arm on the bar as he watched you.

“Soldat, maybe,” he offered, “he’s a good soldier. And you already know who I am, but sir will suffice.”

You frowned and glanced between him and the other man; Bucky, soldat, whatever he was. Steve chuckled and lifted the shot. He held it up until you looked at it and just as quickly, knocked it back and hissed as he slammed the glass back down.

“You see, me and him, we have different variants of the serum. Similar enough, one of the things we have in common being our tolerance for alcohol. But this…” he flicked the top of the bottle, “a couple shots and the edge starts to blur. If someone like you were to take just a sip, well, you’d be on your ass.”

You shook your head, not quite catching his point. He inhaled and poured another shot. He put it in front of the soldat.

“Loosen up, will ya?” he chided.

The dark-haired man squinted and stared at the glass. He reached up with one hand and took off the mask. He revealed a square jaw and chiseled cheekbones. He drained the shot in a single robotic motion but when he brought the glass back down, it shattered against the bar.

“He has issues with… restraint,” Steve said, “to him, a knock in the head is like a peck on the lips. He doesn’t feel it. If he can’t feel, how can he know what others can?”

“I don’t…” you sniffed.

“He could’ve killed you. He almost did by the looks of it, but he didn’t,” he continued, “there are flickers in him… little things left behind from who he once was, but I don’t think it was mercy.”

You chewed your lip and stayed silent. You took a breath and once more wracked your tender ribs. You folded your arms around you and grimaced.

“Yeah, hurts, doesn’t it?” he taunted, “unfortunately for us, you’ll need lots of rest if you don’t wanna puncture a lung.”

“What do you… mean?” you regretted asking the moment the question was out. It was a dumb question.

He raised his brows and the scar across his eye paled. He rubbed his forehead and chuckled. His blue eyes wandered for just a moment to the plain gray cotton along your shoulders and he shrugged.

“Look, you don’t wanna do this now,” he said, “so I suggest…” he reached under the bar and revealed a bottle of wine then a stemmed glass, “you get comfortable,” he turned and searched the slim drawer at the top, “and try not to think too much.”

He put an orange bottle of pills down beside the glass and filled the crystal. He pushed the wine towards you and uncapped the bottle. He placed two tablets beside the base and popped the lid back on. 

“It will help with the pain,” he assured you, “and it will make it easier to get settled in.”

“I… I don’t what these are,” you scoffed as you pointed at the pills.

“I wouldn’t poison you. I could end it a lot quicker than that,” he tisked, “so, accept my generosity or I’ll shove it down your throat.”

You blanched and stared at him. The other man, Bucky, stood and stopped you from reaching for the wine. Steve looked at him in amusement and watched him jab a finger towards his chest.

“I’m helping her,” Steve said flatly, “but if you have an easier way, by all means.”

Bucky lowered his chin and closed his eyes. He sat and turned to you. He took the pills and held them out to you. You scooped them up shakily and he swiped up the wine, hovering it just before you. You shoved the pills in your mouth and accepted the wine.

His eyes focused on your lips as you sipped and he glanced back at Steve. He put his hand flat in the air, a blunt gesture. The blond laughed and raised his palms defensively.

“He wants me to leave you alone now,” he snickered, “go on then, Buck, find her a bed.”

The soldier stood and waited for you to do the same. You left the wine half-finished and he ushered you back to the door. As he reached it, Steve’s voice rose again.

“Shouldn’t worry so much about me hurting her, soldat,” he called mockingly, “you do that well enough.”

He prodded you through the door and growled under his breath. He directed you down to the corner and pressed his thumb to the keypad. The door slid up suddenly and you flinched. He blocked the doorway behind you as you entered and looked around at the bedroom. Everything you needed awaited you within those walls and if you weren’t in the middle of a mountain, it would seem an entirely ordinary place.

You turned back but all you saw was the metal descend and close you in. You stared at it for a moment then went to the bed. You sat and rubbed your temples. You could feel the pills dredging up your mind and the wine curdling in your stomach. Sleep was tempting as it was your only choice.

★

When you woke next, you felt an odd presence. The room was dark but it was that feeling you got as a child when you left the closet door open and conjured monstrous creatures watching from within. 

You groaned as you propped yourself up on one elbow and reached to the switch above the headboard that turned on the lamps on the side table. The room lit up and you crooked as you found a visitor in your corner. 

It was the soldat, his mask back in place as he stood and watched you. You blinked and looked at the door. It was firmly shut. You kept the blanket over you like a shield as you sat up and tried not to show your fear.

“Hi,” you said softly, “are you… okay?”

His blue eyes searched you but gave nothing away. The mask and the curtain of his hair shrouded his emotion. You just stared back in silence as his lashes flicked subtly, his irises moving up and down the bed. He took a step closer and you winced, squeezing the edge of the blankets.

He neared and lowered himself onto the edge of the bed. He grabbed the top of the blanket and tugged until you let them go. You quivered as he pushed your shoulders down and you were forced flat with your head on the pillows. You gulped and the movement of your throat caught his gaze.

His metal fingers tickled along your neck and sent a chill down your spine. His hand continued down the front of your shirt and he pushed the hem up as the blanket bunched beneath your stomach. You latched onto it in a panic and he tore your hands away. He pressed them to the bed beside you until you went limp.

He raised your shirt higher and framed your ribs with his hands, feeling carefully along your bruised torso. When you exclaimed he retracted his hands and pulled your shirt back down roughly. He shook his head and his brows slanted.

His metal fingertips tapped on his thigh as he thought. You laid frozen on the mattress as his forehead wrinkled and he angled his head as if arguing with himself. His hand shifted suddenly and closed around yours. You let him lift it, terrified to anger him.

He reached to unhook his mask and set it in his lap. He brought your hand to his cheek and leaned his face into your palm as he bent over you. You felt the short stubble stabbing your palm. He took your hand away and swung it back towards him sharply so that you smacked him stiffly. 

You stared at him in confusion and he did it again. Then he let your hand go and pointed at his cheek and nodded. You dropped your hand and did nothing. His blue eyes turned to daggers and his jaw squared. He balled his hand and punched his leg in frustration.

He huffed and picked up his mask. He stood and put it back on. He waved his fingers at you dismissively and stomped to the door. He pressed his thumb to the small indent and it slid open before him. When the door shut, you left the lights on. 

Even with the drugs still coursing through you, sleep didn’t seem likely.

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #winter soldier #dark winter soldier #dark!winter soldiers #bucky barnes x reader #winter soldier x reader #steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #dark fic #fic #dark!fic #series #mcu #au #hydra #hydra!steve rogers #captain hydra #captain america #avengers

[beyondspaceandstars]

Hi!

I've been reading some of your posts and I am a big fan🥰

I was wondering if its okay, maybe you could do a Loki x reader where they were best friends and denied each others feelings all the time and when Loki was brought to the TVA, he found reader there and lots of angst and fluff🥰💞😁

Have a great day😁😁💞💞🥰🥰

Nothing Gold

Relationship: Loki x Reader

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: thank you so much for enjoying me work I am so glad that makes me so happy! thank you so much for the request. I really liked this idea and I think it came out okay - sorry the ending it a bit abrupt! thank you again :)

Masterlist

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Loki had to do a full-on, dramatic as hell, double-take while walking through the TVA library. He had come down to look for a variant file but had apparently ended up finding something else. More specifically — someone else.

You. You. You.

You, his best friend. You, the sweet girl he had a never-ending crush on. You, the one who had just gone missing one day.

Loki could never forget. It was like something wouldn’t let him.

He had invited you around the palace for breakfast before you left his chambers for the night. You two had been up late reading together. You frequently popped over, usually claiming to stay for a few hours, just enough for Loki to read to you some verses of a poetry book, but those hours got longer and longer each time.

Next thing you two knew, it was nearly morning and you needed at least a few hours of sleep in your own bed. He had walked you out, asking you to come back for breakfast in a few hours. You happily agreed, giving him a quick hug before parting. Loki didn’t want to let go. He remembered that detail very well. He wanted to pull you back in his chambers, just hold you for hours. Days. Months. Forever. But he didn’t. He let you go, watching as you made your way back to your modest home. He never realized that would be the last time he saw you.

Well, actually, it technically wasn’t. Because he was staring at you right now. You were at a table near the back of the library, head buried in some files but he could still recognize you. Could always point out that lovely, long hair and those soft, gentle hands. You were always a stark contrast against him.

Loki just watched you for a few moments, completely and utterly confused by the situation. The shock was wearing off and now question after question filled his brain. How did you end up here? What had you done? Were you okay? A million thoughts came over him but his legs had their own agenda. The next thing he knew, he was approaching your table. He almost didn’t know how he got there.

He stood opposite of your sitting form. You weren’t noticing him, apparently very invested in the file you were studying. Loki had to admit, that was quite like you. You were always one to get lost in the words, way deeper than he did.

Eventually, Loki cleared his throat, hoping that’d do something. Slowly, you lifted your head, brows furrowed in confusion as you looked at him from head to toe. You didn’t recognize him, Loki could see it in your eyes. He was just a variant turned agent to you. Something in him felt like it was stabbing his heart over and over again.

"Can I help you with something?" You hesitantly asked but your voice was still so sweet and kind, just as Loki remembered. You were far more patient and soft-spoken than he was.

He said your name like it was the greatest plead but you didn’t react. Loki didn’t know what to do then, realizing you were you but you also…weren’t. His face fell.

You were getting uncomfortable. "I-I’m sorry, I’m not sure I know who that is—,"

"You don’t?" Loki couldn’t help the hurtful gasp he let out.

"Sir, I’m sorry…" Your eyes began searching around frantically. Something was going on. You were getting scared, way past uncomfortable. You wouldn’t look at him anymore.

Loki said your name again, much forceful than the last. You jumped. You weren’t directly responding but Loki could see something in your eyes. He said your name again. Then again. Like it was the only thing he knew. Your eyes met one another intensely, hypnotically.

After maybe the sixth time, you snapped. You jumped out of your seat, breathing heavily, scared, surprised. It had all happened too fast Loki was also taken back. You two were more than just staring at each other. Your wide eyes were taking him in.

"Loki?"

He felt so relieved to hear his name just float off your lips. It was as sweet as he remembered. Like a little lullaby. The stabbing in him stopped.

Loki nodded. "It’s me."

"What…" You looked around as if you had no idea where you were. And maybe you didn’t but Loki hadn’t expected your name to just snap you out of it. This opened a lot of questions for him but he didn’t have time. He raised his hand, cutting off your words.

Loki nodded towards one of the bookshelf aisles further away from everyone. You nodded in understanding, following him down the rows.

Once you were a safe distance away, Loki wasted no time collecting you in his arms, his head buried in your shoulder. You were surprised for a moment at the gesture but then you fell into it naturally, like you had just hugged him yesterday. And really that was how it had felt. But Loki knew better. You had been gone for so long…

"Loki," you mumbled his name, your head pressed into his chest. "What is going on?"

Loki stilled. "Why don’t you tell me what you know."

You scoffed, breaking off the hug. You were a sweet one but Loki was no stranger to your tiny temper. You put distance between you two and Loki allowed it despite how much it hurt.

"What I know?" You repeated, folding your arms. "What I know is that I’m standing in a library with you." You looked around at the space, noting an actual lack of real books. "What kind of library is this anyway? How did I—,"

"Do you remember anything before you got here?"

Your gaze dropped as you studied your shoes. They were some nice black flats but Loki knew that wasn’t your style. You were not the business causal type, usually pleased with the feeling of Asgardian silk gowns.

Something was coming to you as you let out a soft gasp. "I was walking home. We-We had just finished a poem written by that Midgardian… Gosh, what was his name? Winter or something—,"

"Frost," Loki mumbled. "His last name was Frost and you enjoyed his poem about how nothing gold can stay. You found it relatable. I’ll admit, you may have been onto something."

A light had gone on within you. "You thought it was pretentious." Your gaze met Loki’s once more. "I called you a fool and laughed. Then we saw daylight breaking and… and I had to go home. I missed my bed. You wanted breakfast in a few hours. I agreed to come back."

Loki nodded, encouragingly, but your words had fallen off. "What happened next?"

You shook your head, that blank expression washed over you again. "I don’t know."

Loki let out a sigh and leaned back on the shelf. "Do you remember anything after that?"

You looked back down at your outfit. At least the pencil skirt was nice. "Yes," you admitted. "I was hired here. I report on variants to protect the sacred timeline." It sounded to Loki like you were reading a script. What the hell was going on here?

"But you don’t know how you got from Asgard to…here?"

You sighed, a bit annoyed. "How did you get here?"

The snippy temper was back. You were still you. Loki could’ve kissed you, a feeling that had come over him before but was suddenly more intense than ever. He would, he promised himself. He couldn’t leave you again without doing so.

"I had a bit of an…incident."

"Really? You? I never would’ve guessed," you said, the sarcasm on your words dripped heavily. Loki gave quite the dramatic eye roll. You let out a little giggle.

"Yes, well, never mind what got me here, I am here," he said, motioning towards nothing. "And I am assisting with the hunt of a variant."

"You’re helping them?"

Loki scoffed. "Don’t act so surprised." A beat. "I didn’t have much of a choice."

You bit your lip, trying to hold back a smile but failed miserably. Loki had missed this. If he focused really hard, it almost felt like you two were back in Asgard, lounging around, talking about nothing. Teasing one another. His heart was aching.

"What do you know about the variant?" You eventually asked.

Loki glanced away. "It’s me."

"You?"

He shrugged. "Well, a version of me. Another variant."

You slowly crossed the aisle, coming to stand right next to Loki, your shoulders pressed against one another. Loki’s breath hitched just a bit. He would never get used to this.

You asked, "Well, what have ‘you’ done?"

Loki resorted back to his witty humor. "Nothing good as you could assume."

"This mischief of two Lokis is unthinkable."

Loki let out a laugh which you followed suit with. You two were laughing over nothing in this random library in wherever this place was. He could barely understand it and you were absolutely clueless. But the moment of laughter was good, was familiar. Too bad it couldn’t last.

"I’ve missed you," Loki admitted after the laughter had faded out unceremoniously. You looked a bit surprised at the confession.

"Truly?"

He nodded.

You blushed and looked down. "I’d say I missed you too but I don’t feel like we’ve been apart. How long has it been?"

When Loki wasn’t giving an answer, you forced yourself to turn back to him. He was staring at you quite intensely. You shivered under the gaze. It was an expression you hadn’t seen before, he hadn’t allowed you to see. It was one full of love and interest and adornment.

"Too long," was all he said before his lips were on yours. Loki finally took what he had been craving and it was happening in the TVA library. The fucking TVA. Loki’s head was still spinning with worries about this whole thing but, slowly, he got lost in you. In your lips and softness. Your hands grasped his shirt as you deepened the kiss — you. You wanted more from him. And he was happy to give.

His hands caressed your sides lovingly, feeling and holding you in the way he had always dreamed. It was better than anything he could’ve conjured. It felt right and real. Good and… Too good. Too powerful.

An alarm was going off somewhere now. You hadn’t seemed to notice it, still captivated in the kiss, but Loki was aware. He forced you two apart, reluctantly. You looked at him, ready to protest, but before you could ask anything, Loki was placing a hand over your mouth.

Footsteps were approaching. They were coming towards your aisle. Whatever had happened here wasn’t good, something had gone haywire. Had he broken the timeline? Was that even possible here? Loki didn’t know but what he did know was there was an army on the hunt for them. Without thinking twice, he grabbed your hand, looking for an escape route.

"Loki," you finally were able to speak, keeping your voice hushed as you two maneuvered the maze of shelves, "what did we do?"

"We love each other."

"Love?"

Loki stopped despite there being no time to stop. "Am I wrong?"

You didn’t answer. That was all he needed. Now to only get the hell out of here. Loki couldn’t tell if his encounter with the TVA had been a blessing or a cure as he held you close to him, refusing to lose you again to whatever trap this place planned to lay.

#loki oneshot #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson x you #loki laufeyson #loki fic #loki imagine #loki series #mcu loki #loki #loki x reader #loki laufeyson angst #loki laufeyson fluff #loki laufeyson one shot #loki laufeyson imagine #mcu fic #mcu #marvel fanfiction #marvel one shot #marvel #avengers #loki fluff #loki fanfic #loki angst #tva!reader #writing*

[nattyslover]

two wise unknown people

picture NOT mine credit: @castielbarnes

loki x gn!reader

f l u f f

warnings: loki episode 3 spoilers!!, mistakes?

wc: 2k

Today has been a hectic day so far. First started off with a few minute-men,Mobius and Loki alongside you going to Alabama 2050 to try to catch the variant in an apocalypse but went downhill when you got enchanted by the variant and then got passed out. The only thing you can remember was being picked up bridal style and carried through a portal going to the TVA. Once Loki followed the variant and ended up in the TVA he gently woke you up telling you to follow him. Loki grabbed his daggers from the locker hunter b-15 stored.

Following Loki through the halls of the TVA, minute-men on the ground passed out, or they looked passed out. When you caught up with the variant, Loki and her started to fight. Loki got thrown, you tried to stop her before she killed him. Throwing a few punches here and there, and dodging a few you wrapped your legs around her neck and flipped her to the ground were you grabbed Loki’s dagger and brought it to her throat leaving her defenseless. out of breath you opened your mouth to say something but was interrupted by Ravonna and two minute men on both of her sides with those look alike glow sticks. While you looked up at Ravonna, the variant got a hold of the dagger and flipped you on the group about to stab you but Loki came up from behind her and got the TemPad and opened another portal underneath all of you and fell through.

You ended up on a moon called Lamentis-1 2077 where a planet was going to destroy everything and everyone. The TemPad is dead and needs to be charged but in order to charge it, it needs to have a lot of energy. You found out the variant is now named Sylvie or wants to be called that. You still didn’t trust her since she tried to kill you multiple times but yet again you fell in love with a man just like that. You found out that there is an ark where people are getting on in order to escape this coming disaster. You will have to take a train to get there.

Loki disguised himself to look like one of the men guards and took you and Sylvie as “hostages” to Shuroo by orders. One of the men in charge of looking at tickets wasn’t buying all of that and just as your cover was about to be blown, Sylvie touched his arm and enchanted him so you could board the train. And that’s how you ended up here, on the train going to the ark to charge the TemPad to get back to the TVA.

The doors slowly opened, and stepping inside the train there were people that you could tell were high class. The walls were green and there was a small bar in the middle and all around the room were tables with booths. “Good evening, passengers. Hi.” Loki said to everyone while still holding you and Sylvie by the arms. Sylvie sits down in a booth, and you follow by sitting on the opposite side of her.

“Um-“ Loki starts hesitantly, “Uh look, I can't go backwards on a train.” You snickered at that trying to cover it with a cough. Loki looks at you glaring but with a small smile rolling his eyes before Sylvie starts to talk.

“Well, I never sit with my back to the door.” She says, turning her head away.

You scoff, “what? there are doors on both sides.” Loki said, looking around.

“Oh, just sit down.” you told Loki, grabbing his arm and yanking him to your side.

There was little silence before Sylvie spoke up. “FYI that wasn’t even a plan.”

“Oh really?” replied Loki. “plans have multiple steps, dressing as a guard and getting on a train is just doing a thing.” said Sylvie with a scoff.

Loki shifts his jaw, and about to open his mouth but is interrupted by you.

“Oh, are you a bit tired? feel free to, you know, get some rest.” you tell Sylvie after you see her yawning.

She glared at you before grunting and rolling her eyes. “I can't sleep in a place like this.”

“You can’t sleep on a train.?'' Loki asks. “No, I can’t sleep around untrustworthy people.” she replies leaning over the table staring Loki right in the eye. “Oh right, is that me?” “You feel free to take a nap.” “No you can.” “I already told you I can't.” “Right because untrustworthy people.” you had enough of their bickering.

“Shut it!” you whispered and shouted at the pair. they both stopped and looked at you. ”Just shut it.” you tell them again before leaning back and taking a deep breath.

Sylvie looks out the window while Loki keeps staring at you. “What?” he doesn’t respond, he just keeps looking at you. “Why are you staring at me like that?” you ask. He just smiles and taps his shoulder, motioning for you to lay your head on him. You comply and lay your head on his shoulder while he grabs one of your hands and holds it under the table before he kisses your head.

Seconds later you fall into a deep slumber. Loki looks down at you with a loving smile thinking how lucky he is to have you even if your relationship isn’t a romantic one. He tore his gaze from you to Sylvie, “So, where’d you learn to do the..” Loki motioning his hands while he speaks. “You know, the… whatever i-“ “I taught myself” Sylvie interrupted Loki, knowing what he’s asking.

Loki's eyes went wide. “You taught yourself?” he asked in disbelief.

“Yeah I did.”Sylvie replied, shaking her head.

“Do you just go into their minds and project some sort of illusion?”

“It’ll be easier if i just-“ bringing her hands to Loki’s head.

“Enchant me and take the TemPad and lead me out of the train? No thank you.” Loki tells her slapping her hands away but being careful so he doesn’t wake you.

“Well then don’t ask.” Sylvie leans back with an emotionless expression.

“You almost woke up y/n by the way.” Loki informs her, looking down at you sleeping still.

“Did not.” “Did to” “Did not” “Did to” “Not” “To” “Not” “T-“ they were interrupted by you stirring a little bit while still asleep. Loki let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding before getting the last word in. “Did to.”

A lady comes by the table a few seconds later asking if anyone wants champagne. “Champagne?”

“Ah yes, thank you very much.” Loki says to the lady without hesitation.

The lady moves over to Sylvie where she replies with a dull answer, “No i’m good thanks” with no emotion.

“Oh i’ll take hers, thank you” Loki grabs the other glass of champagne and with that the lady walks away. Sylvie looks at Loki with a raised eyebrow, questioning him.

“For y/n when they wake up” Loki says knowing what Sylvie was asking about.

“Cheers,” Loki says, clinking the two glasses together, “To the end of the world.” Loki takes a sip.

“I pity the old woman who chose to die, don’t you think?”

“She was in love.”

“Mmm-, she hated him”

“Maybe love is hate” Sylvie replies back smirking.

Loki conjures a quill and paper. “What was that? ‘love is… love is hate.’”

“Oh, piss off!”

Loki makes the items disappear before going back to the subject of love while pouring your glass of champagne to his.

“Is there a lucky beau waiting for you at the end of this crusade?” Loki asks while raising the glass to his lips.

“Yeah there is actually.” She responds easily.

“Oh,” Loki takes a sip.

“Managed to maintain a quite a serious long-distance relationship with a postman while running across time from one apocalypse to the another.” Sylvie says sarcastically.

Loki chuckles lightly, “Witch charm like that who could resist you?” Loki jokes.

Sylvie smiles a little looking down before looking up at Loki, “How about you? wait, don't answer that you have y/n.”

Loki's eyes went wide,“What? I-I dont- me and y/n we aren’t together.” Loki is a stuttering mess.

“You aren’t? Really? I don't buy that.” Sylvie says slightly surprised. “Y’all are practically in love with each other, I keep catching you staring at them and vice versa. Y’all have the love look in your guys eyes when one looks at the other, quite frankly it’s sickening.” Sylvie says, gagging a little but smiling.

