#is this like foreshadowing for the Let Light Be Light (the next fic)

[plasticflowersinahistorycemetery]

exhibitionism

part IV

Pairing: SugarDaddy!Ben x Fem!Reader

Summary: You're settling into something you don’t fully understand, but it feels too good to question—too intoxicating to resist. Ben’s world is bleeding into yours, shaping it, owning it. He gives, and you take, but you’re starting to realise that nothing he gives is without cost. Doesn't matter how much that drink was anyway.

Warnings: 18+!, Ben once again being his own warning, age gap, language, misogyny, drug consumption, smut (kissing, biting, marking, slapping, dirty talk, clitoral stimulation, overstim, forced orgasms, fingering, handjob, cunnilingus/oral, p in v, cum on face, throttling, rough sex, semi-public sex, somnophilia, sexsomnia, dub-con), mind games, manipulation, degradation, power imbalance, I may have missed some. (There's a bunch in this one, agh!)

Word Count: 6,697

A/N: Besties, when I tell you this took everything from me... I mean it wholeheartedly. Burnout has officially hit, and my brain feels like goddamn mush right now. I'm not even sure I proofread this properly smh. I'm not sure I'll get time to fully write the next instalment tomorrow because I've got a super busy workday, tons of appointments, but I will probably get partway started on it. Lil appearance from more of The Boys in this one, only brief mentions, but I like integrating them into this AU. Like a lil easter egg, teheh. <3 And the foreshadowing from Butcher at the end was the part I got most excited about, honestly. Cryptic motherfucker, always. The fic ain't called "exhibitionism" for nothing. 👀 You know the drill: if all the warnings listed above aren't evident yet, they will be. And please let me know what y'alls thoughts are. I am so grateful to each and every one of you for reading the utter sewage my brain creates. Signing off, until the next one. All the love.

Without further ado: EXHIBITIONISM

Power is not taken. It is given.

A glance across the bar. A drink set down without a word. A hand at the small of your back, guiding you somewhere you don’t belong.

It starts small—a single indulgence, a breathless yes.

Then, suddenly, you are on display. Draped over his lap, diamonds at your throat, whiskey on your lips. A possession. A prize. A thing to be seen.

Because men like him do not love. They own.

Morning crept in slow and golden, stretching lazy fingers of light through the blinds, spilling across the tangled sheets and the expanse of your bare skin.

The air smelled like him—cologne and sweat and sin—clinging to your body, to the silk of his pillows, sinking deep into your bones. You stirred, muscles aching in ways that made your stomach clench with something warm and satisfied, stretching like a cat before finally rolling out of bed.

The penthouse was quiet, except for the distant hum of the city far below. Your steps were soft against the cool marble as you padded into the kitchen, rubbing the last remnants of sleep from your eyes. That’s when you saw it—

A small note on the counter, scrawled in what you assumed was Butcher’s blunt handwriting, sitting beside a Plan B.

Ben’s smirk was already curling at the corner of his mouth when you turned to find him leaning against the counter, watching you with that lazy, knowing amusement. He pushed off with an easy roll of his shoulders, stepping into your space, patting your ass before grabbing a glass from the cupboard.

“Go on then,” he murmured, filling the glass with water and pressing it into your hands. “Take it.”

You scowled at him, but you swallowed the pill anyway, washing it down under his watchful gaze. He looked too damn pleased with himself, grinning as he pressed a slow kiss to your temple before ushering you towards the shower.

The water was steaming by the time you both stepped in, the morning unfurling in quiet touches, hands gliding over slick skin, fingers threading through hair, the press of lips at the nape of your neck. It was unhurried, indulgent, all the urgency of the night before tempered into something softer, something that felt dangerously close to domestic.

By the time you were dressed, Ben had already decided breakfast was happening at some ridiculous rooftop restaurant, the kind that overlooked the city, all glass and steel and expensive finishes. He ordered coffee and something hearty, sipping slow while you picked at fruit and yogurt, the conversation easy, teasing, laced with the occasional knowing glance that had heat curling in your stomach.

After breakfast, you met up with Butcher, who wasted no time pulling up photos of apartments closer to Ben’s building.

“This one,” Ben said, barely glancing at the others before nodding at the one with the small, covered balcony. The space was perfect—something about the idea of you sitting out in the rain, curled up with a book, had him making the decision in seconds.

Then it was back to his penthouse, back to tangled sheets and tangled limbs, the hours slipping by in a haze of heat and slick skin, moans swallowed by deep, open-mouthed kisses. He left you completely spent, fucked out and boneless, only pausing his grumbling long enough to drive you back to your apartment. The whole ride was a steady stream of muttered complaints about your neighbourhood, about how it was a goddamn miracle you hadn’t been mugged yet, about how he was getting you the fuck out of there.

“Class schedule.”

You blinked at him, still dazed, before rattling it off. He grunted, nodding. “I’ll send some people over when you get back tomorrow to start packin’ your shit.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he wasn’t done.

“You need any more textbooks?”

That did it. Your face softened, eyes going wide and warm, something fluttering in your chest that you couldn’t quite suppress.

Ben saw it. And he smirked. “Christ, look at you,” he drawled, laughing, shaking his head. “You didn’t make that face when I bought you a whole fuckin’ wardrobe, but mention some books and you’re about ready to cream yourself.”

You huffed, shoving at his chest, but he caught your wrist, yanking you in for one last kiss, deep and slow, like he was trying to swallow you whole.

The next morning, you fell into a rhythm. You sent him a picture of two outfits, and he picked the jeans and the blouse.

Monday was lectures, the familiar comfort of academia wrapping around you like a second skin. Literature, language, the hum of the NYU campus filling your lungs like fresh air. You read in a café, met up with Hughie from Language, and Frenchie and Kimiko from Lit for lunch, an easy camaraderie settling between you before you all went your separate ways.

When you got home, a team was already waiting, efficiently packing up your apartment, boxing up memories, folding your life into neat stacks ready to be moved.

Tuesday followed the same rhythm, though the day was punctuated with texts from Ben. Filthy. Teasing. Full of smug impatience.

Bet that professor of yours wouldn’t be able to finish his lecture if he knew what you let me do to you.

And—

You gotten yourself all wet thinking about me yet, baby?

By noon, he demanded nudes, and you had to send them from a bathroom stall between classes, biting your lip as you hit send, warmth flooding through you at the immediate, possessive response.

Wednesday, everything was packed and ready. Ben showed up in the morning to meet your landlord, wrapping up the lease without a second glance, barely disguising his disgust at the place. His presence filled the almost-empty apartment, making it seem even smaller, even less yours.

Thursday, you moved.

The new apartment was waiting, the transition seamless, orchestrated by Ben’s efficient, silent influence. And standing there, at the front door, you realised something—you weren’t just moving apartments. You were moving into something entirely new.

And that was fucking daunting.

You hesitated in the doorway, heart thudding against your ribs, fingers curling into your palms. The apartment was perfect—too perfect. Light poured in through the massive windows, catching on soft pastels and warm wood, the carefully curated balance of elegance and comfort. It felt like you in a way that your old apartment never had.

And that was the part that terrified you.

Your breath came slow and uneven as you stepped inside, eyes scanning over the furniture, your furniture—only better.

Your little cream love seat and vintage armchair were there, the pastel pillows and soft throws draped just as you liked them—but there was a new sofa too. Big. Plush.

But the new dining table caught your attention—matching chairs, sleek but cozy, nothing like the old mismatched ones you’d made do with.

And then there was the bookshelf. Massive. Elegant. Full. Every book of yours finally had a home, instead of being stacked in chaotic, unstable towers on the floor.

“Jesus,” you breathed, barely above a whisper, stepping deeper inside.

Behind you, Ben leaned in the doorway, arms crossed, smug as all fuck, watching you take it in.

“Not bad, huh?”

You turned to glare at him, but it didn’t hold any heat. He knew what he’d done. Knew exactly how overwhelming this was for you. His lips curled, just barely, and he straightened, moving inside with slow, predatory steps, following your path through the space like a shadow.

The kitchen was next—a fucking upgrade. Marble counters, brass fixtures, farmhouse sink, all sleek and way too fucking nice for someone like you. Your fingers drifted along the counter’s cool surface, trying to ground yourself, but Ben’s heat was already at your back, pressing in close.

He exhaled against your ear. “Y’gonna stare at ‘em all day or let me fuck you against ‘em?”

You sucked in a sharp breath, shaking your head, moving away before you let yourself melt. The bathroom was next, and it sealed your fate.

A clawfoot tub. Deep, luxurious, like something out of a fucking dream.

Your stomach twisted. You turned to face him, voice uneven. “Ben, I—”

But he was already grinning, leaning against the doorframe like he was enjoying the hell out of this.

“Keep goin’, sweetheart,” he drawled, gesturing lazily. “Ain’t even seen the best part yet.”

Your jaw clenched, but your feet carried you forward anyway. The bedroom felt like stepping into a dreamscape. The silk bedding, pastel and delicate, the new wardrobe and dresser already stocked with your things. He’d kept your lightwood bed, but everything else was elevated, just enough to make it clear that this was different.

Your throat felt tight. Too much. Too fucking much.

The last thing left was the balcony.

And the second you stepped outside, you broke.

The hanging chair, the plants, the fairy lights, the small bistro table—all of it settled into you like a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding. The soft scent of flowers mixed with the distant city air, the quiet promise of solitude. The moment you took it in, really took it in, you whipped around and smashed your lips to his.

Ben caught you instantly, groaning into your mouth, gripping you like he’d been waiting for you to crack. Your fingers dug into his shirt, his arms cinched tight around your waist, his heat overwhelming every last thought in your head.

When you finally broke away, your breath was ragged. “I can’t—” You swallowed, chest heaving. “I can’t let you pay for this. How much even is this place?”

Ben just fucking laughed.

One hand gripped your jaw, tilting your face up so you had to look at him, so smug you wanted to slap him and fuck him at the same time.

“Doesn’t fuckin’ matter,” he murmured, kissing along your jaw, nipping at your neck. “Chump change, sweetheart.”

You gasped as his teeth scraped your pulse, your hands clutching at his biceps as he backed you into the railing, pressing you firmly against the cool metal.

“Now,” he continued, voice a low, dangerous purr, “Let’s go christen every fuckin’ room.”

You barely had time to breathe before he was hauling you inside, dragging you straight to the living room, lips crashing into yours, devouring you like he was starving. Your back hit the love seat, his hands everywhere, pulling at your clothes. Tugging. Gripping. Taking.

Then it was the kitchen. He shoved you up against the marble counters, hands groping under your thighs, lifting you effortlessly onto the cool stone. His mouth was hot and demanding, moving down your throat, his hands already slipping under your clothes, pushing them aside.

He kissed you in the bathroom, bent you over the sink, his breath ragged against your ear as he whispered, “Gonna wreck you against every fuckin’ surface in this place, doll.”

Then it was the bedroom, your back hitting silk sheets, his weight pressing you deep into the mattress, hips grinding down, lips bruising against yours, murmuring filthy things about ruining these nice new sheets with you.

By the time he dragged you back out to the balcony, sweat-slick and completely spent, your head was spinning. The apartment smelled like heat and sex and him.

Ben was grinning, tucking his face into your neck, voice still wrecked from hours of claiming you.

“There,” he murmured, pressing one last possessive kiss to your throat. “Now it smells like home.”

The night air was crisp against your sweat-slick skin, the city stretching out below in endless neon veins, blinking and alive, thrumming beneath your feet like a pulse.

The scent of him clung to you—smoke and sweat, sex and heat—woven into your very being. You stood on the balcony, caught in the quiet aftermath, his body flush against yours, heat radiating from every point of contact between you.

Ben exhaled hard, fingers flexing on your waist before he reached for his pack of cigarettes, sliding one between his teeth before offering you the pack. He didn’t say anything, just held it out like it was expected, like it was second nature to include you in his vices now.

You hesitated for a second, then plucked one free. He smirked around the cigarette between his lips, flicking his lighter open with one smooth movement. The flame caught in his eyes, sharp and knowing, and he let it burn just long enough to make you wait before lighting yours too.

The first drag filled your lungs, burning hot, the nicotine grounding you in the moment. You exhaled slow, watching the smoke curl into the night air before swallowing hard.

“This is… a lot.” Your voice came quieter than you meant it to. “I feel bad letting you pay for all this.”

Ben scoffed, shaking his head as he leaned back against the railing, one arm still looped around your waist, keeping you close.

“Already told you, sweetheart,” he muttered around his cigarette, voice rough and amused. “It’s chump change.”

You frowned, taking another slow drag before exhaling through your nose. “It’s just… it’s a bit daunting, you know?” You glanced up at him, then back out at the skyline. “I only met you six nights ago, and now I live in a whole new place.”

Ben said nothing, just watched you with that unreadable expression, eyes dark and steady, cigarette smouldering between his fingers.

You sighed, your free hand curling against his chest, absently tracing the fabric of his shirt. “I guess I’m just worried it won’t work out, and then I’ll be out on my ass with no safety net.” You huffed a humourless laugh, shaking your head.

“I don’t wanna have to crawl back to my parents and tell them they were right.” Your jaw tensed, voice sharpening. “Not that I fucking would.”

Ben cut you off before you could spiral further.

“You’re never gonna be out on your ass again.”

The way he said it—flat. Firm. Absolute—made something in your stomach twist.

You turned your head, brows drawing together. “Ben?”

He exhaled smoke, slow and steady, his free hand dragging over your hip, slipping beneath your shirt to spread wide against your bare skin. He wasn’t looking at you, not at first, just watching the city lights like he was making a decision in real-time. Then, finally, he turned his head, gaze locking onto yours with a certainty that sent a shiver down your spine.

“You haven’t even known me a week,” you murmured, searching his face. “How do you know you’re not gonna find some prettier, better girl and wanna turf me out?”

The look he gave you—sharp, incredulous, disgusted like you’d said something offensive—had your stomach flipping.

“There ain’t a fuckin’ prettier girl,” he said, making a face, like the very suggestion was absurd. “And there sure as fuck ain’t a better one.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

He shifted, cigarette dangling from his lips as his hand on your waist tightened, his voice dipping into something low, possessive, dangerous.

“You’re fuckin’ everything I’ve been lookin' for.” His fingers flexed, grip unrelenting, pulling you closer. “Smart, funny, fuckin’ gorgeous.” His lips curled around the words, dragging them out like he wanted to carve them into your skin.

“You fuck like a whore and take everythin' I give you—” His breath ghosted hot against your jaw as he leaned in. “—and still look up at me like you want more.”

Your pulse roared.

Ben smirked, watching the way your body reacted to his words, the way your thighs pressed together just slightly, how your fingers tightened around your cigarette.

He inhaled deeply, exhaled slow, smoke swirling around both of you before he nudged your chin up with two fingers, gaze dark and unreadable.

“Finish your smoke,” he murmured, voice dropping into something lower, lazier, filthy with certainty. “Look at the pretty lights. And stop that girly little brain of yours from worryin' too much.”

You let out a breath—half a laugh, half surrender, shaking your head.

“You’re a dick,” you muttered, but the words held no real bite.

He grinned, smug and knowing. “And you're a fuckin' pussy.”

You rolled your eyes, but leaned into him, letting your body mould against his, warmth seeping between you as the city sparkled below. The lights blinked in the distance, twinkling like something out of a dream, like something unreal, but his hand on your waist was solid, his breath against your temple real, grounding you in the moment.

You took another slow drag from your cigarette, exhaling against his throat, lips parting—

And fuck it.

You turned your head, caught his jaw, kissed him slow and deep, your hand curling into the collar of his shirt.

Ben groaned into your mouth, fingers digging into your waist, claiming, gripping, owning.

You let yourself melt into it, into him, into the feeling of standing there, high above the city, wrapped up in the most dangerous man you’d ever met.

And for the first time in a long time, you let yourself believe that maybe—just maybe—you’d landed exactly where you were supposed to be.

The night settled around you, thick and quiet, the kind of quiet that came with expensive insulation and the weight of being somewhere that finally felt safe. The apartment smelled like fresh sheets, lingering traces of sex, and the faint burn of nicotine from earlier. You were still reeling, still trying to make sense of it all—the space, the luxury, him—but Ben wasn’t giving you the time to overthink it.

You were curled up on the new couch, legs tucked beneath you, one of your pastel throws draped over your lap. Ben had his arm slung across the back of the sofa, casual, lazy, like he owned the place. Like he owned you.

And maybe he did. You just hadn’t figured it out yet.

His eyes tracked over you, slow, assessing, fingers idly rubbing at his knee. “What time you in class tomorrow?”

You blinked, pulling your thoughts back to the present. “Uh… first lecture’s at eight.”

Ben’s mouth curled, something smug and knowing glinting in his eyes. “Good. I’m stayin’ the night.”

You tilted your head at him, curious. “You are?”

“Yeah.” He stretched, then smirked, shrugging like it was already decided. “Don’t gotta be up ‘til five. Sleepin’ in, really.”

You exhaled a laugh, shaking your head. “That’s sleeping in?”

“For me, yeah.” He flicked his eyes back over to you, watching you shift in your seat, processing what it meant. That he was staying here. With you. Like this was his bed, his space, his routine to alter.

You pursed your lips, rolling the thought over in your head. “What do you do, exactly?”

Ben’s smirk twitched into something a little sharper, a little less amused. “Not important.”

It didn't really catch you off guard, he'd said the same thing when you'd asked before, but you were curious so you pressed. “It is important.”

That made him pause. His head tilted, eyes narrowing just slightly, like he was trying to decide if he should be irritated by that answer. “Oh yeah?”

You swallowed, curling your fingers into the blanket. “You said part of this… deal between us is that I look after you.” You shifted, looking at him pointedly. “That means I should know what you do. So I can help you unwind if you’re stressed. So you can talk to me about things.”

That made him laugh.

Low, throaty, dark amusement curling through his chest, rolling out like it tasted fucking sweet. His head tipped back against the couch, one hand dragging over his jaw as he exhaled.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, shaking his head before glancing back at you, all teeth and smirking condescension. “You really are a sweet little thing, huh?”

Your jaw tensed, but you waited.

Ben shifted, stretching out a little more, taking his time. Making you wait for it.

“S’nothin' exciting,” he finally said, dragging the words out slow, like they weren’t worth rushing over. “Just run the family business.”

You frowned. “What’s your family’s business?”

He huffed a short, amused breath, then looked at you, dead serious. “I own America’s fuckin’ backbone.”

You blinked. “Huh?”

That earned you a smug, lazy grin.

Ben leaned in, voice dipping into that classic-asshole-dirty-talk tone, the kind that made heat settle low in your stomach, even when you wanted to roll your eyes.

“Steel, baby,” he muttered, voice rich, thick with that heavy arrogance. “My company builds the cities you fuckin’ live in. Highways, bridges, skyscrapers—if it stands in this country, odds are, it’s got my fuckin’ name on it.”

You stared at him, lips parting slightly. “You… run a steel company?”

Ben just smirked, watching you.

“Own it.” He let the words hang for a second, savouring the weight of them before adding, “Some of the biggest manufacturers in the country? They bend over and kiss my fuckin’ boots for a contract.”

Your stomach flipped.

Of course. Of fucking course. The power, the arrogance, the complete refusal to accept no for an answer? It all made sense.

“So,” you started, voice light, playful. “You’re a glorified construction worker?”

Ben let out a short, sharp laugh, eyes flashing with something predatory as he leaned in, bringing his mouth right against your ear.

“You keep runnin’ that smart little mouth,” he murmured, breath hot against your skin, “and I’ll show you exactly how hard I work, doll.”

A full-body shudder rolled through you.

Ben grinned, sitting back, completely unbothered, watching your reaction like it delighted him.

Your lips twitched, shaking your head as you let out a breath, looking away before you did something stupid like climb into his lap and beg him to prove it.

This man was going to fucking ruin you.