Loki turns red after he hears that. Has he really been that obvious of his staring problem? Has he really been that oblivious to not notice you staring at him? Do you know he stares at you? Do you feel the same as him? No you couldn’t possibly feel the same- could you?

Loki's brain was hurting from overthinking and asking himself over and over again if there is a chance you could feel the same as he does for you. Loki takes a deep breath before looking at you then back up at sylvie.

“Why don’t you tell them?” Sylvie asks before he has a chance to speak.

Loki thinks for a moment, remembering something he read that stuck with him, “‘Friendship Or Love... It's really hard to choose, though sometimes friendship ends in love. If romance ends, it's hard to return to friendship.’ but also ‘Over thinking ruins you, ruins the situation, twists things around and just makes everything much worse than what it actually is’ do you know the two people who said that?”

Sylvie shakes her head no. “Two wise unknown people said that. Not knowing that their words would relate to almost everyone who is in love with their best friend but doesn’t want to ruin the friendship if something happens.” Loki is rubbing his thumb on your hand looking down at your sleeping figure. “To answer your question ‘why don’t I tell them?’ it’s because I overthink and because I don’t want to ruin something so great just because I want something more. I would rather stay friends forever than get into a relationship not knowing if it will last forever.” Loki says honestly.

Sylvie doesn’t say anything for a few seconds and just looks between you and Loki. “That's with every relationship.” Loki looks up, encouraging her to continue. “Whether it's friendship or a romantic relationship you don’t know if it will last forever. no one does.” Sylvie laughs a little , “Not even the time keepers. you know why? because they can’t decide your future for you, no one can, only you.”

“The timekeepers know everything.”

“Do they? Then why are you here? They didn’t know you would change the timeline and come here did they? The time keepers didn’t plan on having you at the TVA. So who says they know everyone's futures? Because from the looks of it, they don’t know everything that happens in the future.” Sylvie finished with a sigh.

Loki stares at Sylvie, surprised that they had this conversation with each other even though not even 24 hours ago they were trying to kill each other and now they are talking about love and being honest and open.

Sylvie shakes her head before clearing her throat, “I need to get rest so you do your thing and i’ll do mine got it?” Loki nods and Sylvie gets comfortable and closes her eyes.

Loki just sits there looking at you before him, getting comfortable himself with your head still on his shoulder, closing his eyes and letting rest take over him in a matter of seconds.

You open your eyes looking at Sylvie before looking at Loki, slightly shocked because of two things. One they had a full conversation that didn’t include any arguing or childlike behavior and two you just heard your best friend talk about his love for you.

#loki #loki x y/n #loki x you #loki x reader #loki layfeyson x reader #loki layfeyson imagine #loki series #loki odison x reader #loki layfeyson x you #mcu loki #loki layfeyson #loki odinson #loki imagine #loki fanfic #loki fluff #loki smut

[bingoluka]

Need You

Summary: After a case gone wrong, and an injury left unattended, Loki realizes that even Gods need somebody.

Notes: Includes wound depiction and good ole' angst! Also a lil' Wowki but I'm a little bitch baby.

...

When he said it hurt like hell, it hurt like hell.

Each case tended to go wrong in its own unique and terrible way. Whether one of them leaves with a torn shirt and headache, or a deep gash and a broken spirit, one thing was certain; that Mobius and Loki looked out for each other.

Though, Loki would hardly admit he had grown quite fond of the man he called his partner.

Beyond that, he would hardly admit when he really, truly needed his help. He was independent, he knew this, and sometimes asking for the help or pity of another more than once seemed too much mental strain- for both him and whoever had the bad fortune of being alongside him. He hadn't realized the severity of the injury at the time, as a large piece of metal tore away at his abdomen while swimming from an impending tsunami. His magic had already begun to heal him, fixing the initial trauma while the freezing water numbed him.

He has assumed the blood in the water hadn't been his.

Now there he was, wandering aimlessly along the TVA corridors, wishing desperately he could lay his inhibitions to rest all the while sparing his friend the worry. Though, he knew it was unlikely.

The air felt cold against his skin, each step sending a fiery blast of pain across his stomach and up to his back. He grimaced. Pathetic, he thought to himself weakly. Who are you without your power?

"Loki? Loki!"

His voice sounded distant at first, so much he grew concerned he had never heard it at all. A sharp exhale left Loki's mouth as another pang sent shockwaves through his body.

"Oh no- oh no-!"

He stumbled, his legs crossing wildly over each other and he fell into the wall next to him. He began to sink to his knees, the pain becoming overpowering as he fought to stay present. How was it getting worse?

He realized then the wound no longer felt cold. It felt hot, burning as fresh blood spilled from the wound. Loki realized then how little healing had taken place.

"Loki? Hey, hey look at me."

Mobius's voice was soft, calming as it was fearful. Loki wanted to melt into the other, hide from the agony.

"I-I'm sorry," he gasped. "I thought it had healed- I thought- I thought it wasn't this bad-"

"Shh," he whispered, keeping a steady hand on Loki's back. "Loki, can you walk?"

Loki stopped for a moment, his eyes falling to the ground in shame. His breathing was already erratic, jumbling his thoughts and rationality to the point he wasn't sure of anything. He looked up at Mobius now, his eyes scanning his for a sign.

"Come on."

Loki hadn't realized how many people were there with them. Maybe it was adrenaline, or his partial loss of vision from the wound, either way, the voices began to filter in at that moment. Agents and hunters, some workers he had never seen all gathered around them. Mobius had taken one side, while a hunter had him on the other, leading him out of the hall when his body began to go limp. He fought against it, begging himself to stay upright just long enough to prove he was capable. But he wasn't, and they knew this. His knees buckled beneath him, sending both him and the other two staggering forward with an "oh-!"

He could feel them ease him to the ground, pain shooting through him again as he made contact with the floor- causing him to cry out.

"We need to address the wounds here," Mobius said, his voice sharp and heavy. "He's deteriorating, either we let him use magic or we heal him ourselves."

"We can't just let that happen, we have to be outside of the TVA," someone said. "We need to take him somewhere else."

As they spoke, others had taken to pressing against his wound to suppress the bleeding. At first, it was agony. But after a while, he felt a warmth come over his body, a peace he had never felt as the pain melted away. He knew it wasn't supposed to happen, Mobius frantically calling his name being a sure sign, but the relief was something he couldn't deny.

"Loki! Stay with us, come on-"

Before he slipped into sleep, the last thing he saw was Mobius over him, eyes wide and brimming with tears. God, he was tired. But he regretting falling asleep all the same.

...

"If I would've known he was hurt, I wouldn't have taken my eyes off him, what more is there to understand?"

Mobius looked at Renslayer for a moment. Defiance wasn't typically in his nature, though he'll admit his actions spoke otherwise. He was more a calm deviant, not driven by a harsh nature but rather a calm and collected one. She sighed, resting her pointer and thumb on the bridge of her nose.

"I know, I know. But we can't have events like that happen, Mobius. Half our team was distracted, imagine if the variant had struck then?"

"You know I respect you, Renslayer. I really do, I admire you and you know that. But this just seems wrong, he's still a person," Mobius said, frowning. "I know in the grander scheme of things we have a lot to worry about but I saw humanity out there. A collective force of good working toward an unspoken goal."

"Which is?"

"Making sure variant or not, we're taking care of each other."

...

Loki woke on the couch that night.

Wait, couch?

He had expected to still be on the floor. Though he knew Mobius would never, it wasn't out of the picture that another agent might let him stay on the ground. After all, they weren't too fond of him. He went to stretch, the sharp pains from his stomach stopping him in his tracks as he remembered why he was there.

The room was dark, dark enough that beyond his fixed point on the couch, Loki could hardly see a thing. A voice pierced the air, causing him to jump.

"Hey, how are you feeling?"

As Loki realized who it was, he sank back into the couch.

"Fine," he mumbled. Mobius raised an eyebrow.

"Really? You didn't seem too fine back there when you were bleeding out in the halls of the TVA."

"Well, I was," Loki snapped, staring up at the ceiling. He realized how foolish he sounded, but at that point, he didn't care.

"Loki, what happened on that mission?" Mobius asked gently, ignoring the other's outburst. Loki sighed a bit, trying to shift his position.

"I didn't-" he cut himself off with a wince as he moved wrong, the pain burning at first, then turning into a dull ache. Mobius looked down at him worriedly.

"I didn't think it was that bad," he said hurriedly. "I was so cold from the water I didn't feel it. I just assumed the blood hadn't been mine."

It was grim. The idea of the blood in the water was so common for that moment, so anticipated that he had nearly bled out yet speculated it was from somebody else. It brought into focus the severity of even human apocalypses.

"But the blood," Mobius said, frowning. "I should have been able to see it on your shirt when we got back. I didn't see any."

"My magic had healed it for the most part," Loki said. "Just not enough. Once I returned it must've begun to reverse."

As Loki spoke, he noticed Mobius reaching for the hem of his shirt. He quickly blocked his hand with an offended "Hey." Mobius chuckled, shaking his head.

"I'm just trying to see it, come on."

"You don't need to," Loki glared. But of course his efforts didn't deter Mobius, who kept his steady gaze.

"Loki," he said gently. "Come on, let me see."

Loki sighed, wordlessly lifting the hem of his shirt to reveal the array of wounds, accented by the much larger wound that ran across the bottom of his abdomen. He heard Mobius's breath catch.

"Geez..." He murmured, gently brushing a finger across the uninjured skin, which even then was sore.

"Why didn't you say anything?" He asked sadly. Loki cast his eyes to the side.

"An unspoken rule amongst warriors in Asgard was to each their own. It wasn't uncommon to receive wounds in battle, it was seen as noble to keep them to yourself."

"Well, that's the dumbest thing I've ever heard," Mobius said with raised eyebrows. He added a hasty, "No offense."

"No, I agree. They were all morons," he said lightheartedly.

Mobius laughed now, bowing his head as he did so. Loki smiled a bit, still somewhat troubled by the pain but not enough to mention it.

"This is your apartment, then?" He said, trying to initiate conversation so Mobius wouldn't see as he began to sit up.

"Hey, not so fast," Mobius said, placing a hand on the small of Loki's back. "Your powers may be back, but you have a ways to go."

"I'm alright, really."

"I'm beginning to think that phrase holds less ethos each time I hear it."

Loki huffed, barely managing to sit all the way up. He looked around the room as his eyes adjusted. It was a small apartment, most of his items being placed in the living area. Books, dusty empty bottles, wooden furniture accented with water stains and loose change. The carpet was plush, he noticed, like something you would see from the nineties. It was all very cozy and welcoming.

"Sorry about the mess," he said, assuming that's what Loki had been looking at. "I didn't really have time to clean."

"Mess?" Loki frowned. "Mobius, you bring me into your home and you really assume I'm going to judge the state of it?"

"Well, to be fair, I don't get a lot of visitors," he smiled. "Now you need some rest, alright?"

If Loki had just an ounce more strength, he would've shot back some snarky response. This time, however, he found himself too tired to think of one, so instead, he flashed a quick smile.

"I'll be here if you need me."

If you need me.

Loki pondered on the words for a while. Maybe it was the way he said it, or the weariness finally catching up with him. Before he never would have admitted he need someone, much less someone with no relation to him. But in that darkened room he gathered he had a change of heart. As he felt himself slowly fading into the warm embrace of sleep, he felt a hand run across his head, gently brushing his unkempt hair back in a stroking motion. He wanted to open his eyes, to see Mobius, but he stayed still just long enough to hear the words,

"Glad you're alright, Lokes."

Before contently falling asleep.

#self indulgent fic #loki #loki series #loki show #angst #loki angst #wowki #lokius #wowki fluff #wowki angst #i wrote this on my phone #in my notes app #hurt comfort #whump

[bepp-ers]

Pretty little lie | S. Todoroki X Reader

“[Name]-san, it is a pleasure to meet you.”

Currently, [Name] was not happy. Why?

Her parents had only gone and made an arranged marriage for her! To some goddamn celery stick of a guy!

Her blood boiled just remembering how she found out.

-

On the balcony of a large bedroom, several potted plants waved idly in the breeze, echoing [Name] ‘s feelings. 

Everything was peaceful, and every now and again she would activate her quirk to shoot some life into one of the plants and smile as it lifted a leaf to her, almost akin to a cat’s paw.

Then she was called into the main dining room. Not a good sign to start with, but what was coming next was much much worse.

“[Name], you’re here.” Her mother droned, not particularly caring as usual.

Her father did his best to act interested, and motioned for her to sit on a cushion. “Now, you’ve turned 18 recently and we have gone ahead and made a decision.”

[Name] sighed. “What, am I working as a botanist like I’ve wanted to for years?”

Her father scowled. “Enough of that cheek, young lady. You are getting married, as a matter of fact.”

The girl choked on her words and spluttered into panic. 

“I- you- what the fuck?!” “[Name]! Language!” “Sorry, but what the hell?! You can’t just marry me off to some random guy! This is a joke, tell me it’s a joke!”

Her mother sipped her drink and rolled her eyes.

“Grow up. The young man is part of a wealthy family and has a strong quirk. You should consider yourself lucky.”

[Name] stood up, slamming her drink on the table. 

“I already have a partner. And I don’t want to get married until I know I’m ready. I’m not going through with it.”

“Don’t be difficult. It’s already arranged. His name is Todoroki Shouto, and you are due to meet him next week, so I’d get those manners in check, miss.”

[Name] simply glared at them both and left the room, collapsing into her own bed after storming away.

Fumbling with her phone, she searched through her contacts before clicking on one of them.

“Hey fuzzy, you been too obsessed with those plants to talk to me?”

[Name] smiled weakly at the nickname, and sighed. “No... I’m afraid I’ve got bad news.”

“[Name] have you been crying? What’s going on?” “My parents.... have arranged a marriage for me. Crazy, right?”

She heard a yelp from the other end and frantic noises. “Wha- no! They can’t! Are they crazy?! You have a life! [Name] tell me you’re not going through with it?!”

She chuckled dryly. 

“I wish it were that simple. I’m meeting the guy next week. I’m sorry sugar, I’ll try to figure something out but who knows when I’ll be able to talk to you again? I’m so sorry...”

“No, no, I’m sorry for getting mad. I’ll get you out of there somehow, even if it takes a year. You’ll be with me finally and there’ll be no forced feelings. Oh fuzzy, baby, darling, we’ll manage.”

-

They were not, in fact, managing as [Name] was currently face to face with her fiancé and his scary-looking father. 

Now, [Name] had to admit he was decently good-looking, but nowhere near as perfect as her current partner, and he looked so dead inside. Like he would rather be anywhere else.

‘Feeling’s mutual buddy.’

“[Name]-san, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” The towering man gave a small bow and motioned for [Name]’s parents to follow him.

“Now, we’ll be leaving you two here to get to know each other better. Goodbye, Shouto, [Name]-san.”

The tall redhead man accompanied [Name]’s own parents out of the room, and soon it was just [Name] and uh... Todoroki? She barely remembered his name. Great start.

[Name] sighed and immediately flopped on one of the cushions, pulling out her phone and setting down her bags so that she could talk to her significant other.

“I’m just saying, I hate this, you probably hate this, don’t you have better things you could be doing?” She asked, scrolling through her contacts.

“Not particularly.” Wow, dead conversation much?

“Ri-i-ight. Well then, I guess I’m off.”

He gave her a hint of a confused look and [Name] pointed to her phone. “I have a partner. I don’t wanna marry you, no offense so I’m just going to go outside and call them. Then I’m gonna find my parents, and-”

“-They didn’t tell you?” He interrupted.

“Heh?” 

He frowned even more if that were possible. “You’re staying here. With me. Our parents decided it would be best, and they are all at your residence.”

[Name]’s phone clattered to the floor as she stood there, frozen.

“W-what?!”

“If you sit down, I can explain if you’d like.” He offered, though it sounded like a command more than anything.

“No, no, I thought my parents were assholes before, but--” She rambled, sitting down dejectedly on the cushion.

“Oh.” [Name] sighed. “What now?”

“Your phone, it’s...”

[Name] snatched her phone and gave an exasperated sigh. “Fuck. Can this get any better?” 

She looked down at the phone, completely shattered from being dropped onto traditional wooden floors.

“Now how the hell am I supposed to contact anyone..? I don’t remember numbers...” She slumped forwards, pushing the phone to one side.

Todoroki’s eyes trailed over the forlorn girl, and he smiled a bit.

“We’ll get you a new one.” “You realise I can’t talk to my partner now? Oh my god just... just.... ugh, I don’t know!”

“You seem tense. We have a lovely garden if you’d like to calm down.” Thinking quickly, [Name] sighed and nodded.

“Sure, I guess. Thanks.” 

-

It was a lovely garden, [Name] supposed, and as she stared at the Koi fish her mind calculated a plan.

“It is nice out here, I’ll admit...” She stood up, stretching a bit. Todoroki’s affection for the girl was growing every moment, so he was glad to hear it.

“Hey, what are those plants there?” She pointed to the flowers near the door.

“Hm? Oh, they’re an imported variant of rose. My mother was fond of them.” “I’ll bet, they’re really pretty.” 

“Hey, [Name]-chan c’mere a second.” She turned and trotted closer to him, so close to being able to achieve her plan.

Wordlessly, he plucked a flower and brought it up to [Name]’s hair, intertwining it with the locks so that it framed her face.

“There. It suits you.” He smiled warmly, thankful that his mother had chosen  [Name] for him.

“Thanks...” [Name] forced a warm smile. “You know, Todoroki-kun...” She leant in a little closer, a small smile across her lips.

“Hm?” “Everything here is so nice, are you sure it’s okay for me to just... be here?” “Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I don’t know. Just thinking out loud. I’m sorry for being annoyed at you earlier, I was certain this would be another awful idea by my parents.” “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“Thanks. Should we go inside? I want to see where I’ll be staying.” “Of course.”

-

“Wow. This sure is fancy.” “Mm, if you didn’t like it you could have picked another room, or even shared mine, but it seems you like this one?” “Yeah, it’s really nice. Hey would you do me a favour?”

“Do you want me to fetch your bags?” “Please?” [Name] batted her eyelashes and smiled as much as she could without vomiting.

“I’ll be back in a moment.”

-

For the rest of the evening, [Name] was not allowed to leave Todoroki’s side. It was torturous, the way he looked at her with such fondness seeing nothing wrong with the situation.

In the evening, [Name] feigned tiredness and requested to be left alone to sleep. In reality she was plotting her escape. “I’ll see you in the morning, Todoroki-kun. G’night.” “Are you sure you don’t need anything else?” “Positive, now quit fussing. Good night.” 

The moment he left the room, [Name] ran over to the window and opened it quietly, looking over to a nearby tree.

“Here, let me get out of this house.” She whispered, and the branched curled over to her. Hopping on, she sank down to the ground and began running.

- 

Meanwhile, Todoroki had headed to his own room, when he saw one of [Name]’s bags on his floor.

He walked back over to her room and knocked, and walked in when he heard no answer.

“[Name]-chan you left this --  [Name]?!” He dropped the bags and sprinted to the window, where he saw [Name]‘s receding figure.

“[Name]!!” He yelled, and for a moment she stopped and turned.

“Sorry honey, but I’ve got a partner! I don’t want any part in this!” 

She had barely ran another few feet when the ground underneath her was covered in ice, and she stumbled forwards.

Todoroki was upon her before she could even yell, yanking her up by the arm, a furious scowl on his face.

“What the hell are you doing? I thought... I thought you were happy with this arrangement?” “Obviously not! Let go of me!”

She struggled, but though the ice had now dissapeared she could not remove herself from his grip.

“This is happening- you cannot stop us from being together. Not after everything we went through to get you here.” He hissed as he dragged her back to the house.

“You’re staying. It’s not your decision to make, darling. I’ll make sure of that.”

-

haha this has been in my drafts for months. okay that’s enough of bnha yay obey me shit incoming love yall sorry this one took forever aha

#yandere bnha #bnhaxreader #yandere bnha x reader #shoto todoroki #yandere todoroki #this took so long #yandere #yandere mha #yandere x reader

[mochegato]

Pixie Spy

Chapter 4

Chapter 1     Chapter 2     Chapter 3

Marinette’s eyes fluttered open after only a few hours of sleep.  It wasn’t enough, but she hadn’t gotten enough sleep in years.  At this point, she didn’t think her body would let her sleep a healthy amount, it was too programmed to go without.  One day, after they defeated Hawkmoth and she had moved away from Paris, she was going to sleep for a week… after she cried for two weeks straight, or maybe she would alternate the two.  She was going to buy the plushest bed she could afford, or likely Adrien could afford since she barely had enough money to cover groceries, and sleep in every single day in that bed.

Until then, rest was minimal and often, like last night, fitful to say the least.  She had tried to calm down enough to sleep comfortably, but calming down actually seemed to be part of the problem.  To make up for the adrenaline of the night before wearing off and her body calming, her mind started racing.  With no immediate threats to deal with, anxiety was setting in and taking over, coming up with new and better things to worry about because fuck you, that’s why. Anxiety needs no reason.  It certainly never had for her.

She quietly slid out of bed careful not to move too quickly and accidentally wake up Adrien or the kwamis.  She walked out onto the balcony seeking the morning sun on her face, hoping the new day’s light might bring her some peace.  She stared out at the morning colors blending from pink to orange to yellow to varying variants of blue.  She scanned over the gorgeous colors until her mind caught on one particular shade of blue, reminding her of bright blue eyes filled with concern and determination.  

She twisted to face away from the sky and lean against the balcony grabbing it tightly and relaxing her grip over and over again.  He said he wanted to help and she wanted to let him, which was ridiculous because he was Red Hood.  He was the most violent of Gotham’s vigilantes.  She didn’t know too much about the bats, that was Alya’s area, but she knew at least that much.  He was the last one they should trust to help.  So why was she still questioning it?  Why did she feel like she could trust him?  Her instincts on people were usually good, but he made her mind go haywire and she didn’t trust herself to be impartial when it came to him.  

“Argggg” she groaned running her hands over her face and fisting her hands in her hair.  Everything felt wrong.  She needed something to distract her anxiety so it wouldn’t take over completely and drag her down into a never-ending cycle of could-have and should-have and why-didn’t-I’s.  More accurately, she needed to hit something, a lot and hard.  She quietly changed into workout gear and quickly wrapped up her hands and feet before padding over to the sparring area.  She stalked over to the dummy glaring at it like it was the cause of all of her problems.  She started practicing as she ran through the prominent events from her previous night.

“You don’t seem excited to be here.”  Jab.

“Well aren’t you a ray of sunshine.”  Jab. Jab.

“I’m Jason.” Jab. Hook.

“Wanna Dance?” Jab. Cross. Hook.

“Was the occasion to look stunning?” Jab. Jab. Palm strike. Knee.

“You’re Jason Todd.” Hook. Punch. Jab. Punch. Uppercut.

“I have to go.” Jab.  Elbow strike. Palm strike.

“Are you okay?” Double side punch. Elbow strike.

“I can help.” Kick.  Knee. Kick.

“You left some valuable details out.” Side kick. Straight cross. Jab. Jab. Jab.

“You wanted me to meet the Waynes.” Jab. Jab. Right hook.

“You’re still a kid, you should have fun.”  Double side punch. Crescent kick.

“I don’t enjoy Hell.  DO NOT make me go back.” Jab. Hook kick. Straight cross.

“Change your mind?” Jab.  Left hook. Crescent kick.

“Your life is supposed to be more than the fucking suit.” Palm strike. Elbow strike. Hook kick.

“Dramatic much?” Punch. Punch. Front kick leading to a back flip.

“That rule needs to be finessed.”  Uppercut.  Uppercut. Jab.  Right hook.

“He can help.” Side kick. Elbow strike. Crescent kick. Jab.

“You kids really do need help.” Double side punch. Uppercut. Left hook.

“You won’t be able to move on.” Elbow strike. Jab. Uppercut.

“Think about what I said.” Knee. Palm strike. Jab.

“I can help.” Uppercut.  Uppercut. Left hook. Right hook.

“I can help.” Hammer fist. Side kick. Knife hands. Back kick.

“I can help.” Roundhouse Kick. Jumping downward punch.

She let the velocity of the punch to carry her to the floor.  She landed in a crouch and collapsed to her hands and knees panting for breath, sweat dripping on the floor pads.  Instead of helping clear her head, the practice had just made everything worse. God, she was too tired to deal with this.  She was too tired to think and this anxiety induced doubt was giving her a headache.  She needed to think clearly, but she was too tired to think clearly, and until they defeated Hawkmoth she wouldn’t be able to get the sleep she so desperately needed, so… round and round she’d go, where she’d stop not even Hawkmoth knew.  

She fought the flinch that wanted appear when she heard shuffling near her and glanced up just enough to notice bare feet and the bottoms of Adrien’s pajamas as he crouched next to her.  He had turned sneaking up on her into a game and despite knowing he wasn’t trying to do that this time, she refused to give him that win.  “Hey Marinette, you okay?” Adrien asked gently, his voice laced with concern as he laid a hand on her shoulder.  

Marinette nodded but continued looking down at the mat instead of at him, avoiding his eyes.  She didn’t want to talk about the doubts her anxiety was pushing.  The logical part of her brain knew that talking about her doubts would help her figure out what was really a concern and what was just the anxiety, which is exactly what she needed.  But the illogical part of her brain, the part that anxiety had dominion over, thought that if she didn’t talk about it, she would be able to pretend like it never existed, that it would all dissolve like one of Alya’s illusions.  And the illogical side knew that if she spoke her feelings out loud, that would speak them into existence, making them impossible to box up and bury somewhere until she was better equipped to ignore it, like after she died.  And the illogical part knew if she had to confront all her doubts right now she would die.

As is often the case, the illogical part of her brain was far more persuasive than the logical part, offering the comfort of avoidance rather than the terror of confrontation the logical part was pushing.  But then again, Adrien always had a way of quieting the illogical part without even trying.  All of her friends did.

“You want to talk about it?  Or just want to keep imagining the dummy is Constantine and continue to beat the shit out of it?” Adrien prompted her with a gentle smile. She looked up at him as she stood back up on shaky legs.

She shook her head, “I’m wasn’t.  I’m still deciding how upset I am with Constantine. I mean, we knew it was coming.  I wasn’t expecting him to make us waste two weeks so he could do it though.”  She growled bitterly as she grabbed a water bottle from the refrigerator and walked over to bench next to the sparring mat.  She sat and let her breathing slow for a moment before continuing on.

“Don’t get me wrong.  I was FURIOUS when I thought he did it to avoid an ex… and fuck, I might still be.  I’m too tired to tell anymore.” She gave a tired sigh and ran her hand through her hair that was now plastered to her face.  “But that’s not why he did it.  He saw where we were going to end up and the asshole wanted to redirect us.  He did it to protect us.  And I… I would have done the same so… I don’t know.  It seems like that should make a difference.”

“We are not fucking children.  We don’t need that motherfucker protecting us.  We know what we are doing and we are handling it just fine.  There is no immediate threat that warranted that.” Adrien growled.  He gave her a wicked smile, “And I am never too tired to be a vindictive dick.”

She rolled her eyes, “You’ve been spending too much time with Felix.” She looked away and gave a humorless chuckle.  “Honestly?  I expected it to be worse.  I prepared for so much worse.  I’m relieved this is all it was.  I expected him to go directly to the Justice League or one of the other groups he works with and say something like ‘Hey, don’t go to Paris for… reasons.  And don’t bring your full armory.’  Get them all involved.  And that was if he didn’t just straight out tell them about what is going on.”

Adrien glared at her, “Seriously?  He knew we didn’t want them involved and he did it anyway.  He got them involved.  We trusted him and he broke his promise to us.  I don’t care why he did it or if it could have been worse, he did it.”

“But he didn’t break his promise,” she noted tiredly.  “He orchestrated all of that for us so he wouldn’t break it… He bent his word just enough to keep from breaking it and making it unforgivable.  But he still left us in control and is letting us make the decision for what happens next.  He didn’t completely fuck us over and he easily could have.”

“We,” he motioned between them to indicate the two of them, “have very different definitions of unforgivable.  He didn’t keep his word.  He did betray us.  He manipulated us and the situation to bring in the Justice League.  He did exactly what we told him not to do.  He ignored our decision so he could take away control.  We don’t control this, he caused it.  And on top of everything else, we wasted two weeks so he could betray us.  He could have at least had the decency to betray us without wasting our time.”

She shook her head, “No, he moved one piece in the sequence. One piece that allows the option to follow our current path OR choose a new one.  We define the new path.  It is up to us to decide if we will redirect the pieces back to the original path or let the new sequence take effect.”

“This is not dominoes.”

“It is.  Dominoes, the butterfly effect, whatever you want to call it, that’s life.  That’s everything that happens in our lives, everyone’s lives.  One change now changes what happens in the future.  You know that.  And if you need a reminder, I’m sure Alix would be more than willing to go over it with you, how one decision changes everything.  It is her job to identify the piece that will make the sequence turn out ideally.” Adrien growled at that but glanced away. She continued, “But he’s letting us decide to accept the help or not.  He’s letting us decide the next move.  He made his move, now it’s our turn.”

“So you’re just going to forgive him?  Let him off for lying to us, manipulating us, allowing Paris to suffer while he played his little game of dominoes?” Adrien accused, voice rising as he did.

Marinette sighed deeply, looking down at nothing in particular, “No, I just… I guess I’m too tired to fight this particular fight. You are welcome to though.  I won’t stop you from hanging him over the side of the building for a while.  But, yeah… the time.  The lost time.  And the last few weeks were…” she paused letting out another long sigh, looking up to the ceiling and hitting her head gently on the wall as she remembered the events of the last few weeks, “well they would have happened regardless, but…” she tapered off, not sure how to finish the sentence.

“But the oncoming ones might not have to happen and you know with the way akumas and amoks have been going lately, they will probably be just as bad.”  Adrien fumed.

He looked over to her as he vented and finally noticed how tired she looked.  He studied her closely.  She looked like she had relaxed but he knew her well enough to know her tells, the slight tension in her shoulders, the minute tightening around her eyes, the slightly strained smile that nobody who didn’t know her would think was anything less than sincere.  

He was still upset with Constantine and he was definitely going to have a discussion with him next time he saw him, a discussion that involved a few of the moves Marinette had demonstrated on the dummy earlier.  But his anger wasn’t helping Marinette and that was the primary focus for him.  “But until then, we need to focus on preparing for the aftermath of Constantine’s intervention.”

“I’m not worried, it’s just Batman.  We can handle him,” she gave him a smile that was meant to reassure but didn’t have the emotion behind it.  “Thank God it isn’t the rest of them.  Honestly, this is the best case scenario.  It’s just the bats and now we know their real identities.  That is going to massively enhance our intel on them.  We can discover Bruce Wayne’s pressure points as well as Batman’s, and use them to get him to back off.”

Adrien nodded, “A project for Alya and Chloe. We can let them know when they come over later.” He noted she still hadn’t really relaxed.  Her shoulders and smile still tense, so the Constantine issue wasn’t what was causing her to feel so distressed.  “So, if this impromptu session isn’t about Constantine… Did something else happen last night?  Was it that bad?”

She suddenly looked far more tired than she was a few moments before, her shoulders lowering into a slump. “No, the night was amazing actually,” she said quietly.

“So what's the problem? Why were you in here working out your frustrations instead of sleeping?”

“Because it was so amazing,” she sighed defeated. Logical finally defeated illogical as she started dumping everything she was feeling onto Adrien.  “Because it was great.  I was having fun and I really wanted to stay there.  It made me want to have more.  But I can't have that.  We can't have that,” she motioned between the two of them.  “We can't even leave Paris,” she chuckled bitterly. “It was just a reminder that we’re stuck.”

“You know, we had the horse miraculous. You could go someplace else for school and then come back when you need to.” Adrien offered halfheartedly.  He knew this argument.  They’d had it enough to know she was right.  She wouldn’t give in and neither would he.  Neither of them would abandon the other to escape alone.  They were both stuck.  They didn’t really have any options until they defeated Hawkmoth. But it still felt good to say it out loud, pretend like they did.  Sometimes it was her offering the escape options, sometimes it was him.  But they both knew that neither of them would accept it.

“But then only one of us gets to escape and I’m not leaving you behind,” she looked him in the eye with a determined look to make sure he understood how serious he was.  When he nodded at her letting her know he understood, she looked away to look at nothing. “I just, I feel like I can't move. Every move I make is wrong. I’m confined.  I can’t do anything.  Neither one of us can do anything.  I can’t study fashion, you can’t study teaching.  We can’t start our future.  Hawkmoth won't let us.  He’s keeping us right here, in this moment in time and we can’t break out of it.” She said tugging gently on her hair as she spoke.  “And last night just reminded me of that.  That I’m stuck here, that my priority isn’t me, can’t be me or my future… my happiness.”

He ran his hands over her shoulders and upper arms trying to bring her focus back to him, speaking in calm tones to ground her, “That’s what this whole thing was about though, wasn’t it?  Why we let the bastard help in the first place… to tip the balance, to end this, to break out.”  He smiled gently at her again continuing with the well-established script of this conversation.

“You know, if you can’t study fashion right now, maybe you can delay it.  You can keep doing commissions and bulking up your portfolio,” she opened her mouth to object but he beat her to it, already knowing her response.  “I could help you financially until this all is over.  You could move in with me so you don’t have to pay rent.  I can get an apartment with an extra room and an office you can use… and I can buy the groceries.  You wouldn’t have to pay for anything.  And when we defeat him, then you can go to school.”

“I’m not taking your money, Kitty.  And your father would blow a gasket and probably cut you off unless you kicked me out.”

“I have money saved and I don't want to work there anyway. It's not my legacy.  And we could get married, like I said before.  Then he couldn’t object.  And that way you’re not taking my money, you’re sharing it with me and you’d be my next of kin and have full access to my money whenever you needed it instead of having to ask me for everything.  And yeah, we would kill each other after a few months, but it would be a lot of fun to pretend for a while.” He waggled his eyebrows at her making her laugh.  “I could support you.  We could be happy… you know, for a while.”

“You think getting married would make your dad less likely to lash out and destroy both your happiness and my future?”  She chuckled at him and looked off through the balcony doors, voice becoming wistful, “Even if he wasn’t an obstacle, you deserve to find someone that will make you really happy.  Longer than I would.  Someone you truly love.  Someone that will make you feel safe and loved and valued with just a look. Someone that looks at you like you’re the most important person in the world.  Someone who’s world lights up just by being near you.  Someone who lights up your world.  Someone who makes you feel like they would walk happily to the ends this world and the next to keep you safe,” she gave a small grin, “you know, someone who looks at you like Plagg looks at cheese.”  

He watched her as she studied something in the sky, eyes glassy with unshed tears, hands twisting around each other, and regret lacing her expression.  “That guy really got to you didn’t he?”

She looked back at him surprised.  “Yeah,” she breathed out, looking back at the sky, “which is stupid because I only knew him for like an hour and I won’t ever see him again, except to kick him out of Paris whenever they come here.  I should just move on but… everything is stupid.  I’m stupid.”

He nodded, “Maybe,” he started until he felt the punch to his shoulder.

“The fuck Chaton!” Marinette exclaimed.  “This is your pep talk?  You need to work on your motivation thing.  Triangle, bitch, study.”

He doubled over laughing when she stuck her tongue out at him.  It took a few minutes before he could calm down and his expression turned soft again.  “I meant maybe you should move on because you barely know him, BUT I think sometimes you just know that someone is going to have a huge impact on your life.  We knew it when we met.  You knew it when you met Alya.  I knew it when I met Nino.  Maybe your instincts are telling you something your anxiety doesn’t want to hear. Your instincts have always been right and they’ve only gotten stronger.  I trust them.” He paused to give her the most sincere look he could, “I trust you.  You should, too.”

Marinette smiled at him eyes shining with gratitude, “I love you, you goofball.”

“I know.  I love you too,” he said with a smug smile.  “Is that a yes to getting married?”

“You know, there is absolutely no reason we would have to get married.  We could just be roommates.”

“Yeah, but I really, really want to see the look on my Dad’s face if we did.  Do you think he would have an aneurism?” she rolled her eyes and shoved him away.

“Oh my god, what ancient, vindictive god did I piss off to end up with you in my life?”  

“Plagg, it had to be Plagg” Adrien said giggling.

He pulled her in for a tight hug but jumped back from her. “Oh ew gross.  You’re still sweaty.  Go take a shower and then take a nap.  The others won’t be here for a few hours.  You have time,” he shoved her away to get cleaned up before the rest of their team appeared for a debriefing on the mission. “Also, I am absolutely telling Chloe and Alya about the boy if you don’t.”

She glared at him “You wouldn’t” she hissed at him.

“Oh I would and will.  I’m not dealing with either of them if they find out I knew and didn’t tell them.”

“You better watch it, Kitty.  I’ll take you up on that marriage offer and make your life absolutely fucking miserable.”  She lobbed her water bottle at him, getting up to take a shower.

<><><><><> 

A few hours later after a peaceful but still too short nap, Alya and Nino joined Marinette and Adrien in the Base to hang out and do a post mortem on the night before.  They were snacking and chatting idly about the week to come, enjoying the kind of relaxed atmosphere they hadn’t been allowed for the past few weeks while they had planned for the gala mission, the discussion of which they were intentionally avoiding until Chloe could get there.  They were in the middle of discussing Nino’s upcoming nightclub gig when Marinette’s phone started ringing.  Seeing Chloe’s name pop up on the screen, Marinette answered and put the phone on speaker, “Hey Chlo, what’s up?  You on your way up.”

Marinette jerked back and nearly dropped the phone at Chloe’s shriek, “What the hell did you do at that gala, Dupain-Cheng?”  

Adrien’s face split into a giddy grin and he yelled back from his spot in a nearby chair, “No one yet, but give her and that Wayne kid a few days and that may change.” Marinette spluttered before glaring at him.

“Chaton…” she gritted out threateningly.

“Dupain-Cheng bagged a Wayne?” Chloe shrieked even louder, making Marinette bring her hands up to plug her ears and wiggle them around trying to get the sudden ringing to stop.

“Wait what?! Why aren’t we talking about this already?” Alya gasped offended that she didn’t already know all the details.

“No I haven't... we didn’t… I didn’t bag anything.” Marinette corrected with a glare to Adrien.

“Don’t worry Dudette, I have faith in you,” Nino offered with both finger guns and a sarcastic grin.  “You will.” Marinette stuck her tongue out and threw a handful of chips at him in retaliation.

“Bitch, I TOLD you what would happen if you wore that dress and those shoes.  Do not EVER doubt me again.  I am a goddamned Godsend to you people.  You don’t deserve my presence let alone my guidance in your lives.” Chloe sneered haughtily.  

Marinette rolled her eyes trying to keep a straight face as Alya silently mocked Chloe.  Nino was having a significantly less successful time, his muffled giggles bubbling out from behind the pillow he was holding over his face.  “Okay, you’re a gift from the gods, now what happened?” Marinette inquired.

“The manager just told me the Waynes called this morning to book the rest of the penthouse suites on our floor for a week starting tomorrow.” Chloe hissed.  “Wouldn’t have anything to do with your illicit activities last night would it?” Marinette could feel Chloe’s raised eyebrow and the hand on her cocked hip through the phone.  “Or I guess maybe it was your more licit activities that got their interest.”

“Fuuuuuck, we have until tomorrow then,” she groaned and looked over to Adrien with a cringe.

“We have until tomorrow for what?  What the hell happened?  What did you do?  Wait, did Lady Luck get lucky?” Alya asked grinning at the impending chaos.

Marinette huffed and threw chips at her too, “Back off, Als. Your Trixx is showing.”  Trixx floated up next to her chosen and smiled, patting her on the head.  “And proud of you, Kit.” Alya grinned from the praise as though it didn’t prove Marinette’s point.

“See, I knew my faith in you was justified,” Nino grinned at Marinette.

“Nino, I have more chips and I’m not afraid to use them,” Marinette threatened.

“Whatever, I’m coming right up.  Don’t you dare tell that story until I get there.  And pick up any chips you threw Dupain-Cheng!” Chloe ordered, hanging up before Marinette could respond.

As soon as the call ended, Alya turned to Marinette eagerly, “Okay, she’s off the phone, now spill.”

“I’m not spilling anything until Chloe gets here.  I’m not dealing with Pissed Off Chloe,” Marinette deferred. It was a convenient excuse and gave her time she needed to figure out how to phrase things so she didn’t have to admit more than they absolutely needed to know.  And absolutely NOT discuss Jason.  There were far more significant issues to discuss, less handsome, but more significant.  

“Okay, while we wait for her to get here, tell me one thing,” Alya interrupted her plotting to stare her down, “did you or did you not have to enact the Escape Plan version of your dress?”

Marinette groaned and rubbed her hands over her face.  She had a feeling she was going to be doing that a lot during the upcoming conversation.  “Do we have alcohol?  Is it too early to start drinking?” she gave Adrien a pleading look.

“Yes it is and yes she did,” Adrien interjected.

“Shit,” Nino whispered.  “That can’t be good.  Maybe you should rethink that alcohol ban, dude.”  He patted Marinette’s knee comfortingly.  “Did you at least get the files we were hoping for?”  

“Yeah.  We at least got that out of last night,” Marinette said with a tired smile.  “I’ll start working on the translation today, see how worth it the mission was.”

Before anyone could respond, the suite door slammed open and shut again as Chloe stormed in.  “What the fuck, Dupain-Cheng?”

“Oh good, she’s here,” Alya jumped in.  “Chloe sit your prissy ass down so we can start.”

“Excuse you, I believe you meant sit my amazingly toned, prissy ass down, thank you very much.” Chloe huffed, plopping down on top of Alya.

“Clearly what I meant, sweet cheeks,” she waggled her eyebrows at Chloe who rolled her eyes in response.  “Now get if off me.  I’m not a chair,” Alya complained, unceremoniously dumping Chloe on the floor and completely ignoring her offended squawk before she moved to sprawl across an arm chair instead.  “Okay Chloe’s here, now spill.”

“I will,” not if she could help it she wouldn’t, “but first we need to brace for Batman and the batfamily to arrive in Paris.” Marinette warned them, not at all trying to deflect the conversation.

“What do you mean Batman?  How did he find out?” Nino asked confused.

Marinette huffed out a sigh, looking up to the ceiling for inspiration.  With Alya’s interruption she hadn’t had time to think of what to say.  What was the least incriminating way to say what happened without flat out lying?  “They saw us in the cave, or rather there was surveillance which I’m sure they were monitoring.  They had to have heard Constantine talking to me.  He didn’t say anything specific, but enough.  Enough for them to know something is happening here.” Adrien gave her a deadpan look and raised an unamused eyebrow at her.  She narrowed her eyes back at him and wrinkled her nose in defiance.  She wasn’t going there unless she had to and so far, she didn’t have to.  They were going to have to drag her into that conversation kicking and screaming.

“What does that have to do with Bruce Wayne?” Chloe asked annoyed by the seeming non-sequitur.

“Bruce Wayne is Batman.” Adrien said.

“Fuck!  NO WAY! Really?” Nino yelled excitedly, “Dude, that is so cool!”  

“No wonder Batman has so many gadgets, he has his company and billions of dollars make them.” Alya reasoned.  “God, how did nobody figure that out before?  Of course he is, where else would he get all those vehicles and gadgets?”

“Right,” Adrien said nodding solemnly to them, “so, we’re going to need you two,” he said indicating Alya and Chloe, “to do a workup on them, both sides of the mask.  I know you already know everything there is to know about the Bats, Alya, but now we know their real identities which means you can do the same for the Waynes, or at least you and Chloe can.  The rest of us don’t need to know the details, at least not yet.  Right now, we just need to know what their pressure points are, their weaknesses, what makes them tick, what drives them, what scares them, and what makes them go haywire.  They’re coming here for a confrontation.  We want to make this a onetime thing and we need to know the buttons to push to make that happen.”

“On it.  I’ll start compiling information and get the start of it to you tonight so you can start the profile,” she nodded toward Chloe giving her a sly wink before she turned back to Adrien with an exaggerated innocent expression, “… but I have a ton of calculus I need to get done for school tomorrow, too.  I’ll need your help for that, Sunshine.”  

Adrien rolled his eyes. “That worked out conveniently for you. Were you hoping something would come up and that’s why you waited to do it?”

She shrugged, the mask of false innocence starting to falter as she struggled to contain a smug grin, “Maybe.  And the fact that something always comes up when you two are involved has absolutely no bearing on this conversation.”

“Are you going to make me do your physics homework too?” he snarked back at her.

“…physics homework?” Nino exclaimed.

“Oooh, yeah, what did you get for number 13 on that?  I spent an hour and couldn’t figure it out.” Chloe asked.  “Got the criminal psych homework done though if anyone needs it.”

“Don’t need that but I will take you up on that physics homework offer, Sunshine.  Thanks for volunteering.” Alya responded with a smirk.

Marinette rubbed her temples, “It’s like herding cats,” she muttered to herself.

“Want me to try the same thing with them that Tikki and I did to the cat?” Trixx asked with a grin, suddenly appearing at her shoulder, munching on a piece of fruit as they did lazy summersaults in the air.

“No, that would just distract them more.  Plus if they aren’t pursuing the Jason thing, I’m not going to push it.” She sighed at the kwami before closing her eyes and resting her head on the back of the couch, making her miss the kwami smirking and floating over to whisper something in Alya’s ear.  

“Yes, let’s get back to the immanent bat invasion,” Alya fixed Marinette with a wicked grin. “Let’s start with you bagging a bat.  Does that have anything to do with them coming?”  

Marinette groaned and hit her head on the back of the couch.  She glanced over at Alya to find both her and Trixx looking at her with matching devious expressions.  She glowered at Trixx and muttered “Traitor” none too quietly, which only made Trixx’s grin widen.  She tried to come up with a way to redirect them to something else.  Anything else at this point.  “Not the part I wanted to focus on…” she started only to be interrupted by Chloe.

“Oh, I’m sure.  But it’s definitely what we want more details on Dupain-Cheng.  Because as I recall, your goal was to NOT get noticed.  And yet, a few hours later, here we are with reservations for an entire floor… almost, by the very people who were not supposed to notice you.  Not that we don’t appreciate the revenue,” Chloe admonished with no heat behind it.