The first yawn slipped out before you could catch it, your body betraying you in the warm lull of the evening. You tried to stifle it behind your hand, blinking sluggishly, but Ben saw. Of course, he saw.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just watched you with that lazy, predatory gaze, like he was waiting, tracking every little sign of fatigue settling in your limbs. Then, with no warning, he scooped you up like you weighed absolutely nothing, one strong arm locking under your thighs, the other bracing around your back.

A small yelp caught in your throat as your arms flew around his neck. “Ben—”

“C’mon,” he muttered, already striding toward the bedroom, completely unfazed. “Almost bedtime.”

You exhaled a laugh, already half-melting into him, the warmth of his body lulling you further into exhaustion. “You’re such a caveman.”

Ben huffed, the sound thick with amusement, but then his grip tightened slightly, and he dipped his head, voice dropping into that gravelly, smug rasp right against your ear.

“Yeah? Well, I need to get my beard wet first.”

Your breath hitched, heat flashing through your spine like a whip-crack.

Jesus fucking Christ.

You were sleepy, blushing, but that didn’t stop your thighs from pressing together, from your fingers clenching a little tighter in the fabric of his shirt. Because it didn’t matter how disgusting his mouth was—how filthy, how utterly depraved—you loved words. And he knew that.

The bastard smirked when he felt you squirm, his grip flexing possessively around your thigh, squeezing just enough to remind you who you belonged to.

You didn’t argue.

Didn’t protest when he dropped you onto the bed, didn’t say a word when he grabbed the waistband of your bottoms and peeled them off with zero ceremony, like they were a fucking obstacle. The heat in your face only deepened as he dragged you to the edge of the mattress, pulling your hips up so your ass was barely on the bed, your legs draped over his shoulders.

Then he sank to his knees.

And he got to work.

The first long, sloppy, groaning lap of his tongue had your back arching off the mattress. The second had your fingers clawing at the sheets, a sharp gasp escaping your lips. He was so fucking messy, open-mouthed and hungry, tongue and lips and teeth everywhere, greedy and filthy like he was eating the meal he’d been craving all damn day.

“Fuckin’ love this pussy,” he rasped against you, spit-slick and wrecked, his hands gripping your thighs so tight it ached. “So soft, so fuckin’ sweet—goddamn, baby, you’re just drippin’ for me.”

A shudder ripped through you, your body reacting before your mind could catch up. Your thighs twitched around his head, but he only growled, fingers digging in harder, keeping you wide open, keeping you at his mercy.

“Taste so fuckin’ good,” he groaned, tongue dipping deep, the sound almost desperate, like he was losing his mind over it. “Could bury my face in this tight little cunt forever.”

Your hands scrambled for purchase, clenching in the sheets, in his hair, anywhere, because the way he was devouring you—

It was too much.

The obscene, wet, sucking sounds of his mouth, the deep vibrations of his groans, the sheer heat of his breath against your slick skin—it had your brain short-circuiting, had your stomach tightening, the pleasure cresting too fast, too sharp.

“Ben,” you gasped, barely coherent. “I—I—”

His eyes flicked up, dangerous, knowing.

“Oh, I know,” he muttered, all smug condescension, his fingers pressing harder into your thighs. “I know what’s about to happen, baby.”

You didn’t, though.

Not until it started building, something different, something new, something that had you gasping, panicking, thighs trying to snap shut.

“B-Ben, wait—”

Slap.

His palm cracked against your inner thigh, just enough to sting, just enough to make you jolt, pleasure cutting through the panic sharp and hot.

“Shut up.” He growled it against you, voice rough with pure fucking authority, and your body obeyed before your mind did, immediately unraveling under him. “Let it happen.”

Your breath hitched, vision whiting out as something broke inside you.

And then—

It happened.

A choked sob tore from your throat as your body gave out, as pleasure ripped through you so violently your hips jolted against his face, liquid heat gushing out of you, soaking his mouth, his beard, the sheets beneath you.

Ben groaned like a man unhinged, his fingers tightening bruises into your skin, holding you still as he licked you through it, fucked you through it, savouring every fucking drop.

“Fuck yeah, baby,” he rasped, completely ruined, his voice breaking into something wild. “That’s it—fuckin’ drench me—Jesus Christ, you’re so fuckin’ hot.”

You were shaking, whimpering, still trying to come down, still trying to understand what just happened.

Ben laughed, breathless and smug, so fucking pleased with himself. His hands finally eased, smoothing over your trembling thighs, gripping them possessively, reverently.

“Didn’t know you could do that, huh?” He muttered, voice hoarse, utterly wrecked.

You whimpered, shaking your head, mortified, trying to cover your face—

He didn’t fucking let you.

His fingers wrapped around your wrists, pinning them to the bed, his mouth dragging wet, open kisses along your thighs, up your stomach, up your ribs, crawling up your body like he wasn’t done with you yet.

“You are so fuckin’ perfect,” he muttered, voice thick with filth and praise, his weight pressing you into the mattress. “Gonna make you do that every goddamn night, baby—fuckin’ soaking for me.”

You whimpered, still trembling, still floating, but he just grinned, so goddamn smug, his teeth skimming your jaw.

“Now, go to sleep,” he murmured, nipping at your ear. “You’ve got an early class tomorrow, sweetheart.”

Ben’s hands were steady, careful, as he helped you scoot back properly onto the bed, smoothing his palms over your trembling thighs, gripping where he could, soaking up the aftermath of what he’d just done to you. You barely had the energy to move, limbs heavy and useless, your breath still uneven, skin flushed and oversensitive.

He didn’t seem to mind. Loved it, actually.

Smirking, he sat back on his heels, watching as you climbed under the sheets, dragging them up around you, tucking yourself into the soft, pastel silk like you were burrowing into a cocoon of warmth and safety.

Then, with a huffed breath, Ben stood up and pulled his shirt over his head. A soaked mess.

“Christ on a cross,” he muttered, holding it up in the dim light. “Look at this shit.”

You immediately tried to hide, face burning as you turned toward the pillow, but he caught it—the small, mortified shift of your body, the way you curled inward like you could disappear. And he didn’t fucking like it.

“Hey,” he tutted, sharp and chiding, tossing the damp shirt over the back of your dressing table chair. “Don’t do that.”

You swallowed, exhaling against the sheets, still embarrassed but wrecked, still completely in his grip. He watched you for a second longer, then huffed, shaking his head before shoving his boxers down and climbing into bed beside you.

The mattress dipped, warmth swallowing you whole as he wrapped himself around you, pulling you flush against his chest, strong arms locking you in place like you were fucking going anywhere. His hold was tight, heavy, possessive in a way that made your stomach flutter, even in your exhausted state.

“Excited for tomorrow night,” he murmured against your temple, his voice a low, satisfied rumble. “Gonna pick you up from here when you’re back from class.”

You made a soft, content noise, already half-melting, pressing closer, sinking deeper into the warmth of him.

Then—

Ben shifted, brow furrowing as he felt something under him, something small and soft, and he reached down, pulling it free.

Eugene.

Your stuffed bear, held dangling by one arm in his grasp, Ben staring at it like it personally offended him.

He exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “Eugene, you gotta get the fuck outta here.”

You snorted, laughter bubbling up before you could help it, giddy and wrecked and so goddamn endeared that you physically ached.

Ben just looked at you, then at Eugene, then back at you, dangling the bear slightly, like he was silently asking well?

Still giggling, you took the bear from him, hugging it against your chest, but you also nuzzled further into Ben, burying yourself beneath his arm, tangling your legs with his.

Ben sighed, a deep, satisfied breath, before pressing a slow, lingering kiss to the top of your head.

“Night, baby.”

His voice was low, heavy with something you weren’t ready to pick apart yet, something deep and final and absolute.

You mumbled something sleepy back, warm and safe and tucked into him, and for the first time in a long, long time—

You fell asleep feeling like you belonged somewhere.

When you woke again, it was slow. The kind of thick, heavy sleep that left your limbs boneless, warm, unwilling to move. But the first thing you became aware of was him.

Ben was grumbling into your hair, voice rough with sleep, chest broad and solid at your back, his arm heavy where it draped over your waist. Every breath he took vibrated through you, low and gravelly, lazy but full of complaint.

“Don’t wanna fuckin’ get up,” he muttered, his lips grazing your bare shoulder, breath hot against your skin. His hips pressed forward, and that was when you felt it—

Hard. Thick. Heavy. Pressed up against your ass, all heat and weight, his body surrounding you completely.

“Should just stay here all day,” he continued, voice low, almost slurred, still caught between sleep and wakefulness. His fingers flexed against your stomach, gripping, pulling you tighter against him. “Bury my cock in you and keep it there ‘til I gotta fuckin’ leave.”

A whimper caught in your throat, your thighs pressing together as you twitched in his hold. His breath hitched—then, his grip locked down.

His hand clamped onto your hip, pinning you to the bed, holding you still.

“If you don’t stop wigglin’ like that,” he murmured, voice dangerous, threatening, slow, “I really am gonna stay here and fuck you.”

Heat rushed to your face, your breath shuddering against the pillow as your body went still in his hold.

Ben huffed out a long, suffering groan, like he was physically forcing himself to be good, dragging himself out of bed with a grumble.

You stirred, stretching, before blinking up at him sleepily and shoving the sheets back to climb out of bed yourself.

Ben turned to look at you, brows furrowing, fully perplexed. “The fuck are you doin’?”

You blinked at him. “Getting up.”

His scowl deepened. “No, you’re not. Go back to sleep.”

You tilted your head, watching as he ran a hand down his face, already irritated by the concept of morning.

“But... you need to eat before you go.”

Ben froze.

His hand paused on his jaw. Something dark and hot flickered in his gaze, his breath leaving him in a sharp exhale. Then, he grinned. Slow. Lazy. Dangerous.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he muttered, running his tongue along his bottom lip, shaking his head as his eyes dragged over you. “You really are a dream girl, huh?”

Heat licked up your spine, but you held your ground, arms crossing loosely over your chest. “Ben.”

He groaned—but the good kind. The kind that sounded wrecked, that made your thighs clench together.

“Y’know how fuckin’ hot that is?” He exhaled through his nose, stepping closer, gaze dark, possessive. “Sweet little thing, tellin’ me I gotta eat before I go.” His fingers brushed over your hip, teasing, almost reverent. “Fuck me, baby, I could take you up on that right now.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

He leaned in, lips brushing your jaw, voice dropping low and thick. “But for now, I need you back in bed.”

Before you could argue, he grabbed you, pushing you back down, the mattress dipping beneath your weight. His hand wrapped around your jaw, fingers pressing into your cheeks, pinning your face to look up at him as he climbed over you, his lips dragging slow and deliberate over yours.

He kissed you hard, sucking at your bottom lip, teeth scraping, his free hand gripping your throat, then your jaw, then your hip. Every touch was bruising, deliberate, a brand of possession that felt like it was sealing something deep into your bones.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, panting slightly, his thumb tracing your bottom lip, swollen from his teeth.

“Need you rested up for later,” he murmured, eyes flicking over your face, drinking you in. “We’re goin’ out.”

Your breath stuttered, heart thudding against your ribs.

Then—he pulled away. You whined, grabby-hands reaching for him, desperate and frustrated.

Ben laughed. Smug, mocking, pleased as fuck.

“Jesus Christ, look at you,” he grinned, shaking his head as he watched you desperately reaching for him. “Clingy little thing.”

Your face burned, but you didn’t stop, fingers snagging at his wrist, pulling him back down just enough to suck another kiss out of him.

Ben groaned, deep and approving, teeth scraping your lip before he finally broke away, thumb swiping along your jaw one last time.

“You’re cute when you get needy, y’know that?” He murmured, mocking, but still praising, still smug as fuck.

You huffed, pouting.

He smirked, straightening, already moving toward his clothes. “Go back to sleep, doll. I’ll be back for you soon.”

The sound of your phone alarm ripped you from sleep, shattering the lingering warmth of your dreams. You groaned, scowling as you fumbled to shut it off, blinking bleary-eyed at the soft glow of morning filtering through your window.

Then it hit you.

This wasn’t your old apartment.

You sat up slowly, heart skipping as you glanced around, reality settling in. New walls, new furniture, new life. The silk sheets pooled around your lap, and for a moment, it felt surreal—like you were still dreaming, like this wasn’t really yours.

It didn’t feel real. Didn’t feel earned. It felt borrowed, temporary, fraudulent.

You shook yourself out of it, exhaling slow before slipping out of bed, padding across the floor to your wardrobe. Focus. Get ready. Move.

You pulled out two outfits, snapping a photo of both before sending them to Ben. His response came fast.

That one. Good fuckin’ girl.

Your stomach flipped, heat creeping up your neck as you bit your lip, shaking your head before sending him another—this time, of you wearing it.

With that, you grabbed your bag and headed out.

The day passed in a blur.

Lectures, notes, the steady rhythm of campus life pulling you into its familiar current. By the time lunch rolled around, you were settling into the café with one of your friends—the same girl from last Friday, the one who had tried to get you to leave before Ben decided otherwise.

She barely let you sit down before she was grinning, eyes alight with curiosity.

“So,” she started, leaning in, “how was last weekend?”

You hesitated for a beat, then gave a small, knowing smile. “It was good.”

Her eyes widened, and she let out an excited noise, smacking your arm lightly. “Good?” She echoed. “Babe, he was fucking gorgeous.”

You laughed, shaking your head, sipping your drink. “Yeah, I know.”

“Are you seeing him again?”

You glanced up, watching her reaction carefully, then nodded. “Tonight.”

Another excited squeal, another wave of gushing, but it didn’t bother you. It was nice, in a way—to talk about him in this context, instead of just feeling him consume you whole.

By the time you finished lunch, she had pep-talked you into oblivion, and you headed back home, your steps a little lighter, a little more confident.

When you arrived, the car was already there. Butcher was waiting, leaning against the door, arms crossed.

You slowed, raising a brow, and he tilted his head in acknowledgment.

“Just gotta take my bags and stuff up,” you told him.

He waved a hand, gruff and dismissive, barely looking up. “Go on, love. I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

You smirked, shaking your head before heading inside, quickly changing into something better suited for the night ahead.

By the time you came back down, Butcher was already in the driver’s seat, waiting. You climbed into the car, settling into the back, watching the city blur past as he pulled away. The silence stretched just long enough before you finally spoke.

“How are you?”

Butcher snorted. “Like you give a fuck.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I do give a fuck.”

He glanced at you in the rearview, lips twitching in something almost amused. “Yeah, well. Ain’t dead yet, so I s’pose I’m alright.”

You huffed a laugh, fingers drumming absently against your thigh before you glanced at him again. “What exactly is your job?”

That earned you a raised brow.

“My job?” He echoed, tilting his head slightly.

You nodded, watching as he rolled the thought around in his head before giving a gruff, nonchalant shrug.

“Eh,” he muttered. “’M kinda like Ben’s assistant.”

Your brow furrowed. “Assistant?”

Butcher smirked, shaking his head. “Well, that’s the posh way of sayin’ it.”

You snorted, amused and intrigued, watching him as the car weaved through the city, each answer leading to more questions, each detail peeling back another layer.

You shifted in your seat, watching the cityscape blur past in a wash of headlights and neon. The weight of the day sat low in your limbs, the lingering haze of routine blending into something less familiar, less structured.

The car was silent except for the quiet hum of the engine and the occasional clink of Butcher’s rings against the steering wheel as he shifted his grip. His gaze stayed forward, focused, but you could feel his presence as easily as if he were staring straight at you.

You cleared your throat. “Hey—thank you.”

Butcher didn’t react right away, just quirked a brow, flicking his eyes toward the rearview mirror for a split second before looking back at the road. “For what?”

You shrugged, resting your temple against the window. “First of all, for picking me up from the apartment.”

He snorted, shaking his head like it was the bare fucking minimum.

“And,” you added after a pause, something clicking in your head, “for finding the apartment.”

At that, Butcher let out a low, amused exhale. His mouth pulled into something almost smug, but he didn’t say anything, just kept driving.

You huffed a small laugh, shaking your head. “Ben chose it, but you found it.”

“Yeah, well.” He shifted slightly in his seat, rolling his shoulders. “Gotta make sure you’ve got a roof over your head, don’t I?”

There was something unspoken in that. Something heavy, something you weren’t ready to unpack yet. You let it sit for a moment, your fingers drumming absently against your knee, before swallowing and speaking again.

“And… for the Plan B last weekend.”

That made Butcher snort. Loud. Like he genuinely found that funny.

You immediately regretted saying it. Heat flashed up your neck, and you turned toward the window, cursing yourself internally.

“Fuck me,” he muttered, shaking his head. “He said you were a shy one. You really are, ain't ya?”

You grumbled something under your breath, shifting in your seat. “I just—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Butcher cut in, still amused, still shaking his head. He let the moment breathe for a second before glancing at you again. “You’re gonna have to work on that, y’know.”

That caught you off guard.

Your brows furrowed, head tipping slightly. “On what?”

Butcher sighed like it was the most obvious thing in the world. He waved a hand, his rings catching in the dim light. “The whole bloody embarrassed about everythin' bit.”

Your frown deepened, stomach flipping in something that wasn’t quite discomfort, wasn’t quite intrigue. “Why?”

He let out a gruff, knowing chuckle, shaking his head. “If you plan on keepin’ Ben, love, you’re gonna be flaunted about. You’ll be fuckin' exhausted if you’re constantly blushin’ over every little thing.”

You stiffened slightly, fingers tightening on your knee. “What do you mean?”

Butcher didn’t answer right away. Instead, he just exhaled through his nose, something deeply amused and vaguely pitying flickering across his face before he waved another hand.

“Nothing,” he muttered, voice low, dismissive, but still loaded as fuck. “Just sayin’—best get used to eyes bein’ on you.”

Your stomach twisted. You didn’t quite know why. Didn’t quite know what he was really saying.

Not yet.

@mostlymarvelgirl @losers-clvb @lunaleah. @itshellfire @drakulana @sl33pylilbunny @suckitands33 @nevercameraready @kayleighwinchester @lyarr24 @imtheworst123 @podiumackles @spxideyver @tinas111 @ohgodimgoungtodie @cevansbaby-dove <3

[chxrrywines]

₊˚⊹♡ in a week | sam winchester x reader

based on the song in a week by hozier

a/n - i’ve been wanting to write this fic for SO long and i know it’s kinda short but i’m happy with how it turned out!! in a week is my favourite hozier song and honestly one of my favourite songs of all time and aaagh i just had to write something for it, i hope you like it!!

cws - fem!reader, 1.4k, character death, fatal injuries, blood, process of dying, hurt/comfort, mentions of heaven

other fics can be found on my masterlist

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ��

Sam knew as soon as he hit the floor that he wouldn’t be getting up again.

It was strange, how the cold of the air made his blood seem almost hot against his skin, staining his rapidly paling flesh with a deep red he’d seen far too many times it was a wonder it hadn’t become his favourite colour. His favourite colour was actually green, natural and calming, far from the monsters and grime of his day to day life, closer to the comfort of his brother’s eyes and his own whenever he looked in the mirror and knew that he was okay. The damp grass beneath him was green, and though he wasn’t okay, having her at his side somehow made it all alright.

There was blood on her too, not too dissimilar to his own injuries. They’d both been in the clutches of death far too many times for the feeling of the tiredness that had started to cling to their bones not to be similar, but it was the first time Sam had ever felt comfortable over the whole thing.

With her laid at his side, it felt almost peaceful.

“Come here, sweetheart,” his arm lifted to tuck around her and that was enough for him to wince at the movement through he just grit his teeth through it until her body was pressed up against his, slotted together amongst the damp grass and the flowers of the early spring nature. “That’s it, there we go.”

It had been a while since they’d both gotten to the floor. There had been a silent understanding in the fact that neither of them would return to their feet, that they would spend their final moments by each others side with the bugs and the dirt. Sam could list numerous times that he had been fearful of her life, had done everything he could to save her, because he simply couldn’t live without her, couldn’t let her die alone.

Bodies held against each other, blood mixed and soaked into the earth, they weren’t alone.