“They deserve to hear the rest.” Adrien shrugged at her, a smug smile pulling at his lips.

“Nothing happened,” Marinette exclaimed.

“But she wanted it to,” Adrien singsonged with a smile.  Marinette threw the rest of her bowl of chips at him. “Not helping, Chaton.” She growled at him.

“Depends on which side you’re on,” he smirked.

“Bitch, I did not let you borrow my Jimmy Choo’s to NOT hear details,” Chloe demanded.  “You somehow ended up with a Wayne, and you got their attention enough for the entire family to drop everything and come running.  I want to know every sordid detail.  If there aren’t any make them up.  I want dirty!”

Alya shot her a concerned look, “You okay fam?”

Chloe huffed and crossed her arms over her chest, “No, but whatever.  I’ll deal with that later myself.”

“Oh god, Chloe.  Could you not!  I already had to listen to Constantine.  I don’t need you adding to my nightmares tonight.”  Adrien objected.

“You couldn’t handle me, sweetie,” she sneered at him.  “But, let’s focus on Marinette honeypotting a Wayne.”

She sputtered, “I did not honeypot him.  I… I have no idea what that is, but that is NOT what I did,” she defended herself before giving into her curiosity, “What is honey potting?”

“It’s when… Holy shit, Chloe,” Adrien realized, shocked. He started laughing loudly. “You’re a genius.  You don’t even know anything that happened and you still figured out that’s exactly what Constantine did.”

“Don’t sound so surprised, Adrikins.  I have skills.” Chloe boasted confidently.  “Marinette?”

“Are you interested in the honeypot thing or me almost breaking a man’s wrist for trying to stick it up my skirt?” Marinette offered instead.

“… uh, yeah that one.  I want to hear about that.” Nino answered, suddenly much more concerned about the night.

“So…” Marinette started.  But before she could get more than that out Chloe interrupted her, “Those skills include noting when a conversation has been redirected.  You were about to discuss your honeypotting experience, Marinette.”

Marinette groaned.  She was so close to getting away with it.  So very close.  Damn Chloe. “I want it noted for the record that I still don’t know what that word means.  And the wrist thing really did happen.” She eyed Chloe and Adrien before continuing, “I needed cover to get into a better position to watch the Waynes…” she glared at a cackling Adrien who was being spurred on by Plagg grumbling “needed” while Tikki tried to shush them.  “SO,” she announced over them, “I danced with someone who was definitely not one of the people we went over in our meetings.  There was no briefing on him and I know because I sure as fuck would have remembered.  I mentioned a supervillain to him because I was stupid and not thinking and commiserating about living in a city with supervillains.  I didn’t think it would get back to Batman.  I didn’t think there was any way it could.  What are the odds?  But I forgot my luck outside of the suit.” She glared at Tikki who winced.

“Luck doesn’t always give you what you think you need.  It is about the right person getting the right thing at the exact right time.” Tikki said carefully.  Marinette rolled her eyes.  

“It never gives me what I think I need.  Never, not once have I actually gotten like, a hammer when I needed to break something open to get to an akuma.  Noooo, I get a leaf of lettuce that I have to use in addition to 19 more steps in order to get to the akumatized item.  Meanwhile, this asshole,” she indicated Adrien who gave an offended scoff, “gets a screwdriver when we need to unscrew something.  What is that about?”

“The path to your destiny is sometimes complicated,” Tikki offered weakly floating back slightly so she was behind Plagg and Wayzz.  The latter of whom decided to risk his immortality by adding, “And often the trials on the journey to your destiny teach you exactly what you need in order to achieve it.” Marinette fixed him with a glare so potent the mini god slunk away, hiding behind Nino.

“Anyway,” Marinette turned her glare from Wayzz to look back at the humans in the room. “Turns out the dead Wayne son isn’t so dead.  He’s very much alive and dancing at galas with women who were supposed to go undetected by the Waynes.  AND he’s one of the bats.  So the man I was commiserating with, the one I let my guard down for one moment to, was a bat.  So now Bruce Wayne, Batman knows.  Because I couldn’t keep my mouth shut for one fucking night.”

“Marinette, you okay?  It doesn’t sound like nothing happened.” Nino asked gently moving to next to her and wrap an arm around her.

“Nothing happened and nothing is going to happen because he's an American vigilante, a bat, and a violent one who can't be allowed to stay here and I can't leave.  So it doesn't matter if I had fun with him.  It doesn't matter if we danced and flirted.  It doesn't matter if he was handsome and charming and sweet and protective with a soft spot for kids.  It doesn't matter if the way he looked at me made me feel happy and protected and lighter.  Because I have to be here and he can't be.”  Well shit she groaned to herself.  That was significantly more than she meant to say.  As it turns out, they didn’t have to drag her kicking and screaming into the conversation.  They just had to give her room to saunter her own ass into it.

Alya scooted over to the other side of her and hugged her, “Oh, Marinette.”

“Until we take down Hawkmoth,” Nino nodded solemnly.

“Well that’s ridiculous, utterly ridiculous.  We make an exception and let the one she wants to bang into the country.” Chloe scoffed as though it were the most obvious solution.

Marinette looked up at her in shock and chuckled lightly, “if that’s the requirement, we’ll have to let the oldest son into the country too so Adrien can get a shot at him.”

“No, you need it more than him.  He can wait until we kick Hawkmoth’s ass.” She looked over at Adrien with only the slightest hint of sympathy “sorry Adrikins.”

“You only say that because you haven’t seen the oldest.”

“No, I have.  He’ll still be there after we win.  You can embarrass yourself in front of him then.”

Adrien pouted at her.  “I could bag him.  I have skills, too.”

“Sure you could Romeo,” Nino said getting up and patting Adrien on the shoulder.  “Come on, let’s move this party to Chloe’s room.  We can order lunch and start on the homework for Alya and Marinette.” Nino ushered them towards the door.

“Why the hell am I doing homework for Marinette?” Chloe groused.

“Oh right you weren’t here yet, Dudette.  Marinette needs to start translating the files.” Nino explained, swinging an arm around Chloe’s shoulders.

“You guys go ahead, we’ll be right there,” Alya called out to them, reaching out to hold Marinette back.

Alya waited until they were gone before moving to sit on the armrest on the couch.  She stared at Marinette seriously, “So, spill girl.”

“I already told you about the night.  What more do you want?” Marinette asked defeated.

“No, you told them.  Now tell me.  There is speaking with friend honesty and then there is best friend honesty.  I want the best friend honesty. What was your boy like?” she prompted Marinette.  Marinette looked so defeated.  She needed Marinette to remember the more fun parts of the night, the parts that reminded them that they were still teenagers under their suits and responsibilities.  She wanted to get Marinette’s mind off of the negative and what was to come, to focus on being happy for once, and tease out what impact this boy had on her best friend. Which, knowing her best friend, she was going to try to suppress for the safety of Paris.  God, she hated Hawkmoth for so very many things but this was at the top of the list, the impact he had on everyone’s mentality, especially Marinette’s.  

“Alya,” Marinette sighed, “I haven’t assessed him yet.”

“No!  I want Marinette’s reaction not Ladybug’s.” Alya chided her.

“We’re the same person, Alya.” Marinette rolled her eyes.

“Yes but with different priorities and insights.  I want Marinette’s insights.  No guilt, no responsibilities, no angst, not what went wrong, not what you could have done better.  Just the fun part, the teenage girl perspective.  What.  Was. He.  Like?” she poked Marinette with her foot after each word to accentuate the question.

Marinette sighed again but Alya could see the glint of a smile on her lips as she thought through the night with him.  The prominent details flashing in Marinette’s mind. “He was sweet.  He was clever.  Kind.  Mischievous. He doesn’t like pretense.  He likes blunt, honest.  Knows how to handle himself.  He stopped to help a kid, Alya, a kid.  Really protective of kids.  Respectful. Gentle.  He has the most brilliant eyes and heartwarming smile and he focused on me the entire time, like nothing else mattered.”  She looked off at nothing and cocked her head to the side.  A sad expression suddenly appeared on her face.  “He’s Red Hood, you know the scary one.  But he was so gentle and sweet.  How do I reconcile that?”

“No, I said no angst.  We’re not reconciling anything right now.  We’re not going to discuss that he stopped killing a while ago and that is why he is working with Batman.” She snuck into the conversation.  As the group’s expert on superheroes, she could give Marinette a lengthy, highly detailed essay on each of the Bats, their history, and speculations about them, but she wasn’t ready to discuss Red Hood’s history with Marinette and Marinette wasn’t ready to hear it yet.  She would go over it with Chloe later and they would distill it to the bare basics Marinette needed to know before facing them tomorrow. Today, they focus on the good. Tomorrow they focus on Paris. “Instead, we’re going to focus on the fact that he’s a good guy now who made you very happy for a while last night.  So, what does this good guy look like?”

Marinette paused to consider what Alya had said.  “Nope,” Alya threw a nearby pillow at her head, “not now. There will be plenty of time for that later, after you’ve gotten your work for tomorrow done, eaten something other than chips, and slept a human amount of time.  Now.  What. Does.  He.  Look. Like?” She poked Marinette with her foot after each word again to push her into answering.  

Marinette grabbed her foot on the last word and glared at her. “God, why are you such a bitch?”

“You love me and if I don’t worry about you doing those things, you won’t do them.  Now answer before I have to kick you again.  I’ll do it.” Alya threatened with a mock glare, her foot raised slightly, ready to kick.

Marinette rolled her eyes and shoved her best friend’s foot back at her.  She knew exactly what Alya was doing, it’s the same thing she does for her when Alya gets too caught up in a self-deprecating spiral, but she needed something to smile about so she went with it.  She looked to the side, focusing on nothing while she tried to think of how to describe his looks.  “Tall,” she nodded absentmindedly as she continued, “He was very tall with dark hair and blue eyes, a sharp jaw and broad shoulders.  He had a shock of white hair at the front that was begging to be touched.” She absentmindedly touched her bangs in the same place his streak was and stared off into space with a dreamy look on her face.  “He had this smile that made you weak in the knees. His eyes sparkled when he was talking to me until he discovered why I was there and then they were filled with such sincere concern that took your breath away.”

“He was that good looking, huh?” Alya asked with an amused raised brow.

“Come on Alya, it wasn't just the looks, the personality too,” Marinette admonished her.

“Right, right. Of course...” Alya nodded seriously, “but...” she prompted Marinette to continue.

“He was sexier than Adonis and Henry Cavill’s lovechild, with a personality to match.” Marinette said with a deadly serious expression.

Alya stared at her amused and opened her mouth to speak but Marinette continued, “One look melted ice the next town over.”  Alya beamed at her excitement.  “He is the sexiest thing I think I’ve ever seen, and one of my best friends is an actual supermodel who hangs out with other supermodels.  And this ice meltingly sexy Advill lovechild looked at me like I made his life complete.”

“So you wanted to kiss him?” she teased her friend with a knowing glint in her eyes.

“I wanted to rip his clothes off with my teeth,” Marinette corrected.

Alya balked at the unexpected admission before doubling over with raucous laughter.  Her laughter got louder as Marinette joined her.  Alya gasped for air but she couldn’t catch her breath which made her laugh harder until she was laughing so hard she fell backwards off the armrest landing on the floor with a resounding thump, causing them both to laugh even harder.

 Chapter 5

Tags:

@loveswifi​ @mystery-5-5​ @dreamykitty25​ @ira-sairain​ @wannajointhecrabcult​ @susiej1118​ @our-preciousss @casual-darkness​ @ertyzeta​ @mandy984​ @darkthunder1589​ @chez-pezeater​ @emilytopaz​ @elements1999​ @nik-nak-3 @mermaidreject​ @dramatic-squirrel​ @thenillabean​ @alysrose-starchild​ @phoenixperegrinebitch​ @nickristus-dreamer​ @goblinwhoships​ @no-username2544 @i-wanna-be-a-ninja​ @valeks-princess​ @2confused-2doanything @redscarlet95​ @icebluedolphin2365​ @inarachi02​ @unrepentantgeek​ @maybe-nonsense​ @theymakeupfairies​ @smolplantmum​ @moongoddesskiana​ @thehufflepuffranger-blog @fusser90​ @spyofthenightcourt​ @jayverca @animegirlweeb​ @queen-of-the-trash-planet-tm​ @consumeconstantly​ @lozzybowe​ @novicevoice​ @random-fandoms7​ @acoolspacegirl​ @laurcad123​ @dast218​ @frieddonutsweets​ @maribat-is-lifeblood​ @g-arya​ @fantasiame​ @lilkymilky​ @corabeth11​ @fc-studios​ @roselynfey​ @babylovebug18​ @pepelachanel​ @atramentias​

As always, if I forgot you please, please let me know.  I’m a bit scatterbrained lately.

Note: was one of those sequences stolen directly from Big Hero 6?  Yes, yes it was.

And the triangle comment is absolutely from Suicide Squad.  I was going to have Adrien comment about the movie but then I realized that is a DC movie so it probably doesn’t exist in this universe.

Also, I am letting everyone keep their original miraculouses just with a redesign because you know they will find a way to do it in the show so let’s pretend I’m following the same premise that they use to allow it.

#maribat #jasonette #Pixie Spy

[theramseyloft]

7/8/21 Loft Notes

JFC...

Some one DMed me on FB today, casually asking how to save their child's cockatiel whose cage mate just died of psittacosis.

Psittacosis is a zoonotic Chlamydia variant...

Both an emergency vet and a human doctor need to be involved!

Not the pigeon lady you know through Facebook.

They just know me as the person who knows stuff about animals.

Get the body to a lab!!

Get the live bird to the vet.

Get the human in contact with the bird who died of a known zoonoses to the Dr!!

Waiting for Tandy and Acer to come down for photos.

Got Acer.

Just waiting for Tandy.

Being a squeaker playground in the meantime.

They've forgiven me for worming them last night.

Oh!

Dolly is playing with my skirt!

So is Bell!

That will bring them up to Vibe class, if it becomes a pattern.

Bridget and Archie are foraging together.

I'm going to miss Slick.

Mipha is 9 weeks old today, firmly in the Curious class.

Ah!

The peep of Suki's I was worried about is half full today.

Ho-lee gawd, Bijoux is gonna be stunning!

Y'all have seen how shiny black Calypso is.

She looks matte next to Bijoux.

Girl has some of that greenfire shine.

Dolly tried to get into my lap!!!

But Bunny told her to fuck off.

Dolly is now on my foot.

Got spooked off by Pippen.

Immediately returned.

Acer was practice flirting with his Dad.

At the moment, he presents largely hennish behaviors.

Entices Pippin to feed and then tread him like a hen.

He is considering getting in my lap, but not sure.

Bell is on my foot where Dolly was.

Calypso is loafed on my knee.

Bell climbed all the way onto my knee!

And Acer stepped up onto my foot!

Bravest babies!

Dolly hopped up onto my knee!

Just got the call from the post office!

Gonna... Gonna have to continue in graphic.

Brightheart is alive.

They just got very scalped.

Continued under the cut:

Here is the face of a cock bird, who has been a cock bird.

Brightheart is at the vet as we speak.

The bad news: that red thing is supposed to attach that half of the base of her tongue to her skull.

The good news:

She could drink despite it having been severed by her boxmate

The only reason Cody's body didn't look like this when he was tragically killed in shipping is that he was bigger than Cloud, and Cloud could not just overpower him.

Patron: "Jfc. Seems like one more argument for not shipping two birds in the same box."

At least not an adult cock with anything other than an adult hen without a divider.

In both of these cases, the cocks were mellow in the loft.

So the gentleness of cocks can't be trusted as a measure of their safety to box mates they are intended to be shipped with.

Patron: "Can you put dividers in the box?"

They don't come with them, but a piece of cardboard cut to fit diagonally would have allowed Cody and Cloud to travel safely.

Hindsight being 2020.

A bonded pair should be fine.

The issue is with two unbonded cocks or an adult cock and a smaller, younger bird.

Patron: "that's some deep damage, you can see the several layers of skin down to bone..."

"as terrifying as the extensive damage itself is that it likely took a long time of battling to get to that level since pigeons aren't particularly primed to deal such injuries quickly"

Patron: "She can move her head okay?"

She can.

Full range of motion on everything vital.

Bad news is it's infected.

We're going to try antibiotics and pain killers.  But if she goes downhill, we're going to immediately euthanize so she doesn't suffer.

She was just so happy to be here when I set her in the hospital cage with water.

If I didn't think it there was a chance she would recover the way Cara did, we would have euthanized already.

Back from the vet and pharmacy.

Meloxicam for pain.

Sulfatrim pediatric suspension internally.

0.1ml 2x daily.

Patron: "How is she? She's incredible for surviving that"

1% Silver Sulfadiazine cream externally.

She acts like nothing happened.

Preening.

Drank immediately.

Pecking food.

Patron: "I’m so glad the baby is doing ok,,, I m already upset about what happened, but if they didn’t make it I would’ve been heartbroken"

I feel you.

This is how Cody died, and I was very not ok when that happened.

Dr. Mayer and I figure that if she's gonna crash, she'll do it tomorrow. But I'm hopeful.

Patron: "I’ve never seen a pigeon that old get so beat up by another bird. Thinking about it now, it makes sense,, but I had assumed baby was big enough and radish was calm enough there wouldn’t be issues"

Yeah, my thought process with Cody and Cloud was they're related, friends, and about the same size. Should be fine, especially since they go to sleep in the dark.

Patron: "I had no idea anyone else had had it go that badly,,, I probably would’ve asked questions about a divider or something,, with the birds I got recently, there was an adult cock and a younger one that was still peeping that weren’t related shipped together,, I figured it’d work out the same way that did"

Yeah.  I've gotten groups of both sexes and ages too where everyone was fine.

Patron: "I guess it’s good that I know now. I’ll figure out how to make a divider for boxes if I ever ship adults that aren’t paired or adults and babies in the future"

Patron: "I had to wait extra long for a pair recently as the breeder will not send a pair that could be near driving stage, as they say that is dangerous as well."

We spent $78.41 at South Pointe Animal Hospital on an Exotic Comprehensive Exam ($56.00), Meloxicam ($20.75), and Tax ($1.66)

and $25.90 at Hephzibah Pharmacy for 30 days of Sulfatrim Pediatric Suspension ($9.95) and 1% Silver Sulfadiazine cream ($15.95)

Bringing our PayPal Balance to $565.78

#tw gore #tw: graphic injury #tw: animal injury

[kellbellsparkles]

Chapter 1 of my new Ratchet and Clank fanfic I call "Family". Clank and Rivet have built in mini Dimensionators so they can travel freely only between the two dimensions.

In the present day, Ratchet and Clank hopped over to Rivet and Kit's dimension to explore their version of Veldin. The night was bright with bustling buildings and night goers looking for a good time.

"This is seriously Veldin?" Ratchet remarked in awe. "I mean, I haven't been back to mine in a long time, but it's always had this open, dusty frontier field; the kind of dusty where kids could stand by tumbleweeds and look cool with their toothpicks and cowboy hats."

"You can thank my Nefarious for that," Rivet said. "It's the one thing that everybody can't just let go of."

"It makes sense if it is all they have ever known," Clank said.

"Along with being able to document history as he saw fit," Kit added.

"Do you know who will be in charge of the new era, Rivet?" Clank asked.

"I haven't bothered paying attention to all that," she replied while shrugging. "I'm all about the here and now." She beamed suddenly. "And here we are now!"

They arrived at a tent in between two buildings with purple neon lights. On the flaps was a sign decorated with a martini glass and four rectangles resembling cards.

"Pretty ironic to be coming to a fortune telling booth with bar," Ratchet said.

"Hey," Rivet said defensively. "Jarmin has never given a fortune that didn't come true. You want to know if you're gonna win the lottery too, right?"

"Now that I think about it," Clank said. "Receiving a fortune is much like playing the lottery. We pick any card from the fortune teller's hand or from the top of their deck depending on their dealing preference--"

"The door isn't opening itself, Bolts," Rivet cut in. She swung the flaps open. "Come on!"

The crew entered the tent. Inside was space to have a fully functioning bar. At the center were four place mats and a deck of cards. The owner, Jarmin, was a fongoid.

"Party of four today?" He asked.

"Yup," Rivet said. As she reached for her wallet, Jarmin raised his hand.

"It's on the house for your great service for ending the now former emperor Nefarious," he said.

"Really??" Rivet squealed. "I love you, man! I'll take a kick some sass with a drop of smash gin!"

"How about the rest of you?" Jarmin offered.

"Nah," Ratchet said, shaking his head. "I'm still new to this world."

"I do not drink," Clank added.

"Obviously," Rivet retorted.

"That is actually not correct," Kit said. "Robots can enjoy variants and equivalents of food and drink."

"But it's not like you NEED it. You and Clank don't use the bathroom."

Clank blinked curiously.

"I was not aware I needed to," he said.

"You don't," Ratchet assured. Clank tilted his head.

"Do I want to?"

"No." He patted his head gently, his eyes showing concern. He turned to Rivet, desperate to change the subject.

"So who gets the first card?"

Rivet put her hand behind Kit and ushered her forward.

"It's all you, Kitty," she said with confidence.

"Me?" Kit croaked. "But why? And why Kitty?"

"You'll get used to it. Now draw a card."

Kit shakily reached for the deck. Hesitating, she drew her arm back and looked down at the floor.

"What if it's a bad fortune?" she said with a frightened tone.

"Kitty, Kitty," Rivet said in a consoling tone. "If you get a bad fortune, all you gotta do is get it done and over with and then you'll have good things in life immediately after. Isn't that right, Jarmin?"

"It's what brings people back," he cheered as he brought Rivet her drink. "Here you are, honey." Rivet gave him a wink, a smile, and a pointed finger snap in response. Kit took a deep breath.

"Okay," she said. "I am going to do it." Her legs trembled as she took small steps towards the card deck.

"We're right behind you, Kit," Ratchet said gently.

Hearing her friend's belief in her, she stood firmly and nodded. She stood directly in front of the deck and placed her hand on the top card.

"Please do not be death or causing death," she whispered as she closed her eyes. With all her courage, she grabbed a card and held it in the air in a dramatic fashion. She stayed in the pose for a good few seconds.

"What does it say?" Clank asked.

"Oh no," Kit moaned. "Is it blank?"

"We can't see," Ratchet said. "You need to turn it around and show us."

Kit turned her whole body around with her eyes still closed.

"You need to see it yourself, too, silly goose," Rivet chuckled.

"Oh," Kit said, embarrassed. She opened her eyes and brought the card down to her level. She turned it over to see what it showed.

"Do you like what you see?" Rivet asked with a smooth grin.

"I think so," Kit responded. "It's a heart."

"The heart card means you'll be unconditionally loved for all time," Jarmin chimed.

"Awwww," Ratchet cooed. "You see, Kit?"

Kit's metal lips quivered. She burst into sobs and ran into Ratchet's arms.

"What did I do to deserve iiiiiiiiit?" she wailed.

"Of course you deserve it," Ratchet said happily, patting her back. "You're wonderful."

"My turn!" Rivet shouted, scrambling towards the deck with her drink in her hand. "Let's keep the good vibes going!" She drew the card swiftly as she took a sip. Once she took a look, her eyes gaped in horror. She spat the contents of her drink onto the card.

"Aw no!" she hollered. "No, no, NO!! Absolutely not!" She made an attempt to draw another card.

"Ah, ah, ah," Jarmin said sternly. "Only one card per customer, and you'll have to pay for the next visit."

"Dammit, Jarmin!" Rivet cried. "You can't do this to me!!"

"What's wrong, Rivet?" Ratchet asked with worried. Rivet slammed the card in front of her crew; they leaned in for a closer look.

"It looks like a stork carrying something in a white cloth," Kit said.

"I have heard of this phenomenon," Clank said. He clapped his hands cheerfully. "How exciting. You are being given a baby."

"There's nothing exciting about it!!" Rivet exclaimed angrily. "Babies are the leeches of society: they get in the way of a good night's sleep, having fun, and they poop something extraterrestrial!! And when they get older, they destroy everything they set their sights on and speak their own babbly language we only nod and pretend to understand!!"

"On the contrary," Jarmin interjected. "The stork card doesn't mean you'll have a baby. At least not right away. It mostly means that you'll make a great mother one day."

"But I don't want to be a mom," Rivet whined. "Why do women have to be engineered to be birth machines?"

"What is a birth machine?" Clank asked innocently. The room grew silent; Rivet stared at Clank, completely dumbfounded.

"Are you serious?" she snapped light. Kit stood in front of her, desperately waving her arms in the air to gesture silence.

"I-It's where the stork picks up the baby to be delivered," Ratchet stammered nervously.

"Oh my," Clank gasped. "So babies do come from genetic modifying pods. The little kids from the playground were right!"

"Yup!" Ratchet squeaked. "Kids sure are smarter than we give them credit for!" Rivet rolled her eyes.

"Overprotective much?" she said under her breath.

"I guess it's my turn now!" Ratchet exclaimed, desperate to draw the focus back to the cards again. He drew his card; he looked it over from top to bottom.

"Huh," he said, his brows furrowing in confusion. "What's this mean?" On his card was a lock box with something inside writing to get out.

"That's the trap card," Jarmin responded. "It means something is trapping you or you will be trapped by something." Ratchet's face fell.

"Oh," he said softly, his ears drooping slightly. "I feel a little attacked there."

"It will be alright, Ratchet," Clank said suddenly, coming to his rescue with a hand hold. "These cards do not have a time limit, and ultimately, we will have good fortune. We will all be here for one another." Ratchet sighed and gave a soft smile.

"Thanks, pal," he said.

"As always, Ratchet," Clank replied. He lightly skipped to the deck of cards. "Now, let us see what my fortune is." He drew a card from the deck. He turned it over and glanced with great intrigue.

"Oooooo," he said, eyes wide with wonder. However, Kit's eyes were filled with great fear as she held her hands over her mouth to conceal a yell. Rivet froze mid sip of her drink. Jarmin shuddered and bowed his head, doing a prayer motion with his hands. Ratchet was unaware of his surroundings and continued to be drawn by his friend's curiosity.

"It's blank," he said.

"It appears so," Clank replied. "This must mean there are an infinite amount of possibilities for me; so many unknowns."

"Wow, pal!" Ratchet beamed. "I think you and Kit are the big lottery winners tonight!" He stood up and stretched. "I'm ready to head back if you are." Clank trotted to Ratchet and hopped onto his back.

"Thank you again, Rivet and Kit," Clank said. I never could have imagined us acting as conduits for transporting between our dimensions without your suggestion."

As they left the tent, all Rivet, Kit, and Jarmin could do was watch them with sinking feelings in their stomachs.

"Are we really just going to let them be?" Kit shakily questioned.

"It could be what Clank said about being left up to interpretation," Rivet nervously suggested. "Right, Jarmin?"

"The fortunes depicted in the cards have always come true," he said grimly. "Orvus, have mercy." Rivet and Kit looked at each other with great uncertainty and dread.

#ratchet and clank #ratchet and clank rift apart

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, “Acting.”

A continuation to the Hybrid arc. Hope you all enjoy this morning. 

Adam dropped her hand as soon as they were through the door reaching down with one hand to engage the augmented hearing from his open implant. He leaned his head to the side listening with his eyes closed. Sunny covered him from the side.

Straining to hear down the hall, he tilted his head and turned up the volume.

“So, what do you say?”

“IS that even legal?”

“And how long have you two been in a relationship….” There was silence, “exactly, excuse us for thinking legal wasn’t your thing.”

“Look I get what you’re doing, and I’m not going to stop you, but the people around here have enough problems as it is without you going around and giving them hope like that just to scam them out of their money.”

‘It isn’t a scam, we can do exactly what we told you we can do.”

“Yeah, and I’m chairman of the galactic assembly.”

Footsteps and protests.

Commander Vir turned to Sunny a rather disconcerting expression spreading across his face, “You ready?”

“Ready for what.”

“Now, Don’t freak out ok.”

Tilting his head he could hear footsteps moving up the hall and annoyed muttering voices.

Sunny watched in confusion as the man lifted his head to stare at the ceiling, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, and then with a single breath  he just burst into tears face in his hands.

Sunny took a step back in complete and utter confusion.

Sobbing the man slid down the nearest wall head in hands, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry I… I’m a h-horrible partner.”

Sunny stood nonplussed at the center of the hallway for a second before regaining her senses.

What the hell was he doing?

She walked over and knelt next to him a hand on his arm, “What are you talking about.”

“I’m-m s-sorry my brother….he-he's having another…. Baby and I. You and I…. Will n-never.” He choked off. 

The hell was happening, Adam wasn’t this good of an Actor as far as she remembered.

“What started all this? Why-”

“Because I kn-know how important having a large family is in…. Your culture and I. I just feel like a failure because…. I-its not fair.”

The footsteps from earlier had stopped, but they were still close by.

Adam raised his head tears streaming down his face, but looking into his eyes, Sunny watched as he motioned towards the hallway with them. Shit, he really was faking it.

When the hell had he learned how to face like that.

She scooted closer and wrapped her arms around him as he continued to sob into her chest, “Shhh, it's alright. If I really needed that there is always…. Adoption is it?”

HE choked out a bitter laugh, “The GA would never allow that. They hate us.” He broke down into sobs again.

“Things can change, you of all people should know that.” She paused glancing towards the hallway, “What brought this on anyway.” 

Sniff, “Just, got a text from my brother-another ….p-picture of his new baby, I-I’’m so sick and tired of being the black sheep in the family. Mom always wanted grandkids and, and I’m the screw up son that just can’t….”

Wow, she would have felt sorry for him if she had been watching. 

How the hell was he doing that.

“Come on Adam, you’re drunk, lets get you home.”

Still had to make this authentic.

She pulled him to his feet arm around her as he leaned against her shoulder, “I’m sorry.” He muttered again.

“Me too.” She added slowly walking them down the other end of the hallway.

Glancing over at Adam, she could see he still had the tears flowing, but the expression in his eyes was one of concentration, head tilted towards the noise behind them. The two traits thrown together like that was more than  a little unsettling.

“We have a tail.” He muttered quietly leaning his head against her and wrapping an arm around hers. His gate was uneven as if he were slightly inebriated, and she did her best to support him. They stepped out onto the street walking slowly. He allowed his breathing to slow and relax and the expression on his face moved from one of exhaustion to one of intent focus as he listened behind them.

“Close?” She whispered.

“Yes, hold on.” He staggered a bit more letting his legs give out as he sat next to the wall.

“Adam!Are you ok!”

“Yeah…. I.” He put his head in his hands, “Just nauseous. I’ll be ok in a minute.” 

Sunny turned her head towards the end of the alley where a pair of figures were now backlit against the neon blue lighting of the nearest club.

She recognized them.

The two Tesraki approached slowly as Adam rocked back and forth next to the wall, “Is your companion well?” One of them asked, sounding worried.

“Do we need to call someone for you?” Another asked

She patted his back, “No he will be alright in a minute. Just drank too much, I think.”

Adam lifted his head slowly tilting his head as he looked blearily up at the Tesraki, “Hey…. haven't we seen you before. Earlier tonight at the club?”

The two of them nodded, “Yes we did happen to be leaving at the same time.”

“I… thought it was kind of weird to see two Tesraki, since, you know it's an interspecies club and all.”

They glanced between each other, “Well, yes, but we were there for a bit of business, you know some advertising. Your friends happen to be a target demographic for our market.”

Adam wiped at his face, “And what is your market.”

“Here let us find you some water, and then maybe we can talk more openly.” 

***

Midnight at a 24-hour diner. Adam had some water and the two Tesraki sat across from them.

“To start off with, you are under no obligation to agree to anything of course, this is simply a pitch meeting of our…. Service.”

“And what is your service.”

The two glanced between each other, “Well have you ever heard of genetic splicing.”

“Uh no, can’t say I have.”

“Well it is a very complicated procedure which requires the careful integration of genetic material…. From two species into one cohesive hole.” 

Adam blinked and leaned back, “W…. what are you saying.”

“I am saying that we can make hybrids. The procedure is admittedly very expensive as it has to be done with the utmost care and consideration, but it is something we have recently perfected with a little help.”

“Hybrids…. like …. like “

“Like Drev human hybrids.”

They glanced at each other with wide eyes, “Say again?”

“Drev human hybrids.” 

He turned to look at Sunny grabbing her by the arm, “You hear that.”

“Yeah yeah, but let's not get our hopes up just yet.” She turned to look at the Tesraki “And how do we know you aren’t lying?”

“Well we have a few images, but of course those could have been doctored. Still, if you are interested we would be wiling to bring you in to tour the facility.” One of them reached into his bag and pulled out a set of photographs which he passed across the table.

Sunny and Adam leaned in together to look at the images.

The first one was a picture of a sleeping baby, it looked human, except for the bright purple tint of its hair and nails, and a slight shimmering about the skin. Two little holes at the base of it’s neck indicated a possible auxiliary breathing system just like a Drev.

“Sweet Jupiter.” Adam muttered turning to the next picture.

This one was a baby Drev, but missing a pair of arms and with five fingers on either hand. It’s open eyes were clearly very human.

They kept turning through the pages.

“Other companies have tried this before for various reasons. However, the mistake them often make is trying to make a fifty, fifty genetic variants. Try blending DNA at a fifty-fity split and the child turns out to be deformed, in pain and unable to sustain itself in order to live. The key is to bring it to a 80 20 or 70-30 split or some other variation. They tend to look more like one species than the other, but they do still have the genetics of both the parents.

Adam’s eyes widened, “Wow… that’s amazing, but…. Is that…. illegal?”

“Should it be illegal to keep people from having happy families?”

“I suppose not.”

“Very well.”

Sunny crossed her arms, “I would have to have more proof than this.”

“Of course, of course you would, and that can be done. We can bring you to the facility as long as you sign some nondisclosure forms 

‘Or you could simply be kidnapping us.”

“And you could be cops.”

“I guess that leaves us at an impasse.” Sunny said crossing her arms. 

Adam leaned forward, “But Chalan…. please. If they can help us…”

“Adam, I don’t trust it.”

She watched him pause for a minute second conjuring up his acting skills from earlier as tears welled in his eyes, “But what if this is our only chance….” His chin trembled 

Shit, he was good 

She sighed, “Ok, ok,what do we do?”

“Give us your contact information, and we will come to you.”

They did and the  four of tem stood shaking hands in the traditional human way before stepping to walk outside. Sunny could see the Tesraki watching them, so she grabbed Adam by the hand and pulled him in close to her, a fact that seems to surprise him.

They walked out and the Teraki waved a farewell to them walking down the street.

Adam tried to let go, but sunny shook her head, ‘They’re still watching us. I swear those guys are suspicious.”

“Wouldn't you be.”

She huffed, and instead of talking more she grabbed him by the arms keeping one eye out for the Tesraki as she pulled him closer and gently pressed her forehead against his. He grew very still, but she took one hand of his and pressed it against the side of her face.

He was very stiff 

“Don’t blow our cover.”

She muttered 

She watched his eyes turn back to hers, and he took a deep breath relaxing.

A thumb bushed over her cheek.

They were looking straight into each others eyes now.

She pulled him just a bit closer.

Out of the corner of her eye she watched the Tesraki disappear behind the nearest building. She gripped Adam tighter holding the position for a good twenty seconds just in case.

Eventually she let him go keeping a hold of his hand.

He was blinking rather faster than normal.

His hand was slick with sweat.

He was terrible at undercover work.

She tugged hi up the street, “So do you want to tell me when you became such a good actor.”

He snorted, “Oh no, fake crying is about the only thing I can do. Thomas taught me when I was a kid. I can cry on command.”

“How?”

“Well I t sort of involves thinking about how we had to put down our old family dog. I really don’t like to think about it. Gets me every time.���

She shook her head,  “You are a well of surprised aren’t you.”

“Just a little.” 

She sighed, “Now all we have to do is stop a genetic tampering ring.”

“Just another Monday.” 

[ajokeformur-ray]

I feel it no longer // J x Rosie x Pat // OT3 cuddles + comfort

 Summary: Now more than ever do you need for your loves to remind you of all the reasons why. They’ll catch your fall with open arms, listening ears and hearts so full of love for you that it’ll leave you breathless.

A/N: Dedicated to and written for the absolute sweetheart @loveletterstoledger​ 💙 I hope that you enjoy this, angel, and if not then please let me know and I’m happy to write something else for you! Be kind to yourself and remember that J, Pat, myself and Heath are all so, so proud of you and we all love you so much!💛

Word count: 1, 586.

You can feel the warmth of the sheets beneath you. You can feel the slender weight of Pat to the back of you, and the heavier, broader weight of J on the side of the bed which is closer to the door. You can feel the duvet atop all three of your bodies; Pat has little of it because J likes to hog the blanket, and Pat is curled into you like the koala you named him after as a result of the lack of warmth. Your head is on J’s chest, and the elder man’s arm is stretched across the pillow, his fingers in Pat’s dark curls. Your leg is tossed over J’s hips and you are curled into his body, facing him; Pat’s chest is tightly pressed to your back and his leg is over your hips. 

In this moment are you warm and safe and loved. Oh, but this is nothing short of heaven. All three of you are so perfectly connected and intertwined and your hearts are pooled in the very centre of the room; the heat from your bodies collides with the love in your hearts and the two elements mix and merge together to create a love so potent and so powerful that one day, many years from now and in your darkest of hours, will you remember this moment right here.

You can feel all of these physical and metaphysical things and more - the slight bite in the air, the way the duvet which J has hogged is bunched up under you knee, the warmth of Pat’s breath on the back of your neck and the steady rise and fall of J’s chest as he breathes - but you can’t feel them. When you awaken this day is there a weight on your chest. It’s thick and cloying, heavy and you find yourself struggling to even find a reason to get out of bed. You suppress a sigh and the heave of your chest catches J’s attention. He cracks an eye open and the fingers which are in Pat’s hair tap the younger man’s scalp - Pat’s eyes shoot open and he catches J’s dark eyes over the top of your head. J nods slowly and Pat frowns. Your eyes are still closed so you miss this exchange.

They know how you have been feeling even though you haven’t said anything to them. So emotionally intuitive are the two men, tried and tired by their own lives and world-weary even with how young they both are and so emotionally connected to you are they, their sweet Rosie, that you haven’t even needed to say anything. They both just... know. At this moment are you not even fully awake yet and already are you thinking and overthinking, anxiety picking apart the strands of logic which have filtered into your mind as surely as the sunlight is filtering through the minute gaps in your curtains. You smile and nuzzle your face into J’s clothed chest, the combined scent of greasepaint, gunpowder, gasoline and something which is only J’s filling your nostrils. From behind you does Pat groan with sleepiness not yet shed by consciousness and he presses the entire front of his body into you.

With a sleepy smile do you lift your arm, previously lying across J’s abdomen, and blindly reach back for your koala. He groans sleepily and fingers slide into the spaces between your own. Your hand is pulled back as Pat presses a series of full lipped, warm and dry kisses to your skin; he’s too far into threshold consciousness to do much more than that, but it makes you smile, really smile, and you turn to look at Pat over your shoulder. “Hey, pretty boy,” Your voice cracks with sleep and Pat hums as he burrows forward into you. He presses so tightly against you that it is almost as if he is trying to climb into your skin. His lips purse and feather kisses all over the parts of you which he can reach, as if his love can seep into the pores of your skin and your dark strands which fall through his fingers like ink in water and begin to soothe you from the inside out. Why, if Pat and J’s love for you was medicine, then never again in your life would you feel even an ounce of pain.

From behind you is there extreme movement as J grumbles and growls low in his throat as he throws himself around. He doesn’t turn over, he only gets more comfortable, but the message is clear: J wants some loving, too. The weight in your chest is very much prominent and you feel the urge to push your men away, to tell them that you’re okay, that you don’t need such an obviously planned morning cuddle with the two of them (J is usually long gone by the time you awake with Pat so this is an obviously orchestrated event but oh, you love them all the more for it), but you know that they are persistent. And, if you’re being honest with yourself, you don’t want to push them away. Sometimes do you feel like you are weighing them down, a burden on them are you, and during times like this is it most apparent that you are the furthest thing from a burden upon your koala and your clown. They need you in their lives; you balance them out in different ways and complement them in others and you are the glue which holds them together.

“Jeez,” J grumbles, “What’s a guy gotta’ do ‘round here to get some at-ten-tion, huh?” His voice is deep and gravelly with sleep, like the syllables themselves are metal shavings which grate along his vocal chords. There are traces of humour in his voice which Pat picks up on, and the Aussie laughs as he eases himself up onto an elbow. Pat’s deep laughter makes you smile a little more even with how you’re feeling, even with how you have been feeling most recently. Oh, but they are right here and even so do you miss them with all that you are. You have so much love for them, such a big heart do you possess with a depth which is impossible to quantify, and in these moments is it only abundantly obvious that they truly are your lifeline in every definition of the word. These are the men whom you live and you love for.

“Attention, huh? C’mere, love,” With a dismissive, airy tone does Pat sit up and he leans over your body so that he can grab the back of J’s head. The younger man presses a searing, demanding kiss to the elder man’s lips and J has to break away so that he can break out into laughter; his tactics work every time on Pat and it never fails to make that gleeful glint come into J’s chocolate whirlpools, punctuated with flecks of green. Pat pulls away with a chuckle, his eyes alight with humour, and he plops back down beside you just in time for J to shuffle across the minute space between your bodies. His large, hot hands cup your face and now is it your turn to be kissed so thoroughly that you forget even your name for the time that J’s full lips are on yours.

Finally is the need to breathe imminent and you pull away. J barely looks out of breath but his next words give it away. “Go-od morning, beautiful. And you are beautiful.” 

“Mornin’, J. Peppermint.” You feel Pat curl into your back, resuming his previous position, and J plops back down in front of you, lying on his back again. You lie back down on his chest and Pat shuffles across the bed to get to where you are; for nowhere can either you or J go without Pat following, and the variants of the same formula also stand to be true. You sigh heavily. “I don’t wanna get up.” 

“Take ya’ time, doll. Ain’t no rush. The day, ah - starts when you do, hm?” J’s hand rubs up and down your back in fluid, soothing motions, and Pat nuzzles his face into your neck, already desperate to go back to sleep. He so rarely gets all the sleep that he needs between school, J’s chaotic lack of a schedule and your own busy one, and any chance which he can get with you does he seize with all the passion with which he looks at life.

The decision to stay just as you are for just a little bit longer is acknowledged by all three of you, though it is left unvoiced. The three of you are so deeply intertwined, so intimately connected and so in love that you don’t even need words to communicate. That weight, low in your stomach which poisons your every thought and daily infiltrates your soul with the thickest of inks which leaves a stain upon the core of your being, is still there and perhaps it will be for a while. But that is okay, for you have J and you have Patrick. There is love within you and it also surrounds you. It caresses you and it keeps you safe and because of that, oh... and because of that will you always be able to make your way through the thickest of fogs, the most tempestuous of storms and the muddiest of puddles.

HL OT3: @tsukiakarinobara    @1-800-dead-inside  @antonija89 @hotpacino  @call-me-harley-quinn @jokershyena

#heath ledger #J x patrick x reader #patrick x J x reader #patrick verona #10 things i hate about you #ledger joker

[hotpotrandomfics]

Fifth Year AU: A  Reckless Caregiver and Confession

Summary: It has been a few weeks since the werewolf incident and Jason is trying to get back into his usual habits. Thought the boy hasn’t really let himself rest and today was the last day before he collapsed if not for a certain witch...

Word Count: 3,849

It was an earlier Saturday morning at Hogwarts, and the school was buzzing with students running to go to Hogsmeade for the first time or causing silly mischief to each other or the rival houses. Merula was at Quidditch practice and was a bit out of focus. Her frienemy was nowhere to be seen in the stands. She wondered where they were because they always came to watch Slytherin practice.

"So, if I add two Mistletoe Berries then my Antidote to Common Poisons will work fine?" asked a first-year Slytherin.

"Yes, but remember to keep attention to detail. Professor Snape doesn't appreciate any explosions in his class and will take house points." Jason yawned as he looked through the first-year notes and nodded in approval. "Now then can any of you three remember the counter curse charm?"

"Um, Infinite Incatium?" said a Hufflepuff first year.

"No, you?"

"Infinite Ractium!" a Gryffindor first year shouted.

"Shhh!" Madam Pince hissed at the study group.

"No shouting and wrong again," Jason pinched the bridge of his nose sighing. "Please tell me you all have been studying as I said to?"

The small group of first and second-year students looked at the Slytherin Prefect laughing nervously. Some seemed down disappointed as they knew he'd get upset. For the past few weeks, Jason had been tutoring many younger students. Jason had been famous with many of the younger students and praised as the "Nice Slytherin" and other variants of the sort. He didn't mind the compliments but didn't like his House being demeaned by those words. The students had been making progress albeit slow progress. Jason would almost spend at least three to four hours tutoring them. All of that plus his duties as a prefect, searching for the vaults and studying for his O.W.L's he'd been pushing his limits and only enough sleep to make it through the day.

"Finite Incantatem," Jason said as ran a hand through his hair, "remember it now because I won't be the one taking your test for you. You all need to be independent. Okay?"

"Yes sir." said one of the second years.

"You don't need to call me 'sir.' I'm only four years older than most of you. Anywho, you all know what you need to study on so take your time but not too long."

The study group responded to Jason and went back to studying their notes and calling Jason when needed. He had an easy way to explain how to go about solving the problems without answering. Doing that gave the students confidence in their knowledge and understanding of their academics.

After another hour of tutoring, the students left, and Jason was packing his satchel with his notes of his O.W.L's and the vaults. Somehow they always got mixed. As he made his way to the threshold leading out of the library a swing of dizziness hit him out of the blue causing him to lean against the doorframe.

"Well aren't you a sorry mess," said a voice Jason knew too well.

"I tend to look like that a lot from the gossip I hear apparently." Jason looked down at Merula in her Quidditch uniform. Beads of sweat rolling down the tips of her cheek. Somehow he found that seeing her like this made his heart beat fast. "H-hi Merula, how are you?"

"I'm amazing as always, but you seemed like you just fought a chimera or something."