“Stars are out,” her voice trembled, far too breathy, but she still sounded so pretty. The same voice that whispered in his ear to wake him up and the last thing he heard before he fell asleep. Sam had always admired foreshadowing and the beauty behind it. “Look, it’s—” her breath stuttered on her next inhale and his hand easily found hers, cold skin pressed to cold skin, clinging with what little strength they both had, a silent comfort, encouragement. “—it’s Orion’s Belt.” She finished, and though Sam couldn’t quite make out the individual constellations through his blurred vision, he was happy to enlighten her regardless.

“It’s pretty,” he murmured, blinking up at the beads of light that blurred and warped in his vision, before his head tilted to look at her instead. Even as his vision broke down slightly, he could picture her features. The shape of her nose, her lips, the colour of her eyes, eyelashes that tickled her cheeks as she blinked or laughed or smiled at him. It was enough to bring a smile to his face and he leaned in to kiss her temple. “You’re so beautiful.”

Her breathing hitched, a wet catch in her chest, and he didn’t need to see the tears in her eyes to know that she’d started crying. Sam had known her for so long that she had become a part of him, her soul intertwined with his in golden string, so he knew all of her mannerisms and sounds. The tears weren’t for panic or pain, something closer along the lines of contempt, tears that settled with acceptance.

“I love you,” the words practically heaved out of her chest and her fingers trembled in his as she struggled to tighten her grip much. He had felt in real time as the strength in her body bled out along with the crimson that stained her clothed and skin. It would have been frightening if not for the way his own strength had left him, evaporating with every heavy exhale. “Sam, I—” another struggled breath, another significantly weakened squeeze to her hand. “—you’re my home.”

Sam didn’t realise that his fingers had started going numb until he lifted his free hand up to cup the side of her face, a cheek usually flushed with colour now just paled hidden beneath his palm as he held her. And despite the way his vision blurred, with tears that time, he smiled at her. It took a lot more effort than he liked though he leaned in and pressed his mouth to hers, lips soft and shaky breaths as he kissed her, pouring all of his affection and feelings into her mouth along with their last kiss. “I love you.”

When Sam laid back against the grass again, he knew he wouldn’t sit up again.

There was so much he could have said, so many words and kisses he could have given her in that moment, but as he glanced down at her once more, felt the heaving of her chest with each breath, it all felt unspoken. He was comfortable to lay at her side, he felt loved. Sam had often wondered over the years how he would finally be taken out, but in the arms of his lover in a field of grass under a pretty sky was better than anything he could have imagined. He couldn’t have pictured a calmer or more secure way than sealing his last breaths in the touch of his lover.

Their flesh was colder, paler, and if he had the energy in him he supposed he would have started shivering. The night was cold, a remainder of the biting winter freeze that was slowly being melted by the spring. Whenever the sun came up everything would warm, though Sam wasn’t sure if he’d see the next sunrise. His heartbeat was slowing, he knew hers was too.

“I’ll find you,” he promised softly, words more breath than voice, blinking through tears that felt hot on his cold cheeks as he struggled to squeeze her fingers. “If we don’t get there together I’ll find you, honey.”

A soft sniffle at his side. “You’d better, Winchester.”

Sam smiled, wet and shaking, tears fell when he couldn’t squeeze her hand anymore.

He supposed that it would take some time for them to be found, in a week or so. The field wasn’t really near anywhere populated. They’d be accustomed to the local wildlife and the bugs in the ground before their bodies were discovered, but there was a comfort in knowing she’d be at his side through it all.

Hours, they must have laid there in each others arms for, or years, Sam couldn’t really tell. Her hand was still tucked away in his by the time the sky started to glow orange and it made him smile softly, a final sunrise. They’d spent countless mornings on the road or on cases together, stole small moments away to appreciate the sight.

“Look, sweetheart,” he breathed, a struggle in itself to tilt his head towards hers. “Look at that.”

Only once he’d blinked through the film of tears the sight of her eyelids instead of her irises was unmistakable. Curled into his side, her hand tucked into his, she looked like she had done every morning at his side for the better part of his life. Only she was cold and pale, and her chest wasn’t moving anymore.

“Honey?”

She stayed still, a perfect imitation of beauty at his side, tucked amongst flowers and green grass, she looked so pretty.

The sound that left him was wet and shuddery, though somewhere in his mind he was thankful that she had left first, she could hold the door open for him.

With what little strength he had left Sam curled on his side, her body completely pressed up against his as his head dropped, forehead pressed to hers, hand still and discreet in hers. A deep breath left his lungs, and they didn’t expand again.

Their bodies were found in a week, at home with each other amongst the flowers.

[lvlyghost]

The Things I Never Said: Part 3

Pairings: Simon 'Ghost' Riley

Summary: You're required for one last mission.

Word Count: 2.5k

Tw: aaaaaangst, hurt with a lot of comfort. injuries, mentions of blood, kissing and slightly suggestive but nothing too explicit. price has to make a hard choice:(poor grammar, bad english ofc💅🏻 foreshadowing to my price fic 'salvation' if you squint.

A/N: i'm not gonna lie, when i wrote the first part of this fic i was bored and never in a million years did it cross my mind y'all would like it this much. sorry if this isn't as good, this is the final part of it, although i plan to write little drabbles every now and then. this was such a nice ride 🩷✨ thx for the support; remember english isn't my first language, corrections are welcome 🤍🐸

Masterlist✨ Part 2

Desk rotation wasn't fun, but it seemed to be the only suitable work for you considering your pregnancy, besides, it would allow Simon to keep an eye on you. At least he's sure you'd be safer in the military base than alone in your home.

Your only companion as you sit in the tech room is nothing more than a computer with two screens and Jimmy, the other tech guy who sits in the far corner across from you.

True to his word, Price had saved you and Simon a horrible martial court plus being discharged. Technically you're no longer a part of the 141 task force which is already upsetting to all of your team; instead working strictly under Price's command and assisting the different branches of the military. Meaning you're no longer subdued to Lieutenant Riley, therefore you're not his subordinate, at least not directly.

You respond to Price and only Price.

Nearing the end of your first trimester your swollen belly has started to show, the same you try to dissimulate by wearing bigger shirts than you would usually wear, but enough for Simon to notice when he'd place a big calloused hand on your stomach.

'It's... tiny.' He had stated, to which you laughed softly.

'Of course it is, your hand is massive!'

You shake your head, with a small smile on your lips as you remember that scene.

"Everything good?" You ask your companion.

"Mhm. You know you're the best for creating the security system right? Not a single breach or flaw. Couldn't ask for a better partner."

"Is that a chai?" Completely ignoring what he just said you point the white disposable cup next to him. He looks between you and his drink.

"Yeah? Didn't know you liked it, here... have it. I can get another." He assures you when you hesitate.

You thank him with glowing eyes and excitement. Cravings... you're embarrassed of the amount of food you've asked from Simon in the middle of the night. Sushi, pizza and even peaches just for the sake of the baby.

He's being the gentlest man on earth. Caring and supportive. Your phone buzzes as you're about to start to work. The screen lights up with a message from your Captain. Huffing you stand up, letting Jimmy know you'll be back in a few minutes, or so you thought.

You're not prepared for the hell unfolding inside John's office.

You're able to hear male voices from the other side of the hallway. You don't know why but your heart begins to race, knocking twice once you've reached the brown wooden door.

"Come in!" Price shouts from inside.

You open the door, greeted by John's hardened eyes and Simon's back as he hunches over the Captain's desk. Confused and much to your dismay there's a gigantic folder between the two men, your eyes fall on Ghost's trembling frame.

He is enraged.

Body buzzing in anger as the soft click of the door interrupts the silence that's fallen suddenly inside.

"You wanted to see me Sir?"

Price slowly stands, Simon doing the same, turning his head ever so slightly to watch you from over his shoulder.

"I need to talk to you, sweetheart." Price begins.

A deep breath exits Simon's chest.

"What is it?" You take a step closer to them, until you're standing next to him, crossing his arms over his chest he remains silent.

"We need you. For a mission." He states. "It's important, sergeant. I don't think anyone else would be able to pull this off." Your eyes dart back to your boyfriend. Staring daggers at his superior. "I'd never ask for this if I had to."

"Bloody hell Price, she's not fucking going!" He is seething.

The gut-wrenching feeling sets in your belly, tossing and turning with anxiety. Simon isn't taking this well and you don't want to see him like this, it breaks your heart.

"How important, Sir?" You ask.

Ghost snaps his head towards you. Jaw tightening, and calls your name ever so softly.

"Don't." He barks. "Don't fucking play the hero, kid." He warns you.

"I'm not trying to play the hero, Simon." You talk back. "I'm trying to figure out how to get this done. I might have someone else that could go in my place." Price sighs. "Can I do it from the base? Maybe I don't have to leave the compound."

"Reports say the files are heavily encrypted. It's the Russians, sergeant. We're not dealing with amateurs." He turns to Ghost emphasizing the last word. "You more than anyone should understand, Lieutenant."

"Not when you're bloody sending her to a suicide mission!"

"These are not my orders Simon! General Shepherd wants her! I tried to talk him out of it. I can't do much more, son." You swallow when Simon starts pacing around like a rabid dog, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Is there any way I can do it? She can guide me through it the whole time..." he's back, leaning closer to his Captain. "I know I...-"

"Unless you know how to code and decrypt systems to perfection it can't be, Ghost. I'm sorry."

"It would only slow down the mission, get you caught. And in danger..." you reasoned, mumbling and staring down to your feet. There's no one else. Not even Jimmy. The one you had in mind.

Simon's mouth snapped shut.

His eyes are helpless when he connects them with yours. The realization of what's about to happen sinking in his core, he tried. He really did.

One long stride and he's embracing you, so tightly you think you'll suffocate; you hug him back, head resting right over where his heart beats frantically against his ribcage.

"I'm coming with her." He snarls. "Not Kyle, not Johnny. And certainly not someone from fucking KorTac." He turns to glare at Price with a death stare. "It'll be me, no one else."

-

"John's devastated." You tell him. Your back pressing against his hard chest. The water in the bathtub is warm, and smells like lavender and sandalwood. After the catastrophic meeting a few hours ago, Simon was too outraged to remain at the base so he drove both of you back to the safety of his apartment. You rest your head on his left shoulder, enjoying the delicate touch of his hands on your lower belly. He hums, almost absentmindedly. He didn't want to think about Price, or the mission for all that matters. All he can think of is you. He sighs, closing his eyes he presses a kiss on your hair.

"Bloody fucking bald cunt." He spits. You snort at his comment. Shepherd was a complicated man, and hardly one you could negotiate with once he had his mind set on something or someone.

"When do we have to...-"

"Tomorrow." Your lips are pressed into a thin line. "I'll be there no matter what, right next to you, love." He reassures you. You were never one to hesitate during missions but now... releasing a shaky breath you turn your head to look at Simon.

"I'm scared..." Simon's body goes rigid. The hand on your stomach halting. "It's not even for me, you know?" Swallowing your free hand reaches down to find his own, lacing your fingers with him. A muscle becoming prominent in his jaw as he grits his teeth.

"Nothing will happen to you. Bloody count on it, yeah? First shite I deem dangerous I'm pulling us out of there, understand?" You nod.

"Promise me you won't get hurt." There's a moment of silence that becomes unbearable the longer it extends. "Simon..." his eyes are fixated on yours, shining with what you can only describe as worship. The faintest of smiles spreads across his features.

"Don't you worry about me, sweetheart. Not for one second." Breathing deeply you pull him down for a kiss. It's slow and tender; makes you forget about all the difficulties you face. Biting down his lip, Simon takes it as a sign to further deepen the kiss. Tongues finding each other in a fight for dominance. "Don't wanna think about what tomorrow holds. I have you here right now. That's all I need."

-

Your mind goes back to the moments you and Simon shared last night. It was so simple, so real.

That's how things were supposed to be.

Easy.

Not heart wrenching, not stifling down a cry as you watch him get shot. A bullet that was aimed at you .Breaking in had been easy. Way too easy for your liking. But you thought that for once maybe a mission wouldn't be a pain in the ass. The hardest part was getting inside their systems; John was right. It was hellish even for you. It took more time than what you had anticipated. No one would've been able to pull it off.

"Whoever is behind this, they're good." You acknowledged as you type down the codes that will eventually get you in.

"Bloody brilliant you are, kid." Simon watches from the other side of the room, eyes scanning the hallway every now and then looking for any possible hostiles. You send him a coy smile.

"Keep looking at me like that and I'll get no work done."

"How am I supposed to look at you then?" He asks

You don't answer because the screen in front of you suddenly shifts from 'Access denied' to 'Access granted'.

"Got you." You whisper. Simon stands straight. You plug your USB and start downloading all the information as well as setting a virus so their system gets permanently damaged.

"What is it?" He gruffly asks when the files finished downloading on your own device. Clearing your throat you try to ignore the horrible pictures you just took a glimpse of.

"Just... insanity." Is all you can say. A loud metallic sound echoes in the room, you never get to see the person behind you. Ghost's eyes widen and he barks an order your ears don't register, static fills your eardrums. The gunfire starts but lasts mere seconds. Crimson blood splutters from Simon's body.

You stand up, knocking down the chair as you jump out and run where Simon's injured body kneels. You fall down grabbing him by the face. The pain you're feeling deep inside has never been worse.

"I'm fine." He hisses. "Just my fucking shoulder."

As if that would make you feel better.

"Let's get the hell out of here." Your lips quiver. You run back to retrieve the small USB drive.

The body of a man lays down, a pool of blood forms around him. He was hiding behind you the entire time. Had Simon been distracted the outcome could've been atrocious. Yo don't dwell on it.

"Come on, baby." You urge him, crouching down to help Simon as much as you can to get him standing. His weight is just too much for you, you think, when he finally raised to his feet.

"S'okay love. Don't... don't overwork yourself. I'm too heavy, don't wanna get you hurt because of me."

Tears form in the corner of you eyes at such selfless act.

"You're the one who got hurt because of me, Simon." You stammer.

"So what? Would fucking die for you." You shake your head but keep close to him. Pressing down the wound on his shoulder as you head towards the exit. "Evac point is ten minutes away. We should be fine." The gun that rests on your thigh feels heavier than it should.

You're lucky, you guess as you walk away from the god forsaken building.

Lucky that you have him by your side, even when his blood stains your fingers. He's there, you're there and you're making it out alive. Wounded or not, Simon would never let anything happen to you, that's how deep his love for you was.

He wasn't like his dad at all.

He was real, caring, something not much people knew. Not in their lifetime.

The amount of blood he was losing was inhumane. An injured shoulder couldn't cause someone to lose this much blood, you ponder. Your black shirt feels sticky and damp, you take a quick glance and hold back a sob. Another gunshot wound, one he didn't care enough to tell you about and you didn't notice, too scared to even think.

Far in the distance between two big threes a black truck awaits. Johnny's face dropping when he noticed Ghost's decaying form. He rushes in your direction, taking him off of you, carrying his weight. He gives you a concerned look.

"Johnny..." you choke up. "We have to save him, please."

-

It's been the worst 48 hours of your life since you landed. He got two surgeries done in order to remove the fragments from inside his body. You were exhausted, barely ate or slept. It almost felt criminal, selfish, when your eyes started to close and finally gave in.

Then the nightmares came.

Ones where he didn't make it back and instead you had to leave him behind and never got to meet his child.

A warm feeling spreads from your skin. A faint touch. Are you still dreaming? His face erupts in your subconscious mind and you cry again. He's fine.

When you slowly open up your eyes you're met with blue eyes and a raspy voice.

"Don't neglect yourself for me, kid." You're speechless, the searing pain in your heart eases. He knows you so well. Knows you haven't left his side. "Takes more than a bullet to keep me away from you." When you don't move nor speak he continues, clearing his throat. "Come here, sweet thing."

There's a new wave of tears that fall mercilessly down your cheeks. You carefully climb up next to Simon's good side.

"Don't you ever scare me like that!" you weep. Sobbing uncontrollably Simon hushes you. Murmuring words of comfort in your ear. The anesthesia is still making him feel dizzy but that doesn't stop him from kissing every part of your face. Your hair, your forehead, your cheek and finally your lips.

"Let's leave this place for a while. Go on vacation while we still can..." you beg.

Simon's lips twitch. He's smiling down at you.

"What do you have in mind doll?"

You breathe deeply.

"Greece. I always wanted to go to Greece."

There's moments in life when you doubt you'll get a happy ending. Being with Simon at first was pure coincidence, something that had evolved from deep admiration and respect, which then turned into something more. It turned out to sleepless nights at the common room with the task force. Longing stares during briefings. Looking after each other during missions.

The training sessions together. Lending his massive leather jacket because you were always reluctant to bring your own. That one night he couldn't resist it anymore and went to your dorm. How you felt under his touch, oh he was touch starved when it came to you. And when he learned he was going to be a father, that moment would be ingrained into his memory until his very last day.

"Greece it is."

It's a promise.

TAGS:

@nijiru @illyanam1011

[markantonys]

scattered other 3x04 notes (including book spoilers):

there is no redstone doorway in rhuidean. i haven't seen anyone else mention this yet, but it was the #1 thing on my mind for the entire episode! do we think moiraine's and lanfear's fates will be different in some way in the show, or will they manage to wind up finding a doorway to fight in front of anyway? because show!rhuidean visions had it very specifically limited to the tree and the orb that were entrusted to the aiel, there weren't additional objects of power being carted around with them. and from the pic of moiraine glammed up and holding the orb in 3x08, it does feel like the orb is going to be relevant to their big fight. but how? do they get sucked into the orb and transported to finnland? or do they really both actually die for real and mat's missing eye foreshadowing in nynaeve's test vision was for naught?

i love that they kept the future AU of moiraine and rand hooking up LMAO i howled, it was so funny. and i wish they'd lingered longer on the Evil EF6 AU so i could get a closer look, they all look SO hot as evil versions!!!

Queer Randcestor has my WHOLE heart <333 that made me so happy!! the closest we will get to seeing queer rand onscreen haha (fic premise: present-day rand gets a bi awakening triggered after having experienced having a husband through the eyes of his ancestor djkfgj)

and the Hobbit Randcestor being in a little bestie trio with mat and perrin knockoffs! <3 josha did a pretty good job with an irish accent considering how incredibly hard it is to do regional accents in a non-native language! i hope donal and ayoola are proud! also, he did so well with having so much old tongue dialogue, it sounded great!!

i was SO thrilled that rand & avi got a little solo moment together in rhuidean. that was wonderful!! we can see them starting to see each other in a different light and understand each other better. avi being like "whatever, see you later wetlander (semi-affectionate)" and rand smiling after her <3

i miss mat-as-rand's-rhuidean-companion so dearly, but i can definitely understand how that wouldn't have fit with the show's version of rand's s3 emotional arc. i'll always have the book version of rand making the wise ones let his emotional support boyfriend defy all custom and tradition by coming to rhuidean with him! (although i didn't love moiraine getting mat's gag of "unloading an improbable number of weapons from increasingly-unlikely places"; i'm fine with shifting moments to different characters when appropriate, but that moment feels like it's more about mat than about rhuidean, so i would've preferred it stay with mat but happen in a different context than stay in the rhuidean context but happen with a different character. but that's a very minor quibble! and the moiraine moment was played fairly straight, so maybe mat can get an overtly comedic moment of a similar gag later.)

me seeing sevanna: oh no she's hot!! haha ONCE AGAIN they have struck us with hot villains. if Hot Sevanna and Hot Couladin want a third, i am available!

bair telling rand and egwene that their paths don't align, she really said "oh my god break UP already" jdkjfg i do think their breakup will come in the next episode or at the LATEST in episode 6 (maddy mentioned having a "cathartic" scene with josha under the block 3 director, so surely that has to be the moment when they finally talk everything out and decide they have to put their relationship to bed), but we shall see!