"I did fight one some time ago." Jason laughed as he stood straight feeling the dizziness fade slightly.  "But not today, just a little tired after tutoring a few people. I'll live."

"I see." Merula eyed him with a raised eyebrow. "Well, I do hope the next time you fight a chimera I get to watch you fight it."

"Please don't wish that on me," he laughed then raised a hand to his mouth and yawning. "Anyway, I got to head to a meeting with Professor Snape."

"Why don't I accompany you?" Merula looked at Jason while fiddling with a piece of hair.

"W-well I always enjoy your company," Jason blushed while looking at her with a soft expression. "Shall we get some air before I meet Snape?"

"I don't see why not but it's raining so we should watch our step," Merula smiled leaning close to him prompting her chest.

"O-okay then." Jason's face became more flushed as she stared at him with the gems she called eyes. "Why is she so beautiful?" ran through his head.

The two Slytherins walked down the corridors of the castle till they reached the outer edge of the courtyard watching the rainfall. They chatted about the tutoring Jason was doing. Merula talked about a lot of the tricks she did. Some dangerous but somehow she pulled them off though Jason pointed out her little scratch on her elbows causing her to get defensive. That made him laugh even more.

"Oh stop laughing you buffoon!" she pouted. "I swear Aurelius I'm gonna-"

"Help!" shouted a Slytherin first-year boy.

The two fifth-years turned to the boy and looked at him seeing he was covered in scrapes and soaking wet.

"Jason, my sister fell into the Black Lake!"

"Calm down," Jason said as he kneeled to the kid's level placing a hand on his shoulder while speaking in a gentle voice. "Tell me what happened."

"We were skipping stones off the cliff to the east and these Gryffindor third years were harassing us, and then my sister tried to step up to them but slipped on her robes and-" the boy tried to say more but was choked up.

Without a moment's hesitation, Jason ran off leaving Merula with the young Slytherin boy. Merula followed behind and told the boy to find a teacher. She didn't know why but she had a feeling in her gut something worse was going to happen. Within a few moments, Jason had made it to the eastern cliff of the lake dropping his satchel and tossing his shirt, and diving into the lake off the cliff.

"Oh Merlin, please tell me that idiot didn't just..." Merula ran to the edge seeing Jason's stuff on the ground. "Aurelius, where are you?" she mumbled while looking at the surface of the lake. She started to panic slightly and started calling his name out.

A few moments later Jason broke the surface with the girl and making his way to the shore. He pulled his wand from his pocket and focused on the water in her lungs slowly dragging it out. The girl cough as she took a large gasp of air and looking around panicked. He carried the girl on his back while Merula met them with Jason things and a sigh of relief.

"You're an idiot and very reckless at times you know?" Merula looked up at the shirtless giant blushing and trying to avert her eyes from his torso. "Seriously, who dives headfirst into a lake from a cliff?"

"This idiot I guess," he laughed while patting her head gently, "I didn't mean to scare you."

Merula swatted his hand away while looking at him and reprimanding him for his carelessness. She normally wouldn't give a care at all about what he did, but she didn't want him to get hurt over something ridiculous or daring. The two dropped the girl off at the hospital wing to be examined by Madam Pomfrey. Professor McGonagall had shown up with the girl's brother.

"Mister Aurelius De Leone. Miss Snyde. I see you two are- the boy put some clothes on!" Professor McGonagall said sternly. "We are not barbarians here."

"Apologies professor," Jason said as he took back his shirt from Merula who didn't seem to keen on returning it.

"Thank you, now then this young man explained everything to me, and I see you've taken care of the matter?" she inquired.

"Yes, professor."

"For selflessness, I am granting twenty points to Slytherin."

"Thank you, Professor!" The two Slytherins said in unison.

A few minutes later Jason and Merula were walking down a corridor. Jason was regaling her in the meeting he had to have with Snape. Most of it was regular reporting on how Slytherin as a whole has been.

"So Aurelius," Merula looked at him, "how are you feeling?"

"I'm okay. Why do you ask?" Jason looked at her curiously.

"Come now; I'm not easily fooled. I can tell you're not alright. You've got bags under your eyes and as far as I can tell you're overworked," she looked at him with what seemed to be a concern in her eyes. "I mean that whole stunt you pulled off somehow an hour ago and still have the energy to spare?"

"When you put it like that it sounds like I'm not normal," as he did what was between snicker and yawn, "Merula I'm fine."

"Seriously? You fell asleep in Flying class and almost dislocated your arm." She frowned while placing her hands on her hips. "Not to mention you  tried showing the Depulso charm to first-years and almost knocked the cauldron through a window."

"Yeah but-"

"But nothing! Your shoulder hasn't fully healed, and you're still being reckless! Do you ever thinking of yourself?!"

"Merula I..." Jason muttered as his vision started to get dull.

"And you," she started to mumble while fiddling with pointer fingers in a circling motion, "missed me practicing too."

"Merula..."

"It's frustrating enough seeing you do all this while trying to find the vaults. Aurelius, I'm worried about you too believe it or not." Merula stomach felt like it was in knots trying to find the words to convey how she felt. "After the Greyback debacle started to realize I care about you. I care a lot actually and I-"

As Merula began uttering the words, she been digging to find but saw the tall boy lean against the on the verge of collapsing. She called for him, but everything sounded distorted as though Jason was underwater. He felt cold as he still hadn't changed his clothes after the whole lake fiasco. He tried to keep himself steady but felt his knees bulk and started plummeting forward to the ground. Luckily something soft and warm managed to keep him from hitting the ground.

"Hey, Jason?!" Merula called out to him as he muttered gibberish incoherently. "That's it; you need your bed and to change as well." She said as she tried to lift him.

"N-no, I got another study group to tutor later." He groaned trying to keep his balance but failing.

"Like hell you are! I'm taking back to the dorm!" Merula said as she slugged his arm over her shoulder.

"Merula I'll be fine. I swear I'll be fine-"

"No arguing!" she shouted while her eyes clashed with his. "Let someone else help with your burdens. You're not a one-man army so don't be so hardheaded about me helping you. You idiot."

Something about this concerned Merula made Jason's heart skip a beat. The last time they were this close was when they were running for their lives. It was amazing that a girl no more than 5'2 could hold a 5'10 boy was hilarious but scary too. He as he leaned his weight on her shoulder caught the essence of her flowing along his nostrils that was beyond intoxicating and made the dizziness amplified because of it. But it's wasn't a bad scent he thought.

After a few minutes of struggling, Merula managed to get Jason back to their door without too much trouble. No one was in the dorm from the look of it.

"Okay, let's get you upstairs?" Merula was glancing at him to make sure he was still conscious. "Hey now, don't pass out on me because we'll both fall."

"R-right," Jason muttered as they made their way to the boy's dorm. "Sorry if the room might be slightly messy."

"I think I can take a little messiness." Merula chuckled as she pushed the door open. "Huh, you call this messy?"

The two stepped in and walked to Jason's bed that was most well-kept in the room. His nightstand and a picture of what Merula assumed was his family. The nightstand was stacked with notebooks and parchment sticking out, one of the covers was "vault notes," and another was "tutoring guide."

"Alright, sit down, and I'll grab your clothes."

"You don't have to"

"I'm doing it whether you like it or not! Now sit!" Merula growled as she lowered him down on his bed.

"Yes, ma'am."

Merula went through his drawer pulling out a tank top and his pajama pants. She placed them on his nightstand while she grabbed his towel he slung on his chair. She began drying his hair gently. The sound of thunder roared through the castle causing her to jump on Jason. A storm must have been rolling in, and everyone who's out in Hogsmeade without a doubt won't be able to come back anytime soon.

"Sorry, are you okay?" Merula looked up at him nervously.

"Y-yeah." He blushed as he felt her chest pressing against him and her breath grazing his neck. "Are you okay-"

"I'm was caught off guard. Not like I'm scared of thunder; don't be ridiculous." She said defensively.

"I didn't say you were scared did I?" he smiled at her nervously.

"No, you didn't," she muttered as she pushed herself up from his chest. "You need to get changed," she said as she started unbuttoning his shirt.

"Um Merula, I can handle getting changed you don't need to"

"I said I am helping you now shut up." She said trying not to blush as she looked down at him. "It's not like this isn't weird for me." She glanced down at his chest seeing some of the scars he bared. "Why do you have these?"

"You don't want to know." Jason crimsoned with embarrassment.

"Tell me," she asked as she traced a finger down a scar located on his abdomen.

"Some are from back home. Some from the vaults or whatever mess I find myself," he looked up at her.

"And from saving me," she mumbled as she pushed his left sleeve off and tracing the newest one to his collection. "You don't know how to think of yourself."

"Never have," Jason laughed softly as he pushed himself on his elbows. "Did I ever tell you how pretty you are?"

"What? Now I know you're losing it." Merula couldn't help but smile at the compliment despite herself. "Let me finish this so you can sleep and get your senses back."

"I'm being serious Merula."

"Just keep quiet for like five minutes and stop being weird."

What felt like an eternity passed by with Merula helping Jason get changed. She let Jason handle putting his pajama pants on while she had her back turned. She was tempted to steal a glance at his bare body. The sound of the belt from his pants hitting the ground rang in a loop in her head. By the time she couldn't bear it as she snuck a glance seeing he'd secured his pajama pants but still didn't have his shirt on. Was his back always that muscular she thought as she eyed him and bit her lip. Jason sat back on his bed despite his not wanting to while his back was turned to her. All of a sudden Jason felt arms wrap around him and something soft and firm pressing against his shoulder blades.

"Merula?"

"Do you think I'm beautiful?" she asked as she placed her forehead to his left shoulder holding him tight.

"I do."

"Why?"

"Isn't it obvious? I thought even you would notice." Jason placed a hand over hers. "Or at least have an idea."

"I guess what you said a few weeks back was just my hopeful thinking or the blood lose getting to your head." Merula smiled as she turned his head to face her. Eyes locked. "Should we continue where we left off that day?"

"I thought you wanted me to get sleep?" he teased as he caressed her cheek.

"I will do as I please thank you!" she smirked as she cupped his chin.

"Then..."

The two leaned into each other finally having their lips met for the first time. It was soft and gentle like the petal of roses grazing the other or the sensation of when a gentle stream grazes the skin. The two parted blushing while smiling at each other. Jason turned to face her leaning in to renew it. Merula obliged by pulling him gently from the nape of his neck while he inched her closer by pulling her by her waist. Something in her snapped as she climbed onto his lap kissing him more passionately pushing him down. Jason wrapped his arm around her pulling her close to him. Hands were reaching and clawing each other's bodies. Fingers were brushing the supple lines of waist and chest, trying to feel more and more as the hunger rose. Their lips and tongues continued battling more ferociously as the tension from the years just spilled out. They parted briefly to catch their breath before they renewed it he took control and pinned her down kissing her more sensually.

"Why didn't we do this sooner?" She asked as she pecked his lips softly running her finger down his chest. "Bloody hell, I didn't think you'd be such a good kisser."

"I've wanted to for the longest time but feared you hate me or kill me if I tried anything," Jason smiled at her kissing her again. "And this my first time kissing anyone too."

"I probably would have hurt you in the past but I..." she blushed as she looked at the daunting man over her. "I'm happy I can give mine in exchange for yours."

"Merula I care about you deeply and-" before he could finish she placed a finger to his lip.

"I know, and honestly I feel the same. Jason, I like you too." She bit her lip as she caressed his jawline. "I have for some time now."

"Merula," Jason smiled as he looked into her gorgeous eyes that encourage him to think things any boy would keep quiet about.

The two gazed at each other with such intense lust and continued with their duel of the mouths. Merula wrapped her arms around his torso slowly dragging her nails down as she grew more desperate with their activity. He moaned as her nails marked him, he usually protests pain, but this was one he could get used to.

"You need to get to sleep," she whimpered as Jason kissed along her jaw to her neck. His breath was tickling her but somehow made her excited. "I'm serious Aurelius. Jason, please~."

"S-sorry, I don't know what came over me. I guess I was just excited to kiss you and finally-" Jason blushed as he started to ramble nervously.

"You fancy me a lot?" Merula pushed herself up on her elbows and smiled at him.

"Since our first year." He scratched the back of his neck while smiling down at her.

"Seriously? Why didn't you say anything?" she moved up to sit and looked at him taking his face into her palm.

"I was afraid you'd reject me." He looked down feeling his nerves jump at her gentle touch. "We fought for so many years and I know I said mean things to you out of my insecurities and pain. Stuff I regret to this day even though all I wanted was to keep close to you. I'm sorry."

Merula looked at him dumbfounded. Sure, they fought in the past but back then Merula was filled with anger and loneliness. She never really hated him; in fact, she felt like Jason was one of the few people capable of understanding her. He cared for her and tried to be a friend to her even when she repeatedly pushes him away. If there was a thing that made her feel happy in this world was that this boy, -this man, never gave up on her and always reached out his hand.

"You don't need to apologize," Merula pulled him close, bearing his face into her soft and plump bosom. "I will admit I acted like an arse to you on one too many times. So I understand why you would have been angry at me."

"Still I..."

"Jason, you've done so much for me, and I have my answer for your question." She kissed the top of his head. "Well I gave it to you moments ago before we started our 'duel' and I fancy you too. So um does this mean we are, you know?"

"Boyfriend and girlfriend? If the most intelligent and beautiful witch in all of Hogwarts would have me be then yes." Jason chuckled.

"Okay, then but I got some conditions. One, I can only be yours, and you are mine. Two, we have to keep it secret for a little while. I don't want your friends to think I bewitched you."

"You already did with those eyes of yours." He giggled as he felt the dizziness slowly come back.

"Oh quiet you! Three, most important, n-never be reckless for my sake. I almost lost you and me -," Merula was caught off by Jason giving her a peck on a cheek and offering a playful wink.

"Can't follow the last one because I do it again and again." He smiled as slowly lost consciousness. "You're important to me," he muttered as he drifted into slumber from his exhaustion.

"Guess so," Merula smiled as Jason's head was nuzzled in her breast. "Sweet dreams Jason," she whispered as she caressed his hair gently.

An hour later, Merula snuck her way out of the boy's dorm and made her way into her room. She laid down in her bed grinning like a fool in love, which she was, and couldn't help but squeal happily as Jason and she are now an item. Truth be told Merula had fancied him for some time but was too nervous to say anything. Now, it was as if a dream came true, and kept giggling about it until a second-year Slytherin girl walked over to her holding what seemed to be a box of candy in the shape of a heart.

"What?!" Merula looked at them with a raised brow as she sat up on the edge of her bed.

"Excuse me, Merula, um do you know where Jason is? He supposed to have a study group in the library."

"He's resting now, and you'll have to wait till he gets some sleep. Aurelius has been working his hide off to help you a lot so let the man rest!" she growled. "Study amongst yourselves."

"Yes ma'am!" the girl ran out terrified.

She sighed as she laid back down and slowly drifted off into sleep. It seems she needed to sleep too and knew her dreams were to be filled with nothing but happy thoughts thanks to her new joy.

#harry potter hogwarts mystery #hp hogwarts mystery #hphm #hphm fanfiction #hphm fic #fanfiction #fanfic #jason piscius aurelius de leone #merula snyde #jason x merula #jacob's sibling x merula

[lapusas]

in a way, you’re rather pleased with your current situation, the shadow presence of the threat of kara notwithstanding.     ever the optimist, eh ??     you can’t help it though, not really, not in this case, as with many other cases.

you have acquired a nasty habit of talking any chance you get about the entire village being the hokage’s family, yet, as boruto never failed to point out, you hardly got the chance to spend time with your immediate family.     or rather, you hardly allowed yourself the chance, the martyr syndrome well & kicking as you shift from sacrificing bodily safety to sacrificing mental well - being.     & physical well - being  ;     for all your oversleeping in mornings, you actually sleep very little, & most of your wakefulness is either energy drink induced or stress induced.     artificial & naturally manufactured, somewhere between the two.

but in keeping an eye on kawaki, & in the days since your watch over him began, you’ve shifted the priorities of your shadow clone allotment   ( you vaguely remember telling boruto once that you wouldn’t dare place a shadow clone in the hokage’s office.     hah.     well.    ) .     with remaining by the boy’s side, you’ve ended up spending more time around hinata & the kids than you have since you became hokage   ---   which, great, dream achieved, but gods did you miss spending time with your family.     actual family, not symbolical hokage family, much as you care for the village.

you’ve gotten to be the one to greet hinata home for once, you’ve gotten to dole out near spoiling amounts of attention to himawari   ( who’s been absolutely beaming about this fact ) , at least when kawaki’s been docile enough to not need to worry about a bickering fit erupting behind your back with boruto, boruto who, despite his grumbling you are inclined to agree with your daughter, has very much enjoyed your recently consistent presence at the dining table ...

& then there’s kawaki...

so ...

he’s recently started calling you   “ dad ” .

you felt a a wave of mental apologies being sent iruka - sensei’s way at your response the first few times, quiet &   “ do not make a big deal out of this i will even say please ”   as they were, the parallel to your former teacher’s response to you doing the same when you were around kawaki’s age crashing its way into your stinging eyes with the force of a bijuu bomb.     needless to say, you’ve since formed a silent solidarity with iruka - sensei over picking up responsibility for a lonely, bearing - power - he - didn’t - ask - for, & love - starved child & your continued expressions of trust & concern for his well - being resulting in the very tearful realization that you’ve ended up mutually adopting each other as family when said child calls you   “ dad ” .

except, you usually have stuck to calling iruka - sensei   “ iruka - sensei ” , even when he’s insisted that he’s long since stopped being your teacher   ( not that that particularly matters, not to you who still calls yamato - taichou   “ yamato - taichou ”   & will likely never stop calling ero - sennin   “ ero - sennin ”   even in serious conversation ) .

kawaki has all but entirely stopped calling you variations of   “ lord seventh ” , at least around the house, that you’ve noticed.     what that means to you, &, more importantly, what that means for kawaki ...     there’s something about that.     it makes your chest sting a little but also warm, & you realize you’ve been smiling stupidly into your half empty bowl for the past five minutes of dinner when hinata prods at your hand with a chopstick & repeats your name for probably at least the third time.     she asks if you’re okay & you nod & say yeah, sure, of course like you always do, except this time around it actually sounds somewhat convincing.

another second & you decide that you are, in fact, going to make your marshmallow heart everyone else’s problem.

boruto starts excusing himself from the table, finished eating, but you halt him halfway across the room with a hold up, getting up & stopping somewhere in the middle of boruto & the table.     hinata has, no doubt, already recognized the expression on your face ‘cause she is looking at you with that soft, good - willed smile that makes you feel even more sentimentally sappy & you end up putting more of a slightly childish demand in your tone than you’d intended as you spread your arms out & announce  :        ❛     that’s it, dad’s feelin’ mushy, that means it’s family bearhug time  ;     get in here.     ❜

himawari grins open - mouthed & is only all too eager to get in there, after wolfing   ( foxing ??     ... kurama isn’t amused )   down the rest of her food, of course, so you give her a specially tight separate hug before hinata joins in & your arms are officially opened for everyone.     boruto hangs back feigning annoyance & you hardly need to tell him to get on over, kiddo for him to get on over.

you then look to the table & notice kawaki has yet to move much from his seat.     you smile, warm as the late spring sun, & tell him with a slight humor to your tone & nod of your head,      ❛     family bearhugs are good for the heart.     now, c’mere.    ❜

he seems to hesitate a little, but eventually shuffles over into the empty space waiting for him to complete the little group, & the moment he’s in place your arms tighten around everyone & you thank whatever heavens deigned you worthy of two growth spurts because your relative size allows you to near completely wind around your family & they fit perfectly in your hold.

himawari’s buried her face in your stomach, small but ferocious hands gripping at you with the same strength of your initial individual hug.     hinata’s got one arm on himawari & the other on the boys, head resting against the crook of your neck & you can’t help pressing your cheek against the top of her head when you tighten the hold of your hug.     boruto’s in much the same position as himawari, holding onto you about as tightly, no doubt hiding his face against you in silent giddy embarrassment   ( you can practically feel him grinning through the layers of fabric ) .

kawaki   ...   doesn’t seem sure of what to do other than stand there & take the hug, but you kind of get that.     hugs tend to be jarring at first when you’ve been deprived of such contact for too long.     you kind of really get that.     the hand closest to him reaches up & ruffles at the boy’s hair before just   ...   resting there against the back of his head, not unlike the first time you hugged him.     it feels right.

you stand still like that for a few more seconds before winding your arms tight as they can around everyone again in one final affectionate smother, & you know you’ve squeezed the living daylights outta them when hima & boruto start laughing their variants of   “ daaaaad ”   with a slight wheeze.     you laugh in return & loosen your grip & boruto uses the chance to slip out entirely, still half laughing, saying something about suffocating if he stays in there any longer.

❛     welp, i was gonna end it off there with a ludicrously sappy   “ i love you all ” , but you went & spoiled that moment.     ❜     you can’t help smiling even as you try to say it with a straight face & end up laughing as boruto retreats with a grin announcing he’s going to bed.          ❛     sleep tight !!    ❜

the hug has more or less dispersed with that, though himawari’s still loyally clinging to you, & you remove the hands still on hinata & kawaki to pry off the little cub only to pick her up & let her sit in your arms long enough to lightly touch at her nose with a      ❛     you should be heading to bed, too, hima,     ❜     before handing her over to hinata with a kiss to her forehead.

you stand in the middle of the room, watching the two of them disappear off upstairs, waving a nighty - night to a now sleepy - looking himawari with a soft smile.

& then you’re left alone, along with kawaki, & all you can do is sigh in earnest contentment,     ❛     family’s great.     ❜          the everything of it sounds corny & hardly necessary, even to you, but you only say it because it’s true.     & you know that something similar, at least in sentiment, is going through kawaki’s mind.     & you know how sometimes it helps reaffirm the positive if someone else says the same thing you’re thinking out loud.

you throw another soft smile kawaki’s way.     then you proceed to return to the table & scarf down the leftovers in your bowl, resuming the usual evening motions, as though a family bearhug hadn’t interrupted the whole thing.

#know that i am staring directly at gar while posting this #under a cut bc :-) 1.4k words but #anyway i was feelin real 🥺 at 3am yday & wrote like 2/3rds of this in notepad on my phone dskfjghsd #this is dumb & sappy & selfindulgent as fuck & im thriving #* !! ic // dialogue.

[space-blue]

The Dreamcaster

Bit of a filthy love letter to Inception.

I saw the trap the moment I stepped into the parlour.

The goons stood out like warts on a Courtesan's smooth backside. Such glaring display was surely bait, inviting nervous people to lose their cool and turn around.

I walked past with the carefree gait and flowing robes of a rich patron. I didn't let my gaze linger on them, the man I played tonight would be too righteous to care. I reached the counter and asked to join the public session, two hours worth of Dream. I gave my fake name and ID, paid in cash. The men didn't react to me but that guaranteed nothing, so I started a mental list of potential enemies. I knew of five serious ones, six, if counting personal vendettas. I reviewed grudges in order of threat and seriousness as the young hostess showed the way to a lounge-room.

I wondered if it could be Hamsworth keeping tabs on me. I was months behind the man's deadline. I love deadlines, especially the noise they make as they fly by.