[baldurs-writers-3]

Time Skips & Future Fics: A Baldur's Gate 3 Fanfic Rec list

This week, we have Time Skips & Future Fics!  Check under the cut for a whopping nineteen fics that show all our favorite companions and what they’re doing years after the Absolute Crisis. And as always, comment and kudos if you like them!

One Last Crooked Night by Scaryanne (34342, Explicit) Warnings: None Pairings: Gale/Tav, Astarion/Tav

Tav is engaged to marry Gale. Astarion is in love with Tav. Tav is in love with... Astarion. UH-OH

Reccer says: I'm a sucker for reading about idiots in love who could solve so many problems with some simple communication but instead choose to do anything but that. Also it is a nice exploration of what somebody "Should do" verses what they WANT to do.

A Gift, A Curse by El_emit (195161, Explicit) Warnings: Graphic violence, non-con/rape, mind control Pairings: Astarion/Tav

A story in which we discover just how damned an ascended vampire can be, and just how far you will go to save the elf you loved.

Reccer says: A post canon "what happened after we let him ascend" fic. The author does a phenomenal job of world building, tugging on your emotions, making you feel shocked and afraid and excited for what's coming next all at once. Most chapters have left me on the edge of my chair waiting for more of the story to unfold. (Still ongoing!)

Coming Home by MoisopolonOikia (roughlytwentytwofrogs) (15962, Mature) Warnings: PTSD/Anxiety, descriptions of panic attacks and hypervigilance, amputated MC Pairings: Shadowheart/Lae'zel

Lae'zel comes back to Faerûn after the war on Vlaakith is won, a decade after the illithid invasion. She meets Halsin at the grove and travels with him towards Last Light Inn to find her lover Shadowheart and all her old friends there, but she has to deal with the toll the years of fighting have taken on her body and mind on the way.

Reccer says: Very sweet and emotional slowburn with a focus on exploring a post-Vlaakith Lae'zel that came back changed after 10 years of warring. Made me cry more than once (it's a good thing i promise)

The stars in between. by ElleKhen (17795, Explicit) Warnings: Pairings: Astarion/Tav

Years after the events of the game, Withers invites Church, Astarion, and their former companions back for yet another party — a cozy, festive celebration of Simril! Thrilled at the prospect of seeing his friends together again, Church takes the opportunity to indulge in a nostalgic tradition of his old village. But once Astarion realizes that this tradition involves giving gifts, he desperately tries to come up with a last-minute gift worthy enough for his partner with help from their friends and a certain (former) god of death.

Reccer says: I love how cozy and lighthearted and fun it is

Exile (Or: How You Learned to Stay) by Astarionfreak (51877, Explicit) Warnings: Non-con, mind control, graphic violence Pairings: Astarion/The Dark Urge, Shadowheart/The Dark Urge

When you have nothing, and the only one who offers you anything is the vampire you've spurned, what else can you say to him but yes?

Reccer says: A post canon story that explores the cost of seven thousand souls and how far Astarion will go to keep what he wants. This fic is exceptional. It perfectly captures every element of a gothic horror, it weaves together foreshadowing and layers to the story that you don't realize until you're reading the reveal. I have cried and laughed and fell in love with the heroine; it has made me loath a character I love. This isn't a feel good story, and if you're looking for a dark way to take things, this is where you should go.

I'm Feeling For Her What She's Feeling For Me by Zetal (Rodinia) (757, General) Warnings: None Pairings: Karlach/Tav

A cute short fluff fic that takes place two years after the end of the game.

Reccer says: It's short and sweet and I just want to give Karlach a giant hug 💕

turn the lights back on by weatheredlaw (16 104, Explicit) Warnings: None Pairings: Gale/Shadowheart

four years after they parted in baldur's gate, shadowheart arrives in waterdeep with a wish scroll in hand and asks gale for his help casting it. it winds up being more than either of them expects.

Reccer says: There's such a cozy feel to this! All the interactions between all the different characters, the excellent characterization and the musings they have. It's a very interesting little introspection.

As we were by LycheeShark (9363, Explicit) Warnings: None Pairings: Astarion/Durge

Former lovers Astarion and Minx end up back in their old bodies--back when he was Cazador's spawn, not the vampire ascendant, and back when she was still trapped in Bhaal's clutches with all the urges that entail. Together, they must figure out a way back to the future they came from.

Reccer says: It's so engaging!! This fic just hooks you straight off the bat. Great character voices, especially for Gortash and Sceleritas, fantastic premise and things are always happening!

Appetites by SpaceMonkeySalsa (72213, Explicit) Warnings: Suicide, depression, smut Pairings: Astarion/OFC

It's been five years since the Vampire Ascendant Astarion helped save Baldur's Gate. He has everything he ever wanted, and he's miserable. Isolde is nobody, and has nothing. When given the option to become a vampire spawn, her response gives Astarion a moment of pause; “No. Thank you. I think I’ll just die.”

Reccer says: I'm not normally into Ascended Astarion but I love this fic. It's very well written, and shows that Astarion has a bit of remorse about his actions. He has a complicated relationship with the primary character, Isolde; but it's not the only conflict brewing in the story. Features cameos from several other evil-ending!members of the rest of Team Tadpole as well.

she will come back by sevensistersofsussex (14297, Explicit) Warnings: angst with a happy ending, smut Pairings: Wyll/Tav

A decade after a rejected proposal, tiefling Tav sees Wyll once again. Old feelings come back.

Reccer says: I like the emotion and longing between the two characters.

Harper Files: A - Team by Tynithia (17552, Mature) Warnings: None Pairings: Emperor/Tav, Tav & OCs

Four years after the Netherbrain, Ellandra is now a Harper, under Jaheira's cell. She and her Harper Squad are tasked to find the source of some magical occurrences around Baldur's Gate

Reccer says: Fun action/adventure comedy with original characters along with cameos and a plot!

Midwinter in Waterdeep by woodsnweaves (4229, Mature) Warnings: None Pairings: Gale/Tav

After the events of the game, the main character of this fic realizes she's not one for a routine, scheduled life in Waterdeep. She and Gale fell in love quickly and didn't realize how difficult it would be to adjust to a new life together.

Reccer says: This is easily my favorite Gale fic I've read. It's such a great blend of angst and happiness. The way the author conveys their emotions is absolutely tear-jerking and I LOVE IT. I've read this multiple times and still adore it.

Weeping Dawn by Hadesgirl015 (1483, Teen) Warnings: Major character death Pairings: Tav/Karlach, Tav&Wyll

A shortly after the end of the game fic, exploring the deep grief felt when the love of your life is gone.

Reccer says: The grief in this is so well written and explored, and it's such beautiful work for how short and sweet it is. I cried while reading this.

Closing the Fist by aqeldroma (78366, Explicit) Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Pairings: Gortash/The Dark Urge

A month past her victory over the netherbrain at Gortash's side, the Dark Urge, newly devoted to Bane, returns to Baldur's Gate with an urgent mission. But complications are afoot, and tyranny is never quite straightforward.

Reccer says: 75k+ words of post-canon evil intrigue; the Netherbrain as an actual character; the Zhentarim featuring in a big way.

What you made me by Denesmera (11452, Mature) Warnings: None Pairings: Astarion/Tav, Halsin/Tav

It's been almost 6 months since they defeated the Elderbrain. Everybody seems to have found a purpose in life, expect Maeva.

Reccer says: Denesmera crafts a beautiful tale with elegant prose. I love the dynamics of her struggle with her purpose.

the cure for the world is saltwater by Raayide (16871, Teen) Warnings: None Pairings: astarion/karlach

Can Astarion really have a 'happily ever after' waiting for him considering the past 200 years?

Reccer says: Heart-wrenching and heartwarming all at once

Servitude by krapka (10 137, Explicit) Warnings: Dubious Consent, Stockholm Syndrome, Power Imbalance, Master/Servant, Sex Slave Pairings: Astarion/Original Character

It's been 7 centuries since the defeat of the Absolute, and the city of Baldur’s Gate, ruled by a legendary Eternal Duke Ancunin and forsaken by all gods, has descended into perpetual darkness. Aveline is one of the 'faded' - a group of people who this cruel world changed the most. Yet she possesses a unique talent.

Reccer says: Nobody writes porn like krapka. The characters don't even have to fuck before the fucking starts. The tension is always on point, and a lot is done with the world building with few words here and there. I'm so stoked to see where this is going!

Tidal Memories by Irken (4900 atm, it's a freshly-posted wip, Mature) Warnings: Canon-typical violence Pairings: The Emperor/Illithid Tav

It's an adventure/boat trip story 5 years post-game about the Emperor, illithid Tav, and some of the other companions (Wyll, Karlach, Gale, Astarion) going to the royal court of Tethyr to retrieve the Shield of Silvam. They explore both cities along the coast and their relationships with each other.

Reccer says: Irken's prose about being illithid and mind melding specifically is really sweet and thoughtful...

And then we have two recs for:

The Legends of Nexus Vermis by Masterangst12 (84260, Mature) Warnings: Canon-typical violence, torture, past abuse Pairings: Tav/Astarion

A post-game adventure taking place a few months after the reunion party following Astarion and Axel (Tav) meeting up with their former traveling companions.

Reccer #1 says:  The author describes things beautifully, and their OCs are engaging and fun to read about. I love their Tav (Axel) so much, and his relationship with Astarion. Reccer #2 says:  This is one of my favorite post game fics that I'm reading. I've been keeping up with it for a while now and I've just fallen in love with the original characters created for it. The author does such a great job of describing the scenes around them, I always have a very clear picture of what's going on!

The above fanfic recommendations were pulled from our community for this weekly event. Have any questions about what this is? Check out the FAQ! Next week, we’ll be back with a heartbreaking and bloody theme, Revenge Fics!

[maccreadysbaby]

A Hundred Ways to Become a Wayne

batfamily + oc insert

tw: none

wanna read more? here’s the table of contents!

want to read the first fic in the hundred days series so you understand what’s going on here? here it is!

and john’s back at it again ALSO one of his lines is FORESHADOWING babdmdkdkfjsn

part thirty-seven

❝ PLAN B ❞

THURSDAY — SEPTEMBER 3 — 12:00 PM

BENTLEY WAS PRETTY SURE HE’D NEVER MET ANYONE, NOT EVEN THE PUPPET MASTER, WHO COULD PULL STRINGS LIKE A WAYNE. Because, less than four hours later (with Bruce’s blessing), Bentley Whittaker and Jason Todd were waiting to get called into the visitation room at Blackgate Penitentiary to see his father.

Bentley hadn’t expected to be so nervous. Maybe he should’ve, since he was going to talk to the man who’d abused him for ten years, kidnapped him, poisoned him, and was now turning people into terrifying monsters whose only soul purpose was to murder his family. Not to mention that he’d just been patted and scanned and checked all over by people who, he was pretty darn positive, were carrying guns. And he was in a prison. Full of, like, murderers and stuff.

Before they’d left the house, he’d been a normal amount of nervous, but now, sitting in the empty prison hallway, he was downright horrified. He and Jason were sitting in uncomfortable metal chairs, staring down at old tile. Bentley’s knee was bouncing at a pace that might rival Nico’s superpowers. Honestly, as dreary as it was, he’d rather be back at the Manor sitting on the same loveseat watching Asten puke his guts out every ten minutes. (Because, yes, that was happening again.)

Bentley heard Jason breathe in and out. “You know, it’s not too late to back out.”

Bentley glanced over at him. They were both a little more presentable now, mirroring one another in varying colored jeans and hoodies. Jason had fixed his hair in its typical upward fashion, putting the white streak on full display. He was looking back at Bentley, a serious look on his face, his greenish-blue eyes gleaming oddly under the fluorescent lights. 

Bentley looked down at his ratty red tennis shoes, at his vigorously bouncing knee. “No.”

He felt Jason’s eyes on him, and could practically feel the smirk on his face when he replied: “You sure? Because you look like you’re trying to pedal a broken bicycle.”

Bentley forced his knee to stop moving. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Jason said, patting Bentley’s knee once, quickly. “Just… really think about it. I can’t come in with you, so it’ll just be you, him, and a cop. If you really don’t want to do it, that’s okay.”

Bentley let out a puff of air. “I’m going to do it.”

“Okay,” He saw Jason nod in his peripheral, and after a moment of silence, he leaned in close and continued: “But if anything happens, I’ll blow that door off its hinges before the cops even know what’s happening.”

Bentley cracked a smile at that, and Jason sat back with a triumphant smirk.

Waiting felt like both an eternity and a split second. One minute, he and Jason were sitting alone in the hall, the next, he was being ushered through a big, thick door by a female officer who was relaying ground rules and reinforcing the fact that Bentley only had twenty minutes to talk to his dad.

“You don’t have to stay for all twenty,” Jason interrupted as Bentley was whisked down the hall, which the officer didn’t really appreciate. The woman kept talking but Bentley couldn’t really focus; he was too busy trying to peer into the visitation area. 

The long, barren hallway turned into a long, barren room, lined with plexiglass booths. There were no other people in there. Each booth had a phone and desk on either side, separated in the middle by a wall of glass. There was a sign above every window that said: please don’t scratch the glass!

Bentley steeled when he spotted a mop of red hair that matched his to the tee, sitting behind one of the windows. He breathed in and out. His father couldn’t get to him behind the glass, right? Bentley didn’t see any holes or doors or ways for him to get into the room. The police officer, whose hair Bentley could now see was black, closed the door to the room and went to stand along the wall.

With a final quick glance up to her, Bentley made his way to the rickety spinning stool across from his father. Third booth from the right.

He looked… different. Not so clean cut. His hair was longer — he’d always been so anal about trimming his hair that Bentley was thoroughly shocked at the sight of the shaggy red mop that looked a lot like his own now. He had a little facial hair, too, patchy and strange looking. He was wearing a matching set of gray clothes, not a pressed suit, and when Bentley sat down, his shiny brown eyes bored into the child’s head like an electric drill.

Bentley, when he sat down, moved his feet up to the highest rung on the stool in an attempt to make himself smaller. Cut the head off the snake, right? That’s what he was here to do; stop the operation in its tracks. So… how was he supposed to manipulate the manipulator? (In hindsight, maybe he should’ve thought a little bit more before he decided to go to the prison.)

His father picked up the black wall-phone on his side of the glass and brought it up to his ear. Talking openly about, like, crime and stuff was pretty stupid, though, wasn’t it?

Bentley lifted his hands, finger-spelling: sign.

His father put the phone back.

A moment of silence passed where Bentley’s father just sort of watched him closely; contemplating. His eyes scoured what had to be every inch of his son’s appearance before he lifted his hands and signed: ‘You’ve grown.’

Bentley thought long and hard about how he should respond. He considered saying: Yeah, food helps with that, but decided against it. Instead, he just bobbed his fist yes. This was already way harder than he’d thought. How was he supposed to talk to him? After he’d… you know. After all, his father never really gave up, even in jail.

Bentley kept his gaze trained on his father’s hands like he used to, avoiding eye contact like the plague. He didn’t want to see his face. 

The hands moved. ‘How is school?’

Bentley breathed in and out, fingerspelling: ‘Fine.’ Well, besides having a murdering mad scientist (who moves at his father’s command.) for a teacher, and a bully who thought it would be funny to lock Bentley in the janitor's closet. That and the fact that he was now in the public eye for living with Bruce. He didn’t even want to know what the news reports looked like lately. Bruce Wayne’s newest child, gone without a trace?

John nodded. Another brief moment of staring ensued, before he brought his hands up again. ‘Made any friends?’

Not besides the ones you tried to kill. Bentley blinked a few times, moving his fingers calculatively. ‘Yes. But you already knew that.’

His father’s expression grew curious, in an arrogant sort of way, like he was raising his brows to say oh, really? Bentley only looked at him for a second before his eyes drifted back to the table his father’s elbows were resting on. 

‘I know you’re still talking to Dr. Keene,’ Bentley signed subtly, glancing at the officer behind them, who looked anything but engaged. ‘And I’m sure you know by now that he had us at the facility. Then he didn’t.’

His father said nothing. Typical, and a great way to piss off an already sort of simmering-in-his-own-silent-rage kind of child. 

Bentley kept his hands moving, lest they stop. ‘You’re hurting innocent people just to get back at me? I never did anything to you.’

John lifted his hands, his fingers twitching oddly for a moment before he signed: ‘It wasn’t about you. It was about Bruce.’

Bentley fought the urge to roll his eyes. ‘But-’

‘Bruce is the reason your mother and sister are dead. And then he came along and took you away from me, too,’ His father’s hands were sort of trembling, now, his expression intense and hard. Bentley could feel his eyes but still wouldn’t look right at them.

‘You didn’t even want me. What sense is there in attacking someone who got the kid you never wanted? Now you don’t have to deal with me,’ Bentley signed, looking at his father’s hands, shaking his head subtly. ‘You hate me, and now I’m somebody else’s problem. You should be happy.’

‘I don’t hate you,’ Was his father’s reply. Bentley saw his expression change. ‘I love you.’

The child breathed in through his nose. Not this, not again. Get the conversation back on track — control it. ‘No, you don’t.’

‘You can’t tell me what I do and don’t love; you don’t know,’ His father signed. ‘I love you.’

‘No, you don’t, and I don’t care. That’s not what I’m here to talk about,’ Bentley tried, but his signs went unnoticed. 

‘I do, Bentley. I love you,’

Bentley inhaled sharply, looking down at the table with a few blinks. The last time his father had said that, it was a big fat lie. What had Bentley ever done to deserve all of that? All of this? What did he do not to deserve his father’s love?

Still, he caved for the patented back-and-forth arguing game. ‘You don’t.’

‘You just don’t want to accept the fact that maybe you’re wrong.’ His father signed, lowering his head so it was more in Bentley’s view. ‘You don’t want to accept the fact that I can change. That I can be more than the monster under your bed.’

What if his father could change? Not that Bentley thought he was. He was still a crazy psycho killer. But what if, one day, he wasn’t? What if, one day, he really was more than the monster from Bentley’s past? What if one day he really wanted to love him? 

What if he wanted him back one day?

Bentley tried to push the thoughts out of his mind — he was on a mission. He was the Puppeteer. Right? His father couldn’t really love him. Right?

‘You asked me in the warehouse why I didn’t love you, and I’m telling you now, that I do,’ His father continued to sign, and Bentley’s eyes began to burn. He tried to push it away with everything in him, but something didn’t want to let go of the hope. The hope that maybe his real dad could love him again. ‘I did some awful things to you out of my own pain. Terrible things I would never wish upon any child in this world. I don’t know if I’ll ever do enough good to make up for it, but the one thing I can make damn well sure I do is let you know that I do love you.’

Bentley looked down at the table. It had been almost a year. Could someone change so fast? A year was long enough, wasn’t it?

‘You’re not lying this time?’ He signed in return.

‘No, Bentley. I didn’t see it before, but I see it now — getting you taken away, coming here, spending my time thinking, reflecting… It helped me realize that you were the best thing that ever happened to me. The only thing I really wanted. Needed.’

Bentley shook his head, blinking away the beginnings of tears. Rational thought and logic said he was lying. Hope said something else. ‘I don’t believe you.’

To the child’s surprise, his father smiled. Actually, literally smiled. With teeth and all. Teeth. Bentley’s father never smiled, let alone at him. ‘That’s okay. I’ll just keep saying it. I love you.’

Bentley shook his head, breathing in, swallowing thickly. ‘Stop.’

‘I love you, Bentley. I love you so much,’

‘Stop lying,’ He tried again.

‘I love you,’

‘Stop it,’

‘Look up at me. Please?’

That strange little sliver of hope had Bentley lifting his head on command, his brown eyes meeting the identical ones of his father. His father had tears — actual, honest tears — beginning to glimmer at the bottom of his eyes, a smile playing on his lips.

‘People can change, Bentley. You’re surrounded by them. Damian Wayne went from being a murderer to a superhero. Jason Todd went from rage-killing to a full-time older brother,’ He explained with his hands, smile staying all the while. ‘I can change, Bentley. I want to change. I just need you to have faith in me.’

Bentley stared, dumbfounded, vision slightly obscured by the liquid in his eyes.

‘I,’ His father separated the signs for emphasis with a smile, and an honest to goodness tear went down the man’s face. ‘Love. You.’ 

All that reliable rational thought and logic went out the window, and Bentley brought a hand to his mouth. Of all the things he expected to do while talking to his father, crying was not one of them. But here he was. Crying. (He probably should’ve expected to cry anyways. He was basically a professional at it.)

For a moment, he just rested his elbows on the table and put his head in his hands. So many red flags were waving in his mind, alarm bells sounding, lights flashing, telling him his father was lying, deceiving him, but he couldn’t really bring himself to accept it. He couldn’t. Not when his father had just told him he’d loved him ten times in one conversation. Not when Bentley was so close to feeling what he’d always wanted to feel. His father loving him was different from Dick or Bruce, it was… more. It didn’t feel the same. Different, long overdue, and… really, really, really, really good.

So, there he sat for a solid five minutes at least, his palms buried in his eye sockets in an attempt to keep the tears in. (It didn’t work. When did it ever?) He was biting his tongue to keep silent in fear Jason really would hear him crying through the wall and come break it down. 

Logic told him to stop. To pay attention. To use his Puppeteer mind to see through everything his father was saying. That if he really had changed, if he really loved him, he wouldn’t be doing all of this.

The part of him that wanted so badly to be loved didn’t let him. 

Because what if his dad really did love him?

There was a subtle peck on the glass, and Bentley looked up again, finally letting his (watery, and red.) brown eyes meet his father’s and stay there. He was still smiling, kind of like Bruce always did. 

‘It’s been a year, and you still crumble under the weight of three small words. I thought I taught you better than that.’

Bentley sat up, wiping at his eyes, and glanced around the room warily. His father’s smile fell into nothing — something cold, like Bentley was used to. This wasn’t… he hadn’t… again?

‘You were lying?’

‘I thought you lived with detectives, Bentley,’ He signed, one eyebrow raised in a triumphant manner. He leaned in close to the glass, and Bentley instinctively moved away. ‘Listen, and listen closely, because this is the last thing I’m saying to you.’

Bentley looked down at his shaky hands. That strange feeling came again, the same one he felt at the Manor. He heard water moving through the pipes in the ceiling. He felt his blood pumping.

‘Even if you get Dr. Keene arrested, even if you kill Charlie and release the other children and destroy this entire operation from the ground up, you’re going to lose. If I can’t destroy the Wayne’s alone, I’ll just watch all of Gotham burn instead,’ He signed, a strangely competent look coming across his face like he was having a normal business transaction. ‘We have a plan B that you won’t touch, that you won’t even know about until it’s too late. Think of it as a boss fight in a video game. It’s coming. And you can’t stop it.’

Bentley exhaled a shaky breath, wiping at his eyes.

‘If you find a way to stop this — if you make us change to plan B, all the thousands of lives lost here in Gotham are on your head,’ His father smiled a crooked smile, different from the last. ‘There’s no way for you to win, Bentley. This is the end. It's your choice how many people come out of it.’

Bentley’s hands were shaking when he signed: ‘You’re not going to win.’

His father laughed. Literally laughed, out loud. ‘If you really think so, then keep your eye on the news channels. If you keep your ears open you might hear the warning call before the end comes.’

Bentley looked down at his own lap. 

‘And Bentley…’ His father signed, and the child looked up one last time. ‘Just to clear things up… not a single atom of my very being has ever loved you… and not a single atom ever will.’

That was the moment a part of Bentley… died. Something inside of him shifted. The little boy that wanted his dad to love him so badly faded away to nothing, and left something oddly empty and wrong in its wake. Something like rage, but muffled by something else he couldn’t place right then.

Bentley stood up from the stool, letting out a breath of air. ‘That’s okay. Bruce loves me better than you ever could. Don’t you ever get tired of being second best?’

He didn’t wait for his father’s reply, but turned to leave the room.

“Oh, and Bentley…”

He turned back to his father one last time, who was standing now, with a smile. “When the elements are pitted against one another, fire always wins.”

Bentley said nothing. The officer led him out of the room.

When Bentley made it back into the hallway and Jason noticed his red rimmed eyes, he looked like he was going to kill someone.

“Bentley?” He questioned, standing up when they got close. “What happened?”

“I think they had a heartfelt conversation. I couldn’t really hear it, of course — I didn’t know the boy didn’t talk,” Said the officer, patting Bentley’s shoulder. “He’s all yours. Make sure you check up with security on your way out.”

Jason took Bentley’s shoulder and replied with a: “Yeah…”

The walk out of the prison felt like an eternity. Somehow, Bentley was feeling everything and nothing at all. It felt like everything negative inside of him — rage, sadness, despair, desperation, terror, loneliness, disappointment, frustration, a whole entire life’s worth of guilt — it was like it was all broiling and fighting to get out, but the lid of the pot was closed too tight. Like it was seeping out of crevices and waiting for the day Bentley Whittaker breaks.

“What did he say to you?” Jason practically demanded, his hand staying firmly on Bentley’s left shoulder as they walked through the not-very-crowded parking lot. He had a very deadpan, sort of pissed off look on his face. 

Bentley looked everywhere but at Jason, dutifully shutting down the urges to cry or throw a tantrum or punch something or burn down a house. “I just… can we just go home? Please? I don’t want to be here anymore.”

“Did he threaten you?” Jason continued, squeezing Bentley’s shoulder as they split to go on either side of the car. Jason climbed in the driver’s seat, and Bentley hopped into the passenger’s side.

“No,” Bentley replied once they were both in Jason’s car, buckling his seatbelt. Not directly, anyway…

“Why have you been crying?”

Bentley looked down at his lap as the car started up. “Can we just go home?”

Jason didn’t argue.

—

dedicated to @sassenashsworld 💚

—

tag list! (If you want me to remove or add you, ask in comments!)

@fleur-alise @sarcopterygiian @flyrobinflyy @skylathescholar @gayboss-too-close-to-the-sun @xiaonothere

[hockeybot]

65, 17, & 81!!

65 - what is your favourite title for a fic you’ve written?

I don't think really hard about my titles but I really love wordplay and parenthesis.

The absolute favourite is (so easy it's) Child's Play - a fun little character study in Sengoku Basara set pre-canon when they were children before they grow up to be warlords and bitter enemies but also when one was a political hostage in the homeland of the other. The summary on this one was 'Even in war, they were still children first and foremost' but the title speaks to how it's not easy to be children, the difficulties of building a relationship, how 'child's play' in this sense is very much a foreshadow of the different sides of a war that they'll find themselves on. There's very much an undercurrent of bittersweet knowledge of the future that this speaks to.

In hrpf, it's keep me (next to you) because it works on like, several levels. It's a direct lyric from Taylor Swift's 22 and it speaks to the overall theme (keep me as an entreaty because he's growing up and growing apart, next to you because this is a character study of who he is to different people, as a son, as a friend, as a lover, as a teammate) and the full line of 'everything will be alright if you keep me next to you.'

One of the comments spoke to the underlying wishfulness even though it's a relatively light and happy piece, and it's true. To be a hockey pro, you leave your family early. With Stank (and Delly, ig), how do you rebuild and continue a relationship when so many things have changed. The hope of winning a cup with your team, and the trust you have with your teammates.

Honestly, though, I kinda come up with a title on a whim and then squint at myself afterwards to figure out why I thought it fit. This is a theme. I work on autopilot.

17 -  what is your favorite line you’ve ever written?

Non hrpf - TORN but uh.

he lets himself touch without first landing a blow.

Or

Even after Hideyoshi's death, the seasons continue to turn, the winter white robes of mourning melting into the pale green of celebration, trembling and new.

OR MAYBE

She tells him the fighting will not last forever, though her hands are calloused and the brightness of her smile marred by blood.

As single sentences, these do a lot of heavy lifting. I like to distill down to bare bones as much as possible and then use repetition to drive things home, ahahaha.

hrpf wise, uh.

Ty's sun-kissed, pink across the top of his cheekbones, eyes brighter in contrast, like the summer has set up residence inside him already.

I like seeing Delly through Wyatt's eyes, the way Wyatt's drawn to him, it makes me picture my favourite smiling Delly. (I hope) you can feel the depth of emotion from Wyatt in this one line.

81 - if you could go back in time and give your younger self a piece of writing advice specific to you, what would it be?

Not everything you write needs to be perfect, just write. Write more, write prolifically, write for yourself and not publish it. Don't be afraid - of getting bad feedback or not getting feedback at all. It doesn't need to be for an audience as long as you're getting something out of it. Writing is a muscle to be flexed and you won't get stronger unless you keep pushing your boundaries.

writing ask game!!

[hauntedwizardmoment]

director's commentary for the chunk from "hollowed out and filled with feathers" that starts with "That night, after they’re settled into their room for the night..." and ends with "he's incredible at his job" 👀

oh my god YAY hollowed out is. kind of my baby <3 theyre all my babies but hollowed out is where Cool Girl Thesis lives and i love Cool Girl Thesis. i stand by my cancelled husband evil bisexual purse dog jace stardiamond. i love it when characters have no sense of their identity outside of what other people demand from them and are driven to madness by their own. well. hollowness.

so like. right before the start of this:

That night, after they’re settled into their room for the night (and the route to Sunpeak is charted out), he buys them several cases of the cheapest beer he can find, and pulls out a deck of cards for Porter’s favorite game. “Strip poker?”

we have porter giving jace a direct order to relax. and like, jace is clearly not relaxed. he's about to watch peregrine (guy he was in love with) and aurora (his fundie ex-coworker who ruined his life) get married. but porter gave him an order, so this is him making a show of how relaxed he is. they're gonna play a game porter likes but jace himself doesn't really care for. it doesnt help jace relax but it makes porter think jace is relaxed, is chill, is Cool Girl, and thats what matters

He loses deliberately, plays terribly on purpose and ignores the math in his head telling him exactly what cards Porter has. The tepid beer tastes disgusting and leaves his mouth dry, but he downs it anyways. Wills his shoulders to slouch, tosses his hair back and laughs as he unbuttons his shirt slowly, teasing, after Porter wins again. The goal is to relax, and godsfuckingdammit, he’ll show Porter how relaxed he can be.

jace dumbing himself down, drinking beer he doesnt like, and playing up the flirty act because again, he gets that when porter says "relax" he doesnt mean "curl up in bed doing crosswords and watch medical dramas until you fall asleep" he means "do something that i find fun and sexy, but don't be better than me because that's threatening."

He’ll show all of them just how much better he’s doing. 

and it's all a show because he's still deeply bitter and angry about losing his party and getting replaced.

His laughter turns genuine after the fifth beer, when he’s down to just his underwear and Porter’s still fully clothed. Even with the capital-P Plan and the thought of seeing his old party weighing on him, Porter still manages to make him smile. “You make me so, so happy,” he’s tipsy and stupid, just the way Porter likes him. “I was so lost without you,” he says, as a pair of strong, firm hands wrap around his waist, holding him still. When Porter lays him out, pins his wrists to the bed and conquers him, he doesn’t need to lie to himself.

there is a part of jace that likes not being so high strung! porter brings that out in him, teases out a humor, a lightness, an ease! hollows him out and fills him with feathers! he wants the persona to be real so badly, to actually be as Chill and Easy as porter thinks he is. he's able to lose himself in alcohol and sex and finally, genuinely relax by the end of this scene, but it's fleeting! he wants it to be real!

i won't lie here and say that i did this on purpose as foreshadowing for LSOP fic because this series is very much "whatever situation i can think to put jace in next" but in hindsight, this is like, very sad when you compare this jace to him in "his tomb by the sounding sea" who is dealing with the ramifications of actually being put in a place where he doesnt have to worry about being in control anymore.

and of course then we cut to:

Let it be known that he’s a complete idiot. A pretty face with nothing to back him up. And as of three days ago, even that’s up for debate.

jace POV for scene iv of "burn away the goodness, you and i remain" before he goes out and faces porter. he's been barely-conscious for three days and he's finally lucid enough to hate himself again!! yippee!! his lies have caught up with him and he's being punished for just how easily he caved to porter:

The problem is that he bought his own bullshit. He actually let himself believe he was the version of himself he invented for Porter: fun, easygoing, unchallenging and uncomplicated. Up for anything and everything, from petty theft to dangerous spellwork to erotic roleplay. He’d made sure any disagreements between them were reserved for the trivial, nothing that would ever get in the way of what Porter wanted or needed from him. Sanded down his edges, made himself the perfect partner and acolyte.

and the minute he disagreed with him, showed any sign of resistance, porter killed him over it and made sure that he wouldnt be able to do that again. this is the schrodinger's cat at he heart of starbreaker, to me: does porter care about jace, or was jace only a stepping stone in The Plan? how much of porter's care for him is an act/manipulation, and how much of it is genuine?

He’d forgotten love, for him, is always predicated on deception. If he was going to lie, he should have been prepared to keep it up forever.

jace genuinely believes this too </3 i dont think hes ever been genuine with anyone in his entire adult life, not since he learned that lying gets you what you want faster and easier and it only backfires when people find out

 He looks completely fucked and utterly unfuckable.   A chill runs through him when he remembers that it’s his own spellcraft that did this, ripped his control to shreds and gave the tattered pieces to someone else. Even now, he can feel an unfamiliar current of magic writhing beneath his skin, alive and with a mind of its own. The sensation turns his stomach, makes bile rise in his throat.

i think i'm like so preoccupied with "lack of control" being one of jace's worst fears because of how sorcerers are in rules-as-written d&d? like it's literally described as innate magic but idk man anything thats come innately to me has still always required me to hone whats already there with precision until it goes from good to really fucking good. also yay to jace selling a piece of himself to porter and for physical descriptions of magic, which i am also very preoccupied with.

He won’t let Porter see how much he’s falling apart.  If he pretends that he’s fine, then he is fine. He can still be everything Porter needs and wants, irreplaceable. He’s incredible at his job.

he's still fighting! he's so angry and spiteful in this, he can't even imagine letting the mask slip mere days after coming back to life. back to work, the show must go on! he's honestly mortified that there were three days where he didnt have the mask on. the performance is forever and it will take everything from him <3

[huginsmemory]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let's spread the self-love 💞

Omg thank you for the ask!!! 💕 Damn, I don't know which to really choose. I take so long to write anything that I find it hard to judge things; and especially as then years have gone by regarding my posted and finished fanfics it makes me difficult to choose. For fanfics I really have a bunch of fandoms I've periodically cobbled something together (as a result each fic rec is from a different show) and many I haven't read in years; but I've quite enjoyed the chance to go back and actually read them.

#1 - Blackbird series (Trigun (Trimax), Vashwood)

Ahhh this doesn't count as two right? It's my most recent work composed of Blackbird (M, 5.5k) and I'm no pale faced saint (E, 11k) both which I really enjoyed writing. Blackbird is vignettes of Vash and Wolfwoods relationship (if they were lovers) over the course of trimax. I'm no pale faced saint is a story tucked sometime within the same au when Wolfwoods and Vash are travelling, and during their stop Wolfwoods is asked to perform a funeral; later the two of them talk about promises in amongst foreshadowing of what will later occur and sexy times. It was also the first time I forayed into writing explicit fanfic which was certainly interesting and perhaps fun? Still not sure haha. Both are pretty bittersweet. Technically it's supposed to be a triptych, with a third and final installation which I've... not finished writing. Fingers crossed I'll get around to having some time to finish it eventually... It's all planned out so I just need to sit down and write the damned thing.

#2 - Tracing Ink on Skin (JJK, Satosugu, M, 34k)

A yakuza au fic that I'm still working on, that I originally started because there was none of those fics when the first season had come out. The premise is they were schoolmates, and lose touch after, Satoru the next in line for the head of one of the big Yakuza families, only to be reunited when Suguru finds Satoru bleeding out on his doorstep. I'm reccing it cause it's a bit newer. It's also my first long fic which is exciting but also haunts me a bit since it's also definitely not a priority, since I keep neglecting to write new chapters... shoves my 10 newer WIP fanfics into the drawer guiltily. Again I've got the whole thing planned out, I just need to actually write it. Also part of me wants to rewrite some areas, ack!

#3 - Chain Restaurants and the Beginnings of Friendship (Dorohedoro, Risu x Aikawa, T, 3.5k)

Also in the scheme of things newer... Premise is the two of them go for lunch right after Aikawa kills the teacher. I like this one with it's fun twist and actually intended it as a part of a series of short vignettes, as I had more ideas... as you can see I'm great at finishing things. I've heard there's supposed to be a second season of Dorohedoro coming out which might help kick me back into the mood. I really should trawl through my WIP files...

#4 - Warm Lights on Sleepless Nights. (Golden Kamuy, SugumotoxOgata, G, 3k)

Premise is it's a vignette of a modern au of Sugumoto essentially waking up from a nightmare, and remembering the time that Ogata was also awake at the same time before his betrayal, and the possible implications of that.

#5 - Antiform Haunting (Gotham, Edward Nygma x Oswald Cobblepot, T, 3k)

Premise is on some unseen scenes after Ed betrays Oswald, and dreams of him, leading up to the scene where Ed hallucinates Ed. I liked this one better then the other, softer fic I had written on the pair, which more people seemed to have enjoyed; how funny.

I'm ignoring how clearly all the pairs I write for are tragic character relationships (or perceived relationships lol) here. Nope, I don't know what you're talking about, I totally am not addicted to bittersweet or sad writing.

[amourcheol]

before i reblog, i want to give you ALL the flowers in the world. i just finished reading the monster of a fic called the great war and YOU HAVE DONE IT AGAIN. there are no words that can amount to how much i adore this fic. i love lengthy word counts done right (god knows how much long fics i got excited over before them being disappointing or boring as a reader) and i, most importantly, love enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, historical aus done right !!

lets get this out of the way first GRRR WOOF WOOF WOOF BARK SNARK GRERR RAHH HOWL BARK BARK WOOF WOOF WOOF GENERAL SEUNGCHEOL VICTOR OF VENICE I NEED ABYSMALLY.

okay. now that i can safely get that out of my system, LOVE LOVE LOVEEE everything about this fic. theres something so sweet abt men being written unrealistically (aka respectful and honorable whattt??? out of this world tbh) im joking ,, but i did absolutely love how you made cheol so strongly standing for his wife. the slow burn that really did the tag justice (it BURNT), the ENEMIES TO LOVERS DONE RIGHT!?! LIKE YESSS !!! they actually did want to kill each other and the yelling and arguing leading up to the first kissing scene CHEFS KISS like that's literally the epitome of writing, like is it really an e2l if there isn't a intensely written argument before the first sign of intimacy!?!?

throughout reading this story, all i could think abt was how could i ever put into the words the justice you served. allowing reader to be a strong character yet so eloquently bringing to light the struggles she would still face from just being a woman, to seungcheol using his power to stand FOR her. an honorary mention of the "Careful." he would reply to the Councillor after the panicking scene from the Florence mention INCREDIBLE!! it gave everything and more!! the character development from both sides, venus and mars foreshadowing, the subtleties that only slow burn could provide. i genuinely wish i could give a way better review than this but unfortunately im still speechless due to how beautiful this story was so just pls take this dreary review and understand that im so so in love and i adore you so much for the amount of work you put out into this, from the visuals and the descriptions, the perfect build up, the amazing writing of e2l and reflections– just EVERYTHING. you created a masterpiece <3

brb literally pulling my hair out till I got scraps left .