The goons could be some of my target's henchmen, left in the lobby while their master drooled in some drug infused paradise, but that would be an unexplainable change of attitude. After all, my target kept his Dream addiction so secret that he always moved alone and disguised himself a lot more than I ever care to and I'm the outlaw.

I am a Dreamcaster. One plagued with a busy body and mind.

I could never settle for the easy life of a parlour, making up worlds for anxious patrons to play in, managing them down rosy plots to ludicrous, fulfilling ends that would leave sweet submemories to mend their broken souls. Humdrum, wretched work! I strive on challenges. I cast like no one else: I can fake true life, give a taste to sounds, I can imagine colours that don't exist. I can take a Dreamer by the hand and have him walk me through his mind-palace with pride and honour. Which is, incidentally, one of the many aspects that make me a criminal, and the very task I was paid to execute tonight.

The hostess opened the door of a small, cushioned room. She smiled as she handed me a tray with needles, plastic straps and a little piece of disinfecting gauze. She left to fetch a vial of this session's Dream. No prattle, no explanations. No need for them: my arms were already out of my sleeves, both covered with the black tattoos that ran along the veins of professionals and junkies alike.

I wasn't done disinfecting myself when the door opened again.

'That was fast.'

The laugh that answered was manly. I didn't make it to my feet before other manly things crashed against me and pined me to the cushions. Four men loomed above, three holding me and one flicking at the glass of a syringe with a smile, all strangers. They had the rough faces of long-time mercenaries.

'I can inject myself, thanks,' I said, dripping sarcasm and not quite breaking character yet.

The fourth man laughed again and bent down to where his colleague held my right arm in a lock.

'I very much doubt you would.'

Then I saw the syringe properly. Its long needle dripped black. My whole body broke in a sweat.

'Oh no, no, no, you can't! Fuck, mate, you can't! Not Nightmare! Why?!'

The man plunged the needle in the dark maze of my tattooed veins. I shrieked, giving it all I had while the black sludge sank into me.

'You've been a bad man Mr Kureno,' the man said.

'Well, what the fuck does that make you mate?!'

'I'm only a delivery man. You should be grateful, now you'll be sleeping too tight to feel the trip.'

'To where? To whom?'

Darkness choked my thoughts before he could answer.

I started awake, panting, sweat plastering my hair to my skull. I was home, sitting in my bed, jumped halfway out of my kimono, sheets rumpled around my legs. Nightmares of thugs putting me under Nightmare? Next level shit. Probably a stray natural dream.

'Kure?'

I perked up. It was my mother calling me.

'Kureno?'

I froze. Yes. It was my mother. My ten-years-dead mother, coming up the stairs of a house I had burned down myself the day she'd died.

I looked at the crook of my arm and saw some gauze covering the vein the villains had pricked in that nightmare. I reached for it and started to pull. The skin came out with the gauze, flesh sloughing off my arm.

A false awakening! These men had really put me under to take me somewhere! In a second I was on my feet, dread pushing my stomach up my throat. I reached inwards, using the mental cues to access old memories.

I was trained in Nightmare, more than most too, but that meant nothing. With Nightmare, you had the stuff five times in your life and you were a veteran! I have thousands of hours of work on Dream, my brain grew on the drug, developed my reflexes for it. Nightmare stimulates different networks, it warps your subconscious perceptions, reverses the laws of the whole game. It would play my own habits against me.

I squatted, gathering myself for the push that ought to get me flying. Instead the air turned to thick jelly against my body, gravity pressing me to the floor.

Typical Nightmare dynamics.

'Kureno?'

My mother opened the door. She looked at me with empty eye-sockets, her twisted mouth pulled taunt against white jaw bones.

'What is it child,' she asked, reaching for my face, 'why won't you come down?'

I made to step back, my feet dragging, her hand just as slowly brushing past me, a battle in slow-motion.

'You're dead you know?' I said to my mother's dried, charred face. 'I burnt the house to the ground with you in it. That's why you're here. No matter how right it was to do, it's still the stuff of nightmare, these memories.'

With some effort I cleared my mind to trigger a new iteration. The nightmare reset itself, and as my old house and dead mother disappeared, I fell.

I tore through the air, an upside down townscape blurring in my sight. The sensation of falling was so vivid I cried in panic. None of my probes shaped the world as they should. I was in true free fall.

'Hey!'

I twisted around to find a man falling with me. Tall, lanky, with short, jet black hair over green eyes, my spitting image without any tattoos: my twin brother, Koharu. His aura however did not match his body. It was, and wasn't my brother. Such misplacement is common in natural dreams, and it felt aweful.

'Kureno,' my brother's image called, coming down on a level with me, 'grab my hand!'

'Fuck off.'

'Kureno, you'll die if you don't!'

I flipped over, feet down to the abyss of the sky, arms catching the wind, the crazy shapes of the world swirling out of reach.

'It's a Nightmare. Dying would just start a new iteration!'

'The ground is coming up,' he yelled, horror in his voice. It was. Somehow the sky had become a solid thing. Koharu caught my loose kimono, and I grabbed for his hand to pull him close.

It broke.

Shattered at the wrist like a twig, a flawed porcelain handled too rough. We stared at each other, stupefied, swallowed by the certainty of our death.

Reality hit me like a ton of brick.

I was on all fours, retching. Waking isn't like in movies, when you're never sure if you aren't still dreaming. Puking your guts out while awake never feels dreamy enough for such doubts. Koharu's hand was on my back, holding me while I gathered my wits. We were in a corner of his lab. I remembered now, my twin injecting me with his latest batch of so-called "innovation". We often work together. He's the smart one, I'm the artist.

'How much are you paying me to trial that black crap again?' I asked, wiping my face with a trembling hand.

'We'll discuss a raise once you've spat your analyses. Out with it, I want it fresh!'

'First iteration was incredible convincing. Instinctual theme, solid narrative structure, I was working a Tour-type Dreamcast. Paranoia heavy, but lowered wariness.' I detailed the attack, the subsequent false awakening, the free-fall, reviewed my feelings and sensations. 'If I hadn't woken up in our old house I might not have realised I was on Nightmare at all. Mother was there.'

We exchanged glassy looks.

'I could reset the iteration,' I went on, 'but other commands were completely ineffective. Whatever you're planning to do with this new variant, it will throw off anyone, trained or not.'

'Kureno,' he said, smirking at me with my very own favourite grin, 'this new Nightmare will throw off the whole world.'

~~ March 2016 – Nightmares

#original work #original story #competition #fantasy #nightmare

[fictionalarsonist]

bad endings and new beginnings - part II

pairing ›_ meanie ; mentions of woncheol ; mentions of seungcheol ⨯ twice nayeon | content ›_angst ; fluff ; mingyu is good at cooking ; mild language ; cheating | rating ›_pg | word count ›_2.9k

―

premise ›_Mingyu had never been in a relationship before, but being with Wonwoo makes him want nothing else but. But, Wonwoo’s too attached to the past and it makes Mingyu’s too uncertain of his place.   ›  One-liners Inspired Drabbles  ― #1. “Sleep in your car if you don’t like it.”

credit to @mingyuistall for beta-reading this for me. ty, hun!

「 ao3 | masterlist | buy me a coffee | commission」

[ part 1 | part 2 ]

“I know I was in the wrong,” Seungcheol tries again, pulling his upper lip between his teeth, “But I-” Wonwoo watches Seungcheol swallow hard, his eyes desperate to be understood, “Wonwoo, I know now how it is to be without you.”

These were the words Wonwoo’s been longing to hear, Wonwoo picture those words in so many variants coming from Seungcheol’s lips. He tossed and turned in bed over the days along these months and only recently he stopped doing this. He found some comfort in Mingyu’s arms and it made him feel guilty now that he thought about it- Wonwoo wouldn’t want to be this kind of person. To use a Mingyu because he wants to get over Seungcheol, it’s just not fair.

“I know now what is like to not have you there-”

The word that seemed to be missing, the word that Wonwoo feels like Seungcheol held back was “waiting”. Seungcheol misses having Wonwoo there, waiting for him. Staying put for when Seungcheol needs.

“I want- I wish you could give us another chance. I’ll do anything -” Seungcheol pleads, “I want you. I should’ve chosen us from the get-go.”

The way Seungcheol’s fingertips pressed on his palm is one of the things Wonwoo used to miss the most; he didn’t think he’d pull his hand away when Seungcheol finally moved his hands, pressing his fingertips on his palm, tracing lines in his hand. But he did, Wonwoo pulled away before Seungcheol could intertwine their fingers; Seungcheol gapes, his hand curling into a fist to fill the emptiness left by Wonwoo’s hold.

“You were going to marry someone and still you never bothered to say a word to me!” Wonwoo heard the words falling from his lips before he could hold himself back, they were the words Jihoon reasoned with him, words he refused to acknowledge because he believed in Seungcheol. God! He couldn’t feel any more pathetic.

“I understood when you said you weren’t ready to let people know about- you. About us.” Wonwoo continues and Seungcheol falters again, looking everywhere for something to contest Wonwoo’s words, but there was nothing he could say and Wonwoo went on as soon as he saw Seungcheol realizing it, “You let me believe that I had a- a chance, I thought―” Wonwoo swallows, feeling himself faltering. “I thought you loved me-”

For all that it’s worth, he spent too much time going over all the moments he was pushed away, hidden, ignored and kept thinking Seungcheol just wasn’t ready to let others know. It never occured to Wonwoo that he was- a dirty little secret, one Seungcheol never meant to reveal.

Wonwoo frowns and stops himself, pressing his lips close.

“But I- I did. I do , I- love you,” Seungcheol insists and to Wonwoo it’s so painfully obvious Seungcheol just trying to convince himself , “I want you, Wonwoo” he repeats and Wonwoo looks away only to be surprised, seeing Mingyu walk past the restaurant.

“I don’t think that’s true,” Wonwoo looks back at him and these words don't weigh as much as he thought it would once he says it out loud. On the contrary, he finds himself smiling and shifting his feet in anticipation as he looks at Seungcheol again, “And, you know what?” A chuckle fell from his lips, “I’m sorry. I think I made a mistake, this- this is a mistake.”

Seungcheol moves to his feet as Wonwoo does, blocking his way and stopping his hands from reaching for the coat and groceries on the seat next to him. Seungcheol wets his lips and Wonwoo must be too nice because he does, he waits until Seungcheol takes a breath to conceal the panic in his eyes. He doesn’t seem to believe Wonwoo’s refusing him and, to be honest, Wonwoo’s not quite believing himself either. He looks away for a moment and sees Mingyu crossing the street, Mingyu will be at the condo soon- he has to be there too.

“I’m sorry, Cheol,” Seungcheol was taken back and Wonwoo surprised himself at how easily the nickname fell from his lips, with no resentment or hurt in his voice.

“Wait! Wait. Wonwoo, just wait a moment, okay?” Seungcheol tries, “Let’s talk-”

“We just did! Look, I have to go home,” Wonwoo moves away from him with the last word he just said bubbling delicious in his tongue. He’s not running somewhere empty and alone like always, he’s going home and Mingyu will be there too.

Seungcheol watches Wonwoo glance at the chart with prices hanging on the wall nearby and places the notes on the table before looking at him once again.

“Mister?” Seungcheol snaps his head, practically scaring the waitress, “I’m sorry, but- Should I take these away?”

Seungcheol looks at her hand motioning to Wonwoo’s untouched food.

“Uh- Yeah, sure,” he mumbles, fumbling his pockets to get his wallet, “How much is it?” Seungcheol sputtered all the while glancing at the price chart and placing the whole amount on the tray the waitress’ holding.

“Sir, you have to pay at the cashier-”

“You do this for me, yeah? Here’s a tip,” Seungcheol carelessly leaves the money and rushes out of the restaurant with the money Wonwoo left on the table in his hand. As soon as Seungcheol steps out, he looks left and right before realizing he doesn’t really know which way is Wonwoo’s place.

Wonwoo smiles as soon as he turns the corner and sees Mingyu just about to cross it.

“Hey! Kim Mingyu?”

Mingyu turned at his name being called, quite amused when he saw Wonwoo and completely oblivious to the bicycle's bell ringing behind him. He frowns when Wonwoo’s smiling face turns into a concern as he rushes over to him. Mingyu turns his back to the busy traffic and Wonwoo arrives just in time to pull him away from an accident, stealing a silent gasp from him. Wonwoo smiles in relief once the potential danger is gone and Mingyu only realizes when his eyes follow Wonwoo’s and watch him apologize to the frantic, pissed off cyclist.

“You’re okay, right?” Wonwoo asks, his smile slowly curling his lips again and Mingyu’s still astounded to say anything, “Mingyu?”

“Huh?” Normally would find it irritating if someone chuckled like that at him because he looked dumb, despite knowing he probably looks pretty dumfounded right now. But, surprisingly enough he doesn’t seem to care about it because Wonwoo looks breath-taking up close.

“Are you okay?”

Mingyu swallows with a broken side smile and forces his eyes away from Wonwoo’s lips and the way they part to pull himself together and step away, clearing his throat. For once in his life feeling disconcerted, not with the situation but rather with the way his heart beats erratically, more so when Wonwoo laughs at his lost expression with his cheeks tinted in a pink color.

“Yeah, I’m fine and uhm- thank you. By the way,” Mingyu found himself to say once he regained his cool, steeping away and clearing his throat yet again as Wonwoo gives him a onceover to make sure he’s fine.

“I’m sorry I distracted you”

“So, you’re taking the responsibility now?” MIngyu can’t help but notice how Wonwoo's eyes still seem filled with worry and it caused him to try his usual nonchalant tone to voice a reply, though even for his ears, it sounds off.

“Sort of,” Wonwoo shrugged and his eyes fell on the grocery bags in Mingyu’s hand, “What’s all that?”

“Oh,” Mingyu’s eyes fall on his groceries as well, “These-”

The insignificant weight hanging from his fingers had been forgotten, but it all comes rushing in as a flashback when he thinks about it. Even though he left a good number of things back at that cashier, he’s still taking quite a lot with him, but those are quite important key ingredients. Mingyu doesn’t want to depend on any unhealthy excuse of a diet Wonwoo maintains in his fridge to increment today’s dinner.

“Just something for dinner,” Mingyu tries his best to sound casual, feeling particularly embarrassed and Wonwoo frowns.

“With all that?” Wonwoo gapes rather comically and looks up at him, “You, me and who else is coming?”

“It’s just us” Mingyu corrects with a feigned complaint, thinking that maybe this way this simple two-letter word won’t put on the same weight that it carries on his tongue.

It’s exquisite how disconcerted Mingyu feels. He steps to stand beside Wonwoo, feeling childish, somewhat like the stupid teenager he once was when his knuckles brushes the back of Wonwoo’s hand and his skin tingles, as if it’s celebrating, but, at the same time, aching to touch. Mingyu grips on his grocery bags, watching the cars rushing by in front of them while the traffic light flashes green above their heads. Mingyu finds himself sucking a gush of air sharply, considering to switch the groceries to the other hand just so he could hold Wonwoo’s hand; he was never the type of person to hold himself back anyways.

“Come on”

Mingyu’s startled back in reality by Wonwoo’s voice before feeling the hand on his back, gently urging him to walk. Mingyu has never been the kind of guy of holding back without a good reason and he doesn’t miss Wonwoo's surprised expression when their fingers intertwine.

“You left before me,” Mingyu comments absentmindedly, “How come I meet you now?”

“I’ll tell you later,” Wonwoo said, pressing the pad of his thumb on Mingyu’s knuckle.

Mingyu catches on Wonwoo’s uneasiness, but holds back any remark, it’s not his place to ask. Not really.

***

Wonwoo messes his hair running his fingers through it as he walks to the bed. Mingyu seems quite comfortable laying there, fumbling with his phone. It’s kind of like earlier, Wonwoo half-smiles as he remembers the sight in his kitchen when he walked in. Mingyu had gotten rid of his coat, his suit and tie, loosed the dress shirt, pulled up the sleeves and borrowed Wonwoo’s apron, something Wonwoo barely uses himself. Despite being something close to a stranger, Mingyu seemed quite well-suited and laid in his kitchen, as if it was his place to begin with. The food was great despite all his provocations about it during the meal.

“What are you smiling at?” Mingyu asked as Wonwoo laid down by his side, at a good distance from him.

This was different even from him, this domestic-like situation, but felt natural. Having Wonwoo laid beside him like this, it’s something Mingyu suddenly saw himself appreciating, he usually goes home to an empty place, alone and never really felt the need to change that, but Wonwoo makes him think about it . Mingyu lost focus on whatever he’s been doing on his phone, but keeps pretending anyway because he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself.

“You don’t look like you’d be good at cooking,” Wonwoo confesses absentmindedly, his eyes wandering somewhere else as he pulls the covers over himself. Trying not to think of the gap between Mingyu and him on the bed. “You really looked like you knew what you were doing”

Mingyu chuckles heartedly.

“You looked like you know what you’re doing,” Wonwoo teased and Mingyu smirked

“So, did I impress you?” Mingyu provokes, “Or are you saying that just so you won’t sleep in your car?”

Wonwoo scoffs.

“It wasn’t terrible, ” he provokes, “But maybe I’ll have a fixed verdict at breakfast”

“You need to think it through the night?” Mingyu smiles

“No,” Wonwoo states, “But my final judgement will be the breakfast you promised”

Mingyu squints.

“I- didn’t promise you breakfast,” he tries stealing a glance at Wonwoo.

“You mentioned, ” Wonwoo points it out ever so cunningly, he’s laying tad lower than Mingyu on the bed and he tilts his head up ever so slightly, without really being able to see Mingyu, but enough to attract Mingyu’s eyes to him.

“No, I didn’t,” Mingyu corrects, “I said, some of those ingredients I got would be good for breakfast too”

“Oh! Was it?”

Mingyu catches an absentminded smile on Wonwoo’s lips. Mingyu gives up on pretending to be checking his phone, then and sets it aside.

“Wonwoo-”

Mingyu doesn’t quite know what to say next, there’s something he wants too say. Actually, more than just one thing and he doesn’t know how to start with them.

“What?” Wonwoo replies and the word comes out as if in a quiet hum.

“Won’t you come closer?” Mingyu provokes, “Do you intend to stay this far the whole night?” He tries his playful tone, “Thought we were way past this phase-”

Wonwoo humphs , as if in annoyance, but moves closer anyways. Mingyu soon feels Wonwoo pressing on his side, but still laying a little lower than him. Mingyu moves his arms as Wonwoo lays his head down.

“What’s-” Wonwoo jolts and looks down at Mingyu’s arm placed under his head.

“Just lay down~” Mingyu says, throwing him a quick glance and Wonwoo does as said.

“Shouldn’t you start calling hyung? ” Mingyu raises an eyebrow, looking down at Wonwoo, “I’m over a year older than you, you know?”

Mingyu feels Wonwoo’s warm body pressed on his side and he feels himself relaxing a little more at this. It finally gives him the courage to consider talking what it’s been in his mind; only if Wonwoo gives him the chance to. However, it feels like their dancing around the matter, Wonwoo seems to know and he knows it too- and, perhaps, that’s why Wonwoo doesn’t seem willing to lay down beside him.

“Alright, then-” Mingyu replies simply, swallowing the tense feeling that weighs on his chest, “ I'll start calling you hyung if you answer me properly this time ”

Mingyu glances down and sees Wonwoo frowning at the ceiling and fidgeting with the duvet.

“Answer you about what?” Wonwoo's answer comes out strangled and Mingyu can’t be more sure that answering that is unnecessary. Wonwoo knows, but he does anyway.

“What is it that you’d tell me later?” Mingyu tries and somewhere as he speaks his courage is substituted by uncertainty. Mingyu doesn’t feel in the place to ask those things, Wonwoo never promised him anything, never said anything, this is him being induced by Jeonghan’s fantasies and he’s letting himself being led on, unable to stop himself now. “I mean… About what you said earlier at the-”

“Will you call me hyung if I answer that?” Wonwoo tries a playful tone yet again, but it falls dead between them.

A silence fills the space left where words could be unnecessarily said and Mingyu looks at the ceiling too. His eyes restless, looking at nothing in particular, his mind delving in too many thought and none all at the same time. The uncertainty and restlessness inside of him contrasted with the quietness of the room. Mingyu took in a quieting, deep breath and Wonwoo waited a moment after to speak up again.

“I-” Wonwoo starts with hesitancy, pulling on his lips, trying out the words in his mind before saying them, “I met Seungcheol today.”

To Wonwoo those words feel light as feathers, but the weight lifted from his chest makes him breathe so much better now- If only Mingyu would say something back.

“Is that all?” Mingyu replies a beat too late, but it doesn’t matter all that much, but the words doesn’t soothe Wonwoo any more than the silence would and Wonwoo only hums in response. Mingyu swallows thickly, “Is there something wrong?”

Wonwoo searches for words at the corner of the room and starts to understand this needed silence that comes and goes between them. It’s heavy, not uncomfortable but definitely unsetting. They both have their minds set on something, not so sure about what the other’s thinking, what the other wants and, to Wonwoo, it’s a little scary.

“Not really-” Wonwoo starts

“So,”Mingyu indulces, “there is something wrong”

“I said not really, ” Wonwoo corrects and the sound of his attempted smile reaches Mingyu.

Mingyu holds back his tongue, not too prone into saying anything that would overstep his boundaries. But, the words fell from Wonwoo’s lips before he could put any more thoughts into it.

“I thought I loved him, now I’m not sure,” Wonwoo immediately regrets saying it out loud, but it’s not like he can take it back, so he tries selecting his words better next “It’s always like this. I- don’t know why I always chose the wrong guys”

“I’m not that great either, you know?” Mingyu says, looking at Wonwoo and shifting a little to lay on his side. Wonwoo finally looks up at him then and Mingyu moves his arm to pull him up and closer, this time. “ Hyung?” Mingyu tries and Wonwoo laughs at him,, “Sounds weird”

“Not to me,” Wonwoo retorts and Mingyu smiles in return, his eyes falling on Wonwoo’s lips.

“I never had this ,” Mingyu confesses, “You’ll have to teach me- hyung ”

It’s Wonwoo who kisses him first and a breathy moan escapes Mingyu’s lips at how sweet and soft Wonwoo kisses him. There’s no hurry, not passion or need ; Mingyu’s certainly not used to this, but he wants more of it. He wants more of holding Wonwoo’s hand and pressing him by his side. He wants more of the way Wonwoo’s fingers play with his hair and cups his jaw. Mingyu he ever expected that night at the club would end up like this, Wonwoo didn’t seem to be interested either, but if the night started with fireworks lighting up the light, then morning end up in Wonwoo’s apartment end up holding someone’s hand at the end of the day, but Wonwoo somehow made that happen and Jeonghan’s words certainly is part of it. Thankfully.

#kwordsmiths #kwritersworldnet #ultkpop #thesvttown #mine #meanie #meanie couple #wonwoo #mingyu #wonu #wonwoo x mingyu #seventeen mxm #svt mxm #mxm #mingyu x wonwoo #angst #fluff

[redeyedryu]

Cross Dimensional Problems

Chapter 7 - Dreaming | [Ao3] | 1 | « | x |  » |

Whoops. Fell a bit behind on updating here.