IMNSORRY ):£3!3!3 IM GONAN SVREAM SHIT CRY ?:£3!3!3 THIS IS THE SWEETEST THING EVER ):&:!3! 😭😭😭😭😭 First of all UR SO RIGHT … I never find huge fics anywhere and if I do they’re just …: YAWN ‼️‼️ I’m so glad u love those tropes they’re my BIGGEST guilty pleasures 😭 tho I can’t even lie I don’t feel guilty at ALL for historical! Aus

FUCKCJFKDDJD STOP I SVREAMED can u tell that cheol as a military general haunts me at night … I fear I am able to write another 40k for him ..: but ur so right tho my biggest biggest swoon moments come from men dying and sacrificing themselves for their lovers and I just !!! Seungcheol would absolutely die for his wife and this information jumps me in my sleep paralysis FR .. I’m so so happy u agree w me about the hatred I NEED HATRED FOR E2L OR ITS NOT E2L !! and PLS another guilty pleasure is screaming in each others faces before eating each other up … i will not be held accountable …

STOP I COULD CRY ??? thank u for appreciating the little bits of the fic 😭😭💖 that scene was incredibly hard to write and I’m glad people like it so much !! PLEASE DONT WVEN APOLOGISE ??? This is more than I could ever ask for you are truly so kind 😞💖💖 thank you for taking the time to read and send this unbelievably sweet message may or may not be thinking about this for the next 700 business days 😍😍💖

[sophie-avocado-girl]

MegaMan Fully Charged (My AU)

Part 1 “Big plans”

Author's note: Yeah, I did it... I DID IT!!!

Note before the part: Enjoy the first part of my fic... ;]

——————————

Another school day is began in Silicon City. Everything around is calm, nothing foreshadowed any troubles. Although the only thing that even slightly bothered the citizens of Silicon City, is that the number of crimes in the city is increasing and increasing. Just the other day, somehow managed to detain one of the known criminals of Silicon City whom everyone called The Fog Ghost. He made a real fog chaos in the bank, but why he needed it, he, of course, refused to explain. And that is why the citizens were wary. But in general, no one shows it.

Student Aki Light was walking quietly to school, and Chaotique decided to see him off. A couple in love sometimes looked at each other with a smile.

"Thank you for choosing to see me off, Kay-Kay" — Aki said smiling at his girlfriend — "But are you sure you won't be late for your school? You said your school is far away from here"

"Hah, forgot that it only takes me a couple of seconds to get to school from anywhere in the city? It's okay, you don't have to worry about me" — Chaotique replied, also smiling.

Aki let out a light chuckle at that. But then, for some reason, his expression slightly frowned. Kay-Kay noticed this and got a little worried.

"Is everything okay, Aki?" — She asked with a concerned look.

"Oh, yes, of course, I'm fine. It's just that there's so much going on lately. You know the crime rate is getting even higher than usual. I'm just, uh... A little stressed out about it all, as my whole family. But overall I'm fine." — The brown-haired boy explained, trying to keep a wide smile on his face.

Robotic girl with a bangs looked at him with sympathy, but still smiled slightly — "Oh, I understand... But I'm glad that you're all okay overall. I hope someday this all will end."

Both Aki and Chaotique were already approaching the school. There they met their friends, Chauncey and Rita.

"Hey Chauncey! Hey Rita!" — They spoke to the two of them in sync.

Both Chauncey and Rita greeted them back. Chauncey then turned back to Rita to continue their conversation.

"Well, Ree, good luck at school, as they say, study well, well, etc. But if someone offends you, then you immediately call me, they will find out what asphalt tastes like!" — The scissors robot said with confidence, placing his hands on Rita's shoulders.

The cross-eyed girl giggled at this. — "Oh Chauncey, I know you care a lot about me, but honestly, you don't have to worry so much about me. The only thing that can offend me are the walls and poles that for some reason constantly come across my way. But this is also my fault basically on my own, but never mind. Thank you for your support." — She said, smiling broadly at Chauncey. Chauncey smiled back at her.

Both hugged each other tightly. As soon as Rita turned around to go to the school, she crashed into a pole. As always.

"OUCH! Agh, who put up the poles here??" — She said a bit annoyed, but immediately calmed down and went to the school.

And Chauncey remained in place for a while, looking after Rita with a gentle smile. But then he felt someone next to him and turned around. He saw Iceman in front of him.

"Gah! Ice! Don't scare me like that again please!" — Exclaimed Chauncey, startled.

The white-blue robot chuckled at it and spoke in a bit sly tone. — "C'mon bro, already admit that you like Rita, I can see how you have become attached to each other lately!"

"No, it's not true! Rita and I are just best friends, nothing more!" — Cutman protested, blushing a bit.

"«Just best friends», of course I know that excuse... At first you say you're just friends, but in the end it turns out that you're in love with each other..." — Iceman replied slightly annoyed, but in a bit mocking tone.

Cutman and Iceman continued to argue for a little while, and at this time the couple in love, Aki and Chaotique, had already approached the school.

"Well Kay-Kay, see you after school?" — Aki asked, smiling at his girlfriend.

"You even asking, of course yes! And if you'll need any help, call me." — Chaotique replied, smiling back at her boyfriend.

They kissed each other on the cheek. Chaotique headed towards her school with her super speed, while Aki went to his school.

And all this time, none of the guys suspected that they were being followed. No one noticed the little drone that was flying over everyone and stalking someone.

...

"Well, great, it seems that everyone who is needed is in place..." — The tall bot in dark purple colors and luminous eyes said to himself. His name is Captain Darkshade. He was the one who's stalking our guys through the drone in his lair. — "Time to let the dark horse in... Mess!"

The robotic prankster girl, also known as a known criminal named Mess, flinched when she heard her name from her boss. She immediately walked over to him and stood up quietly.

"Yes, boss...?" — Mess said in a nervous voice.

Captain Darkshade turned to his henchwoman and spoke in a cold tone. — "You remember our plan, don’t you?..." — He asked, looking coldly into the young criminal's eyes.

The robotic criminal prankster girl swallowed nervously and replied. — "Y-yes, boss..."

"Great. Now go to school and do everything according to plan. And at least try not to disappoint me this time..." — The tall bot said in an even colder tone.

"Yes, boss...." — Mess replied timidly, looking at the floor a little sadly.

Mess ran from the lair to Aki's school with super speed, leaving Captain Darkshade and the rest of her allies in the lair.

Mess ran into the school and of course no one noticed her. She ran all over the school system setting up something, but what exactly is unknown, as it is part of her boss's plan.

When she was done, she ran to her locker and locked herself in to transform into her real form, under the name Melissa. She cautiously peeked out of the locker to make sure no one was watching her. Once out of the locker, she looked around again, just in case. She exhaled and took her bag from the locker. She took the powder and covered her scar on her eye with it.

Just then, a small robotic spider with a bandaged paw climbed onto Melissa's shoulder. He looked at Melissa and began to beep something in his own language. Melissa looked at him and, looking around again, answered quietly to him.

"Don't worry Lou, this time it will be all right, I'm sure of it. Now quickly hide in my bag." — Said robotic girl with dyed bangs to her little friend. Lou rolled his four eyes and jumped into Melissa's bag.

Melissa silently walked towards her classroom. There was only one thing in her thoughts - if only this plan would work.

The lesson has begun. Aki's class was in Hal's class. Everyone listened to the teacher's explanations and almost fell asleep. Only Bert listened with interest to Hal.

Suddenly, Aki began to have some strange forebodings. He seemed to suspect that something bad was about to happen. He began to look around suspiciously. The redhead cross-eyed girl noticed this and, in a whisper, spoke to Aki, but as always she doesn't said his name correctly. — "Are you okay, Kiko friend? Is something wrong?"

Aki jumped a little in surprise and, looking at his friend, let out a nervous chuckle. — "Oh, no no, I'm fine Rita, honestly. I just, uh... I just probably didn't get enough sleep, hehe... And please, remember finally, I'm Aki, not Kiko."

Rita, confused, blinked her eyes a couple times, but then she smiled slightly and didn't bother Aki anymore.

It would seem that everything is calm and nothing bad can happen. But suddenly there was a sound of an explosion. At first, everyone looked at each other, thinking that maybe it just seemed. But actually it is not. Another explosion sounded. Aki was the first to run out of the classroom and saw everyone running down the hallway towards the exit. He smelled burning, and then he heard someone in the crowd shouting "Fire! Everyone out!". Then Aki realized what had happened.

Aki's entire class also ran towards the exit. And Aki himself with his siblings ran to a secluded place to transform into Megaman, Namagem and Zero. The fire flare up more and more, the smoke gradually filled the school building.

"Everyone out! Quick, quick, quick!" — Megaman shouted, controlling with Namagem and Zero the crowd so that everyone could run out of the school at time.

A figure of a robotic girl appeared on the roof of the school. It was Mess who proud of herself watched over as the crowd scattered in fright in all directions. Now she has one step left - the battle with Megaman and his siblings. She believed that this time everything would work out.

"Alright, did everyone leave the building?" — Namagem asked, looking around the crowd.

"Hm... Wait, where's Rita?! Has anyone seen my foster sister?!" — Bert exclaimed, noticing that Rita was not among them all.

And at this time, Cutman and Iceman ran up to the school, noticing what was happening with their friends.

"Guys, how did this happened?! And where's Rita?!" — Cutman screamed in fright.

Everyone looked at each other. They understood that Rita had stay in the school.

"Oh no... I guess she's still in the school..." — Megaman said, also scared for his friend who still in the burning building.

"I'm going to save her!!" — Chauncey yelled with a fear and confidence. He began to walk towards the school, but Iceman stopped him by grabbed his arm.

"Chauncey, no! It's a dangerous!" — He said, scared for his brother.

Chauncey looked back at Iceman and, getting a bit angry, replied to him. — "I do not care if it's a dangerous or not, nothing can stop me if I should to save the one who I care about!!"

"Then I'll save Rita! She's my foster sister and I'm going to save her through thick and thin!" — Bert said to them, but he also was stopped by Ashley.

"Are you crazy or something?! You'll burn!" — Ashley said as she holds Bert's arm. Everyone's just being scared and doesn't know what to do. But our heroes team will deal with everything.

Mess was hiding in the bushes. She wore her glasses and neon circles around her arms and legs. She pointed her fist at Megaman, preparing to fire. But when she heard everyone talking about Rita, she paused.

"Rita...?" — She said quietly, getting also scared for her, so to say, friend.

And Blue Bomber said with a confident look to everyone. — "Don't worry guys we'll find her and save her before the firefighters arrive." — After those words he, Zero and Namagem ran to the doors of the school, but there was an explosion from which they were thrown back. Everyone else got terrified.

While this time, Mess was already inside of the burning school, looking for Rita. She looked at every corner, but Rita was nowhere. Robotic criminal prankster girl was already upset, until she heard the familiar voice from somewhere.

"P-please... Someone, help me..." — Rita was repeating every time in a hoarse voice, coughing as she was sitting on the floor near the lockers.

Mess came running to Rita's voice. She began to approach her, but the red-haired girl barely, but quickly got to her feet and began to resist.

"N-no, go away from me, criminal! Don't touch me! *coughing*" — Rita said, trying to protect herself.

"Hush, hush, I'm not going to hurt you, honestly. I want to help you." — Mess said to Rita, trying to calm her down.

"Why should I believe you?! You're a criminal! You hurting my friends! *coughing* I'm not going to accept a help from a criminal like you!" — The cross-eyed girl was still resisting. She does not hate Mess, she's afraid of her.

Mess understood that Rita doesn't trust her, but she took a deep breath and tried to approach her again. — "Listen, I understand you don't believe me and despising me, but please, let me help you or else you'll burn!" — Robotic girl on rollers said in a calm voice, still trying to reassuring Rita. She stretched her hand to Rita and said. — "Please, just let me help you."

Rita could not understand why the criminal was trying to help her, but due to the situation she was in, she still took Mess's hand. — "Okay, I accept your help... *coughing*"

Mess placed Rita on her back. With her super speed, she began to make her way to the exit, but he was filled up. Worried, she began to look for an emergency exit, and literally a second before he was also filled up, Mess managed to get out.

Trying to catch her breath, Mess put a slightly weakened Rita on the ground. — "Hey, how are you? Are you okay?" — she asked, putting her hand on Rita's shoulder. Although she was well aware that Rita, in any case, had already inhaled smoke and this was not very good.

"*coughing* Yes, I'm fine... Thank you." — Rita answered as she looked at Mess with a slight but thankful smile.

Mess smirked a bit at it. Then she hid in the bushes again since she's still need to fire at her enemies.

By that time, firefighters had already arrived and were putting out the fire.

"We don't know how it happened, but we'll find out. Something tells me it wasn't accidental at all. It's like someone did something on purpose to start a fire." — Namagem said to the main firefighter, suspecting that everything really happened not incidentally.

Meanwhile, Rita approached everyone, covered in dirt and dust. When the guys saw her, everyone was very surprised how she managed to escape, but at the same time everyone was very happy that she was safe. All of Rita's friends rushed to hug her tightly. Three children of superheroes approached this scene.

Megaman, confused, asked Rita — "Honestly, I'm glad you're okay, but I don't understand... How did you escape?"

Rita looked at him and, with the suggestion that no one would believe her, replied — "You won't believe me, but... Mess saved me!"

Everyone, having heard Rita's words, began to blink their eyes in surprise.

"What?! But- It's impossible! That narcissistic egotist is not capable of such a thing!" — Zero exclaimed, annoyed and angry at it. She's definitely doesn't believe in it.

Rita wanted to start proving the truth, but suddenly Megaman got shot at his back. Everyone was shocked and fled in fright in different directions, and only our heroes remained.

Megaman stood up at his feet and got mad. — "Who did this?!" — He exclaimed.

"It's was me!" — Mess said as she appeared in front of their faces with a smug smirk.

"Agh, she's here again." — Zero got annoyed by Mess's another appearance.

Megaman looked at Mess with a mix of annoyance and anger. — "I see you want a fight again, Menace on rollers?" — He said as he pointed his buster towards her.

Mess looked at all three heroes. She grinned and said with a confident and smug look. "Hah, try to catch me first." — And after that, she ran away with a super speed.

The Light siblings heroes began to chasing her and using their weapons, but Mess managed to dodge all the time.

Zero angrily swung her saber at the robotic criminal girl with all her might, but Mess fired a neon circle at Zero, causing Zero to be thrown aside. Then Megaman began to use Elecman schematics and shot at Mess, but the criminal girl dodged and hit Blue Bomber at his stomach, also throwing him aside. Namagem got mad and wanted to take a revenge for his siblings and already wanted to shoot at Mess, but she began to speak to him.

"You know what, Nam, I could spare you, you're an interesting and hilarious guy, but you make the mistake of messing around with these guys. Wouldn't you like to have some fun and take a break from these superhero duties?" — Mess said, looking at Namagem with a slight smirk.

Namagem got confused by Mess's words. But after a few seconds, he come back to his senses and answered. — "Do not try to fool me, vandal, I'm not gonna to listen to your tricks!"

Mess's slight smirk fade away. — "Oh. How pity. I thought you were smarter." — After those words, she began to attack Namagem with her shooting neon circles.

Namagem began to attack Mess back. Once Megaman and Zero came to their senses, they also started attacking Mess along with their brother. Surprisingly, Mess handled the heroes better than usual. She now dodges more and deals more damage than usual. This is very alarming for our guys. But the Light siblings did not give up and continued to fight, but the energies were already running out.

Mess noticed that her enemies getting weaker. She grinned evilly at it and continued to attack them. But after some time of fight, she suddenly got a signal. It's was a signal from her boss's lair. Mess didn't wanted to leave this sweet battle, but she couldn't disobey Captain Darkshade. She sighed and, with all her might, shot at the ground in front of three superheroes that everything around was shrouded in dust.

Megaman, Zero and Namagem began to coughing and, when the dust cleared, they noticed that Mess was no longer there. They began to looking around, but there is no trace left of Mess.

"Where did she go?!" — Zero exclaimed, still wanting to finish this criminal.

"Calm down sis, she's gone already. But it's weird that she just left the fight without a reason. What's wrong with her lately? But of course she will back soon... But anyway, everyone's safe now." — Megaman said to his sister with a sigh.

And Namagem was in confusion. He tried to understand why did Mess was talking to him like that, but nothing came to his mind.

The Light siblings are very tired after this fight. Mess fought much harder than usual. What happened to her is unclear.

After the fire, the school had to be refurbished.

...

The next day, the Light kids were walking and discussing what happened yesterday. Chaotique walked with them. She was kinda shocked as she listened to Aki as he recounted what had happened.

"Oh my... I see you had to spend a lot of energy... Mess as always in her repertoire." — Kay-Kay said to Aki, feeling annoyed knowing that Mess again with her tricks.

"Yes... But this time, she fought much harder than usual. This time she deals even more damage. It's kinda strange... We always spent a lot of energy on her, but this time she literally almost knocked us down." — Aki answered to her, feeling that this is weird how much stronger Mess become.

"... Oh... It's unexpected..." — Chaotique said at it as she also felt confused.

All the four kids are continued to discussing about this «Menace on rollers» and a little bit about other members of a criminal group.

...

At Captain Darkshade's lair, Mess stood in front of her boss with a serious expression.

Darkshade spoke to her in a less cold tone, almost proud. — "Mess, you did a good job in fighting these children, there is a result, I see this time everything turned out much better than usual. Congratulations. It seems that it was not in vain that I gave you all these serious trainings during these days..."

Mess sighed quietly in relief. She didn't show it, but inside she felt proud because her boss had never praised her like that before. It can be said that he never praised her at all.

"But boss, let me just ask you just one single question... Why do we always leave the battlefield in the middle of a battle? When we can finally finish off these superhero kids!" — Clawswoman spoke up, not understanding why their boss was constantly calling them in the middle of battles.

"Yes boss, why do we have to interrupt the battle right in the middle of it?" — Fogman also said agreeing with Clawswoman. Lou the robotic spider nodded in agreement.

Captain Darkshade looked at the three of them with a slight anger and annoyance.

"I'm the one asking the questions here, in case you forgot. But this time I'll make an exception... With each battle, these superhero kids get more tired, which means they become weaker. And the weaker they get, the more likely they are to be defeated. Very soon we let's finish with their whole family and nothing and no one can stop us! And from tomorrow, we will start preparing hard for this..." — He explained with a sense of self-confidence and a feeling of power.

After these words, he turned to the screens and quietly said to himself. — "Soon all the power will belong to me. And he will realize how wrong he was about me... *evil laughter*"

...

To be continued...

——————————

Note after the part: Alrightttttt here's the first part is done👏🏻 To be honest, something tells me that you didn’t expect the actions in fanfiction will begin from those moments :') But it doesn't matter. I know that it probably didn't work out very well, I'm not very good at fanfiction, so there may be some mistakes. But I hope you enjoyed it ^^

Write your suggestions and guesses on this part👀✨

Have a good day or night! ☀️🌙💚✨💜

[yourlocalartsonist]

ROTTMNT Moths Fly In Packs - Chapter Four

A/N: Hello I have returned with yet another chapter for y'all to feed on! I am lowkey so happy the fanfic's going on for so long cuz I have a history of abandoning projects after like the third chapter, so clearly tis a sign I might actually keep this fic long running for years and years to come :D I know I have a lot of ideas for it so I'm def taking a few years on this one but oh well I'm having fun. Hope you guys like this one, tidepod duo is one of my favs and I got to implement some of my own lore bits here and there and foreshadow certain things... Also can y'all believe the Hidden City Zoo was mentioned in one of the episodes but we never got to actually see it like fuck u Nickelodeon, now I'm forced to write a self-indulgent fanfic so my brain can finally rest >:( But yee tell me your fav parts if y'all feel like it <3

Also! Credit to: @sweaterrat for being my beloved beta reader, and my irl friend "The Leo Hater Reading a Leo Fanfic" for inspiring some quotes~

*Phuphu means "paternal aunt" in Bangla

Next Chapter

Previous Chapter

Chapter One

Disclaimer: Chapter involves themes of abusive family, mention of death, violence, and curse words. If you're sensitive to that stuff, scroll past and stay safe!

“Remember we’ll be back by nine, this place better be spotless or you’re staying up and making sure it is!”

“I know Phuphu*, I’ve got it. You and Meeta just enjoy your day.”

My aunt called for her daughter who was still at the mirror adjusting how she looked, smoothening out her patterned gold dress and putting any flyaway strands back in place. They were both going to a birthday party for one of my aunt’s friend’s sister’s brother-in-law’s son and, as usual, I wasn’t invited. Instead, I got tasked with keeping the apartment in check while they’re gone in case there’s an explosion or something. They never give me a better reason. 

“Hurry up child, we’re going to be late!”

“Mommy you’re the one who always says beauty takes time.” 

Meeta took one last look in the mirror and joined her mom at the door.

“Well, don’t you look stunning!”

“Um, of course I do? Have I ever not looked perfect?” There it is, my ever so humble cousin. I mean don’t get me wrong I admire her confidence, just crosses a line when she starts putting others down for not looking as good as her. And by others I mostly mean me.

But regardless, it was true. Meeta did look stunning all day everyday. She’s only fifteen but still considered the beauty of our family, especially to our relatives outside America. Tall, dark eyes, milky skin. Shiny black hair done up in a tight bun. Meeta takes great care to always look picture perfect.

I waved goodbye as they left for the party. It did feel a little bad, never getting to tag along and join them anywhere. But then again, eight years of technically being in debt to my aunt didn’t exactly leave any respect for me so parties are the least of my concerns. She acts as if not yelling at me for one minute would end with tragedy just because she’s letting me stay here for free. My only form of compensation: taking care of the house. Cleaning, shopping, running errands, all that jazz. It’s either that or a job so I chose household chores, it’s got more perks.

Like getting to choose my own schedule! As always, I was told ahead of time that they’d be out today so while my aunt and Meeta were sleeping last night, I got the majority of the cleaning done (with the exception of their rooms, of course). I asked Jaiden if we could hang out today and miraculously they agreed so I had to make sure today's cleaning would take no more than an hour, even if that sacrificed a little bit of sleep yesterday. All I’ve gotta do now is just some light sweeping. Totally worth it in my opinion.

Soon after I was done, I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket and saw it was a call from Jaiden. Fumbling with the buttons I eventually managed to answer.

“Jaiden? Are you out already? Give me like ten minutes I’ll-”

“I can’t make it.”

Wait, what? “Wh-what do you mean?”

“I can’t make it today, something came up. I just wanted to quickly call you and let you know.”

Beep!

They hung up.

My heart sank thinking about their words. Something came up? I’ve been so excited to hang out with Jaiden all day and now something came up? We already haven’t spent much time together lately. They don’t talk as much at school and stopped responding to my texts. I got worried I did something wrong but every time I’d gain the courage to ask they’d just say they were low on energy and I’d accept that answer because what else could I do? After all of this time of practically begging them, I finally got them to agree on making plans in hopes we could talk and now today of all days something just happened to come up? 

I sighed and quickly returned to rationality. It must be a last minute situation, I mean they barely even called for a minute. Probably something important or maybe a parent randomly said no. Jaiden did say their parents are a bit flip-floppy. Either way, no point in getting mad at Jaiden, it’s not in their control. I begrudgingly shoved my phone back in my pocket and paced around the house trying to entertain myself. I’ve already cleaned every nook and cranny I could bullshit into justifying as a mess so that’s not an option. I don’t really have any inspiration to work on my art or writing either. 

I went into my room and flopped on the bed. 

Ugh, this sucks! It’s only three pm, I still have so many hours to kill. Maybe I should just take a nap. 

Before I could try to doze off to dreamland, a sound forced my eyes back open.

A knock? At my window?

But when I stuck my head outside no one was there. So either the wind was being a little bitch or I’m so depressed I’m hallucinating. I groaned and was about to go back to bed but, the very second I turned my back, two voices shouted in unison before I got tackled to the ground. 

“Surprise attack!”

My poor back stung against the hard floor as the two mutant idiots curled around me. 

“Leo, Mikey! I missed you guys! But, um, I do still need to breathe.” 

We sat up, still on the floor and my soul eventually returned to my body. 

Mikey flashed a vibrant grin “So, whatcha doing? Any plans or are you free today!? Please say you’re free!”

“Oh, I am now, I guess. I was supposed to hang out with a friend but they canceled last minute so my day just about cleared up.”

“Aww sorry to hear that Salena.” And he’s back to hugging. I’d be more annoyed if Mikey didn’t give such great hugs, he’s as soft as a sponge. “But, on the bright side, that means you can come hang out with us now! Leo and I were planning on going to a zoo and-”

“A ZOO!?” 

Am I dreaming because holy daze it feels like I am! I could barely contain my giddy giggles the entire walk over. 

“I’ve always wanted to go to a zoo literally my entire life! Getting up close and personal with all the amazing different animals! I mean don’t get me wrong, books are great but it’d be so different to see one in person! I feel like I’d get carried away and go inside the enclosure, though, but that’s fine! Just the usual intrusive thoughts and stuff!” 

“Hey Salena, love the enthusiasm and it’s really great to see you so happy but, maybe you should save your energy for when we actually get there?”

“Sorry! I’m just so excited!”

“Yeah, I had a feeling you’d enjoy this.” He smiled and turned back to Mikey. “Hey Angelo, we there yet?”

“Yepperoni! Just give it a sec and let the Master of Mystic Arts do his thing.” Mystic arts?

He held out his hands and they started glowing. Contrasting with the neon blue I’m used to seeing, a portal opened up in sunset colors. 

“Guys, am I missing something? Why are we opening a portal?” I glanced over at Leo for some answers only to be met by his stupid amused smirk.

“So, we may have hidden a tiny little detail about this zoo trip.”

“Damn, you don’t say?” 

Mikey, the only thing between me and the glowing mystery hole, stepped off to the side. “We weren’t just gonna go to any regular zoo. We’re going to the Hidden City Zoo!”

Hidden City? Oh wait, that’s the place Raph talked about, the reason why there were so many Yōkai near my house! This is probably one of the gateways to it? I leaned in a bit closer, a little more cautious than usual. It sounded thrilling to explore the Hidden City but a zoo? What kind of animals could a mutant zoo have? 

“Um, we’re not gonna get immediately mauled death by some crazy rabid mutant lion or something, right?”

“Dunno. Only one way to find out!”

“What.”

The blue bastard pushed me through without hesitation as my poor knees made contact with the hard, rocky surface on the other side. I thought of letting my violent desires get the better of me for a minute. Until... 

The new world in front of me left me starstruck.

The sky painted in various hues of pink and gold, an enormous entrance built on seafoam-colored stone displaying the words Hidden City Zoo. Peeking inside it only got better, the place was littered with wild and wacky creatures I’ve never even dreamed could exist! And in the distance, I think I can make out a rollercoaster?

It seems like Mikey’s in just as much awe as I am “Omigosh look at how big it is! And it has an amusement park nearby? This place is even cooler than I thought!”

“Dudes, what’d I tell you, this was totally a great idea! Ugh, I should’ve gone here last time instead of that stupid spa.”

“Why didn’t you just go after the spa?”

“Oh cause we all got thrown in jail. A dumb bird and an evil wig framed me for theft so that kinda took up the whole day.”

“But Dad and I bailed them out and saved the day! Who’s the best turtle now Leon~” 

A giggle escaped my lips “The fact that I’m not even surprised. Now c’mon, enough blabbering, we gotta go explore!” 

A mutant zoo is somehow exactly what I expected it to be but also completely different at the same time. Most of these guys look like regular animals, just bigger and louder. But a few others actually reminded me of more traditional Yōkai I saw in a book about Japanese folklore. I remember Mom used to hate how interested I was in it, which was pretty strange since she herself was Japanese. That was the only thing I ever knew of her heritage. She kept trying to tell me Yōkai knowledge was useless and I’d have way more fun learning about real animals instead. Unfortunately for her, my curiosity was not one to be quenched so I simply ended up learning about both. 

I looked at one of the bear Yōkai, they’re called onikuma I think. We made eye contact and either I need to get my vision checked or it just smiled at me. Weren’t these supposed to be wild animals? Come to think of it actually, the more Yōkai-looking creatures resembled the mutants outside the zoo enclosures more than the ones inside. You know, the guys walking around on two feet wearing clothes and taking pictures on their phones the same way we were and are very obviously not wild animals. 

“Whatcha writing, Salena?” the tangerine looked over my shoulder while I was typing on my notes app.

“Oh, just trying to learn a bit more about these guys. I don’t know why but something just feels-” 

Before I could finish my sentence, my stomach chose violence sending a sharp pain through my body as it rumbled louder than a whale call. 

“Oh yeah, I forgot to eat today.”

“You do that too?”

Mikey let out a dramatically loud gasp “What is wrong with y’all? How can anyone forget to eat? We’re getting food right now.”

“Chillax Mikey, I’ll be fine! We can wait a little-”

“Don’t make me go Doctor Delicate Touch on you.”

“N-Nevermind.”

We were unwillingly dragged by the terrifying midget to a food booth nearby. I mean, it’s not too bad honestly, the food in the Hidden City is way better than in New York. We got a super delicious burger packed with juicy meat, creamy cheese, tomatoes that actually taste like something, and… worm fries. I avoided that last delicacy but Leo seemed to enjoy it. Mikey on the other hand wrote down every tiny detail while rambling to himself the whole time. 

“Don’t mind him, Mikey loves to cook. Sometimes he tries remaking recipes of any food we liked outside.”

“Ahem, I don’t just recreate them, I improve them!”  

I looked at the giant burger in my hands amazed at Mikey’s confidence. “You want to improve this? This is literally the best burger I’ve ever had in my life! How could you top this?”

“Yeah, Miguel, you sure you’re good enough for this one?” He glared as Leo playfully stuck out his tongue. 

“You’ll just have to wait and be impressed! But on another note, how’re you doing Salena? Enjoying the day so far?”

“Enjoying doesn’t even begin to describe it! Everything is so cool here! I’ve always wanted to go to a zoo like this. I bugged my parents about it a lot when I was younger but we never had enough money for the tickets and stuff. They promised they’d take me one day but…” They died before they could. 

I never realized how I completely forgot about that. Life got so busy that getting upset over zoos seemed too silly to do anymore.

I snapped back to reality feeling the boys’ eyes on me.

“Sorry, sorry! I didn’t mean to ruin the mood-”

They hugged me. 

“It’s a good thing we took you here then!”

“Yeah, consider it a thank you gift for Mr. and Mrs. Moni.”

This feels… warm. And familiar? It’s a hug. I’ve hugged plenty of people. But those hugs felt different. I feel so small right now and that’s strangely a good thing. Everything is warm and cozy and a little dreamy. 

I think the last time a hug felt like this was when my parents were still here.

The rest of the day went by delightfully. We took a stupid amount of pictures - mostly because Leo wanted to boast to Raph and Donnie later - and Mikey even dragged us on to a few of the rides at the amusement park. The mood felt a little softer than before. I’m not entirely used to it but I honestly don’t mind.

But as usual, the pleasantly chill vibe can never last for too long. A loud crash grabbed our attention towards one of the exhibits where a bunch of employees were scrambling around with cages in their arms. Mikey managed to stop one of them mid-panic to ask what’s going on.

“Something broke the glass and now they all escaped!”

I caught Leo inspecting the broken glass. Following his eyes, they landed on what seemed to be a giant crab claw. He quickly noticed the two culprits in the distance frolicking around in acrobat uniforms and groaned. “Ugh, I think I know who that something was.”

“Who are those guys?”

“The Sando brothers. We just can’t enjoy a single day of peace can we?” Mikey grit his teeth with a murderous glint in his eyes. Like I said, soft as a sponge. Just when he’s mad, he’s as soft as a sponge left out too long without water.

The employee was focused more on the escaped critters and rushed off before we could ask anything else. “They’ll wreck everything! We need to catch them before they wreck everything!”

“Hey wait! What animal got loose!?”

I squinted at the label trying to read the small text, immediately filled with dread now understanding everyone’s panic. One of the raccoon-sized demons hissed to my right, preparing to pounce.

“Uh, guys? This was a shrew enclosure!”

“A what enclosure?”

“Duck!” 

“Wha- GAH!” It would seem I managed to avoid it at the expense of traumatizing the blueberry. “GET IT OFF ME! GET IT OFF ME!”

Mikey kicked the shrew off revealing poor Leo’s scratched up and terrified face. “Why are they so violent!?”

“They’re shrews, that’s their job! But they’re usually no bigger than a human palm, I can’t believe ooze could supersize them that much.” I quickly wrote down the new info on my phone as Mikey helped Leo up.

“Leo, what’s the plan?”

He looked at the crabs while dusting himself off “We should probably take care of the circus clowns before they destroy anything else. What do ya say, Angelo? Think you can keep up with professional acrobats?”

“You know I can! Cowabunga!”

“Wait! What do I do?” 

“Oh, Mikey and I can take care of this. You don’t wanna just lay low till we’re back?”

“And let you two hog all the fun? I thought you knew me better than that.”

He softly chuckled “Right, adrenaline junkie, how could I forget?” He looked at the several mutant shrews raging havoc all over the place “Well, we could use someone to help catch the… shrews right? You seem to know a bunch about them. Maybe you could help make sure they don’t destroy the whole place.”

My eyes lit up “You got it chief!” 

“If you need any help, holler!” 

I went over to the employees. Some of them were still trying to capture the tiny devils while a few others were getting a mystic wall ready where the glass broke, I’m assuming to temporarily keep them in. I’ll need a plan to get all the shrews in there. Mindlessly chasing around already proved to be a fail. 

I know I definitely read about this before. Shrews are carnivorous, they like eating things like snails and slugs but those were the regular-sized shrews. What could I feed these giants?

Think, think, think. There’s gotta be something around here I can bait them with…

“Wait! The burgers! Of course!”

I bolted inside a kitchen and scanned around for any giant clumps of meat.

“Hey, kid! Who are you, what are you even doing here?” 

“Sorry, I’m in a hurry. Shrew problems.” 

“What?”

I looked past the confused guy and saw what I was looking for. Shoving down my guilt, I grabbed a bunch of bacon patties and ran out the kitchen. 

“Hey!”

“I’m sorry, it’s a necessary sacrifice!”

Back outside, I found a shrew and waved one of the patties, catching its attention. 

“Over here, buddy!” Usually, thin bacon strips would be enough to lure them but I figured giant meat circles were more appropriate for these guys.

Once I got it close enough to the enclosure, I threw the patty in letting the shrew jump after it, getting trapped behind the transparent magic wall. One by one, all the menace mice were eventually recaptured. Not gonna lie, I’m still a little surprised it actually worked. 

“Salena, look out!” 

I dodged to Mikey’s instruction just in time for another giant crab claw to fly bullet-speed past me getting absorbed into the wall. It would seem mystic glass can’t really be broken, good thing too since the shrews escaping again would’ve broken my will to live alongside it. 

Unfortunately, I spent too long collecting myself and got snatched up by the back of my shirt, now facing the presumed Sando brothers.

“Look Carl, it’s the gross little human that keeps ruining our plan!” 

“Ha! Look at it swing!”

“Put me down you bald red freak!”

He suddenly looked at me in pain as if my dream of breaking his dumb claws open had actually come true “B-bald?..”

“Did you just call my brother bald!?”

“I can’t believe that’s the part you’re focused on.”

“I… I used to be so beautiful with my luscious long locks before I got turned into this! You still got to keep your hair, why was life so cruel to me!?” The red nuisance began pouring a waterfall of tears.

“See what you did!? Now you made him cry! Hey, it’s alright Ben, that human doesn’t know beauty when they see it.” Are you serious.

“You’re right! We should do something awful to it! Something that’ll make them regret calling me bald!”

“Yeah like!.. Like…”

“Ooh, I know! We should eat it!” 

“DUDE! Why is that the first thing you think of!?”

A familiar taunting voice joined in the conversation “Lame! You guys are so awful at plans, no wonder you got outsmarted by a regular ol’ human!” I’d be offended if I wasn’t preoccupied with my confusion. 

“Excuse me!? Did you just call my brother lame!?”

“Why does the universe hate me today!?”

“I’d like to see you idiots do any better!”

“Oh-ho we could do so much better, right Mikey?”

“What are you guys-”

“Duh! I mean there are rollercoasters everywhere and they didn’t even realize higher ground would speed things up by a trillion.”

HUH!? “No no no no no no! We do not need to go higher ground!”

“Hey come to think of it, Mike, dropping someone from a high place is a pretty heinous thing to do, too. Way worse than eating them.”

“OH YOU TWO ARE SO DEAD IF I’M NOT!”

“Ben, they actually have a point.”

“Y-yeah they kinda do… Welp doesn’t matter if we take credit for it, anyway! See ya later, jerks!”

They jumped onto the coaster as I helplessly awaited my fate, praying the dumbass turtles had some sort of plan and didn’t just use me as live bait for the crab monsters. 

“Look down at your death tiny pest! I bet it’d take you days just to finally hit the ground!”

“Woah, you really think we’re that high up, Ben?”

“Yeah! Or actually, no not really, I think it’ll only take like a minute or something.”

“Really? That doesn’t sound as cool. Should we go higher ground-”

“UGH! Why does it matter, I’m dead either way you buffoons!”

“Oh yeah, good point.” He let go of me and off I was screaming as I fall to my doom.

But just above me, a pair of chains wrapped around the rollercoaster and snapped it like a stick, sending idiot crab men falling down with me. Still in shock, I didn’t notice the blue katana fly by, teleporting a smirking turtle just in time to catch me. 

“Leo?”

“Missed me?~” He drew his blade mid-air and opened a portal landing us to safety. 

“You didn’t think we actually ditched you, did you?”

“Aha, I was starting to…”

I looked past his shoulder towards the sound of Mikey’s hyper yelps.

“It’s mystic time, baby!” I gawked as the orange portal, just like the one from earlier today, opened up swallowing the terrified acrobats and sending them to who knows where. 

“Mikey can open portals, too!?”

“Don’t tell me you thought there was a gateway to the Hidden City directly outside the zoo.”

“Actually, yeah I kinda did.”

Mikey walked over pressing against the glass wall between us. Wait, glass? Where even are we?

“Leo, Salena! Are you guys okay?”

“Don’t worry, little brother, we’re perfectly fine. We just gotta get out here.”

“Uh…L-Leo!” He followed my frightened gaze to the giant mutant bullfrogs behind us. 

“So that’s what the glass was for.”

“RUN!”

I grabbed his hand and started sprinting away from the green enemy, making sure to dodge the enormous pink tongue currently hunting us.

“You know, for someone who supposedly failed gym, you’re pretty light on your feet.”

I furrowed my brows, more towards his accusation than his inappropriately relaxed smirk “I did fail gym! You’re just lucky dodgeball’s the only sport I’m good at.”

We hid behind a nearby rock, gasping and trying to catch our breaths.

“Man, of all the places you could’ve picked, why’d you portal us here?”

“Hey, it’s not like I meant to! My portals mess up when I panic.”

“You were panicking?”

He looked just as surprised as I did “Ah-”

“Guys! Are you dead?!” his comms let out Mikey’s panicked voice.

“We’re okay, Mikey. Just resting for a bit.”

“Oh good. Cause uh, THE COPS ARE HERE! WE’VE GOTTA MOVE!”

“The cops? Eugh boy.”

“Wait why is that a bad thing? Does the Hidden City not have Good Samaritan laws or something?”

He laughed and rubbed the back of his neck “So uh, remember the whole ‘us getting thrown into jail’ thing? Yeah, we may or may not still be wanted criminals for that whole shebang.”

“You said you got bailed out!”

“I never said legally!”

“Oh my god.”

He peeked from behind the rock, making eye contact with Mikey still waiting for us outside the enclosure.

“Okay, I’ve got an idea but we’ve gotta make a run for it. You ready to leave the zoo?”

“Yeah, I think I’ve had enough mutant mayhem for one day.”

We raced past the mutant frog. Leo swung his sword one last time, creating a portal, and shoved it so it reached both sides of the glass barrier. The three of us dove in as it closed behind, falling back to a soft carpeted floor. 