Very important warnings for this chapter! I wound up bumping up the rating of this story with this chapter over on Ao3, so just a heads up that this has shifted to an Explicit fic. I also tacked on the non-con warning. There’s nothing explicit in this chapter, but it does involve non-consensual touching, biting, fear play, tentacles, and negative ideations. Bear in mind these warnings and the upped rating for future chapters and please, proceed with caution.

Summary: ...are you really, though?

You rouse at some indeterminate hour, chest tight and aching, a vague recollection of less than pleasant dreams floating along the periphery of your sleep-heavy mind. A cursory glance around the room clues you in to the late hour. It’s pitch black, no light peeking from beneath the heavy curtains nor from under the door. There is no clock or digital device in the room to signify time and without your phone, you have no sure way of determining what time it is beside it being late o’ clock. Or early, you suppose.

You frown and bring a hand to rub at the space above and between your chest. The tightness is starting to radiate into your throat, your stomach now churning as well. A sure tell of your anxiety fighting to the surface.

That frown deepens into a scowl. You don't need this right now; you don't want to deal with this right now. And yet… it's like everything from the past forty-eight hours and then some has decided now is the perfect time to slap you like a cinder block to the face.

Good lord, you feel so damn sad. It isn’t even your pre-period angst time or anything. What the fuck.

You roll over with a growl, brows furrowed about as furrowy as they can get. You catch yourself clenching your jaw and have to consciously release the tension. Huh. Looks like you’re doing the same thing with your shoulders, too.

“Augh!!” you grumble, flopping onto your back instead. If you slammed your fists on the plush of your sheets and foamy bed top… well, who can blame you? You’re tired, your anxiety is trying to bubble up to the surface, you’re unreasonably sad and just so a n g r y that you’re feeling like this.

You glare at the ceiling of your borrowed pitch-black room. Somewhere in the distance you can hear the rumbling of someone’s obnoxious snoring. You want them to shut the fuck up.

You close your eyes.

Take a slow, deep breath.

Hold it.

Keep holding it.

Exhale s l o w l y.

You take a moment to try and center yourself and think: why are you feeling like this? You can be temperamental, sure, but this? ...this is a bit extreme. It’s… abnormal.

You let loose a rather choice, rather loud expletive as you shoot up into a slouching sit.

Of course.

This isn’t you. Not exactly.

“It’s you, isn’t it, you asshole! Show your happy ass so I can kick it!!”

Hm. Maybe… maybe you shouldn’t have done that because you’re suddenly feeling a very uncomfortable, oppressive sensation, almost as if you’re drowning—suffocating, even. There’s a heavy, constrictive tightness in your chest, like a weight has been placed upon it. Those unwanted feelings you’ve been trying so damn hard to hide away are crashing back into you and damn if they don’t feel ten times worse.

You slouch forward, head nearly resting on your knees, hands gripping at the flesh of your upper arms, nails biting into skin as you struggle to ground yourself.

A chuckle permeates the dark, heavy air around you before it speaks.

“aren't you an interesting little morsel?” His voice has a strange, echoey warble to it, though it is just as deep and gravelly as any of the Fell Sans variants. A shiver racks down your spine and your blood runs cold. Part of you didn't think he was actually here and another part yet didn't think he would show himself.

Shit.

So much for having learned anything.

You shift your head to get a proper glance of the monster now standing at your bedside. From your position doubled over yourself you can only see about midway up his chest but it's more than enough to confirm just who it is you're dealing with. The dripping, tar-like goop, the negativity seemingly radiating off of him… Your blood turns to absolute ice.

Nightmare stands before you.

Not only do you have to deal with Ink and Error, but this joker is here, too? Hell, did the universe put a hit out on you or something? because this is getting ridiculous.

“oh yes, do keep that up, human,” he practically purrs, “you sure know how to treat a guy, don’t you?”

You wince as a fresh wave of negativity surges through you—all your self-doubt, your loathing, and hate. Trying to force it down, you bite at your lip and dig your nails deeper into the flesh of your upper arms. 

“What… what’re you… doing here?” It’s a struggle to get the words out but you manage through sheer force of will (and no small amount of spite).

He chuckles and you watch through squinted eyes as his torso shifts with a motion your limited view misses out on.

“heh. your bravado’s cute, kid, but i wouldn't force myself if i were you.” He leans down, the sudden exposure to his face, to that cyan glowing eye of his, has you reeling. You jolt from your doubled-over position and fall to your side, quickly scrambling further along the bed, trying to put as much distance between the two of you as possible. You curse when your back hits the wall, having forgotten the bed was positioned in a corner.

“like i said, treat: you're  interesting. there aren’t many people who know of me in this frustratingly small universe, even less that are aware of what i can do… but you?” He chuckles and you flinch as he sits himself on the edge of the bed, a palm and his tentacles resting on the sheets. He leans towards you, causing you to clutch the blankets tight to your chest.

“the game changes when your prey knows it's being hunted.”

You’re at a loss for words, mind an absolute blank, and the goopy monster’s Cheshire smile stretches. He’s probably getting off on this, on your fear and negativity, and that rekindles the fire that had been burning when you first picked up on what was going on. Oh hell no, you're not going to take this—not from him, not from anyone!

Your spine straightens and you all but growl at him, “You don't scare me!” You fist the blankets in your grasp and boldly declare that, “I won't fall for your stupid mind games!”

Much to your frustration the asshole just continues to smile at you.

“that so?” he asks as he tilts his skull back and leers down at you. His gaze is challenging with a hint of a smug dismissiveness. You hold his stare for a moment, body tense and on edge, just waiting for him to do something. So engrossed in your staring contest, you jolt when he lets loose an abrupt laugh.

In the blink of an eye something dark and viscous shoots across the bed and tightly wraps around your ankle. You can only manage a yelp as you’re yanked across the bed, back falling against the mattress and hair haloing around you. Dread coils in your belly as you register that you are now pinned beneath Nightmare, his arms on either side of your head and the tentacle wrapped around your ankle s l o w l y slithering its way higher and higher up your leg, its embrace constricting.

Nightmare’s grin turns absolutely nasty as he proceeds to wrap each of your remaining limbs with a tentacle, the appendages roaming all over your trapped figure. He’s near drunk off your panic, the hopelessness and fear just pouring from you in waves. It has been far too long since he’s held this level of power and control over someone and damned if he lets a morsel like you slip from his grasp. He just needs to educate you a little, put you in your place.

You do your best to fight back the tears welling in your eyes, jaws clenched tight, and try to pull at your trapped limbs, grunting and growling with the effort (those aren't whimpers, they're not), though you ultimately succeed in merely straining your muscles. You’re left panting from the futile effort.

He’s so much stronger than you… 

A shudder races through your spine as Nightmare leans down to speak into your ear. You can hear the smile, the unbridled glee in his voice as he speaks, “thought you said i don’t scare you, treat.” He shifts and tilts his skull into the flesh of your neck, rubbing his skull against it in a mockery of a nuzzle. It’s an odd sensation—the feeling of bone and something wet and wrong trailing along your skin. “you can’t lie to me,” he continues, jaws parting. You feel his warm breath ghost along your neck and your flesh prickles with goosebumps as something laves against you, trailing down to the juncture between neck and shoulder, leaving a tingling, chilling sensation in its wake.

You’re hyper aware of just how far that first tentacle has traveled as it gently massages the meat of your inner thigh. You bite your lip as tears begin to fall. You hate this, you hate him—you hate that you're powerless and trapped in this stupid situation and that you can do little more than struggle in vain.

“just you wait,” his husky voice whispers, “i’ll show you real soon just how pointless it is to fight against me.” And then he b i t e s into the muscle of your shoulder.

You wake up in a gasping panic, greedily inhaling as much oxygen as you can, eyes wet and wild. You pull yourself into a sit and cast your gaze around you. You're in your borrowed room and there’s soft blue light spilling from the edges of the curtains. There is no skeleton covered in a vile, viscous tar hovering over you, no tentacles holding you down.

You make a conscious effort to slow your breathing and close your eyes. Just a dream, you tell yourself, it was just a dream.

You lift a hand to ghost along the phantom pain radiating from your shoulder. You don't feel any swollen skin, no tenderness to the touch—your mind is just playing tricks on you.

“It was just a dream,” you repeat aloud. “Just a dream…”

You think… you think maybe you’ll grab a drink from the kitchen, maybe a quick snack, to distract your mind, to help ease the dream to nothing more than a vague, faded recollection. 

You pull the sheets to the side and slide your legs towards the edge. Just as you're about to slide to the floor something catches your gaze. Through the hazy darkness of the room partially illuminated by the mid-morning light, you notice it: a blooming, purple bruise ringing your ankle. The aching, radiating pain comes next.

—–—–—–

“you don't look so hot,” a voice rumbles from behind you. You shift your gaze to its owner and note that it’s Rus, the Swapfell Papyrus. He’s got a brow ridge quirked as he looks down at you, crumpled across the couch. You’ve been occupying this particular piece of furniture since the crack of dawn.

“Yeah, well neither do you,” you grouse back.

He chuckles and shrugs as he makes his way across the room. “didn't sleep well?”

You groan miserably, clutch a throw pillow and smash it against your face. “No… Nightmare,” you mumble through the fabric.

With a rustling of fabric and displaced air, Rus drops himself into the nearby love seat. “a nightmare? that sucks but guess it ain't surprising.”

You grumble and shake your head, face still mashed into the cushion. “No,” you protest, raising a leg (the one without the ugly, aching bruise) to drop it heavily on the couch. “Nightmare.”

He’s silent for a moment. Long enough that it has you wondering if he’s even still here, so you twist your head and peek from the side of the pillow. Maybe he hadn't heard you, what with you speaking into the pillow?

…

Nope, he’s still here. He’s just… staring at you. Frowning.

Another awkward moment of silence passes before he speaks, “s’what i said: a nightmare.”

You push yourself up onto your elbows and give the skeleton a look. “No,” you protest, “not a nightmare. Nightmare, with a capital ‘n’. You know, the goopy guy with the tentacles?” To emphasize your point, you pull an arm to your back and waggle it around in your best (worst) imitation of a tentacle.

Now it’s Rus’s turn to give you a look. It's indescribable.

“You uh… you do know about him, right?”

It's silent for a moment more before Rus lets out a thoughtful hum and slides into a comfortable slouch. He fishes around for something in his signature jacket as he says, “damn, sucks to be you. what’d you do to piss him off?”

You sputter, raising yourself to your palms in an indignant huff. “Me? Why is it my fault? I hadn't even met the guy, I only just got here!”

Much to your frustration, the bastard just shrugs. He pulls what can only be a dog treat from his pocket and props it in his maw. “yeah, well, ya did somethin’ t’catch his attention. haven't seen the guy in years-” You balk at that—he’s-they’ve been here for years? “-’n makin’ an appearance now all’a sudden?” He pulls a zippo from somewhere, flicks it back, and lights up the edge of the biscuit. It catches and a deep purple smoke begins to rise before he flicks the lighter closed, shoving it back wherever he pulled it from. Rus tilts his skull towards you, takes a heavy drag of the treat before pulling it from between his jaws, and tells you, “i’d say it was nice knownin’ you, but ‘m not one for lyin’.” He replaces the dog treat between his teeth and then settles further into the couch, skull now turned away from you as a purple haze settles around him.

That… that actually kind of hurt. A lot more than you thought it would. You rub at your chest and try to ignore the uncomfortable prickle that surfaces at his words. Why would he care if Nightmare is targeting you? You’re not friends, and just like how you don't know them, they don't know you, either; there’s no attachment between you, you're not endeared to any of them, no matter how much they meant to you in your old world.

You don't mean anything to anyone. Not here, anyway.

You don't say anything as you pull yourself into a sit, don't so much as look in the skeleton’s direction as you lift yourself from the couch. You place the throw pillow you had been assaulting back along the arm of the couch and silently make your way out of the room. Maybe it’s better if you just… make yourself scarce.

As you pass through the hallway leading to your room, you walk by Ink. The way he’s lingering against the wall, a hand slightly raised towards you, you figure he was more than likely eavesdropping. Dodging his reach and ignoring the apologetic expression he gives you, you make your way to your borrowed room.

A nap sounds great right about now.

#Red Drabbles #Undertale Fanfiction #Reader Insert #Cross Dimensional Problems #Reverse Harem #Nightmare is an asshole #So is Rus #Actually everyone's terrible

[elcrivain]

It’s time. You have to pick up that dreaded classic you have lying around. Maybe it’s Victor Hugo’s Les Miserables, or even worse, William Shakespeare’s Richard III. Those things look terrifying with all that fancy bindings and annotations. But you have to read it anyway, either because some lame English professor assigned it or because you want to be well-read. Either way, you know it’s going to be hard.

Why do we struggle so? Why do such books make even the most avid of readers tremble in their boots? What is the problem with these damned things?

It’s all about the context. Or, rather, about how most modern readers lack the context to understand and appreciate classics. The boring dictionary definition of context is: The circumstance or setting in which an idea or even can be fully understood. If you don’t have context, an idea — such as the ones in classics — are liable to be misunderstood or outright overlooked. We, in all of our modernity, lack context for many classics in several respects.

The Context of Prose and Style

Language evolves. Sentence structure shifts. Words fall in and out of fashion. Even word meanings metamorphose.

It takes only a quick survey of English literature to see how much can change in a few hundred years (and we’re not even getting into translations):

A wys wyf, if that she can hir good,

Shal beren him on hond the cow is wood,

And take witnesse of hir owene mayde

Of hir assent; but herkneth how I sayde.

— Geoffrey Chaucer, “The Wife of Bath” in The Canterbury Tales (1475)

This isn’t the work of a drunken five-year-old with atrocious spelling skills. It’s Middle English, a variant of English spoken after the Norman Conquest in 1066 and before the 16th century. It bears some resemblance to modern English, but it’s gosh-darn hard to read without annotations (and alcohol).

To be, or not to be: that is the question:

Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer

The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune

Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,

And by opposing end them? — To die, — to sleep.

— William Shakespeare, Hamlet (1603)

Now that we’re in Modern English — yes, Shakespeare is modern — the spelling is improving, but it’s still tough to get through. Shakespeare’s heavy use of figurative language flummoxes us, literal-minded modern readers. No, those slings and arrows aren’t real!

The ledge, where I placed my candle, had a few mildewed books piled up in one corner; and it was covered with writing scratched on the paint. This writing, however, was nothing but a name repeated in all kinds of characters, large and small — Catherine Earnshaw, here and there varied to Catherine Heathcliff, and then again to Catherine Linton. In vapid listlessness I leant my head against the window, and continued spelling over Catherine Earnshaw — Heathcliff — Linton, till my eyes closed; but they had not rested five minutes when a glare of white letters started from the dark, as vivid as spectres — the air swarmed with Catherines; and rousing myself to dispel the obtrusive name, I discovered my candle wick reclining on one of the antique volumes, and perfuming the place with an odour of roasted calf-skin.

— Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights (1847)

Compared to Shakespeare, Brontë seems straightforward, except for one thing. Like many other 19th century writers, she uses long, flowing, and descriptive sentence structure that seems incongruous compared to today’s staccato sentence structure.

Who controls the past controls the future. Who controls the present controls the past.

— George Orwell, Nineteen-Eighty-Four (1949)

Now that we’re in the really modern part of Modern English, things are so much better. Orwell adopts the simpler, more direct style that we’re more used to. Whew! (Note that simple and straightforward prose doesn’t always translate into simple and straightforward meaning.)

Not all troublesome prose comes from old and dead white folks. Some contemporary authors eschew plainness for some flair in their prose. Whether you find that dazzling or confounding is up to you.

…I give you the mausoleum of all hope and desire… I give it to you not that you may remember time, but that you might forget it now and then for a moment and not spend all of your breath trying to conquer it. Because no battle is ever won he said. They are not even fought. The field only reveals to man his own folly and despair, and victory is an illusion of philosophers and fools.

— William Faulkner, The Sound and Fury (1929)

Faulkner’s convoluted prose forces the reader to focus single-mindedly to follow along. Confusing as it may be, Faulkner’s marriage of the stream-of-consciousness writing of modernists and descriptiveness of Romanticism give a certain élan to his writing. Just don’t read him before bed as you’ll fall asleep without any memory of what you’ve read.

Now a member of the company seated there seemed to weigh the judge’s words and some turned to look at the black. He stood an uneasy honoree and at length he stepped back from the firelight and the juggler rose and made a motion with the cards, sweeping them in a fan before him and then proceeding along the perimeter past the boots of the men with the cards outheld as if they would find their own subject.

— Cormac McCarthy, Blood Meridian (1985)

McCarthy’s combination of complex sentences and a disdain of punctuation gives his writing an air of inscrutability. Love or hate him, you have to admit that the dude got a style.

The Context of Historical Settings and Culture

Most authors write for their contemporaries, not for some unknown high school student 100 years in the future. They assume that their reader knows the social and cultural contexts. Once a book survives the test of time, this assumption fails.

Jane Austen’s books serve as a good example of how our ignorance of the social mores of early 19th century genteel society can lead the reader to miss allusions that would’ve been obvious to a contemporaneous reader.

“Are any of your younger sisters out, Miss Bennet?”

“Yes, ma’am, all.”

“All! What, all five out at once? Very odd! And you only the second. The younger ones out before the elder ones are married! Your younger sisters must be very young?”

“Yes, my youngest is not sixteen. Perhaps she is full young to be much in company. But really, ma’am, I think it would be very hard upon younger sisters, that they should not have their share of society and amusement, because the elder may not have the means or inclination to marry early. The last-born has as good a right to the pleasures of youth at the first. And to be kept back on such a motive! I think it would not be very likely to promote sisterly affection or delicacy of mind.”

“Upon my word,” said her ladyship, “you give your opinion very decidedly for so young a person. Pray, what is your age?”

“With three younger sisters grown up,” replied Elizabeth, smiling, “your ladyship can hardly expect me to own it.”

Lady Catherine seemed quite astonished at not receiving a direct answer; and Elizabeth suspected herself to be the first creature who had ever dared to trifle with so much dignified impertinence.

“You cannot be more than twenty, I am sure, therefore you need not conceal your age.”

“I am not one-and-twenty.”

— Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice

A reader unaware of the importance (and meaning) of “being out in society” in Georgian gentry wouldn’t note how uncouth it was to have five sisters out all at once, a serious social misstep by the Bennets. (And no, “coming out” doesn’t mean the same thing as it does today.) They would also have missed how tactless it was for Lady Catherine to harp on this point and Elizabeth’s impertinence for evading Lady Catherine’s question. This is why an unschooled reader would overlook the biting satire in Austen’s novels, which is a horrible shame.

Many classic novels attack contemporaneous cultural, religious, and social conventions. If you don’t understand the norms under attack, you lose context to why the novel was so daring, so bold.

I made this mistake with Jane Eyre. Upon my first reading at 13, I dismissed it as melodramatic slop. When I revisited it at 18, I saw how Charlotte Brontë criticizes the prevailing religious belief of charity and how remarkably independent Jane Eyre is, a shocking thing for a Victorian woman. I, however, still think that the book has too many dei ex machina (overly convenient plot twists).

The Context of Narrative Conventions

Following or breaking it, many classics take a stance on narrative conventions. Thomas Hardy embraces the pastoral and tragic narratives in Tess of d’Urbervilles as James Joyce bucks the Realists’ more removed narratives with his stream-of-consciousness writing.

To understand a book’s attitude toward narrative conventions is to understand why certain writing, plot, or characters elements exist (or disappear) from a novel. These expectations ease the way for your reading. Really!

When I began reading Tess of the d’Urbervilles, I knew that it was a pastoral tragedy, which prepared me for two important things. First, since it was a pastoral, I knew Hardy would describe the setting to such detail that the town(s) would become characters in their own rights. So I was prepared for passages like these which would seem unnecessary and boring to the average modern reader (fairly enough):

The village of Marlott lay amid the north-eastern undulations of the beautiful Vale of Blakemore or Blackmoor aforesaid, an engirdled and secluded region, for the most part, untrodden as yet by tourist or landscape painter, though within a four hours’ journey from London.

It is a vale whose acquaintance is best made by viewing it from the summits of the hills that surround it — except perhaps during the droughts of summer. An unguided ramble into its recesses in bad weather is apt to engender dissatisfaction with its narrow, tortuous, and miry ways.

— Thomas Hardy, Tess of the d’Urbervilles

Second, since Tess is a tragedy, I prepared myself for many frowny-face moments. If you go into a Hardy expecting a happy ending a la Pride and Prejudice, you’ve taken a wrong turn in the 19th-century bookstore.

The Context of Symbolism

When you’re a high school student studying The Great Gatsby, it might seem like the teacher is inventing all those meanings from rivers and currents to justify their paycheck. You think, “Damn it, why can’t a boat just be a boat?”

English teachers’ flights of fancy aside, symbolism is a real thing. Under the best of circumstances, symbolism deepens existing themes and ideas already present in the novel. Problems begin when you don’t recognize the signs of symbolism.

Here’s an example: The last lines heard ‘round the world:

Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that’s no matter — to-morrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther…. And one fine morning-

So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.

— F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby

Scholars have quarreled over the meaning of this passage for decades, showing that there is no purely correct answer. Therein lies the subjectivity of literary analysis — but it remains vital that you understand the purpose of symbolism and are able to recognize it. (Hint: watch for recurrent motifs and ideas.)

The Context of the Original Publication (or Performance)

This oft-overlooked context can massively alter your reading of a classic. Many classics weren’t originally presented in the format in which it is read today. Chaucer’s The Canterbury Tales was performed in verse. Shakespearean plays were meant for the stage, not small English classrooms. And so it goes.

But those are well-known examples. The examples nobody talks about are these 19th-century epics, most of which were originally published in a serialized format where the author was paid by the word (Anna Karenina, A Tale of Two Cities, The Count of Monte Cristo). This small detail completely alters the structure and flow of those stories. The serialized format and the pay scheme encouraged such writers to write more, more, and more. This is why Anna Karenina clocks in at almost 1,000 pages filled with descriptive passages of Levin moving grass. The format also means that the author didn’t consider the “flow” of narration from chapter to chapter, creating a disjointed reading experience as the story hops from one perspective to another. These stories were never conceptualized as a novel in today’s sense. You might even benefit from reading in small bursts, just like these newspaper readers did more than 100 years ago.

If you happen to read a classic out of its original publishing context, be mindful of how that’ll affect your experience. To get the fullest and richest experience, you might want to revert back to the original storytelling form, such as watching a Shakespearean play or movie. (I recommend Much Ado About Nothing, just ignore Keanu Reeves.)

Context is everything. Without the right context, many classics appear inscrutable and downright mystifying. Most of us aren’t born with a knowledge of Middle English syntax and deep knowledge of manners among the English gentry during the Georgian era.

Where does that leave us, the befuddled readers? It leaves us with the hard reality that we need to investigate the context in which the classic was written. That means glancing at a Wikipedia page about the French Revolution before (and during) reading Les Miserables. It also means preparing yourself for a fantastical twirl through time in a South American village before you read One Hundred Years of Solitude. With some preparation, you can actually appreciate those dusty little classics.

N.B. I adopt the more expansive definition of classics as notable works of literature due to their excellence and significance, rather than the more traditional definition as pre-17th-century works of literature.

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