I rubbed my head and looked around “My room… M-My room! Omigosh we made it guys, we’re alive!” 

Mikey and Leo were a little less celebratory than I thought they’d be. 

“Sorry for dragging you into a fight, Salena. Again. Man, that’s the second time that’s happened. Which, I guess it isn’t a lot, but still weird it happened twice.”

“Ugh, this was supposed to be a fun, relaxing trip to the zoo. I can’t believe those stupid crab jerks showed up and ruined it.”

I had no idea they’d be so dejected over this. 

“Who said anything about ruined?” They looked at me puzzled by my unfazed smile.

“Did you hit your head or something? We should check for injuries. Leo-”

“No, guys, I’m fine! Really!”

“You almost died twice today and you think that wouldn’t ruin anything?”

“Okay, yeah, that would’ve been inconvenient if I did, but I didn’t! I mean, come on! Think about literally everything else that happened! My first ever zoo and we just so happened to save it from disaster that exact same day? Guys, this was amazing!” I let myself breathe a bit, feeling the adrenaline calm down. “Life’s been so much better ever since I met you.”

Leo stared at me silently while Mikey caved into his emotions. “That’s it, I can’t take it anymore! Group hug!” 

The teary tangerine pulled us in. For a while, we all stayed like that, cuddled on the floor. Warm, cozy, and comfortable. As weirdly thrilling as the danger was, I think the hugs were still my favorite part about today. 

I would’ve loved to just enjoy it a bit longer but my phone alarm rang, the one I always set to be an hour before my oh so beloved family returned.

“You better go. I don’t think my aunt would be very happy with two random turtles in my room.”

After our goodbyes, I happily jumped into bed ready for some quiet downtime. I guess even though I didn’t get to hang out with the person I initially planned to, today might have turned out better this way. I opened up Instagram and started scrolling and catching up on everything else in the world. A YouTuber posted a new video, a couple and their cat went on vacation, an artist opened up commissions. All in all, seemed to be a pleasant day for everyone else, too. 

My thumb paused. A new post from Zane. They were pictures from a party he went to today, seemed like he had fun.

I got to the last picture on his post. My eyes went wide, staying glued to the person next to him. Heavy eyes. Dark hair straightened into a ponytail.

I felt my stomach doing flips realizing who it was. 

“Jaiden?”

Next Chapter

[sunnyrosewritesstuff]

The Marali Festival Commentary Part 2

Alright, the next 3 chapters! Honestly, I think it’s fair to say these might be my favorite 3 chapters... 👀 But more on that below!

**SPOILERS FOR THIS FIC BELOW**

Chapter 4- Hug

Dwalin took his place next to Thorin, silently holding the same position as the king.

“I have a plan.” He finally explained.

Dwalin chuckled. “I would hope so. Mahal knows we’ve all been waiting for one of you to do something.”

This was supposed to make people still think that Thorin wrote the note, but I don’t think any of my readers were actually buying it.😂

Thorin had already been placed in the first position and was almost pleading with Mahal for who would be number sixteen. His prayers were answered and he met Heor’s glare with a challenging grin.

Let’s call this chapter the “what-if Thorin got to fight Heor in Guardian of Kings instead”. I don’t think it was nearly as good a battle scene as it was with Bilbo, but I had more time to work with on GOK. 

Thorin immediately took to the center ring as soon as he was summoned. His head held high and his shoulders pulled back. Heor met him stride for stride.

“Been awhile, Thorin.” He smirked.

The disrespect.😒 You know, with this particular OC, he was always supposed to come off as ‘the asshole’ but not necessarily the villain. That definitely didn’t happen in this fic. 

“Heard that before. Although that is a lovely trinket. Did you get that from your hobbit courtesan?”

Thorin’s nostrils flared, and he had Heor shoved three feet away before he even had time to think.

The lesson here: don’t call Bilbo a whore to Thorin’s face.

The blade cut straight up his sternum (would have sliced open his neck) had the chain carrying the acorn button not snagged it. The metal snapped, Thorin hit the dirt, and there was a plethora of guards restraining Heor. Dwalin at the forefront. Thorin lay there as blood ran down his chest in amazement that once again, the hobbit had inadvertently saved his life.

I liked the symbolism here of the ‘acorn’ always saving Thorin and him tying that directly with Bilbo. It was just a nice little parallel.

Something in the hobbit suddenly snapped, and before Thorin knew it, he had Bilbo pressed tightly against him, sobbing into his chest, his arms encircling as much of his body as he could. Thorin felt pained at the memories that still haunted his hobbit, but he returned the hug as best as he could murmuring softly all the way.

“It’s okay. I’m okay. Everything is fine.”

If I remember correctly (this was a year ago after all), I think my initial plan had this hug being a lot more light-hearted, but the moment I brought Heor into it I was like WAIT I CAN MAKE THIS HURT. Did I have a plan to explain how exactly Thorin survived BOTFA? Not exactly.😆 Everyone just got to use their imaginations as I referenced it.

Chapter 5- Harmless Flirting

I feel like I should preface this chapter by saying as someone who is a terrible flirt, I really worried about this prompt...

When asked why the king himself did not choose to show off the merit of his skill, Thorin became surprisingly tight-lipped.

FORESHADOWING! 👀 I either already had @stardryad-random​‘s commission at this point, or she had sent me updates so I was pretty sold on the metallic bouquet at the end.😂

“How about you try and guess. If hobbits had a seven day passion festival, what would we feature?”

Thorin smirked at the challenge. “And what do I get if I win?”

“Whatever you want.” Bilbo breathed almost before his mind could catch up.

Does this count as flirting? Because I’m not so sure it’s harmless at this point.😆

“That’s six.” Bilbo agreed.

They walked in silence for a while. Thorin clearly lost in thought while Bilbo pretended to be impressed by a particularly hefty stone-hewed bookshelf they passed.

Writer Thoughts: What in the hell can be a seventh hobbit ‘passion’? Think, Sunny, think...

“You’re right that dwarves take their crafts to a much more serious level than any hobbit, but if you’ve ever been to a harvest festival…there are contests for nearly everything! Sure the farmers are showing off their prized vegetables and livestock. But oh, there’s so many different contests just for eating! Pie-eating contests, pudding, fudge…and of course lots of games and activities for the faunts. My cousins on my mother’s side that I was particularly close with and I would make the most handsome paper boat. The object being to see it safely down the Brandywine to the finish line, and it would always sink just beforehand. Siggy would get in such a tiff over it. Then there’s beautiful handcrafts that are up for judging too! Hand knitted blankets, prized family recipes, gorgeous wreaths for your door. No, hobbits don’t have crafts persay, but I would think we would have a day just for being passionate…about life, I suppose.”

Good job, Sunny. Self-five. As someone who grew up in a small, rural area, this was 100% based on our county fairs. I won showmanship with my sheep, and my homemade wreaths usually won 3rd place.😏

“Well I suppose I lost our little game, so I feel it only fair to turn the prize to the victor. Ask what you will of me, and I will see it done.”

“Be my escort tomorrow?” Bilbo blurted, catching Thorin off-guard. “I just…today was so lovely. And I thought if you didn’t have anything else…But then you are the king! Of course you would have better plans than to escort…”

Thorin cut him off with a gentle whiskery kiss to his hand.

“It would be my honor.”

So it was actually a little before this chapter that I knew I had messed up. But to be fair, I only had up to Chapter 4 written before I started posting. If you guys actually look at my tumblr post for the first chapter, you will notice the next chapter was supposed to be ‘Dance’. I realized about halfway through this chapter though that I had this idea of Thorin and Bilbo seeing the opera before going to the dance. So he would need an escort for that...

Chapter 6- Be My Escort

So on the original prompt list I borrowed from, it had ‘Movie Night’. I decided to replace that with the Middle Earth equivalent: play/live theater, but named it “Be My Escort”. 

There was a shift in their relationship that has happened recently that Thorin didn’t feel entirely prepared for. Perhaps, he should have been. Perhaps, this was just logically the next step. However, he found himself concerned for Bilbo’s image. The ‘courtesan’ comment made by Heor has sat ill with him, even though the vile vermin was sitting comfortably in a cell right now.

Does anyone else HC Thorin as somebody who has to have a plan and stick to it? Maybe it’s his stubborn nature, but I always imagine Thorin freaking out if anything deviates from the way he saw things working out. This plays into his ‘freak out’ in the next chapter. 

Bilbo had indeed dressed for the occasion. He wore one of his hobbit button-downs and nicer knee length dark slacks, but over that was a dwarven tunic of Durin blue with golden trim and a golden belt around his waist. However, Thorin felt his eyes drift to the hobbits chest where in the gap of the vest, he could see the mithril glittering brightly.

FUNNY STORY! I was complaining to @lordoftherazzles​ that I didn’t know how I wanted Bilbo’s outfit to look, and then sent her down a rabbit hole for a reference pic just for these few sentences of description.😅 Thank you Razzy!! Your efforts were well appreciated.

There was once a point when Thorin was still quite young and naively believing that Erebor would always belong to him, that wanted to forgo any notion of kingship in favor of an operatic career. Before puberty dropped him into a deep bass, his range had been wide and high, and he had been mesmerized by the players on the stage utilizing such gifts for storytelling. Thorin’s grandmother probably would have been the first dwarf in his corner had he ever brought it up. She had always been rather adoring on him and his vocal talents. Alas, life did not turn out the way he wanted nor ever envisioned.

Is this not the cutest headcanon for a young prince Thorin? More on this later this week... 👀

“I didn’t mean to offend.” Bilbo stated quietly.

“You didn’t.”

However, even Thorin recognized the waspish tone in his quick answer.

More evidence of Thorin being needled by things not going his way. It will blow up on him soon. You’ll have to wait til tomorrow though for me to talk about it.😏

[inthememetime]

Since you're back to writing horror, are you going to start doing the horror/scary writing tips again? Asking for a friend.

So, I did promise monthly updates...and then got distracted writing a romantic comedy of all things. I'm sorry!

Some things I end up using a lot are foreshadowing and Chekov's Gun, which are pretty closely linked with plot twists, so I'll go over how that relates to horror, audience engagement, and how to avoid punishing clever/invested audiences under the cut.

Let me know of anything you'd like to see next!

Foreshadowing and Chekov's Gun

There are a lot of blogs with GREAT tios and definitions of both of these terms, so l'll just use my short & sweet version.

Foreshadowing is any hint that the creator puts out or the audience picks up on. These hints can be unintentional or intentional, and can lead to something or nothing. Foreshadowing is a great way to keep audiences engaged and interested. After a certain amount of 'what's going to happen next? I can never tell!', there is an inevitable 'ugh, this thing is so random, nothing makes sense'.

Foreshadowing helps you avoid that by putting hints about something in Act 2 or 3 in Act 1, so things do make sense. It can still be a surprise, but just because an audience knows X is going to happen to character 1 doesn't mean they know the ramifications for the other characters- or the mcguffin they're always after.

Chekov's Gun, simply put, is the idea that if you bring special attention to item, it will be important to the plot (or a character) later. Who wants to read 3 pages about some dumb curtains or a dress? It's a pit I used to fall in frequently- I would get so invested in describing what I saw, sometimes on things that had nothing to do with the plot, that readers would get bored and leave.

Chekov's Gun helps avoid that. And it can be any item- not just a gun. Let's look at the paragraph below.

The room was lavishly decorated; carved wood moulding on the baseboards and ceilings covered in gold shone dimly in the light from stained glass reading lamp. The desk was beautiful mahogany, carved with fine panels depicting old fairy tales. That made the plain, unmarked case stand out further; a closer look revealed it contained a bottle labled 'Arsenic'.

So in that paragraph, we've set up a few things. One, our character is in a really fancy place. Two, they notice patterns well. And three- somebody has a bottle of arsenic!

If that arsenic serves a plot purpose, no matter how small, congratulations! You've used Chekov's gun. If it is never used, never referred to, then why bother mentioning it? And why give it the same amount of attention you did anything else?

That leads us to part 3: audience engagement and punishing the audience for being engaged. Do you remember the show Lost? If you don't, you aren't missing much. They'd set up a plot, work towards it, and as soon as a fan guessed it, change directions immediately. It was frustrating! I remember figuring it out- and then feeling like I'd been slapped because all the notes my friends and I took weren't worth anything; instead of moving the plot along, they switched it completely to something new.

Then, once we figured out season 2, guess what the writers did? That's right. I never bothered with season 3. It lost my engagement because it punished me for being engaged.

I'll use a comment on one of my own fics for example: "I KNEW IT WAS GONNA HAPPEN BUT I WASNT PREPARED!!!

That's good! You see, the real trick isn't shocking your audience with what happens. After the first twist or two, they'll start figuring out what you're doing. The trick is how you do it.

Is your character secretly a serial killer? Maybe they've figured that out- but they haven't figured out who the killer is going to go for next, or why, or what law enforcement is doing. There's lots of ways to surprise them without punishing them.

Hollywood tells us we have to have the twist ending or twist villain. Do we? Sometimes that's great! But sometimes, especially in horror, the build-up is where you have to put your emphasis. If you don't build up, or you build up to something disappointing, that punishes an audience.

[sofiadragon]

My sources: been writing as a hobby since 1994, went to college for education and took creative writing classes as my humanities electives.

It's hard, but step one is to accept feedback and re-read your old work critically. Yes, the painful kind where you or someone else takes a red pen to a printout. Not from anyone randomly or the whole internet, goodness no, but find a trusted wall to bounce things off of, be it a friend IRL or a discord group. Be prepared to feel some kind of way. Prepare a love bomb for yourself if you are sensitive to critique. A painter will paint something and then look at where it wasn’t quite right to figure out their weaknesses. Are you too wordy? Dialog so wooden you might as well light a campfire? Foreshadowing as subtle as a neon sign pointing to the twist, or so obscure nobody ever sees it? Are all your characters a little too two-dimensional? You need to find specific things you need to improve in order to get better in general.

Step two sounds boring and almost too obvious. Read a textbook about creative or technical writing. Take an online class. Some community colleges let you audit a class at a discount (you don't get credits or an official grade, but you'll still do all the things and get your assingments graded.) Read books in the genera you want to write about - both some classic/popular ones and some secondhand store ones you can take a highlighter and pencil to and scribble in how you'd do it better. Some of these options take more time or money and some people learn better one way instead of another. Try at least two things, see what works for you. If you want to be more productive or make it a daily habit, maybe try the National Novel Writers Month (NaNoWriMo) challange next November.

Step 3 is also obvious, but after the blast to the heart in step 1 it could be quite hard: write more. You get better at knitting by knitting. If you are bad at hats you look up tips and tricks and then knit hats until they stop looking like they are for The Coneheads (film, 1993). Focus on the flaws you found in step 1 and the ideas you came up with to do better in part 2. Maybe re-write something you wrote before. For fanfiction and light romance novels especially, we can take the common tropes and Hallmark movies as proof positive that sometimes readers/watchers really will eat three gallons of the same flavor of ice cream in a week. I have twenty tabs of the same two blorbos finding themselves in almost identical circumstances in my phone browser. No need to take down the old fic, just write it again this time with blackjack and better narrative cohesion.

writing stuff

i noticed something so stay with me for a second:

I have always treated writing less like a craft and more like a... idk. Hobby i guess. Whenever I write its some kind of story, a fanfiction or something for a current wip.

I sit down, write and edit it later. And thats great and all, but I noticed I never TRAIN my writing.

Sure, I write but not just to get better. Its a craft, isn't it? You have to practice your notes to play a song on the piano, so why don't I have to train to get better at writing?

Well, I decided that I want to train. I haven't found any tricks online though, HOW to do this so I will make my own.

And since maybe someone else has a similar problem and because I want to hear what you guys think about this, I will post it one here :))

Sooooo.... if you have any tipps and tricks how to get better in writing and how to improve through training, please tell me!

[littleteacupdragon]

Could you do something with analogical and a hand on the cheek when they are very stressed helping them calm down ?

Thank you so much! You have no idea how excited I got seeing this. It's now after midnight, this took about an hour to write and I did just the most basic check, so please excuse any mistakes. I hope you like it!

Silent comfort

The last few days were... Rough. That was an understatement but there was no need to dwell on the past more than it deserved, especially when it wasn't the most pleasant. Rough was an okay adjective.

The thing was, nothing foreshadowed the amount of complications that started to pile up with, seemingly, every passing hour. They say that sorrows come in batalions. Maybe there was something to the saying after all. At that point, Virgil would be partial to every excuse that would take his mind off of blaming himself. The amount of anxiety all of their plans crumbling caused him and, by extension, Thomas, hasn't been that high in a long while.

He thought he was getting better. He thought he was learning to control himself.

He guessed not.

And then there was Logan, visibly struggling to keep his composure while haphazardly changing schedules, calculating the degree of delays, the time that a particular thing needed to be put back on track - Logan's schedules weren't completely packed, always assuming the possibility of something failing, not this big amount of things, though.

You can take one piece from the very base of a Jenga tower without much consequence. Take two and the whole structure is hanging on a thread. One reckless move...

But no more of that. The situation has already been handled, for now. The whole of Thomas was exhausted, which didn't help when Logan and Virgil were still wound up, ready for the next bad news, not yet allowing themselves the full comfort of letting go.

At least Virgil didn't. He sat in front of the couch, knees up near his chest, staring on the wall. He knew thinking about it won't help anything. He couldn't help but think all the same.

The thoughts weren't the nicest; he wondered when will he stop worrying about the things that have no more impact on the present, not to mention the future. They seemed to have no end and an infinite amount of beginnings.

A sound of footsteps made Virgil jerk out of the deepest thoughts, in the small spike of adrenaline he didn't manage to recognise the person they belonged to before they were crouched down next to him, eyes cautious, worried. Tired.

Virgil sighed and visibly deflated, finding himself with not enough energy for words. Logan would understand, he understood most of the times.

And then there was a hand on his cheek, such a simple gesture. It was light and because of that almost tingling where it touched - warm and soft, a little hesitant. Questioning?

He could move back, he knew that.

He just didn't want to. Not this time.

Noticing that Virgil wasn't shying away, Logan let his hand cup his cheek properly, his thumb staring to move up and down leisurely, marvelling at the soft skin silently, carefully. Virgil sighed, his legs loosing a bit of the tension they were holding, slipping away from his chest just a tad.

Logan moved a bit, settling down on the floor next to Virgil so that he didn't have to be wary of balancing on his toes. His second hand moved to Virgil's other cheek, holding his face gently as if it was made out of a very precious material.

It was nothing, really. Nothing special, the gesture itself. The softness and tenderness of it made Virgil feel secure in a way that he'd find hard to explain. He was frozen in place and at the same time free to go whenever he wished, staring at Logan who wasn't looking exactly into his eyes, his focus on his own hands. As the other thumb joined the first one in the small movement Virgil sighed once more, this time letting his shoulders fall from shielding his neck.

And as the seconds passed, Logan started to let go of his miniscule signs of stress as well. With a few more up and downs of his fingers the movement regained its feather-lightness, his eyes finally meeting Virgil's and staying there as the last trails of stress left the depths of them.

Virgil smiled softly, his own hands coming up to rest upon Logan's, just for a moment, reassuring.

Virgil needed to feel safe in such times. He needed to put his trust into someone else, let himself be vulnerable, not fight for control that was slipping through his fingers. He needed to just breathe, to be grounded to calm down. He liked the contact, it made it all a bit easier.

Logan needed the feeling of control over something when he was extremely stressed, no matter how small the thing was. It sounds like a negative thing but it always manifested in small gestures: setting up the table, rearranging his desk. Something not that important, not hard, not demanding.

Being the one to touch Virgil instead of being touched was one of those things too.

He would never demand something that Virgil wasn't willing to give, that was directly stated when they started to seek each other for comfort. Rejections did happen, there was always another way for Logan to calm down. He wasn't the one to cross such boundaries.

But sometimes, especially in such stressful circumstances, there was nothing better than a bit of physical touch.

-

Send me a prompt focusing on touch

Read more of my touch-based prompts fics